#]: An unexpected encounter

[2headedboi]

got whiplash walking into the train station book store today

[justafrogandherumbrella]

Welcome to Nowhere: An Unexpected Encounter

The silhouette turns out to be, indeed, a playground. Unfortunately, it’s rather run down. Bright purple paint chips lay scattered among the wood shavings on the ground, and any paint still attached to the metal bars of the jungle gym is slowly but surely peeling away, revealing the rusting metal underneath. The swings, too, are falling apart. Several of them are abandoned in the dirt, no longer attached to anything. Others are missing a chain— or a seat. The sandbox, too, is damaged. Its wooden walls are rotting away and slowly collapsing beneath the weight of which it contains. However, these items are all disconnected from the rest of the playground, which seems to be in perfect condition. Interesting. 

Intrigued by its difference from the other equipment, you approach the playground’s main structure. Here, the violet paint is still very much intact; it even appears to shimmer when the sunlight hits it just right. You take hold of one of the metal bars, placing your feet on a strange squiggle-bar-thing in order to get on top. The playground’s “floors” are made of a mustard-yellow plastic, which, much like the rest of your surroundings, is damp. It seems sturdy enough. 

A small droplet of water hits your face, and then another. It seems as though it is beginning to rain. You don’t mind sitting out in a light rain, but soon the droplets become heavier and fall faster.  If you stay out for much longer, you’ll become soaked— not to mention frozen. 

Unfortunately, there aren’t many places to go for shelter. There are no trees—- just the endless, empty field. Going under the playground wouldn’t help much either, since the yellow plastic floors have a ridiculous amount of circular holes in them. There is one place that provides ample protection from the weather; the large, plastic, yellow tube-slide. After you are momentarily blinded by a bright flash, which is followed by the loud crash of thunder, you decide that you should wait out the storm. 

You rush to the slide, already wet from the rain. The raindrops seem louder inside the slide, hitting its ceiling with loud thwaps. Careful as to not slide down and away from your shelter, you brace your palms against the plastic walls, holding you in place. 

After taking a moment to adjust to your new situation, it occurs to you that a storm as sudden as this could be considered odd. At least, you think so. Or maybe not? You can’t remember the last time you’d been caught in a storm. Perhaps you never have been— oh, but you must have! This situation is far too familiar— nostalgic, even— for it never to have occurred before. 

In your brief moment of distraction, your hands slip from their place on the wall of the slide. Normally, you would have been able to catch yourself but given your current drenched state, you end up slipping even more, and you start to descend. You don’t slide very far though. You feel yourself turn a corner, and then are suddenly stopped by something— no— someone blocking the path. 

“Ouch!” They shout as your feet hit their back, causing them to move forward slightly. 

The person, whoever they may be, is… unusually soft. When you had hit them, you’d felt their skin… you don’t know… ripple a little beneath their sweater. You hope they aren’t hurt. 

There isn’t much room for the dark shadow in front of you to move, but they somehow manage to turn around to face you, allowing you to see their face. 

A sudden feeling of dread washes over you. This “person” isn’t human. They may have a human body shape, but their flesh is gooey and dripping with mucus. They don’t have a nose, eyes, ears, or a mouth. Instead of a face, they have small, yellow bumps on their skin, and a pair of antennae reaching from the top of their head. 

They’re a slug. No… not quite— but they certainly aren’t human either. What they are is some sort of strange, horrifying amalgamation of both. 

“Uhm… hello?” The creature says softly. “Are you alright?”

You stay silent for a moment, sitting in your dread. However, despite the horrid, uncanny feeling you get when you look at them, it doesn’t take you very long to question why their appearance evokes such an emotion. They don’t necessarily look bad, just… unusual. They— wait— had they asked you something just now?

“Sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling ashamed by your reaction to them. “I can’t quite hear you.”

“O-oh! Right!” The slug-person-thing says, their… cheeks? They don’t really have cheeks, but perhaps that is the best way to describe their non-features. Their cheeks flush a slight green. 

“Sorry,” they say. “I’ll speak louder. I was asking you if you’re okay?”

“Oh! Yeah, I’m totally fine— what about you? You were the one who got hit…”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” they say, rubbing the spot on their back where you had crashed. “Just a little bruised is all— but totally fine.”

