Tumgik
#sorry i took so long to post <3
hermitblurbs · 10 months
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A continuation of my Steampunk AU (7)!
Grian had grown to accept his weird attachment to Scar, if with a bit of hesitance. The other was good conversation in a town where everyone else was incredibly boring. It’s why he stuck around with broken machines so often; there’s nothing to predict about them.
Scar was fixed up, no sign of glitches like in N.P.C or Grumbot, and Grian couldn’t predict him if his life depended on it. Whatever AI in the bot’s brain was fascinating, and the strange logic it followed always managed to keep him enraptured.
It quelled that bored drawl in the back of his mind, on a good day.
Today, even with Scar by his side, seemed to crawl along at a slug’s pace.
The wastes were turning up useless scrap after useless scrap, Mumbo too busy with a commission to entertain him, even the ticking of his wings was the same as ever. They didn’t even ache. At least then, complaining or not, wouldn’t leave him bored.
If he’s being honest, he probably shouldn’t have gone out to scavenge.
Days like these are best kept in line by staying in a place with overarching rules, a guarantee he won’t overstep anything and end up missing more than a chunk of wing.
The wastes don’t have that. They have metal, radiation, rust, and scavengers.
“This is a lot further than we’ve travelled before,” remarks Scar, frayed gas mask making him seem bizarrely human, bizarrely out of place in one of mumbo’s white button up and a false corset. He knows by the whirl of Scar’s fans, that the green metal would be warm to the touch.
He climbs the hill anyway.
There’s the clanging of other scavengers, only two of them at the foot, and they’re pulling something out of a shaking pile that’s large and expensive.
“Ooh, a lucky find for those fellas!”
Grian says nothing in return.
His wings click. Once. Twice.
Take it from them.
He widens his stance, careful not to make a sound on copper and aluminum and iron.
Imagine how excited Mumbo will be.
His wings spread like butter across the sky.
And he jumps. Dives, towards the two.
What should’ve happened was a simple wrap of his hands around the machinery and an arc back into the air and away. What should’ve happened would have been enough to satiate his boredom. What should’ve happened, is that he should have been faster.
What did happen, is that he gets his hands curled around the machine. He’s on the upbeat of his wings, when a hand wraps around his ankle.
He registers the impact. He registers the stars. He registers how the metal crumples beneath him, denting and damaging the scrap.
And then he registers the pain of being slammed into the ground.
“What the fuck, you little asshat!” The nearest one sounds. Their mask is colored the same white as the gleam of a jawbone. They raise a foot and stomp on Grian’s hand, grinding it into the dry dirt with the heel.
He has half a mind to scan the hills for Scar, but the android is lost among the shadows and the piles of scrap encircling them. His heart sinks.
“Hey, dude!” Comes the second one—their mask is layered to look like a growing of fungus. “Take it easy, they’re already down.”
“Their mask is cool,” remarks the third, the one his missed and the one who grabbed him. Their mask is simple and plain, a stark contrast to his own, hooked in the shape of a beak. They’re dressed in dark browns, almost blended completely against the ground.
“That doesn’t matter, they tried to *steal* from us. Why I oughta—“ And they grab his wing.
Something in his mind goes a little haywire. The bones there are fragile, half-molded to metal and muscle, and he does his darnedest to bash their faces in with the prosthetic.
He manages to clip Shrooms across the temple, drawing his knife and lunging at another, but it doesn’t last long. It was never going to last long, three against one. But he gets some good hits in, spills enough blood.
He ends up fully pinned, a boot against his back and his racing heartbeat prominant in the pressure from a steady, constant pull of his wing in a scavenger’s hand.
“What’s going on here?” Comes a familiar voice, and Grian feels like crying. If they leave him alive, at least Scar can get him back to Mumbo.
“Are you with this vulture,” one of them spits.
“I am, and I promised he’s very much learned his lesson—“
“He sliced my arm open,” they growl. And yeah, he did do that. The drip of blood fills him with a cruel pride that they’re going to need to go home after this and waste the day away.
“You deserved it,” he calls back, and is rewarded with a particularly painful tug on his wing.
“Fellas, I promise you that if you let him go, you’ll never see us ever again. Heck, we’ll even leave you little things for yourself to improve profits! How’s that for a deal?”
“How about instead we slice his throat?” And he knows it’s a bluff. Killing someone over a single piece of scrap is ludicrous, and these guys don’t seem insane enough to do it to a first-time offender. They’re farther than typical from their bubble, and while Grian’s had his own fair share of death threats they’ve only ever been serious in total nowhere. It’s got to be a bluff. It has to be.
He’s going to die if it’s not.
Grian looks up, eyes following metal legs to Scar’s face to find the other staring directly at him.
He doesn’t know what Scar sees in him, but he hears his fan kick on just beneath the noise of the wastes.
The android steps forward, steps closer. Grian can’t tell a single thing about what he’s thinking, but he knows his neck is starting to ache from the angle he’s keeping it at to keep Scar in view. Something about the quiet won’t let him look away. Scar rears back a fist.
And then he hears the crack of bone.
The weight falls off his back, his wing, and Grian is left staring into empty space as Scar takes measured steps behind him, and out of view.
The impacts behind him begins to sound wet, like the repeated thump of a hammer against drowned wood.
Grian has dabbled a bit, long before he met Mumbo, in engineering himself. It was more buildings than robots, trains instead of anything that breathes. But there’s one thing he still remembers, clear as day.
A robot may not injure a human being.
So what does that make the thing in front of him?
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There are many new friends on the archive, and many are young and have only known social media, which is why I wanted to say something!
Ao3 does not have an algorithm! It isn't a social media site, it's an archive.
Posting fics on Tumblr isn't the same as posting fics on Ao3
Ao3 is like a giant virtual bookshelf, and everyone is able to add their own stories to the bookshelf, all stored with different tags and different fandoms. Works are automatically sorted by newest to oldest, but filters, looking at bookmarks, and using the search function can change that.
Certain works are not pushed to the top like social media posts. More kudos and reads don't push a single work to more viewers by some algorithm. Unless otherwise filtered, works will be at the top of the page based on how recent it was posted.
Smaller fandoms get less views, less kudos, less bookmarks, and larger fandoms get more simply because of the number of people inside the fandom.
Ao3 is a giant virtual bookshelf- there is no algorithm, and there is no man behind the shelf pushing certain books forward.
