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yandere-sins · 10 months

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I feel like omegaverse has some untapped yandere potential. Of course there’s alpha and omega but I had this idea of like an omega going yandere for a beta, like it’s literally never going to be but by god they’re gonna do whatever it takes

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

Uff! It's such a dreadful madness. I can't describe it otherwise.

An omega that knows you are their one true love, their one and only, the soulmate that every omega craves on a deeper level than just what their brain or body needs. But, oh, the misery when they go to your appointment with you to find out you're not the alpha they will need to survive their urges (as they have naturally assumed) but a mere beta they can have as a friend for a while at best. Once they are bound to an alpha, there will be very little time to invest in you, and that's something the omega has to prevent at all costs.

See, normally, an alpha would take care of their omega. Would feed them, clothe them, house them. Make sure they are always satisfied and well-satiated. But if the yan wants to keep you, specifically, they'll have to step up to the position of caretaker. Society doesn't want their precious omegas to go unmated, and if they learn of the predicament of your role, they'll undoubtedly keep you away from your omega. It scares the yan into sleepless nights and even panic attacks, making them fearful and desperate because they cannot survive without you. You yan might be bound to a knot but die of a broken heart either way. They can't even imagine forgetting you and leaving you behind to be with any other disgusting, ruthless, leering alpha. They want you. Only you.

You, you, you.

So they do what they must. Suppressants here, hiding their scent there. They learn to avoid the questions and hide from potential mates until they reach their goal—money. Lots of it. Whether through legal means or much more nefarious ways, they'll save up so much that they can spend the rest of their life comfortably with you, somewhere hidden and secluded, just you two. The world always needs more videos of needy, begging omegas, and it's a small price to pay when it means they can create the life of their dreams. You don't even realize the reason behind the omega's sudden lack of time. That's how well they are hiding their identity on the internet as they become famous for your sake.

It's not a surprise that after your diagnosis, after learning your purpose in society, you slowly start to make amends with it. While your yandere is so obsessed with creating a life for you two, you just try to move on from how you envisioned your life to go. Because you know you two can't be together. And your previously best friend is never around to support you at this challenging time, so you start to find other people who care about you.

The heartbreak for the poor omega seeing their beloved beta living your life apart from them is immeasurable. Infuriating. Maddening. Here they were trying so hard to do this for you, and you just replace and discard them? Unacceptable. Totally unacceptable!

But their plan is already underway. They already have more money than they know what to do with, even after buying a mansion for you two somewhere far away from the hustle and bustle of this annoying society you two live in. Once you're there, no one will hear you scream. And your omega knows you won't deny them when they ask you to go on vacation with them "for old time's sake". Why would you? You love them, they know it. Even if you hesitate, you are so easily persuadable when they plead a little, just like all those followers they have accumulated over the past few months that fall for every crocodile tear and every sway of the omega's hips. But while many may adore the yandere, they only have eyes for you—and now you're walking into their carefully laid out trap.

Because as soon as they lock the door behind them, there's no way out for you. You may not like your new living arrangement initially, but the yan has already severed all your ties to the world outside of this sacred haven they created. Everything is gone—your job, your friends, your family. No one will come looking for you. Everyone believes you left of your own free will with the person you have loved since childhood.

You may be confused, crying, and refusing the omega's touches. Begging them to let you go and even lash out, but they'll endure it, whether it's your tears staining the designer carpet or your palm print on their skin. You'll surely come to your senses and realize the amazing effort the yan put into this. But even after days, you're still rattling on doors, trying to jump out of locked windows, and at that point, it's not like the yan is too innocent to drug your food and chain you in their basement love nest. Nothing will get in between you and them—not even you. This change may be hard, but they had to sacrifice a lot for you, too. It's only fair if you have to do the same for this perfect life. And if you're not willing to give them the love they want, they have viewers waiting upstairs in their new and approved 'office' to release some steam with and clear their head before they do something that will upset both of you. Viewers who can't wait for the special 'surprise' the yan has promised many weeks ago.

Because everyone knows that the omega's heat will come, even with the suppressant. They will need their release when the medicine doesn't work anymore. And why would they need to keep taking it when they are secure and in the company of their one true love? They don't need an alpha to do it. They have you. What more could they want?

You'll have no moment of peace from them once their heat starts, cameras set up, and chains secure you into their nest. There are toys for all the needs they could possibly have that you can't fulfill as a mere beta. And when they inject you with so many pheromones that your body can barely handle the rut they will force you into despite being the wrong person for it, you'll almost be like the alpha they need, desperately humping and grinding on your omega like a bitch in heat. Wild and only held back by the chains, but still their adorable, beautiful darling beta, even when you two make a mess out of the nest and yourselves.

All on camera, of course.

The omega doesn't even care when they scream your name, revealing your identities to the world. No one will ever come for you two while the tips and memberships just come flowing in naturally, demanding more. And the yan gladly obliges. There is no greater happiness than finally having you right how they want and need you.

It's happiness shared amongst everyone.

Everyone except you.

#omegaverse #yandere omegaverse #yandere!omegaverse #yandere talk #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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luvlyemmaa · 9 months

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Cicatrize

-`♡´- To find healing by the process of forming scars

Summary:(Y/n) is going through a difficult time in her life.She had intended to simply vanish and die, but it appears that someone had persuaded her otherwise.

"𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗦𝗡'𝗧 𝗠𝗬 𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗗!!"

"𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗠𝗬 𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗗 𝗘𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥! 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗪𝗛𝗢 𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗 𝗠𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗖𝗘𝗜𝗩𝗘! 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗟𝗬, 𝗦𝗛𝗘 𝗜𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬!!"

"𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗔 𝗪𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗘! 𝗜'𝗠 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗕𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗕𝗟𝗘 𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗜 𝗛𝗔𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗬 𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗕𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬!!"

Screaming and glass breaking noises could be heard downstairs. Your parents were arguing once more, but you are used to it by now. Both of them seem to argue endlessly on a daily basis, but you wouldn't care either way.

Everything was going smoothly for you ever since you were a baby, just like in those old fairy tales about princesses that your parents used to tell you every night before bed. Up to the time you turn 4, everything is upside down. Your mother discovered that your father had a second family with a different woman, and your father discovered his mother having an extramarital affair. Since then, whether it was day or night, they would constantly argue. Whether it was your mother or your father, they both started throwing things around the home and eventually left.The following morning, the first thing you would notice when you went downstairs was that there were numerous shattered items all over the place. You would then always tidy up and discard some items in the trash.The space, which was previously alive with laughing, is now absolutely silent.

Your POV:

As you sit on your bed, slightly leaning against the wall, you retrieved your headphones. In order to block out their voices, you attached your phone to your headphones and turned up your music level. As you bury your face in your knees, you raise your knees to your chest.

𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥...

𝘚𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥...

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘐 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴...

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳...

You noticed your lips twitching and tears slowly pouring from your eyes and down to your cheeks. As you sobbed gently, your face was still buried between your knees. You've been crying so much that you're shaking. Once you had stopped crying, you lay down on your bed and let your head rest on the pillow while still wearing your headphones and listening to music on your phone. You closed your eyes as you dozed off after too much crying until you fell into a peaceful slumber.

The Next Day:

Your face was lifeless and expressionless, and you were resting on the rail. From below, a recognisable voice caused you to momentarily look down. Your heart ached because your closest friends—who you used to hang out with all the time—seem to have found 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 to 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 you.

They were pleasantly conversing as they walked towards the cafeteria, which made you think about a time when you used to be in 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹'𝘀 place. Every time there is a group project, everyone works together to complete it, and everyone walks and sits together. That was a lovely recollection that you now remember in fragments, but it was once a good flashback.

When you're alone in the school hallway, you move away from them to avoid bumping into them. You don't mind the absolute silence because this is what you want, thus it doesn't matter. You sit down on the floor next to a vending machine, embracing your legs as you raise your knees to your chest since you're exhausted from the prolonged walking. As your eyes grew drab, you knelt down and thought intently. A cold metal object touched your cheek as you were contemplating it, sending a small jolt through you.

"Hey! What do you think you're—?" You paused mid-sentence and stared at them with wide eyes.

"𝘈𝘲𝘶𝘢...?"

Your classmate Hoshino Aqua has been missing for a few days now due to his hectic schedule, but it appears that he has returned to class at this time.

"Why are you here when it is lunch time? Don't you want to eat with your friends?"

He handed you a canned drink that he had purchased while staring down at you and asking. You took it and said a little "thank you." As you took a sip, you opened the beverage can.

He leaned against the wall next to your seated figure and muttered in a monotone, "Well, you haven't answered my question," taking a sip of his canned beverage.

You put down your drink and cast a quick peek his way. You fidget with your canned beverage while gazing down and displaying a distressed expression.

"Don't feel like doing it". Aqua peered at you for a time before turning his attention to something else. You mumble as you do so, but he could see the pain in your eyes.

He started to walk away, causing you to start staring at his back, and then he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you by the shoulder.

He motioned his head and said, "Let's go," inviting you to follow him. You gave him a perplexed glance before getting to your feet and swiftly following him.

Asking "Where are we going?" You questioned him while glancing up at him; his response, "Somewhere," caused you to wrinkle your brows in frustration. You just followed him, and as you puffed in annoyance, he couldn't help but chuckle as a small smile appeared on his face.

The cafeteria appears to have less students than earlier as he brought you inside. You confusedly arched an eyebrow as you regarded him standing in front of the counter and mumble, "Cafeteria...?" Then you settle into the closest chair, gazing down at your feet as you wait for him. When you unexpectedly received a strawberry sando while gazing down, you looked up to see Aqua had just finished buying.

"W-what?" You stutter and stare up at him bewildered. He took your hand and placed the strawberry sando in it while sighing. The strawberry sando that was in your hand was softly pushed towards you as he remarked, "Take it, skipping meals isn't good you know."

"H-huh!? B-but you pay for it with your own money, right? Hold on, I'll pay you back". A hand abruptly stopped you as you were about to reach for your wallet.

"You don't have to,(Y/n)". He remarked as he carefully pulled his palm away from yours, "It's not a big thing" . You gave him a sparky look as your cheeks began to flush as you turned to face him. He continued as he walked away, "Well there's still 12 minutes before the break ended, why don't you eat while we're on our way to class," and you briefly gazed at his back before a small smile appeared on your face.

As you both went side by side, talking to him and grinning, you swiftly catch up to him after standing up.Although he replies to you with the same expression of stoicism, he was secretly feeling relieved that he had managed to get you back to being your usual upbeat self.

