#Here is the heavily cut edit.

[duskerot]

she will be REAL

(og face plate is from the 2022 snow mi//ku nendo ^^

the original body is from uhh a figure of nya/nners ??? dont know rly much about who that is but its the closest outfit to something shed wear. gonna have to cut off a lot of accessories haha. u can see the outfit im remaking in my pfp too actually

this hair is listed as riri ?? dunno who that is either but for sourcing reasons. she actually has a big ponytail im gonna cut entirely off and then use milliput to add some like. Hair bits. I think. ^-^ yippee

[nenoname]

It's still interesting that TBoB called more attention to Stan's control over his mindscape (And if you go with the interpretation that the lost pages are partial truths that are heavily influenced by Bill, then he's the one insisting that only someone with training should be able to have that much control over the mind.)

Meanwhile we have a memory!Stan. Someone who apparently knows too much and is rather aware for being a simple memory.

From the Wheel of Shame, we know Bill was able dig up all kinds of dirt on Stan but... that wasn't why he was there in the first place, was it?

Bill couldn't find the code immediately despite a memory of Stan opening the safe being a few hours old at most and decided to have Mabel try find it for him (The original concept of the ep had it far more hidden but this was likely cut because of time constraints)

Ford did experiments on Stan's mind which likely meant using Project Mentem and actually looking around his mindscape, and his only reaction was to comment on his jokes-- despite what little we the audience know being enough to render us sobbing wrecks

(yes I refuse to shut up about this part cos the book's intro is extremely underrated)

Stan was able to replace his memories of Ford with the swingset instead and managed to hide Ford in his Bar Mitzvah memory. And that's not even mentioning the lack of visible Portal and Stan o' War which noticeably show up in Ford's dreamscape (the broken swingset manifesting anyway pains me tho)

He subconsciously has misdirects for his secrets that are both silly and manages to disturb everyone too

And while Bill-as-Soos being bored by the vending machine memory is a joke that's basically the crew's way of going "hey remember the thing way back in the first ep that's going to show up in the next one?" and in-universe appears to be Stan slipping up, it's interesting that they had Stan input the wrong code when it's consistent literally every other time its inputted (especially when it shows up correctly in the very next episode)

It's even possible that the safe code that Bill found could have been a misdirect too but we'll never know since the safe got blown open by dynamite.

Stan was able to buy time by making his mind blank despite being genuinely terrified when Bill enters his mind (to the point that he breaks character and uses his own voice to yell), and could conjure up his living room (in colour opposed to his mind's regular greyscale) to make sure Bill didn't have enough room to flee, slamming the door in his face before the effects of the memory gun kicked in.

(EDIT: Random door analysis here)

And maybe the twins eventually told him that Bill had already been inside his mind after their W3 reunion, but all we know was that his conscious self was left in the dark for ages and wasn't really aware of Bill until Weirdmageddon.

TBoB showing McGucket's dreamscape also brings up the idea of the effects of the memory gun manifesting differently to each person. To Stan's mindscape, the memory wipe manifests as blue flames which immediately brings to mind Bill's powers but it's a far lighter shade (maybe to more closely match the memory gun and its eventual fade to white?)

The end of TBoB and the website poem also firmly reminds us about Stan's connection to fire but there's also the question if Stan himself is actually aware of it...

[redflagshipwriter]

Snitches the cat and his favorite bat

I wrote up dpxdc fics based off of prompts I happened to see in the last day to add to the reading pile for anyone who didn't prep for the archive down time today.

EDIT

The idea for Danny as a cat came from @shycorvid, thank you so much for correcting me and letting me play in your sandbox!

Snitches the cat comes from @garbagewith-a-cherryontop (I think??? I couldn't find a definite first post!) but the fantastic linked post is the one with how I think Snitches the cat looks here.

Word count is 1053.

Tumblr reference

masterpost for my AO3 downtime fics

“Ugh- that's not- did we just summon a demon cat?”

“It's so messed up looking. Ew.”

Danny blinked and swayed on his feet. He'd had a tail a minute ago, speeding across the GZ to check in on Walker. There had been an unpleasant lurch in his stomach. And now he was on his feet. All four of them.

Wait, what?

“You fucked this up.”

His ears twitched at the sound of a slap. Danny swiveled towards the sound and then got distracted by the feeling of his ears swiveling back. Whaaaaat?

He looked down at his precious little feeties. They were adorable paws.

“Oh, you motherfuckers,” he said. It came out as a conversational yowl.

The humans looked at him from about ten feet away and five feet up. “Annoying…”

He was pretty sure they were high schoolers. There were five of them, two girls and three boys. They were all bigger than him. High schoolers were usually bigger than he was, but this was just ridiculous.

“Count yourself lucky, dimwits,” one of the older kids said. He took a step towards Danny. Danny pressed his ears flat against his head and hissed at the approach. “If you managed to sacrifice Patches to a demon, your Mom would straight up murder you.” He laughed when he said it, like anything about that was remotely funny.

Uh- what now?

Only now, Danny noticed a very distressed calico cat underneath a laundry basket on the other side of the room. There was a stack of textbooks weighing the basket down. A large rug had been rolled up and- he sneezed rapidly, eyes watering. Chalk! They'd drawn on the floor with chalk!

‘This is some incompetent summoning,’ Danny realized, way too late. ‘Did they- how did they turn me into a cat?’ He looked at his unfortunate brethren under the laundry basket. Her ears were flat against her skull and she looked scared.

He remembered the word “sacrifice” and his blood flushed hit with fury. They'd wanted him to eat her! They'd wanted something to eat miss Patches!

The teenagers froze and looked at him, aghast at the angry sounds that were coming out of his throat.

“Shut up!” One hissed. She took off her shoe and threw it at him. Danny dodged and then threw his head back to yowl even louder. Sonic attack! Aural damage, you big jerks!

“The neighbors are going to- make it shut up!”

Danny had to run, dashing over furniture and tearing his way across a crowded table to avoid being grabbed. He screamed the whole time, eager to alert whoever they were so afraid of. Someone should see!

The window burst in.

Danny stopped running, shocked. He hadn't actually expected-

Someone snatched him up from behind and smacked him on the face with a palm. His jaw exploded with pain. It cut off his yowling.

Stunned. He was still for a moment and then he struggled for his life. The grip on his ribs was way too tight-

He looked over at the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath. Holy shit, that was bomb as hell. His eyes went wide at the sight of a heavily armored small child crouched on the windowsill. The boy's eyes were covered, but Danny could still see him look at Danny and the poor calico under the laundry basket. He sneered.

“Unhand the cat or lose your hands at the wrist, you wretch.”

Danny loved him.

The teenager dropped him. Danny caught himself with a stumble. He let out a sad mraow before he could stop himself.

Fight club baby was enraged. “What have you done to this animal?” He hopped down into the room, revealing he was at least a foot shorter than the smallest girl in the room.

Danny trotted to him and started winding around his ankles admiringly. What a good kid! He purred.

“I will be taking both of your cats with me. If you ever harm an animal again, it will be your head that is found in a chalk-”

“Robin.” A hugeass grown man squeezed himself through the window that the kid had broken. Danny craned his head up, up, up, to see him case the joint.

The older man radiated incredible judgment. “I see that you require education on animal welfare and demonic summoning. Go on, Robin.”

“That's my Mom's cat!” One of the teenagers protested. “You can't take her!”

Robin growled at her. Danny jumped in his skin at the sound.

“Then we shall return it to your Mother and her alone, when we explain what you've done.” Danny let murder baby scoop him up and purred at full volume. Hell yeah. He looked at the cowering teenagers with condescension.

“Not that fugly thing.”

Danny blinked. He ended up making an inquisitive mraow. Why was a finger being pointed at him? He was baby.

“That thing showed up, you can get rid of it. But Patches is Mom's cat, and you can't steal a cat because-”

“Batman can steal any cat!” Robin bit out, gathered up Patches, and jumped out the window with both cats in an expert grip.

That didn't sound right, but Danny just enjoyed the night air as a line pulled Robin up to where yet another masked vigilante was waiting, cackling himself to tears.

“Batman can steal any cat,” he wheezed. “Brilliant. Good detour, Robin. Can I hold one?” He held out his blue-striped palms expectantly.

He faltered when he saw Danny, visibly surprised.

Danny… was starting to feel bad. He curled into Robin, hurt. He wasn't ugly. Why did people keep reacting to him weird?

“No,” Robin said curtly. “You have damaged his pride, and Patches is still reeling from her shock.”

The man let out a sigh but let the topic go. “That's Patches, and this is…?”

Robin hesitated. “He is the Snitch.”

That unlocked cooing. “Snitches? Snitchy Snitch Sni- ow!”

Danny snapped at the hand that came way too close and he let out a warning growl. No baby talk!

Robin seemed very pleased. He rubbed behind Danny's ears. “Snitch… I suppose that Snitches will suffice. We are taking him home.”

“....Maybe, just for fun, we should take him to get treated for mange first!” The guy made jazz hands to go with his statement.

Robin and Danny both growled that time.

[tadc-harlequin-au]

"Greetings. Please, do enjoy your read, with the official Masterpost of..."

The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin AU!

Looking for this AU's game counterpart? You can go to The Souls-like AU Masterpost for that!

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INTRO ANIMATIC:

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The long-awaited official masterpost of the Harlequin AU is now here! You'll find everything there is to know about the AU, all in here.

Please note that all of it is still a WIP! And this is NOT an RP blog! ══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

CHARACTER ROSTERS & DESC.!

Main Cast:

Supporting Cast:

"The names have the link to the full character biography attached to them. Please note that some aspects of it are still incomplete, (or may even be outdated) for story purposes."

Pomni, The Last Harlequin: |•| Caine, The Puppetmaster:

Coming soon!

Ragatha Azureus, Jax Jackson Jackrabbit, The Artifact Collector: The Mischievous Trickster Automaton:

Lady Gangle, The Bashful Slithery Chronicler:

Z, The No-nonsense Housesmith:

Kingr, The Helpful King:

BOSS ROSTERS, OFFICIAL STORY/LORE SNIPPETS, NON-CANON TIDBITS and FAQs BELOW THE CUT!

══════☸☸☸════════════☸☸☸══════

BOSS ROSTERS:

The Lady of Forgotten Memories |•| The Skirmish General |•| The Last Formidable, Imposing Structure |•| The Mischievous Trickster Automaton |•| The Maddened Princess of the Theater |•| Bladed Beast of Steel and Shadows |•| The Pierrot of the Carnival Funhouse |•| The Celestial Twin Entertainers |•| Bandits of the Confectionary Highlands |•| Former Warden of the Labyrinth |•| Overlooker of the Confectionary Highlands |•| The Abstraction |•| Duchess of the Mildenhall Cliff's edge House |•| Proud Queen of the Gatherers |•| The Patriarch of Puppets |•|

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OFFICIAL STORY:

"Thrilling Order Of The Hunt" comic |•| Stalemate (fic) |•| Touch-Starved (Post-boss!Ragatha)

OFFICIAL LORE SNIPPETS:

The Charmer, The Catalyst and The Inventor |•| Memory#1 |•|

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OFFICIAL ARTWORKS:

Coming soon!

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LORE-RELATED ASKS:

You can go here for that!

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NON-CANON:

"Come Back To Me." (showtime, ao3) |•| Cade, The Miracle star (Showtime fankid) |•| Anya, The Little sensitive Poppet (Jesterdoll fankid) |•| The Lady of Forgotten Memories' defeat |•| Who Broke It (Harlequin AU edition) |•| The Hole (Harlequin AU edition) |•| "Chandelier" fanart (fanfic, suggestive ⚠️) |•| Morning routines |•| ⚠️The Puppetmaster's Trophy Harlequin (dark themes, nihilistic/no happy ending)⚠️ |•|

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FAQs!

"Now, what exactly is 'The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin' AU?"

Well I'm glad you asked! The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin, or "Harlequin AU" for short, is a grimdark sci-fantasy story about "Puppets", whom are soul-infused robots, trying to regain their lost humanity in a broken world.

It follows Pomni, a short-tempered Combat Harlequin, as she explores the city of Circuits with the aid of Caine, The Puppetmaster.

However, as the story progresses, Pomni not only realizes that there's more to the grand scheme of things as she explores more and more, she also uncovers The Puppetmaster's story, and what secrets he may be hiding.

"How do the boss fights go down in the story?"

Action-packed, fast paced, involves a lot of dying on Pomni's part.

Even though this is inspired by a Souls-like, the boss fights go down more so like a mixture between Cuphead, Shadow of the Colossus, and God of War (2018/Raganarok). Mostly God of War.

"Are there going to be canon ships in this AU?"

Yes! The AU is very Showtime (Caine x Pomni) centric, and some of the story aspects of the AU are heavily surrounded on that. There is a bit of Jesterdoll (Pomni x Ragatha) in it, too.

Aside from these canon ships, all is fair game. The Puppets don't have ages seeing as to how they are robots (and were already adults prior to their conversion), so the possibilities are endless.

"Can I make fanarts/fanfics/make original content for your AU?"

Why, of course you can! In fact, I would REALLY love to see it, as long as it complies with my personal boundaries below. So don't be afraid to tag this blog, or @iamespecter in your posts if you want me to see it!

"What are the boundaries of the AU?"

Go wild! The AU's rating is pretty mature, if it wasn't obvious already for it's grimdark genre.

However... I would like to ask that if you would like to make something dark even for my standards for this AU (i.e non-con or dark kinks), all I ask is that you don't show it to me. I personally do not like it, and do not vibe with it.

"What are your thoughts about NSFW surrounding the AU?"

Suggestive content and NSFW is allowed! I am an adult, and I personally enjoy them. (I think I'll make a blog for the more... spicy things.)

Even I make suggestive content for this AU.

HOWEVER! Please tag it properly with "cw suggestive", "tw suggestive", "tw nsft" and various other tags for people who do not wish to see them, or are minors. I can't keep track of everything try as I might, so it'll be up to you to be a decent person, which I know you will be.

"I don't like showtime, but I find your AU interesting. Will that be a problem?"

For you, it might be. The story leans heavily around Pomni and Caine's relationship as a whole, and I'm sorry. I'm just really soft about them.

"Will this be anything like the original TADC?"

Yesss...? And no...? It takes a lot of creative liberty and inspirations from various medias.

⚠️ This masterpost is still under construction! Please excuse the technical difficulties. ⚠️

In the meantime, I hope you had a fun read nonetheless! Things will get updated overtime. - Ziku/IAmESpecter

[mirroredmemoriez]

A collection of Amanda Young’s outfits (PT 1)

As the title states, this is just all the outfits I can source from Amanda Young from the franchise but also any game adaptation too. This will be broken into parts because of the image limit.

1.) The Reverse Bear Trap (RBT) outfit

One of her most iconic and recognisable fits. She has a purple tank top with matching sleeves to go alongside, presumably kept in place by the pink bands on her upper arms? Amanda in this wears a black skirt with ripped fish nets and kinda shiny boots- Other things include the eye makeup, nail polish and the only time we ever see her have the clawing panther tattoo on her shoulder.

2.) Rockstar outfit

I've generalised this as the ROCKSTAR outfit- Because this specific shirt comes up a few times, not just in that cut scene. It seems there is actually two shirts? The blue graphic one on top and a grey one underneath. Amanda's hair and jackets change! There is the light grey jacket and then the black one and even things like how heavy her makeup is are different... The main place we see this look is when she is setting up Adam for his game. Of course she has boots on as always and I guess I'd call the jeans she has on cuffed? One extra is she has a watch on.

3.) Junkie outfit

BECAUSE I WAS A FUCKING JUNKIE!!! Anyway, with this I had to brighten the image to see what the design on the tank top was... From there I went, ''I think I've seen this before...'' And yeah, I had- Shawnee Smith has worn this logo a few times, so that's why I've added the last two images for a clearer reference. Amanda here looks quite gaunt and sickly and we can't see the rest of this outfit such as trousers.

4.) Visitor outfit

I'll dub this the Visitor outfit because of the badge of course- I would say this likely is Amanda's most simple outfit? Black shirt and skirt. The most striking thing about this look is the RBT scars she has... It's also one of the only times outside of Saw 3 we see Amanda with a ponytail! I can't lie when looking at her hair here, it almost looks two toned in places such as the side burns? Almost grey in parts? (Edit: This may be a dress actually.)

5.) The Red Pig outfit

This is my personal favourite when it comes to her in movie pig looks. She has a red coat/cloak which the length goes all the way down to her boots- Looking there I think the lower half from seeing the cuffed like jeans is probably the exact same as her Rockstar outfit. Her eye makeup is heavily smudged and the mask itself in my opinion is one of the best shaped pig masks, with what seems to be ''blood'' coming out of the eye sockets and black slash brunette hair.

6.) Bow Dress/Clinic outfit

This scene and the follow up is so depressing but she's so cutesy here- It's a simple black dress, but the bow is very Amanda. I have no clue whether the shoes she has on in the first image are actually apart of the outfit or just something Shawnee had on whilst testing it out. 7.) News Report/Scott Tibbs outfit

May be my overall favourite Amanda outfit.... She has on a grey hoodie jacket, possibly another article of clothing from her Rockstar outfit? Her iconic skull sweatpants with a belt and then boots that I would say are more akin to her RBT outfit. I can't really tell if the shirt she has got on is layers or just has different materials- Amanda's RBT scars are also very visible in this look.

8.) Suffocation outfit

At first I started doing these as two separate outfits? One for when she kills Adam, the other for when she wakes up from her nightmare- However, I'm pretty sure this is the same outfit through and through. Amanda has on a long sleeved orange shirt with a grey tanktop over it. The jacket is leather with noticeable silver studs and she has on cargo type trousers and as always... Boots.

9.) Nightmare outfit

Another personal favourite! Once again we get to see the skull pants and this is how I was able to gage the material a bit better. I honestly have no clue how to describe the specific items of clothing she has on her upper half? A corset type shirt going on? Details I enjoy are the safety pins around the shoulder and bottom half and she has a watch on.

10.) Saw X outfit

I decided to not have this pig look separate. Anyway! This is Amanda's most recent outfit with Saw X having come out in 2023.... Simple grey t-shirt alongside cargo trousers with a belt. The boots she's got on are very combat/work like and Amanda also has a black choker and earrings here- Her coat/cloak is black with red detailing such as the cuffs and the inner lining.

[purplealmonds]

This is my tribute to the late Technoblade. I'm well over a week late to the anniversary of his passing, but I think it was worth the wait. I wanted to get this right.

The story I want to tell is of time's passage after his passing, and the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of various aspects of his life depicting that concept.

I have a lot more to say about this painting - three pages just for the symbolism alone. If you're interested, please let me know and I'll share my analysis on a separate post! Edit: I caved. Aight, prepare for a massive info dump below the cut!

DISCLAIMERS:

Although I put a lot of research into this piece, my knowledge is likely flawed and incomplete. If I missed or misinterpreted a reference, it’s because I’m new to the Technoblade community. If I got a symbolism thing wrong, it’s because I relied on Google search for answers. I fact checked where I could. And with this analysis, I hope I can clear up any misinterpretations! 

—

OVERVIEW:

There’s lots of imagery to unpack so I’ll try parsing it in a structured manner. Let’s first examine it holistically. 

The story I want to tell here is of time’s passage after Technoblade’s passing. As such,the set dressing of this space is a symbolic amalgamation of that concept.

Prominently featured are the various medical equipments - a nod to the grim reality of his cancer. But let’s not linger upon that aspect of his story.

Of equal importance are the more mundane objects - his gaming setup, the couch and pillow which Floof sat upon in that one photo, the plethora of paraphernalia of branded merchandise, and references to his exploits in Minecraft. These are relics and mementos of his legacy.

All of these elements intermingle in flooded, lushly overgrown room looking out to a rose-tinted exterior. Is it dawn? Dusk? I’ll leave that interpretation up to the viewers.  

The third and final component is the plant life representing his community -us. We beautify this metaphorical space with where it was once laden with tragedy. Yet, despite these riotous blooms, we never quite encroach on the bed - the empty space left behind by him.

—

SET DRESSING:

Much care was taken in selecting the blossoms and placing them in symbolically significant locations.  And this neatly transitions us into the analysis individual details.