Happy reading, and if you'd like to have more people notice a fic, why not share it with them! Send a dm to a fandom friend and it might turn into one of their favorite fics!
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anothersuperstition · 1 month
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will you welcome your extinction in the morning rays?
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months
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Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.
(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4 (soon))
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#lan wangji#Yungmeng Jiang training arc AU#I wanted to try out a different paneling style for this one - sorry I'm a day late! (there will still be a post tomorrow to keep on track)#The original 3 panel comic idea was fine but the point of this new schedule was to take time to push myself a bit more.#I was taking a look back through some comic artists I felt inspired by#and I really loved how Lynda Barry fills her gutters with patterns and doodles!#Obviously I'm not going as absolutely wild with it as she does but it was a great exercise!#I truly think the gutters are the most important and most overlooked part of any comic. There's lots going on in that space.#It's the same with timeskips. The implied movement between moments that we don't see changes depending on how wide that gap is#You're here for the funny tags so here's some that ties this time talk together:#I think LWJ was thinking about that second note from day 2 but it took him 7 days of hazing to commit it to paper.#I think he sends it a day later and immediately regrets it. Chasing down the messenger and everything.#You know if something actually happened to his brother he would never ever forgive himself for putting the bad vibes out there.#Third time skip was the hardest because there was so many possible flavours of jokes here. Day 8/9 was a personal favourite.#day 14 was also funny (week by week). I think the debate on 'how long does lwj take to catch feelings' is more or less:#'how long does it take for him to arrive at a particular stage of grief and yearning (and awareness of it all)#This is a symphony. There is an act by act structure. Every day he is fighting to keep his old sensibilities. He is losing so badly.#(I'll be returning to the main comic soon but there is more of this AU to come!)
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solcarow · 14 days
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Look Back by Tatsuki Fujimoto // Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint by Sing Shong
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apparently-artless · 2 months
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●◉✿ SOUSOU NO FRIEREN ❀ FRIEREN & HIMMEL ✿◉●
Anime: Sousou no Frieren Characters: Frieren & Himmel Song Lyrics: Outnumbered by Dermot Kennedy
↳ requested by Alice (@alice-chan-chan)
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jackdawsdrawings · 6 months
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Drawings for some of the songs in HNOC, will do the last 3 once i can figure out what I even want them to look like :D
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lady-arryn · 23 days
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THE WILDS + summer colors
(requested by @sunbelieving)
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rinisdrawing · 4 months
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cold days, warm moments ❄️☕️
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trashyshrew · 1 year
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big admirer of your work! you asked for drawing suggestions–would love to see your take on lawlight snuggled up together relaxing in bed or something! absolutely starved for soft content of these two
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mattodore · 4 months
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he's waiting on a call he's planning to send straight to voicemail
#sorry matthias </3 maybe he'll pick up the next time you try calling............ <- me when i lie#river dipping#ts4#ts4 edit#gifs#theodore doe#echthroi#hi friends and lovers hope everyone's doing well <3#i got my old laptop to work so i have a laptop again even if the battery on it is messed up#but still#i haven't been online much bc i've started getting dizzy from staring at computer/phone screens for too long#and in particular the act of scrolling either on mobile or desktop makes my head spin and my eyes hurt :/#but i powered through it yesterday so i could get in game with theo (and matthias) since i missed him really bad... oc plague be upon ye#i took... well. like five hundred screenshots and forty videos... i was in the soup. the mattodore soup. what can i say?#i don't like posting too much on here bc. i'm crazy (<- has avpd) so i probably won't post much from yesterday's fun here#but i'll post whatever i want on pillowfort <3 pic of jerma holding out his hand captioned let's take mattodore together#what else should i say before leaving... right my inbox... well i'll get to it eventually <- have been saying this since october sorry#but okay i've been staring at my screen too long so i need to go lay down for a bit#enjoy theo in motion!! if you’re a theo-head like myself#theodite à la jermamite? hm. its in the works. i’m workshopping.#mentioning jerma twice in these tags… busting a cyanide pill onto my tongue i’ve said too much#i have to go now mwah mwah mwah bye warmth and love to you mwah
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lameow-l · 4 months
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GAMING IS MY SON AND IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM IM GONNA KILL EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM AND THEN MYSELF!!
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LOOK AT HIM HES SO CUTE
i still have hope in getting the other boys too
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its ok they can be a band or smth.. at least then gaming wouldn’t have to be so disappointed in people not hiring him bc he’s just having fun with his boys…
#it took me soooo long to realize his name can also be 'gaming' and idk if i should be ashamed or proud lol#his hashtag is gonna get real funny real quick#is it actually an intentional business decision made by hyv#no way this was accidental#anyway im disappointed in his hair design but i stopped feeling much since all genshin charas always have the ugliest hairstyles#also him being another bennett just not as unlucky#he works so hard and still tries to achieve his artistic dream at the same time#but people just smile and ignore him…PAY THE DUDE!!!#ALSO ALSO.. chiaki 2.0 and they better add all other ryuseitai next#i just can get over how energetic and cool genshin concept designs are when the game keeps slapping us with a downgraded version every time#not to say current designs aren’t energetic or cool.. just not as much lol (still salty about red xiao and those flying nahidas)#now i know why they still not doing an art book yet.. they’re ashamed to admit of the amounts of good designs they never use#AND I LOVE GENSHIN DESIGNS honest (otherwise why would i keep doing fanart of this game and this game only for 3 years)#sorry i dont post all of them.... i have issues#but i cant help but feel robbed when i see these designs knowing what they could’ve been#and it’s in no way hyv’s fault *glance at leakers* and the new designs are getting crazier and cooler but#please for the love of god hyv stop with the mullets PLEASE!!!#gaming#ga-ming#gaming genshin#genshin impact
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katsigian · 3 months
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── ⁺⭒*˖₊☽ ⁺˖ ᴏᴄ ᴀꜱꜱᴏᴄɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ˖⁺ ☾₊˖*⭒⁺ ──
I was tagged to fill out some OC associations by @cetra thank you! ♡ this took me a while to get to, I apologize, but I had a lot of fun filling it out!