#oshi no ko #aquamarine hoshino #aqua hoshino #aquamarine x reader #aqua x reader #oshi no ko x reader

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karniss-bg3 · 7 months

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The cult of the absolute doesn't strike me as necessarily caring about the quality of life of its followers given they can just-- brain wash them into thinking it's the best. What kind of living situation do you think Kar'niss was put into? After all-- they made an ogre stay in the same rooms as other races.

Without a doubt, the Absolute are dogshit at cultist accommodations. If they had a Yelp page it'd be one stars down the line. Although I hear the continental breakfasts have their perks; If you don't mind tadpoles in your oatmeal, that is.

When it comes to our dear baby boy I fear he may have it the worst out of anyone, or the best depending on how you look at it. I don't believe he lives at the tower full time. Driders are bloodthirsty and are required to consume blood at least every four days, otherwise their bodies begin to break down and they can die. Unless Ketheric Thorm had a steady system to meet these dietary needs it would require Kar'niss to go out on the hunt for meals. And if there is one thing driders are biologically wired to do, it's hunt...and often.

I believe Kar'niss spends most of his time at the camp where you first encounter him.

This area is large enough to handle his size and secluded enough to where he's rarely bothered. Stationed so close to the mountain pass it also affords him the jump on any foolish enough to enter the Shadowlands. If you enter through the doorway at the back you also find a lot of evidence that this could be his primary feeding nest.

Bloody drag marks, bodies in trees and rock faces and skeletal remains piling up in the cavern below, it's the perfect spot for a hungry drider to enjoy his meal in peace. He likely drags his victims to the tree, drinks them dry and discards the remains for scavengers or fiends to clean up.

I also believe this is the real reason he was given the moon lantern. Not because the Absolute actually favored him, but because out of anyone he would be required to venture into the Shadowlands most often. This elected him as the impromptu guide for any True Souls that wandered to Moonrise.

As for where he sleeps, I doubt he does much if at all. Drow only require four hours of rest with their trance ability, and Kar'niss is still labeled as a drow in his profile. Rest wouldn't come easy to him with so many voices bombarding his mind, vying for attention. So when he's not being tasked by the Absolute to act as a guide or some other side venture, he's either hunting or looming at the top of Moonrise tower to be closer to "Majesty". I have an idea as to how Kar'niss became so thoroughly mind fucked by them, but that's for another post.

If he does stay at the tower primarily it would be just as lonely as the pseudo campsite. Kar'niss is the Ned Flanders of the Absolute (with more murder), and everyone else is Reverend Lovejoy. Sure, they believe and follow faithfully, but Kar'niss is a bit too extra even for them. His constant ramblings, his fanatic devotion and how temperamental he can be make him an unpopular option to hang around. He's likely dismissed or outright ignored. In fact now that I think about it, I don't think a single NPC addresses him by name. The guard at Moonrise calls him 'drider' and that's it. Perhaps Minthara does but I can't recall to save my life. Sad.

Overall I think regardless of where he chooses to hang his web, it's a very isolated existence. The Absolute don't care about him, non-cultists don't care about him, and he has an invisible timer ticking down toward his expiration date. The poor creature is simply too brainwashed and broken to know it.

Thanks for the ask!

#baldur's gate 3 #kar'niss #drider #bg3 #karniss #baldurs gate 3 #drow #lore #moonrise towers #answered #Well I've gone and fucked myself #I can't get Kar'niss saying “Hi diddly-o Adventureenos!” out of my head now #goddamnit #Okily dokily!

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2xplusungood · 7 months

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Ulysses is an absolutely underrated character and I will die on this hill

First off, I absolutely love the way that the game slowly drip feeds you information about him. Your first hint something happened BEFORE Benny shooting you in the head is Jonathan Nash telling you the original courier saw your name on the delivery and backed out which not only implies they knew something was going on with the platinum chip but also has something against you. Then in Dead Money, you get a few more hints from Christine and then more in Old World Blues and the game has set up as a sort of mirror of you.

You walk the lonesome road, slowly prodding him for information and finding discarded journal entries that reveal his trauma at the hands of the Legion. You, for once, get to SEE the horrible impact the Legion has, completely eradicating tribal culture to form a "Pax Romana." He was completely uprooted from his home and his tribe, The Twisted Hairs, are gone.

Working as a Frumentari, he began work with The White Legs, teaching them how to use weapondry and tactics. They began to revere him so much that they began wearing their hair in dreads like him. This disgusted him, the dreads had very profound cultural meaning to The Twisted Hairs, the knots telling a story and now here was another tribe appropriating its look without knowing its significance, a hollow disrespectful imitation.

Disillusioned with the Legion, he began to walk, eventually finding Hopetown. A settlement free of both NCR and Legion, a completely new community free from the corruption of the old world. It wasn't long until the BEAR AND THE BULL found it however, and they began to both move in. This culminated with the NCR sending a courier to deliver a strange device bearing similar to the markings found in Hopeville, resulting in the detonation of the underground warheads destroying hopeville and creating the divide.

The most common complaint I hear about him is "why is he mad at me for delivering a package?" but take a moment to really think about your role in the game. The choices you make have consequences, for better or for worse, knowing or unknowing. THE COURIER decided to assist the NCR in making a trek they likely wouldn't have been able to do otherwise. THE COURIER made the decision to help with meddling in things that should be left alone.

And in doing so, the courier not only acted as an agent of one of the poisons plaguing the mojave, but destroyed what was, in Ulysses's eyes, the last hope of freedom from both The NCR and The Legion, and for the second time, a place that he called home was taken from him.

Now think about the gameplay of Lonesome Road. Unlike the other DLCs you are not stuck in it. You are allowed to turn around and leave at any moment. YOU decide to follow the invitation. YOU decide to walk the Lonesome Road. YOU, once again, mess with extremely dangerous old world tech. YOU pull the lever that ends up launching a nuke and creating The Couriers Mile. That may not have been your intention, but once again, YOU did actions that have consequences.

Then once you meet him, YOU are left to decide how you deal with him. Through diplomacy or brute strength. Either way, you close the book on a long story of trauma and are handed the fate of his plan to do with as you please.

In a way, I think of him as a sort of mirror to the player character. He's walked many of the same roads you have, seen the same sights you have. For someone playing blind, they might start following the "Good option" of the NCR but quickly get disillusioned with it after seeing its many failings and decide to strike out your own path, much like he did with The Legion. His quest for revenge sets him on a path that would shape the mojave to his choosing, just like yours did. He is your shadow.

#fallout new vegas #ulysses

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mixelation · 9 months

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How about Temari and Zabuza?

send me the rarest of pairs and i'll tell you if i ship it & how it would work

ummm i like the bizarreness of the ship so i'd probably click on it, but i'm not really feeling otherwise.

how it would work..... let's see. we'll say zabuza either lived through wave or wave simply didn't happen. he's still lurking around as a missing-nin for hire.

i think i'd have some contrived circumstance so he and temari are forced to team up on the fly. haku is off taking care of some other business and temari is either on a solo mission or got separated, something like that. so they somehow get stuck together in territory that unfamiliar to them both and also people are trying to kill them, possibly for entirely separate reasons.

i think the interpersonal tension in this ship would from temari basically being suna nobility and zabuza being a discarded tool. i think zabuza would resent her a little for this-- temari is stated to be the best wind justu user in the entire allied ninja forces or something like that, so he would respect her combat prowess, but also she's the beloved sister of the kazekage. if she gets told to do something unspeakable and she does it, no one is going to turn around and call her a monster for it.

but also from temari's POV her father basically killed her mother by sealing the ichibi into gaara in utero*, and then he immediately decided gaara should die for being unstable, and until she was like 14 temari agreed with this. and then she spent YEARS deprogramming her mind and helping gaara fix the fucked up culture of suna that their father created. so i think she would have a lot of sharp-mouthed commentary to zabuza's drawling and nihilistic philosophizing about the nature of being a ninja.

and i think i would find this sort of back and forth kind of annoying, which is why i don't ship it LMAO

*i just reread gaara's origin story while waiting in a very long line, and that shukaku was stuck in him in utero raised a lot of questions. for example. what the fuck.

#ask meme answer

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ahmedmootaz · 3 months

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Since you respond here quicker than ao3 and had to look up what was my question, why won't X give himself a new name post-tMFoA? I can get the explanation with Hope. (And had X had been named Hope in au, I really would’ve think Angela would scoff at the reminder from Hope the person, with the seed of light being grown by blood and suffering)

But this is actually me segue on what will X and Angela would name BH? Would it be the same as Ayin, since one is a clone and the other is his creation? (Weirdass family tree there) or one or both of them have better naming sense than him?

What about Carmen anyways, how's her naming skill? And why not throw The Distortion, I guess. Because who names them, the distorted themselves? TD? the patron librarian (and lcb sinners)?

I was mostly thinking X and Angela adopting BH post-AiP (but an au of X being part of Library founding would be neat in a different ask) but wasn’t sure how far BH is cause Angela in her bad end has ridiculously long hair, versus LoR's short hair. Cause X's fate is nebulous if he wants to live long, or died from the battle or from clone degradation.

So potentially we could have Angela adopting BH with fond memories of X, X lived long enough to love and care for BH but still cut short anyways, or none of those two and I'll finally get X/Angela slowburn.

Dear astrocouriers,

Good questions all around! And quite the complex and interesting ones too, although I hope you'll forgive me for not replying too quickly, even though it was quicker than the time it would've taken on AO3, ahah.

Essentially, my personal reasoning for why X wouldn't change his name is that whatever he would choose wouldn't be him anymore. Being "Hope" or "Ayin 2" or any other name simply wouldn't have had the relevancy to him that X does; simply changing his name would be too easy after everything he went through, in a way. There would be no struggle in just deciding to be "Hope" from now on, but it simply isn't who he was. He was never the hope that the Corporation's denizens needed, and he wouldn't stand up to Ayin's legacy and power, he was simply an unknown factor in an otherwise perfectly planned equation. An 'X' factor, if you will.

Hence, X's name to him signifies that battle that he had to endure. It signifies that he was simply a variable that had no real purpose beyond his assigned role, a failed clone with little abilities compared to his original version and with a far meeker attitude, unimportant enough to the grand scheme of everything and everyone that he wasn't even given a proper name.