“I’m really sorry about that by the way,” you say earnestly, still struggling to squash the feeling of disgust you unexplainably hold towards this… being.

“No worries…” they trail off, leaving the two of you to sit in an awkward silence. 

It’s now that you notice their sweater. It’s far too large for them, covering near half of their legs and leaving large floppy sleeves well past their hands. That’s not what’s interesting about it though. It’s made of dozens of sewn-together patches— appearing to be handmade. You notice embroidered toadstools on one patch, and a smiley face on the other. 

“I like your sweater by the way,” you say, trying to fill the silence. 

“Huh? Oh! Thank you so much!” Their voice sounds both cheery and proud, though their expression is unreadable. “I made it myself!”

“That’s cool,” you say, which is followed by another awkward moment of silence. “So, are you here to shelter from the storm too?”

“I mean, yeah? But I’m not just here to protect myself from the rain, I quite like the rain actually. I actually— uhm— kinda live here.”

“You live here,” you repeat, astonished. “In the slide?”

They explain, “Well, uhm, I sleep in the slide, but when I’m awake I choose to be outdoors for the most part.  It’s not that big of a deal really…”

You’re pretty sure it actually is a big deal, but you can’t think of a reason why it would be, so you decide not to worry about it.

Beside you, the slug-person lets out an awkward giggle. “I just realized we never introduced ourselves. Uhm— I’m Emerson, he/they.” He paused for a moment, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“I—” you hesitate, searching for something, anything to say… but you have nothing. You don’t even know your own name. 

Who are you?

[missedmilemarkers]

What a jerk!

[sweetfashionistas-blog]

Souls Reunited

Summary: Muzan Kibutsuji, wandering through modern Tokyo, encounters someone who looks identical to his childhood friend. They share a deep conversation about life, connection, and reincarnation, leaving Muzan feeling a rare sense of hope and a flicker of his lost humanity.

In the heart of Tokyo, amid the hustle and bustle of the modern age, Muzan Kibutsuji went unnoticed. His piercing eyes scanned the vibrant city, a place where centuries of change had failed to erase his memories. He moved through the crowd with a silent grace, every step a reminder of his eternal curse.

As he turned into a quieter street, Muzan's senses sharpened. A scent familiar, and nostalgic wafted through the air. It was a scent he hadn't encountered for centuries, one that transported him back to his childhood, before the darkness had claimed him. His eyes narrowed, and he followed the trail with curiosity he rarely allowed himself to feel.

In a small cafe, the source of the scent sat alone, reading a book. Muzan approached cautiously, his heart, long thought dead, betraying a flutter of emotion. When the person looked up, their eyes met his, and Muzan felt a jolt of recognition. It was impossible, yet undeniable-those eyes were identical to those of his childhood friend.

They exchanged polite smiles, and Muzan, driven by a rare impulse, decided to sit down. "Do I know you?" He asked, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of genuine wonder.

The person tilted their head, studying him. "I don't think so. But you seem familiar too." Their voice was soft and gentle, and it struck a chord deep within Muzan.

He couldn't help but be drawn into a conversation. They talked about mundane things, books, the weather, and the city's ever-changing landscape. But for Muzan, every word, every glance, was a trip down memory lane. He remembered his childhood friend, the laughter, the innocence, the days before his life had taken a dark turn.

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" Muzan asked, his tone almost whimsical.

The person smiled, a twinkle in their eye. "I like to think that souls find each other again, across time and space."

Muzan felt a rare pang of emotion-hope perhaps? Or maybe it was the ghost of his long-lost humanity. He nodded slowly, letting their words sink in. "Maybe you're right." He said, almost to himself.

As the conversation wound down, Muzan realized he had to leave. The sun was setting, and his true nature would soon resurface. He stood up, feeling a strange reluctance to part ways.

"Perhaps we'll meet again," the person said with a warm smile, and Muzan, for once in his eternal life, wished for the same.

He walked away, blending back into the shadows of the city. But for the first time in centuries, he felt a flicker of something other than darkness-a fleeting sense of connection to his forgotten humanity. And as he disappeared into the night, he couldn't help but hope that souls truly did find each other, again and again.