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─── ⁺ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟ: ꜱɴᴏᴡ ʟᴇᴏᴘᴀʀᴅꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴠɪᴘᴇʀꜱ. ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟꜱ ᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱɴᴇᴀᴋʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ. ꜱɴᴏᴡ ʟᴇᴏᴘᴀʀᴅ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴀʀꜱʜ ᴄʟɪᴍᴀᴛᴇꜱ, ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴛᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄʏ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴛᴀʟᴇɴᴛ ᴀᴛ ʜᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ.
─── ⁺ ᴄᴏʟᴏʀꜱ: ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ, ᴡᴀʀᴍ ɢᴏʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴡᴇᴅᴅɪɴɢ ʀɪɴɢ, ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛɪɴɢ ɢʀᴇᴇɴ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴘɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴘɪɴᴋ ᴏꜰ ɴᴇᴏɴ ꜱɪɢɴꜱ.
─── ⁺ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ: ᴠᴀʟᴇɴ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴀᴜɢᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ. ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍꜱ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʟᴏɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴꜱᴀɴᴇʟʏ ʜᴏᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴏʟɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ ʏᴇᴛ.
─── ⁺ ᴘʟᴀɴᴛꜱ: ꜱɴᴀᴋᴇ ᴘʟᴀɴᴛꜱ, ᴇᴠᴇʀɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴛʀᴇᴇꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʟʟᴇʙᴏʀᴇ ʙʟᴏꜱꜱᴏᴍꜱ.
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─── ⁺ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀꜱ: 8, 18, 98 (ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛʟʏ ʀᴜꜱꜱɪᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴇᴡ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ 8'ꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ʟᴜᴄᴋ).
─── ⁺ ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴇɴᴅᴇʀ ʙʏ ʟᴏʀᴅ ʜ��ʀᴏɴ, ʙᴇʟʟꜱ ɪɴ ꜱᴀɴᴛᴀ ꜰᴇ ʙʏ ʜᴀʟꜱᴇʏ, ᴜɴꜱᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ꜱʟɪᴘᴋɴᴏᴛ, ᴄʀᴀᴠɪɴɢ ʙʏ ʏᴍɪʀ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ʜᴏɴᴇʏ ʙʏ ᴛʜʀɪᴄᴇ, ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ + ꜱᴜɴʟɪɢʜᴛ + ɴꜰᴡᴍʙ ʙʏ ʜᴏᴢɪᴇʀ, ᴀqᴜᴀ ʀᴇɢɪᴀ ʙʏ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴛᴏᴋᴇɴ, ʜᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ʙʏ ʀɪᴀʏᴀ, ʙᴏɴᴇꜱ ʙʏ ᴅxʀᴋ, ɪᴍᴍᴀᴄᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ ᴠɪꜱxɢᴇ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʙʏ ᴋᴏʀᴅʜᴇʟʟ, ʙᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʙʏ ᴊᴀᴄᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀᴇᴛᴛ (ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ, ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ. ᴀɴ ᴇᴀꜱɪᴇʀ ᴏᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʟɪɴᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜɪꜱ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ).
─── ⁺ ꜱᴍᴇʟʟꜱ: ᴇᴠᴇʀɢʀᴇᴇɴ ᴘɪɴᴇ, ᴠᴀɴɪʟʟᴀ, ʟᴀᴠᴇɴᴅᴇʀ, ʟᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴠᴇᴛɪᴠᴇʀ, ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ, ᴍᴜꜱᴋ, ᴀᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴛᴏʙᴀᴄᴄᴏ, ᴄɪɢᴀʀᴇᴛᴛᴇ ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ, ɢᴜɴ ᴏɪʟ, ɢᴜɴᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ.
─── ⁺ ɢᴇᴍꜱᴛᴏɴᴇꜱ: ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ᴄɪᴛʀɪɴᴇ, ᴍᴏᴏɴꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɢᴀᴛᴇ. ᴄɪᴛʀɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴏɴꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ɪ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪʙᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ- ᴄɪᴛʀɪɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪꜱ ᴜꜱᴜᴀʟ ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ᴛᴏɴᴇ, ᴍᴏᴏɴꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱʜɪɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ - ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɢᴀᴛᴇ ɪꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ ꜱᴛᴏɴᴇꜱ. Qᴜᴀʀᴛᴢ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛ.
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─── ⁺ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʏ: ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜɴ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴘᴇᴇᴋꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏʀɪᴢᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋʏ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛʀᴇᴇᴛʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴀʀᴍ ᴏᴜᴛ.
─── ⁺ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ: ʟᴀᴛᴇ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ. ᴠᴀʟᴇɴ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜰᴇᴄᴛ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ. ʜᴇ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴀʟʟ ɪꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ.
─── ⁺ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ: ᴠᴀʟᴇɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ ᴄᴀʀʙ ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ᴅɪꜱʜᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜰᴀꜱᴛꜱ. ʟᴏᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀꜱᴛᴀ, ᴘʟᴇɴᴛʏ ᴏꜰ ᴇɢɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴄᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰʀᴇɴᴄʜ ᴛᴏᴀꜱᴛ. ʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏꜱ ᴀʟʟ ᴋɪɴᴅꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴀꜱɪᴀɴ ᴄᴜɪꜱɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ ᴘɪᴄᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʜᴇ ɢᴏᴇꜱ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴛ. ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏꜱ ɴᴏᴏᴅʟᴇ ʙᴏᴡʟꜱ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜰᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ, ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ɴᴏʀᴍᴀʟʟʏ ᴄᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ; ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜰᴀꜱᴛ ꜰᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴅɪɴɴᴇʀ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟʏ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ.
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─── ⁺ ᴅʀɪɴᴋꜱ: ᴇꜱᴘʀᴇꜱꜱᴏ ꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ, ʟᴀᴛᴛᴇꜱ, ɪᴄᴇᴅ ʟᴇᴍᴏɴᴀᴅᴇ, ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴇʀʙʏ ɢɪɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴠᴏᴅᴋᴀ. ᴀ ʜᴏᴍᴇᴍᴀᴅᴇ ɢɪɴɢᴇʀ-ʜᴏɴᴇʏ-ʟᴇᴍᴏɴ ᴛᴇᴀ ɪꜰ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ (ʀᴇᴀᴅ: ɪꜱ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴡᴇʟʟ).
