#more in a “i figured out how to survive in my situation and now im in a new situation and im so so lost on what to do”

[buff-borf-bork]

Did the anime subtitles tiktok filter last words while thinking of each if my dnd characters and

1 we've got her going out the way she lived, living her best life while saying some bullshit that bound to annoy someone but hopefully make someone laugh

for the one I was thinking of, THIS ONE HURTS my poor girl bbg I'm so sorry they did you like that 😭

I could see her saying that in a trying to comfort someone else way as she died. Like yeah it'll hurt but only because we loved! Isn't that great!

#~ one of these girls is more damaged than the others~ #and she shows it but not in a cute sweet “i stayed kind when the world wasnt” #kinda way #more in a “i figured out how to survive in my situation and now im in a new situation and im so so lost on what to do” #rip to her #dnd #my... characters?? i guess??? are dnd characters ocs???? #i like to imagine all three of them meeting and how that would go lol

[altades]

Vashwood rant

I can't sleep so why not analyze vashwood in the middle of the night

Now, this analysis is mostly of the manga, with maybe small takes from 98 and tristamp

To start let's look at the boys from their respective beginnings

Vash is so cruelly mischaracterized as a child, and it might be a little bit of trismaps fault, even though i do love it, or maybe people are just putting characters into boxes without really thinking about it but Vash is so not soft-shy-nice little baby brother. The whole thing with him being younger is so insane to me, i get why if Nai was born like 10 minutes earlier he would make it his whole personality (very sibling thing to do) but it's just so stupid. No, they have 0 age difference and it doesn't affect their dynamic cuz the are literally twins for the love of god. And, really, when you look at the manga as kids Nai was the emotional one! And he still is!

Nai is plagued by fear and anger and resentment and those emotions are what drive his every decision. Vash, on the other hand, is much more in control of his feelings and doesn't show them as much. That is to say that pre-tesla nai is the one worried about their relationship with humans, about their future, he's the one crying after talking to Conrad (what a sweet child he was) while Vash seemes much less scared.

And when they find out about Tesla Nai is the one who faints - he’s the more reactive one, the emotional one. And that small difference is what sets their paths so differently. Because Vash actually gets a chance to talk to Rem and figure things out.And that talk is so very important because it makes Rem, who already was everything to Vash, even more important. 

Now, I want us all to think about how terrified Vash was after seeing Tesla cuz he probably thought his own mother was going to dissect him and his brother. But then she saves him when he tries to end his own life, proving that no she’s not gonna kill him, because she, as every human, has the capability to learn from her mistakes and make better choices. (too bad Nai didn’t get that lesson lol)

And then we get to the big bad things. (it’s genocide) But the important part from that whole ordeal is Rem’s sacrifice. Because, listen, I love stories where humanity is shown to be capable of change and forgiveness is a virtue and love and pussy and all that but oh man can it be so so unrealistic and a little bit insane to watch (su im looking at u (i love su but oh boy that is not how the world works unfortunately)) but Trimax manages to make it work so well. I believe that’s cuz Vash is a very kind and loving man but is also completely out of his mind and has horrendous mommy issues. At least half the reason he doesn’t kill people is because Rem has died to save them, and killing them would make it all be for nothing. If he kills these people or if he lets them die would that mean that Rem died for nothing? Did she sacrifice her life to save these people only for her own son to end their lives? AND you know I’m right cuz he literally says it in the manga but also BECAUSE HE DOES THE SAME FOR WOLFWOOD (also he did kill Nai when he had the chance but we don’t have time to unpack that)

All of that is A LOT and very complicated (i love Vash he’s so well written he’s my perfect little meow meow) now let's talk about Wolfwoooooooooood /twirls hair/

WW is much easier to understand and analyze cuz he is, just a guy,, WW is just a normal person who gets insanely unlucky and gets in THE WORST possible situations (If he ever played DND he would roll straight 1s). That is to say that his story is sort of a way to show how much life in the badlands sucks, but also that there are good things even in the worst places (the orphanage) And WW reacts to situations in the most rational way possible way - he kills to survive. he doesn’t want to but he doesn’t get a say in it. If he could chose he would just live with his family and friend and do whatever. And that, him being so normal in such a violent and bloody world is what makes him suffer all the time. His inner moral compass is screaming at him what a terrible person he is and he promptly ignores it.

That is until that moral compass manifests itself in the form of a tall, blond and handsome stranger that he’s supposed to lead to his death. The stranger who turns out to be the most compassionate and kind man WW’s has ever seen. Who he’s supposed to kill. It’s like finding an oasis in the desert and being forced to burn it to the ground. And WW doesn’t want to do that, and he refuses to believe that the oasis is not a mirage so he tries to get Vash to kill someone, even if it’s WW himself. (It doesn’t work.)

As we all know WW changes his mind because of Vash’s influence. And he dies for it. Because even though Vash’s beliefs are born of human virtues, no man is made to walk his path, for he is not human and any mortal who tries to follow an angel to the skies is doomed to crash. WHAT YOU DON’T EXPECT IS THAT THAT MAN WILL BRING THE ANGEL DOWN WITH HIM

There is this line I wrote for an art i’m planning to make and if you’ve read this far you deserve a lil spoiler - “have you found absolution in bringing an angel to his knees?” and it captures perfectly what i'm thinking. And also Vash spends so much time trying to be closer to people but I think him killing Legato might’ve been the most human thing he’s ever done. Cuz it’s is so beautiful in the way he does it for the memory of the person he loved and yet so ugly in it’s cruelty.

I’ve said this before but most of the time when there is a human/ some immortal powerful creature relationship I don’t think the human is that special but WW HE SO IS. Maybe it’s the way that he’s just as deep in the nuclear bombs with personality business as Vash is, being one of said nuclear bombs, but still remains a normal person with relatively good morals that he can anchor Vash to a sort of normality that he doesn’t get often. Like what other guy would get hunted by all sorts of freaks with you, get in trouble all the time, get shot and etc and etc and then go for a drink with you like it’s a normal wednesday? Wolfwood. Or maybe it's that WW learns of every worst part of Vash, he sees him be on the brink of losing himself, he knows Vash has actually caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and ALMOST did it again after Julai, and still stays with him? He sees Vash become something that is not human at all and still stay? Idk MAYBE IT’S ALL OF THAT but WW is just so important and so down bad but we all know that already so i’m not gonna add to that

Anyways, I got this all out of my system gn

#vashwood #trigun #trigun maximum

[prodotsukare]

Which Q!Forever ends up being teleported from universe to universe, and it didn't matter in which world he always found q!Philza in a different timeline... in this he arrives in an extremely dangerous place.

He could only run, as far as possible. danger, danger, was all that popped into his head as soon as he was faced with a totally destroyed spawn and laughter echoing from all sides, were they planning to kill him as soon as he stepped into that world? 

So his only choice was to run as far away as possible, he had no way of protecting himself from whatever the fuck was going to happen to him, but not to sound too proud, 'Se estivessemos no meu mundo, eu iria destruí-los'(If we were on my world, i would destroy them), but they weren't, so he had no other choice.

He didn't have a locator to see if there were people nearby, he felt that at any moment he would be attacked, he just saw in the global communicator several people calling him, offering gifts for him to go to them, but Forever was not stupid, he knew how it worked, and now all he had on his mind was his own survival. He just slowed down his steps when he felt the cold of a snowy biome on his body, at that moment he hated himself for his sense of style and his choice of refusing to wear a shirt 'O que é bonito tem que ser mostrado' (What is beautiful has to be shown), He laughs at himself as a result of the silly joke your mind made as a way of comfort on that situation.

He felt so cold, his paws stepping on soft snow was not one of the best sensations a man could feel, he was not used to this cold, he was used to the heat of Quesadilla Island, felt that his legs would betray him at any moment and let drop him in the snow. 

And so it did.

His body needed a rest, his heart was beating fast from the amount he had to run to find a place where he could take a break, Forever believed that his body simply dropping to its knees in the snow was a way of rebelling against his brain for the will of wanting at least a second of rest and his brain obeyed because, even though it was extremely cold at that moment and he knew he should find a warm place, he didn't have the strength to do that so he stayed there.

stayed.

and stayed in the snow.

He missed his own world.

He missed his Brazilian friends.

He missed his sister.

He missed the friends from other countries he made on the island.

He missed the kids.

He missed Phil. (even though he refused to acknowledge this)

He missed Richarlyson.

It had been so long… So long since he had seen his son… his family… his found family. It hurt, it hurt too much, he didn't know when he would return to his original world, nor why he had the curiosity to enter that stupid portal, he didn't know why… because regardless of the world he spawns… he always finds… always find 'him'… 

'that stupid b-'

He heard footsteps, which pulled him out of his thoughts and made him lift his head. 

'Oh no…

no no…

why… why- WHY.

or… maybe yes?'

The figure in front of her wasn't hard to recognize.

But what will he be like? he thought .

Would he be more like Crowfather? 

would be more like the soldier? 

or… would he be more like 'yours'? 

blond hair, blue eyes…green clothes and beautiful w-… wings? Where are the wings? Does he not have them in this world? but on all the others the wings were there… are they hidden in that purple cape he was wearing?

He lowered his gaze further… canes? He couldn't walk?

'oooh… this world…. this horrible world…'

'What did they do to you?

 Why would they do that to you… 

Was there no one there to protect you? 

I could have protected you… 

Why wouldn't anyone be there to protect you… 

how could they… let this happen to you.'

But for a second, logic was more powerful than the pity he could feel, 'What did you do to deserve this?' and then he started feeling scared as soon as he saw him going through his own bag, is this the end for him? he already saw 'his own' Philza in battle and he was quite skilled, no, he was extremely skilled, but now imagine this one who is in front of him, who already lives in a world where he is in constant danger of being attacked by someone, could he- 

'oh….

there it is, the answer.'

His answer was the soft cloth that was thrown towards him by the elder, a red cape for the cold, 'how can you doubt your belov-... friend… '

"Sorry for throwing that right in your face, but you weren't responding…." a small smile appeared on his face as he spoke, "but your tail was wagging so I guess you're happy to find someone who isn't immediately trying to attack you." 

"im Philza." 'yes…i know.'

"I'm called….Forever" 'Cauda idiota… idiota, estupida… sempre me expondo… '(Dumb tail… dumb, stupid… always exposing me)

More footsteps, this time coming from the forest, Forever and Philza turned to the side where the noises were coming, knowing it was probably some idiot. 

"Come with me, I'll take you to a safe place where you can rest" Forever nodded in response, getting up and wearing the cloak Phil gave him "Don't worry, you can be sure they know the trouble they'll get into if they think in attacking me or attacking someone who is with me." offered his hand to help him to get up, which Forever gladly accepts.

They were silent the entire time on the way to Philza's base, and Forever took the time to observe him 'era o mesmo em todos os mundos, mas aqui você não tem suas tão preciosas asas…'(you are the same in all worlds, but here you don't have your precious wings).

I wonder what happened.

Philza… 'His Philza', once said, his wings were clipped when he woke up in Quesadilla Island. Philza from the Antarctic Empire still had his wings, but never used it much since they were in a very cold place and a storm could start at any moment. His thoughts guided him to Crowfather, The Philza who lived around several other hybrids, he remembered when he met him he flew whenever he could, Forever does not understand the avians culture, but believes that his wings are the most important thing for them , its symbol of pride, beauty, its story. Remember how Crowfather flew, so skilfully, so happily, a joy he never saw in 'his' Philza, so freely, a freedom he never saw 'his' Philza demonstrate. 

But now he saw one, that just didn't had it at all.

