#I'm writing this at 5 am not sorry

[noxiousgrace]

Cale henituse taking an edible and forgetting he no longer lives in the 21st century

In the year of our lord 783 of the felix calendar (wait is felix the jesus of the raon kingdom??? Why'd the year count start w that guy)

This is krs!cale by the way

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Cale, lowkey woozy: bro...

Ron: yes, young master-nim?

Cale: did you put weed in my brownies?

Ron: no? Why would i put invasive plants in your snacks? *Confused benign chuckle*

Cale: why.. *smacks lips* why is the world so topsy turny ron? Hm?

Ron: ah, it must be the sleeping herbs.

Cale: no, you just gave me an edible.

Ron: ...is it not supposed to be edible?

Cale: *snort* that's something a boomer would say

Ron: a what?

Cale: *waves hand* whatever, you wouldn't understand internet culture anyway.

Ron: *is honestly just confused*

Cale: *already forgot about the subject at hand* i remember this one time i was in highschool *snort*

Ron:....?

Cale: i was with a bunch of kids, theatre kids, and we all did *snort* edibles and thought it would be fun to play truth or dare

Ron: young mas-

Cale: *talking over him* and well, I didn't think it was a good idea cuz we were probably gonna do something stupid and like *wheeze* we made this one guy dress up as eric cartman *absolutely losing it, smacking his knee and laughing*

Ron: *honestly thinks cale is hallucinating at this point and is debating on calling a priest*

Cale: and we fuckin made him sing an entire lady gaga album, can you immaaagiineeee?? *Wheeeeze*

Cale: and oml what he did after was insane! So we didn't get off very well so he thought it would be sooo funny to like... *He looked up at the ceiling, completely losing the plot again* hehsh did i ever tell you this ceiling lowkey looks European

Cale: *starts mumble singing* gay or europeeaann,, it's hard to guaranteeee,,, is he gay or europeeeann???

Ron: *has already left the room in order to get someone to help cale*

---

*cale has migrated into the library*

Priest: young master-nim pleas-

Cale: whyyyy did you get an entire squad of exorcists in here ron????

Ron: young master, you're not yourself *he actually looks concerned*

Cale: *wheeze* what are you? Y/n???? My coworker wasn't crazy after all,,,

Ron: ...??

Cale: No because drinking games are crazy

Cale: anyway i miss mmorpgs man *sigh* i miss my wife tails

Ron: wife???

Cale: *ignoring him* pink fluffy uniiicorns dancing on rainbooows *knows this song from the one time he had to babysit the neighbors kid*

---

The day after

-

Ron: young master-nim

Cale: *jumps out of his skin because of rons sudden appearance* what????

Ron: what is a boomer? You were saying a lot of funny things yesterday.

Cale: *sweating bullets* I've been having weird dreams lately???

Ron: uhuh *it's obvious he doesn't believe cale but just leaves it alone for now*

[iceagebaby]

Courier time!

Backstory under the cut, please give it a read!

Born into the Jackal raider tribe, Vels "Marie" Spolsky grew up in an world of gore and voilence. The Jackals, known for their cannibalism and chem addiction, were a gang in decline after a failed raid at Shady Sands. As a member of this group, Vels was quick to become another raider to shoot on sight. At 19, after countless failures, losses and injuries, Vels's instinct for self preservation and survival kicked in. He abandoned the remnants of the clan and joined up with the Followers of the Apocalypse, who, miraculously, took him in and provided him with an education.

Despite his partial redemption, Vels still struggled with his impulses. As he traveled with Followers caravans, primarily as protection for the followers, he began to take on various odd jobs. During this time, he learned to use a sniper rifle, compensating for his poor eyesight. Eventually, this led him to the Mojave Express, where he took on a delivery job.

After being shot in the head, Vels was left with scattered memories. While he retained parts of his past - his addiction to Psycho, cravings (fo4), feral tendencies, and scars, his sense of self was altered. Despite his almost-membership with the Followers, Vels was far from reformed. He remained a dangerous individual, only slightly less unhinged than his raider days, but at last with a sense of wanting to become someone better.