[pratchettquotes]

"Fascinatin'," said Ridcully. "Sapient pearwood, eh?" He knelt down in an effort to see underneath.

The Luggage backed away. It was used to terror, horror, fear, and panic. It had seldom encountered interest before.

Terry Pratchett, Interesting Times

[roennq]

Moments: 7/x Matt (inadvertently) comes face to face with Wilson Fisk ↪ "I don't believe you went to see this woman for insight into how to kill a man. I think… maybe you went looking for a reason not to."

[ahsokathegray]

Rain Over Me

Pairing: Rexsoka

Prompt: Rexsoka Monthly Dec. ‘23 - Unexpected Encounters

Summary: When it rains, it pours. At least, that’s how Rex had always heard it. But he soon finds even the most dreadful of rains give life back to that which lacks it.

Tags: angst, bittersweet, rainy confessions, lost without each other, established relationship, post bad batch

Word Count: 3,426

A/N: this was just an excuse to write sad, lonely Rex with a reunion in the rain and I’m only somewhat sorry (@rexsoka-monthly)

read on ao3! / masterlist

The wood on the dusty, old shack was darker now with the onslaught of rain. Its months dry boards drank in the water and was hydrated once more, appearing to be in its prime again if only until the rain cleared. In more ways than one, it had been a dreary summer and the rain was much needed.

Rex had grown fond of the little restaurant — if one could call it that.

It wasn’t kept up to standards, he was most certain. He’d only seen someone sweep the place once. It was a sad little place, but comforting in its own right. The only faces that were constant here were those of the owner or the employees. Rex never saw anyone else twice.

Maybe he saw a bit of himself in the old shack — weary, unkempt, a stranger to itself, lacking energy.

He wasn’t an old man, no, the cure had stopped all that. But he did feel like it, and he’d always look older than his true age. Seventeen years of life didn’t reflect what he felt in his joints, what he recalled in his mind, what was on his false chain code, and what he saw when he looked back at himself in the mirror.

Yeah. Like the shack in the rain, he felt he was falsely young in appearance. It felt wrong not to age so quickly anymore, even though it was the most normal part of human life.

Rex carded a few fingers through his short, blonde curls, wicked the rain off his coat, and ascended the creaky steps. He took a menu, even though he knew he’d order the same thing as always, and seated himself at his usual booth.

The owner, who was old, wordlessly brought him a steaming cup of caf.

“I see we are past the point of asking now,” Rex observed, a corner of his mouth turning up.

A raspy laugh filled the stale, humid air, “What can I say? You’re my favorite regular, Rex!”

The other corner of Rex’s mouth raised, “I’m your only regular, Mr. Kip.”

“And a damn good tipper too,” the Ithorian man smiled, winking before walking back into the kitchen.

Well, he had nothing else to spend his credits on.

Rex scanned the menu items as if he didn’t already have the selections memorized. Even the daily special was the same every single day. Nothing changed and he found he had no qualms about that. After years of unpredictability and pushing his body, mind, and heart to their limits of strain, he found peace in the monotony of routine.

After much deliberation, Rex settled on the Single Sun Breakfast to no surprise. He half expected his meal to be brought out without confirmation, but old Kip stopped back by to make sure anyway.

He could get used to it — the not talking. It was rare he did much of it anyway these days, what with living alone. And, truly, he did enjoy the company of the staff, but the more minimal the interactions the better. Getting attached to people was a flaw he would never risk again. Losing so many loved ones in such a small frame of time would prompt anyone to make such vows.

Rex very much hoped there was a version of himself out there that hadn’t sworn it off, that he was happy and surrounded by those he held dear.

His fork was turned around in his fingers as he tried to ignore the fact he’d finally acknowledged that he was unhappy. It had been that way for years now and it was difficult to revisit the last time the opposite had been true.

It had been warm on Mandalore, when rumors of the war ending sparked hope rather than memories of almost; when battle felt good and he felt invincible and life had been first punctuated by something like love and a woman like her.

Squeezing the cutlery, he set it back down and threaded his fingers together, glancing out the condensating window instead.

Rain came down violently onto the flora just outside the establishment, but pattered softly on the windowsill. Every now and then, a drop found its way inside, or perhaps it was the water droplets still clinging to his hair. Oh, if that illustrious Captain could see him now. That version of himself would disapprove immensely of so many things — but his hair would be at the top of the list.