The wind pushed Phil's cape away, and there were his wings... well... what's left of them. The joint that made the shape of the wings, with just a few feathers covering it, it looked totally destroyed, clearly Phil couldn't even move them, only a miracle could fix this damage. 'Was it an accident? Was it on purpose? He did this to himself? Was it someone else?' 

Phil definitely notices the look Forever was giving his wings.

"Hey, is everything alright mate?" He stops his footsteps, looking at Forever, worried.

"Oh! Oh no, no.... It's just that, that... Your wings" Forever felt embarrassed for a moment, trying to hide in the cape the other man gave, remembering that Philza just met him. From his perspective it was weird, a stranger caring so much for something like that, but at the same time… Philza cared enough about him to take him to his base, so isn't it fair?

"Ow, don't be sad about it man! We barely know each other and you're already feeling sorry for me, hahaha!" The laugh, 'The laugh… even the laugh was the same', How can he laugh about this? his sister Baghera said to him that the avians wings were what make them what they are, their wings are an individual mark of each one, but why did he seem so detached from that part of him? he didn't seem to care, but why wouldn't he care for a special thing such as the symbol of your species? 

They arrived. Philza entered, stepping over the fence, which was proof that he was able to walk, but without his wings he just had to find a way balance that he probably lost after his wings got destroyed, and as imagined, he lost the balance (he almost feel) after jumping over the fence. Forever did the same, jumping over the fence right after Philza, and looking around, it was nothing like Forever had imagined, it was a quiet place that oozed comfort, one…two… three houses? there were horses, and lots and lots of dogs, lots of animals in general... but what caught his attention was the rare pink sheep that ran towards Phil as soon as they arrived. 

"Hello Rosie~ how was your day?" he petted the sheep who was apparently named Rosie, who responded with a squeal, 'Mée mée, hehe…cute'. The sheep came towards him, sniffing his hand and then running away and walking towards one of the wooden houses. 

A creature, an enderman? came out of the white and black house that was set against the mountain, with a… baby zombie piglin? woow this world just surprises him, an enderman with a zombie piglin son… the enderman walked past them and greets Phil, when he looked at Forever (never looking him in the eye, of course he's not dumb.) assumed he was a friend of Philza that he just didn't he remembered if he had ever met before and greeted him too, soon turning his attention back to the piglin and continued on their way. 

"Who is they?" Forever asked, trying not to sound too nosy, but who wouldn't be curious? 

"They are Ranboo, and Michael, their son, they live with me and my friend, Techno" he quickly explained as if he had to do this all the time. "Ranboo's house was destroyed a while ago, so I invited him to live here to protect him, and it wasn't long ago that Michael moved in with him." 

Protective, as usual… all of them were the same, just having a single more worked-up personality trait… Crowfather was more sarcastic and sassy, with a big superiority complex if judged…but he wasn't evil, he just had a god complex, or "queen bee" complex.

The soldier one… that one was terrifying at first sight, he was more serious and tactical, with a more… “military” way but still calm as always, Philza always has this calmer personality… but this one was much colder following orders from above, he probably didn't think too hard when ordered to kill someone. 

But they all had something in common, they were all extremely protective of what they loved, 'his' Phil was extremely protective of the kids and was afraid to even leave the house with Tallulah and Chayanne and anyone else he was looking after to do quests. 

Crowfather was extremely protective of everyone in that small territory, in that safe place for hybrids they built, he cared about hybrids more than anything else. 

That soldier one... was protective of his and his friend's Empire, and spent much of his time guarding the territory, and did everything in his power and sometimes even out of his reach to help his friend complete his goal of conquering. the world.

And this one… looked like 'his' Phil, just protective of everyone around him. 

"Wow, you're already trusting me so much to give me all this information? Aren't you afraid I'm some kind of spy or something?" Forever asked, clearly joking, Phil shrugged, probably the answer is no. 

Phil guided him to his house and let him in. "Oh shit, I should probably get you some…" Judged the way Forever dressed looking up and down at him. "Best clothes for this biome?" Forever nodded, maybe the 'no shirt in front of Phil' rule could have a break here, or he would freeze…'difficult choice but i don't want to die like this' "Okay! a sec, I'll have to check Techno's stuff if there's something for you, I guess my clothes wouldn't fit since you're-" He paused for a second, searching for the right words "bigger than me?" he chuckled and headed for the door. 

Forever was alone in the house now, and he took advantage of the little time he would have there to observe the surroundings, 'comfy place', fireplace to keep warm, two chairs in front of the fireplace, several chests which he held so as not to look at what was inside (and judge his wealth), flowers… and  kinda weird pictures on the walls… probably of friends, that little place had such a nice feeling, the same feeling you would feel in 'Phil's' house, everything was so familiar, it was such a quiet and safe place, Forever thought Philza's house would be extravagant and big, full of luxurious furniture and shiny things, like in the Antarctic empire, instead of that, he was welcomed with a small wooden house in the middle of the snow, a house so simple but probably full of feeling and history…

"I'm back! I'm back… sorry for the delay" he entered the door, with clothes in his hands already giving it to Forever "Techno is a hybrid too, you won't need to worry about the comfort, you can go up to my room get changed while I make something to feed ourselves" Carefully Philza shows directions for Forever to go up to the bedroom and so he goes up the wooden stairs and he start to analyze the clothes Phil brought to him, two sweaters, probably for layers and a pair of sweatpants for hybrids, very simple, very comfortable and probably carefully chosen. 

Forever quickly dressed, and tied his hair into a hairbun, the clothes fit but were still a little bigger than his usual size, so they were slightly baggy. With the help of his hybrid side, he smelled the snack that Philza was making downstairs, like in childhood when he spent time at his grandmother's house, and she would kindly make small snacks during the late afternoon, he didn't know the reason why would he compares Phil to a grandma but he's kinda old so it makes sense but we don't talk about it much. He quickly went downstairs trying not to make too much noise and disturb Philza while he was doing his thing. He saw that Philza had arranged two chairs in front of the fireplace but decided to stay put and wait for some sign from the Avian. Philza look at him from the corner of his eye.

"You can sit down, don't be shy" Forever could see the sweet smile that appeared on Philza's face, so he sat down on one of the chairs and you already felt the heat of the fireplace reaching his body.

"Sorry, I just don't want to bother you" He pressed his hands against his lap, he couldn't deny it, he was still feeling a little shy. 

''Don't worry, your company has been pleasant" Philza turned and revealed what he was working on. With two mugs of hot chocolate in hand, he approached Forever, offering him one. "Techno is hibernating at the moment, Ranboo is always exploring or mining, and my son... doesn't visit much. It's nice to have someone to talk to who isn't a baby zombie piglin." 

Forever kindly smiled, taking the mug Philza offered him. The blue-eyed one turned his attention to the counter, picking up a plate… a plate of cookies! and approached Forever again, offering one, who tastefully thanked with his head and took one of the snacks and put his mouth close to taste " You are so kind Philza~, You protected me from the cold, You gave me warm clothes and you are feeding me , you're like my Sugar Daddy- " Damn… he couldn't stop his words in time, how could he be so stupid? he should learn to control his jokes, what would Philza think now? he probably made him extremely uncomfortable! he was preparing to urgently apologize for the bad joke, but he was surprised. 

Philza was laughing, laughing at his joke, he was laughing too hard. 

"Oh god… Hahaha! You really…?" Philza dropped the plate on the counter again and pressed his hands against his stomach while laughing "Did you really call me 'Sugar daddy'? Hahahaha! I admire your bravery, isn't everyone who has the courage to call an angel of death 'Sugar Daddy''" Philza calmed down from the laughter, sitting in the chair next to Forever "I really liked you… you are very funny, You can stay here as long as you need, no worries" Philza rested his elbow on the arm of the chair , and rested his head on his hand, looking directly into Forever's scarlet eyes, which made Forever blush. 

"Are you sure? I think you'd regret it as soon as I start to get comfortable…" Forever looked away, trying to hide the redness of his face, looked to a corner that suddenly became interested for a few seconds and then turned his gaze to the man next to him, right by his side, who was taking a sip of his drink, Phil nodded, confirming his proposal. 

Forever felt a bond growing, and this time, he wasn't going to screw it up, this time he was going to do it right.

#qsmp #qsmp philza #qsmp fanart #qsmp forever #caramelduo #sugarduo #philever #dreamsmp #dream smp #dsmp philza #dreamsmp philza #dsmp #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp writing #im so normal about them

[yuriachu]

whats ur opinion on generation loss niki? was curious because she's probably my favorite of nihachus characters,,extremely well written imo

I LOVE HER SOO MUCH OKAY . tbh i rlly rlly wish in general genloss went more into character deveklopment or was just Longer bc they had SUCH good personalities and god i want to know More..

what makes gl!niki for me is her acting- she is chillingly good at eliciting a reaction, and i think thats the goal both in and out of character. honestly i need to rewatch genloss im rusty but the way she saves the majority of her distress for when she's (mostly) off camera speaks to how she knows she needs to be what she precieves as likable, and playing up what she thinks are her 'best' qualities like kindness, and less explicitly, her ability to hide her emotions and please an audience. she needs to be good content for the audience if she has any hope of survival. she thinks no one will want her if she isn't nice and easy to digest. she doesnt percieve worth in herself if she isn't what shes assigned to be, a nice and kind person. even under extreme distress. even when she could die.

i know some people percieve her crying/fear to be fake or ingeniune but i really prefer the take (semi confirmed from cc!Niki) that she's switching it off or repressing her real emotions in a desperate attempt of survival.. it would be really suprising for someone to not be so incredibly scared in that situation. i remember when niki did a stream discussing genloss she said she pulled a lot from the reactions of how people would comment on her crying in stressful events like mcc and that it was directly kind of taken from those experiences of being a public figure (and by extention a woman in these spaces bc lets be real thats why she gets that backlash). i think thats so incredibly powerful to use those experiences to build a character it makes me sick cc!niki ilysm. gl!niki ilysm.

a direct quote from cc!niki about gl!niki: "i am literally locked up on a spinning wheel of death, and of course i will cry, but i will not show it- i will not be able to show it to the audience, i cannot show them that i'm scared. i cannot show them that i'm tired and- and sad, and fearing for my life, because that is what is expected of me. because the outcome that happens if i show how i feel is worse than the fate of death that i am fearing right now."

so in a way (to my small rabbit brain) gl!niki is an incredibly chilling take on the way fandom and the public treat women in content creation space as machines who can only express emotions that are pretty or convient for the audience.. like. even in an incredibly terrifying situation gl!niki steels herself to be more 'calm' and plays into what people percieve as the Single facet of her personaliy, being Nice.. Like, 'look at me! i'm completely rational, not overly emotional! i'm so useful and likable! i'm good content!" and ITS INSANE!!!!!!! ITS INSANE!!! HOW DO U COPE WITH THIS. I FEEL ILL. i nihachu defender lover brain so like . this is all just my own rambling idek . i love her to pieces </3

#niki.txt #ask #im so sorry for going on a rant here oh my god this is so long #i started and i couldnt stop #also i didnt proofread this sorry abt typos or grammar errors i kept going back and adding things #gl!niki

[conspicuous-clown-car]

lemme ramble for a bit

so i have this story in my head of my self insert and the bs they go through while working at the pizzaplex for like 2 years as a night guard

and originally they were gonna die at the end of it before the events of security breach, smth about them finally getting what they wanted bc that’s one of the reasons they wanted to work there in the first place. but i thought that was way too sad, despite, yknow, it being a horror and if i was in their place id definitely be dead before then. plus there are some things worse than death in the fnaf universe. so i decided to veer away from angst for this story and go for a more thriller horror (maybe psychological) type thing yknow? makes it more fun