Foreground: 

In the foreground, ivy crawls through a lamp and white clovers thrive atop a pile of pillboxes. The lamp base, once a shining bronze-like finish, is heavily tarnished. The lampshade is overgrown with moss and ivy. Even if the greenery has yet to damage the electric wiring, the damp surely has finished the job. Even if the bulb is replaced, the body is too far gone. The light’s never coming on again. 

I was initially put out that my painstakingly 3D modeled pillboxes became entirely obscured, but I think it works in favor of the piece’s overarching theme: the beautiful wilds overtaking a space that once reeked of the desperate fight to prolong life. 

White clover blossoms meaning “thinking of you” is paired with the ivy meaning “everlasting devotion”.  It’s an apt combination. It has been over a year since his passing, and we still remember and carry on his legacy. 

Nestled amongst the foliage is Techno’s compass. It was once used to hunt him down in the Dream SMP. But now, it’s an odd comfort. Even though he’s no longer with us, he’s still somewhere far, far away– or is he? The original idea was for the needle to point heavenwards, but it is currently pointing…sideways?  I’ll get to the reasoning a bit later. 

The Flood:

Moving deeper into the space, we hit the floodwaters. These once turbulent currents are now tranquil enough to nourish this verdant place. The thriving plant life hides much of this darkness. It is beautiful, hopeful, even. But always bittersweet, because everything that grows here is laced with an old sorrow.

White lotus rise from the murky depths. That is us, overcoming our grief. Breaching the surface, we gain a new vantage point to contemplate this loss. Perhaps we can also find a more comforting perspective of it.

Submerged amongst the blossoms is a rusted oxygen machine. I wanted to decorate the machine with stickers, much like one would personalize a plaster cast for a broken limb. It is deliberate that the “Technoblade Never Dies” sticker is in shadow, while the “So Long, Nerds" is in light. 

Immediately to the right was meant to be a box of assorted Technoblade apparel.  But then I flooded the space for narrative reasons, rendering that idea unusable. I eventually converted it into a Welch’s Fruit Snacks box, because apparently Technoblade liked them? It’s one of the shallower references here but it is what it is.

And finally, there is a little cameo floating somewhere in the waters. An Easter egg, if you will. I wonder if you can find it? 

Furnishings from Home:

I found the couch and Technoblade’s gaming setup during my trawl through the Technoblade Reddit page for reference photos. Balancing this space full of impersonal medical equipment with more personalized belongings is grounding. These areas insert familiarity in this strange environment.

Gaming Setup:

The gaming setup is bare bones - just the monitor, keyboard, and mouse. There was no space to add more iconic elements like his Blue Yeti microphone or the steering wheel from that Minecraft challenge. Hanging above but heavily obscured by overgrowth are two framed pictures of Technoblade’s cabin and a potato minion. It is a blink-and-you-miss-it detail, placed in a dim space and requiring close examining to notice. Without the context of the rest of this environment, it is easily mistaken as generic set dressing. 

That’s the point, though. This was a space where he streamed and created videos much beloved by his community. This space was the means of creation, not the creations themselves. Without the creator at the helm, this setup becomes insignificant. Does one dote over the easel on which paintings were created, or the paintings themselves? So now it sits in darkness, a footnote of Technoblade’s legacy. 

Nostalgia Corner:

On the other end, we have the sold out Youtooz plushies and the Agro Pig plush from the recent merch drop sat atop the couch.  If you look closely, you’ll see a Skeppy coin leaning against one of the plushies. Behind the couch is a shelf. A generic shelf, but the important bits here are the sellout bell, Youtube plaque, and vinyl figurines. 

This corner of the room is nostalgic and soft. Everything is bathed in rosy pink light, and it is filled with things that are comfortingly familiar. All across the world, people in his community have these pieces of merch to remember him by. 

The red poppies that also grow here have multiple meanings. It represents the battle - one against sarcoma - which was fought here. It symbolizes death, but also resilience in the face of grueling conditions. It is said that they grow in former battlefields where of fallen warriors. I believe of all the flowers here, this one best represents Technoblade.

The Hanging Mobile:

Strung up above it is a rather last minute addition to the environment - a hanging mobile fabricated from totems representing each member of the Sleepy Bois Inc. friend group. First and foremost is Technoblade’s iconic MCC crown, aptly placed at the top. Although it is untouched by the greenery, the gold and jewelry are somewhat muted and tarnished by time.

This is not the case for the objects below. TommyInnit’s music disc shines iridiscent green and purple - Cat and Mellohi merged into one. To is right is a sky-blue guitar pick with the LoveJoy logo engraved onto it for Wilbur Soot. And finally, below it all is Philza’s Friendship Emerald - sparkling and refracting light - with Elytra feathers fastened at the bottom. They, suspended and isolated from everything, maintain a pristine vibrancy which strongly contrasts against everything else in this space. 

IV Stand:

Next to the computer setup is the IV stand. It sustains life which is incapable of continuing on without intervention. The butterfly milkweed growing on it, in contrast, says “let me go.” The latter, overtaking the tangle of tubes and powered off patient monitor, is victorious. The hooks stand rusted, and the IV bag empty from disuse.

Sat atop the patient monitor but almost blending into the walls is a pig figurine featured in Dream’s latest music video. It stands on a high perch, yet is unassuming as to direct focus on Technoblade, or rather, his absence. 

Hanging from the wired basket is an air freshener tag. If you look on the official website, this is one of the only products which has what I can only call interesting flavor text. Most are merely descriptions and specs of the product. To quote it verbatim:

“Yes, this is a real product. And no, this ‘air freshener’ has no discernible fragrance. ‘Why’ you ask? Because Mr. Technodad and our team agreed this was exactly the sort of air freshener Alex would have found hilarious.”

As morbid as it sounds, I feel like this air freshener tag would not have existed before Technoblade’s passing. It is so unlike any other merchandise I’ve seen in any other branded merchandise store. It’s like an inside joke, secretly shared within the descriptions for the world to eventually discover. 

Window:

Unlit candles line the window sill - the aftermath of a candlelight vigil. It is a versatile symbol. It raises awareness of a disease or illness. It pays tribute the dead. Judging from the melted wax dribbling down the candle shafts and the wall below (the opacity was reduced so it looks less like bloodstains), this has been done many times over. But there is so much more candle to burn, representing the people still continuing this ceremony, albeit in the privacy of their own homes.

Above the candles are some broken blinds. When grieving, it would have been so easy for Mr. Technodad to hide away from the world in his grief. It’s understandable, to give into that primal urge to flee from prying eyes when he’s at his most vulnerable. He had the difficult task of reading out his son’s final farewell to us. This barrier between him and us dismantled by this gesture so we can remember Technoblade together. 

Coincidentally, the window frame itself somewhat resembles the kitchen window featured in Technoblade and Technodad's cooking videos. Completely unintentional on my end, but fitting in a way since in both those videos they're pulling back the metaphorical curtains for the audience to peer into a small aspect of their private lives.

To the right of the window is a nondescript clock, forever stopped at the 6:30 as a nod to the date when the "So Long, Nerds" video was published. The minute hand is accidentally left out removed to signify that time will no longer move forward for Technoblade. In contrast, the rest of the world - represented by this space - continues to grow and change around his absence.

A wind chime hangs just outside the window. It is said that the soothing sounds produced by them is a healing balm during tumultuous times. Where there is wind there is stirred up emotions, but it is motionless on this calm, breezeless day. A rare respite, where remembrance overrides grief. 

On a more amusing note, there is an interesting looking moth perched on the window glass. Upon closer inspection, the wing pattern may look somewhat familiar. In Chinese culture, when a huge moth visiting your home is the embodiment of your recently deceased loved one checking on you. Remember the compass in the foreground? Well, here’s why it is pointed sideways instead of upwards. This idea came up rather organically during a VC session in the R/Technoblade Discord server. My handful of viewers and myself affectionately dubbed this doofy looking moth TechnoMoff!

Venturing further beyond the windows, ferns grow with wild abandon. They represent eternal youth, and from a certain point of view, he will remain youthful forever at the age of 23. He lives on through us carrying on his legacy and spreading his story. 

Everything outside is tinged with pink. After someone dies, we start seeing them less as a person and more as a legacy. It is the natural course of things to start seeing the deceased through rose-tinted lenses - hence the artificially pink hue of the outside contrasting with the more grounded color palette of the inside. 

Bed:

And now we circle back to the centerpiece of this entire composition: the bed and the things that surround it. 

In front of the bed is an over-bed table with a single object: an incense bowl filled to the brim with burnt sticks of incense. A simple shrine for Technoblade. In Chinese culture, we light incense at the altar to honor our loved ones. We may live separate lives and not cross paths often, but we all come together to leave our marks through this ritual. It is proof that he is still very much loved and missed by us all.

The bariatric bed frame is typically seen in hospitals. It allows the patient to comfortably sit up or recline without expending valuable energy. Encased in this frame is something more personal - the mattress and cushions which Technoblade laid upon in his photo with the Youtube plaque. Their unique patterning is a foil for the impersonal receptacle it is caged in. It is spotlit by the window light, emphasizing its emptiness. Not a single blossom dares to encroach upon this space, because to do so would be to erase the space where Technoblade last resided. Like I mentioned before, this is story is about the space around him as much as it is about him. 

Cradling this bed frame are several flowers. Rosemary and forget-me-not’s for remembrance. Appropriate, given its proximity to the bed. Morning glories, for resilience. That’s us, again. For a while, we meander and spread in the upper walls of this space, avoiding the floodwaters which symbolize grief. But eventually, we gather the strength to meander down to the bed, where grief was the strongest.

—

CONCLUSION:

There is that cheesy quote from that one Marvel TV show – “What is grief, but love persevering?” While this reframes our perception of dealing with loss, grief is not some thing that should linger. The absence of grief does not equate to the lack of love. Instead, I would like you to consider this: remembrance is love persevering. And with our combined perseverance, Technoblade will never truly die. 

[sentientstump]

The big "Big Salmon Wood™" animatic thing!

finished this really rough looking blob slideshow from before LOL <- look here if you want to see from what state i had to polish it (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠).......

audio origin: docm77 hermitcraft s.10, ep.5 from 4:00 to 8:30 (heavily cut here)

here I'll describe what steps were made in order to birth this:

• watch a new VintageBeef's video at night and laugh the butt off

• decide to animate it because its really funny

• try to choose from which POV to take audio from

• decide to choose Doc's because he had silly music and he doesn't cut that much

• download audio file using a NewPipe feature

• edit and cut the audio in Flipaclip

• put FPS to 1

• draw blobs, indicate placement and expressions

• render the file and upload it to tumblr to see if its a funny concept

• forget about it (have in the back of your mind but being kinda avoidant)

• start drafting a more anatomy accurate version, still on 1 FPS

• go crazy bc they look so off

• go normal bc its just a draft

• finish the draft and be proudd

• forget to polish it (and be avoidant again)

• summer 2024 will end in 2 weeks, try to speedrun the polish before final year in uni starts

• fail to do so, lose motivation

• pick it up on boring classes

• be tired from new job

• have a free friday to finish it in 3 hours

• delete double frames, transfer all frames to Alight Motion to tweak timings

• unbox the zip file and have all frames be shown in random order in editing app's gallery (i have hate in my heart)

• solve a jigsaw puzzle of trying to find when each frame goes after another

• be proud you tweaked it all!

• find out you put the editing file into a wrong aspect ratio instead of 16:9

• cuss everyone around, including an open background video

• render the wrong ratio, open a new correct file and scale the rendered video to fit in, render THIS file

• upload it on tunblr, profit👍🏼

favourite frames:

i dont want to tweak it all anymore, faces or hair or expressions, im done, if i dont care about it then no one care 😤 you get what you get

[transformers-synergize]

TF Synergized master post

Things are always getting added to the master post, Transformed Synergized is written and illustrated by @kray-zay co-written and edited by @hazydaisyislazy

comic

ch1 pages 1-29 ch1 pages 30-45 ch2 pages 1-5 ch2 page 6-10 ch2 page 11-15 ch2 page 16-20 ch2 page 21-26 ch2 page 27-30 ch2 page 31-36 ch2 page 37-40 ch2 page 41-48 ch2 page 49-53 ch2 page 54-60 ch2 page 61-66 ch2 page 67-71 ch2 page 72-75 ch2 page 76-79

ref images

Prowl Hound Cliffjumper Red Alert Smokescreen Wheeljack Moonracer Tracks Sunstreacker and Sideswipe main humans (Spike, Sparkplug, Raoul, Carly, Chip) Ransack if a character ref is not listed here, they were either cut, will show up at a later point, or the design and original role have been heavily changed do not go off old ref images not linked on the master post, some of the characters in the Autobot old lineup I posted are now canonically dead before the story even starts

cybertronian lore

cybertronian noises optic color lore cybertronian diet cybertronian gender (or lack there of) cybertronians proboscis Wheeljacks jaw holoforms? energon effect on organics? flyer and seeker lore cybertonian lifespan more cybertronain lifespan stuff and some seeker stuff cybertronain body laugue and optic exprsions how bug like? bot sizing rules basics on cybertronain cords Lore not on the master post is likely out of date.

story stuff

main human ages when does synergized take place the war ark built for, and its pincers what are the bots looking for? are their any ocs? they/them

project related

voice claims/ VA headcanons? what age range is synergized intended for main character? Will my fav show up? all the bots kinda look like bugs? fanart?

uncompressed pages https://transformers-synergize.thecomicseries.com/comics/1/#content-start

help support the project coming soon... discord https://discord.gg/kf5KWH9qbU discord is 18+ sfw

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

check the tags of some of these posts to get a lil extra info

[bbydoll18xx]

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Pt 3)

Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader

Read parts 1 and 2 here: Part 1 Part 2

Part 3 based on this request: 

Could you do a Paige x media team reader. Where Paige and reader are fake dating because Azzi is uncomfortable with the fans shipping her and Paige. Reader does it cus she owes Paige a favor (you can make something up).

Word Count: 1.9k

Hey everyone! Due to popular demand, here is part 3! This part is more angsty and is heavily inspired by my personal anthem 'The Bolter' by Taylor Swift (she really is my muse these days lol)

I hope you enjoy!

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

You wake up the next morning with sunlight streaming through the windows and a warm blonde cuddled into your neck. Paige is close, so close to you, and you can feel the tangled mess of the both of your legs underneath the blankets. 

It feels a little too perfect, and before you can begin to enjoy Paige’s sleepy affection, a wave of anxiety washes over you. It envelops you; a dark hood pulled over your head and blinding you from seeing the light that was Paige. 

Your chest begins to rise and fall in staccato breaths, and your labored breathing causes Paige to stir. She sleepily looks at you with a small smile. You had always loved the way she looked in the morning; her hair splayed over the pillows and her warmth beckoning to you, threatening to keep you in bed forever. 

Her voice is still husky with sleep, and it rouses you from your slumberous contemplations. “Mornin’ baby.” 

Hiding your blush in the soft blankets, you reply back shyly, “Hi, P.” Her gaze is heated, and it makes every nerve light up with warning signs. The whole situation was paradoxical, and you found yourself wanting to swim in her presence and run for the hills, simultaneously. 

Fighting the urge to jump from the bed and leave without turning back, you snuggle back into Paige’s arms, eliciting content moans from the both of you. 

You stay like that for a while, until a loud grumble from Paige’s stomach cuts through the silence, causing you both to giggle. 

You stumble out of Paige’s bed, reluctant to leave the cocoon of safety and warmth, in search of breakfast. You both sit at the small kitchen table with bagels in front of you, slightly overlooked in favor of your phones. You are scrolling Twitter, while Paige is on tiktok, and you periodically show each other if you see something particularly funny. The public is going wild over your little display at the bar last night. There are already edits galore, and it fucking terrifies you. 

Paige’s eyes are glued to the screen of her phone, and her stony face gives you no glimpse of what she is actually thinking. Until you see her bite her bottom lip, and she darts her tongue out to swipe across it. It brings some blood to your cheeks, and your head feels fuzzy. 12 hours ago you were the one sinking your teeth into the pillowy flesh of her bottom lip, and here you sat across from her, wondering if you’d ever be able to again. 

The questions in your mind have you wanting to bound away once more, and you grip the edge of the table in a feeble attempt at grounding yourself back to reality. You didn't think you’d ever even have a chance to be anything more than friends with Paige. And here you were eating breakfast with her after kissing her and cuddling in her bed. 

You were so fucked. 

You replay the last few days in your head once more. You knew this whole thing was such a bad idea, but you really could not help yourself. Clearly, or you wouldn’t be sitting across from Paige right now.

Trying to pacify your bubbling panic, you ask to see Paige’s phone, wanting to see what the fuss was about. She smirks as she hands it to you, fingers brushing against yours with a kind of sheer electricity you had never felt with anyone else. You shudder at the contact, hoping to blame it on the chill of her slim fingers. 

Avoiding her eye contact and glancing down at the screen, you see video upon video of the kiss, backed with sensual music that has your heart pounding. 

“Oh, my gosh,” you mutter, embarrassed at the amount of views and comments all of the tiktoks had. The bar was not quite as dark as you remembered, giving the cameras of the onlookers the perfect view of your little make-out session. 

You watch yourself kiss Paige a second time, forgetting that the aforementioned blonde was sitting right in front of you. It was your turn to bite your own bottom lip at the sultry music playing, eyes still glued to the way Paige had one hand loosely resting against your throat and the other on your jaw. Your hands were on her waist, pulling her closer and closer into you. 

She would never be close enough. 

Paige clears her throat, breaking you out of the trance from watching that damn kiss. “I think it was pretty believable, huh?” 

It was hard to hear her over the blood rushing in your ears. “Um, yeah. I think so…Listen I’m glad I could help you and Az, but I gotta go.”

Paige’s face is shocked at your sudden excuse, and before she can even attempt to stop you from fleeing, you are already running around gathering up your clothes from last night.

“I’ll return your sweats after I wash ‘em,” you mumble, already halfway out the door. The door closes with a slam, and then nothing but silence. Paige looks around, her beautiful features twisted in a look halfway between stunned and horrified. 

What had she done?

Little did she know that you were a bolter. 

‘The bolter’ was fondly coined to you by your friends. You had craved a real, all-consuming love for many years, but everyone always left. So you learned to leave first. You kept your hopes low, thus ensuring no one could get them up and leave you shattered. And here you were drowning in Paige, and she had all the power over you. And you hated that.

Walking back to your dorm, you vowed to avoid the blonde until your emotions were fully in check; you needed your “ice queen” persona back. You knew it’d be difficult considering your job was to chronicle her life, but you were really fucking stubborn.

You refused to let your intimacy issues and your deep-rooted fear of being hurt ruin Paige’s lively disposition.

You spend the next several days engulfing yourself in schoolwork and your media job. Paige reaches out to you several times, but she gets left on read, causing a pang of guilt to shoot through you. You knew it was for the best. 

But was it really?

You are pulled out of your thoughts a few evenings after leaving Paige by a pounding at your door. Your phone was open to tik tok once more, the images of you and Paige kissing had been like a drug to you; it was getting impossible to avoid. 

With an exasperated huff, you drag yourself off of your chair to open the door, and you are greeted with the harsh expressions of Nika and Azzi. 

Fuck. 

Before you can even attempt to settle their apparent fury, the two girls are barging into your room, gesturing to you to take a seat. Reluctantly doing so, in an effort to avoid pissing them off even more, you look up at them and wait for the diatribe to follow. 

Shockingly, it doesn't come. As you study their faces, they morph into genuine looks of hurt and disappointment. Somehow, that makes you feel worse. 

Azzi starts. “You want to explain to us why you’re ignoring Paige all of a sudden?”

“It wasn’t on purpose…” you trail off. 

Lies. Such lies.

You take a beat to gather your thoughts before continuing. “I don’t want to hurt her. But I can’t let myself get hurt either.”

Nika scoffs indignantly. “Please, Paige would never hurt you. We all know that.”

“I don’t know that,” you stress. “It’s killing me to think that I’m upsetting her, but it’s for the best. I’m terrible in relationships. The lines were already too blurry. I just drew the line in the sand before anything else could happen.”

Azzi flashes her puppy dog eyes at the hurt in your voice, and wraps a comforting arm around you.

“Life is too short to mourn something that’s still living,” she says wisely. “You’re missing out on a lot of happiness with that mindset.”