He did not wish to remind himself of what came second and was thankful when he spotted his plate emerging from the kitchen. His breakfast was brought out with little fanfare and looked as if always did. This pleased him.

As he ate, he thought of what he needed to get done in the upcoming week. He needed to give the old Y-wing a fresh coat of paint; the Republic and medic insignias were becoming visible again, as well as a damning shade of blue. The hole in the roof of his tiny home needed to be patched still. He kicked himself for not doing it sooner and added purchasing a bucket to his growing list.

Something like a laugh escaped him around a bite of rolled omelette, thinking about his helmet being used to collect water from a roof leak. It was when his head lifted up to do this that he saw a pair on montrals facing away from him, seated at a booth closer to the door.

There was a tightening in his lungs and the gaping hole in his heart was reopened; discarded of anything he’d ever used to cover it with. Rex swallowed hard and placed his head in his hands, counting as he regulated his breathing.

This happened every time he thought he saw her.

And, without fail, it was never her.

He ought to have internalized that by now. It had just been so long since the last time he mistook someone else for her. Lone Togrutas were not a sight seen often; they didn’t tend to stray very far from Kiros or Shili.

Rex wished that wasn't the case.

Seeing them more often might’ve kicked this fool’s hope earlier — the one that bubbled up violently inside him whenever he caught a glimpse of three lekku rather than the usual two or, like today, a set of montrals.

They were femininely shaped and blue, just like he knew hers to be, which didn’t help matters.

Getting up from the table to visit the refresher solely to see if it was her was something he was not going to let himself do. He had to get over this. He couldn’t let it control the trajectory of his day each time it happened.

Exhaling and centering himself, Rex finished his meal with a difficulty that hadn’t been present before and told himself his appetite was still there even though that was far from the case. Memories of similar breakfasts in similar restaurants with her bullied their way to the forefront of his mind. Small bouquets of freshly plucked flowers, dirt still clinging to them, being given to her and then placed in a cup of water from wherever they’d been eating.

Rex couldn’t help himself.

Once his plate was clear, he looked across the six booths that separated them. But the woman’s montrals were nowhere to be seen. Rex waited a little longer to see if she was just leaning down looking over a menu or taking a bite of food, but the montrals did not reappear.

Panic swept through him, his veins turning into hot plasma underneath his skin.

He rose promptly from his booth, eyes glued to the one she’d been at. Only a half finished mug of tea sat on the table. She never did like caf. His heart rate shifted into high gear and he made a beeline for the register, already fishing around in his pocket for credits, his fingers shaking.

“Oh, there’ll be no need today,” Kip said with a particularly pleased smile.

The hand in Rex’s pocket stilled and his heart leapt into his throat. “What do you mean?” His voice rattled as he spoke.

“Why, the young lady who just left covered your meal. Said to thank you for your service,” The Ithorian pointed to the entrance as the door slid closed.

For the first time in a long time, the world around Rex melted away and began to slow. Everything became muffled. The credit chits he had in his hand were placed onto the counter despite what the owner had just told him and before he could even tell them to do so, his feet were carrying him to the exit.

“Rex, what do you want me to do with this?”

“I don’t care,” he answered without looking back. “Pay it forward.”

Thick sheets of rain now came from the sky, pouring down so heavily that the world around him had turned white. The clouds flickered and thunder sounded, accompanied by angry strikes of lightning. Any footprints that might’ve been left behind in the mud had been washed away as quickly as they were made.

Whoever she was… she was gone.

A hand was clapped to his shoulder but Rex didn’t look down.

Kip sounded confused yet sympathetic. “She’s not gettin’ away in that, if that’s what you’re thinking.” The old man paused. “If you’re after her, I reckon’ she’ll be back again tomorrow.”

The hand was removed and Kip walked away, but Rex stayed frozen in the doorway. If it was her, he was doubtful she’d be back for breakfast the following morning. She could get away even in the most hopeless conditions.

Rex clenched his teeth, pulled his raincoat tighter and set out anyway.