─── ⁺ ᴇʟᴇᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ: ᴍᴏꜱᴛʟʏ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ. ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱᴀʟᴛʏ, ɢʀᴇᴇɴ-ɪꜱʜ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴜʀʙᴜʟᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀᴠᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱᴇᴀ. ᴄᴏʟᴅ, ʀᴇꜰʀᴇꜱʜɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ.
─── ⁺ ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʀᴏᴄᴋ ꜱᴀʟᴛ, ʀᴏꜱᴇᴍᴀʀʏ, ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ᴘᴇᴘᴘᴇʀ, ʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜɪʟɪ ꜰʟᴀᴋᴇꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀꜱɪʟ.
─── ⁺ ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴꜱ: ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ; ʜɪꜱ ᴏᴡɴ ꜰɪꜱᴛꜱ, ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀɴɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅɢᴜɴ. ᴠᴀʟᴇɴ ɪꜱ ᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɪꜱ ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀɴᴅ ᴀʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴀɢᴀɪɴꜱᴛ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ. ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴅᴀʏᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ, ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀɴɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴇꜱɪɢɴᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘɪᴇʀᴄɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪɴ ꜰɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴀʟꜱ. ʟᴀꜱᴛʟʏ, ʜɪꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅɢᴜɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴄᴜꜱᴛᴏᴍɪᴢᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍꜱᴇʟꜰ - ᴀ ᴠɪᴘᴇʀ ᴛʀ88 ʙʏ ᴀɴᴛɪɢᴏɴᴇ ɪɴᴅᴜꜱᴛʀɪᴇꜱ (ᴀɴ ᴀʀᴍꜱ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴʏ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅʙᴜɪʟᴅɪɴɢ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜɴ ɪꜱ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʟᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛᴛɪ ᴘɪᴛ ᴠɪᴘᴇʀ)
─── ⁺ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇꜱ: ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴍᴇ, ᴀ ᴘᴇɴᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ꜱᴜɪᴛᴇ, ᴄᴜʀʟᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ʜᴜꜱʙᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪɴᴅᴏᴡꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀᴇꜱʜ, ᴄᴏᴏʟ ᴀɪʀ. ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇʟʏ, ᴀ ꜱᴇᴇᴅʏ, ɢʀᴜɴɢʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ ʀɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡᴅꜱ' ᴄʜᴇᴇʀꜱ ɪɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴄʜᴇꜱᴛ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴅʀᴇɴᴄʜᴇᴅ ɪɴ ɴᴇᴏɴ. ᴀ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴏʟ, ʟᴀɪᴅ-ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ᴇᴄᴄᴇɴᴛʀɪᴄ ʙᴀʀ/ʀᴇꜱᴛᴀᴜʀᴀɴᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɴɪᴄᴇ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴢʏ ʙᴏᴏᴛʜꜱ.
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─── ⁺ ꜱᴋʏ: ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴꜱᴇᴛꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋʏ ɪꜱ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴀɴ ɪɴᴅɪɢᴏ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴘᴇᴀᴄʜʏ ᴏʀᴀɴɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴅᴏᴛᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅꜱ. ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇʟʏ, ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴋʏ ɪꜱ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʟʟ ꜱᴏʀᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ɢʀᴇʏ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴀɪɴᴛʟʏ ɢʀᴇᴇɴ-ɪꜱʜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʀᴏɪʟɪɴɢ ᴄʟᴏᴜᴅꜱ.
─── ⁺ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ: ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴀᴍᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴠᴇ ᴅʜᴅᴊꜱʜ 😅 ᴅᴀʀᴋ, ʀᴜᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴛʜᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴏʀᴍꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴀʀᴍ, ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ꜱᴜɴ.
─── ⁺ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ: ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪ'ᴅ ᴀꜱꜱᴏᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ 😅 likely something to do with water or the ocean or maybe darkness.
─── ⁺ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ: ᴄɪɴɴᴀᴍᴏɴ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ꜱᴏᴜʀ ɢᴜᴍᴍʏ ᴘᴇᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴀᴍᴇʟꜱ. ᴛʏᴘɪᴄᴀʟ ᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴀɴ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴘᴀʀᴛ. ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴇꜱꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜꜱɪɴɢ ʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴜᴄʜ. ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴜʟᴛᴇʀɪᴏʀ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢ.
─── ⁺ ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ: ᴠᴀʟᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏꜱ ꜱᴜʀꜰɪɴɢ/ꜱᴡɪᴍᴍɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀʙʏ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ, ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ/ꜱᴘᴀʀʀɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴍᴀʀᴛɪᴀʟ ᴀʀᴛꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪxɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ/ʀɪᴅɪɴɢ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴏᴛᴏʀᴄʏᴄʟᴇ. ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴘʟᴀɴᴛꜱ, ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜱʜᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪxɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ʜɪꜱ ꜰɪʀᴇᴀʀᴍꜱ.
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─── ⁺ ᴀʀᴛꜱᴛʏʟᴇ: ʙᴀʀᴏqᴜᴇ-ᴇʀᴀ ᴘᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴍʙʀᴀɴᴅᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀʀᴀᴠᴀɢɢɪᴏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟᴘʜᴏɴꜱᴇ ᴍᴜᴄʜᴀ ꜱᴛʏʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀʀᴛ ɴᴏᴜᴠᴇᴀᴜ. ᴠᴀʟᴇɴ ʜᴇᴀᴠɪʟʏ ꜱᴛᴜᴅɪᴇᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴀʀᴛɪꜱᴛꜱ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ɪɴ ʜɪɢʜ ꜱᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀᴅ ᴘʟᴀɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʀᴛ ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏʀ ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴛᴇᴄᴛᴜʀᴀʟ ᴅᴇꜱɪɢɴ.
─── ⁺ ꜰᴇᴀʀ: ᴅᴀʀᴋ, ᴍᴜʀᴋʏ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ. ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴏᴜɢʜ ᴏʀ ᴍᴀʀꜱʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ꜱᴛᴀɢɴᴀɴᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴠᴀʟᴇɴ'ꜱ ᴀɴxɪᴇᴛʏ ʀɪꜱᴇ.
