#*[ DASH GAMES ] . . . street smarts

[heartsbreaking]

NICO'S COMFORT LIST

Comfort food(s): tacos, chicken noodle soup, chicken pot pie, thin mints

Comfort drink(s): peppermint tea, english breakfast tea, coffee, dr. pepper

Comfort movie(s): 10 things i hate about you, spiderman: homecoming, hercules

Comfort show(s): teen wolf, daredevil, game of thrones

Comfort clothing: hoodies, my inside sweatpants, stupid urban outfitters stretchy shirts (you know the ones)

Comfort song(s): entire am album

Comfort book(s): percy jackson & the olympians series, the great gatsby

Comfort game(s): sims 4 and minecraft

tagged by: @awkwardcourage tagging : @fyrewalks , @razorfst , @hookd , @resp0nders + VIEWERS LIKE YOU!

[heartsbreaking-migrated]

NINE TV SHOWS YOU COULD WATCH 500 TIMES

tagged by : @vengefuls tagging: @freakarus , @razorfst , @belovedstars , @livedtough , @fyrewalks + VIEWERS LIKE YOU!

[felassan]

Cliff notes on the new info on Dragon Age: The Veilguard from the print issue of Game Informer (DA:TV spoiler warning for link) that came out the other day (magazine hub link) that contained story spoilers - spoiler free version. This post is a version of this post (DA:TV spoiler warning for link), only with story-related information of note removed.

In CC you can customize things like shoulder width, chest size, glute size, hip width, how bloodshot your eyes are, nose crookedness, and more

There are hundreds of sliders for body proportions

CC detail: “Features like skin hue, tone, melanin”

There is nudity in DA:TV, “which I learned firsthand while customizing my Rook” in CC

Rook’s backstory also affects “reputation standing”, along with the other previously-known things like in-game dialogue etc

Lords of Fortune are pirate-themed, “piratic”

Rook ascends because of competency, not because of a magical McGuffin, contrasting with the ‘destiny-has-chosen you’ angle DA:I has for the Inquisitor

Rook is here because they chose to be, “and that speaks to the kind of character that we’ve built. Someone needs to stop this, and Rook says, ‘I guess that’s me'”

The 4 voices we can choose for Rook each have a pitch shifter in CC

The game starts inside the bar (as previously detailed in other coverage)

In some dialogue wheels there is a “romantically inclined ‘emotional’ response” option. These are the replies that will build relationships with characters, romantic and platonic alike, but you can ignore them if you want to. Giving a companion the cold shoulder might nudge them into another companion’s embrace however

Bellara’s surname is Lutara

In the streets of Minrathous (in the opening segment of the game), there is a wide, winding pathway with a pub which has a dozen NPCs in it (is this The Swan tavern?)

The devs used the DA:TV CC to make each in-world NPC, except for specific characters like companions

There is smart use of verticality, scaling and wayfinding in the gameplay

If you play as e.g. a qunari Rook, the camera adjusts to ensure larger characters like them loom over those below. The camera also adjusts appropriately for dwarves to demonstrate their smaller stature

Neve Gallus is described as being capable

Demons are fully redesigned in this game, on their original premise as creatures of feeling that live and die off the emotions around them. “As such, they are just a floating nervous system, pushed into this world from the Fade, rapidly assembled into bodies out of whatever scraps they find”

Our base in this game is the place where the team bonds, grows, and prepares for its adventures

Clock symbols over dialogue icons signal optional dialogue options

If you are playing, e.g., a qunari, and you encounter elfy stuff, you might be missing unique dialogue options and an elf Rook would have more to say at that point

“There’s a heavy emphasis on storytelling and dialogue, and it feels deep and meaty, like a good fantasy novel. BioWare doesn’t shy away from minutes-long cutscenes”

For Rook, this story is about what does it mean to be a leader? We define their leadership style with our choices. “From the sound of it, my team will react to my chosen leadership style in how my relationships play out.” This is demonstrated within the game’s dialogue and a special relationship meter on each character’s companion screen

In gameplay/combat, players complete every swing in real time. Special care was taken in development for animation swing-through and cancelling. We can dash, parry, charge moves, and a completely revamped healing system that allows us to use potions at our discretion by hitting right on the d-pad. You can combo attacks and even ‘bookmark’ combos with a quick dash, which means that you can pause a combo’s status with a dash to safety and continue the rest of the combo afterward

Abilities can be used to customize your kit. They can be used on the fly as long as you account for cooldowns

When you pause and pull up the ability Wheel, it highlights you and your companions’ skills. There you can choose abilities, queue them, target specific enemies, and strategize with synergies and combos

Each character plays the same in that you execute light and heavy attacks with the same buttons, use abilities with the same buttons, and interact with the combo wheel in the same way, regardless of which class you select

Sword and shield warriors can hip-fire or aim their shield and throw it like Captain America

Warriors can parry incoming attacks which can stagger enemies. Rogues have a larger parry window. The mage the writer played couldn’t parry at all. Instead they throw up a shield that blocks incoming attacks automatically, so long as you have the mana to maintain it

On the start/pause screen: it has the map, journal, character sheets, skill tree, and a library for lore information. You can use it to cross-compare equipment and equip new gear for Rook and their companions, build weapon loadouts for quick change-ups mid-combat, and customize you and your party’s abilities and builds via an easy-to-understand skill tree. There aren’t in-depth minutiae, just "real numbers”. For example, an unlocked trait might increase damage by 25 percent against armor, but that’s as in-depth as the numbers get. Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like a Wall of Fire to your arsenal if you’re a mage. As you spec out this skill tree, which is 100 percent bespoke to each class, you’ll work closer to unlocking a spec, complete with a unique ultimate ability

Combat is flashy and quick, with different types of health bars. Greenish-blue represents a barrier, which is taken down most effectively with ranged attacks

The game is gorgeous, with sprinkles, droplets, and splashes of magic in each attack a mage unleashes

The game looks amazing on consoles both in fidelity and performance modes

Bellara is bubbly, witty, and charming. She is spunky and effervescent, a sweetheart and a nerd for ancient elven artifacts, which is why she’s dressed more like an academic than a combatant

While Neve uses ice magic and can slow time with a special ability, Bellara specializes in electricity, and she can also use magic to heal you. electricity magic is effective against a certain mob type. “However, without Bellara, we could also equip a rune that converts my ice magic, for a brief duration, into electricity to counter the [enemies]”

If you don’t direct your companions in combat, they are fully independent and will attack on their own

The style of the game is more high fantasy than anything in the series thus far and almost reminiscent of the whimsy of Fable. Matt Rhodes says that this is the result of the game’s newfound dose of magic: “The use of magic has been an evolution as the series has gone on. In the past, you could hint at cooler magical things in the corner because you couldn’t actually go there, but now we actually can, and it’s fun to showcase that.” however, areas of whimsy will starkly contrast to the game’s other areas. The devs promise some grim locations and even grimmer story moments because, without that contrast, everything falls flat. Corinne says it’s like a “thread of optimism” pulled through otherworldly chaos ravaging Thedas.

We can advance our bonds with our companions on their own personal quests and by including them in our party on main quests. Every Relationship Level you rank up, shown on their character sheet, nets you a skill point to spend on them. “The choices you make, what you say to companions, how you help them, and more all matter to their development as characters and party members”. Each companion has access to 5 abilities.

Each companion has issues, problems, and personal quests to complete.

You can create Arcane Bombs on enemies. It does high damage after being hit by a heavy attack

It sounds like mage characters can charge heavy attacks on their magical staffs. “then switch to magical daggers in a second loadout accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick attacks”

Some enemies are “Frenzied”, meaning that they hit harder, move faster, and have more health

re: an arena-like boss fight "[it] attacks, hitting hard with unblockable, red-coded attacks and a massive shield that you need to take down first. It is weak to fire"

The design of the game is not open world. The devs describe it as a “hub-and-spoke” design where the needs of the story are served by the level design. it is not a connected open world. locations include Minrathous, tropical beaches, Arlathan Forest, “to grim and gothic areas and elsewhere”. Some of these areas are large and full of secrets and treasures. Others are smaller and more focused on linear storytelling.

Each location has a minimap, though linear levels won’t have the 'fog of war’ that disappears as you explore like in some of the game’s bigger locations

The game has the largest number of diverse biomes in DA history

The Thedas of DA:TV “lives in the uncertainty”. “the mystery of its narrative”, “the implications of its lore”

The writer is surprised by BioWare’s command over the notoriously difficult Frostbite engine, and by how much narrative thought the dev team poured into these characters, even for BioWare.

—

[source: the Game Informer pages from Issue 367 - the cover story from June 18th (link), two] <- DA:TV spoiler warning for links

[ordon-pumpkin]

Percy Jackson spoilers and criticism below.

I see people complain about how the show just has the characters figuring out things way too quickly (I completely agree with this.) Then I see people complaining about that criticism saying things like “Oh it makes sense! They would know that because Annabeth’s been at camp, Grover is a satyr, and Percy’s mom taught him about the myths!” However, there is a difference between them knowing about the stories and them IMMEDIATELY figuring each potential trap/situation out and zapping the energy from the scenes.

These same instances in the book usually involve a feeling of unease, something feels off, things seem kind of familiar, and it slowly dawns on them what they are dealing with OR they are escaping one situation to be thrust into another and don’t have time to think about it at all. There’s tension, there’s drama. I’m here for it. The show on the other hand? Oof.

Also the circumstances in which they encounter these situations in the book greatly influence how things go. They are human(ish) after all and them getting into these messes makes them easier to connect to as characters. Let’s break it down a little more there.

- With Medusa they were lost in the woods and hungry. The smell of food lured them in. They were hungry children dang it! From the circus lol (Honestly, this instance didn’t bother me too much in the show when I first watched it because it was early on before the knowing things too soon became an ongoing theme.)

- With the Lotus Hotel and Casino they were tired and feeling grimy, having just traveled in the back of a truck with a bunch of animals in horrible conditions. It was scorching hot outside. They were absolutely exhausted and wound up there where a doorman invited them in and it was a relief to have somewhere to take a break, recoup and figure out their next move. Once inside they had access to a shower! There were snacks. Plus the place was incredible. It also showed their interests with Annabeth being drawn in to trivia and city building games, Percy liked the bungee jumping! Grover played a reverse hunting game! Percy figured out the trap by asking a guy using 70s slang and dressed to match, what year it was. He kept asking and getting different answers. Then he was able to snap Annabeth out of it by describing spiders, which he knew she had a fear of from the Tunnel of Love ride. (This whole scene in the show was such a let down, so was the Tunnel of Love scene but I’ll leave that alone for now.)

- With Crusty they were on the run and dashed into the store. This encounter is one of my favorite moments of Percy’s quick thinking in the books btw. Also his absolute lack of hesitation to slice someone’s head if they mess with his friends. Percy is smart. He’s very street smart actually. In the book this scene shows that really well. (The way I paused the show in frustration and almost turned it off when the episode started already at Crusty’s with the line “I know who you are.” Like of course. That’s just how we’re telling this story now. Check. They met Crusty. And he doesn’t feel like a threat at all. But they met him I guess.)

The exhaustion and the circumstances in these instances in the book and getting into these traps aren’t the trio being “stupid.” They were moments that set up the situation to feel more relatable, alive, tense, and interesting. The show’s changes have taken away most of the tension from these scenes. Them knowing and catching on to things so quickly is lazy and it is incredibly boring. It just feels like they are checking off a list of places from the books they wanted in the show, while losing the entire energy and impact of those locations and scenes.