It was like he hadn’t been living on Dantooine for the past year and a half. He was directionless, as if all the memorized paths, landmarks, and shops had been washed away with the rain. There was no departing vehicle, no lights, and no indicator of where the woman had gone.

Defeated, Rex looked up into the sky with his eyes closed, letting the rain fall over his face and streak through his hair. His chest had knotted itself and his knees threatened to buckle under the torrential downpour.

But Rex stood firmly, shoved his hands into his pockets, and let the rain soak him to the bone as he walked towards the small town.

He spent the remainder of his morning stopping by every establishment there was until the shopkeepers started closing up due to weather. The folks he did manage to speak with hadn’t seen her and each tried to hand him an umbrella or invite him inside until the storm passed.

He declined.

Straggling passersby still caught in the rain gave him funny looks as they ran to get to cover. Rex was in no such hurry.

The overgrown road that led to his tiny home was taken in the shortest possible strides. He did not wish to return there, especially not to a datapad he knew would have no messages on it. He had half a mind to turn back to the restaurant if he didn’t think they’d already closed up like everyone else.

Rex stepped into his home and was greeted by the sound of dripping water. He sighed deeply, unmoving in the doorway until he could suppress the viscous tears that taunted him behind closed lids. Once they were managed, his boots and raincoat were discarded, the mess from the leak was mopped, and his helmet was removed from its place under the bed to sit and collect the intruding water.

He watched the rain fill his bucket until it went past the visor before he fell into the awaiting embrace of sleep that was always there to help temporarily subside the pain.

More than anything, Rex wished he could say that he hadn’t woken up early, that he hadn’t gotten up before the neighbor’s nunas began to stir. He wished he could say it wasn’t in his plans to go sit up at the restaurant and wait all day to see if the woman turned up.

Really, he should be using his time to buy paint for his ship as well as a proper bucket for the leak, but neither of those things seemed to matter much at the prospect of running into her.

It was pathetic. He knew that.

He could’ve just saved himself all this trouble if he’d gotten up and used something as an excuse to see her face. But no, Rex chose to be strong when it mattered the absolute least.

His thin blanket felt as though it weighed ten tons when he rose out of bed, dreading vehemently the idea of waiting around all day for nothing — dreading the pit in his stomach he knew all too well when it wasn’t her after all and just some stranger. Rex’s feet hit the worn wooden floor and he rubbed his bleary eyes, aiming first for the refresher and then for his helmet.

A considerable amount of rainwater had been collected in the makeshift-not-makeshift bucket and more was being added still. The rain had yet to cease but it had slowed a great deal. He picked it up carefully and walked it to the door, yawning as he did so. Soft sheets of rain greeted his bare feet as the door slid aside, coming down now in a gentle shower-like way as opposed to yesterday’s storm.

Rex decided that when the rain stopped, he’d call it. He’d tie his mood to it, give himself an allotted period of time to feel this incessant pain before forcing it down again.

He swung his helmet to the left and watched as the water landed on his long-dead flowers, before looking out at the state of the rest of his yard.

The helmet nearly fell from his hands.

A hooded figure was inspecting his ship, an orange hand running across a partially revealed red sigil and skirting across blue paint. Any fleeting thoughts of making a grab for his blasters vanished. Rex knew that hand better than either of his own.

She turned and lifted slightly the hood of her cloak to get a better look at him.

There she was. Then she was as if no time at all had passed. As if she’d been down the road all along.

Ahsoka was dressed in that gray cloak he knew well, with lekku he used to know but that were now nearing her waist. Her montrals were taller than they were last time. He wondered if they’d be eye to eye this time, and if looking her in the eyes would still feel the same as it always did, as he wanted it to — needed it to.

Even from this distance, he could see her bottom lip quiver.

“I had to be sure,” she called out over the rain.

Rex struggled to speak, suffering from having too many words in his mouth and yet not at all.

She glanced back at the Y-wing behind her and ran a hand over the chipped paint job, revealing a bit more of that 501st blue.

“I knew your face as soon as I walked into the restaurant yesterday, but I wasn’t certain that it was the one… that it was the one I had loved,” she continued.

He joined her in the rain now. It was cold on his bare shoulders and worse as it streaked down his torso, but he didn’t shiver, nor did he care he’d be tracking yet more water inside. Rex’s chest tightened and his mouth dried. “Loved? As in the past tense?” he called, water beading on his hair and lashes. Not all of it was from the rain.