But more than just that, it especially signifies that he survived. In spite of all of these hurdles, in spite of being a faceless, nameless clone with a singular task and no grand purpose after it, in spite of being intended to simply die after his purpose was complete, he not only lived, but he carved himself into a person. The name X, then, is a proof that he survived everything that was thrown at him and gave a meaning to a nameless, faceless clone, just as Ayin gave meaning to the hollow word that 'promise' is in the City when he promised Carmen and went through the unimaginable for her.

As a last note, I think X wouldn't like discarding his name because, despite all of the negative memories associated with it, it's the name he came to recognise for himself as well. For all of the pain it holds, it holds a lot of happiness and relief as well, a constant reminder that regardless of how bleak it is, he can make it out again, just as he made it in the Corporation after countless (mostly forgotten) restarts to the Script.

As for your second question, hmmm...I think Angela would have great difficulty finding names, and honestly, so would X, seeing how both of them are either close to Ayin's method of thinking in X's case and straight-up Ayin's daughter in Angela's case, which means both of their creative skills are likely a...dud, to say the least. Still, I reckon that eventually they can settle on something that they'd find from their books, such as Aqua because X is a sentimental fool and the name reminds him of Angela's hair (plus the name is semi-neutral so whether or not the BH is a boy or a girl it'd work). But yeah, if the other Librarians were around, they'd likely be the ones to find a suitable name while Angela and X argue together about how weird/not weird their relationship/family tree is.

As for Carmen, considering she's the exact opposite of Ayin, I'd say her naming skills are vastly superior, and that she/The Distortion is likely the one that picks Distortion names, seeing how most Distortions aren't exactly conscious enough to pick their own names. If we go by the theory that Abnormality names were also spawned from Carmen's subconscious/Bucket, then she seems to have quite the palette of names to choose from, definitely something she'd be sad she couldn't transfer to her daughter, hehe.

If I recall correctly, Angela's bad ending occurs some thirteen years after Roland's defeat, so in such a scenario, I think X would definitely choose Angela repairing his wounds and degradation so he could not only live with her, but with the BH. I think X isn't averse to living a long life, actually, but I also think he would wish to die at some point. He's evaded Death long enough now, and even if he decides to grow old with Angela by his side, he has to pay his due one day, and he'd like to come to terms with it on his own instead of being forcefully evicted out of his mortal coil.

In other words, yes, I think that if Angela and X adopt the BH, you'll finally get your Angela/X slowburn, kehehe.

Once again, thank you for the insightful and fun ask, astrocourier! I hope to see you again soon! Be well, stay safe, and see ya'!

#lobotomy corporation #library of ruina #my writing #ayin #manager x #angela #ask #library of ruina spoilers

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michaelmilligan · 7 months

Text

Midam Appreciation Week Day 4: It's a free ride when you've already paid

The cabin trembled as magic swirled in the air, dark red turning to purple as it formed a circle, first small and then growing, growing. Adam's hand gripped tighter around his upper arm where it felt as if more blood wanted to seep out, to join the almost half a litre which he had taken for the spell.

The equipment lay discarded on a nearby table, and Adam wasn't sure if it trembled because the room was shaking, or because the last remaining drops on it were subjected to the same pull he felt.

Alicia had looked at him weirdly when he'd pulled out the needle and blood bag, and had muttered about knives and cuts on hands, but Adam hadn't listened. He might need both of his hands later, he reasoned, and besides, why be less sophisticated than you needed to be?

Just because this was blood magic didn't mean he had to behave like a stereotypical evil with.

The portal stopped growing at about the diameter of Adam's height, and within a heartbeat, the sloshing purple turned black in the middle, only the rim still shining with colour.

The hair on Adam's arms stood up as cold swept over him that had nothing to do with temperature. There was no temperature in the Empty, because there were no waves, no mass, no nothing. It was, as its name so accurately advertised, empty.

Except for the angels and demons, of course. Hordes of them, Adam imagined, lying in eternal slumber.

Michael had told him about that place, in hushed whispers and with a quivering in his grace that he had otherwise only ever gotten when speaking about his father. That was the only reason that Adam knew where Michael was now. His brothers hadn't been of any help, all their words boiling down to 'good riddance' when he'd asked what he could do. Most of the books he'd read about angels had either been completely useless or staggeringly inaccurate, to the point that he'd put more than one down laughing bitterly, and eager to throw them against the nearest wall.

But finally, there had been hope – a manuscript that Max had learned of through a connection, written relatively recently, and by a prophet. The man, Donatello, had said that he didn't get visions anymore, had maybe spent all his divine inspiration in the burst of productivity around the time of the rapture.

Not many people remembered the rapture, but Donatello did, though he couldn't have said if this fit had happened before, during or after it. Apparently, his memory was a little muddled due to his soul being returned to his body recently.

Adam hadn't pried further, and it didn't really matter whether the old or the new god had made Donatello spit out the pages of information. All that had mattered was getting it from him – and in the end, they had struck a bargain.

While Donatello knew not every John Doe should have the recipe to calling an archangel back from the Empty, he had also been eager to get rid of everything that reminded him of his time as a prophet. He had been thinking of giving everything to the Winchesters, but had left this one piece to Adam for the small price of a supply of healing potions against his hypertension.

Alicia had grumbled about it, but Adam had done most of the work anyway, and soon he had held in hand the one thing he had wanted most in the world for two years: A way to get Michael back.

Alicia and Max had already left the cabin, and should by then have been far enough away to not be in immediate danger if anything went wrong. Not that anything was currently happening at all – the portal simply hung in mid-air, not even a ripple in the sleek black surface.

“Come on, Michael,” Adam muttered, digging his fingernails into the skin of his upper arm. Then, louder, he said: “Michael! I'm here!”

He couldn't go in – that much had already been clear to him from Michael's description of the Empty. His body would die immediately, since there was not only no air, but also nothing else material in the Empty. Maybe it would simply evaporate as soon as he stepped through.

Which would have left his soul, but what good was a puny little human against a primordial entity? The Empty would have put him to sleep immediately, or would perhaps simply have snuffed him out of existence for daring to enter its domain.

In short, Adam was no use to Michael on the other side, so all he could do was open a portal for him and wait. Since it was opened with his blood, which still had traces of Michael's grace in it after over a thousand years of possession, it should have served as a beacon for him to follow.

The manuscript hadn't been clear on whether it would be enough to wake him, but Adam had to believe that it was, or that Michael was already awake on his own and searching for a way out.

He had to believe it, because it was his only hope. The only way he could get his best friend back. His only friend – or at least he had been, back before Adam had met Alicia and Max.

Michael had been his confidante, and the one who had kept him alive both literally and figuratively in the cage, staving off both hunger and loneliness. And even back on Earth, he had stayed, had made it so Adam never had to be hungry or lonely, or in a place he didn't want to be. They had flown all around the world. Kairo, Egypt. Kyoto, Japan. They had walked on the Great Wall of China, and had looked down from the top of the Burj Khalifa, where Michael had begrudgingly admitted that the skyscraper rivalled his True Form in height.

All of this, they had done together – and then, Michael had been gone, taken from Adam by his father, the being who Michael had loved most in the world.

Adam's eyes dimmed at the thought that he himself had never been Michael's most important person, and could never hope to be. But God was dead, or at least 'not a problem anymore', as Dean had said, and Adam stepped closer to the portal, clenching his fist.

“Michael! You said you'd stay with me! You promised-” Adam's voice wavered as he furiously blinked back tears. They had promised to stay together in that dingy motel room in New York, the one Michael had been relived to take them from because even he couldn't identify what had caused the stains on the bed.

Adam almost smiled at the memory, and then he almost cried, and he opened his eyes as the door behind him was thrown open.

“Adam! What-” Dean's voice said, cutting off abruptly as he presumably saw the portal.

Adam only glanced at him and Sam, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of his attention.

“Go away,” he told them.

“Adam, what have you done?” Sam asked, fear in his voice, and Adam tried not to let it get to him.

Yes, he was playing with fire. The portal was meant to bring Michael back to him, but who knew what else might come through, if anything at all.

But Adam had been ready to torch half the world to see his most important person again, once upon a time. He was ready to do the same again, now, for Michael.

Just when Dean started to say something, his voice a growl, the portal changed from black to blue – an angel was coming through.

Sam and Dean both gasped, and Adam felt rather than heard himself doing the same as hope and fear battled within him. Soon, the cabin was bathed in light, windows rattling and the table shaking so much that the ingredients and equipment Adam had used slid off, one after another falling to the floor.

As Sam and Dean's surprised noises turned to pained ones, Adam kept staring straight at the angel pushing through the portal, their True Form filtering through only slowly. But it was soon clear that this wasn't Michael – the halos were all off, and he was more radiant than this one, though the silver gleam of the otherwise blue grace was decidedly similar.

Raphael, Adam decided as the archangel brought the last of themself through, and Adam's body was filled with ice despite the heat in the room.

“Dean!” Sam called behind him, and then Adam heard shuffling, as if his so-called brothers were trying to find the door with hands over their eyes, and they stumbled out of the cabin.

He still didn't turn around to them.

For a moment, some of Raphael's eyes rested on Adam. They blinked slowly, and then the archangel flew upwards, leaving the cabin and presumably returning to Heaven.

Adam thought that the portal would close – that he had gotten the wrong archangel, and that was it. He had failed, had done the spell, had not been good enough- But then, something else came through.

Not an angel this time, Adam noticed with dread, but a demon, black smoke in the vague shape of a woman. It was a fraction of the size of an archangel, and soon it was all through, and collected itself as a dark-haired woman with a smirk on her face.

Baffled, Adam barely reacted as she walked up to him and pressed a kiss to the side of his face. “Thanks for the assist,” she said, and sauntered out of the room.

There were more entities then, angels and demons, a steady stream with sometimes two or more at once pushing through the portal. Adam didn't understand how this could be, how he could have woken up so many beings with his one spell, but it was a minor concern at the back of his mind.

The most important thing was to keep looking at the portal, and to wait for Michael to come out.

There were so many angels. Fewer demons, though of them also at least a dozen. Then, when another angel had pushed through and taken the form of a slender blond man who sleeked back his hair and walked calmly out of the cabin, there was a dreadful moment of nothing.

Adam kept watching the portal, which was once again unmoving, though at least it wasn't diminishing in size or showing other signs of closing. And then, suddenly, another archangel – Lucifer, Adam realised with a start, more baffled than scared.

He had no beef with the devil, personally – he had seemed cordial enough in the cage, mostly having left Michael and him alone. But the fact that he was one of those escaping when Michael still hadn't shown up made Adam feel a bit resentful.