To me everything in this show feels like it’s at 20%. The humor, the stakes, the tension, the personality, the freaking lighting (why is so much of this show so hard to even see?), the whimsy, the magic, the charm. It’s all so dialed back and watered down. The book is a roller coaster of making you laugh and putting you on the edge of your seat with the tension and situations these kids get into. It’s campy, it’s intense, it’s crazy, and so energetic. The show feels bland in comparison. Idk how you manage to make Percy Jackson feel boring but they did it.

I’m not asking for it to be an exact copy of the book. I’m just disappointed with how dull it is. When it’s boring and it’s a scene that was the furthest thing from that in the original version then YES I’m going to compare it and wonder why there were changes to make it less interesting. In fact, my favorite scene in the show so far is actually the taxi in the parking garage scene. It captured the energy and vibe of Percy Jackson really well and it’s a scene not in the books at all. The energy is important and this show is lacking severely most of the time. It has some really good moments (back to that 20% thing) but overall it’s such a let down.

We have one episode left of the season and I don’t exactly have high hopes of it making things better. It just makes me sad because I wanted to love this series. The incredibly talented cast, a major studio behind it, passionate people being involved including the author, amazing source material… I look at all of the ingredients and it should be amazing. But I’m pretty disappointed right now.

[circinuus]

Hey !!! I saw ur request open and can i ask an port mafia dazai! X reader where its their first time meeting ? They are 15 and reader is just a highschooler but got in the wrong place at the wrong moment and got attacked by some ennemies but Pm!Dazai saves them? And then he got interest into reader and go to visit him to their highschool and all ^^

dying prohibited!

15! dazai x highschooler! reader. 1.6k words

in which a strange meeting leads to the start of a peculiar friendship, and an odd game of persuasion.

[platonic -> slow burn]

❥ anon I love this scenario so much. tweaked some things but i hope i didn't flunk the execution

There is something unusual about the boy standing in front of you.

He is dressed in a dark trench coat, with an equally dark suit and tie. The bandages he wears are reminiscent of an article about 'eight-grader syndrome' you once read. But the more you look at him with your panic-struck eyes, you worry your judgment is a mere product of parochial thoughts.

"Come now," he steps forward.

"Shoot. Right here. There is nothing worth pursuing at the cost of prolonging this life, anyway."

You should've listened to your parents. Criminals knew how well summer fireworks mask the noise of crime. Now you're stuck in some dark alley with a coward who mugs kids and a suicidal, depressed boy.

"You, brat with the yukata!"

Oh shit. 

"That's a nice looking wear you got there. Bet mommy and daddy got loads of money, huh?"

"Listen, please," you approach him with trembling hands, eyes flitting between the bastard and the poor boy sharing your predicament, "I only have this.."

This is stupid. But it's no time to be a smart coward, either.

Closing the distance, you raise the small pouch you brought to his eye level, and-

Gave the thug a hard kick on the groin. 

It could've been the momentary adrenaline, or the surge of protectiveness you felt for the boy who seemed to lose all hope in living. You didn't miss a beat and hastily grab his frail hand, dashing out from the alley as fast as your sandal-covered soles can afford you to be. 

"Don't say things like that," you pant in between breaths. His wrist felt very thin, and you fear to see what lies under the bandages.

Is he from an abusive household?

"I'm (Name)," you turn to his deep, jet-black irises, "I'll be your friend. We'll be okay." The sight of the increasingly bright street colors your eyes with hope, and your hold tightens in his hand.

"There's still something to look forward to in life! So-"

"Nice try, brat." 

The flickering lights of the festival across the alley slip off your sight, robbed off by rough, burly hands manhandling your small stature like a kid to a ragdoll.

Your heart drops. 

There were two of them.

"Since you both want death so much," another click of a cheap Glock resounds in your ear. "Why don't I just blow off your head right now?"

Shit.

The world spins. Oxygen feels scarce. Fear bites your heart like a rabid beast. You glance at the black-clad boy in desperation, the guy from before already recovering with limping steps; another bullet aimed at the back of the boy's head. But- 

"You're interesting," he smiles at your fear-stricken face.

"The hell is this brat-"

"(Name), was it?" he approaches you, voice incongruously steady among the chaos.

"Close your eyes and make a wish. The fireworks will go off soon." 

"!"

The headlock on your neck tightens and the press of the cold firearm harsher. Before drops of dread-induced tears run down your cheek, loud explosions intruded your senses, littering the sky with miscellaneous bursts of fire flowers. 

Your ears ring, and panic numbed your body. Your eyes flutter close in wishful desperation.

Please make this go away.

You couldn't feel your body, and for the remaining time of the summer explosions, your mind is numbed. 

I don't want to die.

A heavy thud falls behind you, the noise losing against the raging summer festivities. Almost simultaneously, your body feels lighter.

Light, then frigid by your cold sweat. Your eyelids remain still, darkness reigning over your senses. It was a beat after the fireworks cease when swift steps approach you.

"Keep them closed," a pair of hands take hold of you, the edges of fraying bandages brushing against your fingertips as they guide you forward.

"Good job. You can open them now."

As if the curtain calls, everything oxidizes away like a distant dream. In your line of sight was the bandaged kid, the streetlights and the distant buzz of the festival serve as a backdrop for his dark-clad figure.

"I-" a broken sob escapes you, "The police?"

"The police?" he tilts his head.

A beat of silence passed by, until the boy smiles indulgently.

"..Sure. The police found us. Can you believe it? The timing was impeccable."

"Where are they now?" you falter, "Shouldn't anyone be making sure we're safe?-"

"They're taking those criminals away. You're safe now."

You look at him, to his barely shaken voice and eyes, to the frail hands that still hold your wrist. 

Something tells you you shouldn't prod further. 

"Well then!" he steps back with a swish of his coat. "Another suicide attempt thwarted huh? Talk about a time of celebrations.."

"You-"

"Oh, right! You can go back on your own, can you? Don't get yourself lost again. Unless you're really just a dumb dog who needs to be guided on the-"

"A dog?! That's it, enough cutting me off!" 

You eye the bandages that litter his skin, mind flitting to the way he addressed suicide like talking about school holidays, or whatever the hell just happened. Everything about him screams something you shouldn't be involved with. But the alertness, confusion and mild annoyance drain away the moment your mind came to a realization.

He needs help more than you do.

"Are you okay?"

The words slides from your tongue unbidden, and for a second, he looks dumbstruck. 

"I mean!" you flail your arms, "I'm fine. But are you injured? We should call the police back. No, an ambulance! My parents!"

"But, you know.. I was serious about being your friend. You can talk to me about anything if you want! Just don't say such depressing things again.."

The languid summer night air blows, and you're face to face with those jet-black eyes again. A hint of surprise, then something curious.

Has no one ever said that to him before? 

"You are interesting!" a beat passes before he chirps with a sing-song voice, "You're (Name), right? Nice to meet you, new friend." 

"Huh? Oh- Nice to meet you too, er.." 

He smiles a cat-like grin, "You can call me.."

"Dazai!?"

Your second meeting with the bandaged boy was when the early winds of autumn blow away summer heat and its holiday joy; unprecedented all the same. Back then, his dark garments melded flawlessly with the darkness of the deserted alleyway—as flawlessly as how he slipped away before your parents came to you with worried fuss. Now he appears misplaced among the brightly painted walls of your school's cafeteria.

He lounged about like a lethargic cat, uncaring by your friends' inquisitive murmurs before his eyes finally meet yours.

"Yukata looked good on you," he hums, appraising eyes observing your befuddled state. "But you're not half bad in a school uniform too! Maybe try a maid costume next, and-"

As the cafeteria is drowned by the increasing hustle of bustle of recess, you drag dazai away before any teacher or security can ask you why your 'friend' is trespassing on the private school grounds.

"So this is where you go to school," Dazai leans again the scrawny metal fence. You are now nestled in the less crowdy garden behind the class buildings. It was something of a lucky streak how you didn't come across anyone.

"Don't lean on that," slight frown blooms on your face. "What're you doing here anyway?"

He shrugs, "Seeing a friend?"

Huh. okay. But more importantly-

"I don't remember telling you where I-"

"Speaking of!" he cuts you off, "I have something important to talk about."

"Hence!" he suddenly takes your hands, clasping both of them in his, "There's no point in prolonging such a life of suffering! we should just go and die-"

You eye him worriedly.

"On the way, I saw a glimpse of your class. I can't help noticing you all look depressed, like suuper depressed!"

"Dazai!" 

You subtly flinch at how unintentionally loud your voice was, slightly guilty when Dazai looks positively like a perplexed cat. When you feel that surge of protectiveness resurfaces, his expression melts to one of those curious ones he always liked to give you.

Cute. If he hasn't been saying all these extremely concerning things.

"Listen," you give his hands a firm grasp, "I'm not.. good with this kind of talk. But you're not going to die anytime soon."

"Why not?"

"I won't let you."

"Why?"

"Aren't we friends?"

"So?"

You bite your tongue.

"I'll miss you."

The twinge of discomfort was inevitable as you realize how vain and vacuous that sounded. And yet,

"High schoolers are so bold!" his scandalized gasp breaks your worry, "Do you like me?"

"What?" 

"You do! I knew my charm is just irresistible."

Well, he is cute.

"So let's not wait for a second and go die together!-"

But that is the last time you're humoring him.

"Listen," you hold his gaze.

"Friends don't let their friends go on some..suicide," the words roll on your tongue like sour candy.

"And I did say there's more to life to look forward to."

'I can prove it!' you added. But Dazai only sizes you up with that same calculating, appraising eyes.

"Come on, give me a chance?"

A strange meeting leads to a strange reunion. And this small game of persuasion might be the start of your peculiar friendship with the equally strange boy. Perhaps it'll even bloom into something more along the way.

sorry this feels so clunky i gave up editing🤡

♡ @ashthemadwriter

[bodhranwriting]

My Favourite Action Sequence: Tocktick by Bodh M.

I promised you guys this, but one of my favourite action scenes simply because you get so much character development. Who's your favourite?

The night had closed in as he stepped into what was ostensibly the lavatory.

It was an alleyway with some crates tastefully arranged into some modicum of privacy, a small lantern lit over the door. It reeked. Obviously, many of its visitors were beyond aiming once they stumbled onto the scene.

Holding his breath, Sixsmith picked his way to the drain – helpfully labelled in glowing white paint – selected a conveniently eye-level brick to become suddenly fascinated with and proceeded about his business.

Just as he had committed every red crack to memory, something round and very cold pressed against the back of his neck.

He froze.

“Hello, doc. Thought we said not to wander off anymore.”

Fuck.

Somehow, his voice didn’t shake even as his heart landed somewhere around his ankles. “Carter.”

He could picture Carter’s smirk and heard someone else snigger. Two of them then. As much as he had enjoyed it, antagonising the man last night had probably not been one of his better ideas.

Neither was kicking him in the crotch, but he felt that was a crime of which the universe would absolve him.

Carter, however, would not.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“What, right now?”

An awkward almost-silence followed.

“… No, you can finish what you’re doing.”

“Very kind of you.”

The gun at his neck didn’t move an inch. His thoughts raced; plans flicked up like cards in a game and were abandoned just as quickly. If he ran now, they’d catch him. Worse than that, they’d make sure he couldn’t do that again. Fighting wasn’t an option. He’d rather go toe-to-toe with a locomotive.  

He took as much time as he dared, wondering if anyone would hear him if he shouted, wondering how exactly they were planning to get him back to the tavern. If, of course, that was where they were going. They could have shot him in the head and been five streets away by the time the echoes died. There had to be some kind of transport, right? A cart or carriage of some sort – unless they were planning on marching him several streets.

And he wondered why.