─── ⁺ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪᴛᴇᴍ: ᴛᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ɢᴇᴀʀ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴀᴄ ᴠᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏʟꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ. ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴄʟᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴜꜱᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ᴍᴏꜱᴛʟʏ ɴᴇᴜᴛʀᴀʟ ᴄᴏʟᴏᴜʀꜱ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴀᴛᴄʜᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴄᴏᴍꜰʏ, ᴜᴛɪʟɪᴛᴀʀɪᴀɴ ʟᴇɪꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴡᴇᴀʀ. ʟᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴀɴᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜᴇᴇʀ ꜱʜɪʀᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀʟꜰ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ʙᴜᴛᴛᴏɴ ᴅᴏᴡɴꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ.
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─── ⁺ ᴍʏᴛʜᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ: ᴀ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ, ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴜʀꜱᴇ. ʜᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ᴀ ᴅᴀʏᴡᴀʟᴋᴇʀ, ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄᴀʟʟʏ.
─── ⁺ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴇᴍᴏᴊɪꜱ: 😏☀️🫦
─── ⁺ ᴄᴇʟᴇꜱᴛɪᴀʟ ʙᴏᴅʏ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʀɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴍɪɴɪ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʟʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ꜱᴀᴛᴜʀɴ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴ.
─── ⁺ ꜱᴛᴀʀ ꜱɪɢɴꜱ: ᴀʀɪᴇꜱ ꜱᴜɴ, ꜱᴄᴏʀᴘɪᴏ ᴍᴏᴏɴ, ꜱᴀɢɪᴛᴛᴀʀɪᴜꜱ ʀɪꜱɪɴɢ
Taglist ♡ if you'd like to be removed or added, just lmk! As always, there's no pressure to fill these out or share your results! Also, while Valen is cyberpunk based, you can do this for any OCs in any settings, if you'd like to ♡ @rindemption @noirapocalypto @westealtoys @quickhacked @cloudofbutterflies92 @opaleyedprince @mercymaker @yharnams @nightbloodbix @galvus @envergothash @skelior @peaches-n-screem @spicyraeman @feykiller @florbelles @aceghosts @nokstella @devilbrakers @aelyosos @dani-the-goblin @elvenbeard @dickytwister @kharonion @hibernationsuit @hiddenbeks @jerichoes @aggravateddurian @hummingbirdsage @cove-holdens @vanoefucks @seluned @onehornedbeast @molochka-koshka @carlosoliveiraa @baldurians @thefrostyshepard @balverine2077 @ratsstick @ancunine @ronqueesha @wormskul @vivanightcity @cyberholic77 @lilacmox @strafethesesinners @vincentmatthews @jaydenborn @sh00kspeared
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molinaskies · 1 month
Note
The thing that bugs me about the many conflicts of interest that happen between sonic and shadow is that no one in the fandom seems to consider that the fact sonic was wrong doesn't mean shadow was right
This is such a good point. Say it louder for the people in the back!
Sonic and Shadow fundamentally butt heads because of how they both view their responsibilities to protect the world.
The most pointed example of this for me is the inciting incident in Sonic Prime. I’ve already said a while back that I think Shadow is equally to blame for shattering the crystal because he was the one who prevented Sonic from doing what he had to do. I got some pushback saying that Sonic was the instigator of Shadow’s aggression, but I have a hard time believing that when Shadow literally greeted Sonic with a punch. Yes, Sonic still made a lot of mistakes that I acknowledged in my original post, but Shadow immediately set the tone for that encounter and it was NOT positive. My point in bringing this up again is to say that they both fucked up, but Shadow, the show itself, and much of the viewers blame exclusively Sonic because Shadow somehow stole the moral highground.
More nuanced, however, is the discussion around Sonic’s moral code as presented in the IDW comics (which are canon to the mainline series, btw, if anyone didn’t know. They are the same picture).
In issue 7, Sonic and Shadow argue over whether Eggman should live freely as Mr. Tinker. Shadow states that Eggman deserves to pay for all the pain he’s put Sonic through (among the other harm he’s caused). While Sonic agrees, he hinges on the fact that Eggman isn’t around anymore. Sonic doesn’t want to punish Mr. Tinker because he doesn’t want to be an arbiter of justice.
Yes, Sonic was “wrong,” but was Shadow really right in this case? Everyone in-universe gets upset with Sonic for not knowing something he reasonably had no way of knowing (literally who tf would have predicted Starline? lol) but what they’re really upset with is the fact that Sonic didn’t mitigate the risk.
I really feel like you can’t ascribe moral boundaries to these things. One isn’t good while the other is bad and vice versa. It’s all shades of gray.
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 months
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Fishing Interlude
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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elizaditton · 2 months
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Too Small To Be Afraid (Chapter 14)
Cover / Master Post / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter
- - - - - - - - - -
I stare at my deskmate's hand, dumbfounded. What is he expecting me to do, exactly?
"Well, come on!" Derrick says with a smile. "What are you waiting for?"
"Well, I, um..." I cock my head to the side, as if that would help me have a better understanding of the sight in front of me. "I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do."
"What do you mean?" My deskmate chuckles. "Haven't you ever walked onto someone's hand before?"
I slowly lift my head to peek up at my deskmate, and rub my arm as I shift my gaze back to the balcony floor. He really expects me to have done this?
Derrick frowns. "You haven't, have you?"
I shake my head. "No, I haven't. In fact... you're the only perthean who's ever held me before."
Derrick slowly retracts his hand from the balcony, his brows shifting upward. He blinks.
"What?" I ask.
"I... I don't know, it's just..." my deskmate says, looking down as he twiddles his thumbs. "I'm honored that you'd let me be the first perthean to hold you."
"It's not like I really had a choice, being forced to come to this school and all," I sigh. "You just happened to be the first that I couldn't avoid."
"You were forced to come to this school?" Derrick asks, his eyes widening.
"Yeah," I say with a shrug as Dad's lies about the move come to mind. "It's a long story."
"Well, whether you were forced to interact with me or not," Derrick says, tucking his arms by his sides and clenching his fists excitedly, "I'll do my best to live up to the honor of being the first perthean to hold you!"
I let out a nervous laugh. I didn't realize he'd be so excited to find this out.
"But anyway, once again returning to the matter at hand—my hand, that is," Derrick says.
My heart rate picks up again as Derrick moves his hand back towards the balcony. I don't stumble backwards this time, but I'm surprised that my insides are still churning at the sight of his nearing hand—especially since I was expecting it to approach.