You knew there was some truth to her words, and taking a deep breath, you promised to reach out to Paige once your thoughts were in order. 

Feeling satisfied with your answer, Nika and Azzi left, but not without several threats. You couldn’t fuck this up this time.

Abandoning every instinct inside your body, you make the familiar trek back to Paige’s apartment. Your mind was racing, trying to find the words to the feelings that had been consuming you for an endless amount of time. Your legs carry you until you stop in front of the same door you had hurried out of a few days prior. A hand reaches up to knock, defiantly separating you from the dread that was attempting to stop you.

A few seconds pass, and you hold in a shaky breath in the anticipation of seeing your beautiful Paige once more. The door cracks open hesitantly, her blue eyes peering around the edge of it. Your heart breaks once your eyes are finally able to fully feast upon her features. She looks absolutely ruined. Her usually bright face was broken and expressionless, and it was hard to miss the darkness under her eyes. 

Tears spring to your eyes at her misery, and you immediately pull her into a hug.

“I’m so fucking sorry, P. I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” The apologies fall out of your mouth like an incantation, desperate to fix your mess. 

Paige sniffles into your hair, and you want to fall apart once more. Moving your hands to her face, you wipe away the tears that had already fallen, silently vowing to never make her cry again. 

“What did I do?” she asks quietly, feeling humiliated that you had seen her in such a vulnerable state. 

“Nothing except give me the best kiss of my life. And I got scared. And when I’m scared, I run,” you whisper, still cradling her head in your small, shaking hands. 

“I messed up, not you. My feelings started consuming me, and I was so worried that once we didn’t have to pretend to date anymore, I would fall apart. Because I need you. I need you, Paige, and that fucking scares me.” 

You were being verbose at this point, hoping you could convince her. 

Paige finally looks at you, her eyes rimmed with red, and whispers “I need you, too.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, and pulled her back into you once more, stroking her hair.  

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, soaking in each other’s presence that had been missed by the both of you. Once yours and Paige’s faces have dried up, and you are swaddled into her warm embrace again, you look up at her with a small smile on your face. 

“You think we could kiss like that again?” 

Paige just grins in response and pulls you in.

She was never letting you leave again, and you were no longer going to be the bolter.

Ta-da! What do we think? Should I write a part 4?

[dooblebugss]

Bit of a headcanon chart for what bugs in Hallownest might eat, based on what we see in-game anyway. There might be aphid livestock floating around somewhere, but we didn't see it so

Bit of rambling below the cut

edit: I thought the follies/mistakes lost their sapience, but I think I was mistaken! they should be in No (Sapient)

Edible:

Self explanatory. Non-sentient insects that look tasty and aren't horribly infected/weird. Garpede is here because we've actually seen a dead Garpede, whereas we've only seen a fossilized Goam

Questionable:

These guys are either heavily infected, covered with crystals, or very weird. Aspids are hypothetically edible when not infected, maybe? But I'm not sure what that'd look like. As for the crystals, I'm not sure if the effort needed to remove all of the rocks is worth the time. Also despite Uomas and Oomas being here, I like to think Tiso eats Uomas on occasion, until he gets sick

No (Sentient):

Self explanatory.

No (Taste Bad):

Also pretty obvious.

[azuries]

SEES RYOJI MASTERPOST i hope you guys enjoy reading through it! i was heavily inspired by all the amazing art and content ive seen of the concept that i wanted to explore it too!

ART:

Moonlight Trio

Yukari and Ryoji going shopping (SEES!Ryoji winter clothes variations)

Ryoji accidentally hitting MC with his scythe

SEES!Ryoji sketch dump

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy splash

SEES!Ryoji Theurgy Storyboard

Ryomina in Tartarus

Ryomina in Tartarus P2

Ryomina in Tartarus P3

SEES!Ryomina Illustration

Cooking with Yukari

SEES!Ryoji Sprite edit

SEES!Ryoji fanmade P3RE screenshots

Ryomina SEES!Ryoji animatic

feral SEES!Ryoji

Clumsy SEES!Ryoji

Charmed Ryoji

All Out Attack Splash

SEES!Ryoji Cut In Splash

Comic

Ryoji learns about evokers

More SEES Ryoji sketches

Ryoji killing the Reaper

Twitter post  

After Ryoji finds his resolve through the Hero, he offers to join his team. He gives him a choice to go through a better, yet harder way to get through Tartarus, a way only he can access. It features new bosses, content, and a new spin of the final fight with Strega.

Contains: Art, battle stats, Theurgy, combat dialogue, Tartarus dialogue and banter, and more!

Full post under the cut:

—-

This AU explores the idea that instead of Ryoji leaving for the last  month, he offers to join the team as a temporary team member to lend his power to help SEES reach the remaining floors of Tartarus before he merges with Nyx. More events happen that prolong the time you spend together. 

Ingame, it’s treated like a bonus mission and an addition to get to know Ryoji better during the aftermath of November. 

As a new addition to the team, he’ll join SEES in the dorm and have his own version of FTEs with plant tending, movie watching, book reading and cooking. He’ll have interactions with other party members. 

The player will also get to know more on his personal feelings as the Appriser. Through conversing with Ryoji, you learn in depth about Tartarus, and the player gets to see a more subdued side of him as he tries to come to terms with his identity. 

He uses an evoker to trigger his form as Thanatos instead of using it to summon a Persona.

The player can choose to go through this route, or play the game like how it was originally set. The ending remains the same.

Party Stats:

Level: Scaleable, 2 levels higher 

Element: Dark and Almighty

Weakness: None, reflects pierce damage 

Combat style: Prioritizes debuffing, tank 

Theurgy - Death’s Call: Deals massive almighty damage to all foes. Fears both enemies and allies. 

Theurgy condition: When Ryoji sees his friends suffer a lethal blow, he feels determined to take vengeance.

Theurgy Personality bonus:

Chance to grant Arcana Burst even without completing your Major Arcana stack.

+ More damage to weak foes. 

Intercepts an incoming lethal blow for a party member.

DIALOGUE:

Ryoji’s first Tartarus entrance dialogue: 

Ryoji: - So this is Tartarus.

I, I can feel her. She’s keeping an eye on us. On me.

Remember that I’m here to help. Tartarus is Nyx’s realm, but I should know a better way to help you get to the top. 

Keep in mind that I may not be as impenetrable while I’m here, and shadows will be a lot more hostile if we go this way. Are you sure you wanna do this?

MC:

> Nowhere to go but up.

> Let’s do this.

> Are you sure there’s no other way?

Don’t worry. Whatever‘s waiting for us, I won’t let anything happen to you. They’ll have to get through me first. 

First Summon dialogue: 

I have to do this. Everyone..I’m sorry for what you’re about to see. 

Get out here, Thanatos! 

Turning into Thanatos (Persona Summon) 

If this is what it takes.

Please look away.

Thanatos!  

Do what you must!

Combat 

Shift dialogue:

All up to you! 

We’re in this together!

Receiving end of shift dialogue: 

I’m on it! 

They’ll get what's coming to them.

Item use: 

This will help, right? 

Getting healed:

I don’t deserve this.

Death:

I-I hope it was enough. 

Sorry..

AILMENTS

Distress

It’s over.. Why do we still try?

Confuse 

Guys? What’s going on?!

Rage

Come on! Take me down if you can! 

Charm

So, how about dinner?~

Down

You’re kidding me! 

Shock

What is this?! 

AOA

Before All Out Attack:  

We’re going in! 

Before splash art: 

And that's how it's done! 

Splash art Caption: 

DEATH IS INEVITABLE

All Out Attack splash art line:

Pointless to deny your fate.

Basic victory dialogue: 

I hope it was worth it. 

Heh, how was that? 

Battle aftermath:

That was impressive. You’re all amazing!

Stairs discovery

Found the stairs. There’s no time to lose! 

Found the way up! You know best, leader.

Treasure

Ooh, something shiny! 

Hey, guys! Found something useful? Maybe?

SEES advantage: 

They never saw it coming! 

Ambush / enemy advantage: 

Leader, stay close to me!

Hit by crit: 

That’s impossible! 

SEES Tartarus dialogue w/Ryoji 

Junpei: Hey, so.. Ryoji… What’s with the long scarf? And how do you not slip from it when you run? 

Ryoji: I don’t think it’s that long! 

Yukari: Seriously? Out of all the questions you can ask him, that’s what you go with? 

—-

Mitsuru: For someone with no prior experience, you’ve been keeping up well, Ryoji-kun. 

Ryoji: I’m glad you think so, Kirijo-senpai.

Akihiko: Don’t push yourself, though, alright?

—-

Junpei: Ryoji! Now that you live with us, we have got to continue the game we were playing! 

Ryoji: I don’t think you’d want to…Didn’t I delete your save on accident?

Junpei: Eh, I wasn’t paying much attention to the story in the first place. 

—-

Ryoji: I never got to thank you before for helping me settle in, Fuuka. How about I take you out? 

Fuuka: Oh, of course! Let’s invite the others too!

Junpei: …Yikes, dude.

—-

Fuuka: I’ve always wanted to do karaoke with you all. You should join us, Ryoji-kun!

Ryoji: Oh, m-me...?

Junpei: Yeah, you’re always holed up in your room and we never know where you’re out at night! How about we sing our hearts out instead? 

Ryoji: Ahh.. haha..I… I’ll think about it. 

—-

Ryoji: *Humming Mass Destruction* 

Aigis: Ryoji-san. Were you the one making those sounds? 

Ryoji: Sorry! Makoto-kun and I were listening to some songs, and now I can’t get it out of my head. 

—-

Ryoji: Aigis..About what happened before. I feel like I should apologize one more time. 

Aigis: Instead of apologies, let’s make a promise. That we’ll see this through, together.

Ryoji: …Yeah. You’re right.  

—-

Aigis: It’s strange. In the real world, you’re impenetrable. But in Tartarus...

Ryoji: Until the promised day, I’m an obstacle to Nyx. I wouldn’t put it past her to limit my power. 

Mitsuru: So she was expecting this. Well, we just have to plan accordingly, then.

—-

Aigis: I decided to live, but…how do I even begin? How would I know? 

Ryoji: I already sense life within you, Aigis. You’re doing more than enough.

—-

Ryoji: Wandering Tartarus must feel repetitive. Maybe I can try something! I can add some arcade machines? 

Ryoji: Oh… but if I do that, Tartarus will just take it away again. *sigh* Nevermind, then.

Ken: Can.. Can you actually do that?!

Yukari: *sigh* Of course he can’t. 

—-

Akihiko: How are you holding up, Mochizuki? Think you can still keep up?

Ryoji: Heh, that’s not even a question, Senpai.

—-

Ryoji: I hope I’m not bringing you guys down. What do you think, Koromaru-san? 

Koromaru: *barks enthusiastically*

Fuuka: Hahaha. Koro-chan seems to enjoy your company!

—-

Yukari: Whew..! You guys notice the shadows have gotten…much more alert?

Akihiko: You’re right. It’s like we unlocked the deepest depths of Tartarus that Nyx didn’t want us to see.

—-

Junpei: Jeez Ryoji, you weren’t kidding. The shadows of this detour are a whole different monster! 

Ryoji: I’m sorry, Junpei. But I promise it’s just a little longer. 

Junpei: Who am I to back down from a challenge? This’ll be a piece of cake! 

—-

Mitsuru: Are you settling in the dorm well, Ryoji-kun?

Ryoji: Oh. I am, thank you. 

Mitsuru: Of course. Just let us know if you need anything.

—-

Ken: Did anyone hear footsteps in the boys’ dorm last night? 

Yukari: Must have been Aigis sneaking to Makoto’s room, even if I told her to not leave past curfew…

Aigis: It was not me. I was out for my monthly checkup. 

Yukari: Then… who was it?

Ryoji: It wasn’t me! 

Yukari: No one said it was you! 

—-

Ken: So, where have you been living before, well, all of this, Ryoji-senpai?

Ryoji: I-I actually don’t know. Anything outside of school and Makoto-kun becomes a blur.

Fuuka: Ryoji-kun…

—-

Ryoji: You’re amazing to lead such a capable team, Makoto-kun. You look good like this. 

—-

Yukari: Ryoji-kun and I went thrift shopping the other day. It was actually pretty fun!

Ryoji: Thanks for taking me out, Takeba-san. I wanted that jacket, though.. 

Yukari: Unless you wanna blind someone with that thing, there’s no good reason to wear it! 

Ryoji: *sighs sadly*

—-

Ryoji: There were so many couples on Paulownia Mall for Christmas Eve. It was lovely to see.

Junpei: Ooo, does our newest member have a special someone they have in mind?

Ryoji: I-I wouldn’t say that..

Junpei: Hahaha! You’re like a tomato right now, dude! 

Ryoji: Hey, knock it off!

—-

Ryoji: Wait, you’ve reached past the 200th floor?! Akihiko: All in a day’s work. Everyone has been putting in their all. 

—-

Akihiko: You’re hardly breaking a sweat. What’s your routine, Mochizuki?

Ken: I’m guessing it’s him not being human in the first place?

Akihiko: Ken, that’s not..!

Ryoji: It’s alright, I don’t mind. He has a point, though.

—-

Yukari: I won these chocolate bars, I brought them in case anyone wanted a snack. Want some? 

Ryoji: Oh, that’s okay. I don’t eat sweets that much. 

—-

Mitsuru: I have to say it was quite convenient for the Kirijo Group to have an extra weapon. 

Ken: Yeah, and what’re the odds it was a scythe too?

Ryoji: Hahaha…. I guess.

—-

Koromaru *bark*

Aigis: Koromaru-san is asking that if you’re Death, what will that make of the Reaper?

Junpei: I bet Ryoji here can take him down, no problem! 

Ryoji: I’d rather not stick around to find out. For your sakes.

—-

Ryoji: I was told you lost a close friend to the Dark Hour. I’m sorry for your loss.

Mitsuru: …Thank you, Ryoji-kun.

Akihiko: He’d want us to move forward. There’s no use dwelling in the past.

Ryoji: I guess you’re right. I’m here to help however I can. 

—-

Koromaru: *bark bark* 

Junpei: Hey… you think Koromaru sensed Ryoji’s true identity? 

Ken: Oh, do you mean because  of dogs’  intuition to ghosts and spirits? 

Fuuka: I don’t think Ryoji-kun’s just any ghost though..!

—-

Ryoji: Hey Takeba-san. Can I ask you something?

Yukari: I swear, if it’s you trying to ask me out again…

Ryoji: Oh, that’s not what I was gonna- Wait, do you want me to? Because-

Mitsuru: -I think I saw something important there, leader. Let’s check it out.

Ryoji: This feels too familiar.

—-

Junpei: Kyoto was so fun! School trips should happen more often. 

Yukari: *glare*

Junpei: Eep! 

Ryoji: Ah-! I-I swear, that wasn’t our intention! It was all a misunderstanding! Leader, tell her! 

—-

SP LOW: 

Mitsuru: Ryoji-kun. Make sure not to strain yourself. 

Ryoji: I’m fine, please don’t worry. I can’t let up in front of a pretty girl like you, now can I? 

—-

Fuuka: Leader… Ryoji seems tired. 

—-

If Makoto has low SP: 

Ryoji: You don’t look good…Please, pace yourself. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.

FTEs: (WIP)

Plant tending event

anddd thats it so far!! if this post ever needs updating, i definitely will!

thank you so much for reading! it really means a lot!

[creatur3featur3]

ੈ✩ Street Rat p5 ✩ੈ

word count: 12k GOD DAMN IM GONNA BURN OUT WTF

A/N: uhhh lots of rambling on, i wanted to edit this pretty heavily but, my nights are being taken by watching the loml play Stray on my nintendo switch so- yall get a unedited version because I have a life outside of this! don't kill me please

warnings: mentions of wounds, smut at the end, eating out Sev (r) (I could only write so much of it sorry gang)

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

You sat stiffly on Sevika’s couch, your legs bouncing with barely contained anxiety. The fabric beneath you was surprisingly soft, not what you expected from someone like her. The whole place, really, was more put-together than you’d imagined. Still gritty, still undeniably hers, but… not a total dump.

Your hand hovered over your side, pressing gently against the makeshift bandage you’d thrown together on the way here. The stab wound throbbed, a sharp reminder of your less-than-stellar life choices. The fight had been ugly, and the guy you’d gone up against clearly hadn’t cared about playing fair.

“Stay still,” Sevika’s voice cut through your thoughts. She was across the room, rummaging through a cabinet. “You’re already bleeding all over my floor.”

You winced—not from pain, but from the sharp edge in her tone. “Sorry,” you mumbled, though you doubted she cared about the apology.

Sevika turned around, her metal arm gleaming faintly in the dim light as she carried a small kit over to you. “You’re lucky I’m even bothering,” she grumbled, dropping it on the table with a clatter. “Most people wouldn’t be dumb enough to pick that fight in the first place.”

You glanced down, avoiding her gaze. “He started it.”

“Yeah?” Sevika raised an eyebrow, pulling out a roll of bandages and some antiseptic. “And I’m guessing you just had to finish it, huh?”

You didn’t respond, biting your lip as she knelt in front of you. Her expression was unreadable, though the way she grabbed your arm to hold you steady was gentler than you’d expected.

“This is gonna sting,” she warned, holding up a bottle of antiseptic.

“I’ll be fine,” you muttered, bracing yourself.

The first touch of the liquid made you hiss through your teeth, your whole body jerking involuntarily. Sevika’s grip tightened, keeping you still.

“Stop squirming,” she said, her tone softer than before.

“I’m not squirming,” you shot back, though the watery sting in your eyes said otherwise.

She chuckled softly under her breath, shaking her head as she worked. “Tough talk for someone who can’t handle a little cleaning.”

You glared at her, but it didn’t hold much weight—not when she was literally keeping you from bleeding out. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” she admitted, smirking as she wrapped the bandage around your side. “But don’t get used to it. This is a one-time favor.”

“Sure,” you said, wincing again as her fingers brushed against a particularly tender spot. “One time.”

But the way Sevika lingered, her hands steady and careful as she patched you up, made you wonder if she meant it.

Sevika sat back on her heels, her sharp eyes narrowing as she finished securing the bandage around your side. Her lips pressed into a thin line, the quiet tension in the room thick enough to choke on. She didn’t look amused.  

“Alright,” she started, crossing her arms over her chest as she rose to her full height, towering over you. “Mind telling me why the hell you’re still out there getting into fights?”  

You glanced up at her, then quickly looked away, suddenly finding the scuffed floor fascinating. “I mean, it’s the Undercity,” you said, shrugging nonchalantly despite the pain it caused. “Fights happen.”  

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped, her voice low and gruff. “You promised you’d do better.”  

There was a long pause. You could feel her gaze boring into you, waiting for an answer. Finally, you sighed, raising your hands in mock surrender.  

“Okay, okay,” you muttered, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “I may or may not have had my fingers crossed when I said that.”  

Sevika blinked, her expression unreadable at first. Then, her jaw tightened, and she let out a sharp, exasperated laugh.  

“Are you kidding me?” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re unbelievable.”  

“I mean, technically, I didn’t lie,” you pointed out, trying to suppress the grin creeping onto your face.  

“You’re lucky I didn’t let you bleed out,” she muttered, shaking her head as she leaned against the wall, arms still crossed.  

“Come on,” you said, sitting up straighter despite the ache in your side. “It wasn’t that bad.”  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, gesturing pointedly at the blood-stained rag you’d used earlier. “Sure. Not bad at all.”  

You winced, scratching the back of your neck. “Okay, maybe I could’ve handled it better.”  

“Maybe?” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm.  

“Alright, alright,” you relented, holding up your hands again. “I’ll be more careful next time.”  

“There shouldn’t be a next time,” Sevika said firmly, her gaze hardening. “You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep this up.”  

The weight in her voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.  

“I’ll… try,” you said quietly, your smirk fading.  

“Good,” she replied, though her eyes lingered on you, softer now, as if she wasn’t entirely convinced.

Sevika leaned against the kitchen counter, her metal arm glinting under the dim light as she glanced back at you. “You hungry?” she asked, her tone gruff, but the question caught you off guard.  