Finally, Sixsmith turned around. The gun was so close he had to go cross-eyed to keep it in his vision – a battered-looking thing with a fat bullet chamber and most of the paint scratched off on one side. Carter jabbed it at him while his companion – a stout, grinning man armed with a cutlass who he didn’t know – fished in his pockets for something.

Hesitantly, he raised his hands and tried a smile. “Miss me already?”

The door was less than ten steps away, six or seven at a dash.

But they were going to be faster. Not smarter. Carter was a bully. He thought with his fists.

“Not really,” Carter said coolly, “There’s plenty of sawbones hanging around. Just need to dip into the nearest alley.”

Sixsmith widened his eyes as innocently as he could. “Why don’t you bugger off and do that then?”

The crack of his head striking the wall was gunshot-loud, a white flash blinding him. His legs buckled and the only reason he didn’t fall was the hand around his throat, pinning him against the damp brick. The gun pressed against his cheek.

Sixsmith tried to swallow.  Now was the time for panicking.

“Have you always had a smart mouth?” Carter asked mildly.

He managed to shrug.

“How are you still alive?”

“Luck,” he croaked. The words were getting stuck in his throat, only partly because of the clamp on it. “C’mon, Cart-Carter. Gotta… be – easier pickin’s.”

“Yeah,” Carter said, leaning in. His breath misted unpleasantly over Sixsmith’s ear, “Not many of ‘em owe us. And –“ his tone suddenly became upbeat – “have an opportunity to pay us back.”

His lungs were glass. Breathing would shatter him.

“What…?”

“A hundred pounds,” Carter murmured, “That’s your debt repaid thrice. With interest.”

Stout grabbed his hands, wrapping twine around his wrists. The rasp shocked him back to life. Sixsmith went to yank his hands back, only for the pressure to increase around his throat.

It’d been a bloody gamble and he’d lost.

Wait.  

An idea struck him. Not a good idea, but it was better than another head injury. Carefully, Sixsmith let his body fold inwards and tried to look like he’d given up.

Carter was looking at him suspiciously, but he let go. Sixsmith inhaled deeply, wincing at the dizziness which came with air. Bound hands weren’t ideal, but he’d worked with worse odds before. Admittedly, that’d been ten years and several injuries ago, but the principle of the thing wasn’t hugely different.

At least, Sixsmith hoped it wasn’t.

As the two brawlers each gripped an arm and began to march him towards the street, he managed, “Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, wait!”

“What?” Carter growled.

“Listen, listen. You like bets, right? ‘Course you do.” Digging his heels into the ground and fumbling in his pocket – hard to do with one half-working hand and another one quickly going numb – Sixsmith mined a penny from his pocket.

Stout laughed. “A penny won’t cut it, doc.”

Sixsmith shook his head and – somehow – rolled the penny across his knuckles. “C’mon. Just a wager. Indulge me.”

“You’re stalling,” Carter sneered.

“Aye, well, obviously, but c’mon.” He proffered the coin and hurried on, “I flip this coin. Heads, I go with you – no fuss or nuthin’. Tails –“

“We let you go?” Stout smirked, “Not for a hundred pounds.”

“No, no, tails – same story, right?” He tried not to look over at the door, kept his gaze focused on the smaller man. “But if it lands on its edge… I get a ten-minute head start.”

It didn’t appear to be landing, but they’d stopped. Surely, Emmett or someone would be coming to investigate his disappearance…

“On its edge?” Stout broke first. He was scowling in concentration, glaring at Sixsmith’s hands.

He grinned. “On its edge. Ten minutes. C’mon, what d’ya lose?”

Carter appeared to be thinking deeply; Sixsmith could almost see the wheels turning.  Maybe he should’ve bargained for more time – made it less obviously appealingly one-sided. Stout seemed invested enough, quick glances flickering between his compatriot and prisoner.

He held his breath.

Finally, Carter shrugged. “Five.”

Spreading his hands as far as they’d go – not far at all, Shades besides, the twine was tight – Sixsmith repeated, “Five. Five is fine.”

“And if you make a peep on the way, I’ll break your jaw.”

He accepted this with a quick shake of the shoulders and tried to keep his adrenaline tamped down. Far more smoothly than he thought possible, he worked the coin into position, inhaled, and then flipped it into the air.

It spun, a silver glint caught by the solitary lantern, glittering as it reached the pinnacle of its arc and…

Sixsmith smashed his foot into the side of Carter’s knee, shoved him off-balance into Stout, and bolted.

He hit the door, seized the handle in both hands and yanked it open. Light blinded him as he stumbled over the threshold. A hand brushed his shirt as he turned to grab the inner doorknob, fingers snagging in the front of his collar. Gasping, Sixsmith slammed the door closed – earning a shrill “Fuck-bitch!” – and then leapt back as it was ripped from his hands. He backpedalled desperately, dodged a swing from Carter, tripped over an uneven floorboard, and went down hard on his side, winded. Carter grasped his trouser leg, tearing the fabric, and Sixsmith twisted, lashing out. His foot struck bone – Carter’s cheek – and he was released.

Scrambling to his feet, still scrabbling towards the bar, he forced his lungs to fill, and yelled, “Emmett! Help!”

⸹

Emmett’s head snapped up at the cry. Instinctively, he snatched the poker from the stand and vaulted over the fireside chairs towards the sound.

He had enough time to land as Sixsmith fell through the saloon-doors, followed by a furious giant with a gun and the beginnings of a shiner. A second later, a second man waving a cutlass barged into the room.

His gaze immediately fell on Emmett. “You! Thief!”

A heartbeat of confusion thudded through his veins before hard-hammered lessons took over. He was in a tolerable Vinettae as the first strike came.

The poker was heavy, but he hadn’t used a real sword in so long that his clumsiness was neither hindered nor helped by it. Emmett danced back, parrying a wild stab towards his guts. The sword slid along the metal, screeching horribly. The stink of coal filled his nose.

Eyes watering, he blocked another swing and nearly fell over an armchair. Emmett stumbled, barely ducking in time as the blade passed over his head close enough to shave the tips of his hair and jabbed upwards.

His attacker fell back with a screech, holding his ribs. Spittle formed at the corner of his mouth, wet panting escaping between rubbery lips.

It was going to be a wild swing; this man had no finesse with the blade –

A glass smashed near the man’s head, forcing him to jump aside, attention snapping to a new threat.

Emmett glanced too, seeing Kizzy frozen in the aftermath of a throw, but recovered quicker. Swiftly, he brought his poker down on the man’s right wrist.

Yowling in pain, the stout man dropped his cutlass and fell back as Emmett stabbed into his guts.  

A gunshot rang out.

“Nobody move or I blow his head off!”

Sucking in a lungful of air, ears ringing, head pounding, Emmett halted. His heart constricted.

The giant – the brawler who had chased them last night – was by the saloon doors, an arm locked about Sixsmith’s neck and a gun jammed against his temple. Hastily, Emmett scanned the room, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Talas was barely out of his chair, fingers denting the cushioned arms. Kizzy was still on top of the table, Scarlett by the bar. Maia was lying on the floor, arms covering her head.

A still-smoking hole was drilled in the floorboard scant inches from her left hip.

“Nobody move,” he repeated, “Or this shit gets it.” For emphasis, he pressed his weapon harder against his hostage’s head, forcing Sixsmith to have to crane his neck to compensate.  Nodding over at Emmett, he added, “So drop the poker.”

Emmett hesitated.

“Bluff –“ Sixsmith choked the brawler clamped a hand over his mouth, trapping his throat in the crook of his captor’s elbow. He was on his toes, scratching futilely at the man’s sleeves.

“Shuddup!”  

Stout feinted towards his dropped cutlass, dodging back as Emmett pointed the poker.

“If you put him down,” he heard Maia say from the floor, “We can talk about this.”

“Talk?” the giant was backing away, dragging his hostage with him. “Hundred pounds talks. Not you. Owen! C’mon.”

Stout – Owen – sneered at Emmett as he retreated. “Don’t even think of coming after us. Or we’ll – we’ll slaughter all of youse.”

Emmett’s heartbeat was a thrum. Not moving his head, he scanned the room – glasses, cutlery, a few plates.

“Look, put him down,” Maia called, “For fuck’s sake, he’s going blue!”

“Well, if you’d all stop moving -” the giant hefted Sixsmith higher, ignoring the strangled gasp – “then this’ll be much quicker.”

Owen reached the giant’s side, fingers curling and uncurling like he was still trying to reach the sabre abandoned at Emmett’s feet. “Alive, Carter,” he said lowly. “Can’t get the money if ‘e’s dead.”

“Fine.” Carter theatrically loosened his grip and gestured grandiosely with the gun. “If I see any of you following us –“

Sixsmith bit him.

The bar plummeted into darkness, the aftermath of the muzzle-flash blinding Emmett as he leapt forwards. Someone screamed. A body hit the floor followed by something metallic striking wood.

Emmett’s foot hit something soft and he staggered, landing painfully on his hands, shouting rising around him.

Then the saloon doors squeaked to a stop.

“Shades beside us, Emmett. You got me in the ribs!”

“Six!” Emmett scrambled up. “Are you alright?”

A match flared nearby, illuminating Maia’s shocked face. The flame wobbled in her shaking hands.

Sixsmith looked up at them both and grinned, eyes gleaming with a mischievous devilment. “That were an adventure, weren’t it?”

“What happened?”

“Miss Scarlett –“ Sixsmith gestured with bound hands – “has one hell of a throwin’ arm.” He looked down and laughed suddenly. “Holy shit, you sliced his fuckin’ ear off!”

[kevlarcrack3d]

I'm gonna write headcanon pasts for the One Piece admirals! They're just so damn interesting and I love their mobster/rebel/yakuza theme! Kinda reminds me of the games lol.

BEWARE OF ANGST!: MENTIONS OF CHILD ABUSE, VIOLENT CRIME, UNDERAGE DRINKING, AND SELF-HARM

So, I looked at the childhood images of Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru and made what I could make out of what I can see in the images. No kid photos of Fujitora and Greenbull yet, do I used canon events as refs.

Akainu (Sakazuki) 🐶:

He had a turbulent childhood in a crime-riddled place. His father was a crime boss who abused him for seeing Marines as his hero, because his dad knew more that the Marines and WG were corrupt and shit. After all, the dad was a criminal, while Akainu genuinely wanted to serve in the marines and stand for his "justice".

A Marine he idolized gave him the tattered cap shortly before he killed his father because that Marine brainwashed and gaslit him into believing in his twisted justice during his stay in that area while searching for pirates. Akainu saw the battle and was instantly INSPIRED. He would become like his hero and blow up his shithole hometown.

Akainu has seen crimes, vices, violence, and all sorts of moral decadence in his place, so it's not surprising his views on justice got fucked up. He learned street smarts and how to fight due to his environment. He met Aokiji after killing his dad (it's anime logic where the young kid can kill an adult with fighting experience) and both had a rocky, love-hate (yes, I used to ship these two) relationship while wandering and doing odd jobs before being taken in by the Marines.

Since both grew up in turbulent, violent environments, they had the physical and mental strength (and fuckedup-ness) to fight in the Marines, and it'd be a waste to just let them toil while doing household chores, right?

So, they were taken in and trained. All the time, even until they were admirals, Akainu and Aokiji were arguing, always. Their opposing views, personalities, and justices didn't help either. Sometimes, they'd even be petty, like, Aokiji just moves Akainu's bonsai vase a little and Akainu is in a real foul mood and then shit hits the fan. It's very hilarious to see, especially when they were kids, they always had to be disciplined because they were always fighting 😂.