THEN i was like yo what if ghosts kids start haunting them to help them find their killer and there’s like 1 for each pizzaplex animatronic (excluding freddy and roxy bc they got gregory and cassie). and it could be super angsty bc 2 of the kids were inadvertently killed because of moon and one was killed by moon, and my s/i is super close with moon right? so it would be like a moral dilemma, bc they want to help the kids but they still want to be friends with moon, but they’re also horrified that he killed a kid. and my s/i would start dreaming and sleepwalking, forced by the ghost kids to relive their deaths to try and find who killed them. but then i started thinking about the timeline of that, and it would mean moon would’ve had the virus or whatever years before this story takes place, which isn’t what i wanted nor did it make sense. so after a while i was just like nahhhh, and it didn’t really mesh well with the story of security breach anyways, its more sci-fi than supernatural now, and including the ghost kids would just be too much crammed into self insert story i have. the kids designs im still gonna use tho lol

NOW after getting back into fnaf after like a few months of not really caring about the lore, i’ve been watching more theory videos and book summaries and stuff like that and it made me shift my whole view on security breach’s story

so i’ve decided that i wanna stick as close to canon lore as possible and make gregory and vanessa/vanny more present and important. i want to focus more on the issues with ai, and show the slow downfall and problems with depending solely on them. i also need to figure out why my self insert has plot armor bc anyone in their situation would’ve been fired or killed by now (i don’t have to stick that close to canon for this i guess). but im just gonna justify it as they’re a pushover who doesn’t ask any questions and just does what they’re told, which is pretty much what got the other employees fired or killed bc they did the opposite (they’re also a huge nerd about robots so they end up being good friends with all the animatronics which is a HUGE plot point in this story, friendship is the real magic love conquers all etc. etc.) don’t get me wrong, they are fully aware of how wrong things are in the pizzaplex and how some things vanessa has told them don’t add up, but they are a good little employee (they are a severe people pleaser) so they feign ignorance to it all.

my self insert being autistic and having adhd is also a big thing i wanna include, bc there’s some really specific shit about their autism that would affect how they survive and stuff. things like trauma responses, masking, unmasking, meltdowns, and shutdowns that will affect their relationships with the others and will domino affect over time and lead to them surviving. idk ive just been thinking a lot lately about social interactions and experiences i have that are negatively or positively impacted specifically because of my autism. choices choices

i also want to make sure that it’s clear how neglected all the animatronics are. not just the dca since it is intended to be a s/i x sun and moon story. but there’s a lot of issues the in game messages have talked about with the animatronics that seem to happen because no one is bothering to help them. they just put a bandaid on a situation but they don’t fix the root problem yknow. also, my s/i doesn’t think the animatronics are sentient at first, and i want that to be a big thing that gets explored several times throughout the story bc i love thinking about robot sentience.

at first i was gonna have monty sort of start to be nice to my s/i, and maybe they could be friends or even have a sibling type relationship (red hair lol) but then i was like nah, monty being an asshole is what makes his character interesting. plus his behavior is a nice contrast from the rest of the band. though i think it would be funny for some characters to think monty is my s/i’s favorite at first bc their hair is dyed red

i also want sun and moon to be as close to canon as possible. while i love love LOVE pretty much every dca x reader fic i ever read, i have a preference for canon depictions of sun and moon lol. no hate to fanon depictions of sun when i say this, but ive been lost in the sauce of fanon sun for too long, and i wanna make him passive aggressive, and sarcastic, and picky, and fussy!! but still an anxious wreck and a people pleaser perfectionist. i’ll admit im still struggling with this. it was kinda hard to get a gauge on his personality at first because until help wanted 2 we had only seen how he interacts with kids. and even though in universe that isn’t the real sun it’s the only indication we have of how he interacts with adults, so im taking it. moon is still gonna be mischievous, creepy as hell, and won’t talk much, but he’s not gonna be killin anyone (yet), he’s just gonna be kind of a stalker lol. also the dca and freddy have beef for some reason, it’s a personal head canon of mine but im adding it to this story hehe

lots of physical injuries, several concussions, a migraine so bad they loose the ability to communicate properly (smth i experience) will all happen to them, bc i am throwing them through the ringer. they will be stressed more often than not. get projected on idiot (i say that as if this isn’t my self insert and is literally me)

tbh this story would mostly be just a slice of life, shenanigan, character driven thing for most of it. but then little things brought up in the past will become important to the plot later on.

like how copyright music can’t be played in front of any of the animatronics or else they will freak out :]

that’s all lol

#sorry my meds just kicked in and i’ve been thinkin about my little story for days #had to write about its progress over these past HOLY SHIT 2 years #idk why i’m talking about this like im gonna write it or smth i can’t write for shit that’s why i do art lmao #IF (and that’s a big if) i were to write this i would have to write the entire thing before posting any of it #bc im a perfectionist #kirbsyaps

[ateriblewriter]

Not Like This {4} (q.h)

a/n: this is it. the last part. im sorry for multiple reasons. its kinda rough read. but i wanted to get it out. i might rewrite a part later. Let me know what you think.

italics are a flashback of sorts

warnings: sad. death.

Enjoy!

Part1, Part2, Part3

3ish Years Later

Quinn sat by himself on the edge of the dock watching the waves roll over the water. He found he needed more time to himself when family and friends arrived at the house. They were all here for the memorial they held every year for the past few years. And like always, Quinn was having a hard time processing the death of one of his oldest bestest friends and one of the greatest persons he knew. This is not how he imagined this situation turning out.

If he hadn’t gotten Y/N pregnant in the first place. She wouldn’t have gotten sick and he wouldn’t be missing his brother. Quinn never regretted his child, nor did he blame the baby. He just missed his brother.

~

Quinn raced Y/N to the hospital. The day finally came that someone died who just so happened to be a match to Y/N and now she could get the heart she so desperately needed in order to survive. His prayers had been answered.

“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” He noticed his parents waiting in the lobby of the hospital. Something was amiss. He hadn’t had the chance to inform anyone of the great news and yet they were here. “Mom. Dad. What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry sweetie.” His mother broke down in sobs. He had never heard his mother cry in his life.

“What happened? Where’s Luke and Jack?”

“Quinn, there was an accident. It was bad. Luke’s in surgery and Jack.”

“No. Fuck. No.”

“Jack’s dead.”

Every ounce of happiness left him when he realized exactly where Y/N’s new heart was coming from. Why did fate have to be so cruel that it needed to take the life of his little brother in order to save the life of the person he loved the most? It wasn’t fair.

~

“Hey. Whatcha thinking about?” Y/N brought him out of reliving that terrible day for the thousandth time. He must have been taking too long down by the water and she was sent to reel him back into the group.

“Nothing.” He placed his hand over his now wife’s protruding belly. Y/N knew he was lying. She figured he was thinking about that day again. The day Jack died so she could live.

“I miss him too. Even though I literally have a piece of him in my chest. I hate the fact that I can’t talk to him everyday. And I really don’t like how our babies will have to grow up without really getting to know their Uncle Jack.”

“You can talk to me if you want. I know he was your best friend, but he was like a brother to me.” She spoke out again when Quinn didn’t respond. She knew her husband was silently grieving. But she wanted to be there for him. “Please.”

Y/N pulled Quinn closer to her, guiding his head toward the scar on her chest so he could hear her heart beating, his brother’s heart beat. She found it was often something that calmed him when he was in a mood like this.

“Where’s Theo?” Quinn quietly piped up as he continued to stare out at the calm water listening to the thump thump of the heart.

“He’s back at the house. Trevor and Luke found an old pair of rollerblades and are trying to teach him. He’s a natural.” She tried bringing a little joy to his mood, but wasn’t getting through.

“I know what we should name this little bean.” Y/N thought out loud. She had known the gender of the baby for a little while now, but since Quinn didn’t want to know until the child was born, she elected to keep it quiet.

“That’s perfect.” Quinn grinned, it was probably one of the best ways to get back a part of what he lost that day.

~

“Mommy had my baby?” Theo skipped along holding Quinn’s hand. The new addition to their little family arrived the previous day. Everything went swimmingly this time. Y/N wasn’t sick, her heart was beating strong. Now it was time to introduce Theo to his new baby brother.

“Yeah. Remember what we talked about Theo. We need to be gentle and quiet. The baby is sleeping right now.” Quinn reminded the 5 year old fragile and couldn’t play hockey yet.

“Mommy!” Theo squealed, forgetting what Quinn told him, as he climbed to sit next to Y/N. She was just finishing feeding him. “Is that him?”

“Yeah. This is your baby brother Jack.” Quinn watched as Theo leaned over to place a kiss on top of the baby’s head. From that moment he knew his boys were going to be best friends, like he had been with his brothers. 

Please let me know what y’all think. I’d love to hear your thoughts, comments, and complaints! I would really like to know if y’all like this one. 

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #quinn hughes fic #sorry #hockey fic #hockey imagine

[sleepy-shutin]

do you have any tips on communicating with alters? i get the vibe im really not alone in the brain area (there are. copious ammounts of other reasons but.) i'm not sure if i just got some srs dpdr or am like actually a system

this sounds like less of a "communicating with alters" problem and more of a "DID vs. other disorders" problem, or a "how to tell what is and isn't an alter" problem. if you're not sure whether or not you have alters, communicating with them or attempting to do so isn't going to help you figure out if you have alters or not, you're just going to get more confused. trust me, i've been down this exact same path before and it made things worse and more confusing. don't jump into trying to communicate with alters first before even knowing whether or not you have them.

also, obligatory warning that more people should be giving out: if you're still living in an abusive/traumatic environment, i personally really do not recommend self diagnosing with DID. from my personal experience and the personal experience of friends, this makes things worse, especially if you're under 18 or otherwise cannot legally leave. worry about surviving and getting out, THEN worry about the magnitude of trauma that you experienced and try to start getting it processed. trying to process trauma and deal with trauma and dissociation symptoms while still being traumatized actively is an awful experience.

if the second paragraph doesn't apply to you, ignore it. it's not for you.

this post from felis puts a lot of it into some pretty easy to understand language, the difference between cPTSD parts and fully autonomous dissociated parts, as seen in DID or OSDD-1.

another thing to note--i can't remember if this is mentioned in the linked post or not--but parts aren't always necessarily going to feel like entirely different people controlling your body. the vast majority of people who have autonomous dissociated parts have parts that are not the most distinct and may be separated out by feeling (i.e. "i feel like a serious woman with long hair") rather than suddenly knowing you have a specific name, age, gender, etc.

what you should do when trying to figure out if you actually have parts, is pattern tracking. journal a lot. if you can, try to think about how you feel throughout the day, (i.e. "do i feel like the serious woman with long hair or do i feel like the sad little boy or do i feel like the happy man with a baseball cap?"), to better track these patterns and see if they are brought up at specific times of day.

for example, i become tal when i'm at work. she is a teenage girl with dark hair, and she's very cheerful, and is pretty happy being masculine, even though she doesn't necessarily present that way when we draw her.

while i'm at home, i become zero, who is more serious and deadpanned and irritable, who is very obviously a male figure.

i can always tell the difference between these two specifically because of how starkly different we feel to each other. when i start feeling like a bubbly teenage girl, that's a pretty easy way for me to tell when i've switched. i can generally tell when i'm going to switch to tal because she comes forward in IRL social situations, and at work. i've used pattern tracking over the course of months to figure these patterns out.

that's only two parts out of my documented 30-something, and it took months to fully figure that out. you're probably going to have a similar amount of time figuring out your own shit. don't rush it. the best time to start is now, so be patient.

so basically, track how you feel identity-wise in differing situations, and track how connected or disconnected you feel to these differing identity feelings over time.

when you get home from work/school, does the person at work/school feel like you? do you feel confused by your actions at work/school? anxious about these actions? disgusted? do you feel like these actions you did at work/school are something that you would do now that you're not at work/school? these are some questions you can ask yourself.

remember, this only works if you're honest with yourself, and it is not a quick process.

i hope you get things figured out anon.