Your stomach growled in reply before you could even think to answer, and you sheepishly scratched the back of your neck. “Starving, actually,” you admitted with a small laugh.  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, pushing herself off the counter. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she said, heading toward the tiny kitchen area.  

“Warn me?” you echoed, watching her rummage through a cabinet.  

She shrugged, pulling out a few ingredients and setting them on the counter. “I’m not much of a cook,” she muttered. “But I’ll try.”  

You couldn’t help the skeptical look that crossed your face. Sevika? Cooking? The woman who looked like she lived on cigars and sheer spite?  

Still, you stayed quiet, leaning back on her couch as you watched her work. It was oddly mesmerizing—her movements were steady, calculated, like everything else she did.  

When the aroma of whatever she was making started to fill the room, your skepticism started to waver.  

Finally, Sevika placed a plate in front of you, her expression unreadable as she nodded toward it. “There,” she said. “Eat up.”  

You hesitated for a moment, staring at the food. It looked surprisingly good—better than you’d expected from someone who claimed they couldn’t cook.  

The first bite was cautious, your eyes widening as the flavors hit your tongue. By the second bite, you were practically inhaling it.  

“Oh my god,” you mumbled around a mouthful of food, eyes wide. “This is incredible.”  

Sevika blinked, clearly not expecting your reaction. “It’s just… a simple recipe,” she said, scratching the back of her neck.  

“Simple?” you repeated, gesturing wildly with your fork. “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”  

She smirked, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. “You’re easy to impress.”  

“No, seriously,” you insisted, taking another enthusiastic bite. “You could open a restaurant or something.”  

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t get carried away.”  

You leaned back in the chair, fork clinking softly against the plate as you savored the last few bites of Sevika’s unexpectedly amazing meal. “You know,” you started, trying to keep your voice casual, “you’re way too humble for your own good when you’re around me.”  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, smirking as she leaned against the counter. “Humble, huh?”  

“Yeah,” you said, gesturing toward your empty plate like it was evidence. “I mean, come on. You act all tough and gruff, but then you go and do something like this? It’s throwing me off.”  

She chuckled, the low sound sending a shiver up your spine. “Maybe it’s hard not to be when I’m with you,” she replied, her tone surprisingly soft.  

The words hung in the air, heavy and unfiltered, and you felt your breath hitch. Your cheeks warmed, your heart skipping a beat as you fumbled for a response.  

For the first time in your life, you found yourself genuinely flustered—and not in a way you hated.  

You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck as you tried to regain some semblance of composure. “That’s… well, that’s not fair,” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.  

“Not fair?” Sevika teased, her smirk deepening. “What, you can dish it out but can’t take it?”  

You scowled half-heartedly, the heat in your cheeks betraying you. “I can take it just fine,” you shot back, though your voice lacked its usual edge.  

Sevika chuckled again, her eyes softening as she watched you squirm. “Good to know,” she said simply, her tone carrying an undertone of something… warmer.  

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to run or hide from it.

“So,” you sighed, pushing yourself off the couch and standing up, stretching your arms high above your head. A series of satisfying pops followed, and you let out a content groan. “What’s the plan? You going out to fight people? Play cards or whatever it is you do to keep busy?”

Sevika raised an eyebrow at you from her spot on the couch, her metal arm resting casually on the armrest. “I’m going to bed,” she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked at her, genuinely caught off guard. “Wait… seriously? Bed? Right now?”

She nodded, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Yeah. I do that sometimes, you know. Sleep?”

You crossed your arms, still staring at her like she’d just told you the sky was green. “I don’t know, Sev. I just assumed you were some kind of nocturnal machine or something. Sleep doesn’t seem very… you.”

Her smirk deepened as she leaned back, clearly amused by your reaction. “And what exactly do you think I do all night? Patrol the streets like some kind of vigilante?”

“I mean…” you trailed off, shrugging as you gestured vaguely at her. “Yeah? You’re Sevika. Isn’t that, like, your whole thing?”

She chuckled, shaking her head as she stood up, towering over you. “I hate to disappoint, but even I need to recharge sometimes,” she said, her tone laced with teasing sarcasm.

You snorted, stepping aside as she moved past you. “I don’t know if I’m more shocked that you sleep or that you’re admitting it to me.”

You stood there in silence, watching Sevika disappear into her bedroom. For a moment, you debated your next move, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. And then, before you could stop yourself, you found your feet moving, following her into the room.

Sevika didn’t say anything as you stepped inside, though the way she glanced at you with a raised eyebrow made it clear she noticed. She didn’t tell you to leave either, so you took that as an invitation to linger.

Her room was simple, surprisingly so. The bed was neatly made, the walls bare save for a few scratches and dents that told stories you’d probably never hear.

As Sevika sat on the edge of the bed, unbuckling her metal arm, you decided to take a risk. “So,” you started, leaning against the doorframe with a playful smirk, “does this mean I get to sleep with you?”

Sevika froze mid-motion, her head snapping up to look at you. For a second, there was only silence, and then—

“You’ve got ten seconds to leave,” she said flatly, though you could see the way her lips twitched like she was fighting back a smile.

“Aw, come on, Sev,” you teased, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “It was just a joke.”

“Nine,” she continued, standing up and fixing you with a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement.

“Okay, okay!” you laughed, backing toward the door. “I’m going! No need to get all violent about it.”

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath as you slipped out of the room.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. Sure, she’d kicked you out—but at least she hadn’t looked too mad.

Despite her threats, Sevika didn’t actually kick you out of her house entirely. Instead, as you were halfway to the door, she called out with a gruff sigh.  

“Hey,” she muttered, leaning in the doorway of her bedroom, her metal arm resting against the frame. “You can crash on the couch if you want. Better than whatever roof you’ve been using for the past nineteen years.”  

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in her tone. “Wait, seriously?”  

“Don’t make me regret it,” she grumbled, her expression unreadable.  

You smirked, turning back toward the couch. “Aw, Sevika, I didn’t know you cared.”  

You flopped onto the couch, stretching out and making yourself comfortable. Sure, it wasn’t the most luxurious spot in the world, but compared to a freezing rooftop, it felt like heaven.  

Sevika lingered for a moment, watching you settle in before she disappeared back into her bedroom. As the door shut softly behind her, you couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth in your chest.  

Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she wanted everyone to think. Maybe—just maybe—there was more to her than the sharp edges and hard exterior.  

You had always had a hard time sleeping, never really being able to fully relax when you laid down. 

when you were younger you always had be a least a little alert so you could make sure your dad didn't hurt your mom. 

but after the fire— the nightmares were unbearable, and of course they happened tonight, just like any night-

The dream came like it always did—smoke and fire swallowing everything around you, your mother’s desperate cries echoing in your ears. You were running, your lungs burning as much as your legs, trying to reach her. Trying to reach anyone. But no matter how fast you moved, the fire was faster.

It consumed everything.

Your sisters laughter turned to screams, the warmth of their embrace replaced by the searing heat of the flames. You called for them, begged for them to come back, but your voice was lost in the roar of the inferno.

And then, just like always, you were alone.

You woke up with a start, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as you bolted upright on Sevika’s couch. Your chest heaved, your body slick with sweat as the remnants of the nightmare clawed at your mind.

You bit down on your trembling lip, quickly wiping at your cheeks to erase any evidence of tears. You couldn’t cry—not here. Not where Sevika could hear you.

Taking a shaky breath, you pressed your hands to your face, trying to calm the pounding in your chest. But the images wouldn’t leave. The fire, the screams, the overwhelming helplessness. It was all still there, as vivid as the night it happened.

You sat there in silence, your hands gripping the blanket Sevika had given you, your knuckles white from the strain. You tried to steady your breathing, counting in your head, focusing on the feel of the fabric against your skin.

Don’t wake her up. Don’t make a scene.

You’d learned long ago how to cry quietly, how to stifle the sound of your sobs so no one would notice. But as the minutes dragged on, the weight in your chest didn’t ease.

This wasn’t new. It was routine. But somehow, sitting there in Sevika’s home—knowing she was just a few steps away—it felt different.

You found yourself standing at Sevika’s door, pondering if you should even do this, she'd probably kill you if she woke up to see you just staring at her in her sleep– but you just wanted to have some sort of comfort tonight…

You cautiously opened the door, slowly walking over to Sevika's bed, and you saw her.

Sevika was sprawled out on her bed, one arm draped over her stomach while the other rested on the pillow beside her. Her metal arm gleamed faintly in the dim light filtering in from the street outside, and her steady breathing filled the silence of the room.

She looked… peaceful. Completely different from the hardened woman you knew during the day.

For a moment, you hesitated, torn between leaving her be and giving in to the ache in your chest. This was a terrible idea—worse than terrible. If she caught you, she’d definitely never let you live it down. But something about the way she seemed so at ease made you linger.

You moved a little closer, your heart pounding in your chest as you debated whether to wake her.

“Sevika…” you whispered, barely audible, testing the waters.

She didn’t stir.

You sighed, your shoulders sagging as you sat cautiously on the edge of her bed. You weren’t sure what you were doing—maybe you just wanted to feel like someone was there. Like you weren’t completely alone tonight.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring at your hands as you tried to will away the lingering images of the fire.

And then, Sevika stirred.

Her brow furrowed slightly as she shifted, her eyes slowly opening. She blinked, her gaze focusing on you in the faint light.

“What the hell are you doing?” she rasped, her voice low and groggy.

You froze, guilt crashing over you in an instant. “I—uh… nothing,” you stammered, quickly looking away. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just—”

She sat up, rubbing her face with her flesh hand as she muttered something under her breath. “You just what?”

You swallowed, your fingers twisting in the hem of your shirt. “I… couldn’t sleep,” you admitted quietly.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no real anger there—just annoyance mixed with something softer, something almost understanding. She let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the headboard.

“And you thought creeping into my room was the solution?” she asked, her tone dry.

You winced, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just get in,” she interrupted, cutting you off.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Get in the bed before I change my mind,” Sevika said, rolling her eyes. “If it’ll shut you up and let me sleep, fine.”

You hesitated, wondering if this was some kind of cruel joke, but the look on her face told you she wasn’t kidding.

Swallowing hard, you slid under the blanket, careful not to get too close.

“Don’t make this weird,” Sevika muttered, lying back down and closing her eyes.

You nodded, though she couldn’t see it, your heart pounding in your chest. “Thanks,” you whispered, barely audible.

Sevika grunted in response, already halfway back to sleep.

For the first time in a long time, the weight in your chest felt a little lighter.

Sevika would've never taken you for someone who needed to have someone to sleep by, but when you crawled into the bed and only about 5 minutes passed you were knocked out completely.

Sevika grumbled sleepily when she felt your body shift closer to her’s, hands lazily gripping at her arm, seemed like you craved the contact.

Sevika blinked lazily in the dim light, her grogginess fading just enough to register your soft, steady breathing. Your fingers curled lightly around her flesh arm, like you were holding on to an anchor in the dark.  

She sighed, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to care. But here you were, fast asleep beside her, looking more peaceful than she’d ever seen you.  

“Damn kid,” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.  

She shifted slightly, careful not to wake you, and let her head rest back against the pillow. Your grip on her tightened unconsciously, and she huffed, though there was no real annoyance behind it.  

For a moment, Sevika just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to your quiet breaths. She told herself she’d shove you off if you started snoring, or if you got too comfortable.  

But when she felt you relax further against her, your hand slipping down to rest on her arm as your body melted into sleep, she didn’t push you away.  

She closed her eyes, her lips twitching into the faintest of smiles.  

“Don’t make this a habit,” she murmured, knowing full well she’d probably let you do it again.

—

More or less it did become a habit.

She hated that you slept up on that roof, where idiots could find you and rip you apart if they were creeping around– and they had, multiple times.

“Your not going back there,” Sevika had stated as you ate the best fucking sweetbread you'd ever had in your life.

You paused mid-bite, staring at her like she’d just announced the sun would stop rising tomorrow. “What do you mean I’m not going back there?” you mumbled through a mouthful of sweetbread.  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Exactly what I said. You’re not going back to that damn roof.”  

You swallowed, setting the bread down as you tried to process her words. “Sev, I’ve been living there for years. It’s—”  

“Unsafe,” she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. “And stupid.”  

You frowned, leaning back in your seat. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, it’s not like I have a ton of other options.”  

“You have one,” Sevika shot back, her voice firm but not unkind. “Here.”  

Your mouth opened, then closed again, her words catching you completely off guard. “Wait, are you—are you serious?”  

She huffed, running a hand down her face like this conversation was exhausting her. “Look, I’m not saying I want you here,” she grumbled. “But I’m not about to let you get yourself killed sleeping in some alley because you’re too stubborn to accept help.”  

You stared at her, a mixture of surprise and warmth blooming in your chest. “Wow, Sev. That’s… almost sweet of you.”  

“Don’t push it,” she warned, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smirk.  

You couldn’t help but grin, picking up the sweetbread again. “Fine, fine. Guess I can’t say no to free food and a roof over my head.”  

“Damn right you can’t,” Sevika muttered, reaching for her drink.  

And just like that, you found yourself with a new place to call home—even if Sevika would never admit that’s what it was.

She hated how you always convinced her to let you sleep in her bed, hated how you immediately crawled up next to her, hated the steady weight of your head against her chest — but she never asked you to move, only draping a lazily arm around you.

You had your own little routine as well, you were a early bird– like 3 in the fucking morning early. 

Sevika grumbled as she felt the bed shift under your movements, the mattress creaking slightly as you tried to quietly slip out.  

“Do you ever sleep?” she muttered, her voice groggy and laced with irritation.  

You froze mid-step, turning to look at her in the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains. “Didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered, sheepishly scratching the back of your neck.  

“You always wake me,” Sevika grumbled, running a hand down her face before glaring at you through half-lidded eyes. “What the hell do you even do this early?”  

You shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Secret early-bird business.”  

Sevika groaned, flopping back against the pillow. “One day, I’m locking the door and forcing you to sleep past dawn like a normal person.”  

“You wouldn’t dare,” you teased, sticking your tongue out before making your way to the small kitchen.  

As you busied yourself quietly with whatever “early-bird business” meant today—whether it was tinkering with a gadget you’d scavenged or practicing some half-baked card tricks—you couldn’t help but glance toward the bedroom now and then.  

Sevika might complain, might grumble about you being a menace, but you knew the truth: if she really wanted to stop you, she would’ve done it by now.  

By the time you finished, the faint sound of Sevika’s snoring drifted through the apartment, a quiet reminder that, for all her protests, she had a soft spot for you. And maybe—just maybe—you had one for her too.

She had even made time to try and teach you how to play cards, though your constant struggle and frustration of a toddler who's new toy broke made it hard…

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sevika muttered, watching as you furiously shuffled the deck of cards in your hands for the fourth time in a row, your face scrunched up in childlike frustration.  

“I swear these cards hate me,” you grumbled, fumbling as a few slipped from your grip and scattered across the table.  

Sevika sighed, leaning back in her chair with a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “It’s not the cards, it’s you. How are you this bad at a game literally everyone in the Undercity knows?”  

“Maybe because no one’s bothered to teach me properly,” you shot back, gathering the stray cards with an exaggerated pout.  

“I am teaching you,” Sevika said, her tone laced with mock exasperation. “You’re just too stubborn to listen.”  

You glared at her, holding up the cards in a way that was anything but professional. “Alright, teacher, then explain to me—again—how the hell I’m supposed to win this hand?”  

Sevika chuckled, leaning forward and taking the cards from your hands with ease. “First of all, stop holding them like you’re about to eat them,” she teased, spreading the cards out neatly before handing them back to you.  

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “This is impossible.”  

“It’s literally not,” Sevika replied, rolling her eyes. “Here, let me make it simpler.” She reached across the table and arranged your cards in a better order. “Focus on this. Don’t overthink it.”  

You hesitated, glancing at the new setup before looking back at Sevika. “What’s the catch?”  

“No catch,” she said, smirking. “I just don’t want to deal with your tantrums all night.”  

Despite her teasing, you couldn’t help but notice the way her voice softened slightly when she saw your furrowed brow ease just a bit.  

“Well, don’t get used to it,” you muttered, though a small smile betrayed your words. “I’ll beat you eventually.”  

Sevika snorted, leaning back with a confident smirk. “Sure you will, rookie. I’ll be waiting.” 

and you had— eventually… albeit with Sevika letting you win, but you didn't have to know that.

You had gloated about it all night, even when you both slipped into bed, you mumbled on about how good you had gotten ( you in fact had not improved a bit and just stole cards when Sevika wasn't looking…)

Sevika lay there, her head tilted slightly as she watched you ramble on with barely-contained amusement. You were sprawled out beside her, practically buzzing with excitement as you recounted your “victory” for the third time that night.

“I mean, did you see the look on your face? You couldn’t believe I won!” you said, grinning ear to ear, completely unaware of the sly grin tugging at Sevika’s lips.

“Uh-huh,” Sevika replied, her voice low and lazy as her metal arm rested across her stomach. “A real prodigy, you are.”

You didn’t catch the sarcasm, too busy basking in your supposed triumph. “Damn right I am! Maybe I should start betting with other people. Who knows? I could be the next Undercity card champion!”

Sevika huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Sure. Just don’t come crying to me when someone catches you cheating.”

Your face froze for half a second, but you quickly masked it with a wide grin. “Cheating? Who, me? I would never.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Right. And I didn’t catch you palming cards when I turned my back.”

You gasped, clutching your chest dramatically. “Accusations like that could ruin my reputation!”

“Your reputation’s already in the gutter,” Sevika teased, her tone light as she shifted to get more comfortable.

You huffed, crossing your arms as you flopped back onto the pillow. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t let me win,” you muttered under your breath.

Sevika turned her head toward you, her brow arching. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” you chirped, your grin quickly returning as you turned onto your side to face her.

She shook her head, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice softer now as the energy of the night began to wane. “But you still let me sleep here, so who’s the real fool?”

Sevika rolled her eyes, but the faintest smile tugged at her lips as she reached over to flick your forehead lightly. “Go to sleep, you little cheat.”

You grinned, snuggling into the pillow. “Goodnight, Sevika. Sweet dreams about your champion.”

She groaned softly but didn’t reply, letting the quiet settle over the room. And despite her grumbles, she couldn’t quite hide the warmth spreading in her chest as she listened to your breathing even out beside her.

—

Sevika had expected you to be home by now, she of all people had beat you home and that made her worry, because as much as she hated admitting it she did worry about you getting into fights or something along the lines of that, because— you were clumsy.

10:21pm

You always came home around 10:20 if you were out, and you weren't here.

10:26pm

You still weren't here.

10:33pm

Sevika stood by the window, eyes scanning the dark street below, her mind restless. She had never let herself care this much about someone before, not in a way that made her stomach twist with unease. But damn it, she had a habit of worrying about you, even when she knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.

The clock ticked on, each passing minute making her more agitated. She checked the door again, even though she knew it wouldn't be locked, not when you were out there, doing whatever it was you did that kept her awake at night.

Another glance at her watch. It was nearing 10:40 now, and Sevika was on edge.

Her hand clenched into a fist at her side, fingers curling tightly. Where the hell are you?

She paced the room briefly, before stopping to look back out the window, hoping to see you walk through the door with that cocky grin of yours like you didn’t just send her spiraling into worry. It made her feel like an idiot, like she was overreacting, but the absence of your usual noise, the absence of you… it gnawed at her.

The door handle finally clicked, and the faintest sound of footsteps in the hall made her body tense.

“Sevika,” you called out quietly, sounding... off.

Sevika didn't even think before she rushed to the door, throwing it open to find you standing there, looking disheveled, your usual energy absent.

You didn't say anything at first, just looked at her. Something about your expression made her stomach churn.

"Where the hell have you been?" Sevika demanded, her voice sharp despite her concern. She wasn't trying to yell, but the way her heart was pounding only made her more irritable.

You looked up at her, your face half-hidden in shadow. "Just... out," you muttered, almost evasively.

“Out?” Sevika repeated, a dark look crossing her face. "You’re late, and you're clearly not fine. What happened?”

You hesitated, your gaze flicking away for a moment. Sevika knew you well enough to recognize the signs of a lie, and the fact you didn’t meet her eyes made her jaw tighten.

She stepped forward, her voice low and insistent. “Tell me what happened.”