Relationship with Arcade:

When Vels stumbled into the camp of the Followers of the Apocalypse, bruised, battered and desperately seeking refuge, it was Arcade Gannon who first met him with a mixture of skepticism and unwilling compassion. Arcade, as well educated and morally upright member as any could be, had his doubts about allowing a raider into their ranks. Yet still, something about Vels' determination and willingness to leave his violent past struck a chord in him. There was something about him that piqued Arcade's interest. Perhaps it was the raider's genuine desire to learn or his willingness to engage in discussions and listen to him was somehting that drew Arcade in.

Their initial relationship was rocky. Arcade's compassion for Vels was restrained by his deep seated moral convictions. He couldn’t ignore the fact that Vels had been part of a group responsible for untold atrocities. Despite that, Arcade couldn’t help but feel some sort of respect for Vels' decision to seek a better path in life. He was snippy and salty in their interactions, often challenging Vels on his past actions and future intentions.

Vels, on the other hand, found himself inexplicably drawn to Arcade. He admired Arcade's intellect and convictions, qualities that were foreign and fascinating to him. However, his upbringing as a raider had left him emotionally scarred and unsure of how to form genuine connections, especially with Arcades reservations for him. His attraction to Arcade was palpable, but he struggled to understand these feelings, often resorting to defensive or aloof behavior.

Thetension between them became more pronounced when they traveled together with a caravan heading to New Vegas. As they traversed the wastes, a tense bond began to form. Arcade couldn’t deny that Vels was a capable protector, as did Vels began to apriciate Arcades prowess with his Defender and found himself opening up, albeit slowly and with great difficulty.

Despite the growing friendship, Arcade remained wary. His interactions with Vels were filled with sharp comments and moral questioning, a constant reminder of the chasm between their world views. Vels, for his part, tried to prove his commitment to change, though he often slipped into old habits under stress.

A year later, after Vels was shot and lost much of his memory, their paths crossed again. This time, Arcade observed Vels from a distance at first, noticing the changes in him. The feral edge was still there, but muted by a haunted look and a sense of disorientation. Vels didn’t recognize Arcade, but there were moments of odd familiarity in his eyes, fleeting glances that hinted at buried memories.

Arcade decided not to reveal their past association immediately. He wanted to understand who Vels became without the burden of his past. As they spent more time together, Arcade saw glimpses of the man Vels could be, not just the raider he had been. Slowly, cautiously, Arcade began to extend his trust, hoping that this second chance would allow them to find redemption and perhaps a deeper connection.

The man before him was different, yet familiar. He couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope that perhaps this time, their relationship might find a steadier ground.

[hikarry]

Spencer, dear, I'm so sorry, but "I Will Survive" is not a Crowley song. Seriously? Disappointed

Bro-

Do I-

*waves frenetically towards the picture below*

Portraying Crowley as this suave, cool and mysterious guy that breathes rock is such a surface level analysis of this dork. That's what HE wants you to think of him. Gorgeous redhead fellaw with slinky hips and rockstar style, yes, BUT

He had his silly goose phase and his silly goose phase was Disco Tony and everyone in my household is going to respect Disco Tony

Look me in my bloody eyes and tell me this lil queer fella and his buddy Freddie Fucking Mercury didn't go down to the Golden Lion back in old Soho and drink their weights in beer as "I Will Survive" played and they kissed some guys here and there?

("Why the Golden Lion again, sweetheart? Why not that Harpoon Louis place everyone is talking about back in Earls Court Road?"

"Ngk, no reason. Absolutely not because I'm very desperately trying to bump into this very very annoying guy whom's I've only seen from a far since we last talked in the 60's after he gave me something we had had a fight over some years before and now we are kinda weird with each other and I dunnot know what he expects of me, but, fucking Heaven's, why does the bloody angel have to be so bloody complicated anyway? You should have seen the way he looked at me. The bloody idiot sitting in my Bentley saying I "go too fast". Go too fast?! What does that even mean?!"