#ask #anon #advice #actuallydid #actuallymultiple #actuallytraumagenic

[marshmallowprotection]

HI do you remember the ask about what saeyoung would have been like if saeran hadnt broken into the apartment?

this isnt describing how i think hed be like in those days where he stays at the apartment, but (since i was replaying his seasonal birthday chat) i think he keeps working as a secret agent, therefore, hes never able to reveal his true identity (not sure if he would reveal it to mc...). but im just not sure about saeran. because in the seasonal chats, he does show up, but saeyoung has no idea who he is

so either he never figured out the unkown situation, or unknown just decided to pop into the chatroom on his birthday

BUT that also had me thinking about mint eye and rika, because wasnt rikas plan to interfere with the party in some way??

idk, this is just me kind of rambling but id love to hear what you think !!

It's difficult and painful for me to imagine that Seven goes on not knowing that his twin brother is being tortured to the brink of his inevitable death.

Make no mistake here, if he stays in Mint Eye and the truth doesn't come out, he'll die in there due to a combination of malnutrition, an ungodly cocktail of drugs that we don't know the extent of because the elixir recipe never stays the same twice due to supply chains, and his poor habits that've been crafted to survive the night.

Saeran will die in Mint Eye if nobody gets him out, and if he doesn't die, we've seen that Rika doesn't have any qualms about siding with Saejoong Choi. Dying in Mint Eye would be lucky compared to that fate, since we don't know what Saejoong would do to Unknown. He's already been in the role of Prime Minister for a while by that point in the timeline. He's amassed even more power than what he had in the Another Story timeline.

I don't have much confidence in Saeran's safety in Casual/Deep Story when it comes to that.

I like to believe, AND THIS IS JUST MY OPINION, the Seasonal Chats are set up in a more realistic manner. You know, because in reality, it would take months and months of working with the RFA to plan the party and get to know everybody, so it's normal to have chatrooms for a variety of seasons. It's just like the Christmas DLC, there's a big charity party held by the RFA for Christmas, we are NOT planning a Christmas party AND the normal RFA party back to back in the same week.

That makes NO SENSE.

So, if you apply this theory to the Seasonal Chats, yeah, it makes a lot more sense to imagine everyone fitting into their roles, and why there happens to be a wishful cutaway where Unknown might willingly talk to his big brother even though it may not make sense when we apply the 11 day Routes.

Also, at the end of the day, I do worry about Saeyoung's safety as an agent. He has targets on his back. He has pissed off a lot of people in his day... more people than his father, and sooner or later, he could be at their mercy if Vanderwood isn't there to provide backup, or, like he laments in Ray Route, "Why the fuck didn't I stay armed?"

Rika's plan for an Eternal Party is the main and overarching theme throughout the story that lingers, but a lot of people have no idea what her goal is... A party. It's clear that it's a party, much like a party meant for the RFA's goals, but her plan is a party that never ends. A party that stays eternal.

Her happiness never ends.

Her glint at being the shining light rather than the big devil she fears.

That's what she wants to get rid of.

As the Savior, Rika can be an angel by force, and nobody will ever think of her as a cruel monster as long as she is in control and owns the narrative. Drink your elixir, close both of your eyes, and follow every word out of her mouth because it's better that way. It's better to accept she knows better than you, and she has your best interest at heart.

She had their best interest at heart before, so why doubt in her dreams now? She will SAVE everything in the world from Jihyun's clutches because he tried to smother her devil. She felt suffocated with him, and being with him made her feel... well, no matter how angelic she made herself to stop seeing herself as the devil, she saw a devil. She couldn't become an angel, she couldn't become the sun, and she couldn't become Jihyun to escape being Rika.

The Eternal Party is about more than inviting all the RFA guests to paradise so they can be pressured into joining alongside the RFA... it's about bringing the RFA together under Rika's watchful eye so she can have everything the way she likes it. She wants to ensure they do what she wants so she never loses them. She wants to use elixir on all of them so they will be forced to stay by her side and live in whatever delusion she's determined to create in her false paradise.

It's an Eternal Party because staying with her in paradise means life will feel like the glitz and glamour of the first one-to-two RFA parties. Where everything is perfect, Rika is an "angel", and nobody dares to think of leaving her behind because she's the one who created what she believes to be Heaven. She's going to give them everything they may ever want or need... so she's never abandoned for being a devil ever again.

Because, in Paradise, Rika is accepted for being what she is and that devilish side is seen as her "best quality" as opposed to something in life that might make others leave her behind, like how she views the end of every relationship she's ever held before the downward spiral she went on after the death of Mother Choi. She's going to become a devil that has it all, one that both radiates darkness and light, in her own way.

People will accept her, even if she has to force them to do so, that is the goal she possesses.

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #anon #mysme #mysticmessenger #mm #character analysis #saeran choi #choi saeran #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #seven #707 #saeran #rika kim #kim rika

[obsidiancreates]

Icewild (Part 3)

"Hey man. Yer butt flap is down."

"What?!" Taishen reaches back to feel, his golden scales turning bright molten orange as he blushes. "So indecent! Thank you for telling me! Would you like me to check your backside?"

"Nah, if mines down its just a nice fuckin' view." Gideon chuckles deeply and puffs his cigar. "Not to brag or anythin'."

"Well... alright." Taishen peeks anyway, because even if Damien ashamed there are possibly still ghosts down here who might not want to see any bare behinds. Gideon is buttoned up fine, though the overalls are clearly too small for him. Taishen would feel bad for him about that if the man's regular clothes seemed like they fit, but they also seemed a bit small.

Maybe he does that on purpose. Why he would, Taishen doesn't know. It seems very uncomfortable.

"Well, uh, let''s see. I've never really handled plumbing before..."

"Then why the hell'd you offer to check it out?"

"Well, I figured if it's just frozen I could melt it." Taishen produces a gorgeous flame in his palm, a delicate and refined dancing flame that, though it may be the same as what he uses in battle, is more settled in this peaceful context.

"Oh-ho yeah. I can help with that." Gideon grins, his beard sparking and crackling like the beginnings of a wildfire. Taishen's flame is reflected in Gideon's eyes, but the reflection seems wilder, raging, all-consuming.

"Um... well." Taishen holds his hand out in front of him to light their way. "How-how did you unlock your powers, then?"

"Fuckin' born with 'em, man."

"Oh! You didn't have an grand adventures, or... meetings with great beings?"

"I mean... my Pa was a pretty great guy."

"Oh! So you get if from him?"

"Nah, Pa was human."

"... I'm not sure we're getting anywhere with this."

"Well, why're ya askin'? Weren't you born with yours?"

"Not exactly. My niece went missing, and while searching for her I met a great ancient dragon, who awoke the powers within me."

"... Pretty fuckin' cool backstory." Gideon nods. "Hey, quick question. Does your niece bite you?"

"Not since she was a baby, I raised her not to do such things!"

"Wait, you raised her?"

"Well, yes-"

"Geez, man, you outta talk with Gricko later! Couple a single dads, he'd fuckin' love that. Unless you're not single, then maybe it wouldn't be as fun for 'im."

"Well, I am single, but I don't see how that matters."

"Matters 'cause he is too."

"I don't know if we'll really have much to talk about anyway. His... daughter, seems... seem to be a different situation."

"How?"

"Well... she's an owlbear."

"And? All kinds of different fuckin' people in the world, man."

"No, that's not what I meant-"

"Guess I found out why you're single."

"I- well it's mostly because I'm exploring the world and trying not to freeze to death-"

"And how do you keep warm to not freeze to death? Having some fun, if you know what I mean, heh-heh." Gideon elbows Taishen, knocking him into the wall of the waterways by accident. Taishen gives a little shout and rights himself, used to such things from Barnabos but still caught off guards thanks to the current subject matter.

"It's really just not the time or place for that kind of thing!" Taishen gestures around them. "My life recently has been very much a life-or-death situation!"

"And?"

"And-! And so it's just not the time for that sort of thing!"

"... We're on different fuckin' pages, man. I sleep with people in the middle of major situations all the fuckin' time."

"And that's very disturbing to know, please do not tell me these things!" Taishen prays they're close to the opening to the cave. "I spent years raising my niece, and now I'm trying to survive long enough to get back to her!"

"Alright, alright, I get it." They walk in silence for a little while.

"... But just so you know, ladies love the fire tricks." Gideon takes a swig from his flask, swishes it around, tilts his head up, and spits out a fountain of fire! The whole corridor lights up, and Taishen shouts as he ducks out of the way.

"Goodness!"

"Fuckin' cool, right?" Gideon hands the flask over. "Try it, man! Just light it in your mouth and spit it real quick!"

"Spitting it seems a little gross."

"It's fire. Fire can't be dirty."

"Well, that does make sense..."

"Yeah, man!"

"Should you step out of the way? Can you be burned?"

"Eh, barely."

"Alright then..."

Taishen takes a tentative drink.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Queenie sits on Jornir's shoulder. "Why're we watchin' this guy again?"

Torbek, but a few feet away, sits chewing on a rock. Frost uses his mind hand to remove the rock, and Torbek makes a sad noise. Frost gives Torbek a piece of soft wood, which Torbek also begins to gnaw on.

"His state... concerns me."

"Ha, no shit." Skrimm sits nearby, swirling a bottle of brandy. "That guy's life seems fucked, and that's comin' from me." He takes a big drink.

"Skrimm, didn't you say you can do that thing where you look in souls or somethin'?" Queenie sighs, leaning against Jornir's head. "I don't think he's very malicious."

"Oh, look at that! Finally someone asks about my powers!" Skrimm looks at Torbek. "I'll try it, but if I had to bet I'd bet all I'll get is sad."

Skrimm focuses on Torbek and, like how he can summon the Brutal Blade with the mere flick of a wrist, flicks something in his mind or soul to see in Torbek's.

After a moment Skrimm hears, whispered in the back of his mind and drifting to the forefront, the word content.

"He's just relaxing." Skrimm shrugs, leaning back again. "He's content. Guess the guy has some pretty low standards." Skrimm takes another drink of his cheap brandy and a bite of some definitely-gone-off cheese.

Jornir eyes Skrimm, but doesn't say anything.

Queenie hops off of Jornir's back. "Well in that case, I'm gonna go make him feel a little more welcome. Jornir's been glarin' at him all day."

"I am not glaring. I am just... looking."

"You've been glarin', Jornir, ya wear you're heart on your sleeve sometimes."

"... I do?" Jornir looks at Skrimm, who makes an exaggerated face of confusion and shrugs.

Queenie hops away without another word, right up to Torbek. Torbek startles a little when she does.

"Ah! Did Torbek do something wrong?! Torbek is only chewing on what Frost says he can chew on!"

"Why're you chewin' on anythin', honey?"

"Mmmm, Torbek is bored."

"So yer chewin' on rocks?"

"Torbek chews on rocks often."

"Well, how about we find you a game or somethin' instead, how's that sound?"

Torbek lights right up! "Torbek loves games! He helped Mr. Kremy rig them all the time!"

"Torbek!" Kremy hisses.

"He did though, Kremy," Gricko chimes in.

"We're not talkin' about the carnival with folks who didn't work the carnival!"

"Sorry, Mr. Kremy." Torbek shrinks down a bit.

"Hey, don't you be snappin' at him!" Queenie snaps back.

"Excuse you, he's my em- I mean, my friend!"

"Oooooh, Torbek doesn't want more fighting!" Torbek covers his ears. "Torbek wants to play that game, pleaseeee, Torbek will never ask for anything else!"

"Alright, alright." Queenie glares ar Kremy again while she takes Torbek's hand and leads him away. "There's some snow just over there at the edge of the clearin', you ever made a snow angel before?"