Ahsoka shook her head, droplets running off her lekku.

The pause between them was occupied by the steady fall of rain.

“You know the worst thing about love?” he asked.

She nodded, looking briefly at her feet, “That you remember it.”

Rex’s tongue pressed into his cheek and he nodded with her, “I knew from the moment we parted the first time that I’d spend a lifetime missing you.” He waited a bit. “It’s proved true so far. Each time it gets worse.”

He couldn’t tell her tears from the rain, but knew that she was crying. Rex was always aware that it hadn’t ever hurt any less for her. “I never intended it to be that way,” she called.

“I know.”

She stepped closer, weighing her words. “Rex, the hardest thing I’ve ever done is walk away still madly in love with you. There’s not a minute that goes by that I don’t regret it — that I don’t sit and wonder about what you do each day.”

“Well currently, it’s wishing I’d gotten up as soon as I saw you sitting at that booth. I’d know your montrals anywhere. Convinced myself it wasn’t you.”

“And before that?”

“Wishing I never let you say goodbye.”

She swallowed hard. “I have a lot to make up for. I know that. And I know this doesn’t begin to cover it, but do you think I could start with breakfast?” she asked, holding up the takeaway box that was under her cloak. “Mr. Kip told me where I could find you, said you ran out after me.”

Rex couldn’t suppress his smile. “No. Breakfast was covered yesterday. I think you’ll have to get more creative than that today.”

Ahsoka laughed and bit her lip, her eyes overcome with emotion. Shaking his head, Rex dropped his helmet into the flowerbed and all but ran to her, holding her trembling frame to him with possibly too much strength. The box fell. Her arms wrapped under his and he found that she fit better than she ever used to. He removed her hood with desperation and his chin fell into place between her montrals, still having at least one head in height over her. Rex kissed repeatedly the space between her uppermost chevrons as the sobs took control of her body.

The rain slowed to a drizzle and, as he’d vowed earlier, his mood lifted with it. Morning rays peeked out at them from behind the trees, warming their skin.

Being with Ahsoka was like walking into the sun, like walking directly into sunlight after the longest winter.

She pulled away first, though by the look on her face, it seemed to be the last thing she wanted to do. Her eyes were glued to the mangled scar on his chest, momentarily ashamed of looking him in the face.

But Rex’s hand slid under her jaw and moved her to look up at him. “I can’t think of anything better than breakfast with you. We’ve suffered enough, Ahsoka. Come inside. Stay with me until we have no choice but to leave; and even then, stay with me until there are no more planets left to run to. Let’s have breakfast together for as long as this life allows us because life without you is no way to live.”

“I haven’t had breakfast in a year and a half,” she said, tears streaking her cheeks.

Rex wiped them away. “You’re not missing out. It doesn’t taste the same when we aren’t together.”

Ahsoka eyed the slightly crumpled box of food on the ground and Rex picked it up, popping it back into its correct shape and wicking the water from it.

Apologies tumbled from her lips, but Rex wouldn’t hear any of it. She’d fought and offered her aid to the Rebellion until she couldn’t any more; until she was sure they could manage without her and that Rex wouldn’t die if she came home. It was the type of thing he had long since accepted — back when it had been cold on that moon, when rumors of another war began, and battle no longer felt good and he no longer felt invincible unless he was with her. Only one thing stayed the same. Life had still been punctuated with something far greater than love and a woman named Ahsoka.

His eyes did all the asking as he leaned in close. Ahsoka gave the faintest of nods, allowing him to kiss away her apologies; first slowly and then with an energized passion only she could provoke.

And just as he hoped they would, Ahsoka’s fingers found his curls, and he carried her and their very cold breakfast inside, leaving his helmet to become the home for several long years of blossoming flowers.

[therabbitbehindtheslaughter]

An Unexpected Encounter

William Afton has been missing for quite a while now. Many wonder what happened to him, where he went, why he disappeared in the first place. It's unusual, after all, for a man so well renown for his work to just vanish in such a way.

Rumors spread about the town, many theories and stories that none of the people seem to be able to fully agree on. Some say he died, like many who disappear or go missing. Some say he's locked up somewhere. Various, wild stories that were hardly true.