Akainu always had to deal with Aokiji's apathy and laziness. Akainu was the kid always angry and serious, so he was a rather amazing student - always "upright" in the Marines' eyes. Aokiji was the lazy but smart one, as in, super lazy. During teamwork training, Aokiji was kind of a slacker at first and Akainu would fight him always. It kinda died down over time as they became adults, but Akainu is still pissed about it, as always 😂.

Soon, Akainu burned down his pirate and criminal infested hometown. Fuck the innocents and everything. There are criminals there and he will send them to hell. And he succeeded.

Akainu also had a rather romanticized view of the Marines as a child due to his circumstances. Anything about spreading justice, order, and punishing criminals, and he'll be pumped up. This is the shit for him, and he's quick to plan and act when it comes to these. Despite his angry, wild nature, ever since he was young, he was ever so PASSIONATE about being a ROUGH, STRONG Marine man. Hence, the rose of the fuckin' lady killer sheesh 🥵. Something here's burning hot and it's not just the lava!

Yah, yah, I just spent over half the year creating yakuza/boryokudan OCs and well, I guess the dashing underworld outlaw prince swept me off my feet 🤩🤩🤩...

Aokiji (Kuzan) 🐦: Aokiji had deadbeat parents who always let him get beat up. He lived in the same area as Akainu. Due to his family being deadbeat, he picked up vices and began to drink at an early age. He decided to wander away, doing odd jobs. Despite his apathy towards most of the world and anger towards criminals, helping people with chores kind of softened his heart. This has helped him develop a sense of compassion, unlike Akainu, who did these chores as a way to work towards being accepted by the Marines. Sometimes, Aokiji would be dog tired and sleep a lot in his free time.

Soon, he met Akainu and they accompanied each other. Being alone was boring, and besides, they were kids. They'd argue a lot, even while working, AND especially when sharing a sleeping space. Oh boy, they'd get violent when one starts pressing agains the other.

And that's the definition of true love according to what my shipper brain said

The Marines soon took them in and they began to train. Aokiji was rather apathetic to this at first, but then actually began to warm up a bit to his job. Sometimes, it was even entertaining, especially arguing with Akainu or simply bullshitting his fiery frienemy. But, as Aokiji became an adult, cracks began to show.

Aokiji began to see all the misery and corruption. The causes of poverty and crime, a lot caused by the WG. He saw innocent people hurt due to the WG. Soon, he fell back to his apathetic ways. But, despite being so jaded and weary, he still had that kind-hearted side for those with benevolent intentions, regardless of them being pirates or otherwise. Soon, he wanted to be free to do this and resign from the Marines. Deep down, he had a heart like the snow, cold, and yet beautiful.

Dagnabbit, I'm crying why the fuck do I do this to myself 😭😭😭?

Kizaru (Borsalino) 🙈: Kizaru's family was the type that placed all their hopes on him to achieve their broken dreams for them, so they encouraged him to learn and study. He was rather pressured sometimes, but he did truly enjoy his studies and reading. He'd happily skip to the library sometimes and told them his stories. A light to their world, if I must say. Aaaand the feels are back 🥲.

Kizaru then decided to join the Marines, a decision his parents supported, seeing he could finally give them an ego boost, like "HOLY SHIT MY SON IS A MARINE, NOW, CLAP, GUYS". Not really his dream or what he wanted, but he just went with the flow. He was an easygoing, cool, chill dude anyway.

Soon, he met Akainu and Aokiji in training. He ALWAYS had to be there to calm these two down if they started arguing. One mean look from Akainu to Aokiji or vice versa, "woah there, now stop my dudes" Kizaru was the pacifier between them. He was also the quiet, cool, but very smart kid who always was in the topnotchers. However, he was the type to suck up to the government's ideals and decisions of the majority of the top brass and whatever view a certain faction of theirs chooses as right. He was like a ship bobbing on the waves without someone to steer it.

Soon, he got to meet Vegapunk due to his knowledge on some certain machines thanks to his childhood of reading. He would keep a VERY CLOSE EYE ON THE SCIENTIST. That's what he was tasked to do. He had no problem with that anyway. Then, he met Sentomaru, Kuma, and Bonney, and maybe, just maybe, his nonchalant, neutral personality slipped away, having seen the innocence of a kid who viewed him as an uncle and the sweetness of a father and his daughter. He found himself having fun for the first time, but maybe, he just didn't know it. But the memory stuck.

To thisbday, Kizaru is still nonchalant as ever, but maybe, I hope, something might happen in Egghead arc now with him. Could be good development for someone so dull, yet so bright.

Dammit. Them 2D cartoon seamen making me cry.

Fujitora (Issho) 🐯: Oh God, this is a dark one. Fujitora was a very unfortunate lad. He had an, abusive, overpopulated family who hated him and beat him to near death. They saw he was durable when he fought back and decided to sell him to the Marines. It wasn't fair. But the world's not fair. Always, Fujitora saw poverty and very VILE bastards in his place. It was not surprising to him. But, his hell was just going to begin.

Fujitora had a strong moral compass (besides his gambling) and trained hard to spread justice in the Marines. But, as his rank got higher, the more horrible things he saw in the WG. Corruption, slavery, hatred, and all things unpleasant. Ugh, he wanted to leave. Why? Justice is for everyone, right? So, why can't he bring it to those above him, who abuse their power? That's right, it was the world being unfair.

All the shit he has witnessed made him sick to the stomach. Are these the people he was working with and working for? Yuck. He decided to resign last minute before a promotion.

But, before he left, Fujitora reflected on his life before being sold to the Marines and after being sold to the Marines. Just the same. It was just the same back there. It was just unfair, so unfair. Wherever he went, there were always bad people oppressing the lass fortunate like he once was. Fujitora was unable to take the gravity in that moment and cut his eyes. He decided to cancel his resignation and return to the Marines. That way, at least, he can rise up to a position where he can stand for fairness. But if any sign of humanity comes before him, Fujitora will be unable to see it clearly again, despite his kind heart. He may feel it, but never see it, so he can only partially feel it. A prize to pay for justice.

This one was sad. And when kindness did come to his heart genuinely in the form of Luffy, he couldn't see those kind eyes 😭.

Ryokugyu (Aramaki) 🐂: This dude seems to have sucked according to the fandom, but screw that.

So, since he's quite the simp for the WG, Aramakiwas bought as a baby by the Marines, so all he knew was the WG's ideals.

Though unruly and wild, he was valued because he was loyal, even when he did things outside anything approved, like not asking permission to deal with certain peeps. He was also very destructive as a child, so he needed lots of discipline, too. In fact, this wild boy has been chided more than anyone could count they stopped scolding him altogether 😂!

[cartoon-buffoon]

Here's a Cartoon Cat' fanfic idk if I'll post on my AO3 so semi-exclusive story, btw this is inspired by my favorite stories of all time and a song. If you can somehow guess which story and which song you get a gold star for doing a goods.

TW for: gore and body horror

Reruns

Throughout all of time it had gone long undisturbed. What lurked behind a friendly cartoon cat's smile was a nothing more than sinister force that loved to indulge in the fear and havoc it could wreck. With powers beyond mortal comprehension it had no competition, it reigned supreme at the top of the food chain with not one to challenge it. Using these powers it was at first content with the simple disappearances that it would make, people here and there who went down dark alleys, abandoned crossroads, desolate malls, old warehouses, all of them suddenly vanishing without a trace. Picking people off, dragging them away screaming, and torturing them while it ripped them apart was fun but eventually that grew boring for the faux feline. It craved more, more and more which it consumed and caused chaos. Soon entire neighborhoods vanished, bloodstains and body parts laying in homes where the residents should be. From neighborhoods it advanced to entire towns, thousands gone just like that. Towns turned to cities, cities turned to counties, counties to states, states to regions, by the time an entire area suddenly went dead a mass hysteria infected the world. Mortals assumed the apocalypse was upon them and they'd be right, once its presence was known it need not hide anymore.

That was the fun part for it, once everybody knew of the Cartoon Cat as something more than just urban legend or myth it grew bold. Dashing through streets and populated areas it grew hands and arms out of its back in order to snatch man, women, child, animal, all that crossed its path in order to shove them down its gullet. At one point it even ceased to feed, it opted to just bite down on the skulls of its prey popping their heads sending skull fragments and blood across the pavement only to discard the rest of the bodies like trash. It didn't need food anymore, it merely killed for the sport and thrill of it, thrill of seeing the vain attempts to run or fight, it's absolute favorite was when it couldn't spot anybody out in the open. That's where the real game began. With the mortals getting smart they hid to the best of their abilities, trying not to be found and maybe outlast this entity posing as a black cat that made mincemeat out of the people they knew. One by one over the span of only a few years all their hopes and dreams were crushed though, each who hid was found with the Cartoon Cat spending extra time to make their deaths as painful as possible, a sort of reward for making the game just so entertaining. Like all things though the game had to come to an end, with no more mortals or animals the world fell into ruin. With the mortal's death soon the other cryptids who stalked the earth died out, without life to feed from they starved and perished. With no mortals left, no games to play, no fear to strike into people, the same too was happening to the Cartoon Cat. It was the very things it killed that kept it intact, its demented existence was kept alive by those who acknowledged its existence.

At the end of all there was naught to do but be consumed by the hollow rot and bloodlust that he used to consume the mortals.

It sat on where it originally called home, the abandoned mall which it used to lurk. With all humans gone nature had reclaimed it as well as most of the rest of earth. Vines creeped up the side and trees sprouted from the foundation, gazing at a setting sun the Cartoon Cat couldn't help but find irony in the one thing having the last laugh and outliving it was the very ground it walked on. The ground it smeared with the blood of billions. Alas it wasn't completely alone though, after all while most cryptids did rely on a food source there were creatures like it who either held a purpose or relied on belief to keep them alive. While not all of them were extra dimensional the mortals roughly classified those they deemed otherworldly or alien as "Patron Saints", while The Cartoon Cat itself was deprived of such a title for being "too evil" that didn't stop them from grouping it in with the rest. It was one of those who it was grouped in with which showed up as its time was nearing the end. The patron saint of guiding lost souls and a bearer of warning decided to pay the thing who ruined the lives of the mortals it tried to warn a visit, the Long Horse as it was aptly named. Its neverending infinite neck climbed up the building and it held its head up beside The Cartoon Cat, staring at it with its empty sockets.

This sure was a surprise to the cat, it was acquainted with the skull headed creature but it could hardly call it a friend. The Long Horse spent a good deal of its existence warning the mortals of The Cartoon Cat, but now there was no one left to warn. They were polar opposites but in the end it didn't really matter, nothing mattered considering they were both dying. The feline glanced at the creature out of the corner of its eye and saw this clear as day. Fractures and cracks had accumulated onto its skull, its spine that held up its skull looked brittle like the smallest bit of force could break the bone. The cat contemplated doing this, ending the thing that would ruin its meals here and now, but there would be no satisfaction in it, no fight to justify the kill, besides time would soon rapture them itself.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything"

The age old proverb of misery coming in 3s proved right. An uninvited guest made his presence known as he walked up to the two other cryptids, the individual in question being the patron saint of havoc and disaster. Negativity itself embodied into the form of a sharply dressed man with his face twisted upside down. His tone was smug and while the two showed signs of rot the man with the upside down face showed no signs of being affected, although his time on earth as it stood was too coming to an end. Despite this his tone was smug, seeing the two once powerful creatures weak before him made him absolutely giddy.