"Ah. Right. Bookshop darling."

"Ngk. No. More like. Pain in my arse. The idiot. The way he looked at me made me feel like...agh....like I was falling apart. Is it really so hard for him to stop being a posh little shite and talk to me straight? Stop- Don't look at me like that. Pull that bloody eyebrow back down, you noisance. You know exactly what I mean. I just...ngk, it feels so lonely sometimes and-"

"Lonely, you say, darling?"

"Don't. Don't you even, Mr. Big Shot Rock Star. Azi-...The angel and I go back a long long time. I'm just used to have him around, that's all, but he's so...so..."

"Extremely queer and quite dishy? I don't see the problem here, really, Tony dear. Just walk up to the bloke and grab his arse. Worked for me and Jim just fine."

"You got bloody lucky, is what you got. Absolutely high out of your own arse, you bastard. I don't do that."

"Oh, but you do-"

"Ngk. No. Not to him...Bloody Heavens, stop-"

"I didn't say anything."

"I can feel you judging all the way from here, Melina."

"My sincere apologies if my sunglasses cannot hide how much I think you're a bloody cream puff, Anthonia Jennifer Crowley. The man is unmistakably almost as bent as the two of us combined. How much do you want to bet with me, right here, right now, that man is dying to have you turn him into an artiste until he is absolutely knackered?"

"Satan, you're fucking impossible sometimes...It's not that bloody simple, alright? Just. There's so much left unspoken between us still and-"

"God, that's a load of tosh, Anthony. You're arse over tits in love with the bloke and instead of getting a move on and a possibly great shag..."

"...Fred...?"

"Hold up one second, darling. Let me just-"

"Fred-What the-Fred-What-Is that-Where the fuck did you take that notebook from? We are on out way to the pub! What-! Stop bloody writing-!"

BAAM Freddie Mercury writes "One Year Of Love" on his way to the Golden Lion in Soho in the company of his mate Anthony J. Crowley, once again sucking on the man's pinning for the mysterious bookshop bloke he has the hots for.)

Anyway- (Adhd brain. It's 5 am on a saturday. What do you want from me?)

I rest my case

Snake boy absolutely asks Alexa to play that song when he is alone in his flat and he wants to feel a lil nostalgic and let loose

[littlespoonevan]

.

[link7057]

SHARE YOUR HEADCANNONS ABOUT CHRISTINAAAAA 🫶🫶

First, I'm so sorry for the late answer months later 😭😭🙏 Please forgive me and second!! Actually I hadn't thought of many headcanons for her... yet... but she's one of my favorite characters so ofc I thought of some!! I might say silly ones or ones more about her personal life (and definitely not projecting some parts!) I love Christina Posabule 🙏♥️

Music wise I think Christina would like 60s music, rock, and/or synth-pop or idk genres are hard to actually get right nowadays. If it's specfic, "The Daughters of Eve" and Mitski would be part of her favorites fjjdbrbnd (then I think she'd like The Killers especially "When You Were Young" when she was in her teens :)) Speaking of Christina in her teens, she'd want to learn piano or some sort of instrument but her parents probably got annoyed by how much she played so she wouldn't have as many chances. She's definitely a bookworm or just loves reading and also writes in her freetime like little stories or poems. And when Block ended up staying with Orel's family, she was kind of the only one who missed him as her parents didn't really mind/express their emotions about it.