The truth was, he was trapped.

Was being the key word.

Or is it?

Since the day he was found by the idiots who run Fazbear's Fright, he had managed to gain some freedom. Some. He was still trapped however. Trapped within this filthy, decrypt maze. Trapped in this mockery of his own and Henry's work.

He hated it.

The tattered rabbit growled as he stared out the window that mockingly showed the outside world. Or what he could see of the window. The window had these metal bars up, something to keep thieves and burglars away they claim. Part of him thinks they purposely made this place to be a prison for him. How convenient that the doors won't budge for him but open so easily for them and how convenient it is that they barricade the one way he could easily escape from with more metal to hold him back.

He glared at the smudged view of the outside before he tried to pull at the bars, deeply growling as the bar bends, but not enough for his arm to get through to the other side. The tattered rabbit letting out a deep grunt as he slammed heavily off of the bars, causing one to smash into the window and crack it.

A rattling breath left him as he stared at the bars for a moment before angrily lumbering off into the maze as the sun began to set.

@immortalitythroughdeath

[herbalnature]

A majestic mushroom stands tall in this spontaneous snapshot, its gills finely detailed like delicate etchings on the underside. A surprise guest, a dark slug, adds an unexpected twist to this charming woodland scene.

[sluggoonthestreet]

It wasn’t part of the plan when he got up this morning, but Alan feels like this worm really gets him.

[minweber]

One way in which, I think, BG3 succeeds in emulating tabletop DND experience - though, admittedly, It may be more of an achievement of its writing rather than game design - is sending player characters down unexpected development paths.

My favorite ttrpg experience have always been the moments when you realize that through the interaction between other players' actions, your own choices and the ongoing story, your character has now developed traits that you did not originally intend for them to have.

Those really are fascinating moments, ones that have always been difficult to explain to people who never experienced them - even though the mechanic between them is very simple and non-mystical. Something happened that you did not expect, and you react in the ways you may not have expected either! It's trivial, but the result is quite magical - when you see a character escape beyond your full control, becoming something onto themselves and making you not the sole master of their story.

Anyway, shoutout to my first BG3 playthrough, where my hoity-toity noble paladin - who had a whole dramatic arc from the stock of "difficult relationship with a position of leadership that awaits him in a distant homeland" set up for him - awkwardly confessed to Karlach, got politely rejected, went off to sulk, had Lae'zel come onto him, apathetically agreed and then proceeded to have his brains fucked out so hard that it completely changed the direction of his story and had him fighting on the frontlines of a space revolution not even a full month after.

[missedmilemarkers]

[anotherworldash]

In every universe you'll be admiring our eyes...

[hazelpuff]

Sisters Aretha & Olivia Baker opened a dun dun dunn...BAKERY! (Including some shots from light-hearted conversations they had with Mirabelle and Eleanor. I was excited that those two showed up - I wanted them to get along really well (and also I was planning for Mirabelle to get hired here - I guess she took this matter into her own hands by showing up on the lot before I could even try to arrange a meeting with her and Aretha).

[rexsoka-monthly]

December is here at last!

We also have a special holiday themed prompt for this month!

Quick reminders:

Any type of content is welcomed. This includes fanfic, fanart, video edits, gifs, photo manips, crafts, etc. If Rexsoka inspires you to make it, we’d love to see it!

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No underage Rexsoka, unless it’s platonic. This means no content where Rex is an adult and he is sexually attracted to Ahsoka when she is a minor. Unless their ages are adjusted, no explicit romantic content before season 7. Pre-relationship fluff and Ahsoka having a baby crush are acceptable.

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[catboygirljoker]

when you think about being possessed by someone is extremely intimate and pretty hot actually which is to say I'd let Luxu in my body in more ways than one or. Uh. What am I sayinmg

anon you are sofucking valid & true. i absolutely love parasite x host/possessor x possessee dynamics. come to think of it the only two fics ive posted on ao3 are parasite x host fics lmao (an unfinished cyberpunk 2077 silverV fic and a very short malevolent podcast jarthur fic) and if the venom movies were like...50% better i absolutely wouldve fixated on them at some point. its just a Really Fucking Good Dynamic