The enormous leathery surface settles down before me, with each of its attached digits curling inward ever so slightly. I approach my deskmate's hand cautiously, as if it were a venus flytrap ready to snatch me up at a moment's notice.
"Now, you said you weren't sure what you were supposed to do?" Derrick asks.
I raise my foot and dangle it over my deskmate's hand, only to nearly lose my balance and stumble back onto the balcony. Do I really not know how to do this?
"I haven't the slightest clue. And besides, isn't this..." I sigh, biting down on my lip and rubbing the back of my neck. "You know, a little too casual?"
"Too casual?" Derrick blinks a few times and raises an eyebrow. "Kaylin, we are friends, right?"
"Of course!" I blurt out, quickly waving my hands. "I didn't mean to say we weren't! It's just that we've only used a formal form of handling etiquette up until this point, and... well..."
"Yes? What is it?"
"I... well... I don't really know how you expect me to get onto your hand. I guess that makes me pretty stupid, huh?" I say, hanging my head.
"You're not stupid. You just need a little guidance, that's all," Derrick says with a smile. "Now, there's something I want you to know. Because we're friends, I don't care how it is you manage to get onto my hand. You can run, crawl, jump, or fall into my hand and I wouldn't mind it in the slightest."
I look up at my deskmate, astounded. I thought any perthean would be particular about how a human gets onto their hand. He really doesn't care how I approach this?
"Generally speaking, though," Derrick says, "when a perthean offers you their hand this way, you're expected to respond like this."
Derrick lifts his other hand and moves it towards me, causing my muscles to immediately tense up. What's he doing now?! Is he going to grab me?!
I quickly back away from his hands until I'm flat against the wall. My heart, beating faster and faster, sinks deep in my chest. As my knees buckle beneath me, I find myself slumping against the wall, it being the only thing left holding me up. Derrick's eyes widen, and he immediately retracts both of his hands.
"Hey," he whispers. "Kaylin, are you—"
I slide down the wall until I'm sitting on the balcony floor. I hide my head behind my knees and wrap my arms around my legs. I shut my eyes tightly as they begin to tingle and glaze over, but hot tears manage to leak from them anyway.
"I can't do this, Derrick!" I sniffle. "I can't keep myself from fearing for my life whenever you reach for me! All I think about is...! Is...!"
With my head buried into my knees, my vision is completely black. My mind's eye, however, is painting pictures of the man from my nightmares. A tall, slim figure with a bit of a tan. Slightly muscular. Clean shaven with a small scar on his left cheek. He has dark brown hair and narrowed brown eyes. He wears a white t-shirt with a few dirt stains, and wrapping around his dark blue jeans at the hips is a black belt with a silver chain. Beneath him is a pair of dirty, beaten up white sneakers.
He seemed so unassuming when I first peered at him from the corner of that alleyway. I was so naive! I had no idea what he—no, what pertheans were capable of until—
"Kaylin," Derrick whispers. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you. I know you're not ready to tell me what started your fear, and I want you to know that's okay with me."
I sniffle again, and with shaking hands, I wipe the tears from my eyes before reluctantly looking up at my deskmate. His blue eyes are soft with compassion, and his brows are upturned in sympathy.
"Since you were forced to come to this school, you didn't get to choose whether or not you wanted to trust me. So now, I want to ask you..." his voice trails off, and he shifts his gaze to the ground. He takes a deep breath in and out before looking back at me. "Will you make the choice now?"
My lip trembles as I sit up in my spot against the wall. "Make... the choice?" I manage, my voice cracking.
Derrick keeps his eyes fixated on me and slowly lifts his left hand towards me. His index finger is bent to the side, as if to initiate balcony etiquette. His hand passes the balcony railing, but doesn't come any closer to me. I stare at it, confused. What's he getting at?
"Kaylin, will you make the choice to trust me?"
My heart rocks against my chest and my legs begin to go numb. "How can I do that when I'm filled with so much fear?" I ask.
"Trust is an action. It's not something you feel, but rather something you choose to do in spite of your feelings." Derrick smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. "Will you trust me?"
I blink, slowly rising to my feet with trembling legs. The breeze picks up, blowing through my hair and giving me goose bumps from the chill. I hug myself tightly, partly because of the cold and partly because of the burning anxiety deep in my core. My pulse quickens, warning me to stay away from this perthean lest I get hurt—yet I find myself, for whatever reason, approaching the hand in front of me.
Derrick remains silent. I look back up at him, his smile still stretched from ear to ear. All at once, his eyes narrow, turning brown, and a scar appears over his left cheek. I slam my eyes shut, quickly sucking in a breath and blowing it out, before opening one eye to peek up at my deskmate. His blue eyes have returned to normal, and there's no scar on his cheek. I look back at his hand, cautiously tiptoeing towards it as my insides convulse and the world around me begins to spin.
Once I'm close enough, I reach a hand out towards my deskmate's index finger, only to pull it back towards myself out of uncertainty. Can I really do this? Can I really trust a perthean?
I place one hand on my deskmate's finger, and then another. I stand in place, breathless and at a loss for words. It takes all the strength I have left to look Derrick in the eyes.
"I will," I manage to say at last.
My deskmate sighs joyfully, and his eyes soften as if smiling themselves.
"Okay," he whispers.
Seeing the glee on Derrick's face gives me the courage to smile back at him. Now that I've made the choice to trust him, I can't help but wonder what comes next.
"Do you want to try walking onto my hand again?" he asks.
I recall the moment Derrick's hand approached me without warning, shivers running down my spine.
"Don't worry," he says. "I'll alert you before I reach for you from now on."
I nod, and Derrick lays his hand down palm side up on the balcony. I bite the inside of my cheek as my legs squirm beneath me, begging me to run away. I made the choice to trust Derrick, I'm not running away!
"Now, I was going to show you how humans are generally expected to react in response to an open palm. May I see your hand?" Derrick asks.
My heart skips a beat. What does he want my hand for? Still shaking where I stand, I gulp, and reluctantly offer up my right hand. I become lightheaded when Derrick takes my hand in between his fingertips. Closing my eyes, I attempt to steady my breathing. I've made my decision. I'm going to trust my deskmate.
Derrick leads me toward his open palm with a gentle tug, and places my hand on his thumb.
"There," he says, letting go of me. "Use my thumb as a support to get onto my hand."