Andddd talking about her parents, they're both VERY controlling and kept watch on what she'd do, the polar opposite with Orel, which his parents didn't gaf where he was 💔💔 Especially Poppit, and I think with Christina's story it'd be a toxic mother-daughter relationship (mommy issues!) rather than her and her dad, and that Poppit rather likes taking charge but to be in "a woman's place" y'know sexism and even tells Art what to do but makes sure that he does what a "man has to." And she'd be veryyy persistent on Christina with how she presents herself and make sure that she was a nice church girl at all times. And Poppit would very much have breakdowns in front of her and vent to her about her own issues... yeah... And whenever Christina was getting yelled at or being told what to do the only thing she could do is not say anything back to not upset them. She was also grabbed a lot like by her wrists or something similar how they showed in the show. When she moved to Moralton, she was bummed out bc yeah she just moved to a new place where she knows no one. Then when she met Orel something about him intrigued her and she's like Oooh y'know what I like this place already... then BOOM! Having to move again :( Also I don't know if it's just me but she's probably homeschooled or she's just attending another school jfjfnntnf and about her past town she'd be doing so many shenanigans during the same time as Orel probably. Another silly thing she might be more confident than him like I think he'd be more shy when he got older fjjdjnfbfn

Also yes Christina was sadistic I had to say it bc... we remember Orel's masochist era... And same thing with her being emo/goth when Orel was and at least for a while when they were teens👍👍 It's canon bc I said so

About when she's an adult, once Orel and her got married and had their kids, she'd be really worried about repeating anything her own mother used to do to her (along with Orel who'd try to be the best dad to his kids and would ask Christina if he was doing a good job if he was too worried about becoming anything similar to Clay or just anything otherwise) and I'm not quite sure about if whether she kept contact with her parents but she probably would but obviously has a strained relationship with them along with Orel's parents... But she would give her own family all her love :D also she's definitely working in a type of job I forgot which one but something that helps people bc she's sweet like that <3 so yeah girlboss !!

I might've forgotten some things to mention or other things I had in mind for her but yeah!! Or it was badly/worded weird perdón. Thanks for reading 💕

[stonedstargazer666]

Stoned Head cannon

So this is gonna be based kinda off of a couple of pictures I saved from twitter and here on good ole Tumblr, earlier this month. well my collection keeps getting larger...Anywho.. Yes, I am baked outta my gourd, this is just gonna be raw writing and I have sat long and hard about this. I'm sorry if I don't tag anything correctly. i'm zooted. Fem terms used. NSFW under photos. (DNI: If the thought of getting your BC messed with if your taking it orally messes with you. )

Ok so you're dating Vessel, right? You get along with the others really well. you bring out a side of them that Vessel rarely sees. Which is fine dandy and wonderful. If it weren't for the fact that the boys are seemingly testing the boundaries with you. Light touches that could easily be brushed off as accidental, brushing the hair out of your face with lingering touches.

Well Vessel sees you just brushing it off, you're confident enough to tell them to back off sure. Brushing their hand away, giving them a glare, or flipping them off with a laugh. You're absolutely loyal to Vessel, perfectly devoted the both of you would say. But gosh, if Vessel didn't want to absolutely claim you. Sure, you two have your fun regularly, but you were on the pill. He didn't know how to bring that up to you, on one hand he loved that you were stern about your health and just wasn't ready for kids.

BUT on the other hand, when you take your placebo week, you get emotional over videos of babies laughing and giggling till they can't breath. Vessel see's how you coo at your phone while laying in bed, earbud in or over ear headphones depending on the vibe you had. listening to the sweet shrieks of laughter, he listens to you talk to yourself how your friend's baby is so cute, when they post pictures. It was a monthly habit that drove him up the wall. Until he read about activated charcoal, and the dangers of it messing with oral birth control... Oh.. well this could be useful information. He better read up on that... ya know just in case....

(NSFW content ahead, continue if you dare)

Now that he has learned about the activated charcoal, he thought that would be perfect. He had been meaning to try out a different way of painting his body. You liked it when he wore the paint in the bedroom, who was he to deny his sweet little dove? On stage it was the normal body paint, but lately in the bedroom...the texture of the paint felt different on your tongue....or...or did it always feel that grainy? You vocalize your concern in a needy whimpering voice, feeling your own hot breath bounce off of his neck. Tongue halfway pressed against the pulse point of his throat.