Lucifer's True Form blinked like shards of ice in the sun, and a number of his eyes twinkled with something like mirth.

DON'T WORRY, he said, his True Voice splintering some of the windows.

Adam just stood there silently, unimpressed and unamused.

Lucifer gave something like a laugh before he flew away, perhaps towards Heaven or perhaps towards where Gabriel had taken off some minutes earlier – wherever that was.

Then, Adam saw that something else was coming through. Someone else.

With a racing heart, and telling himself not to get his hopes up, Adam watched as more of the angel tickled through. The archangel, he mentally corrected himself.

There were only four archangels, and three had already flown off.

Adam felt tears roll down his face as Michael emerged from the portal, his wings dragging behind but finally fully through and spreading out, silver feathers rustling as Michael adjusted their position.

Some of Michael's eyes had already been trained on Adam, and now more and more shifted to him after taking in their surroundings, though some also turned away, almost shyly.

Adam stared at him. Michael both stared back and avoided his eyes.

One of his eyes wandered to the other side of his True Form to evade him.

Finally, Adam said: “Michael.”

Michael's grace twinkled in what might have been delight.

HI, he said.

Hi. Michael had died, had left Adam all on his own, and the only thing he could think to say to him was 'hi'?

“Hey,” Adam said back, equally at a loss for words. “I- the portal, I opened-”

THANK YOU, Michael said. WE WOULDN'T HAVE MADE IT OUT WITHOUT IT. JACK HAD TO WAIT UNTIL YOU OPENED THE PORTAL.

Adam fell silent. 'We' – so Michael was aware that he wasn't the only one who had escaped, and he was fine with it. And Jack - the new God - had helped?

But that was a question for another day.

“Yeah?” Adam asked, a quiver in his voice. In the many scenarios he had come up with for their reunion, ranging from the happiest day of his life to the worst, he had never imagined that it could be awkward.

YOU BROUGHT ME BACK, Michael said, and Adam noticed the softness in his voice even if the cabin still shook. I DIDN'T KNOW- THAT IS, UNLESS YOU BROUGHT ME BACK TO YELL AT ME-

Michael's True Form didn't have shoulders, and yet he still managed to slump, almost cowering in front of Adam's puny human form.

“Yell at you? Michael, what the fuck are you talking about?” Adam didn't often swear, not in front of Michael, who had about the same sensibilities about it as Adam's mom. But in that moment, it seemed warranted. “I brought you back, because- because I need you.”

Adam's voice broke, the truth of those words leaving him shaking, his legs threatening to give out.

Michael was silent for a long moment.

I SEE, he eventually said, and the detachedness of his tone made Adam's shivering worse. YOU NEED TO EAT AGAIN, AND DRINK. YOU AGE, AND YOUR BODILY PROCESSES-

“What are you talking about?” Adam called, exasperation and tears in his voice. “I need you because you're my best friend, and because you're the only one who I want wrap his grace around my soul like it's a blanket, and because you always sigh and roll all your eyes when I want fast food but you let me eat it anyway, and because you're so grumpy when we wake up even though neither of us needs to sleep, and... and because I don't want to live without you!”

Michael blinked at him with all his eyes, which had focused back on him during his little speech. Even the eye that had fled before came around again to peer down at Adam.

It seemed preposterous to tell an archangel that you wanted him to stay forever. Especially with his siblings back in the world of the living, and Michael being free from his father for the first time in his entire existence. But it was the truth, and Adam could no longer hold it back.

OH, Michael eventually said, and then: ARE YOU SURE?

Adam was still trembling, and had to grip the edge of the table for balance. “If you want to break up with me, just say so,” he bellowed, hurt and exhaustion taking hold in his mind and body as the tension left him and only a bone-deep tiredness remained.

Yeah, so maybe he hadn't slept in two days, and had lost a bunch of blood earlier. And maybe he hadn't eaten properly, too excited to hold anything down anyway.

BREAK UP? ADAM, WE- Michael's grace sparkled in confusion and – something else. WE'RE TOGETHER?

“We have an agreement, remember?” Adam pulled out a chair and lowered down on it, taking measured breaths. He didn't take his eyes off Michael.

After a moment, and with softness in his voice, Michael said: YES. ADAM... I DON'T WANT TO BREAK UP WITH YOU.

“Good.” Adam closed his eyes for a moment, feeling like he was about to pass out. “Do you need... I mean, your siblings all went who knows where, do you want to talk to them before... like, you're coming back, right?”

I- Michael hesitated, which may have been a first for him.

“It's okay, I'll just rest here or something. Oh, uh, I think Sam and Dean are outside, they'll probably be annoying, but it's not like they're gonna harm me, right?” Adam slung his arms around himself, still cold.

I THINK CASTIEL HAS ALREADY TAKEN CARE OF YOUR BROTHERS, Michael said. AND ADAM... I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE. MY SIBLINGS HAVE THEIR OWN PATHS, AND I HAVE MINE NOW.

Oh. That was surprisingly zen for him.

“So you're coming back, like, into me, right?” Adam asked, putting a hand over his chest.

IF YOU WILL ALLOW IT.

“Dude, how else are we gonna hang out 24/7? Come on in!”

YOU HAVE TO-

“Oh, right. Yes. The answer is yes.” As soon as Adam breathed out the last syllable, Michael's grace surged towards him, an almost frightening stream of heat and power that started pouring into Adam's mouth, his nose, and every pore in his body.

Adam had forgotten how overwhelming the possession was – every nerve in his body was on fire, and the world both narrowed down and expanded to Michael, the brightness of his grace, the vastness of his form, the fondness in his eyes and in his essence.

When Michael was settled, grace curling soothingly and protectively around soul, he blinked their eyes open, and looked down at their hands as if seeing them for the first time.

Is it very different? Adam asked, suddenly realising that two years of ageing and life might have changed his body.

Not very, no, Michael said, a whisper pressed against Adam's soul. But I've missed you, and your ridiculously small form.

Hey, I'm tall for a human, Adam told him with playful affront, a repetition of a joke almost as old as their friendship.

Maybe, but you're small in the grand scheme of things, Michael said back, delight flowing from his grace into Adam's soul.

Or maybe it was flowing the other way around, or in both directions. Adam didn't know, and he didn't care, as long as Michael was with him.

I love you, Adam whispered against Michael's grace, a thought so raw and born from desperation that his soul shivered with it.

I love you too, the ball of raging fire in his chest whispered back, and gently squeezed his soul.

And with that – a being with the power of a thousand suns carefully snuggling Adam's soul – they were off. To a new place, and a new life, free of fate and duties.

And, most importantly, with each other.

#Yes the title is a line from the song Ironic #It's the good adviiiice that you just didn't take...#Anyway. A post-finale fix-it because. That simply can't stand.#midamap2023 #Midam #Sam and Dean are there for a hot minute #The one where Jack stages a jail break but he needed help and Adam was already doing this so

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macgyvermedical · 1 year

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Hi hope you’re doing well!

in The Last of Us episode 5, Joel gets stabbed in the gut and immediately pulls the blade out.

Obviously if you get stabbed, the best thing to is leave the weapon in place and get to a hospital immediately, but I’ve heard some people argue that in this circumstance (zombie apocalypse, with enemies pursuing them) that Joel did the right thing, since there was no hospital/surgeon he could go to anyway, and the knife would get in his way if he needed to fight or ride on a horse.

I was wondering what your thoughts on this were because I’ve been thinking about it a lot haha. I don’t think his survival in the show after that stab wound was particularly realistic but, what’s typically the best course of action in such a low resource environment? (I understand you can’t give medical advice obviously)

anyway thanks for your time and have a good day!

The reason you're leaving an impaled object in is because you want to take it out in as controlled an environment as possible.

The most controlled environment, in the case of a gut stabbing, would be a fully staffed operating room with blood products standing by, IV antibiotics hanging, and anesthesia/paralytic agents on board.

The reason for this is that there are a lot of things in the abdomen that can cause severe problems when stabbed. If i'm interpreting the gifsets correctly the stab was in the upper right part of his abdomen. It doesn't look quite high up enough to have hit his liver, but that would be a concern depending on the direction and length of the impaling object. Livers bleed a LOT when stabbed. And pulling a blade out generally does more damage, as well as preventing that blade from putting any pressure directly on the source of the bleeding.

Not only that, but Joel's intestines are probably in the way of the blade as well- they're really packed in there, and it's exceedingly difficult to stab someone without hitting intestine. The intestine, of course, is full of poop. And the sac holding the intestine is otherwise sterile, so if you spill poop into that sac you generally cause a massive, massive infection called peritonitis (the same thing you can die of if your appendix ruptures). Pulling the knife out here would spread the poop around a little more, and again possibly done more damage to the intestine, which also needs to be intact to later digest food.

There is also an aorta, which would have caused Joel's death pretty immediately if stabbed, and some other smaller vessels that he probably could have survived getting severed, assuming they did not serve something he needed later, like a stretch of intestine.

Now, as you mentioned, Joel will never have access to a controlled operating room with trained staff. So while he might be making things worse by pulling out the blade, he know's he's either definitely going to die now because he can't fight/escape or probably die later because of damage that really has already been done, so he chooses the latter, which still gives him the best chance of survival.

Now, his absolute best-luck scenario here is something like this account of low-resource surgery taken from Improvised Medicine by Kenneth V Iserson:

Along with this description of a low-resource abdominal surgery, being sure to flush as much as possible of the poop out of the abdominal cavity with saline as possible- called peritoneal lavage- can help decrease the bacterial load in the abdomen and decrease the risk of sepsis.

Probably the second-best thing he could hope for would be something like the attempt to save Malachai in Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank (fictional prep for an abdominal trauma surgery, but very well described):

[Dan] crawled out and said, "He's in shock and shouldn’t be moved and ought to have a transfusion. But we have to move him if I'm to do anything at all. On what?"

There was a discarded door in the toolhouse. They moved him on that.

They laid Malachai on the billiard table in the gameroom and then massed lamps and candles so that Dan would have light. Dan said, "I have to go into him. Massive internal hemorrhage. I've got to tie it off or there’s no chance at all. How? With what?"

"My hunting knife, the one I shave with? It's sharp as a razor, almost."

"No, Too big, too thick. How about steak knives?"

"Sure, steak knives." The short-bladed steak knives even looked like lancets. The Judge and Randy's mother had bought the set in Denmark on their summer in Europe in 'fifty-four. They were the finest and sharpest steak knives Randy had ever used. He found them in the silver chest and called, "How many?"