"Pardon my lateness I was checking up on the others, safe to say it's just us three left: the maggots lurking in underpasses all shriveled up and died, beak-face offed himself by ripping out his halo to open a gateway for his followers to only-he-knows, roady passed away in some animal graveyard, the big fella and his spawn huddled up before they faded, heck even that ol' siren's flesh rusted right off his bone" the man's twisted smile grew wider, the taste of their death's fresh on his tongue "oh you should of been there! I'm sure you would of loved to see it"

The Cartoon Cat remained silent, still staring out at the sunset. It didn't have words to spare, certainly none to that upside down headed bottom feeding leech.

This silence provoked the man to take another step forward, his shoes clacking against the mall's roof "oh come on, do you really got nothing for me smiley? Don't tell me you're scared of death now" the man's eyes fixated on the cat, trying to garner any sort of reaction as he spoke "I guess that's why they call you a pussycat for a reason"

If it was a reaction the man wanted it would be a reaction he would get. Even in its rotting state the Cartoon Cat held enough power to wipe that smile off the man's face. Turning to face him it bared stained teeth, its gums leaking blood from its maw.

It was at this point the Long Horse intervened, stretching in-between the two it acted as a barrier as both of its sockets on the side of its skull bore into the two cryptids.

"Oh come on skelly, don't you see this entire thing is his fault, what's he got to cry over?" The man with the upside down face brought a hand up to his mouth, trying to cover his mouth as he snickered "oh it just drives me WILD how much I can feel your pity for smiley over there! Even as you're about to die you hold no anger or rage towards the very thing that brought us all to our doom, it's comical really..."

The Cartoon Cat's flesh began to droop off its form as it stood and turned to face the man with his face upside down. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air and it hunched over, ready to strike at the patron saint who was trying to get a last meal out of both their emotions.

"Look at you" The man continued "Standing there with your sickly looking self, I do got to hand it to you though, I'm surprised your body hasn't caved in on itself yet, you using the last bit of power you have to stay awake?"

The Long Horse extended itself further into the air, its spine creaking and cracking in a way no bone should. Although it remained silent a strong gust of wind blew across the area making the man's tie flutter. It was a warning.

"hehehe...." The warning was met with laughter, the man was absolutely reveling in the moment and ignored Long Horse, looking over across towards the decaying cryptid "I thought you were stronger than this, are you really having the pacifist stand up for you? This is a new low for you truly-"

The wind picked up, the breeze growing stronger with each word the man said.

"Maybe if you used your brain instead of your stomach you'd realize this would be the end goal of your little massacre, but you didn't ever think of that did you? Instead all you thought about was satisfying that unquenchable thirst to kill but now you left yourself, and everyone high and dry, a desert without an oasis"

Gusts of air tried to drown out what the man with the upside down face was saying, but he knew all too well the cat could hear him. He continued, his tone more condescending by the second.

"Acting as if you deserve anything else other than this, you've reaped what you've sowed and that's the souls of all you saw, I may be throwing stones in a glass house here yet it takes one to know one which is why I can safely say you're nothing but a sad little speck from the void who wanted to hide behind some fake face in order to turn this world into your little playground"

"ENOUGH"

The Long Horse's voice echoed throughout the air, traveling on the wind as it fell onto the man and cat's ears. The deep, hoarse tone made the mall shake and the man go silent, although a pacifist and a creature of benevolence it had grown fed up with the mockery. What came around went around, karma physically manifesting as blood the man puked up.

Falling to his knees the man spoke through grit teeth, his smile morphing into a scowl "I see the truth isn't very welcome here, fine then" he stood up and fixed his tie "I'll be off now since I'm clearly unwanted, I hope that little stunt of yours was worth it skelly seeing as you don't got much life left in you" walking away the man couldn't help but get the last laugh in, taking a quick glance back at the rotting feline he uttered his words of departure "after everything is said and done I look forward to seeing you in the abyss... if we don't forget ourselves that is, until next time Cartoon Cat". The man's words were laced with venom, mocking the name that the cryptid chose for itself.

With that he was gone, vanishing into thin air leaving the only other two cryptids alive behind.

The two soon becoming one, The Long Horse's borrowed time was all spent up hurting the man with the upside down face. The cracks on it deepened and its spine turned to dust, its skull landing right in the hands of the Cartoon Cat.

The Cartoon Cat stared at the patron saint that lay in its palms, the horse's body and connection to the earth severed. It didn't know whether the creature was still alive or if the skull was merely the remains of that wish used to plague it, either way it couldn't help but embrace the skull. The cat's body was and time was coming to an end, the form it took destabilizing. Ovular pupils struggled to maintain their shape, they dilated growing wider and wider until the sclera was consumed by the pupil, eyes now pure white. With blurred vision the Cartoon Cat couldn't see the body it had made for itself, but maybe that was for the better because it sure could feel it. Blood and pus oozed out of every orifice on its body, mouth, eyes, even the pores that lined its body soon secreted a foul smelling combination of liquid that signified its decay. The skin it had started to sag off molded bones, its face particularly coming undone revealing the hideous visage of what truly lurked behind the mask. Not one would be left to view it though, instead all that there would be was silence. While it still had time left and the sounds of death dripped off his form it's mind began to ponder what it could of done differently.

It was too late now but it still wondered out of curiosity, perhaps the curiosity could have saved it if it ever considered the different options. Maybe it could have existed as a purely fear based entity, instead of downright killing mortals it could have given them a good scare, feed off that fear. Another idea was instead of killing humans directly it could have taken a page of that leech's book and be an omen that would cause disasters, toppling over skyscrapers or collapsing bridges, killing people that way. Maybe malice wasn't the road, maybe it could have avoided its current predicament if it was a bit more kind to the mortals it so eagerly killed. It could have been one of the few cryptids revered as something good, a savior to humanity, a patron saint which lived up to its name. Helping mortals advance, defending them against other entities that wished to feed off them. It could have gained just as much if not more attention by being kind to the mortals, instead of latching onto their nostalgia and using its form to harm it could have been a proper cartoon cat using their positive emotions rather than the negative ones to maintain on earth. All those ideas passed through its mind but it couldn't help but feel that no matter what it did the ending would be the same, even if given a second chance to repent it's body would still be melting into a putrid pile of meat. As its senses dulled and it could no longer feel the Long Horse's skull in its hands it knew death had come for it, or at least for its body that it inhabited.

Death or the death of its body was cold, not frigid but cold nonetheless, the feeling was almost familiar in a way. Despite its body finally rotting and its eyes closing for what would be the final time somehow it maintained its senses. It could still smell, hear, see, feel, taste, but all of them were numbed to the point it couldn't pick up on anything exact. What it could see though was an ever expanding black that stretched out for miles, a complete and utter void with nothing but itself alone in it, alone with a deafening silence. It wondered if this is truly where it came from, it had been so many years since it fashioned that form for itself that it had forgotten what the abyss was like, was this where it originated from? It doubted it strongly, although an abyss would be an apt description of what it saw it knew whatever it was in wasn't that. It still clung onto the memories of who it was instead of having all that stripped away, it was in a weird in-between. A limbo, a line where neither death nor life treaded, where time meant nothing and space was but a mere concept. Of course the only other thing was the silence, the silence which allowed it to be alone with its thoughts for what would be an eternity.

Or at least, that's what it assumed.

No, by some miracle it seemed this wouldn't be all that existence had in store for it. A voice broke through the silence and drew its attention, what would have been death was interrupted by the unsure words of man. A man who sounded confused and scared, an all to mortal emotion.

"Hello? Anybody here?"

Its eyes opened back up to find not its body rotten and diseased but instead perfectly intact. Yellow eyes glowed in the dark allowing it to see everything in clear view, the scenery was that of its mall before nature took over, before its global massacre. Down the hall shined what one could only assume was a flashlight of someone intruding on the space it took shelter in. It didn't know how, why, but it nonetheless knew that in some way it was brought back to either before its giant mistake or to a new world entirely. That didn't matter though, what mattered was doing something different this time around. Standing up and letting its long body graze the ceiling it emerged from its corner and towards the mortal. All those ideas that had ran through its head while it died were quickly forgotten, one idea prevailing among them.

"Huh? What's that?"

A grin formed across its face going from ear to ear. The end would be the same now matter what it did, so as it stepped into the light it knew what it would do instead.

"Wha-... What the fuck..."

With a newfound appreciation for the mortals it hunted it would take time this run around. After all this run wouldn't be that different, bones would break, skin ripped clean off, tears of those who begged for mercy would fall on the ground.

"Oh god... OH GOD!"

As it lunged forward ready to make the mortal suffer it knew the exact process this time around. It would savor each and every kill it came across, prolonging and allowing the mortals to eventually kill themselves off while it would take a singular one each time it pleased, drawing out their suffering as much as possible. It would savor the kill instead of letting greed force its hand to slaughter everything. After all, it was just one big rerun…

A rerun of its favorite episode.

[bigdealsgoddog]

Ooooo imagine a scenario where Eugene is looking for (maybe traitor?) reader using the 🙉 prompt? All of workers are off fighting big deal so Eugene went to go tie up the loose ends with his “partner”

Ehehehehe I feel like this would be a very yandere esque scenario especially if Eugene personally was into reader Yandere!Eugene(Yoojin)xGN!reader Tw: Threatened kidnapping, implied yandere

It would've been when The Hunt for Big Deal initially started once Eugene had the meeting with the other executives of workers had gathered so he could re-introduce Xiaolung back into the group. He told the others that they could begin the hunt while he went off to go 'tie up some loose ends.' The Only ones who knew what those "loose ends" actually were were Yuseong and Mandeok. Those loose ends being you. You hadn't actually been called to the meeting oddly enough as one of his fellow executives. Turns out, you had been a friend of Big Deal, specifically Jake Kim. You had gone undercover for him initially when you joined the fourth affiliate with Samuel Seo. Personally, when Samuel had joined workers, you had followed him on your own hunch. Jake had been dealing with the gambling scams at that point and landed his stupid ass in jail. Everyone had focused their attention onto hostel, especially between God Dog and Hostel, they really didn't seem to care too much about what workers let alone Samuel was doing. So, you went undercover without them knowing, it's not like anyone would be able to know you came from Big Deal. You didn't live on the street, and you only protected the street because had helped you out one time back in middle school. You doubt he even remembers it and you kick yourself to today you still use that as an excuse to put yourself in danger. Like right now. Samuel had given away your position, most likely to not make himself look more of a suspicious character for whatever his goals were; however you worked your way all the way to workers second affiliate where you were able to get in contact with Jake again and update him about everything.

During your short reconnect with Jake, you had informed him that you were certain that workers was going to go after Hostel soon and once they did, Big Deal would certainly be next. And thus you decided from there on you would continue to spy for Jake to get any information you could that could warn him about the moves he would need to make. However, Eugene started to involve you in less and less meetings. You hadn't noticed at first, you were assuming Eugene was just too busy managing and securing the first affiliate was locked down tight. But you began noticing looks from Yuseong and Mandeok on occasion when they thought you weren't looking. Hell, even Samuel was giving you different looks here and there. They almost seemed like a warning that you unfortunately didn't pick up on until it was too late. You were rushing around Eugenes flat, trying to find something-anything really. You've realized you had to hurry up your ass to find something substantial about what Eugene was doing behind your back. Because not only was Big Deals safety on the line, so was yours. You didn't even get into workers because of your particular strength or fighting style. You just simply knew how to do business well, how to play the game as they say. But as Eugene would say, you've bet the wrong cards.

You froze in your tracks when you heard the front door open, your instincts took over you, making you make a mad dash to some room. It seemed to be some sort of at home office and you rushed underneath the desk, pulling your legs close to your chest and trying to even your breathing. Your heart rate began to quicken as you heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, slowly making their way to the room you were in.