My eyes widen as I gaze at the intricacies of his thumbprint—each curve and crevice forming a uniquely detailed pattern. I spread out my fingers. My hand doesn't even cover a fraction of the print, it's so... little. I stand there in awe, completely mesmerized by the sight in front of me as my cheeks become warmer and warmer.
"Is something wrong?" Derrick asks.
"N-no! Nothing's wrong!" I sputter, embarrassed that I'd been staring at my deskmate's thumbprint for so long.
I press down on Derrick's thumb with nearly all of my strength. It doesn't move an inch. I look toward the palm of his hand, and, using his thumb for support, I manage to lift one leg and plant it on the fleshy surface in front of me. I push off from Derrick's thumb and leap forward into his hand, only to trip on the squishy surface beneath my feet and fall flat on my face!
Derrick gasps. "Are you okay?"
I push against the skin beneath me and manage to get up onto my knees. I nod, my face completely red.
"We'll work on this," my deskmate says, lifting his hand from the balcony and closer to his chest.
"So, um..." I start, my gaze fixed on the palm I'm in. I'm interrupted, however, by a large finger lifting my head until my eyes meet Derrick's.
"Lesson two," Derrick says, "you should always try to look a perthean in the eyes when you speak to them. This makes it easier for us to hear you and perceive your emotions."
"O-oh, okay," I murmur, shivering.
Derrick smiles. "Now, what were you going to say?"
"Oh, I was just about to ask what happens now."
Derrick gazes off into the distance, his brows furrowed in thought. Did he not think he'd get this far?
"I was thinking we could just sit and talk for a while," he says, looking back at me.
"Talk?" I ask. "About what?"
"Anything," Derrick says, moving beside the balcony.
I sway from side to side in my deskmate's hand as he walks. I've gotten more accustomed to this with each passing school day, so I don't have to steady myself as much anymore. But when Derrick lowers himself to sit on the ground, I let out a yelp as the quick motion catches me completely off guard! My insides flip upside down, and I try my hardest to keep from losing my lunch.
"Sorry! Was that too quick?" Derrick asks.
"A little," I squeak, wondering what I've really gotten myself into by agreeing to meet back here with this guy.
"Sorry. I'll try to be more gentle," he says. "So... what do you want to talk about?"
"You're the one who wanted to meet back here in the first place. Shouldn't you be coming up with the ideas?" I ask.
I pick at my nails, keeping my gaze away from Derrick's. Once again, a large finger lifts my head until my eyes are locked with my deskmate's. I can't help but shudder as we glance at each other. Will I ever get used to the weight of his stare?
Derrick smiles reassuringly. "Alright," he says. "Let's talk about you."
My heart skips a beat as blood rushes to my cheeks. "What?! Why me?!" I ask.
"Hey, you said I should be the one coming up with the ideas!" Derrick laughs. "And besides... ever since we became deskmates, I've been curious to learn more about you."
I cross my arms and hang my head low to hide that I'm now blushing even harder. I've always hated talking about myself, it's so embarrassing! I'm not even that interesting!
"Come on," Derrick says, lifting me up to be eye level with him. "Can't you at least tell me a little bit about yourself?"
"I-I—" I stutter, trying to come up with any way to get myself out of this, only to sigh in defeat. "Okay."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Once Derrick and I got to talking, the time flew by. I told him a bit about the move, and he was surprised to hear that Dad and I traveled nearly 900 roams from Maedri to Chancelor. That's about 15,000 miles, which would feel like around 18,000 roams for a perthean. He asked why we would move that far, and I filled him in on how Dad really wanted me to go to his old high school. Thinking through it all again, it really doesn't make much sense. But, then again, neither does my dad.
Derrick told me a little bit about himself, too. He told me he lives with both of his parents, and that he has an identical twin brother who is away for university on Erimathea. I asked why they weren't in the same stage for school if they were the same age, and he mentioned something about his brother being able to graduate early. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with the topic, though, so I didn't push it much.
Before we knew it, we'd been talking behind the school for well over an hour. The funny thing is, the longer I spent in Derrick's hands, the easier it became to talk to him. I found myself trembling less and less over time, and I was able to maintain eye contact for most of our conversation.
"With exposure and with time," I recall Dad saying, "things can get better."
I shake the memory away. Sure, this meet up with Derrick is helping, but it wasn't Dad's idea!
"Uh-oh," Derrick says, glancing at his phone. "It's nearly 5 o'clock."
I let out a gasp as my eyes widen with realization. Dad's going to be expecting me home any minute now! I don't want him wondering where I've been! How in the world would I explain Derrick trying to help me with my fear? I can already see the smile on Dad's face. I can already hear him telling me how he knew sending me to this school would be a good decision. I can't just let him win, can I?
"Do you have somewhere to be?" Derrick asks.
"I... well," I stammer, not sure how to explain my situation. "My dad's going to be expecting me any minute now, and it usually takes me over an hour to walk home from here!"
"Really? Do you live far from here?"
"I think it's a bit far from here," I say, trying to mentally calculate the distance based on how long my walk home usually is. "I live at the human apartment building on Seren Avenue."
Derrick blinks. "Are you serious?"
"W-what?" I ask, a shudder running down my spine.
"That's right around the corner from here! That's not far at all," Derrick chuckles.
"Well, for you it might not be, but—!"
"I know, I know," Derrick says. "It's twenty times the distance for you."
I rub my arm. "I just don't know how I'm going to explain this to my dad," I mutter. "If he finds out we met up because of my fear, or that we hung out at all... I feel like he's going to hold that over my head."
My deskmate hums, leaning back against the wall. "I might have an idea," he says with a smile, lifting me to his eyes.
"Y-you do?" I stutter, still not used to when he holds me close to his face like this.
"Are you ready for your next assignment?" he asks.
"That depends," I say, scooting back a little in his palm. "what is it?"
"Will you let me walk you home?" He asks. "In favor of taking another step towards overcoming your fear?"
"I-I don't know..."
"Come on! What do you have to lose?"
I look into my deskmate's round blue eyes. I can't tell if he's encouraging me or pleading with me at this point, but does my answer even matter? He already knows where I live, so he can take me home whether I want him to or not. I guess it's good that he's asking, but... is this really a good idea? What will people think of a boy walking a girl home? What if the perthean lobby receptionist at the apartment sees us and tries to strike up another conversation? What if she tells Dad a perthean boy walked his daughter home? What will Dad think of Derrick walking me home? Ugh, he'd probably be ecstatic to see me getting along with my deskmate...