"T’wo will do."

From the dining room Helen called, "I've put on water to boil-a big pot." The dinner fire had been going and Helen had piled on fat wood so it roared and Dan would soon have the means of sterilizing his instruments. Randy put them into the pot to boil. After that, at Dan’s direction he put in his fine-nosed fishing pliers. Florence Wechek ran across the road for darning needles. Lib found metal hair clips that would clamp an artery. Randy's six-pound nylon line off the spinning reel would have to do for sutures.

There was enough soap to cleanse Dan's hands. Dan went into the dining room, fretting, waiting for the pot and his instruments to boil. It was hopeless, he knew. In spite of everything they might do sepsis was almost inevitable, but now it was the shock and the hemorrhage he couldn’t lick. He wondered whether it would be possible to rig up a saline solution transfusion. They had the ingredients, salt and water and fire; and somewhere, certainly, rubber tubing. He would not give up Malachai. He wanted to save Malachai, capable, quiet, and strong, more than he had ever wanted to save anybody in his years as a physician. So many people died for nothing. Malachai was dying for something.

In the gameroom Helen was at work, quick and competent. She had found their last bottle of Scotch, except what might remain in Randy's decanter upstairs, and was cleansing the wound with it. Randy and Lib stood beside her. The pool of blood in the round hole ebbed and did not rise again. The water was boiling in the big iron pot when Randy walked into the dining room and touched Dan's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid it's all over."

Third best is probably to pack the wound, since sewing or otherwise closing the wound would trap everything inside. Hopefully there's not a ton of damage to the intestines (a couple of very small nicks might scar back together without needing surgery if he was really lucky).

#whump reference #writing reference #abdominal surgery #low resource medicine

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lycanlovingvampyre · 1 year

Text

MAG 154 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: apple cutting + sitting thrilled on the couch.

Ah yes, I remember it so clearly when I heard that episode the first time. I was almost done cutting apples, but I didn't quite feel satisfied after MAG 152 and 153, those are statement that were a bit subtle for me. So I thought "Okay, I'll give one more episode a shot" (even though the episode title didn't sound particularly interest-piquing) and then it’s a Gertrude tape and I had some problems following a lot of Gertrude statements before, I don't know, her voice makes me sleepy xD And I was already prepared to drift away during this episode again and felt a bit demotivated. But I kept going. Well, best fucking decision ever. As soon as I realized she's reading from the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead I was like "Ohhhhh!"

JON: "And I started to pay attention to the ones I… wasn’t drawn to. The tapes I instinctively wanted to discard." That's very clever, go against what the Eye wants!

JON: "There was one, this one, that my hand… pulled back from. I dropped it, twice, when I went to pick it up." Lol, that actually sounds funny. Like "Whoops! I dropped it... Woaa, dropped it again, ahaha, clumsy me."

JON: "I am the avatar of awful knowledge and revealed secrets." Oh Jon, you theater kid!

GERTRUDE: "“When he opened his eyes, he of course saw nothing" Ok, she already read that part and still couldn't guess what was necessary to quit. Already talked about this in MAG 111 - because of this I think those memory-ghosts of the Catalogue work like the appearances of people plugged into the Matrix, a mental projection of their self. How they most liked seeing themselves. So when it comes to depicting Book!Eric, I think he'd still have intact eyes. Cause he says he "destroyed them completely", I can't imagine how one could not see that, if the appearance is the same as in the moment of death.

I love how similar Eric and Gerry sound, and I don't think it's because of the ghostly echo. After all, we do have a recording of Gerry without that effect. Very good VA choice!

ERIC: "I know that I’m not really Eric; I’m just a memory someone wrote down. It hurts, most of the time." Primarily it's probably meant to be an effect of the Catalogue's nature, of the Fears just doing their job. But I guess the knowledge of not actually being you also makes it weird and uncomfortable. Sometimes I think about that, like what are we anyway? Isn't the memory of oneself's entire life basically what makes one that particular person (+ hardwired personality probably)? Because it still matters on which hardware we run. Otherwise, how would we explain body dysphoria?

ERIC: "You too. (beat) You got old." GERTRUDE: "Better than being dead." ERIC: (short sigh of a laugh) "Fair enough. To be honest, I’m impressed, more than anything. Hard to get old in this business. You either die, or you, uh, stay young. (short, uncomfortable pause) …How did Mary look?" GERTRUDE: (same sort of short laugh) "She got old, too." Well, let's see, this is in 2008. My educated guess from MAG 35 was that Gerry was born sometime around 1983 or 1984. Perhaaaps 1985 when we'll go with the most extreme numbers from MAG 35. We don't know when exactly Mary killed Eric, Eric says he left the Archives months before she killed him. So, Eric died.. what? 1984 or 1985? So he hasn't seen Gertrude in over 20 years! He probably saw Mary a few times since she summoned him to bounce off ideas of him. But even if she kept doing that for a few years and then stopped, 15 years would still be a long time with visible changes^^

ERIC: "And Gerry? Have you seen my son?" Nawwww... He actually calls him Gerry, like he always wanted friends (and probably loved ones) to call him.

ERIC: "Yeah, it doesn’t feel great. But being dead, I s’pose you don’t feel things quite as strongly. Little bit – flat." Ha, flat like a piece of paper!

ERIC: "Elias? Elias Bouchard, seriously?!" GERTRUDE: "Hm, he’s changed a lot." <.<

GERTRUDE: "So. What did they not want me to know?" ERIC: "I quit." GERTRUDE: "You – Sorry, you quit?" ERIC: "Yeah. I figured out how." Well, on my first listen I was sitting at the edge of the sofa at that point, staring wide-eyed at the TMA logo in the YT video on screen.

ERIC: "You know, you were never actually all that nice to me when I worked for you, Gertrude. Not like Michael, or Emma." Hahahaha, very good, let her dangle a bit! I'd like to say I'd do the same but I know that in the end I never want to give people, one: what they did to me, and two: something they could hold against me in return.

Eric: "I don’t know what she saw in me, not really." Not-really counter of S4: 20!

ERIC: "You were almost there, you know, with your theory that James could watch us from any eye, even an illustration. What did you do? How did you sever that link?" GERTRUDE: "My God!" Yeah, at that point I said "Fuuuuck" out loud... My spouse was sitting on the couch next to me was like ?? and I just kept saying "Fuck" over and over again. First: Eyes are one of the body parts I find the most horrific... I can watch every body horror torture splatter movie without problems but when it's about eyes... Fuck off! If I'd be in that position I'd be like "Yeah, you know what, I actually like the Archives! Screw that, y'all go ahead and do what you must do, but keep me out of it." Second, I love moments like this in fiction! The last one like this I remember was when I read The Last Wish (The Witcher) by Sapkowski, specifically The Lesser Evil. When that innkeeper (or whatever that guy was) explained what happened in Tridam and it dawned on me what Renfri was about to do (just like it dawned on Geralt in that moment. I love having the same reaction like characters. When I can discover huge things alongside them).

[TAPE CLICKS ON.] [JON SIGHS HEAVILY.] JON: "Fuck." [TAPE CLICKS OFF.] Yah, same...

JON: "I know. I know what you said, but I just – (inhale) I think I’ve found a way for us to leave the Institute." [BRIEF PAUSE.] MARTIN: "O-kay…?" JON: "Yeah. But it’s – (heavy inhale) It’s pretty drastic." MARTIN: (hah) "What, you going to gouge your eyes out, or something?" [BEAT.] MARTIN: (gets it) "Fuck off!" Such an iconic piece of dialogue xD

MARTIN: "Erm… like, I mean… permanently? Or…" This has the same energy as answering "In general?" to the question of "Haven't seen a dog, have you?"... Those idiots^^

JON: "But we could leave here, you and me. Escape." Eeek <3

JON: (squawk) "Uh, I, I don’t know. I don’t – know. But… maybe it’s worth it? The risk – y-you and me, together, getting out of here –" [MARTIN SNIFFS.] JON: "– one way or another." MARTIN: "Jon." Double Eeeek <3

So what's going on here has a name, URST or UST. It stands for UnResolved Sexual Tension, although I don't like that term cause it's just as well used for unresolved romantic tension. Especially when we're talking about a couple with an ace character, or when it's used in a show for minors about minors (Miraculous is a textbook example). So basically it's a trope to keep suspense going on by having all kinds of obstacles to keep the love interests from actually getting together, usually also having them pine after each other over and over again + once in a while giving them a scene in which it looks like they finally get somewhere. Full disclosure: I'm a sucker for that trope. I loved that in Inu Yasha, I love this in Miraculous (although it's getting a bit destroyed by all the What-if-episodes with a subsequent time reset or memory wipe) and of course I love it in TMA.

JON: "I mean, whatever their plan is for me, I am damn sure that doing that isn’t it. I’d derail everything – we could derail everything, and then just – leave!" Time travel fix-it for TMA is extremely difficult because you basically have these powerful forces which had it all planned out. I think there are actually two points in TMA where it could really take a very different turn. One of them is here. If Jon blinds himself, he won't belong to the Eye anymore and can't complete the ritual. And given what Annabelle says in MAG 197 it sounds like Jon will even survive being cut off from the Eye. (There’s of course still the problem of just going ahead with a new Archivist, so it’s only a temporary resolve...)

MARTIN: "Nothing; It’s just – (one more laugh) It’s just ironic, that’s all." That's totally in the sense of "At any time before taking Peter's deal I would have run away with you in a heartbeat. But back then you never came to me and now when you do it's me who won't do it"-ironic, right?

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #MAG 154 #tma #tma spoilers

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butchsophiewalten · 9 months

Note

Don't know if this was brought up yet regarding the theory about Susan's Death being accidental: in this context, why would her name be on the hit list tape that Billy plays? Do you think someone *else* put her name on there or do you think the tape of names means something else? I personally think someone else has it out for the Walten family and the employees that Felix is either willingly or unknowingly helping (maybe a stretch lol)

I actually brought this up briefly in this long post addendum, but I actually think the Discard tape is a bit of a smoking gun wrt disproving Susan Theory as I've presented it. While I do think Susan was planned to die eventually despite her death as it happened being an accident in this context, sort of an implied aspect of this theory is that Susan's death wasn't intended to be the first in the string of Bon Murders. If that's true, then it makes no sense for the Discard tape to be created on the 11th of June, 1974, as it possibly was.