For a long moment, you didn’t respond, and she thought she might just snap. But finally, you exhaled sharply, lifting your eyes to hers.

“I’m fine, okay?” you said, the words almost too quick, too defensive.

Sevika didn’t buy it. "No, you're not. You look like shit. What happened to you?" She stepped closer again, scanning your face for any sign of what you were hiding.

You bit your lip, seeming to struggle internally, before finally admitting, “I got into a fight. Nothing big.”

She didn't believe that for a second.

“Nothing big?” Sevika repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. "What, you think I can't tell when you're lying to me? Where the hell were you?"

You exhaled, rubbing the back of your neck. "I wasn't thinking, Sevika... I just… got carried away, alright? I didn’t mean to worry you."

Sevika shook her head, a mixture of relief and frustration flooding through her. “Next time, don’t get carried away so much. Dammit, you could’ve been killed!” She reached for your arm, her fingers tightening around it. “You can’t keep doing this, especially when you know I’m the one who has to sit here and wait for you to come back in one piece.”

You flinched at her touch, but she didn’t let go, watching your face as her anger gave way to something more concerned, more tender. “You scared the hell out of me,” she muttered, softer now, her grip loosening.

You didn't say anything, but the way you looked at her, the vulnerability in your eyes, made her chest tighten. And despite everything— despite the frustration and the worry— all she could think about was how relieved she was that you were back.

Then- a soft meow from your coat.

Sevika froze, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as the faint sound of a meow reached her ears. Her gaze dropped to your coat, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

“Is that—” she started, only for the small, scruffy head of a kitten to poke out from beneath the fabric. Its fur was patchy and matted, and its eyes… the poor thing was blind, its eyes wounded and closed tightly.

You flinched under Sevika’s stare, your arms tightening protectively around the kitten.

“You’re what made me late,” you mumbled sheepishly, scratching the kitten’s chin as it leaned into your touch, letting out another tiny meow.

Sevika’s eyes widened slightly, her usual tough exterior faltering as she took in the pitiful sight. “Are you serious?” she said, her tone caught somewhere between disbelief and exasperation.

“It was hurt!” you argued, looking up at her with an uncharacteristic determination. “I couldn’t just leave it there.”

Sevika pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath about how you were going to drive her insane. “So, what? You’re bringing it here?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s blind, Sevika. What was I supposed to do?”

“Leave it?” she suggested flatly, but the slight softening in her expression betrayed her words.

You shook your head, holding the kitten closer. “I’m not heartless.”

Sevika stared at you for a long moment, her jaw tightening as she weighed her options. Finally, with a resigned sigh, she stepped aside, gesturing toward the couch. “Fine. But you’re taking care of it. Not me.”

You grinned, relief washing over you as you hurried to set the kitten down on the couch. “Thanks, Sevika. I knew you had a soft spot somewhere in there.”

“Don’t push it,” she grumbled, crossing her arms as she watched you fuss over the kitten.

As you gently cleaned the little creature’s face with a damp cloth, Sevika couldn’t help but watch, her irritation fading as she saw how careful you were. Despite herself, she muttered, “What are you gonna name it?”

You looked up at her, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I was thinking something like Shadow. Fitting, right?”

Sevika rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Shadow, huh? Hope you know what you’re getting into.”

“I’ve got it handled,” you said confidently, holding up the kitten like it was a prize. “Right, Shadow?”

The kitten let out a tiny, raspy meow, and Sevika shook her head, muttering under her breath, “You’re both gonna be the death of me.”

Sevika glared at you as you carefully placed the blind kitten—now affectionately named Shadow—on the bed, right between the two of you. The tiny creature curled up instantly, letting out a soft purr as it snuggled against Sevika’s pillow.

“You’re really making me deal with this?” Sevika grumbled, her voice dripping with irritation as she jabbed a finger toward the tiny black fluff ball.

“You said it could stay,” you pointed out with a sly grin, slipping under the covers as if this were all perfectly normal.

“I didn’t say it could take my bed,” she shot back, glaring at the kitten like it was personally responsible for all her troubles.

Shadow let out a tiny meow, its head turning toward the sound of her voice. Despite herself, Sevika softened slightly, though she tried to hide it by crossing her arms.

“Look, it’s blind,” you said, your tone softening as you stroked the kitten’s scruffy fur. “It needs comfort, Sevika. Would you really make it sleep on the floor?”

Sevika groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, but she made no move to remove the kitten.

Instead, she climbed into bed, her movements careful so she didn’t disturb Shadow. The kitten perked up at the shift and blindly pawed at her arm, letting out another small purr as it nestled closer.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sevika muttered, her voice low, though she made no effort to push the kitten away.

You bit back a laugh, watching the way her tough exterior melted ever so slightly as Shadow settled in. “You’re a natural, Sev,” you teased, propping your head up with a hand.

“Don’t,” she warned, shooting you a look, though the effect was ruined by the way Shadow nuzzled into her side.

As the kitten’s purring filled the room, you couldn’t help but smile, the sight of Sevika reluctantly sharing her space with the tiny creature warming your chest.

“Goodnight, Sevika,” you murmured, your voice laced with amusement as you turned over.

“Goodnight,” she grumbled, glaring at the ceiling. “Both of you.”

Though Sevika couldn't help but wonder why you brought home a kitten of all things right after you seemed to get into a fight, your cheeks bruised- your arms scratched up and covered in dried blood… and you had brought home a kitten.

As Sevika laid there, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, she couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting back to you. You were fast asleep, your breathing even and soft, while Shadow nestled contently between you both, oblivious to the storm of questions running through Sevika’s mind.

A kitten. Of all the things you could’ve brought home after getting into what was clearly a bad fight—a scruffy, blind kitten was your grand prize.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed as she recalled the state you were in when you’d finally shown up. Your cheek was swollen and turning an ugly shade of purple, your arms were littered with scratches, and your knuckles looked raw from punching something—or someone.

And yet, you’d come home cradling a tiny, injured creature like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible.

Shadow let out a faint purr, its tiny body shifting closer to her warmth. Sevika sighed, her metal arm resting heavily against her side. It wasn’t the kitten’s fault—it was yours. You, with your reckless habits, your infuriating stubbornness, and that damn bleeding heart of yours.

She couldn’t decide whether to be angry or… something else entirely.

Sevika’s gaze flicked toward you, your face soft in sleep despite the bruises marring your skin. You were an enigma to her, a frustrating mix of chaos and compassion.

“Idiot,” she muttered, though there was no heat in the word.

As much as she hated it—hated the worry you caused her, hated the way you seemed to drag her into your ridiculous messes—she couldn’t help but admire you.

Because even after all you’d been through, even when the world had done its best to harden you, you still found it in yourself to care. To fight for something—someone—other than yourself.

She couldn't help but wrap a arm around you though, sighing softly as she pulled you slightly closer, relaxing as you let out a soft breath, molding right into her as Shadow purred softly.

For a moment, Sevika stayed still, her arm resting lightly around your waist as she stared up at the ceiling. The sound of your soft breathing, paired with Shadow's steady purring, filled the quiet room. It was strangely… peaceful.

She exhaled deeply, her body relaxing into the mattress as she pulled you just a little closer, her flesh arm cradling you in a way that felt oddly natural. Your head nestled against her shoulder, your warmth seeping through the fabric of her shirt, and she couldn't help but notice how perfectly you seemed to fit there, like you belonged.

Sevika closed her eyes, her thumb brushing lightly against your side as she allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability. Normally, she would’ve shoved you away by now, grumbling about needing space or pretending not to care. But tonight was different.

Maybe it was the kitten, a tiny symbol of your ridiculous compassion. Or maybe it was the quiet trust in the way you molded yourself to her, no hesitation, no fear.

“Trouble magnet,” she muttered softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

You shifted slightly, a small smile tugging at your lips even in sleep, and Sevika couldn’t stop the faint smirk that curved her own.

As much as she hated to admit it, there was something comforting about having you here, in her space, in her arms. And for once, she didn’t fight it.

Instead, she tightened her hold on you just a little, her eyes fluttering shut as sleep began to pull her under.

Shadow’s purring filled the air like a lullaby, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Sevika let herself relax completely.

—

That felt like such a short time ago now, but it was about 2 months now, Shadow being a little bit older but still running into a few walls when he wasn't following you around.

Sevika wouldn't admit it but she did like having Shadow around when you were out scraping together pieces for your little inventions, even making a custom little food bowl for Shadow with broken clay or whatever else you put in it.

Shadow had become a fixture in Sevika’s life, almost as much as you had. The kitten’s blind, clumsy antics brought a strange sense of levity to her otherwise harsh world. She’d often catch herself muttering under her breath as she watched him wobble around the apartment, tail twitching and nose leading him toward whatever he’d deemed interesting that day.

Even if Shadow did knock over her tools or chew on the edge of her gloves when she wasn’t looking, she never really got mad. Not that she’d let you see her soft spot, of course.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but notice how Shadow always seemed to gravitate toward Sevika when you weren’t around. You often caught her giving Shadow little pieces of meat off her plate, despite claiming she didn’t care much for pets.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Sev,” you teased one day, leaning against the counter as you watched her scratch behind Shadow’s ears. The kitten’s purring was so loud it practically rattled the table.

Sevika shot you a pointed glare, though there was no real bite behind it. “Keep talking and you’re cleaning his litter box for the next month.”

You snickered, arms crossed as you grinned at her. “Come on, admit it. You’re soft for him.”

“I’m not soft for anything,” she growled, but the way her fingers lingered on Shadow’s tiny head betrayed her words.

Two months might not seem like much, but in this small bubble you’d carved out together, it felt like a lifetime. Shadow had become a symbol of something neither of you wanted to say out loud—something warm, safe, and maybe even hopeful.

As you tinkered with a half-finished gadget on the floor, Shadow bumped into your side, his tiny paws pawing at the edge of your jacket. Sevika glanced over from her chair, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Guess he likes you more,” she said, her tone amused.

You grinned, scooping Shadow into your arms as he meowed in protest. “Nah, I’m just the backup. You’re his favorite.”

Sevika snorted but didn’t argue, leaning back in her chair as she watched the two of you. Maybe she didn’t mind being someone’s favorite after all.

Or well, another person's favorite.

It had been six months. Six months since you stumbled into her life and somehow bound you and Sevika closer together in a way you never thought possible. Six months of living under the same roof, sharing quiet mornings, heated arguments, and nights spent laughing softly over a card game or falling asleep against her shoulder.

You weren’t sure why you’d waited this long to ask, but tonight felt different.

Sevika sat in her usual spot, her mechanical arm resting on the table while she idly ran her fingers through Shadow’s fur. You were on the couch, nervously picking at the edge of your sleeve, the question burning on your tongue.

“Sev?” you started softly, drawing her attention.

She glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

You hesitated, shifting in your seat. “Why have you let me stay for so long?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. Sevika frowned slightly, leaning back in her chair as if buying herself time to think.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice low and guarded. “You just… stuck around.”

“That’s not an answer,” you pressed, leaning forward. “I mean, you’re you. Tough, no-nonsense, doesn’t-let-anyone-get-close Sevika. And I’m… well, me.”

Sevika huffed, her lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Yeah, you’re a pain in my ass.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t let her deflect. “Be serious for a second. Do you… do you like me or something?”

Her expression shifted, her smirk fading as she stared at you, the silence stretching uncomfortably long.

You swallowed hard, suddenly unsure if you wanted to hear the answer. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t, I just—”

“Shut up,” Sevika interrupted, her tone gruff but lacking any real heat.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t,” she muttered, looking away as a faint pink dusted her cheeks.

Your heart skipped a beat. “So… you do?”

Sevika let out a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

You grinned despite yourself, the nervous energy bubbling into something lighter, warmer. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Don’t push your luck,” she warned, but the corner of her mouth twitched into a reluctant smile.

That was all the answer you needed.

You smirked as you stood, the warmth in your chest giving you a burst of confidence. You sauntered over to Sevika, leaning against the table as her eyes tracked your every move.

“Come on, Sev,” you teased, crossing your arms as you tilted your head at her. “Why won’t you just admit it? Afraid it’ll ruin your big, tough image?”

Her jaw tightened slightly, her eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her chair, trying to play it cool. “You’re pushing your luck,” she muttered, but the faint flush on her cheeks betrayed her.

You leaned in closer, your face hovering just inches from hers. “Am I?” you whispered, your voice dripping with playful challenge. “Because I think you like having me around. Maybe even a little too much.”

Sevika’s eyes flickered to your lips for a split second before snapping back to your gaze, her stoic mask cracking ever so slightly. “Don’t get cocky,” she warned, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

You chuckled softly, your grin widening. “Oh, but it’s so fun to see you squirm, Sev. Who knew the infamous Sevika could be so shy?”

She let out an exasperated groan, running a hand down her face. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” you replied, straightening up and throwing your arms out with a playful shrug. “Still here after six months. Still stealing your bed. Still driving you absolutely crazy.”

Sevika’s lips twitched into a smirk of her own, her sharp eyes softening as she shook her head. “You’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for strays,” she said, her voice low and almost fond.

Your heart skipped at her words, and your smirk softened into something more genuine. “And maybe you’re lucky I’m too stubborn to leave.”

Sevika rolled her eyes, but the way her gaze lingered on you told you everything she wouldn’t say out loud.

Sevika stiffened slightly, her breath hitching just a bit as your hand grazed her thigh. Her sharp eyes narrowed, but you could see the faintest tinge of pink creeping up her neck.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sev?” you teased, leaning in just a little closer, your voice low and playful. “You never really talk about it. Do you ever think about… me?”

Her gaze flickered to your hand on her leg, and you could practically see the thoughts running through her mind, trying to maintain her cool but failing to fully hide the flush rising on her face.

“I—" She cleared her throat, her voice coming out rougher than usual. "I think you're pushing your luck even further, kid."

You grinned, sliding your hand just a little higher, your touch light but undeniably intentional. “Just curious, Sev. Thought you’d like a little honesty, especially when you’re always keeping things so tight-lipped.”

Sevika shifted in her seat, her jaw clenched as she shot you a pointed look. “You’re getting a bit too comfortable.” Her voice was thick with restraint, but there was something in the way her lips pressed together, something you couldn’t quite place.

“Maybe I am,” you hummed, not backing off, your hand inching just a little higher on her thigh as you took a step closer. “But I have to admit, I’m curious… Do you ever think about what it’d be like if I wasn’t just some ‘kid’ to you?”

The tension in the air was palpable now, Sevika’s body language a mix of annoyance and… something else. You could feel her muscles tightening, but she didn’t move away.

“Stop messing around,” she muttered, though there was no real bite behind her words. Instead, her eyes stayed locked on you, a silent challenge hanging in the air between you.

And you could tell… she didn’t want to admit it, but she was enjoying this—this strange back and forth, this undeniable chemistry that neither of you were willing to fully acknowledge.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a playful smirk as your fingers barely grazed her inner thigh, making her tense under your touch. “You know,” you murmured, your voice dripping with confidence, “I’m not some naive teenager, Sev. I’m a grown woman. Maybe it’s time you start seeing me as one.”  

Her jaw tightened, and she shifted ever so slightly, her metal fingers twitching against the armrest of the couch. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” she growled, though her voice lacked its usual venom.  

You leaned in closer, your breath brushing against her ear as you whispered, “Am I? Or are you just scared of what happens if you stop pretending I’m just some kid to you?”  

Her sharp inhale told you everything. Her gaze snapped to yours, a mix of irritation and something far more vulnerable swirling in her steel-gray eyes. She was trying to hold her ground, to keep the walls up, but the cracks were beginning to show.  

“Don’t push me,” Sevika muttered, her voice low but wavering slightly.  

“Why not?” you asked, tilting your head as you brushed your thumb against her thigh again, the teasing touch sending a jolt through her. “Afraid you might actually like what happens next?”  

Her glare hardened, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. For once, Sevika seemed completely out of her depth, caught between wanting to shove you away and pulling you closer.

Sevika's eyes widened slightly as you slid onto her lap, your boldness catching her completely off guard. Her metal arm rested stiffly at her side, while her other hand hovered awkwardly near your waist, as if unsure whether to push you off or let you stay.

You leaned in closer, your fingers gently threading through her short, dark hair. “Why don’t you just admit it, Sev?” you murmured, your voice soft but laced with a teasing edge. “You’re into me. I can see it in the way you look at me.”

Her jaw tightened, her gaze darting anywhere but your face. “You’re full of yourself,” she muttered, though her usual gruff tone lacked its bite.

“Oh, am I?” you teased, leaning in just enough that your noses almost brushed. Your fingers continued their slow, deliberate path through her hair, and you could feel the way her body stiffened beneath you. “Then why aren’t you telling me to get off your lap?”

She let out a low growl, her hand finally settling on your waist as though to steady you. “You’re testing my patience,” she warned, though the faint flush creeping up her neck told a different story.

You couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Or maybe,” you whispered, your lips hovering near her ear, “I’m proving a point.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, you swore you saw her resolve waver. But Sevika, ever stubborn, clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes at you. “You’re playing with fire,” she said, her voice low and dangerous.

You smirked, your fingers lightly tracing the curve of her jaw. “Good thing I’ve never been afraid to get burned.”

Sevika’s eyes locked onto yours as you spoke, the teasing, playful energy suddenly slipping into something more genuine. Her breath caught slightly, her usual guarded expression faltering for just a moment, like a brief crack in her armor.

You let the silence hang between you, the weight of your words settling into the space around you. "I’ve liked you for a while, Sev," you murmured, your voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something raw. "Ever since I first saw you, honestly."

Her brow furrowed slightly, her gaze flicking to your lips before meeting your eyes again, confusion and something else flickering there. "What do you mean?" she asked, her tone almost defensive, like she was trying to figure out whether this was some kind of joke or not.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. Instead, you continued, your voice steady. "I didn’t really realize it until you took me in. Until I started seeing the real you, not just the tough exterior you put on for everyone else."

Sevika was still, silent for a beat. Then, she sighed, her hand tightening subtly on your waist. “You’re an idiot,” she muttered, but it was gentler than usual, the words softer, almost affectionate.

You leaned in closer, your nose brushing hers ever so slightly as you whispered, “Maybe. But I think you like it.”

Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath, and she didn’t pull away. Her lips parted slightly as if she were about to say something, but the words seemed to get stuck in her throat.

Then, in a moment of pure honesty, she let out a soft, resigned chuckle. "You’re not easy to ignore, you know that?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the admission. And for the first time, Sevika’s usual cold exterior seemed to melt away just enough for you to see a glimpse of what might have been beneath all the layers.

You leaned in just a little closer, your voice low and teasing. "So, are you only good at the rough stuff, or can you actually show some affection, too?" You smirked, your eyes flicking between her lips and her eyes, watching her reaction closely.

Sevika froze for a split second, her breath hitching. The playful edge in your voice clearly got under her skin, her jaw tightening. She was always so composed, so in control, but you were starting to see that she wasn’t as unshakable as she wanted everyone to believe.

She didn’t say anything at first—just stared at you, her expression unreadable, the tension between you thick. Then, without warning, she surged forward, her lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

It was rough—there was no sweetness, no hesitation. Just a fierce, almost desperate need that you hadn’t expected. She pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly against her as if to prove that she could do more than just words. It was everything you’d teased her about and more, but with an intensity that felt far from the casual, playful act you’d imagined.

When she finally pulled back, her lips lingering a fraction of an inch from yours, you were both breathless. She smirked, her voice low and almost rasping. "I can do affection," she muttered, her hand resting lightly on the back of your neck. "I just don’t do it for everyone."

Your pulse was racing, your heart hammering in your chest, as you caught your breath. "Guess I’m not just anyone, huh?" you whispered, still trying to keep up the teasing, but the words came out softer than you intended.

You giggle softly as Sevika pulled you into another kiss, you wrap your arms around her neck, gently rubbing her scalp, feeling her tongue wrap around yourself, tasting the lingering taste of her earlier snack.

Sevika's hands slid down your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. She was always so sure of herself, her strength evident even in the gentleness of her touch. As your fingers threaded through her hair, she let out a low hum against your lips, the sound vibrating against your chest. Her scent was familiar, warm, and comforting, mixing with the sweetness of the snack she'd had earlier, but you didn't mind. Every moment with her felt like its own kind of fire, both consuming and soothing in equal measure.