"Noooo."

"Well neither have I, but I heard they're real fun so let's try it out."

Queenie and Torbek head off, and Kremy keeps an eye on them until they're out of sight. "Gotta bad feelin' about that, fellas."

"Oh, what's the worst that could happen, Kremy?" Gricko says. "In fact, Hootsie! Why don't we go join them, ah, ah? Alright let's go!" Gricko and Hootsie race off.

"It seems like a bad idea to me as vell."

Kremy and Frost both scream and jump up, Frost's fur standing on end and Kremy's shadow wiggling like a snake in a trap.

"I am Ketrothstein, but ah, you may call me Ket." He nods at them. "And I am also stuck in this vorld vhere I do not belong, as I have heard you are, and I thinkve should vork together to all return to our homes."

#legends of avantris #icebound #once upon a witchlight #fanfic #my attempts at fanfic

[margowritesthings]

Te Beroya: II

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: Mandalorian!Arthur Morgan x reader crossover: Star Wars x Red Dead Redemption prompt: 48. “For someone who acts like they hate me, you sure find a way to get me alone a lot.” + 52. “Just because you're pretty, it doesn't mean you can just get away with anything." / "You think I'm pretty?" + 56. “I-I don’t know if I want to yell at you or fuck you.” + 89. “Be careful, sweetheart. Do you really think that's a good idea?” + 90. “You’re playing a dangerous game, girl" word count: 3719 words warnings: sexual innuendos, star wars swears, brief mentions of trauma from readers past authors note: it's here! One last little chapter before I go into full moving mode. Not sure when the next one will be, but Im workin on it!! I love these two crazies, Im not gonna lie. And yes, I went toally ham on that prompt list, but its the best. As always reblogs/likes are appreciated, and if you wanna be tagged in the rest of the series let me know!!

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

The look shared between you and the 10 foot tall bantha says more than words ever could. 

“I am not riding all the way to Mos Espa on a bantha.” You announce, going on instinct to fold your arms in defiance across your chest, before realising your hands are bound. It frustrates you even more and you huff, one more mishap away from stamping your foot like a child.

Arthur seems unphased by your tantrum. Amused, even. 

“Well, you got two choices, Princess. You can ride up there with me, or I’m sure Boadicea here will gladly drag you along behind…” You roll your eyes, sighing in great defeat, hating that you’ve lost so much control of this situation so quickly. And of course he’s named the damn bantha. 

“Your ‘choices’ suck, you know that? It’s not a choice if one of the options is death or getting dragged across the Dune sea by my broken limbs.” 

Maker help him, he laughs, taking that as answer enough and hoisting himself up onto the saddle by the stirrups. You watch on, unimpressed, as he places his helmet back on and it hisses quietly.  He extends a hand out to help you up and shuffles back in his seat.

When you figure out how exactly this is going to work, you feel your throat dry up, more so than it already is from 18 hours exposed to the elements of the desert. He wants you in front of him, where your back will surely press up against his chest, literally caging you in with those huge arms to keep his hands on the reins. All that contact… 

“No way. We’re not gonna both fit on there.” You shake your head, taking a step backwards. Arthur doesn’t flinch, knowing if you ran now you’d be dead in days, especially with those cuffs on.

“You shoulda’ thought about that before you tried to knock me out and run away, little mouse.” 

Anxiety bounces around your frame at the idea. Ever since that night, the one that changed everything, you hate being touched by others, especially in such close proximity. But what choice do you have? It’s getting hot, and you’re not sure you’d survive a trek across the desert on your feet… Plus, possibly more terrifying than death by sand, he was just touching you everywhere, during your fight. And somehow, you didn’t hate it. It wasn’t like every other time you’ve been touched… The feel of his hard body covering the length of you, his bulge prodding firmly against your thigh as he pinned your wrists down deep into the sand… 

You’re getting distracted. 

“Urgh. Fine. But don’t get any ideas, beroya.” You lift your wrists, letting him grab your hands to help you mount Boadicea. When you swing your leg around, it settles you into the saddle, up close and personal with your captor. His hard chest presses firmly against your back, thighs around yours and crotch in serious danger of grinding up against your ass with each step the bantha makes. You think back to the fight, expecting to regret it, but instead find yourself trying awfully hard not to think about how thrilling it was to have a big, bad bounty hunter on top of you like that…

Maker, what has gotten into you?!

Well… nothing. Maybe that’s the problem… you swore yourself away from all of that after you were shown just how cruel the Galaxy can be, all too focused on the plight of survival once you became such a high value target. But now… well, it’s clearly messing with your head, because there is no way in hell you should be thinking about the hard-on of the man destined to be your end… You make a mental note to get laid once this is over… If this is over. 

When Arthur clicks the reins and Boadicea the bantha starts to walk, you clamp your jaw shut and your breaths come out as sighs, in an attempt to show him just how furious you are at this turn of events. The grinding of your teeth is all part of the act, you tell yourself, and not at all a method of distracting yourself from the ripple of muscle you feel pressed flush against your back. You can feel him breathe, could swear you can feel a soft thrum of his heart as the scent of campfires and cigarettes infiltrates your senses. He’s all consuming, in the most infuriating ways, shuffling logic right out of your mind. 

There’s a tension in the tiny gap between you, one that spikes every time Boadicea moves in a way that presses your ass further up against Arthur’s crotch and you’re sure his breath hitches at each point of contact.

“So-” He starts, his voice sounding almost strangled, “How’s a pretty little thing like you end up on the Outer Rim’s Most Wanted list?”

Ah, perfect. Small talk about life’s greatest traumas to distract you from the fact you now know your captor has the biggest dick in the Galaxy. Unlucky for Arthur, you’re not exactly in a sharing mood, so deflection it is.

“Sorry, beroya, the tragic backstory package is locked behind a level of friendship unattainable to the likes of you.” As an added effect, you move your wrists around so the metal of the cuffs clinks against your belt. A reminder of the situation, if you will. 

“Aw, shucks, and here I was thinkin’ you liked me.” He’s all bravado, slapping his thigh comically. You don’t laugh. “Well, just so you know…” He leans closer, and his breath tickles the back of your ear sending a shiver all the way down your spine, “I don’t like you either, princess.” 

Now that does draw a smirk from you. Ugly words are one thing, but biology doesn’t lie, and Arthur’s is screaming the very opposite. You adjust yourself in the saddle again, feeling that very compelling evidence to the contrary rubbing against your flesh.

“Coulda’ fooled me, cowboy.” 

Being situated in front of him, you don’t see Arthur’s hand coming, don’t realise whats happening until gloved fingers wrap around your neck, thumb and forefinger pressing firmly against the pulse points on your throat. You gasp just in time to capture just enough breath for the Mandalorian to trap in your lungs. He’s so close you feel the cool metal of his helmet against your skin, the way he’s holding you forcing you to crane your neck back into him.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, pretty girl. Be careful, mesh’la. Do you really think that’s a good idea?” His warning is growled into your ear, slightly gravelly through the helmet, and you swear you’ve never felt a heat burn so fiercely everywhere. Fuck, the way he’s holding you is possessive, wanting… It ignites a very dangerous flame you’d rather not address, but the way you squirm, that little whimper that escapes your parted lips, says everything that you’d never admit aloud.

You couldn’t even if you wanted to, especially when he squeezes just that bit tighter and you feel your heart beating in your flushed cheeks. A witty retort would be just in character, but words fail you as your binded hands attempt to scratch uselessly through the leather of his thick gloves. Boadicea continues her trek, unaware that you’re all but soaking the poor girls saddle through.

“Just cause you’re pretty, doesn’t mean you can get away with just anything. Not with me, sweetheart.” You hear every rasp in his voice, the years he’s lived and fought branding it like scars. When he relinquishes the pressure, just a little, the blood rushes back into your face and you know it’s your turn to talk. He’s expecting obedience, and you’ll be damned if you comply, even if he holds your lifeforce between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You… You think I’m pretty? Gee, Arthur, I don’t think you’re supposed to-” He doesn’t let you finish, the frustration at you manifesting into another soul quaking growl as he squeezes harder.

“Do you really think that behaving like that is going to get you want you want, you little brat?” 

…Kriff. You’ve been labelled as difficult before, but never in a way that leaves you panting like this. Fuck, this is not how it’s supposed to go. He’s going to have you killed, and yet your panties are soaking through. You’re losing the last scraps of power you once clung to so vehemently… but Maker does it feel good…

“Listen here, Princess. I ain’t blind, alright? You’re a pretty girl. But I ain’t stupid, either. Half the time I can’t tell if I wanna kill you or fuck you, but that don’t mean shit, cause ever since I got those binders on you, you’ve been mine, alright? So shut that pretty little mouth of yours before I shut it for you. Now, are you gonna behave for me? Or am I gonna have to force you?”

The defiance that blazed in your eyes dies there, your mouth opening and closing pathetically as you fail to find something to say. All you can do is nod, the small movements he’ll allow of you, at least. 

“Good girl.”

You gasp out for the dry air of the desert, and it feels like being washed under a stream after the longest drought. Your fingers rub over the reddened skin of your neck, easing the ache just slightly. 

Arthur grabs the reins again, smacking them lightly to speed Boadicea up. 

You say nothing, trying desperately to extinguish whatever the hell is happening between your legs.

Half the time I can’t tell if I wanna kill you or fuck you.

I can’t tell if I wanna kill you or fuck you.

…kill you or fuck you

The words swim around your mind for the next few hours of the silent, torturous ride. The desert air is hot, but you’d rather marry a wookie than ask for the water your throat is crying out for. The tension between you and Arthur hasn’t dwindled for a second, and you’re putting more blame on that than the suns beating down on you relentlessly for your flustered state. The only relief you get is from knowing its just as hard for Arthur… literally. Knowing he’s just as uncomfortable, all thanks to you, is all the consolation you need. 

The skies are starting to cast an orange glow across your skin as the suns both begin to reach the horizon. You’re not too far out from Mos Espa now, but Boadicea is slowing significantly, and you can tell she’s ready for a break, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur swings his thigh from around you to dismount. He leaves you sitting there for a moment while he pulls off his helmet, hanging it next to the saddlebag that he pulls an oat cake out of for Boadicea . 

“There, there, good girl…” he coos to her, patting her thick fur. His words of praise bring you right back to when he said that to you, and it infuriates and arouses you in equal amounts to remember the moment. You hate yourself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that leaves you dizzy. 

Eventually, after petting the only woman you’re sure Arthur Morgan will ever love, he returns to you, holding out a hand to help you down,

“M’lady.” He nods sarcastically and you roll your eyes, making a point to slide off the saddle without his help, landing less than gracefully and taking a second to steady yourself. Arthur shakes his head as he watches you, before turning back to the saddle bag and pulling out a variety of things you’ll need to camp. 

“We’re stopping here?” You ask, voice a little hoarse from the dehydration and protestful lack of speech. Looking around, you can’t see anything but sand. You’re less than enthusiastic about a night here, alone with him, but you’re not exactly the one making the decisions here.

“Well, unfortunately for us, your highness, the palace was booked full, and we’re in the middle of the Dune Sea.” He explains while he starts to unroll the singular bedroll. You sit down in the sand, crossing your legs beneath you with a childish pout on your lips. Oh, how you wish you could get these damn binders off. They’re so uncomfortable, and it’s been hours. 

Arthur gathers enough dry wood from around the area to build a decent fire, dusting the sand away and setting them up like he’s done this a thousand times over. You know the feeling, so long ago forced out from your home and set on the run for the remainder of this lonely life. It makes you wonder if Arthur has a home of his own, a family. Watching him as intently as you are, seeing those tired eyes… somehow you know he doesn’t. Maybe once, maybe in a different life… but you know the look of loneliness well, you see her every time you come face to face with a mirror, and he embodies it. As sad as it is, it makes sense. A loving family man just wouldn’t be cut out for this kind of life.