Vessel rumbles a deep throaty laugh, assuring you that yes it has. for the last month It had. Vessel would hide and put the water activated charcoal on his throat, fingers, hands, chest. ALL of your favorite places to lick, suck on, worship. Mentally Vessel reveled in the fact that he was messing with your birth control. You would be a wonderful mum, and the boys...oh the boys would know who you belonged to. two birds one stone really. But you didn't know this, you didn't need to know that little fact. HE prayed and thanked God that nothing had changed over the past month, nothing that would arise suspicion of what he was doing... The sound of you greedily choking and trying to swallow around his fingers brings him out of his thoughts. He takes a moment to take in the pretty sight. you on the bed, ass up, face down cause you're a good girl yeah? Yeah ,you are, tilting your head to the side. your tongue lavishing his long fingers.

He coos at how pretty you are. A pure work of art, taking his fingers into your mouth so willingly, while also taking him so perfectly into your drooling sex. Vessels eyes zero in on your convulsing throat, moaning audibly feeling you successfully swallow around his fingers without choking or gagging. Oh such a good girl you are, He praises. As you swallow the charcoal, bringing you one step closer to being claimed and owned by him inside and out. With that thought in mind. Vessel pulls his fingers out of your throat. Reaching around to wipe them right over your womb, the striking black pops against your pink warm skin. Almost like a promise, Vessel flips you over onto your back. slowly...so deliciously slowly does he show you what his new healed piercing is capable of. Oh now you really feel it, and you clench hard. Vessel watches the moment you succumb to his slow deep ministrations. He takes a quick moment to make a mental note to thank IVy for the suggestion. Who knew that a Jacobs ladder would be just utter heaven. Vessels thrusts start getting sloppy, and rougher. his hands gripping the fat of hips with a bruising force. His hips stutter as you beg so prettily through tears and desperate moans for him to come inside.

Oh how you sang little dove, your voice cracking as you scream his name. BEgging him to come, your voice is delirious. It's pure unadulterated music to his ears, He slams into you one more time, rutting into your poor bullied cunny, grinding against your swollen nub just right. Your climax hits, your back arching off the bed as you hopelessly grind and roll your hips. Vessel soaks in the sight of the pure pleasure on your face, as he grinds deeper. Seeing a faint bump in your pretty tummy, just underneath the black streaks he left there earlier...

He cums hard, and so much. Poor man, must have been so pent up... but Gods does feel so fucking good to feel his release overflowing, and dripping. But you still whimpered softly about feeling so full Vessel stared at the marking he left, it looked ever so slightly rounder. He wonders if he could maybe talk you into getting it tattooed. Just for him. He slowly pulls out, whispering praises, telling you what a perfect girl you are, gently rubbing your sides. Waiting for you to come down from wherever you floated off too during your climax. Once your breathing evened out to his liking, he got up. Disappearing, just to come back with a soft warm wet wash cloth. Gently cleaning you up, taking a quick picture of the marks. For later reference of course. Then wiping them away, reverently. After cleaning you both, he throws on black sweat pants. Then lovingly wraps you in your favorite soft blanket. The soft sigh you let out lets him know your relaxing, and are comfortable. He picks you up, cradling you close to his warm chest. Walking out to the common area to sit with you in his lap. Showing the other three, that he was the only one that held your heart.

And wouldn't you know it? three weeks later, you tell Vessel that you've been feeling quite strange... Like a weird stomach bug, cause you've been so nauseous lately.... But don't worry, Vessel assures you, you'll start feeling better soon. Just let him take care of you...

[of-solitude-past-and-present]

Hidden in the Sands (Yandere!Naga!Kunikuzushi)

Warnings: Character Death (not reader, not kuni), Some Gore (description of a corpse), Injury (of reader), Monster AU, implied semi-cannibalism (he isn't human but close enough), some blood (mostly not reader's, a little is kuni's), biting, venom, graphic description of venom effects (used on reader non-lethally), kuni-typical insults, venom effects are made up, kuni tries to kill you (at first but doesn't follow through), reader has a semi-near-death experience, threats, kidnapping, imprisonment, nonconsensual touching (SFW ofc), general yandere themes, kunibaby is Not Nice but it's okay because he's hot, reader goes through the wringer... if you prefer soft yandere, this is probably not for you. loosely based on a rp I did with a friend.