You could feel her smile, even if only faintly, as she pulled away for a breath, her forehead resting against yours. The energy between you two was always electric, and she seemed to enjoy drawing it out, savoring the closeness.

"You're distracting me," she murmured, her voice a rough whisper. "But I don't mind."

"So pretty," you gently mumble against her lips, feeling how her thighs flexed, rubbing together, seeming to want to ease the ache between them.

Sevika’s breath hitched at your words, her grip tightening around you as her body subtly shifted. The heat between the two of you was undeniable, a slow burn that made it hard to think straight. She pressed her forehead against yours again, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment, a small, amused smirk playing on her lips.

"You always know how to make me feel… dangerous," she murmured, her voice low, full of that teasing edge she always carried.

Her thighs flexed again, the tension building in the way she moved, but it was as if she was holding herself back, savoring the moment of restraint. You could feel the way her pulse quickened, her body betraying the calm she tried to maintain.

"You have no idea," she murmured, voice thick with desire, her lips curling into a smirk that was both sultry and feral. "But... you’re gonna find out, aren’t you?" She reached for you again, hands finding your hips, pulling you closer with an intensity that left no room for hesitation.

Her gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, the space between you charged with the kind of tension that only one thing could resolve. Her teeth flashed as she gave you a knowing grin. "I’m not the one who's in control here anymore, am I?"

“Fuck no,” you scoffed as you plant a kiss against her lips before slowly rubbing her neck— before slowly lowering yourself to your knees, nails scraping at the fabric of her pants- “Do me the favor of taking those off will you?” you hum, half jokingly.

Sevika’s breath hitched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, the command in your voice sending a shiver through her body. She gave a low chuckle, her hands gripping the waistband of her pants with a purposeful slowness, as though savoring every moment of this. Her gaze was intense, predatory even, as she watched you, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.

With a teasing smile, she finally gave in, slowly pulling her pants down, revealing more of her body to you with a deliberate confidence that made your heart race.

She stepped out of the pants, eyes never leaving yours, her smirk never faltering. “There. Happy now?” Her voice was low, rough—her usual composed demeanor slowly slipping away in the face of the heat between you two.

“Of course I am, how could I not?” you hum appreciatively, gently nudging her legs apart, sighing softly at the apparent wet spot on her panties, hissing in a breath with a soft fuck.

Sevika’s eyes darkened as she felt the shift in your touch, her breath coming quicker at the sight of your reaction to her. The tension between you both was palpable, thick with desire and anticipation. She spread her legs just a little more, offering herself to you, her lips parting slightly as she inhaled deeply, her whole body betraying her desperation.

"Careful," she murmured, her voice a little raspier now. "I’m not as patient as I seem... and I know exactly what you’re thinking." She smirked, her fingers curling into the fabric of her shirt as if to keep herself from reaching for you immediately. Her hips tilted just slightly, an invitation, her body a taut coil of restraint and need.

She leaned forward, her voice a low rasp as she whispered, "Show me how much you really want it."

You hum in response before you slowly scoot between her legs pushing the fabric to the side, tracing a slow line up her warm folds.

Sevika's breath caught, her thighs tensing at your teasing touch. Her composure faltered as a sharp inhale escaped her lips, her usual control slipping with every slow movement you made. Her dark eyes were heavy-lidded, filled with raw desire and challenge.

"You're playing a dangerous game," she warned, though her voice had a breathy edge that betrayed her own anticipation.

You grinned, unfazed by her words. "And yet you’re still sitting here," you teased, tracing your fingers along the slickness that had already begun to pool between her thighs.

Her hips jerked involuntarily, and her head tilted back slightly, revealing the tension rippling through her body. “Keep that up, and I won’t be responsible for what happens next," she growled, though the tremble in her voice hinted at how much restraint she was clinging to.

You leaned closer, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "Maybe that’s exactly what I want," you murmured against her flesh before slipping a finger inside her, the heat and tightness drawing a low, guttural moan from deep in her throat.

Her hips bucked as you added another finger, curling them just right, making Sevika grip the edge of her seat. Her eyes flashed open, locking onto yours. “Fuck,” she hissed, a rare vulnerability slipping through her otherwise formidable demeanor.

“You’re not as tough as you act when I’ve got you like this,” you whispered, pressing deeper, savoring the way her body clenched around you. “Are you?”

Her laughter was ragged, more of a breathless groan. “Oh, I’m still tougher than you can handle,” she shot back, though the desperation in her tone betrayed just how much she was unraveling under your touch.

“Guess I’ll just have to test that theory,” you quipped, quickening your pace and watching Sevika shudder as pleasure overtook her, her usual dominance giving way to the primal need building between you both.

“Tell me,” you exhale softly, gently thrusting your fingers before pulling them back, watching Sevika’s body stutter– “what's it like having a street fucking you right now? any criticism?”

Sevika’s head fell back against the chair with a guttural groan, her lips parting as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands gripped the armrests tightly, the muscles in her forearms flexing as if she was holding back the urge to grab you and take control.

Her eyes met yours, dark and smoldering, and a breathy laugh escaped her lips. “Criticism?” she rasped, her voice thick with arousal. “Yeah, I’ve got one.”

You raised a brow, pausing your movements just enough to make her squirm, your fingers still teasing her dripping core. “Oh? Let’s hear it, then.”

Sevika gave you a crooked smirk, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “You talk too much,” she growled, her tone half teasing, half desperate. Her hips bucked slightly, seeking more of the pleasure you were withholding. “Less questions, more action.”

You chuckled, leaning closer until your lips hovered over hers. “Funny, coming from someone who can’t stop moaning my name.”

Her jaw clenched, a flicker of defiance lighting her eyes. But the way her body quivered beneath your touch, the way her thighs tensed as you thrust your fingers deeper again, told a different story. A broken moan escaped her lips, her resolve cracking as you curled your fingers just right, dragging another wave of pleasure from her.

“Fuck,” she hissed, her voice strained. “Fine. You win this round… but don’t think for a second I won’t get you back for this.”

You grinned, picking up your pace, watching Sevika’s composure unravel completely. “Looking forward to it.”

You eventually pull your fingers out, much to Sevika dislike but when you slowly lick a warm stripe through her folds she wished you'd done it sooner-

Sevika’s sharp inhale filled the room, her body jolting as your tongue made contact. Her thighs trembled on either side of your head, the usual iron grip of control slipping away entirely. A low, guttural moan escaped her lips, raw and unfiltered.

"Fuck—" she hissed through clenched teeth, her hand instinctively tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as if she couldn’t bear any distance between you. "Took you long enough."

You smirked against her heat, dragging your tongue slowly and deliberately through her slick folds again, savoring the way her muscles tensed beneath your touch. “Impatient, huh?” you teased, your voice muffled by the intensity of her arousal.

Sevika only groaned in response, her grip tightening, silently demanding more. You obliged, flattening your tongue against her clit before swirling it with just the right amount of pressure. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and her deep voice cracked into something breathy and desperate.

"Fuck... just like that," she muttered, the commanding edge in her tone softening under the weight of her pleasure.

You hummed in satisfaction, the vibration earning another shudder from Sevika. Every swipe of your tongue and gentle suction made her unravel further, the tension in her body coiling tighter with every second.

“You gonna admit I’m doing something right?” you teased between licks, though your focus remained intent on driving her wild.

Sevika’s laugh was rough and breathless. "Keep going, and I just might," she managed to gasp, though her body was already betraying any need for words.

“cum?” you giggled, the sound being cut off as Sevika’s thighs squished your head, making you moan softly against her.

Sevika groaned loudly, her thighs trembling as they squeezed around your head, locking you in place. “You think this is funny?” she rasped, her voice strained and dripping with need. "We'll see how much you're laughing when I—" Her words faltered as you flicked your tongue faster, pressing harder against her sensitive clit.

The moan that tore from her chest was deep and raw, and the pressure of her thighs only intensified, muffling your giggles into soft vibrations against her. The sensation made her whole body shudder, her grip in your hair relentless.

“Fuck,” she gasped, her composure cracking completely, "you—damn tease..." Her voice broke off into a strangled cry as you sucked just right, pushing her closer to the edge with each passing second.

Her hips jerked forward, chasing the release that was building so intensely it almost overwhelmed her. “Don’t stop," she demanded, her tone desperate now. "I swear—just..."

You hummed again, doubling down on your efforts, feeling the tremors wrack her body as her control shattered entirely. Sevika's breathing grew ragged, her moans turning into incoherent cries as the pleasure finally overtook her.

"Fuck—!" she shouted, her thighs trembling around your head as her climax hit hard, her entire body taut and shuddering beneath your relentless attention. Even as she rode out her orgasm, her grip never wavered, keeping you pressed against her until every last wave of pleasure left her breathless.

When her thighs finally loosened their grip, Sevika let out a long, shaky exhale, her body slackening in the aftermath. "You really think you're funny," she murmured, voice hoarse but tinged with amusement.

You lifted your head, lips glistening as you grinned. "I think you love it."

Sevika snorted, though her flushed skin and softened gaze betrayed her. "Yeah, yeah... maybe."

“I know you're old but– how about another round? or two? Shadow’s sleeping on the bed but- i'm sure he doesn't mind being kicked out for a few hours…” you hum cockily.

Sevika’s lips curved into a dangerous smirk, the gleam in her eyes rekindling. “Old, huh?” she rumbled, her voice low and gravelly. “Careful, or I’ll have to remind you just what this ‘old’ woman can do.”

You giggled, brushing off the mock threat. “Sounds like a challenge. Think you can keep up?”

Sevika sat up slowly, her muscular frame still radiating dominance despite the flush lingering from her release. "Oh, you’re not walking away from this anytime soon," she promised darkly, fingers brushing your cheek before trailing down your body. "Shadow better find another place to sleep tonight."

As if on cue, the kitten stirred lazily from his spot on the bed, oblivious to the brewing heat between you two.

“You think he’ll hold a grudge?” you teased, already feeling the ache of anticipation building again.

Sevika chuckled, a deep and satisfied sound. “Not as much as your legs will tomorrow.”

Before you could offer a retort, her hands gripped your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto the mattress. Her lips brushed your ear as she whispered, “Let’s see if you can keep that cocky attitude after round two.”

And from the glint in her eyes, you knew she was about to deliver on that promise—and then some.

—

Sevika woke up slowly, groaning as the ache in her back hit her like a freight train. The stiff, sore muscles screamed in protest, and she immediately regretted the way she’d slept. The bed felt too empty, her mind still clouded from the night before. And then, she noticed the marks.

Hickeys. Everywhere. Stinging, tender bites down her neck, across her collarbone, the curve of her breast. Her stomach was covered in sharp, almost painful reminders of what had happened. Her nipples were sore, too sensitive for her own comfort, a stark contrast to the usual hard edge of her usual self.

The absence of your warmth next to her felt jarring. She twisted in the bed, searching the room for any sign of you, and that’s when she noticed the open window. You were gone. Again. 

Fucking hell.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the lingering haze of last night. What the hell had gotten into her? She wasn’t the type for this kind of thing—at least, that’s what she kept telling herself. But then, when she closed her eyes, all she could remember was the way your hands had felt on her, the desperate, frantic way you’d begged, the taste of your skin– the way your ate her out in the perfect fucking way.

Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away as she got up and started to get dressed.  

A few minutes later, a sound caught her attention from outside her door—a soft, tentative knock, followed by the creak of the door opening.  

And there you were, standing in the doorway.  

You looked like shit.  

Your hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions, and there were dark bruises down your arms and legs. Your skin was covered in more marks—hickeys, smudged lipstick, and... something else, a kind of glow that made Sevika pause for a moment, something strange in her chest.

You held a small bag of food in your hands, offering it like it was some kind of peace offering.  

“I... uh... brought you food,” you mumbled, shuffling your feet awkwardly, eyes avoiding hers.  

Sevika’s eyes softened slightly, even though her irritation was still simmering beneath the surface. She took the bag, half-smiling as she inspected the contents. Sure, the food was stale, probably a bit old, but the gesture was enough to make her heart skip a beat in a way she couldn’t quite explain.  

“Stale food. Real thoughtful, Street Rat,” she teased, though her voice lacked its usual sharp edge. She glanced up at you, her gaze lingering a little longer than it should have. 

You were messed up, too—maybe even worse than she was. But it wasn’t just the bruises or the hickeys; it was the way you looked at her. That soft, almost unrecognizable look in your eyes. The glow, the fragile hope that maybe you were more than just another thing to be thrown away. 

Sevika sighed, leaning back against the table, rubbing her temples.  

“Just... next time, don’t get yourself killed, okay?” she grumbled, though the words didn’t have the same bite.  

You nodded quietly, offering her a small, crooked smile that made her heart tighten in a way she didn’t want to admit. 

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered.  

And for a moment, Sevika wondered if maybe, just maybe, you had her in a way she was– okay with admitting, just once.

[grandlinedreams]

“What,” Mihawk begins, “is that.”

It’s not so much a question as a demand for an answer and even with as mild as his tone is, you still have to take a moment to find your confidence again, adjusting your grip on the object in question. 

“A kitten,” you answer. The kitten in question is little more than a mess of jet black fur and a pair of small, pointed ears that dangles limply in your hold, mewing as Mihawk stares at it. “He kind of looks like you, doesn’t he?”

Mihawk’s eyes narrow a fraction. True, the kitten is black like his hair, and the pair of eyes that peer at him are round and the same shade of gold as his own – but that, in his opinion, is where the similarities stop. “Hardly.” 

“Hardly,” you echo, pitching your tone deeper in playful mockery as you bring the kitten closer to your chest, scratching underneath his chin until he starts purring. “Don’t be so grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy.”

You kiss the top of the kitten’s head, humming at the tickle of soft fur against your lips. “Says you.” The kitten mews in agreement – not so much at your words, but at the attention you’re currently giving him. 

“Where did you find it?”

“Him,” you correct.

Mihawk stares at you and were it not undoubtedly beneath him, he’d roll his eyes at your persistence. “Where did you find him,” he amends, and you grin. Mihawk looks less than amused. “I hope you weren’t wandering around again. The humandrills–”

“Are friendly,” you cut in, “and I can handle myself. You know that. And besides, it gets lonely when you’re off doing who knows what.” You really don’t know what he gets up to when he leaves Kuraigana, only that he’s unscathed every time and recounts (undoubtedly heavily edited) events with an ever present air of boredom in his voice when you ask. “But to answer your question, I don’t know how he even survived long enough to end up here, but he was out near the shore.” You snuggle the little kitten to your face again. “Poor thing almost died.”

For a moment, Mihawk wonders if he should fancy himself jealous of how much attention the cat is getting from you, but that’s beneath him too – besides, he’s the one that you sleep next to at night. 

“I’m keeping him,” you say and Mihawk watches you, head tilting as he arches an eyebrow in question. 

“You are?”

“Yes,” you answer firmly, and the kitten offers his own opinion in the form of an indignant mewl, followed by a yawn of tiny, sharp white teeth and brief glimpse of a pink tongue before he tucks himself against you. 

Mihawk sighs. “Very well. But he is not sleeping in the bedroom with us.”

(The kitten does, in fact, end up sleeping in your shared bedroom. And Mihawk decides that yes, even if it’s just a little bit, he is indeed jealous of that tiny kitten.)

[scribeofmorpheus]

Veilguard Review: Doom Upon the World

Warnings: Spoilers for Veilguard, very political review (considers race, gender, religion and choice consequences centred around established Thedas).

Another long post: 4k words

In my first review (Love, Wisdom and Pride), I focused on the relationships most pivotal to Solas’ arc reaching resolution: Inquisitor and Mythal (though heavily Solavellan inspired, I tried to be aware of how the Inquisitor’s role as a rival/friend outside of romance was still considered as an important relationship in his story). This review, on the other hand, will focus on the worldstate and what we lost [x], as well as my speculations on which story beats/companions/advisors I feel should have been integrated into the story for a deeper emotional payoff for past Dragon Age players (and overall story cohesion).  

EDIT: Why Dragon Age Veilguard isn't a "Cathedral" thread (very important tet-a-tet about understanding game development politics--especially what was happening in Bioware)

N.B: This review is definitely a critique of something I love, born from love, because—yes, I had expectations; yes, they were high; no, I don’t think that’s a problem; no, I do not hate the game we got, but I mourn for what the devs clearly were building towards with the last 3 games in the series, and from what we know from the internal struggles with Bioware under EA’s helm (as evidence from the development time, layoffs, staff’s disappointment, and the differences between the final game and the concept art) the only thing getting in the way of a truly epic game was corporate meddling and greed.

Spoilers below the cut.

Without further ado, the primary criticism I have is that Varric should not have been our advisor! I read a post somewhere that succinctly surmised the that Varric was chosen as our Advisor so that:

Solas would make an “irredeemable” mistake for all the Solas haters to use as an excuse to simply view him as an antagonist, simplifying the goal of the game to: stop the elf from bringing down the Veil.

Varric was used for marketing purposes rather than story depth choices; he’s popular, beloved and an easy carrot for the EA stick to dangle in front of loyal fans.

His writer has literally been trying to kill him off for the last 2 games! Varric was supposed to die in Inquisition! (lol) [EDIT: Just want to clear up one mistake I wrote here--I say Mary Kirby (Varric's Author) was trying to kill him off since D2, but I meant the scrapped Exalted March DLC helmed by Gaider, and then someone else wanted to kill him off in Inquisition (Mary, I'm sorry I accidentally passed a fib about you!)]

I firmly believe he should have been holding the blight back in Kirkwall, and that his position as Viscount of Kirkwall should have affected the outcome of the blight spreading in the South!

Advisors in the North

Right off the bat, the two best choices for advisor, (excluding the Inquisitor out of favouritism) should have been Dorian and Morrigan.

Dorian: because we’re in the North, the Shadow Dragons are by far the more “grassroots organisation against imperial power” kind of organised body the Inquisition started out as. Since we don’t have a calling to fight against like the Wardens in Origins or a family to try and keep together in a city on the brink of implosion like Hawke, or a pseudo religious-political body to inspire Hope in the faithful like the Inquisitor, Valour, Love and Hope cannot be at the heart of this story. It has to be JUSTICE [x].

Justice for the culmination of Anders’ story; for Merril and everything she endured to repair the eluvian; for Fenris, the origin of his lyrium tattoos (which according to GhilDirthalen’s post, there was a plot point linked to elves whose lyrium bodies did not possess latent magical prowess) and the slaves in Tevinter; for the rebelling elves that should have formed factions as the Dread Wolf’s Agents like the Trespasser epilogue hinted at; for misunderstood spirits hurt by mages like Cole; for the ancient elves like Abelas; for the templars who saw the corruption in their ranks but had no way out because of lyrium addiction like Sampson; for those corrupted by red lyrium that was spreading throughout Thedas with no cause or cure; for the dwarves like Branka, obsessed with the answers held in the Anvil of the Void, or Harding, or Shaper Valta who saw a Titan and witnessed the death of the Legion of the Dead; for Sandal’s prophecy!; for the qunari oppressed by the Qun, turned talvashoth, searabas, hisraad like Bull! Justice for two decades worth of worldbuilding on the part of the writers and the devs who loved telling these stories.  

Morrigan: is self-explanatory to the story they were crafting between Solas and Mythal. And what would have been even better is if they actually just explained away the Well of Sorrows’ choice unaffecting the Inquisitor because Morrigan eventually had to assimilate the essence from the well to keep the Inquisitor from going mad—like the anchor had to be tempered by Solas in Trespasser. Easy as that!

The best part is that pitting Morrigan and Dorian as foils of each other further allows the game to have greater stakes and tension because Morrigan (changed by Mythal’s righteous anger and need for justice for what was done to her by the Evanuris) could champion making choices more detrimental to Thedas but ultimately in line with Solas’ plans. And Dorian could make choices that put the safety of Thedas’ citizens at the forefront by sacrificing headway in stopping Solas and his Agents from advancing with their plans!

Best yet, we could have had a hardened vs softened Dorian depending on whether you recruited him in Inquisition, and/or did his quest.