In that case, it would have to be created some later year between 1975 and 1978, on the anniversary of Jack's disappearance, rather than on the day of. But then, what is the tape for, if it was created after all of the people listed on it, discounting Sophie, have already disappeared? This line of logic sort of single handedly discredits the idea that this tape is some kind of premeditated hit list, but we know so little about it and what it's purpose might be otherwise that I don't actually have any other theories as to what it might be, if not that.

#ask #your theory that someone else is involved in the disappearances and that Felix is only helping them is interesting.#what makes you think that? is it just that you aren't willing to hold felix fully accountable for the disappearances yet-#-for lack of evidence against him? do you think this mysterious third party is Shadow Man?#these questions kinda sound like im being facetious but they're genuine

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hurtcomfortficstilltheend · 1 year

Text

A little post-river pick-me-up.

Lucy Carlyle x gn! Reader

Summary: R makes panqueques con dulce de leche (argentinian crepes filled with a milk based caramel) for the team after the shiver-inducing Thames fiasco.

Warnings: Falling into the Thames (chapter 7 follow-up), me sugarcoating the end because I'm weak for this fandom and this fandom only, and fluff.

A/N: The uncover DEPRAC agent didn't die, Joplin (just noticed in the book she's a man btw) doesn't exist, and Penelope Fittes is a good person, because I say so. Also, reader is Lockwood's cousin.

Word Count: 1.9k

Thank God.

Thank God you were born in a town surrounded by water, thank God your father had insisted on swimming lessons since you were five, thank God you actually learned.

You’d probably drowned otherwise. Jumping from that rooftop, at least fifteen meters high, was already too much of a physical trauma, to add struggling to keep afloat on top of it. Now that you think about it, thank God you’d done all those scouts survival courses too.

The moment the three of you hit the water, and after the initial sinking -followed by the thermic shock and panic- you instinctively swam up to the surface.The night breeze was somehow even colder than the Thames now.

“Lucy!” You yelled with the first gulp of air you got into your lungs. “Anthony!” You weren’t sure how far they could be, if you had drifted away during the fall, if they were still underwater. It was pitch black, and you didn’t even know if you were safe from the golden blade yet.

You kicked your shoes off into the river to lessen the weight, and considered doing the same with your dressing pants. “LUCY!” You heard some rustling in the water near you, and begun a clumsy front crawl towards it. It was your cousin, Anthony, who seemed to have just had his first breath. You held onto his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy." He was having no problem with keeping his head above the water, so you let go.

You rolled your eyes, a dry but sincere "Great." Left your mouth, then you got serious. “I can’t find Lucy.”

He nodded dutifully, but before either of you started calling out for the girl, she popped up a few meters away from you. You thanked God again, but noticed that she was coughing and struggling to stay afloat.

Lockwood got to her first and helped stabilize her, but you noticed that he was just as shaken, so it was kind of up to you to wear the trousers in the situation. Which right now meant to take them off. You had a pair of biking shorts under anyway, no biggie. So you did, discarding your coat into the river as well.

You got closer to Lucy and took Lockwood’s place holding her up. You weren’t sure Lucy knew how to swim at all.

“We need to get to shore ASAP.” Anthony nodded again. You wondered if today’s events were too much for him, he seemed so quiet, unlike his usual self. You already missed his overconfident attitude.

At some point of the trip to the nearby beach, Lucy had actually started swimming by herself. Still, you kept an eye on her, just in case.

Getting out of the river was not as satisfying as you had imagined. You were grateful and relieved to be on solid ground, of course, as the whole group’s muscles were quite fatigued, and you were all agitated after swimming; but the cold that came with it was almost unbearable. The three were shivering violently when you threw yourselves to the gravel to catch your breaths.

Lockwood was the first to sit up. He felt horribly guilty for how the events had unfolded and how all of you had ended up in this situation. He knew it was his fault, his pride started the whole bone glass thing anyway.

Your teeth were chattering, and you knew you all were going to die of hypothermia if you didn’t get home as soon as possible. Besides, sooner or later you were bound to cross paths with a Visitor, and you were in no condition to fight.

You turned to your side, and saw Lucy looking up at the dark cloudy sky with glassy eyes. Her lips were turning purple.

You jumped up into action, and reached an arm towards your girlfriend to help her up too. She struggled a little bit to gain balance, and so did Lockwood, and so did you, but in no time you were walking towards the nearest ghostlight to hail a night cab.

Your appearance wasn’t decent at all. You were all dressed in night attire, but wet to the bone and filthy. Lucy’s mascara was running down her cheeks, and you were barefoot and in gym shorts. For a second you thought you probably looked like wet, sad, kicked puppies. Still, a taxi driver took pity on you and parked.

You didn’t even have the energy to fight Lockwood on this one, or tell him how reckless he had been, or how you could have all died tonight. You were exhausted. Still, as his family, you had the inherent responsibility to make him take account for his actions. “You can take the shower first, Luce.” You told her the moment you stepped into 35 Portland Row.

“Are you sure..?” She turned around to look at you, hesitant to climb up the stairs to your shared room.

You nodded and tried your best to smile for her. “Of course, just don’t use all the hot water again, please.” The joke went right over her head, but she still nodded and made her way to the attic.

You crossed your arms to try and hide your shivering. When you were both alone, you turned to face your cousin. “Dude..”

“I know. I’m sorry” You didn’t mean to make him feel worse about it, but this wasn’t going to just be forgotten and forgiven like almost everything always was.

“You fucked up big time.” He just gulped and stared at his now water damaged dress shoes. You sighed. It was not the time anyways. “Go shower so I can patch up your forehead.” He was about to complain, but you cut him off with a gesture of your hand, “Don’t lie to yourself, we all know you’re an awful nurse. Now go.”

“You sound like aunt Lauren.” He grumbled. That’s how genetics work, you thought, but before you could react, he had already gone upstairs.

You sat on the second bottom stair step, and leaned your body to rest on the wall. You were facing the door, waiting for George to barge in, and tell you all that the mirror had been safely handed to DEPRAC. You truly couldn’t take any other scenario for an answer.

The dissonant shriek the hinges emitted when the entrance door was opened disturbed your sleep. You hadn’t even realized you dozed off. You clothes were still wet and cold, so it couldn’t have been too long.

“George.” You said standing up slowly. Your knees popped and the general soreness hit you like a tidal wave. “Is it over?”

He turned the key and locked the house. “What happened to you-”

“Long story, jumping into the Thames does this sometimes, is it over?” You repeated. It sounded desperate.

He seemed to understand. “Yes, it is. The furnaces are not on during the night, but I made sure they took the mirror to the lowest level to be incinerated first thing in the morning.”

“Good.” Everyone was inside, everything was okay. You were all safe and alive. You tried to hold on to that thought. You breathed out slowly. “I need a shower.”

Halfway up the stairs you looked over your shoulder. “The entirety of today was a clusterfuck. How does argentinian milk caramel crepes tomorrow afternoon sound? If we go to Arif’s before that I can prepare some. This team really needs a pick-me-up.”

George took in your tired eyes and miserable appearance altogether. He formed a half-smile and nodded softly. You did the same and headed to the small bathroom in the attic, making a quick detour to apply a few steri-strips to Anthony's forhead and calling it a day.

You got out of the shower and dried your hair. Your piyamma was already on when you got out of the bathroom and into the room, a cloud of steam following you. The lights were off, but the street’s ghost lamp illuminated enough for you to get to your side of the bed without stumbling over something.

Lucy had been so tired she had fallen asleep over the covers. You picked her up softly, undid the bed and did your best to settle her in, following suit onto your side. She stirred.

“What took you s’long?” she slurred out. You could tell she wasn’t really awake. You answered anyway.

“I was just waiting for George to get home. It's over.” You were lying on your back, and in her drowsy state she got closer and curled onto your side, an arm around your waist. You caressed her hand softly with your fingertips.

“Yeah?” She asked. You hummed in confirmation. Her body relaxed and her breathing evened out. Soon enough, so did yours.

The feeling of freezing water engulfing you and getting into your lungs woke you up. You opened your eyes, the adrenalin already in your bloodstream, muscles itching to get into action. But you didn’t. You were safe, in your room with your girlfriend sleeping soundly by your side. It was just a nightmare.

You didn’t want to go back to sleep though; you knew if you did, your mind would come up with more terrors to torment you with. From your position you checked the clock on the wall. 10.52 a.m. Too early for your liking, but it would have to do.

You got up slowly, making sure Lucy's sleep didn’t get disturbed in the slightest.

Every single fiber of your body was sore, it felt worse than the night before, but it made sense, so you decided to ignore it.

You brushed your teeth and picked up some clothes to change downstairs.

After getting the supplies and getting the pancake pan going, little by little the house started waking up.

“Would you please put the kettle on the stove?” You asked George. He was the first to wake up and the most alive looking, at least compared to the shapeless form slumped over the table, AKA your cousin Anthony. Lucy hadn’t gotten up yet.

It was one p.m. when the last crepe left the pan. They were all stacked up on a plate, ready to be filled with dulce de leche and enjoyed. The tea was already in the teapot, Ariff's swiss rolls on display, and other add ons made by George scattered around.

Still, Lucy wasn’t there.

“Don’t you dare start without us.” you said in an over dramatic manner, pointing at them and making a threatening gesture as you headed upstairs. You knew they were going to be halfway down the stack by the time you came back anyway, but you didn’t actually care that much.

“Lucy…” You sing-songed when you got to the attic. At first glance you noticed she hadn’t changed position from when you left her a few hours before.

You sat on the edge of the mattress and ran your fingers through her hair. Slowly but surely, she started stirring, her eyelashes fluttering open.

“Hi.” She croaked out.

“Hi, babe. There are fresh crepes in the kitchen, and I was wondering if you wanted some… you know, before they get eaten by George and Anthony… who were left unsupervised just about now in front of the plate-”

She jolted up at that. You knew it would do the trick, since it was her favorite dish. She smiled broadly, gave you a little peck on the cheek and got into the bathroom.

In no time you were both heading towards the kitchen, holding hands.

Bonus:

You were surprised to see the guys hadn’t gotten to inhaling the food yet. Then realized as they handed you a butterknife, they were just too lazy to actually spread the caramel into the crepes. You rolled your eyes, but prepared one for each, and then another one. You ate last, but you didn’t mind, you were happy you could bring a smile into their faces, even if it was just with something as simple as food.

After finishing the breakfast feast, the whole agency, one by one disappeared into your bedrooms to take a well deserved nap.