Sorry I lied about the rook and sebek HCs. I have Sebek's pretty much done I think, but Rook remains an enigma. Might post them separately, idk.

Kuni's appearance is inspired by the desert horned viper. If the formatting seems a little weird at any point, it's because tumblr messed it up when I copy/pasted it here. Might fix it later.

6.5k words or so.

The Desert of Hadramaveth.

You haven't been here before. You thought the rest of the desert was bad, between the heat which was "enough to melt a mist flower but not really" (paraphrased from a certain fox friend) and the unforgiving terrain.

This was worse, with its near-constant sandstorms. This was the second one today, and you had only just left the Tanit camp. In other areas of the desert, you were begging for a reprieve from the sun, but here, you were almost begging for it back if it meant you didn't have to worry about getting sand in your eyes and throat. It was almost, almost enough to make you consider turning around and dropping the commission.

"Do you want to hear a dry joke?"

If it weren't for your friend here, you probably would. Unfortunately, you can't turn back now that you've gotten his hopes up. The most you can do is slump your shoulders and sigh, suffocating under the endless heat, what little you could see of the sun, and what you knew was coming next.

"Sure, I'll bite."

A large, beaming grin spread across Sanad's face, and you braced yourself.

"A desert."

"That's terrible."

"Oh, come on! It's funny and you know it!"

"Does that even count as a proper j-"

You paused, looking up at the sky. In the distance, you could see a large, beige cloud. Again?

"We need to find shelter. There's a sandstorm coming."

"Well, looks like we're in luck. Where isn't shelter?" he responded.

It was true. You and Sanad were somewhere just north of the Tanit Camps, near Wadi Al-Majuj. Ahead of the both of you was the entrance to a deep canyon, lined with ancient ruins. According to the map, it was called Pairidaeza Canyon. Behind you, there was another entrance to a different canyon, and according to your map, if you went back a ways and to the right, there'd be a third one.

"Come on, let's go! I need to look through these for my thesis!" He rushed, running ahead of you.

"Careful!" you called out. "There might be bandits down there."

He immediately slowed to a stop, sheepishly turning around to move back to his place next to you.

"On second thought, take your time. Just make sure there's nobody else in there."

You chuckle, already starting a reasonable pace down the steep slope into the canyon. "Thought so. Just a reminder, we're leaving immediately once the sandstorm ends, unless we find who or what we're looking for."

Right. What you were looking for. Recently, small groups of travelers and even large caravans were being attacked. Most of the attacks occurred between the Tanit Camp and around the Passage of Ghouls. A few supplies were usually stolen, but that wasn't the worst part.

A few days later, the rotting corpse of one of the travelers or nomads would be found, half-eaten and with a twin set of puncture marks in their throat. Any useful supplies would be missing, but oddly enough, the mora was almost never taken.

Normally, you'd assume that maybe it was just a deranged serial killer, and either the bodies were eaten by wild animals or the culprit was worse than you thought. But it was strange. What serial killer had fangs like that? And if it was a wild animal, what use would they have for supplies like bedrolls and first aid kits?

The survivors usually all said the same thing; they were caught out in the middle of a sandstorm, and all they heard was a scream or shout before one of their friends disappeared. When the body was found, some key survival supplies would be missing as well. When a caravan was attacked, some supplies (and occasionally people) would even be snatched right off the backs of the desert sumpter beasts.

Hence why you and your friend Sanad were out here to crack this strange case. Mostly you, though, since Sanad only wanted to take a gander at the desert ruins for some Akademiya thing. You'd probably have gone alone (or at least tried to, before you decided the mora wasn't worth it) but when he heard that you were going to this section of the desert, he insisted on coming for his thesis or something like that. He helped pay for the trip, and he was paying you personally, so you had no reason to refuse. He was your friend, and good company to boot, even if he was a little bit skittish.

"Well, that might be possible... but you said you didn't even know if the culprit was a person, didn't you?" he inquired, as the both of you passed the first of the ruins in the canyon.