I take a deep breath and let it out. "Okay," I say. What could really go wrong?
"Alright!" Derrick says cheerfully, leaning forward to stand up.
"P-please be careful!" I plead in fear of being knocked about.
"I will," he says, being surprisingly gentle as he rises to his feet. "Now, Seren... Seren... that would be this way."
I sway around in my deskmate's hand with each step he takes. I keep my head down to prevent myself from getting nauseous, but I can tell when Derrick rounds a few corners and ends up on the sidewalk beyond the school grounds.
"We're almost there," he says.
"What? We just left!"
"It's that white building, right? About three blocks down?" Derrick asks, pointing to a small building far off in the distance.
I remember seeing pictures of the outside of the apartment online, and I guess it sort of looks like the building my deskmate is pointing to, but I can't really tell from this distance.
"Even if that's the right place, it's still going to take you at least a half hour to get there from here," I assert.
"Watch me," Derrick says.
"You're not going to try running it, are you?!" I exclaim, a sudden panic taking over.
"What? No, of course not! I'm going to take it nice and steady. Just don't be surprised when we get there in about..." my deskmate says, squinting at the white building in the distance. "Five minutes."
"Ha! Right!" I roll my eyes at his ridiculous estimate. There's no way what would take me an hour and a half is going to take him any less than thirty minutes.
As Derrick begins to walk again, I peek up from his hand every once in a while to see how far we are from our destination. To my surprise, we're approaching it much faster than I first anticipated.
I keep to myself for the most part, until something strange lands in Derrick's palm. I blink a few times, uncertain of what it is I'm seeing. It's long, a bit rounded, and a lovely shade of light pink. I reach out and poke it first, to make sure it's not some kind of bug. When it doesn't fly away, I lean over and take it in my hands. It's soft to the touch, though a bit wrinkly. It almost feels like some kind of plant.
"Hey," I say, my focus shifting back to my deskmate. "Do you know what this is?"
Derrick stops for a moment and looks down at the pink object in my hands. He tilts his head to the side, inquisitively.
"I think it's a petal," he says.
"A petal? From what?" I ask, excitedly scanning the ground beneath me for any flowers. To my disappointment, I don't see any.
"From that tree," my deskmate answers, pointing above and behind me to a massive heap of pink blossoms swinging in the wind, connected together by dark, twisting branches to a thick trunk.
My eyes immediately widen when it comes into view. The big blossoms float about in the sky high above us, and little petals rain down all around like snowflakes. This is a sight I've only ever dreamt about or seen in movies before. I never thought I'd get to see something like this for myself! The sky lights in Maedri's undercity always depicted cherry blossoms around spring every year, and I thought that was a sight to behold! But now I'm seeing the real thing? Am I really awake right now?
As Derrick begins to walk again, I try peeking around him to continue looking at the tree. Given his size, however, this proves fruitless. I slump in his palm, saddened that I only got a few moments with such a beautiful part of nature.
Derrick stops again, looking down at my slouching figure. He backs up a bit, and, reaching up to the tree, tears off a tiny section of a branch covered in flowers. He examines it between his fingertips for a moment, and then hands it to me.
My cheeks redden, and I can't help but let a smile creep across my face. Although I quiver at the sight of Derrick's nearing hand, I take the branch.
"For me?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"Mhm," Derrick hums. "A souvenir."
My breathing picks up speed with my heart rate. "Th-thanks," I manage.
Now I really can't let Dad find out about all this. What would he think of a boy giving me flowers?! I'd throw them right out if not for how mesmerized I still am by the sight of that tree.
After a few more moments of walking, Derrick stops again.
"The Apartments at Seren," he says.
I look up from the flowers in my lap. "No way!" I exclaim, dumbfounded.
"Well," Derrick says, pointing, "that's what it says on the sign."
Sure enough, the sign reads the name of my apartment building. Derrick reaches for the door to enter the perthean lobby.
"Wait!" I shout, only to bite my lip at the realization that I was a little too loud. "Um... is it okay if you just drop me off outside? There's an undercity entrance on the side of the building."
"Wouldn't it be faster to just drop you off inside?" Derrick asks.
"Well, it's just that... my dad likes to talk to the receptionist in there, and I don't know how he'd react if he saw a guy walking me home. And giving me flowers."
"Oh! Don't worry, I understand," he says. "I'll just set you down right here, then."
Derrick gently lowers himself to the ground, and places the hand I'm in down on the sidewalk. I rise from my place in his palm, wobbling a little at first as I struggle to stand. Bookbag and blossoms secured, I carefully inch toward the edge of my deskmate's hand, one step at a time, and then leap off onto the sidewalk.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Derrick asks.
"On Firsday," I say.
"Oh, right," he says. "I'll see you on Firsday."
"Alright. Bye!" I say, sheepishly waving as I make my way toward the undercity entrance on the side of the apartment building.
As I'm walking, I have a sudden realization— I completely forgot to thank Derrick! I turn around, only to see him walking away from the apartment building.
"Hey!" I yell, but Derrick doesn't seem to hear me.
I huff. I don't want to seem rude! I run after Derrick, as fast as I can, until I'm right beside him on the ground.
"Hey! Derrick! Wait!" I shout, hoping he'll hear me.
"Huh?" Derrick looks down.
The glass that veiled my fear for only a moment shatters as I stand face to face with a tall, tall perthean. From the ground. My eyes widen. My insides contort into a knot, and the world begins to spin around me. My heart slams against my ribcage and my legs tremble beneath me, again begging me to run away. Just what do I think I'm doing?
"Kaylin? Is everything okay?" Derrick asks.
"I-I— I w... I wanted..." I stutter and stutter, fumbling over every word as I rack my brain for whatever it was I wanted to say.
Derrick must realize I'm struggling, so he kneels down closer to the ground. "Yes?" He asks.
"I-I... I wanted t-to... I wanted to thank you!" I say, crossing my arm over my chest and leaning forward. "For helping me, and walking me home."
"Oh!" Derrick smiles. "Don't mention it."
"O-okay! S-see you on Firsday," I stammer, all at once giving in to my quaking legs' pleas and running as fast as I can away from Derrick and toward the undercity entrance without looking back.
This fear just isn't going to quit, is it?
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