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niuttuc · 8 months

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New budget Commander cards: Wilds of Eldraine: Multicolor and colorless

You know these by now, we’ll go color by color, mixing main set and commander set. Reprints can be included if they brought the price down under our bar or are otherwise notable. All the cards presented here are under $2 at time of writing Note that the set hasn’t officially released yet, so some prices may still be inflated, and others might spike in the future. Cards will be evaluated as part of the 99, not as commanders. This is the second of two multicolor write-ups, the other focused on the adventures from the set.

———

A 4 mana creature that needs additional mana AND to untap before doing anything is not a winning proposition she can do some pretty fun things with enchantments though, be them auras or not. By herself, she can pay two to scry 2 and draw a card with unbridled growth, for example, as many times as you have mana. Is that worth the effort? Probably not, but it's a fun option for enchantment decks. She does work with auras or enchantments with great etb effects like Sage's Reverie or Mantle of the Ancients... But those cards don't need help to be good already.

———

If you can avoid the third chapter, either through saccing, destroying, blinking, or removing counters from the saga, this is a great rate for clones, particularly nonlegendary, hasty ones. Hate Mirage is a decent card, and this trades immediate value for more value in the long term, but if this make you two (or more!) permanent clones for four mana, it's a great card!

———

Those creatures that make everything enter with a +1/+1 counter are usually already three mana at least. This is that, but enabling a bunch of enchantment synergies instead, and coming packaged with some minor upsides (Trample from the Monster Role and Ward 1 from the Royal Role will be the most common choices.) And this is a 3/4 ward 1, essentially, for three mana. It doesn't go infinite with Persist like the +1/+ counter variants, nor with tokens, but it's great at triggering constellation or pumping up an All That Glitters... Or a Virtuous Role from the same precon.

———

I mentioned in the Red write-up that Rakdos aristocrats was getting more and more tools lately, mostly focused on combat aristocraty things. This just gives an extra body and death trigger for every nontoken creature, which should do wonder in Aristocraty decks. And at the very least, it triggers by itself too.

———

This tappy legend that wants you to tap things is good when you tap things. If you have a deck built around that, like Rhoda and Timin, here's a couple new auto-includes! That might be in consideration for your command zone, to be honest.

———

Two mana looters are quite good these days, uh? Two mana for a looter that also flies and can pseudo-reanimate by itself with flying... Is probably a great option for any deck that wants to do things with their graveyard, but at its best in reanimator decks. And it can keep shifting afterwards! Not much to say here other than this is a great two-drop.

———

X/X flier for X is already pretty good, making a few food tokens along the way and then drawing you a card a turn makes this solid. At least, if you've got a deck to fit it in, Simic isn't the most food-y color.

———

And we close multicolor with a Faerie that wants you to play Draw Go. It's a bit weird that she doesn't have flash herself, unlike Nymris, but there's still a bit of value there. With that said, this would likely be pretty far from my preferred option for instant-speed payoffs.

———

I like Azor's gateway, looting like that on something that doesn't die easily is pretty convenient to see more cards, however, discarding is better than exiling cards. Here, we have essentially that, without the dream of flipping (which is vanishingly rare), but with the ability to do more shenanigans with Treasures or store up mana. This one will play better than it looks.

———

Another one that's likely to get brushed off, but this is I think a pretty underrated way to draw cards in commander at this point. Six mana is a lot, don't get me wrong, but it's in two installments and people do play their Rishkar's Expertises and Return of the Wildspeaker. This gives you a nice upside of managing attacks early, and then it's not uncommon to see four, five or more creatures tapped in commander, at which point this is more than worth the cost. You can activate both halves at instant speed, and the draw doesn't need to tap, so you can also tap down a thing before cracking it for one more card. I haven't seen many commander players mention this, but if you want a big burst of card draw outside of green or blue, give this crown a try!

———

A mana rock for 2 is not as notable for commander as it is for Standard, but it's still relevant to know about. There's plenty of other options for rocks, particularly colorless ones, but this one probably would go best in an equipment deck, as written on it, where it can pull double duty as a rock early and an equipment late. How often will that actually be relevant? Probably almost never, but it's on theme?

———

The cheapest Act of Treason that any deck can get access to, and one of the first. It's not super efficient or anything, but stealing creatures from the board outside of blue (and red for temporary like this) is very rare and is very potent. This one in particular could see use in white or blue to be blinked and reused, in black to sacrifice whatever you stole... It's pretty specific, but good to know about.

———

Reprint

This reprint didn't bring Soul-Guide Lantern under our threshold because it already was very cheap. It still is, cheaper than ever. It's probably the best non-committal option for graveyard hate outside of manabases, and responsible players do play graveyard hate. Do it. It's one sided, it's a single mana, it cycles if you don't need it, it can be fetched by Urza's Saga, and it has a new art that probably looks amazing in foil.

#mtg #commander #edh #sleeper #long post #Wilds of Eldraine #phew #done with this set #took a break yesterday because of Sheldon's passing needing its time #but people enjoying this format is likely how he'd want to be remembered anyway

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spaceacethespookypansfanfics · 1 year

Text

Not Alone

An angsty fic set when Kevin is literally fucking stabbed?? And you know, is left alone. I dunno. I projected way to hard on this man. Enjoy.

(Edit - realised this might need content/trigger warnings, uhhh, blood, panic attacks(?) and I guess stab wound, but nothings like graphically described)

If you were to ask Kevin on any other day, he’d probably say kids are fine. Not great. But fine. Sure they can be loud, obnoxious and just downright heartless sometimes but that doesn’t mean they don’t have some good points to them.

Sometimes kids are nice. They spill their collection of stupid—ahem—cool Halloween decorations (rubber spiders, plastic skeletons and even severed hands with actual (fake) blood coming out the stump) all over your pristine glass counter cause they just wanna show it all to you. That’s cute right?

Well, if you ask Kevin today, he’d adamantly tell you kids can go to hell and they can take their creepy-ass fuckin’ murder dolls with them.

God! Damn! It!

. . .

Blood’s slippery. Kevin always thought it was sticky, he didn’t realise it could be this slippery. Guess that’s what you get for thinking coloured cornstarch would be at all identical to the real thing.

Still. This seems really slippery? Worryingly slippery? Is there something wrong with him?

His hand keeps sliding down his leg when he presses down. Pressure right? That’s what you’re supposed to do to stop from dying right? Well he’s pressing and it’s not working; his hand just keeps moving like his leg’s a damn slip’n’slide or something.

Kevin looks over at the discarded, clearly ineffectual bubblegum Bandaid (that has no doubt introduced a ton of bacteria to his exposed system) and glares at it.

Those damn kids.

This is all their fault. Every bad thing that thrusts itself upon Kevin’s unsuspecting life is always their fault.

If it weren’t for them, he wouldn’t be a living demon detector (can’t go to movie theatres anymore because his eyes glow in crowds now, it’s really distracting at the movies) if it weren’t for them, cops and dealers alike wouldn’t occasionally drop by the store for random drug busts and hold him at gun point (those do wonders for Kevin’s anxiety).

They’ve really outdone themselves this time around. Those two kids will be accredited with Kevin’s tragically and untimely but ultimately very boring death via murder doll.

Terrific.

The adrenaline has faded now. The blood just keeps going though, and Kevin doesn’t think he move anymore. Otherwise he’d be making his way over to the counter to grab his phone (he’d left it charging when he was attacked) to call for help.

He tries a subtle little shimmy to test the waters. Nope. Nope. Not happening. His entire leg is cold and hot and it’s throbbing and his hand keeps moving, it just keeps moving and moving and oh god it’s cold—it’s hot—and I’m alone— oh god I’m alone—no one’s going to find me—I’m going to die here—I’m going to die here cold and alone in a goddamn confectionery shop—I don’t even like candy—

“Kevin? You in there?” The jingle of the bell pulls Kevin from his torrential thoughts. The lights are still off and his vision is too blurry with tears and sweat, he can’t see who’s there. At least it’s someone. “Kevin?”

Wait? Is that Streber?

“Stre—Streber? I—over. . . over here.” Kevin wants to raise his voice, he wants to definitely be found but he also doesn’t want Streber to know he’s been crying either. Still that might not matter in the end of he dies here because his pride wouldn’t let him be loud enough.

There’s a quiet little gasp, the jingle of the bell, and hurried footsteps rushing towards him. Kevin wants to cry even more. Relief. Cry from relief. Not from pain. He’s not like, a baby or anything you know?

“Is—is that—is that blood?” The alarm in Streber’s voice mimics the alarm Kevin’s been feeling since he was stabbed. It makes him want to laugh. He doesn’t. Too scared it’ll hurt.

“Y—uh—yeah. It’s . . . blood. . . Was kinda stabbed. What—what are you doing here?” Kevin is slowly making out Streber’s silhouette hovering over him.

“Me? I’m—I was looking—wait nevermind that! You need to get to the hospital. Can you stand?” Streber doesn’t come any closer from what Kevin can tell, in fact, he takes a half step backwards.

Kevin places both palms flat on the floor and tries to push himself up. His right palm slips a bit on the smooth floor. Cold hot flashes run through him, the throbbing in his leg intensifying. Screaming in front of Streber would be way too embarrassing so Kevin practically shreds the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. He stops trying to get up. “Not really. Help?”

Streber hesitates again. He’s already abnormally stealthy but with the lights out and Kevin’s blurry vision, he’s especially hard to spot. Kevin would almost be scared he’s left him for dead if not for the bell staying silent.

“Streber?” Kevin knows he and Streber aren’t exactly close (they’re just barely friends through a mutual friend group) but surely Streber won’t actually leave him here?

“Right. Right. Okay. Hold on.” Streber sounds urgent and concerned. There’s a rustling of clothes and Kevin can just barely make out Streber’s quiet little muttering of effort. His muttering is replaced with the bright flash of his phone screen. Streber must be calling for help.

Good. Because the idea of only having Streber to move him to the hospital seems like cruel and unjust punishment, all that moving and jostling and bleeding, oh god it’s still bleeding—I’m still bleeding—this is it I’m going to die—

“Kevin, what’s wrong? Hey—hey! Stay with me here. Ke—Kevin, hey.” Something frigid is on Kevin’s face. It shocks his system back into order. Streber’s hands are so much colder than should be humanly possible. On any other day Kevin might hate the feel, but right now, it’s a welcomed change to the cold hot flashes he’s been experiencing.

“Breathe Kevin, it’s okay. Help’s coming.” Has Streber’s voice always been this comforting? There’s something strained about it though, like he’s clenching his teeth. Maybe he’s scared of blood.