"Hiding again (y/n)?" He spoke to himself, a small chuckle following his words. "You'd think someone as smart as you would have realized that I can track your phone" Your blood ran cold as you could practically hear the smile in his tone. "Although, I can't tell what room you're in, it only gives me a general coordinate for your location." He began to slowly walk around the room, seeming to be inspecting if any of his books or documents had been tampered with. "Although..." He started with a pause, picking up the manilla folder you had left on the filing cabinet when you realized it had nothing important. "I do like a good game of hide and seek, it's just...unfortunate." He set the folder down, walking over to his desk before yanking his chair from in front of the desk, making you gasp as your eyes widened with fear. He squatted down in front of you with a smile, tilting his head to the side as his eyes met yours. "You don't know how to hide very well (y/n). And don't even think of running, I know you're at least smart enough to not test my words whether or not you believe that my brother is standing by the front door to prevent you from trying run." You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking at him fearfully and you tried to scoot back away from him further, only pressing yourself into the corner of the desk. "You look like a deer in headlights" Eugene cooed, chuckling before reaching his hand out to you. You didn't want to see what he was about to do, immediately shutting your eyes as you turned your head away only to be met with a hand gently caressing your cheek. "Oh don't act like that. I'm not going to hurt you. after all, you have a lot to tell me don't you my little toy?"

[shapeshiftinterest]

Morton Helps: bowser x luigi

i love morton’s caring vibes towards junior in the video games and the headcanon that the koopalings are adopted

luigi and bowser are not dating yet; bowser’s starting to get a crush and luigi is oblivious

morton kidnaps a green man while trying to help his dad with his love life

bowuigi valentines event

prompt mix:

day 3: love rival

day 4: just friends (?)

day 6: secret admirer

story under the read more

Morton Helps (also on ao3)

Morton wasn’t book smart.

Morton wasn’t street smart either.

But he noticed things. Things like King Dad acting funny around Green Stache. Things like how he looked at the plumber the same way he used to look at Princess Peach. Things like how lately he’d been using the other’s name more often instead of a nickname.

It was because Morton noticed such things that he was currently in the dungeons, arms crossed and frowning at his wriggling hostage.

Wasn’t his fault he’d panicked! Morton just wanted to watch the green plumber and make sure he was good enough for his dad is all! It just so happened that he’d caught sight of the bean prince leaving the Mario house this time and may have, uh, forcefully invited him to Bowser’s castle.

Huffing, Morton yanked the bag off his hostage’s face and was almost blinded by the unnecessary anime sparkles if he hadn’t stolen borrowed one of Roy’s sunglasses. The koopa stomped forward and grabbed a fistful of the other prince’s tunic.

“ACK!” Only to get a mouthful of blond hair a second later. “BLEGH! PTHHBT! PPTHHBBT!!”

“Heh heh heh! Take that, you fiend!” The prisoner laughed triumphantly. He did another hairflip and whacked Morton in the face again, causing the other to let go and drop him. ”Oof!”

“NO HITTING MORTON! MORTON ONLY ONE WHO HITS!” Morton yelled, raising a fist.

“Wait!”

“HUH?”

“I am Prince Peasley of the Beanbean Kingdom, how dare you treat royalty like this, you cur!” Peasley blew a strand out of his face and sat up as regally as he could. Morton scowled.

“MORTON PRINCE TOO! NOT CURRY!”

“Really?” Peasley asked, surprised that another royal would act so... ill mannered. “Pray tell, why have you captured me then? I don’t recall meeting you before, so I don’t think I’ve done anything that would get me kidnapped.”

“s..ayw.yfr.ml..g.i.”

“I beg pardon?”

“STAY AWAY FROM LUIGI!!”

The green prince was stunned, not just from the volume but the statement as well. “And why should I?” He asked, rolling his eyes. “Luigi is my friend, I don’t think you have a say me visiting him.”

Morton stomped again, frustrated. If he had more hair he’d be pulling it out by now. Why didn’t this little sparkly man understand?

“KING DAD LIKE GREEN MARIO! YOU NO VISIT! NO ROSES, NO SPARKLING, NO NOTHING! STAY AWAY!!”

Oh. Oooooohhhh! Well this was certainly interesting. Apparently his mustachio’d friend had a secret admirer, and the violent king of the koopas no less! 

Peasley stood up and rubbed his wrists, bean dagger tucked back into its hilt as his ropes fell to the ground. He supposed Morton would have to learn to search his captives for weapons the hard way.

“WHUH-,” Morton looked to Peasley, then back to the ropes, then back to Peasley. “HEY! NO FAIR!”

“Heh heh heh.” Peasley struck a dashing pose and wagged his index finger at the other prince. “Worry not, Prince Morton! For I meant what I said.”

He flipped his hair, producing more anime sparkles. Morton sneezed. “Dear Luigi and I are merely close friends. Bosom buddies, if you will.”

“BUZZ??”

“Nevermind all that,” Peasley waved his hand at the topic. “I can’t promise I'll stop visiting Luigi but rest assured, I am no love rival. That I swear.”

Morton blinked, brain still trying to process the flowery language.

“And with that, I bid you adieu!” Suddenly, the cell wall behind the bean prince exploded and he lept backwards, landing on... a bean platform with wings?

“WAIT!” Morton yelled, grabbing his cape and almost yanking Peasley off his ride. “DON’T- DON’T TELL!”

The prince gave him a smile and tossed a golden rose at his face. “You have my word that I will keep the koopa king’s crush a secret.” It’d be more fun to watch what would happen anyway. They’d be an interesting match for sure.

Morton watched the prisoner fly away; he was still there 15 minutes later when Roy came down to take his glasses back and started freaking out about the blasted hole in the dungeon wall.

BONUS:

morton was spying on luigi and kidnaps prince peasley because he thinks they’re either dating luigi, or that luigi has a crush on the prince (that’s in the past but he still gets blushy)

peasley cut the ropes, i remember he had a sword in one of the games but he either has a dagger here or the sword can change size

peasley won’t tell anyone (including luigi or bowser) about bowser’s crush, or that morton accidentally told him BUT! he will consider flirting with luigi in front of bowser a little, just to speed things along

[skylarmoon71]

Patrick Jane (Mentalist) - Chapter 1

The subtle smiles and looks from your coworkers should have been an indication that something was up.

You were a detective after all. Walking into the office of your supervisor, you stopped by the door.

“Close it would you.”

He gestured.

You closed the door, now very worried at the way he was smiling at you proudly.

Captain Sean Haynes never smiled like that unless a corrupted politician was exposed or a serial killer was off the streets.

“Who did you kill, sir?”

“Because I’m in a good mood I’m going to ignore that comment Detective (L/N).”

He stood from his seat.

“I’m sure you’ve heard some of the others discussing that opening at the CBI. They’ve been looking for some of the best.”

You grin, because you realize where this is going.

“Angela told me. Micheal as well. A lot of them applied for the position. Did Angela get the job? You want to plan a surprise party? I’m on it. I can start putting things together.”

You looked ready to dash out the office.

“Hold up, that’s not why you’re here.” 

He picked an envelope off his desk, stepping closer as he held it out. You just stared down at it.

“What is this?”

“It’s your new job. You got it.”

Disbelief crossed your face, then panic.

“S-Sir, that's impossible, I never applied for the position.”

“I sent in your application. I also added my recommendation along with a few more from your previous jobs. You’re an incredible detective. The director asked me personally to make a recommendation and I chose you.”

The fact that he thinks so highly of you should make you ecstatic, but the realization of what this means is terrifying. You should have explained to him better why you didn’t apply. He must have overheard you speaking to some of the others about your hesitance and assumed you were just scared of change.

“This is a good thing. Trust me I don’t want to lose you in this department, but this opportunity is a game changer. You’re adaptive, honest and thorough. I have faith in your ability.”

You have yet to take the letter. As you stare at it you become aware that you can’t just turn down this. Sean is not known for being the most emotionally expressive person, but you know he’d put his life on the line for any of his officers. He did this for you, to help. To reject that would be bad. You try to keep your hand steady as you take the envelope and his smile brightens.

“You’ll do great.”

That’s what he said.

A month later you were transferred into the California Bureau of Investigation. Angela and Micheal had both congratulated you and used some of their vacation days to help you unpack and get settled in. The second they left California you could feel that internal fear that came with the realization that this was actually happening.

You tried everything to look on the bright side, but the idea of being here was stressful. You took an extra day to gather your wits and when you walked through those doors, you gave yourself a talk. You just needed to be smart. Keep your head down for the first few months. Settle in and above all else, keep your distance from him.

“This is Patrick Jane, he’s our consultant.” Lisbon introduced.

He held out his hand and you gave a nod, keeping your hands at your side like you’d done with the rest of them. He withdrew his arm with a careful look and you were sure to keep your expression neutral.

“Thank you, I look forward to working with all of you.”

Vanpelt was smiling, possibly excited to have another woman on the team.

“Your desk is right here, let me know if you need anything.” She offered.

You were seated a bit closer to Cho’s desk. With a nod, you move to check out the area.

“I’m sorry to throw you into the field so early but we have a case. We were just about to head over. If you’d like to get settled in you can hang back.”

You contemplated it, but turning down the invitation would certainly raise a flag, at least for a certain consultant.

“It’s no problem. I can join.”

“Great, everyone meet at the van in five minutes.”

Nods were exchanged as everyone began to gather their belongings to leave.

You waited patiently, joining them when they started filling out the door.

The second you were all in the van Jane seems inclined to start his interrogation.

“So what’s the deal with you?”

“Jane.” Lisbon’s warning tone was enough.

“Please don’t piss off the newest member of our team.”

“I was just making conversation. “ He responded.

The rest of them snickered in the back, and you just sat quietly, hoping to get there quickly.

~

Lisbon was questioning Mrs. Connell and you studied everything. Your eyes drifted over James. Her son. He’s young. You know this will take a toll on him. Losing his father. At least that’s what you thought. 

You expected a different temperament. 

His collected behavior was a bit suspicious. You lifted your head when you felt a pair of eyes boring into you. Jane was looking at you. Clearing your throat you looked away. About to take a step to the side to maybe look for other clues that could back up what you were slowly putting together about the murder. You moved to head into the kitchen but James grabbed your hand unexpectedly, clearly about to ask a question.

The rush you felt at the contact made you practically rip your hand out of his hold. You stared at him in horror and now all eyes seemed trained on you.

“P-Please excuse me.”

You paced out of the room, lecturing yourself for losing your cool.

When the interview was over everyone met you outside.

“I apologize for my reaction.”

“It’s okay.”

From her look you knew she must have just assumed you had some kind of issue with germs. You sighed, happy with her understanding.

“About the case, I think we should look into previous accidents involving their son.” You advised.

Lisbon looked a bit confused.

“Their son? James is twelve. Why should we focus on him?” 

“Because James is a sociopath.” Jane’s comment produces shocked expressions.

“What do you mean sociopath, he’s a kid.” Lisbon argues.

“He’s the murderer. Case closed. Lock him up.” 

Jane turned heading for the van as Lisbon chased after him.

“Wait! You can’t just drop something like that without evidence.”

“You’ll find evidence in that little box he keeps under his bed. He’s smart, but narcissistic. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be caught. His mother isn’t an angel either. She’s known for a while that he might be dangerous. She probably even suspected that he killed her husband.”

Lisbon still looks unsure.

“If you don’t believe it, just bring them in. Put them in different rooms and threaten to send her to prison, she’ll confess to anything if she thinks she’ll lose her son. Her husband just died, she doesn’t want to leave her her son too.” 

Through his entire assessment you’re quiet. Lisbon lets out a sigh, as she begins to give tasks.