[Inquisitor concept art by Matt Rhodes]

Favouritism Bonus Round: The Inquisitor (or alternatively Morrigan) should have been the voice to champion Rook to seek out the wolf statues, and they should have been present when discussing the memories, as it would have given them more gravitas when uncovering the literal story of "Solas is Andrastian God creating the Veil" or "the Dalish Dread Wolf is being proven to be a saviour" or "Elves originally being spirits in the beginning", or "Titans were at war with the elves" beyond comments like: “Oh, Solas regrets this” or “They were doing it”. (This is the issue with having a “couch setting” for a “war room”—discussions feel less intellectual, factions don’t necessarily bring their own unique viewpoint into the interpretation of Solas’ decisions/Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain’s presence, etc.) Everyone is not digesting the material given like it’s a clue to stopping the world from ending but rather like gossip. With the Inquisitor, as either a friend to Solas, a rival or a romanced Lavellan, finally finding the Dread Wolf’s Achilles Heel after vowing to stop him would have rung true, closed the loop.

Sigh.

This is also why I feel the Inquisitor should have been the one in Varric’s place—like literally. I mean recovering from an injury after failing to catch up to Solas in ACT 1, possibly dispatched by Agents of Fen'Harel! Because they could then be forced to pass the mantle to hunt down Solas to “Rook”. Not dead. Or a blood magic illusion. Just, Inquisitor, wounded, making small talk, sometimes bringing up plot points from Inquisition—your Hawke on the battlements in DA:I or Alistair in the gardens with Morrigan and Keiran.

It would also make more sense for the Inquisitor to be able to use the eluvian to travel between Skyhold and the Lighthouse, allowing for believable absences during plot points where their lack of action inspite of their presence wouldn’t make sense. Not to mention more gut-wrenching if we heard about the South from Inky rather than reading 4 letters!

Previously, I stated how the Inquisitor’s presence needed more weight in the non-Solavellan endings! Some people’s Inquisitor befriended Solas, some hated him, either way, the Inquisitor should have been present for the final showdown beyond a passive observer! If the Inquisitor ended up being the last friend/former love that Solas destroys (in a bad worldstate end where you don’t collect Mythal’s essence), which then prompts Rook to fight him because Solas’ last tie to empathy failed to redeem him, that would have added so many layers! The Inquisitor falling is the last straw for Solas too, whether friend, lover or foe, he fought beside them, stopped Corypheus with them! The Inquisitor was partially his making of a hero; his first “good” mistake! It would then make sense for him to snap, choosing to be a villain in the hopes of being stopped because he can’t stop himself, he’s come too far! Rather than the ‘I am a God’ ending they gave us.

Agency of a “Rook” on an Empty Chess Set (Factions and Backstory)

Personally, from both a writing and a viewer’s perspective, I think our protagonist should have always been linked to the Shadow Dragons (and the factions choices shouldn’t have been incorporated). This is more because, framing one’s backstory as being a member of a faction—not a people with established political positions in Tevinter—siphons the narrative of personal stakes. Imagine being a mage who could have begun with higher approval in Tevinter but lower elsewhere, maybe they’d be saved from the Venatori’s thrall that was linked to Neve’s companion story—again linked to Ashur and the Dragons. Or an elf mage could begin a storyline like that of the city elf in da:o but focused on the Shadow Dragons’ tackling slavery’s presence in Tevinter. A Qunari origin could explore being a refugee aided by the Shadow Dragons as they flee the Qun because they don’t fit in the dogmatic religion. A warden could be a criminal in Tevinter, showing us what is considered ‘rules for criminality’ in a city that corrupt and extremist.

Overall, the factions don’t add much diversity to Rook’s background, backstory, dialogue tree or influence on the world state beyond a last name that doesn’t really matter. With a Shadow Dragons’ background, the very ethos of “Rook” would have been about overcoming oppression, and then the nickname makes sense too, a name to stay concealed, to keep loved ones safe while DAV’s protagonist battles politics, blood mages and blighted gods. It would have been even more meaningful if the nickname “Rook” paralleled “Dread Wolf”, in that it was bestowed by your origin-based backstory antagonist and then used as a call to freedom (we wouldn’t even need a cutscene, this could have been revealed in part of their banter/dialogue). This simple choice would have allowed us to focus on Treviso and the Antaam’s occupation and Tevinter and the Venatori’s rise to power on a more personal level. It would also place our Rook in a position to be a foil to Solas’ “do what is necessary for the greater good” vs “be better than those that came before” plot lines. Building off this, the hardened companion status between Neve and Lucanis should have formed a parallel, with one tilting towards understanding Solas’ extreme efforts to stop the Gods, whereas the non-hardened character should have taken the role of foil. Both of whom would add balance to the tension when discussing Solas’ memories or even in exploration banter during missions (one the “devil” on your shoulder, the other your “angel” depending on where Solas’ actions stand for you since Inquisition).

Finally, the Shadow Dragons' should have been linked to Dorian more directly, potentially created with backing/support from the Inquisition’s advisors/Inquisitor directly (since their default attire is the Shadow Dragon apparel).

Companions: Cole for Compassion; Briala for Rebellion and Revenge

Cole

In my review Love, Widsom and Pride, I briefly touched on the fact Cole (whether recruited, not recruited, kept spirit or changed human) was absolutely necessary as a companion. Because it doesn’t matter which version was present in the world (RIP the tapestry), every iteration of Cole works synergistically with appealing to Solas’ spirit side:

If he wasn’t recruited in Inquisition, he could simply have his default origins as a compassion spirit that ‘follows’ the greatest pain in the Fade that yearns to be healed, giving a compassionate viewpoint to Solas’ folly.

Recruited-to-the-Inquisition Spirit Cole could have a greater connection to Solas than even Varric, seeing as Cole was most likely a literal representation of Solas rewriting his own history of corruption by preventing a spirit from becoming something against its nature.

Human Cole would have a deeper connection to the world of Thedas, and could have been a great tool to prove how change was inevitable, not always a bad thing, and inevitably out of even Solas’ control. And he could still offer insight into Solas' mind via 'remnants' of the time he was more spirit.

Briala

What I enjoy about this companion head canon is that Briala is literally Solas’ direct parallel story-wise:

She’s in love with Celene, the ‘best’ choice for ruler in Orlais even though she burned Briala’s alienage. They share a great power imbalance, with Celene able to affect the fate of all elves in Orlais, yet is unwilling to free them, return the Dales, or concede power even though she claims to love Briala, too. Briala is a rebellion upstart, raised by Felassan for crying out loud. She controlled the eluvians and knew how to get around the crossroads, she has more of a bone to pick with Solas than any other NPC not close to the Inquisitor! (Celene and Mythal share many similarities as well, with Celene seen as the more benevolent of rules when compared to Gaspard the Warmonger; and if Gaspard is in power but controlled by Briala, imagine her being dethroned from her seat of power by Agents of Fen’Harel after she lost access to the eluvians, that would have been a great story arc to explore).

Sidenote on DAV's Romance, Companions and Choice Consequence

Building off having either Cole or Briala as a companion, I do think it would have been nice to have them as non-romanceable too. Don’t get me wrong, I know it's great to have options, but I do feel making everyone “pansexual” wasn’t the right way to go for all the companions. It takes away character choice, personality, taste and individualism from the companions. Dorian’s story would not be nearly as impactful if he could have been romanced regardless of gender. Solas being unwilling to romance any race/gender besides female elf (though a direct correlation to the developers being afraid of the ‘evil bisexual’ trope that was popular in the 2010s) also adds to his story; where he’s reluctant to see the world as real, to accept non-elven people as having agency, because that would mean he wasn’t walking through a see of Tranquil, but instead, he was the Forgotten One out of time.

I also firmly believe that a possible reason Cole wasn’t a companion despite there being plans in place that he’d return (Trespasser epilogue slide, I remember you), is because I can 100% see an EA big-wig being like: “He’s unfuckable. Give us someone hot and brooding and slap a demon in them and you’ve got fuckable-Cole” and then we got Lucanis.

I like Lucanis. I’m not crazy about him, but I enjoy the Machiavllian family drama. Very Renaissance Medici story beats. I adore Mary Kirby as a writer, too, but I feel the introduction to the Crows of Antiva should have been Zevran’s mantle, or he should have at least haunted the narrative and missions related to the Crow factions (of which there should definitely have been factions within the Crows). Considering the fact I romanced Lucanis, I couldn’t shake the fact that a lot of his “acceptance for being bound to Spite” beats paralleled a Human Cole having been ‘cured’ from Compassion.

The romances seem less… memorable to me than past games. The importance of choice means you have to accept the story unfolding based on the consequences of your choices; and gender-locking at least one companion would show the cause and effect of beginner choice. Taash is actually written to prefer women over men, which is vital to their arc around gender dysphoria and being non-binary, they would have been a perfect candidate! I imagine their story would also be a great way to explore how being one race attempting to romance another could have a slower progression rate (again, because of Taash’s multi-cultural background, and their complex feelings at having been raised by a mother so tied to the Qun, them being cagier around a qunari Rook romance would also have added layers!) But with everyone available to be romanced, and having no initial repercussion for early game choices despite which character model would have bruises or cuts (Neve or Harding), genuinely roleplaying as Rook, and not as someone using Rook as a stand-in for ourselves, is more disconnected than previous games. This is why the romances feel off to me. Doing the romanceable companions’ storylines seem like I’m the one trying to date them, not Rook. Maybe it’s because Rook’s established personality is the direct repercussion of a sanitized worldstate!  

Foibles of being ‘Unproblematic’: A Sanitised World

The issue with trying to make a game that won’t touch on difficult topics, is that, when you make that game a sequel to a series that was literally built on the backs of tackling real world politics, it makes a lot of the world seem plastic. A poor imitation perhaps.

The World of Thedas book actually tells us that Thedas is a fantasy setting that uses the real world as its backdrop for conflict and world building. Andraste is Joan of Arc. Andrastian faith is Christianity founded by a woman. Orlais is the French bourgeois era. Fereldan is more Highlands/Celtics region if it never had a chance to expand because of the blight. Elves are the disenfranchised (and a direct parallel to popular elven cultures that were often portrayed as the pinnacle of advanced magic/civilisation). City elves live in alienages (literal ghettos). Dalish elves (native to the land) are being run out of their homes, the Orlesian’s are trying to claim the territory for their Empire, and their numbers are dwindling, their culture and language a poor imitation of what it had been, barely surviving colonialisation! Dwarves have a caste system that determines everyone’s future! Dagna had to leave her home! Harding grew up on the surface. Varric’s whole plot thread anchoring him in act 1 of DA2 is helping his brother discover Deep Roads riches so they can get their family’s title again.

And through all 3 games prior to Veilguard, we’re told the Ventaori are monsters, the Imperium is crueller to its elves/slaves than any place in the South! The best option beyond turning Feynriel tranquil in DA2 (one of the few Dream Walker mages) is to send him to Tevinter. What becomes of a half-Dalish mage in Tevinter? Neve, our first companion beside Harding, is determined to make Dock Town a place worth living! So, to walk into Veilguard and have no slavery storylines in a place called the fucking TEVINTER IMPERIUM (modelled after the fucking Roman Empire close to collapse) is so jarring. So unbelievable. What injustice is Neve battling? What woes has Dorian been dealing with in the Magisterium?

The closest we get to seeing the darkness that exists in the world (besides the hanging corpses lining the streets of Dock Town if you save Treviso) is the side quest where a father makes a deal with a demon to keep his child alive by sacrificing so many innocents.

And then there's Tevinter's "savage" neighbours, the Invading forces of the Qun! Frightening, right? But from the blasé manner the Qun's rigidity is discussed, it is framed as though anyone can simply up and leave the Qun if they so wished it, according to Taash’s mom. Yes, Taash is being hunted, and their mom is taken prisoner, but it was all in service to a tablet that discussed fire-breathing, not about returning to the Qun. Iron Bull being deemed talvashoth holds less severity when the consequences of leaving a subjugating, dogmatic, religious-political society are simply... nothing. There's no anchor to Taash being raised in Rivain for safety reasons beyond keeping their fire-breathing secret. And what of all the elves that commit to the Qun? Why are there no elf converts among the Antaam? What about the fucked-up stuff the Dwarves of Kal-Sharok were doing before Veilguard? Kal-Sharok dwarves apparently were changed by the First Blight, and are supposed to have a ‘tainted’ appearance according to the World of Thedas concept art book. Why are they just... normal dudes in booby armour (lol)?

[Imshael! A demon/spirit of choice & Calpernia as potential companions is insanity>>!]

I possibly wouldn’t have these strong opinions if the games gave the companions more… just more ‘controversial’ stories with harder choices! Veilguard in a way feels like playing a game with child-lock on. Yes, what happens to Tevinter or Treviso looks awful when you see it, but the side-quests, companion stories, NPC dialogues and world around the ‘mise-en-scene’ don’t reflect this--it's like set dressing. The “I can’t believe the Venatori are evil” side comments by Rook in Tevinter when the Venatori takes over become whiny, child-like and “hopes and prayers” coded. Do something then, Rook. You are the hero of this story, are you not?

I am forever grateful that Lucanis is actually hardened and removed as a romance interest if you sacrifice Treviso (finally, good old dragon age consequences).

Now onto good criticism of our companions!

Companions: The Good, the Balanced and the Essential

Good: Neve and Davrin.

Neve is our eyes and heart to Dock Town, our humanising presence for the Tevinter Imperium. She is also written in a way that I find her to have the best agency as a non-romanced character than most.

Davrin is a breath of fresh air for the reputation of the Grey Wardens, he’s the genuine article. Him owning up to being young and foolhardy when he rejected the Dalish ways in search of adventure, only to be battle-hardened and then become more appreciative of the fact he was taught to live in harmony before he was exposed to the discord of the Deep Roads is such a good character growth moment.  

Balanced: Harding. Harding grows into a much more invaluable story piece when she unlocks the Stone Sense and uncovers her people’s history. It’s a rather short-sighted choice to have her be one of the Ultimate Sacrifice characters because what becomes of the story of the Stone? Who hears the song? Who will speak of the Titans to other dwarves if she is chosen to go on the final mission?

Essential: Antoine and Evka! No notes, they should have been conditional companions in a side quest! They’re fleshed out so well, and their relationship is real and built into their character, but it’s not all they are! Antoine is smart, hopeful and also tortured by the new blight. Evka is powerful, pragmatic and also caring.

The Red Herring that should have been: Bellara as an Agent of Fen’Harel! Her storyline would have worked with the concept of being found ‘suspicious’ by players if the Agents of Fen’Harel were an active group. A Veil Jumper in Arlathan whose brother got entabgled with a Forgotten One? Someone who is an outright believer in the elven pantheon? O, Bellara, the power you would have had as a possible double-agent in our midst, only for us to have been wrong in doubting her and having it be someone else! Race and position to power should have inforced so many story beats in this game, man!

Finally: Religion, Where?

I’m a little exhausted, so I’ll wrap this part a little quickly. Religion is paramount to understanding the decisions and states of mind of so many characters in Thedas. Leliana’s arc alone is one of the most intimate insights into Andrastian faith! The Inquisitor is literally responsible for appointing the Divine! The Divine can call for an Exalted March! The Black Divine is a huge plot point when discussing the differences between the Southern and Northern iterations of the Chant. Tevinter’s Old Gods (Archdemons) are blighted dragons linked to the Evanuris that whisper the will of their masters to humans. Archdemons are responsible for the Blight, our first “save the world kiddo” moment in da:o! So where is the disbelief in the streets that Elven Gods exist? Why is it always “Our Gods” are back? What about city elves who believe in the Chant of Light? Where is the Black Divine? Why is everyone okay remaining Andrastian when the fact Solas made the Veil is revealed? Where is the politics and religious civil war in the streets between NPCs?! Between companions? Why isn’t there a cultish, zealous group of extreme Andrastians following Solas around? Why isn’t there another version thinking of Solas and all elves as the second coming of Maferath? How are city elves fairing compared to Dalish elves at the reveal it’s their pantheon gunning to end the world? Again! RACE AND POLITICS MATTER! They always mattered in Thedas before, yet here they are anecdotal at best.

The Veil Should Have Come Down

It’s apparent to me, and numerous others, that Veilguard was stunted by its attempts to be an entry piece that wasn’t alienating to new players of the RPG game format, but it was also haunted deeply by it’s very EPIC tapestry mechanic (choices mattered!). Ironically, Veilguard served to be a soft re-boot of the series. This, I think, was the grandest mistake. If they meant to reboot the series for future instalments, we should have fundamentally changed the physics and rules of Thedas completely to allow the next instalment to start from the literal ground up. By bringing down the Veil, we’d finally free the Titans, introduce the concept of Dwarves with magic, awaken the Forgotten Ones and maybe allow for new species/lore/concepts to shape the future. And to work around the tapestry, they could have simply set the next sequel 200 years later. Sent our heroes to rest. Ended with a new canvas.

It should have concluded with the very ending that was prophesied by Sandal in DA2:

“One day the magic will come back. All of it. Everyone will be just like they were. The shadows will part, the skies will open wide. When he rises everyone will see.”

Bonus: Anaris should have been a DLC boss with Fenris involved!

Why, you ask? Just this data-mined codex entry still present in the game:

Truth be told, like they did with Corypheus in the Origins DLC, I think they could very well bring him back as the big bad of DA5—which I think should have always been about fleshing out the war between the Titans / the Forgotten Ones / Evanuris!

Anaris and a waking Titan?! That would have been beyond amazing!

Which… again, is why the Veil should have COME DOWN!

P.S.: I know a lot of these criticisms seem like unhappy nitpicks, but I did enjoy Veilguard, I got an ending I could live with. BUT I am so angry by how many roadblocks are placed before game devs with a clear story in mind--as is obvious with the concept art book. Obvious threads were leading to Veilguard having always been the end of the Dragon AGE! We kill the last Archdemon! The last dragon linked to the Gods and the blight! The game developers have even alluded to having fought tooth and nail with EA's suits, but could only manage to give us the game we got. And I'm beyond grateful. But MAN does it hurt!

Remember to say thank you to the writers/artists/voice actors on their socials, they deserve a little love too.

Fin!

[sang-i-fetge]

List of Jason Todd/Red Hood's weapons/gadgets/touys

Note: This is mostly from comics written by Winick, as I refuse to acknowledge most of n52. Feel free to add more, though!

Note2: This post was originally formatted in a different way, as I foolishly forgot about the image limit.

Blades

1— His iconic dagger!

Can cut through stone, and most of Batman's gear. It's been heavily debated what kind of knife it is; wether a kris, a parrying dagger, or a third secret thing.

2— The blades he gives Mia to defend herself!

I'm not sure what kind of blade they are, they vaguely look like wakizashis? Their size varies from panel to panel so idk😔

3— The katana for the 'duel' with Oliver!

4— And to link with the next section, the exploding katana!

Yes, it's a katana that explodes. Jason baits Oliver into holding it.

Explosives

— First of all, he blows up many many things and it's not specified what exactly he uses. So the unspecified explosives that only appear as a cool fireball panel get a bullet point.

5— The jumble of explosives in the Final Confrontation™️, we can see some dynamite, C4...

6— Bomb in a crate

7— Small bomb. Not lethal!

8— Bigger bomb. Yes lethal.

9— Continuing with this absolute icon: the bomb under the Batmobile (should I capitalize that?)

10— Small Rocket, used against Brick

11— Grenade?

12— Small, cylinder-shaped explosives. Detonated upon impact?

13— Small explosive that attaches to flat surfaces, used against Dr Freeze

14— Grenade.

15— Molotov Cocktail

16— Enough C4 to destroy a whole building, modded so it explodes if its temperature reaches one point, countering Batman's method of freezing bombs.

17— My absolute favorite, the exploding helmet!

Even if it's listed under 'explosives', it's also an important piece of technology in the Red Hood's arsenal.

Firearms

18, 19— The guns in the wall from Annual #25, there's surely more.

20— Machine guns hidden in crates!

21— Machine guns hidden in cars!

22— Rocket launcher, used against Black Mask

23— Even more hidden machine guns! This time in an electricity pole.

24— Machine gun (also hidden, but surprisingly not attached to anything)

25— Handgun👍

26— AK-47, you know the panel from where it's from

27— Submachine guns, I think 🙂

28— When out of ammo he uses his guns as blunt weapons, which I wanted to note

Tasers

29— The nazi-killing taser

30— The reason for the creation of this post! The grapple line taser! Attach it to a grapple line and it will shock whoever is connected to it. Noticed it in a reread of utrh and needed people to see it

31— Bonus: the bat-symbol taser. Iconic enough to be here.