There’s only one sun left now, the skies above a stunning gradient from orange to purple, all the way to the inky blues on the other side of the horizon. It takes Arthur no time at all to have the fire going, positioning his bedroll out next to it. He gestures for you to sit on it, but you’re stubbornly deciding the sand a few feet away would be better. Arthur snorts,

“Suit yourself.”

He returns one last time to the saddle bag, pulling out some cans, a flask, and a pouch of something wrapped in cloth. By the time he sits beside the fire, it’s roaring

“Hungry?” He asks, extending an arm to offer you the flask. A hesitation, while you decide if you’d rather kill your pride or die of hunger and thirst. It’s a tough choice, but you eventually nod and take the flask in both hands. It takes you a second to figure out how to open it with bound hands, and Arthur seems to take great joy in your attempts, until you manage to squish the flask between your knees and twist the cap off. It takes a lot of restraint to not gulp the whole thing down when that first drop hits your tongue, but both of you still have a ways to go before your destination, so you don’t. The pass back is reluctant, as is the tiny ‘thank you’ you mutter under your breath.

“Oh, look at you, princess, finding your manners.” He takes a sip of his own, starting to unwrap the little parcel to reveal some slices of meat and pulling a knife from his holster to crack the tins open. Part of you wants to prove his point, to growl at him and fight back, but you’re pretty damn hungry, so you stay quiet, silently plotting another escape.

As Arthur starts to work on the food, pouring beans into a little metal pot, he glances at you, finding amusement in your tantrum. 

“You gonna come join me for some food or keep sulkin’? Either way’s fine by me, I’ll have your extras if you don’t want ‘em.” It doesn’t take very long at all for the beans to cook when he holds them over the flame, the aroma reaching your nostrils soon enough. Even for just beans, it smells good, probably cause you haven’t eaten since back in the Cantina, which feels like 3 lifetimes ago right now. Your stomach grumbles pointedly, and you’re forced to swallow your pride and gracefully stand, stomping sand everywhere as you sit right on the edge of the bedroll, as far away from Arthur (by mere inches) as possible.

He raises a taunting brow, “For someone who acts like they hate me, you sure do find ways to get real close to me.” Line thrown, hook absolutely smothered in bait.

The fury in your eyes gives the campfire a run for its credits, “Well if that isn’t the Quacta  calling the Stifling slimy- you’ve been all over me since the Cantina, rubbing your cock against my ass for the last day!”

You know the victory is Arthur’s with the way he smirks at your outburst, like winding you up is his favourite pastime. He’s holding back a laugh, you can tell because his crows feet crease deeper and his lip twitches. Hook, line and sinker. 

There’s a pause, surely being spent figuring out how else to annoy you, before Arthur picks up a slice of the jerky he brought and offers it to you, “...Want some meat?” 

… You’re going to kill him in his sleep. 

Too hungry to refuse, you snatch it off him and take an aggressive bite, the eye contact you’re shooting lasers with never breaking. Maybe it’s the hunger talking, but it tastes so good you almost moan. Almost, though your furious facade might have broken for just a moment. He’s waiting for gratitude, but you have other ideas. 

“I’m not fucking you.” You announce, so out of the blue that Arthur almost chokes on his meat. Now that’d be a sight to see…

“You said you didn’t know whether to kill me or fuck me,” You explain, I’m just telling you ya’ ain’t got chance of either.” 

The offended guffaw you’re after never comes, in its place a look so intense you feel flames lick at your toes and travel up between your thighs. 

“Listen, mesh’la,” He growls the sarcastic term of endearment, and you vibrate, “Just cause I can’t decide if that pretty throat of yours deserves my blade or my cock doesn’t mean you’re getting either. I’ll have you, but only if you’re on your hands and knees begging me for it. I’ve got your fiery little temper worked out, and I know just what fuels it. Don’t worry, little one, you’re safe… for now.”

Dank farrick, how does he do it? Every attempt to rile him thwarted, leaving you flustered, wet, and with your jaw so slack you could catch flies. Maybe silence is the best option, to give him none of your words to twist and pull into whatever this tension between you is. 

You’re not going to fuck him. 

He’s literally holding you prisoner. 

You’re not going to fuck him. 

He’s bringing you back to them. 

You’re not going to-

“Y’alright there, princess? Keep lookin’ at me like that and I’ll think you’ve changed your mind.”

“You’re infuriating.” You spit back, finishing the last of your jerky with another angry bite.

“And here was me thinkin’ we were becoming friends…”

“What?! No. Nu-uh. No way.”

“Well I ain’t leaving you to run off on me. I’m not an idiot.”

“That’s up for debate…” you mumble, just loud enough for him to decipher your words. You’re not helping your case, Arthur holding his hands out expectantly as he awaits your compliance.

“Arthur,” you start, realising you’ve never actually said his name out loud before, liking the way it feels forming on your tongue, hating that fact. “Neither of us are gonna sleep a wink if I’m strapped to you.” 

He has little other choice. You know that, knowing there’s no way he’d trust you to not stab him in his sleep and run away. Smart guy, considering you’d already considered that very plan extensively. But no, he had to be difficult. He’s already stashed his knife with Boadicea, who is laid too far away to reach.

“Hindsight is clear as day, Princess. Maybe next time don’t try to run.” Pfft. Next time. There won’t be a next time, thanks to him. 

Running out of patience, Arthur takes a step towards you, and you take one step backwards. He reaches for the binders and you lift them away. It’s a dance, one he quickly tires of and grips onto your forearm before you can move it. 

His touch burns your skin, even through the gloves, and the fight leaves your body near instantly. His grip is firm, bruising, almost, and that devilish part of you enjoys it.

Would being chained to him for a night really be so bad…?

“Fine. Whatever. But keep your hands to yourself, mando. And you better not snore.”

“Of course, of course… wouldn’t wanna interrupt that beauty sleep, now, would I?” He sarcastically huffs, wrapping rope around the middle part of your binders that keeps your wrists together. Watching him twist and turn the rope around his huge hands does something to you, and you start to wonder if this man can do absolutely anything that won’t turn you on somehow. You’ve gotta knock this off, it’s getting dangerous, especially considering you’re about to share a bedroll tied to him. 

His rope isn’t the longest, giving only a few feet of space between the two of you as he loops it through his belt and around his own arm, knotted so intricately it would be impossible to untie without waking him up. An expert in rope tying… of course he is.

Pushing thoughts of other uses for that skill of his far, far away, you watch your escape plan fall apart before your eyes, every detail somehow preemptively thwarted by Arthur’s actions as if he could read your mind. Maker, you hope he can’t, they’ve been pretty much in bed with him since he bought you that drink back in the Cantina. 

Arthur sits down in the sand, the rope tugging at you to do the same. Notably, he leaves the bedroll for you, situating himself on the ground as far away as the rope will allow. And they said chivalry is dead…

“So we just… sleep? Here?” Your brows are pulled together, a sure sign of how displeased you are at this whole situation. 

“Well I could read ya’ a bedtime story, but some say I don’t get the voices quite right…” By the time you go to glare at him, he’s already laying in the sand, gazing up at the sea of stars. You sigh, taking that as answer enough. 

Silence, just for a moment. 

“G’night, princess…”

“...Goodnight, beroya.” 

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfic #star wars #tha mandalorian #crossover #star wars crossover #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction

[trainingdummyrabbit]

IM BACK. CANT BE NORMAL ABOUT THIS. [limbusspoilers]

first to get it out of my system

UAGHUDHIUHGHHHGBHHHGH . AUHGHG. A.

ok. so compass right. this is not going to be coherent. im 5 min off the canto and this one hit Hard. sorry <33

ok so seeing the boss track In Action. Hits DIFFERENT. absolutely stunning buildup with the backing, the constant; dull; distant pulse of a heartbeat, the ticking of static, cuts in of those ambient cries, the echo of a sonars blip like water drops in a puddle.

the entire thing is encompassed by this almost stifling feeling of softness, distance, like staring through a dream. it nails the feeling of drifting deep beneath the waves, unmoving- the way things are almost clear, yet far beyond your reach.

this stifling feeling of loss, a cry only just held back by the muffling effects of the pressure above, building, or maybe always there. how it wades in, calmly, this cold, angry distance. the fading sensation of light swallowed by layers and layers of murky water.

and as it progresses, that crushing buzz of the static takes over, rising, that voice becoming more strained and sharp along with it. that backing melody becomes nigh silent as it drops into silence, all focus on one, tantilizingly close point, before...

everything rushes forward at once, a deluge. nothing will quite hit as hard as the image of ishmael pulling the rope and harpoon tight, the lyrics accompanying-- to tear yourself away from something you considered to be all you are, clinging tight to a lifeline, the rush of the noise around you as it all comes crashing down, due to your own hand, your own realization-- your own desires. "hold on tight--" as a call for support, in desperation, not just to call forth the imagery of that sailing crew-- but as a plea directed inwards, almost, to plant your feet and survive.

and the gentle, almost broken in-and-out, "high tide / low tide," accompanied by nothing but the ticking of a clock as everything else falls to silence.

songs that sound like screaming into a storm, an impulsive, defiant challenge towards that which could swallow you up in an instant. songs that sound like bared teeth my beloved.

now the disclaimer this is, again, all ive seen of limbus in person. i am going to be wrong about things. bear with me.

FUCKING ADORE how ahab is written. holy fucking shit. such an easily likeable character, grand and sweeping and confident, loud and solid in an otherwise uncertain and hopeless situation. she calls attention, she crushes doubt in an instant as if it were nothing more than silt beneath her heel. and what a fantastically written character.

and what im happiest about, i think, is that ishmael was right about her. she hadnt changed. even in her flurry to rush in, she was Right.

such an easy figure to follow, such a bright beacon to carve the path ahead. of course you would want to believe her. and even more striking, they almost do. they all have this split moment of doubt, right at the cusp of it all-- and they catch on. its so so good watching that realization dawn not just on them, but on myself as well, to stand back and go "oh. oh she's good."

its done that several times in this chapter-- a moment of "oh. oh god this is what they're doing." RIGHT as the cast does themselves. ishmael, the color of the sunset. ahab, tugging anyone who listens into the pull of her wake. their obsession, their desires, the "i wanted to be like you." the "we are the same, now."

queequeg. end sentence.

and how everything builds up upon itself, swirling itself into a spiral. abandon all common sense in the great lakes. whale oil, which dissolves and assimilates all that comes to contact with it. the cocoon, the compass, the rope. the pale, the whale.

it was very fun cheering for ishy as she pressed forward recklessly, and i knew they were going to address that somehow. that single point of obsession-- seeing how they handled it though, was truly something else. i was Not expecting the track to be so... mellow, walking in. and yet, it encompassed everything in such a fascinating way, one that didnt just repeat what had been said, but altered it completely. gave it depth. it was not some brazen cry of rage and grief-- its the fluid yet firm grasp of everything thatd built up to that point. and i respect it so so deeply for that. i could not be happier.

so basically i

#piktalk #projmoon #FOR COURTESY AGAIN #LimbusSpoilers. oh my god this is so limbusspoilers. ok o/ #anyway glad i decided to plunge directly in; this . this. ohhhh this.

[husky-studies]

Helloooo!

I read your Clara & Brother figure reader headcannons (not who requested them, as I'm sure you can surmise), and I found them absolutely adorable!

I was wondering if I could maybe request a sort of... sequel, of sorts to that?

like, a mix, part-headcannon part-drabble one-shot type thing set during Clara's quest line in the game. Like, what could possible be different with Big Bro's presence, what interactions between them and the Astral Express crew could be like. That sorta thing.