Streber starts breathing exaggeratedly and it takes Kevin’s brain a full second to catch on that he’s supposed to copy him. But it gets there and he follow’s Streber’s example.

Once the fog clears, Kevin just wants to shut down. The throbbing in his leg hasn’t subsided but it’s numb. His eyelids are too heavy and everything’s blurry anyway so Kevin let’s them fall. He just barely hears Streber talking as he drifts.

“That’s it. Okay. It’s okay Kevin. Help’s coming. You’ll be okay.”

There’s a siren in the distance but Kevin doesn’t pay any mind to it. He’s too focused on the refreshing chill of Streber’s hands on his face and the sound of Streber’s quiet voice spilling words of comfort.

It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s not alone.

#spooky month kevin #spooky month fanfic #spooky month streber #candybats kinda #streber x kevin #angst #hurt/comfort #candybats #Kevin angst spooky month

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whenthechickencry · 4 months

Text

Umineko EP5. Part 1

Props to Battler for finally trying to understand her, but reminding the person who gave up on everything due to not seeing room for understanding that you do, in fact, not understand her is a choice Battler.

Bernkastel and Lambda are not really wrong here, per se. This game, while having Sayo with differing main motivations than other times, does in fact provide a lot of hints. But also promising to understand someone and then being like "we will give you training wheels" by a third party does seem pretty bad.

Again though, she literally does in fact do that despite the framing as if she's just saying this to mock Battler.

Yeah, this is the best way to describe it, the murderer and the rules are the same but the *motivations* behind it are a bit messed up, still I think showing you someone else's interpretation of Sayo's trauma does help in getting a full picture of her...

The contrast between episode 4 ending with Battler going about how he's gonna kill her she's evil die etc to a guilt-ridden Battler trying really hard to understand her is quite interesting.... one big push made him give up on understanding her and another big push put his mind into understanding her. To be fair, the ending of EP4 was a huge degradation of his character. He was gradually being pushed into this direction, otherwise.

I am sure one person who realized they were never in the same room with Battler before this had a heart attack during this scene.

Hiiiiiii!

Natsuhi is about the only person in the world who would be legitimately weeping at Kinzo dying, it's kind of insane how much of a tryhard she is at keeping her Kinzo headcannons in order to not hate him. It's kind of funny Nanjo says like 3 times Kinzo held no regrets.... seems at first he is just saying that but it is quite true.

Narsuhi's magic doesn't stop at Kinzo, either, she has a whole writing of Krauss and this strong, silently brooding man destroyed by his father's death deep down when he is in fact thinking about how tf to not lose his dad's wealth rn.

lol

Natsuhi is a lot smarter and more competent than Krauss but Natsuhi feels emmasculated and ridiculed by this so he would rather trust a man scamming him than the woman he married. Natsuhi, despite being constantly discarded and lied to and treated as lesser writes headcanons where she is her husband's only ally and he really appreciates her help and respects her secretly even if he fucks up. He will still lie to her about the gold for a couple extra years after she saves his ass here btw.

god man this scene hits so differently now. I was Natsuhi during an abusive relationship during the time crypto and scams were becoming popular. I was the person begging someone to not use the last of their money on moon tourism and getting mistreated in result.

A very heartbreaking thing in both this scene and the one where Rosa reveals her thoughts about her husband leaving her is that Natsuhi and Rosa decide they are both fundamentally at fault for the errors of the men in their lives. They struggle with men being the ones at fault because they were always taught women were the issue.

Even after revealing to Natsuhi they might lose the literal place where she lives, he refuses to give all the information to her, fuck you Krauss.

Natsuhi is letting him off as something he couldn't have predicted but he literally could. He knew Kinzo was dying. Man is old.

Natsuhi I think it's more productive if you take these thoughts of self-blame and put them into murdering Krauss.

"Had become" as opposed to choosing to.... can't bury your true thoughts that deep I guess. Also stop demonizing yourself, does are completely fair thoughts not dark at all!

this kind of would have actually worked, which is funny with how desperate he is being. I mean, it might get complicated with Sayo, but.

I don't remember if it was Beatrice or who that said Natsuhi had no propensity for magic but they were so very wrong. Natsuhi is the Witch of Rebirth, a witch who can change someone's soul into whatever form she desires (in her head).

Natsuhi can't admit that Kinzo and Krauss are bad husbands because that would make her a bad wife.... Kinzo can, though.

Again, Natsuhi is very attuned to magic.... I might be delusional but I think Sayo and Natsuhi could have gotten along, if things were different.

It's interesting how fantasy Kinzo has said this for both Natsuhi and Kyrie. I don't think Kyrie is as desperate to be acknowledged for her efforts as Natsuhi is, but, it does show a certain discomfort about how the men in their lives control them, I think.

I can't help at magic being used this shamelessly, lol. Genji probably went to consult with Sayo right away about this lol. Kumasawa and Nanjo probably feel conflicted enough about Kinzo to just take the money without much guilt.

This scene shows us Kanon and Shannon were told I guess, Natsuhi doesn't really like them so I guess she just felt obligated to do that, though. With them being one winged servants and all.

It is kind of sad that it sees that Kinzo's wife only really exists in Natsuhi's world.... because she can relate to her. And with all the info we have, relating to her isn't exactly a sign of happiness.

.....well. You sure did know her when Beatrice was young but not vice versa I guess.

This is an answer arc, as you can tell by the game handing you answers. Thanks Lambdadelta for magic 101! You can tell killing Beatrice has made Battler do his homework, too. He's come a long way between episodes.

Battler is kind of smugly going "Heh, your easy mystery gave me answers" and it's like.... yes. That's what she is trying to do in fact Battler! It's really obvious in reply that it's really just Bern, not Lambda, that fucking hates Beato.

Lambda's not really wrong here, even if she's coming more from the angle that "anything fictional is a waste of time", which is wrong obviously.

....And the one pointing out this way of fighting is hurting Beato is Lambdadelta, again. It's really obvious she is partial to Beatrice, in her own way.

"Kumasawa, you really are quite an actress. All that panic in the corridor made it seem like Father really was there." Again, this is an answer arc. Where else has Kumasawa shown weird, overreacting terror?

#umiepisode5 #umineko

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inkwell-and-dagger · 8 months

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[Forsaken Souls: Escape]

A/N: if you didn't already know, there's new Forsaken Souls lore!! this is solely for Rayan now officially being in his Recovery Arc™, also referencing the new Survivors member, Ivy Xiomara!! also Vantè and Vesker belong to @paranoia-exe!!!

CW: successful escape attempts, mention of blood / wounds, homelessness, stealing / shoplifting uhh you know the spiel, kinda manipulation, brief mention of starvation and dehydration

DYNAMICS:

The Survivors (Foster (they/them), Esrana (she/her), Ezra (he/xem/they), Madir (he/him)) — Whumper(s)

Zayn (he/they), Ivy (she/he/they/xir) — Past Caretaker + Carewhumper

Rayan (he/it) — Immortal Whumpee

—> —> —> —> —> —>

Rayan had finally done it. Escaped. He ran, and ran, and ran, and as much as he knew freedom was finally his to take, a lingering and barely coherent thought in the back of his mind told him that they'd still come after him. They always do.

He wasn't thinking; he should've gone back to Maddie's, or— or at least Vantè's or Vesk's, Hell, he should've gone straight to the hospital for all the wounds that hadn't had time to properly heal over. But he knew they would eventually. They had to — otherwise, well... Rayan was fucked.

So, he ran past Madison's house, didn't even think to go to Vantè's or Vesker's either. He didn't even consider going to the hospital. Ignoring the looks people would give him as he stumbled and hurried past; he knew that seeing a dishevelled 35 year old man, blood coating his clothes, running down the street was not exactly a normal sight anyway.

He didn't know where he was when he finally stopped. Everything was so... new. So bright, so happy. Rayan didn't like it; it was overwhelming. But he was too exhausted to go further away.

-> -> -> -> → -> -> -> -> → -> -> -> -> → -> -> -> -> → -> -> ->

He spent weeks there. Weeks, hiding in whatever alleyways he deemed safe enough, or sometimes a more friendly stranger would pass and offer him a bed to sleep in for that night or a good meal or two and a shower. Rayan would accept out of pure politeness, but would always get out before the stranger had woken up the next day.

He had learnt a lot of things. One of them being that The Survivors — even mentioning the group name made him shudder — had been arrested after Zayn had called the cops on them. Good for him. However, the fact that, somehow, Esrana had escaped the police with Zayn in tow was unnerving. He should've listened to that thought in the background of the incoherent rambles going on in his mind. He should have gone back, and accepted the fact that there? There, he will be the safest from harm, because harm was right above him. Right above him, above the basement he'd grown so used to. In the handles of the knives displayed in the basement, in the discarded bloodied gloves, in the rope used to bind him if he got too squirmy. Right there, they made him believe he was safe.

Another thing being that he was finally labelled as a missing person. He wondered why the few people who had taken him in for a night or two hadn't recognized him as that man. But, he couldn't blame them; even when he looked in the mirror, he didn't recognize the sunken, tired eyes staring back at him. The trembling in his legs when he was to stand was somehow foreign to him, the shaking of his hands holding packs of cigarettes and what little food he could properly find in his exhausted daze. But even then, he somehow remained starved, his throat remained dry and oh god it hurt to move so so much why couldn't he just die like a normal perso—

He heard voices. Synchronized footsteps, no doubt going to pass him in a couple moments.

"I— I dunno, mum..."

A sigh. "...Have some hope, Vee. Please, we— we can't give up on him."

"I'm just— I'm sore, 'nd hungry, I— I dunno"

"We can stop by the nearest store soon and get some rest and something to eat, okay? Just— he can't be dead, obviously—"

Rayan instinctively hissed at them as the figures passed, the noise sounding hoarse in his throat. He clutched his pack of cigarettes tighter, fumbling for a lighter; he'd sworn he had it on him. He recognized those voices. And the silhouettes...

One of them took a step back. Long, blonde hair, bright blue eyes, sharp horns and a tail to match... "Forget I said anything." And... that voice. Irish? Most likely.

The other voice was Irish too, with an accent the exact same to his. Shoulder length brown hair, glasses, uhm...

It took him a moment to finally understand. Vantè and Madison.

Madison's face lit up, meanwhile Vantè held hesitant uncertainty in his expression.

"...Ray!"

—> —> —> —> —> —>

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