“Rigsby, Cho, call the sheriff, we’re going to take them in for questioning. Vanpelt call forensics, we’ll need a warrant to search the house.”

Lisbon turns back to Jane with a solemn look.

“I hope you’re wrong about this.” 

You know she doesn’t want to believe an innocent child could do something so horrible.

“Me too.”

Lisbon knew it was unrealistic. 

Whenever Jane spoke in that tone of confidence she knew. They’d gotten the warrant. What was found in James’s bedroom proved Jane’s theory and much more. You didn’t need it though. From the second you saw him you knew something was off. But it’s that touch. That short interaction that reinforced what you suspected when you entered the house and James looked more composed than grieving. His mother pleaded, but there was nothing that could be done to stop it.

Her son was a monster. Left unattended he could kill so many. They took a monster off the street. You should be relieved. However, Jane has been sending you some not so subtle looks for the entirety of the day.

You just try to make it through the best you can.

The following day you try to ignore it all. Walk in and pretend that nothing is wrong.

“That’s the fastest we’ve ever closed a case. You might be a good luck charm.” Lisbon commended.

You gave a tentative smile.

“Jane was the one who figured it out, I just had a hunch.”

“Oh, don’t be modest, you’re good. I saw your file.”

You tense and Lisbon glares at him.

“How exactly did you get a hold of this file?”

“I have my ways, anyway, how did you know?”

He’s seated on his couch, just holding his cup of tea. You’ve never been so disarmed by someone that looks completely harmless.

“You’re a good detective, that goes without saying. You studied his body language. Picked up on the little social cues. It’s commendable. Your closing rate is also impressive. What concerns me is the fact that someone as skilled as you has stayed in the detective position so long. You’ve had plenty of opportunities I’m sure. I get the feeling that you were forced into this one. You never wanted to be here.”

You play that off with a smile.

“Why does everything have to be a conspiracy with you Mr. Jane.”

“Answer the question.”

Lisbon can spot the tension and now the rest of the team is just watching.

“Alright let’s all calm down.”

“I won’t because she’s hiding something. Something big. Whatever it is, it’s connected to the reason why you refuse to let people touch you.”

Swallowing, you pray that he’ll stop talking, stop fishing.

“You have no problem letting people think that you’re some kind of germaphobe, but that’s not it.”

“That’s enough Jane, stop it.”

“What, don’t you want to know if your agent is a spy, Lisbon?”

“I’m not a spy.”

He grins.

“But there is something, right?”

"I don't have to listen to this."

You need to leave before he says more.

“It’s something terrible, something you don’t want anyone to find out.”

You freeze in place, and you can see the looks you get from everyone in the room. 

Judging you, suspecting you.

Regardless of how unhinged Jane is, they trust him. 

You’re scared. 

You should have done a better job, faked it better. You should be denying every word, but you can’t get yourself to speak. You’re so panicked that you haven’t realized that Jane has closed a bit of the distance.

“What are you hiding?”

He takes your hands and you jolt.

“Why are you doing this, please, stop!”

You plea.

He’s staring at you in shock.

“How are you doing that..”

You just gape, because you didn’t imagine it, he heard you.

He heard you.

A bulb above your head pops, the glass dropping to the floor. Everyone jumps and you yank your hands out of his grasp. Before anything else is said you sprint out of the room.

“Great job Jane.” Lisbon is wearing that usual exasperated expression.

Jane is still speechless.

“Jane? Jane!”

He jumps back into reality, looking over at the rest of them slowly.

“Everything okay?”

He nods slowly.

“Everything is fine.” 

[heartsbreaking]

*  ANSWER  TWENTY - ONE  QUESTIONS  ! some questions may be ‘ ??? ‘ instead of answered.

NICKNAME  :  idk dude

REAL  NAME  : nico (i mean its my chosen name if y'all want my legal first name you TWO of my muses have a variation of it if you guess)

ZODIAC  : scorpio

HEIGHT  : 5′4′’

WHAT  TIME  IS  IT  ?  : 5:55pm

FAVOURITE  MUSICIANS  /  GROUPS  : arctic monkeys, olivia rodrigo, taylor swift, chappell roan, rafaella, sabrina carpenter, maisie peters idk dude i've really been vibin with girly pop pop recently but then i'll have days where i only listen to rock or musical theater

FAVOURITE  SPORTS  TEAM  : no <3

OTHER  BLOGS  : yes a few :))) they are listed in my site

DO  I  GET  ASKS  ?  : occasionally

HOW  MANY  BLOGS  DO  I  FOLLOW  ?  : 271

ANY  TUMBLR  CRUSHES  : i have a parasocial relationship to my mutuals

LUCKY  NUMBER  : 13

WHAT  AM  I  WEARING  RIGHT  NOW  : yellow shirt and my house sweatpants babyyee

DREAM  VACATION  : rn i just wanna spend a month doing nerd shit around greece or italy alone or with the friends i do not have but yearn for

DREAM  CAR  : i dream of functional public transportation

FAVOURITE  FOOD  : rn rice in all it's forms is really hitting

DRINK  OF  CHOICE  :matcha lemonade or coffee

LANGUAGES  :  english, used to be semi fluent in spanish but have lost a lot of it since i stopped speaking regularly, a little french, a little latin

INSTRUMENTS  : guitar (mediocre), bass guitar (also mediocre but slightly less mediocre than i expected considering i picked it up this summer)

CELEBRITY  CRUSHES  : melissa barrera, kathryn newton, aaron taylor johnson, madelyn cline, madison bailey, oliver stark...dude the list goes on and on i'm incredibly bi.

RANDOM  FACT  : i cannot be allowed on ebay dot com or i buy american girl dolls.

i stole it from @gingerspiice

[heartsbreaking-migrated]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

what made you pick up the muse you have? i have impulse control issues so two multis is better and more feasible than 160+ blogs. i like the freedom of being able to add and drop muses as i please and explore everything.

is there anything you don’t like to write? i'll write pretty much any subject or genre within reason but what i don't usually write?? men 😂 i tend to lose interest in writing them pretty quickly so i don't have a lot of male muses cause i just can't promise i'll keep them

is there anything you really enjoy writing? i love angst and unfortunately i really love spicy, unhealthy dynamics. anything where i really have to think and challenge myself as a writer

how do you come up with your headcanons?  dreams, delierum right before bed and instagram mostly (and also watching movies n shit)

do you write in silence or do you play music? usually i listen to music or youtube videos but i am fully capable of writing in silence and sometimes i need to to get anything done

do you plan your replies or wing them? usually i wing replies, but some of my best replies are written mentally while i'm brushing my teeth i've realized

do you enjoy shipping? i do! most of my rp experience before transferring to tumblr i didn't get the chance to write ships and i always felt left out on that front and sometimes i still do but it's still so new and fun and special to me. i love exploring romantic dynamics when there's room for it

what’s your alias/name?  nico !

age?  22 !

birthday?  october 28

favorite color?  maroon and yellow

favorite song?  rn probably rowan by raffaella

last movie you watched?  dirty dancing (and i fucking loved it)

last show you watched?  the x-files

last song you listened to?  bardot by raffaella

favorite food?  tacos

favorite season?  fall! especially late october

do you have a tumblr best friend?  i talk to @fyrewalks @razorfst and @loneewolfe pretty much every day and if i don't i genuinely feel like something is missing from my life

tagged by : @selfregard tagging: @loneewolfe , @fyrewalks , @razorfst , @livedtough @unsnare + VIEWERS LIKE YOU!

[bodhrancomedy]

Some Writing: My Favourite Scene So Far (Sixsmith my beloved)

The night had closed in as he stepped into what was ostensibly the lavatory.

It was an alleyway with some crates tastefully arranged into some modicum of privacy, a small lantern lit over the door. It reeked. Obviously, many of its visitors were beyond aiming once they stumbled onto the scene.

Holding his breath, Sixsmith picked his way to the drain – helpfully labelled in glowing white paint – selected a conveniently eye-level brick to become suddenly fascinated with and proceeded about his business.

Just as he had committed every red crack to memory, something round and very cold pressed against the back of his neck.

He froze.

“Hello, doc. Thought we said not to wander off anymore.”

Fuck.

Somehow, his voice didn’t shake even as his heart landed somewhere around his ankles. “Carter.”

He could picture Carter’s smirk and heard someone else snigger. Two of them then. As much as he had enjoyed it, antagonising the man last night had probably not been one of his better ideas.

Neither was kicking him in the crotch, but he felt that was a crime of which the universe would absolve him.

Carter, however, would not.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“What, right now?”

An awkward almost-silence followed.

“… No, you can finish what you’re doing.”

“Very kind of you.”

The gun at his neck didn’t move an inch. His thoughts raced; plans flicked up like cards in a game and were abandoned just as quickly. If he ran now, they’d catch him. Worse than that, they’d make sure he couldn’t do that again. Fighting wasn’t an option. He’d rather go toe-to-toe with a locomotive.  

He took as much time as he dared, wondering if anyone would hear him if he shouted, wondering how exactly they were planning to get him back to the tavern. If, of course, that was where they were going. They could have shot him in the head and been five streets away by the time the echoes died. There had to be some kind of transport, right? A cart or carriage of some sort – unless they were planning on marching him several streets.

And he wondered why.

Finally, Sixsmith turned around. The gun was so close he had to go cross-eyed to keep it in his vision – a battered-looking thing with a fat bullet chamber and most of the paint scratched off on one side. Carter jabbed it at him while his companion – a stout, grinning man armed with a cutlass who he didn’t know – fished in his pockets for something.

Hesitantly, he raised his hands and tried a smile. “Miss me already?”

The door was less than ten steps away, six or seven at a dash.

But they were going to be faster. Not smarter. Carter was a bully. He thought with his fists.

“Not really,” Carter said coolly, “There’s plenty of sawbones hanging around. Just need to dip into the nearest alley.”

Sixsmith widened his eyes as innocently as he could. “Why don’t you bugger off and do that then?”

The crack of his head striking the wall was gunshot-loud, a white flash blinding him. His legs buckled and the only reason he didn’t fall was the hand around his throat, pinning him against the damp brick. The gun pressed against his cheek.

Sixsmith tried to swallow.  Now was the time for panicking.

“Have you always had a smart mouth?” Carter asked mildly.

He managed to shrug.

“How are you still alive?”

“Luck,” he croaked. The words were getting stuck in his throat, only partly because of the clamp on it. “C’mon, Cart-Carter. Gotta… be – easier pickin’s.”

“Yeah,” Carter said, leaning in. His breath misted unpleasantly over Sixsmith’s ear, “Not many of ‘em owe us. And –“ his tone suddenly became upbeat – “have an opportunity to pay us back.”

His lungs were glass. Breathing would shatter him.

“What…?”

“A hundred pounds,” Carter murmured, “That’s your debt repaid thrice. With interest.”

Stout grabbed his hands, wrapping twine around his wrists. The rasp shocked him back to life. Sixsmith went to yank his hands back, only for the pressure to increase around his throat.

It’d been a bloody gamble and he’d lost.

Wait.

An idea struck him. Not a good idea, but it was better than another head injury. Carefully, Sixsmith let his body fold inwards and tried to look like he’d given up.

Carter was looking at him suspiciously, but he let go. Sixsmith inhaled deeply, wincing at the dizziness which came with air. Bound hands weren’t ideal, but he’d worked with worse odds before. Admittedly, that’d been ten years and several injuries ago, but the principle of the thing wasn’t hugely different.

At least, Sixsmith hoped it wasn’t.

As the two brawlers each gripped an arm and began to march him towards the street, he managed, “Wait, wait, whoa, whoa, wait!”

“What?” Carter growled.