It's 100% if you don't want to do this though! I get that I might be asking a bit much lol

Meeting the Crew

Concept: the reader meets the astral express crew (March, Dan Heng, and Trailblazer)

Character(s): astral express crew, clara, mentions of svarog; pascal, as the previous request its still male reader

Warning(s): none but the reader's relationship with everyone is strictly platonic

Note(s): HELLO ANON, GLAD YOU LIKE IT. Im not sure which part of the quest you were talking about but i wrote the one where they were in the Great Mine. I HOPE YOU ENJOY

-You were just accompanying Clara and Svarog in the mines along witb a few other Automatons

-They were talking about something, you weren't really paying attention to them

-All you really knew was that Clara wanted Svarog to help the conflict between the vagrants and miners

-It was then you feel another presence with you, you looked back and saw some people

-Seele was one of them, and then there were other people with her. One seemed like someone from The Overworld. The other three looks like they weren't even from anywhere on Belobog

"Svarog! We haven't settled our final score." Seele said as her and the group are approaching us. I stood beside Clara, silently watching them. "Seele, subordinate to Wildfire... Your resistance is futile. The result of my calculation is unequivocal. Remaining in the Underworld is the optimal strategy for survival." Svarog said, bringing out his calculations yet again. Seele sighed. "This again... Calculation results, survival strategies... I haven't got time for your thesis. Withdraw your forces, or i'll lose my temper." Seele warned. Svarog didn't take it to granted, instead opted to tell Clara about how unavoidable division and conflict is. "But Mr. Svarog..." Before Clara could continue, I finished her sentences for her. "Didn't you say you wanted to protect the people in the Underworld? Well with the conflict currently brewing in here, it could go for the worse and the Underworld would be in a much more haywire situation than now, Mr Svarog." Clara nodded at that as well, I'm not sure if she understands but at least she's trying. "Big brother is here as well huh..." Seele muttered while looking at you. "Big brother? He's Clara's big brother?" March asked.

-A few more exchanged of words, of course the group and Svarog engage into a fight

-Svarog doesn't allow you to engage into it, but rather to stay by Clara's side

-After the whole fighting subdued, some of the crew asked Seele more about you and Seele, albeit a bit aggressive as usual, told them

-March and the Trailblazer felt bad about your missing limb. Although Trailblazer thought it makes you look cooler

-Dan Heng finds you tough for going this far with a missing limb. He also finds your cybernetic arm cool 👍

Tag(s): none

#honkai star rail #honkai x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr march 7th #hsr dan heng #hsr trailblazer #hsr seele

[direwombat]

a possessive kiss that is meant to stake a claim . + Sybille and Jacob?

another installment of me chipping my way through the prompts in my askbox. have a late-game katc moment where the gang (guns for hire) find out that syb's a peggie now :)

2.2k

It isn’t uncommon for Sybille to disappear for days on end. 

She’s a private person who values her alone time, and considering how much she’s done for the county since Joseph declared the Reaping, Grace is willing to grant her privacy. Without her, John would still be terrorizing the Holland Valley, and Faith — or, Rachel, as she’s going by nowadays — would still be infecting everyone’s minds with Bliss. Without Sybille, the Resistance wouldn’t have been able to organize in the way that they have. 

Without her, they’d still be fighting for survival, rather than making the organized efforts in dethroning Joseph Seed from his reign of terror. She stepped up when no one else would and became the leader the county needed. 

The poor woman has been to Hell and back more times than Grace cares to count. The woman works herself to the bone and barely sleeps. If she decides she needs some time to disconnect and get some rest, Grace isn’t going to stop her. 

Even machines break down if they’re not taken care of properly. 

But, after going a week without hearing from her, Grace starts getting antsy, and after another few days of radio silence, she decides to take matters into her own hands. 

She has a map of the Whitetails spread out over the table of one of the booths at the 8-Bit, desperately trying to get Nick, Hurk and Sharky to fucking pay attention. Last she heard, Sybille was in the Whitetails, which means that odds are she’s being held prisoner at the Veterans Center. And that means doing recon is essential. 

Jacob Seed is fucking smart. They can’t just go in guns blazing if they want to rescue her. 

“You know who’d be real good help here is Boomer,” Sharky says. ��That guy could sniff out every Peggie in a ten mile radius! Locks onto Peggie B-O like a fuckin’ missile.” His grin falters and his heavy brow furrows as he frowns. “Where is he, anyways? I ain’t seen him around in a while.” 

“Might’ve gotten captured along with Syb,” Hurk says thoughtfully. “She said that John was gonna send ‘im up north before she freed ‘im, right?”

Nick groans in dismay. “Shit, Jacob better not be turnin’ him into one of the Judges. I don’t think I got the heart to kill old Boomie if he attacked me, y’know?”

“All the more reason for you all to focus,” Grace grits through her teeth. “Now, can we please —”

“Hey, y’all?” Adelaide calls from where she stands behind the bar, fixing herself her third cocktail of the hour. “I ain’t gonna say you’ll all want to see this, but, uh… I think y’all should.” 

“What is it, Mama?” Hurk asks. 

“I don’t — I can’t…” It’s the first time Grace has ever heard the woman at a loss for words. She’s usually so easy to joke -- the more serious the situation the more inappropriate the comment -- but when Grace locks eyes with her, all she sees is fear. “Just come look at the TV.” 

Grace’s stomach drops. 

Ever since the Cult took over, nothing good has been playing on TV anywhere in the county. Most days it's just broadcasts of Joseph’s sermons interspersed with other programs that are blatant Cult propaganda — cult song sing-alongs and storytimes led by the former-Faith, John’s alleged “self-help” programs, and, perhaps the only useful things that play between segments: Jacob’s five-minute survivalist tips. But every now and then, the Cult puts out something new. Something that looks more at home in a horror film than it does on public television. 

The broadcast of Deputy Pratt, ankle deep in water, tied to a chair, sobbing and pleading for his life will forever be burned into Grace’s memory. 

She and the boys slip out of the booth and all cautiously approach the television resting on the bartop. The video quality is poor — dark and fuzzy — but when she makes out the figure on the screen, she claps a hand over her mouth. 

“Shit,” she breathes. 

At the same time Nick cries out, “Jesus Christ!”

Standing, at attention, before the red-and-black version of the Peggie flag and dressed in the garb of the Chosen is the Deputy. She stares into the camera, her face calm and expressionless. No fear or anger; she remains stoic as the soldier she is. 

The camera zooms in for a moment and then back out, focusing on her face before the voice of Jacob Seed sounds from offscreen. “State your name for the record.”

“Sybille Marie La Roux,” she answers. 

Jacob steps forward, just enough so that only one of his broad shoulders is in frame. “Do you, Sybille Marie La Roux, solemnly swear to support and defend the Project at Eden’s Gate against all enemies, both foreign and domestic?”

The words ring bizarrely familiar in Grace’s mind, and it takes her a moment to recognize them as a bastardized version of the Army’s Oath of Commissioned Officers. Her breath hitches and dread roils in her gut. It twinges painfully when Sybille answers with a firm, “Yes, sir.” 

“Do you swear to bear true Faith and Allegiance in the Father and the Project?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bullshit,” Nick hisses under his breath. Bullshit, she’s swearing this oath of her own free will. Surely, Jacob did something to coerce her into this. 

But what if he didn’t? What if she is joining the Cult of her own volition?

Grace’s jaw clenches so tight that her ears ache. 

“And do you swear to well and faithfully discharge the duties asked of you by the Father and your Commander?”

“Yes, sir.” 

Jacob steps further into frame, completely obscuring Sybille from view. There’s the distinctive sound of a knife being unsheathed and Grace catches the red flash of its handle as he appears to lift one of Sybille’s hands and presses the blade against the soft flesh of her forearm. “Then in the name of the Father, I appoint you Judge, Jury, and Executioner of Eden’s Gate.” He wipes the knife against his jeans and slips it back into its sheath, and lifts his hand to draw something on the woman’s forehead. “May you act as God’s Divine Wrath and enact His judgment against our adversaries.” 

“Yes, sir.”

He leans down to pick something up and then moves to circle behind her, revealing the red cross he drew on her forehead. It matches the blood that stains the faces of the wolves he’s tortured into submission. Leaning down, his lips brush the shell of her ear and he eyes the camera with a sadistic smirk. 

Even where she stands, miles away from the Whitetails, Grace barely suppresses a shudder. It may be a video recording, yet she still feels like he can see them through the screen. 

“Praise be to the Father,” he says, low and breathy, with the intimacy of a lover.

Sybille lifts her hand to her forehead in salute. “Praise be to the Father,” she repeats. 

What happens next stuns everyone into utter silence. 

As Sybille’s hand falls back down to rest by her side, Jacob is wrapping a hand around to cradle her jaw and tilt her head up and towards him. It’s so quiet that Grace nearly misses it, but he mutters a quiet, “Good girl,” before leaning down to capture Sybille’s lips in a devouring, open-mouthed kiss. Her eyes flutter shut and she leans back against him, allowing his tongue to plunge hungrily into her mouth. Small, whimpering moans are pulled from her every time their lips move. As she tilts her head back to give Jacob easier access, the red scarf wrapped around her neck slips, revealing a band of leather wrapped around her throat. 

A sharp gasp flies from Adelaide’s lips and she covers her mouth and nose with both hands, muffling the quiet “Oh no…” as her eyes go wide. Nick’s face goes red. Whether it’s in anger or second-hand embarrassment, Grace isn’t sure, and both Hurk and Sharky’s mouths hang agape, absolutely dumbfounded. 

The Chosen uniform, the collar, the kiss — Jacob might as well be fucking her on camera. Not only has Sybille pledged her allegiance to the Cult, but she’s allowed herself to be claimed by one of the most ruthless men Grace has had the displeasure of meeting. 

When they part, Sybille’s lips are swollen and her eyes are glassy. Jacob’s arm wraps around her waist, pulling her back and holding her against him. Her head leans back and she melts into him,, seeming to forget that the camera is still there. 

But Jacob doesn’t. Piercing blue eyes focus back on the lens to address those watching. “Let it be known to all who stand in opposition to the Project: the Sword of Justice will be swift and merciless.” Everyone lets out a horrified gasp when he lifts Eli’s head — severed from his body — into frame by the hair. “Your sins will be weighed and judged. Those deemed worthy, those deemed willing to repent, will be spared. Those who aren’t…” he trails off, lips quirking smugly upwards as he glances at the decapitated head in his hand, “...will be set free.” His gaze snaps back to the camera. “This is the will of the Father.”

The video cuts out, replaced by static before it begins to loop. 

Adelaide turns the TV off, and all those gathered stare at the blank screen in horrified silence. 

Sharky is the one brave enough  to shatter it. “W…we’re gonna help her, right?” he asks, looking to the rest of the group with round, pleading eyes. 

“She’s gotta be brainwashed,” Nick says shakily. The flush of his face has given way to a sickly green. “The conditioning…there’s gotta be a way to deprogram her,” he says before tacking on an uncertain, “Isn’t there?” 

Adelaide’s brows knit together, and she looks to the boys apologetically. “Sugar, I ain’t so sure there’s anythin’ we can do.” 

“Why not?” Sharky asks. His voice is small, almost childlike. 

Grace’s stomach churns. “Because she’s exactly where she wants to be,” she says grimly. 

“What — how…?” Nick stammers. 

Adelaide taps at her throat. “The collar, honey,” she explains. “Y’all’ve met her. You think she’d be wearin’ that if she didn’t want to? You think she’d let him do that to her on camera if she weren’t at least a little into it?”