Tech & Surveillance

32— Monitor and microphone?

33, 34— cameras :)

35— thing to see the feed of the cameras

36, 37— phones :)

38— his little tech den in #650

39, 40— computers :)

41— whatever this thing is

42— The surveillance device that looks like he taped a canon camera to his face

43— Wiretaps!

44— Bugs!

He also has his evil lair in B&R2009 bugged.

Miscellaneous

45— Does his crowbar count

46— smoke bomb!!

47— Injectable adrenaline. He just has that in his utility belt.

48— His batmobile-evade suit.

49— Is saying his belt buckle mean

50— Unspecified poison! Goodbye Egon

51— This thing that attaches to its target and launches them off

Not pictured:

The fancy weapon dressing he gives onyx to patch up the shoulder wound he inflicted (I forgot to screenshot 💔)

Also, he has this whole hq-ish thing in Annual #25

(Edit: That rectangle in the gun wall kinda looks like an anti-drone gun now that I think abt it)

It has a murder board, which I think is cute.

[toxicanonymity]

stop playing

3.8k, (dark) slasher!Joel x f!reader

Ty @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for the slasher joel edit and movie poster. And @iamasaddie for the big girthy wrench and the mood board on the master list.

slasher Joel master list | spotify playlist

SUMMARY: Joel fixes and returns your car, pays you a visit, and stuffs you full of his cock and more. WARNINGS: I8+ unsafe dubcon P in V, creampie, m masturbation, crude language and degradation, knifeplay, superficial injury (cut), incidental pussy slap, fisting (be the change you want to see in the world), penetration with wrench A/N:  If something sounds unappealing to you, please quietly skip the fic. This blog is kink-positive. Comments that could have a kink shaming effect may be removed, regardless of intent. Asks: @xdaddysprincessxx and 🔧 anon, ty

“Not here to make love to ya, sweetheart.” His cock twitches against your hand. ”That what ya want?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

You shake your head no, catching his scruff against your cheek. “want ya to fuck me.” 

He chuckles, then puts on an air of sympathy. “Shame. . .that’d be nice. . .” His breath hot on your ear. “Shouldn’t’a left me.”  You try to move and he pins you by your wrists.

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

Joel is in his garage, under your car, finishing up.  Yeah, he didn’t just tow it, he fixed it.  Bet you're an ungrateful bitch about it. You're a brat, but god damn, you can take a dick. He’s never had anyone sink right down and ride him like that.  He vividly recalls the sensation of being swallowed up.  As blood rushes south, his cock strains his jumpsuit, still crusty with your combined juices. Every time he sees or smells it he thinks of how it all leaked out of your used up hole. He wipes his bicep on his forehead, then palms his growing bulge.  He manages to ignore it while he finishes the repair, then rolls out from under your car. 

He sits up on the roller, holding his big, heavy wrench against his thigh. He looks down at his arousal. He wonders if he's getting a beer belly as he sucks in his stomach to better see his engorged bulge.  He unzips his jumpsuit all the way and pulls his T-shirt out from sticking under his pecs. Then he stands up with a groan and adjusts himself. 

He sets his wrench aside and goes to the dingy old bathroom. His mom tried to make it nice, so there's soap and lotion and a little candle, but it hasn't been cleaned in forever. In the filthy mirror, he has motor oil all over his hands, and some on the side of his face. He takes his sleeves off and presses the hardness in his jumpsuit against the low sink as he washes up, then he takes his cock out and holds it in his hand. It's so fat he can barely get his own massive hand around it if he squeezes. You took it like a cock taking queen. He imagines that's what you are as he pumps the lotion into his hand. 

He begins to stroke his raging erection and stares at himself in the mirror as he does it. The mirror lets him see a lot. His jumpsuit is hanging down, mostly out of the picture, the hems of his sleeves skimming the nasty floor as he strokes his cock. His hair is messed up.  He rakes his free hand back through it. His forehead is sweating again as he runs his fist up and down his length. Cheeks are flushed, lips slightly parted, head tilted back as he's beginning to grunt softly with the stroke of his hand. His white t-shirt, stained with oil, stretches over his strong chest and little belly with a little dip of looser fabric in between, under his pecs. His sleeves barely contain his arms and his forearm flexes as he jerks it. 

With his other hand, he takes his boxers under his massive balls so he can see those too. He tilts his head down, casting a shadow over his eyes, mouth hanging open, breathing heavily. He wets his lips and moans approaching the finish. He looks at his cock in the mirror and pictures you sucking his balls. Nasty little sex kitten sucking them so good. For a moment, picturing you between his knees, he feels like you want him. . . until his thoughts are jolted back to how you left him.  His jaw clenches and he wonders what to do with you. When you're only good for one thing, you better be real good at it. Cunt. He jerks himself thinking about how you probably take so many cocks. He wonders how much you could take. 

He takes a deep breath, his cock twitches in his hand, and he groans as he cums into the sink. As he finishes coming, he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror. Under his weathered face, for a moment he sees a younger, sadder man before his nose twitches into a snarl and he rinses the cum down the sink.

As he goes to leave the bathroom, half his footsteps are clicking.   Something is stuck in the bottom of his work boot. He lifts his foot to look at the sole, and he pries a tooth from between the rubber ridges. He tosses it in the toilet on his way out. 

. . .

Joel changes out of his uniform, showers, and puts on jeans and a tight t-shirt. It’s dusk when he gets in your driver's seat and starts your car.  Empty coke bottles, goody's pain relief, fast food receipts, empty packets of gum.   There’s plenty of personal information about you, too. He could take you tonight, if he felt like it. Fuck you and dump you. Oh, not figuratively, literally.  If he feels like it. If only you hadn’t left him. . . he would’ve let you go. 

He pulls up google maps and types in your address.  It’s a long ass drive, an hour and a half, but might be worth it, he thinks.  “What the hell were ya doin’ out here,” he mutters to himself.  He knows the answer– whoring. Of course your gas tank is empty. He’ll fill it up on your dime. He hasn’t decided what to do with you when he puts the car in reverse. He'll figure it out on the way.

As he's driving off, the heavy wrench slides off the roof of your car. "God damnit," he mutters and stops to pick it up. Before he gets back in the car, he pats his pocket and makes sure he has his switchblade.  He calls his mom on the way to your house and tells her he needs to swing by for his extra key to the car. She asks him to stay for dinner. 

—---------------

It’s only been a few days. You’ve been driving Joel’s car. You know he’ll come for it eventually, and that’s okay, you think. Depending on how pissed he is about you leaving him handcuffed on his bed and stealing his car.  You think about him constantly, and it always turns you on. It’s making you irritable, living in a constant state of arousal. What’s wrong with you? He could kill you. He might still.  And yet, you have half a mind to drive all the way back to his sad little camper just to chain him up and ride him again. 

You’re home alone, watching TV when you hear a car park outside, then a car door closes. You look out the window and it’s your car. Your heart flutters. Then you hear another car door open and shut–Joel’s car–and the engine starts.  He drives away in his car without so much as a glance toward your house.  Your heart sinks and you’re disgusted with yourself.

You go out to your car and there’s a piece of paper under your windshield wiper. You unfold it and it says, “Take care, sweetheart.”  There’s something on the other side. You turn it over. It’s a drawing. You can’t tell what it is until you turn it to the side and a chill runs down your spine–not just from the content, but the quality. It looks like a kid could have drawn it, but it’s so crude. The focal point is a detailed vagina, clit, hole, labia, and all, liquid leaking out of it.  In much less detail, there are two legs spread with knees up, tits, and behind the tits, a picasso type face you presume is supposed to be you, based on the hair. Uneven eyes. 

Something’s wrong with him. And, of course, something’s wrong with you–Because your heart sank when he drove away, but it sank more when you read, “take care.” 

—

You think about him even more after that. Non-stop.  You convince yourself he was never going to kill you. He was trying to scare you. It was a fucked up game. You wash the grisly t-shirt he gave you–rendered pointless with slashes through the front, and stains. You wear it and wash it and wear it and wash it, and it’s so fucked up. 

A week or two later, you’re taking a walk in leggings and a tank top. You’re walking by some woods in an undeveloped stretch of your neighborhood, right before a big, vacant lot when you get an unsettling feeling. You jog the rest of the way home.

When you’re standing in front of your fridge cooling off with a cold glass of water, you hear metal on metal and look over to see your sliding glass door being pried open. Joel’s imposing form pauses in the doorway. Then he turns and tosses the crowbar outside. He shuts the door behind him. He’s holding a huge wrench and his other hand is flexing around nothing, fingers slightly wiggling. He’s wearing his mechanic jumpsuit and a scowl. 

His voice is deep and gravely. “Miss me, sweetheart?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask as his boots thud ominously toward you. He’s so imposing, muscles begging for more room in his uniform.  His nose twitches one side of his mouth into a smile, then he tilts his head and wets his lips. He lifts the wrench and lets the end of it fall heavily into his other massive hand. You stand frozen against the kitchen counter. You let him pin you to it with his hips, and that's not all. He puts the wrench down with a loud clunk on the faux granite.  Then he plants his massive hands on either side of you, caging you to the counter. He presses his pelvis into you and the warmth of his semi-hard bulge makes you tingle. His belly presses into your middle. Your heart races.  You wedge your hand between you and palm his bulge.

He laughs, nearly silently, then brings his mouth to your ear. “M’not here to make love to ya, sweetheart.” His cock twitches against your hand. ”That what ya want?” 

You shake your head no and say, “want ya to fuck me.” 

He chuckles, then puts on an air of sympathy. “Shame. . .that’d be nice. . .” His breath hot on your ear. “Shouldn’t’a left me.” 

You try to move and he pins you by your wrists. You knee his groin and when he falls backward, you run around the counter. He grabs his wrench and comes after you. You trip over a pair of shoes and he grabs a fistful of your shirt on your way to the floor, lessening your impact. You’re face-down on the carpet. he discards the wrench with a soft clunk and takes out his knife.

“Stop fuckin’ playin’,” he growls. He doesn’t let go of your shirt. He stabs through the fabric and slices all the way down to the bottom hem, then turns the blade upward and cuts the collar in one quick snap. You squirm under him. He puts all his weight on you, pushing his hard bulge against your ass. Then he lifts his pelvis off you, straddles your thigh, and shoves his hand between your legs, digging between your mound and the carpet to feel you through your leggings.  You know they’re already damp. Joel opens and shuts his hand over your cunt, plucking the stretchy fabric out from your body and snapping it back against your pussy.  Then he gets up on his knees, pulls the spandex out one last time, and stabs through it. He rips a big hole in the crotch. And he keeps stabbing and slicing at the fabric between your legs and then he nicks your inner thigh and you yelp. 

“sorry, sweetheart.” he backs down your leg and gives the booboo a kiss. He slices the seat of your leggings more carefully, ripping them all the way open, then he presses the flat of the knife against one buttcheek, separating your crack more. 

“Stop playin’,” he reminds you. 

“Okay,” you whimper and stop fighting. 

He puts his weight back on top of you, with his belly on your back and his knees straddling your thighs and his cock hard against your ass. He cups your exposed cunt and growls when he feels how wet you are. “There’s my sex kitten,” he murmurs. “Pussy’s dyin’ for it, ain’t she.” 

“Just fuck me already,” you whine, disturbed by what a lack of sexual interest could possibly  mean for you. Then you taunt, “Unless you can’t.”

He runs his thick fingers through your wet folds, then pushes one, then two, then three fat digits into you. He slowly pumps them and his cock swells against you. You twitch around him. 

He sighs and says, “Course I can” and unzips his jumpsuit. “Only ‘cause I feel like it.” He spits loudly, then notches at your entrance and he’s even wider than you remember. He shoves himself into you, parting your core with his absurd girth. 

“Mmmfuck,” he grunts. He retreats slightly then plunges in and you gasp as he bottoms out. “That what ya want?”

You get wetter around his cock and he begins to fuck you at a steady rhythm with your face pressed into the carpet. His hand engulfs the back of one knee to nudge it on the carpet, spreading your legs open more. He grunts as he pounds into you with the thickest cock you’ve ever had, even thicker than you remember. 

“Nasty girl,” he rasps as the heft of his cock splits you open. “Take it like a real cockslut, don’t ya?” 

Your nipples harden at his words and you whimper. 

“But damn you can ride it, too,” he pants. 

He grunts and moans as he buries his girth in you.  

“More,” you whine, unsure why you have the constant urge to provoke him. 

He pounds you harder and faster, grunting like an animal with his broad cock stabbing into you, massive balls slapping your skin through the tatters of your torn leggings.

“More,” you beg.

“Careful,” he warns.  “Cause I’ll give ya more.” 

His hips snap into you, stuffing you so full of cock, rearranging your guts. 

“More,” you pant and his hips slow. He thrusts his fat cock into you slower then takes it out entirely. The void he leaves is jolting and the air is cold on your dripping cunt. 

“Fuckin’ warned ya,” he bites. “Turn over and keep your mouth shut.”  He forces you onto your back so you can see him.  He slices through your sleeves and collars and you flinch with the knife near your neck. He tears your shirt off.  “Give ya more,” he mutters. He straddles your right leg so his right hand is closest to your cunt. He slaps your pussy and rubs his flattened fingers around in your ample slick. Then he wipes it on his cock.  He repeats the action until he’s satisfied with his lube. Then he spits on his cock again and slowly strokes himself with his left hand. 

He pumps his cock with his left hand, and with his right hand, he puts three fingers in a triangular formation and wedges them into your cunt while it’s still stretched from his cock.  He pushes his three fingers in and out, curling them, moving them side to side, stretching you slowly. Your body catches up with him, and your cunt gets even wetter. You’ll probably shrivel his fingertips at this rate.  He pulls his fingers almost all the way out, then adds his pinky to the others and begins to wedge all four of them into you, clustered together barely inside your entrance. He puts his thumb on your clit.  All four of his fat digits push into you and you moan. 

“Ooh she likes it,” he coos. “Ever had your gash this full?” You spasm at his crudeness. “Mm?” He thumbs your clit and keeps stroking himself with his left hand. 

You shake your head no. His four move in and out of you, and his eyes glue to your cunt, watching you take them.  He thumbs your clit faster and your back arches. Your cunt relaxes more, like you want to swallow him whole. 

He scowls, sliding all four of his fingers in and out of you as your body keeps you moist. Then he slides them out and pauses.  He spits on his thumb, despite how sopping wet you are. He wedges his thumb between his fingers, so his thumb and pinky are touching each other, clustered with the three middle digits. Then he begins to push his hand into you.  You groan at the stretch. His hand is massive, and gorgeous. You look at the other hand wrapped around his cock. It’s veiny–they both are, the hand and his cock. He adjusts his position and his massive balls rest on your thigh.

“Wanted more, didn’t ya?” he asks. He’s only buried his fingers to the second knuckle, with the bottom half of each digit still outside your cunt. He subtly twists his hand from side to side wriggling it into you. “Yeah, you can take it,” he says. Thank god you’re so shamefully wet for this psycho.  “That’s my sex kitten.” He lets go of his cock and plants his hand on the floor for leverage, leaning over you.  His hand pushes further into you, and you feel his major knuckles prodding at your poor, stretched hole. He pauses as though taking in the sight. He moans and his eyelids are half shut watching your dripping cunt stretch obscenely around his hand. “Fuck that’s hot,” he breathes, then he pushes the rest of his hand into you. 

The stretch burns when his major knuckles crest your hole, with the heel of his palm still outside you. You whimper and he keeps going. He pushes his hand in, making your hole grow even wider.  Your cunt stretches and swallows his hand—his whole hand. The heel of his palm nudges your g-spot, and his knuckles push against your walls. He’s buried to the wrist now. “Fuck, yeah,” he breathes. “God damn. . .hungry, ain’t she?” He pushes in a little further.  Your walls hug his massive hand and don’t want to let go. You’re shocked by the moisture just pouring into your core, like your body wants more, more, more. 

“What’s wrong with ya, huh?” You wish you knew.  “Lemme ruin your clothes, ruin your hole.” He breathes heavier, grinds his cock against your thigh, and keeps the hand inside you mostly still. He clenches the hand inside you and his breathing falters. He slightly twists his hand.  He starts to withdraw it, then pushes it back in before the knuckles emerge from your hole. He does this a few times, partly out and back in, and your walls squeeze him. You writhe under him.  Then, he begins to wriggle his hand out of you. “Fuck, you should see this, baby.”  He sits up straighter and takes his cock in his left hand again.  “Ohh, fuck,” he breathes. “Spread wide open around my hand.” his thumb slips out first and he puts it back on your clit. You whimper. 

“Yeah, ya like that?” he rubs you with his thumb, four fingers still inside you. Your hips lift into him. “Good girl,” he whispers, rubbing you rhythmically. You look at his fat cock in his hand, leaking precum, and you want it back so bad. “Not yet,” he shakes his head. He moves his four fingers inside you and thumbs your clit, watching between your legs with his mouth hanging open, saliva pooling at the corners of his lips. The tension builds and builds with his thumb on your clit until you begin to clench around his hand and he groans as your walls clamp down on him. “Ohhh,” he moans. “Good girl, oh fuck.” When you’ve finished spasming around his hand, he slides it out the rest of the way. When it’s out, he gives a low whistle and lightly taps your cunt with the backs of his fingers. “Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “Ain’t gonna leave ya empty.” He picks up his massive wrench and admires the wide end of it, a little bigger than his fist. 

You’re dumbstruck. It’s nasty, it’s gross, but your body wants it, really bad. It’s like a dream where you can’t make yourself talk. You don’t move. You just look at it, clit throbbing as he brings the fat end of the wrench to your deflated, weeping cunt. He uses his left hand to spread you open and hold you open, then the cold metal makes you wince and your whole body erupts in goosebumps.  His left hand helps, sticking his fingers in with the wrench and using them to tug your entrance around it as he wriggles the wrench into you. He’s gentler than you expect. He works the wide end of the tool all the way into you. It feels so dangerous and crude, but at least it’s smooth.  It doesn’t scratch, thank god. It’s a little awkward, the way parts of it jut out, but at least the metal is smooth. And having it inside you is somehow exhilerating

“And just like that,” he marvels, “ya took it.” He raises his eyebrows. “Damn.” 

“It’s fucking cold,” you complain. 

He begins to fuck you with it in short little thrusts, watching your cunt take it. You’re stretched around the metal. The danger, the obscenity of it turns you on, but you find yourself staring at his cock, wanting it back.  He lazily strokes himself with his left fist.  He follows your eyes and says, “Had enough, huh?” 

You nod. 

“Want my big fat cock back?”

You nod. 

“Alright, kitten.” He carefully wedges the wrench out of you and inhales sharply watching it emerge obscenely from your stretched out hole. He watches your body begin to pull itself back together as he puts the wrench down and gets between your legs.  He lines up and shoves all the way into you, sliding easily to the hilt. He begins to rail you unrestrained. “Not too bad,” he pants, sliding in and out of you easily. This time, he feels like an average sized man. “Fuck,” he breathes, already close. “Don’t worry.  Won’t leave ya empty.”  He slows down a little and seems to be holding his breath. “fill ya up now,” he pants. “Much as this cumsock can take.” Your cunt twitches. “That’s right.” 

He slams into you and erupts, pulsing massively into your worn-out hole, and a second climax sneaks up on you. Your hips lift into his and he groans.  He hovers over you as he cums, and you admire his face, barely keeping your eyes open with waves of pleasure crashing through your core.  

When his balls are empty. He hovers over you for a moment, gives a subtle but demented smile, eyes sparkling. Then he pulls out.

“Whew.” He sits back on his heels, and tucks his massive cock back into his jumpsuit. Your legs are still spread. He brings his face close to your cunt and says “all fucked out.” He gives it a pat with the backs of his fingers again. “Mmm.” He zips up his suit and braces his hands on his thighs. He stands up with a groan.  

“Why did you come here?” you ask him. 

He ignores the question, picks up the wrench, and leaves you on the floor.

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Thank you so much for reading and interacting!! Love you guys. Happy Friday the 13th, and Happy Halloween.