“Listen, listen. You like bets, right? ‘Course you do.” Digging his heels into the ground and fumbling in his pocket – hard to do with one half-working hand and another one quickly going numb – Sixsmith mined a penny from his pocket.

Stout laughed. “A penny won’t cut it, doc.”

Sixsmith shook his head and – somehow – rolled the penny across his knuckles. “C’mon. Just a wager. Indulge me.”

“You’re stalling,” Carter sneered.

“Aye, well, obviously, but c’mon.” He proffered the coin and hurried on, “I flip this coin. Heads, I go with you – no fuss or nuthin’. Tails –“

“We let you go?” Stout smirked, “Not for a hundred pounds.”

“No, no, tails – same story, right?” He tried not to look over at the door, kept his gaze focused on the smaller man. “But if it lands on its edge… I get a ten-minute head start.”

It didn’t appear to be landing, but they’d stopped. Surely, Emmett or someone would be coming to investigate his disappearance…

“On its edge?” Stout broke first. He was scowling in concentration, glaring at Sixsmith’s hands.

He grinned. “On its edge. Ten minutes. C’mon, what d’ya lose?”

Carter appeared to be thinking deeply; Sixsmith could almost see the wheels turning.  Maybe he should’ve bargained for more time – made it less obviously appealingly one-sided. Stout seemed invested enough, quick glances flickering between his compatriot and prisoner.

He held his breath.

Finally, Carter shrugged. “Five.”

Spreading his hands as far as they’d go – not far at all, Shades besides, the twine was tight – Sixsmith repeated, “Five. Five is fine.”

“And if you make a peep on the way, I’ll break your jaw.”

He accepted this with a quick shake of the shoulders and tried to keep his adrenaline tamped down. Far more smoothly than he thought possible, he worked the coin into position, inhaled, and then flipped it into the air.

It spun, a silver glint caught by the solitary lantern, glittering as it reached the pinnacle of its arc and…

Sixsmith smashed his foot into the side of Carter’s knee, shoved him off-balance into Stout, and bolted.

He hit the door, seized the handle in both hands and yanked it open. Light blinded him as he stumbled over the threshold. A hand brushed his shirt as he turned to grab the inner doorknob, fingers snagging in the front of his collar. Gasping, Sixsmith slammed the door closed – earning a shrill “Fuck-bitch!” – and then leapt back as it was ripped from his hands. He backpedalled desperately, dodged a swing from Carter, tripped over an uneven floorboard, and went down hard on his side, winded. Carter grasped his trouser leg, tearing the fabric, and Sixsmith twisted, lashing out. His foot struck bone – Carter’s cheek – and he was released.

Scrambling to his feet, still scrabbling towards the bar, he forced his lungs to fill, and yelled, “Emmett! Help!”

[supernovafreaks]

THE MAIN CAST!

NOVA: Our dashing protagonist! A demigoddess of the stars with a rebellious streak and an appetite for fun and adventure. Having an extremely lavish upbringing, Nova soon learns that living in the real world is no cakewalk! She’ll run into a situation where she’s way in over her head and she'll get far too cocky for her own good and wind up making things worse for herself and everybody, sometimes succeeding at a task by complete accident. Even though she was raised by royalty, Nova tends to be a pretty crass and vulgar girl whose inflated ego likes getting her into fights over something as small as the last piece of sushi. She's determined (or just stubborn and naive enough) to stop at nothing to regain queendom and show the Great Galactic Guild who's boss! Or maybe, deep down, she actually wants something more and doesn't even know it yet!

BECCA: Nova's most trusted friend (and eventual girlfriend) hailing from the slums of Neo Neopolis. Having years of experience from secretly being in a ruthless gang to get money to support her struggling family, Becca uses her street smarts and her mighty fisticuffs to get herself and Nova out of any hairy situation they may get into. Despite her rugged exterior and muscles that can pulverize your skull in one karate chop to the cranium, Becca tends to be a kind and gentle soul who wants nothing but the best for those she holds dear, occasionally to a fault. One evening, Becca decided to visit her parents to confess her secret, only to find that they were kidnapped by rival hoodlums! Becca, having lost nearly everything close to her, decides to join Nova on her quest not only to help her out but to rescue her family as well!

ISAAC: A manic young college dropout who runs an electronics repair shop in his cramped studio apartment. When he’s not guzzling energy drinks and scoring #1 victory royales, he uses whatever tech skills he has to make cool gadgets for the team, often using illegally obtained parts from shady folk. Isaac has a remarkable talent for bargaining with others to get really expensive, often untested parts for dirt cheap. Sometimes he even trades in old broken game console parts to fool the unfortunate buyer into thinking they can make plastic explosives with them. Isaac has made COUNTLESS enemies this way.  He tags along with Nova and the crew because he believes that Nova’s cosmic powers can help out the planet’s energy crisis and ward pesky otherworldly critters away. He kinda also has a big crush on Nova’s mom.

MUZZLE: A robotic dragon with a short fuse and a seemingly infinite assortment of weapons! Muzzle was destined to become a useless pile of scrap metal after running away from his abusive creator. But then Nova and Becca totalled a stolen car after making a jump into the junkyard. Instead of barbecuing them alive, the girls offer to fix him up and eventually get the parts to turn him into a cool battle mech, which is where Isaac comes in. Nothing brings this mechanical monster more joy than blowing shit up and unleashing absolute hell upon everyone. However, the squad usually has to calm him down before he goes full psychopath. He's also glad to fly Nova and the others through the cosmos with style and grace thanks to his experimental lightspeed warp drive that Isaac downloaded from the dark web.

QUASARIA: Nova's caring mother and former queen of the Star Weavers. An absolute sweetheart to everyone she encounters! However, her parenting skills could use a bit of work, as she shows a bit more favoritism towards Nova, seeing a bit more of herself in her than older sister Lyra, who feels ignored and rejected. The wrongful death of her husband also doesn’t help much, causing her to gradually let herself go and fall into a space alcohol induced depression. After Nova’s exile, she sets off on a journey of her own to see if Nova’s okay and learns to become a better parent in the process!

[ILLUSTRATION MISSING]

PULSARIS: A lost soul wandering through space who found Nova one night after she got her first celestial relic. He doesn't remember where he came from or what his purpose is, but he gains a bit of a symbiotic relationship with Nova and acts as her guide and father figure throughout her adventure. Only Nova can see him which leads to some pretty awkward moments where Nova shouts into the void. Along with the relics aiding Nova, they also help Pulsaris regain his memory and life force.

[ILLUSTRATION MISSING]

LYRA: Nova's uptight older sister who got crowned as the new queen of the Star Weavers by default due to Nova's exile. She's basically the antithesis of everything Nova is. Responsible, mature and always having good manners. Lyra takes her position seriously but has a hard time standing up to authority, often giving in to the Great Galactic Guild's ludicrous demands. Poor Lyra got the short end of the stick as Quasaria always favored Nova so Lyra relied on outside sources to train.

ACHERNAR: Our devious antagonist! She was once a low ranking Star Weaver. Tired of being seen as average and insignificant, she set out to obtain relics that would give her true power and the same amount of respect as Quasaria! But she ended up toying with stuff beyond her comprehension and got corrupted by relics made of dark matter, giving her a monstrous new appearance! Which she takes absolute pride in, of course. Having learned to control the chaotic material that could very well consume her entire being, Achernar set off on a petty revenge quest to chase Nova and the gang around to obtain the Celestial Relics before they do so she can call our heroes stinky poopoo heads and commandeer her own demented Star Weaver army that will bring chaos upon the universe!

[REDACTED]: Having been sealed away in an impenetrable barrier by the Star Weavers eons ago, this indescribable horror lures Achernar over promising to grant her any of her deepest wishes and desires as long as she promises to fetch it as many relics it needs to make her dreams a reality. Achernar, too stubborn to realize that this is obviously a trap, foolishly accepts its offer. Near the end of the story, Achernar gives it all the relics it needs and predictably backstabs her and breaks free from its prison, going on a rampage to destroy and consume every single bit of matter in the universe until absolutely nothing remains but a dark, endless void! Nova and Achy must call a truce and let bygones be bygones to put a stop to this apocalyptic, universe ending scenario!

Thanks for coming to my ted talk! More updates to come in the future!

[mintymelty]

YHS: A Serialization [] 4. The Undertaking- Actually-Doing-It Phase

⚠️WARNING! This episode contains uncensored cursing, threats of violence and weapons! (No graphic violence, tho)⚠️

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It’s been fifteen minutes since lunch started. I’m currently hiding out in the girl’s restroom plotting a new way in. Why? The coach walked out and (get this) LOCKED BOTH THE BOYS AND GIRLS LOCKER ROOM.

💙: (Crap! There goes plan A.)

I should have seen this coming. Yamada High doesn’t seem like the type of school to just let their precious locker rooms be potentially vandalized. Unlike my old schools.

Argh! Why is it so cold in here all of a sudden! It’s like…

The vents are loose…

Well, I could use the toilet seat as a step-stool. What’s the worst that could happen?

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

💙: (OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH I’M GONNA FREEZE TO DEATH.)

💙: (WHYYYYY did I think this was a good idea?? It’s so cramped and wet and dark and gross-)

💙:(Whatever, 50 dollars is 50 doll-)

❓: “.. ᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ⁻“

💙: (Oh! Is that… the nerd from P.E.?)

💙: (Is he in the showers? Am I close?)

❗️: “Don’t bother. If you won’t tell me where the pendant is-“

💙: (…And Austin? He wants the pendant too?!)

❗️: “I’ll cut it out of you.”

💙: (Oh…shit! I have to do something!)

🖤: “Stay back! Get away from me-“

💙: (Uh.. is there any way i could.. drop something??)

🖤: “I don’t know where the pendant is! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

💙: (Crapcrapcrap there’s gotta be a something I could hit Austin with-)

❗️: “You can’t even keep track of your own pendant?”

🖤: “It was a gift- I didn’t know it was that important to you-“

❗️: “I don’t give a fuck about that stupid piece of plastic, it’s about what inside-“

*THWACK!*

❗️: “Agh! my head-“

◁◁ ► ▷▷

I did it! I pulled out some screws in a vent opening and threw that thing at Austin! Squeaky footsteps followed and Kai dashed out of the stall (that’s why he couldn’t just run away- they were both in a bathroom stall) and it seems like Austin gave up the chase- for now.

❗️: “Whatever, I need some ice. Don’t wanna be out of commission for training.”

…Y’know it’s hard to believe that a monster that would’ve stabbed a kid can just go about their day like nothing happened. Scary.

Anyways! I’m pretty sure the showers are empty now. Time to find the pendant!

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

💙: “Where is it? I’ve been looking everywhere- did she-“

💙: “There you are! Come to mama-“

❤️: “Are you lost?”

💙: “ArE yOu lOst babY gIrl- OH MY GOSH you’re actually there-“

Standing right behind me was some emo-looking dude wearing a hoodie. His hair was an unnatural shade of red and looked like it needed to be brushed. I really need to work on my street-smart game.

❤️: “…are you looking for something?”

💙: “Ummm…. yeah! I kinda like… don’t know where the girl’s restroom is-“

❤️: “Well it’s not here. Get out and take a left. It’s right next door. Not sure how you’d miss the sign.”

💙: “… O.K.! Thank you, kind stranger-“

💙: “…And he left.”

💙: (More like weird stranger.)

◁◁ ► ▷▷

The locket is… odd. For something Olivia was willing to pay 50 dollars for, it was almost comical how cheap it was. For starters, it’s made of plastic. And so is the “gem”.

Not to mention the weird snake symbol on the back…

Oh well! 50 dollars is 50 dollars! The day’s pretty much over, anyways.

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