A wave of disgust washes through Grace. To think that the woman who helped her defend her Pops’ grave and saved Falls End — the woman she looked up to as a leader and commander — is now Jacob Seed’s pet. 

“I’ll be damned,” Adelaide sighs. “The military kink I kinda expected, but I ain’t ever woulda pegged her as a sub.” She knocks back the martini she’d been holding in her hand and grimaces again. “Guess we know why we ain’t heard from her or Eli in a while.” 

“Fuck,” Nick hisses. “Shit.” He drags his hand over his face and rubs at his beard. “How — how the hell did we miss this?” 

Grace sighs wearily and leans over the bar, pulling up the first drink her hand touches. Unscrewing the cap, she doesn’t bother with a glass and drinks whiskey straight from the bottle. 

At first she thought the delegation of missions was just Sybille being a good leader. It’s impossible for her to do everything, and, at the time, it made sense to have teams attacking outposts and doing what they could while Sybille was elsewhere in the county. But then she thinks about how much time Sybille had spent in the Whitetails — how whenever she disappeared for days at a time, it was always when she was up north. How she was always so irritable, almost volatile, whenever Grace had asked about how her “solo-missions” went whenever she returned. 

It’s easier to spot the red flags in retrospect. Hindsight is a bitch like that.

Sybille always played things close to her chest, hiding problems until they couldn’t be hidden anymore. Ever since the night she dug herself out of her own grave and struck Joey during Burke and Virgil’s funeral, Grace has known that something was wrong with Sybille. But she always assumed that they were close enough — that she was trusted enough — that she would confide in her if something was weighing on her shoulders. 

And maybe that’s Grace’s fault. Maybe she should have pressed harder or checked in more often. 

Not that it matters anymore. They all missed the writing on the wall, and while Eli was the first to bear the consequences, he certainly won’t be the last. 

The county’s greatest hope has turned into its biggest nightmare, and now they need to figure out how to fight it. 

Abruptly, the door to the 8-Bit swings open with enough force that it bashes against the wall. They all whip around, pulling their sidearms from their holsters.

Stumbling through the door is a man dressed in Peggie garb. His hair and beard blend into one dark, tangled mass around his face, and his bright green eyes are bloodshot and wild. Wheaty leans against him, his arm wrapped around the Peggie’s shoulders, while his other hand is pressed against his abdomen. Blood oozes between his fingers and he’s barely clinging to consciousness. 

“My name is Augustine La Roux,” the Peggie says, looking to all of them with fearful desperation. “I need your help.”

#my writing #oc: deputy sybille la roux #r: define your meaning of war #is this the final version of this scene? no. #but it's fun to explore and draft things that happen so far from where i am currently drafting #wip: kneeling at the crossroads #my fic

[qbebou]

ok not to be like he’s just like me fr…. but chayanne is just like me fr…..

i’m also the oldest child with one younger sibling who needed a lot more care when we were kids and therefore was deprived of certain needs in favor of my brother. i also had a parent that was missing a lot and depended almost solely on my dad. obviously tallulah needs more help than chay, with her asthma and lesser fighting skills, not to mention she had only been playing minecraft for like a month? or two before wilbur found her. and chay knows that! he knows that she needs more help than he does he knows he’ll do anything for her he knows he has to be the strongest to protect her. my brother and i are only a year apart but i was forced to grow up very very quickly bc i was on my own a lot as a kid while my brother was sick. phil doesn’t worry abt chay when he runs off bc he doesn’t need to, chay can take care of himself. hell, he took care of all the eggs when they first left. but at the same time, it’s comforting to know ur parent is looking out for u even when u don’t need it. phil’s not a smothering parent, he’s attentive, but not smothering. but let’s be real he can also be emotionally constipated LMAO but that leads to situations like the argument and frustration between chay and tallulah when dapper was kidnapped. in his defense, he’s never been a parent before and had 2 children thrust upon him to raise on his own. he didn’t have a lot of time to adjust to parenthood like ppl in real life do, he suddenly had 2 children who had their own thoughts and opinions and emotional needs, he didn’t get the time it takes to LEARN abt how to provide that specific care and while some ppl have that innate knowledge there is a lot of learning and navigating when it comes to emotional vulnerability and regulation esp when it comes to children who are figuring it out as well. i feel for chay when he thinks he needs to be the strongest. i feel for chay when he had to make the decision to gather the eggs and leave. i feel for chay when he had to take blame for bad things happening. and i feel for chay when he realized tallulah doesn’t need him as much anymore. my brother and i are both adults now and we had a …… tumultuous relationship as teenagers for reasons that were both our own and caused by problems outside our control. but i still remember exactly how devastating it was the moment i realized that he was fine on his own. that he didn’t need me anymore. and it caused a rift between us; on my end bc i was frustrated and felt tossed aside and on his end bc he NEEDED to be independent to keep growing. i see so much of myself in chay and i desperately wish he and tallulah had a better mediator for their argument, or at least someone who could truly understand why they were so upset. i don’t think phil clocked that tallulah was so upset and adamant abt looking for dapper bc it was just her dapper and ramon surviving on their own. just bc phil didn’t witness it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen and it doesn’t mean that they don’t have a much tighter relationship than they had before purgatory. and when chayanne said everyone was blaming him for the decisions he made phil was quick to tell him that no one was blaming him but also phil doesn’t know that! he doesn’t know if any blame was put on chayanne when it was just the eggs together. chayanne made the decision for the eggs to run and they trusted him bc he’s the oldest and he’s strong and he can be a leader but by running he also put the eggs thru a lot of pain and fear that they may not have gone thru if they stayed with their parents. and even if the eggs didn’t explicitly say that they blamed chayanne im sure he blamed himself for every little thing that went wrong. we’ve already seen him open up a tiny bit abt how he was questioning his decision to leave. but phil told him that chay made the best decision he could have given the information he had at the time which is true! but when ur the oldest and everyone is looking to u, all of the responsibility lies on ur shoulders. chayanne has been carrying SO much weight on his shoulders for so long it breaks my heart.

#lex.txt #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #qsmp #i have so much more i could say abt chayanne tallulah and their relationship but unfortunately ! i am not allowed to write more than this #please excuse my rambling run on sentences and lack of proper punctuation #i type the way i speak in my head and usually that means no pauses no breaks everything flows like word vomit i apologize if things #don’t make sense #i think if this was happening when i was younger i wouldn’t have all these feelings but like #my brother has a toddler that i’ve been helping raise since he was born #that is MY baby i spend the most time with him he’s the closest to me out of anyone #and i think that if i didn’t have any parenting experience i would also handle things a lot like how phil does #i think the several years of therapy have also helped with my parenting LOL #anyways i wrote this a while back and it’s been sitting in my drafts #chay is so sacrificial and i think a lot of it comes from phil putting pressure on him to be strong #he literally said he should’ve been the one to die instead of empanada!!!!! he thinks the eye attacks are his fault #i just wish he could be a kid and do the things he wants to do without worrying that he or his siblings will die #poor sweet boy :( he shouldn’t be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders but he doesn’t think he has the option not to

[cogbreath]

ngl even tho i had faith in both you and allah that whatever you had done would not be the end of you i WAS worried still so yeah like everyone else is saying i'm also rly glad that you're recovering. congrats on surviving life's bullshit yet again my friend. may the next one maybe be less painful tho bc that did/does not sound like a fun time

jazakallah khair ❤️

and i do wanna apologise for worrying you guys. we all do know that i didnt mean to but i do understand how even when we r aware of that, it can still hurt and be scary to see someone u care about end up in a situation like that and it can be confusing and frustrating cuz of the fact its so clearly not a good thing to do to oneself. but im rlly rlly thankful that despite all that you guys have it in your hearts to be so so gentle and kind to me which seriously means the world to me

im not entirely sure how bad my situation really was, because it's honestly difficult for me to remember how much i actually ended up drinking, my memory is rlly blurry about it but i do know that i did pass out for a while. i wasn't exactly worried at first that i felt that i needed to puke and legit was shocked when i started seeinf it turning red n shit. i wanfed to believe that somehow it was just something i ate that was also red but when i started tasting the taste of iron i Knew. because it seemed to be becoming more and more bloody i was like. "o fuck." i was still aware of ans believing in the resilience of the human body, reminding myself that people have literally survived getting hit with a particle beam in the head, but nonetheless it doesnt change the fact that vomiting blood is something associated with fatal outcomes. i guess honestly it really doesn't matter either way what the true severity of it was and i shouldn't trouble myself too much about trying to figure it out because no matter what, it was a dangerous and bad situation to be in. also im not detailing more now about what happened so as to be shocking or graphic but like i just want to be honest about it so i can help process it and help u guys have more clarity on what happened now that im not as delirious and panicked as i was when it all went down

i wasnt scared to die and honestly no matter what never will be because of the way my brain is wired about the concept of death, but what i was most scared of was that ppl i care about and that allah would be mad at me. so it helps a lot to have that affirmed that nobodys mad at me and nobody thinks that i'm stupid or had it coming

sorry if this is more than u expected as a response, but you guys are some of the only people i can feel comfortable being truly deeply honest with. i dont ever intend to trouble you with things that arent your job to manage and i dont intend to freak people out. but maybe thats not nice to assume thats what anyone is thinking. ily

[sewercentipede]

didn’t want to clutter up my friends donation post with my thoughts but I can’t even put into words the physical and mental effect homelessness and unstable housing (as in shelter is not a guarantee bc your living conditions are such that at any given moment you might become homeless again by being forced to leave - either literally or to protect yourself) has on a person, even just short term like within just a matter of days it’s fucking brutal. and weeks, months of that, it’s beyond brutal there’s no words …

like when u don’t have housing, just existing suddenly becomes 1,000x harder. ur ability to survive is so deteriorated. every second of every minute of every hour of every day ur fighting for ur life. all of ur energy is devoted to surviving each day and figuring out how ur gonna survive the following day, because it literally takes all ur energy to do that. at all times. it consumes you. when ur in that position, in high stress survival mode with no break/respite (can’t really take a break from homelessness lol), u start deteriorating so fucking fast in every way. ur stressed, tired, hungry, uncomfortable, unsafe, and u feel gross, dirty, depressed, heartbroken, anxious, scared, angry, so incredibly alone…. and the feeling of just, pure horror. you’re drowning or you’re falling from a great height with no parachute. and nobody is coming to save you. it’s bleak. if u can sleep, it’s out of pure exhaustion, and from the moment you wake up you’re plunged into a nightmare. mental resilience and emotional resilience are CRUCIAL to ur survival and ur motivation to survive but the stress and anxiety and pure horror of homelessness fucking deteriorates ur mental/emotional resiliency like it just wrecks it to hell scarily quickly. you’re operating at like 20% physically and mentally, in a situation that demands 100% at all times. It feels goddamn impossible to deal with, every moment. and the only reason it is possible to deal with it is because your body is alive. like, it’s a technicality. and you can genuinely feel the weeks, months, and years being taken off your life because of it all

Idk where I was going with this but goddamn knowing my friend and his poor sweet wife have been feeling all of that for months and now feeling hope being crushed and fear of it all happening again because the housing theyve found being unexpectedly unstable I just … it fucking sucks, to put it lamely. they don’t deserve that, they shouldn’t have to be dealing with that, because housing is a human right. or should be at least. So fuckin disheartening seeing them go thru this shit

a couple ppl have reblogged this post so in case more ppl rb this, im adding my friend’s donation info. please consider donating to him and his wife or boosting his donation post ❤️

C4shapp: $goldenratio1123

V3nmo: @ iwannadaisuki

P4ypal: @ poppybun

#this wasn’t meant to be a donation post but when it got reblogged before having the donation links it felt weird #like it felt wrong ykwim? #just realized I use the word deteriorate like 500 times in this post lmao 😭 #i need a thesaurus