You sighed. "Yeah, I told you all about that already."

A glimmer of excitement appeared in his eyes. "Well, I've been thinking since then, and I remembered this old desert legend! Have you heard of nagas?"

"Nagas?" you parroted.

"Yes, nagas!" He nodded his head. "They're an ancient race of ferocious half-human half-snake people that supposedly existed during the reign of King Deshret. Apparently they were equal parts revered and feared, as wise and strong beings."

You raised a somewhat skeptical brow. "I thought you didn't believe in legends?"

He laughed. "The Akademiya has declared them to be just baseless nonsense, so of course I don't think they actually exist. I just think it's very interesting, and it technically matches what we know..." He trails off, looking around in awe.

"If you want to look around, you can. Tell me if you see or hear anything."

You didn't need to tell him twice. With a rushed "thanks!" and a wave, he was practically bouncing up what probably used to be a set of stairs to a higher level within the ruins, off to your left. In the meantime, you'll look around, see if you can find anything interesting.

You looked up and around, spinning on your heels. From what you've seen of the canyon so far, it's just a straight corridor with partially collapsed stone ruins on both sides, and a fallen wooden bridge that once connected them. You can see several ways to climb up higher and explore the ancient stone buildings, including the way up that Sanad went.

You and Sanad are pretty deep into the canyon at this point, and you have to crane your head just to see the top. As you do this, you notice just how many floors there are in the ruins. Some have crumbled so much they seem almost completely inaccessible. They're so high up, you can't see anything on them from your angle at the bottom.

There's just so many places to hide. The realization makes you tense up a little. Maybe you should have gone up with him.

It's so strange though. The complicated ruins, numerous hiding places, and the nearby water would make this place an ideal camping spot for bandits and thieves. But so far, you haven't seen hide or hair of anyone else. Not even an abandoned camp.

Until somewhere in the ruins, you hear an odd sound. It's hard to make out, and it sounds so much like the normal shifting sand that you almost brush it off as a natural sound in the canyon. But you hear stone crumbling and rocks falling, and you look up, seeing something move on the side of a ledge too far above you to check. It's close enough that some of the rocks hit the ground next to you. You squint, watching the ledge, waiting for whatever it was to move again, but the sound stops. The hair on your neck stands on end–from what, you aren't sure. Sanad is even closer to the source of the sound than you are, but not far away at all. Just out of sight. Was it from him? Or someone watching him?

Or are they watching you?

You're not sure, and you'll check just in case. Sanad doesn't have anything to defend himself with except for a dagger. Without another thought, you surge up the stone steps, hand subconsciously finding its place on the pommel of your sword. When you get up there, you see him standing with a hand on his chin, studying some old glowing contraption you've never seen before.

"Did you hear that?" you ask, breathing just a little heavier than normal.

He turns to you somewhat incredulously, just as fine as ever. "Hear what? I haven't heard anything. Are you alright?"

You calm down a little bit, letting your hand fall from your sword. "I'm fine. I was just worried about you. Didn't you hear that noise? I saw something move up there." You look up at the ledge the rocks came from. You don't see any way to get up there that's safe.

The sand is starting to pour in harder through the massive gap in the canyon ceiling, and the wind is beginning to howl. You and Sanad are slowly being dusted in sand.

"You're a little on edge. Relax! A sandstorm is starting and the wind and sand probably just knocked a few rocks into the canyon or something. It happens all the time." He flashed you a reassuring smile, turning back to... whatever those were on the wall. They're shaped somewhat like bowls, and as sand pours into them, sand also pours out a hole in the side into another one of them. You're not the researcher here, so you ignore it.

You let go of some of the tension in your shoulders, letting out a held breath. "Alright, sorry for bothering you then. Just so you know, if the sandstorm gets any worse, we'll be moving deeper into the canyon to get out of the sand."

He turns back to you, somewhat pleading. "But can't I stay? I'm not the one looking for the guy, so you don't need me to come with you, right?"

You expected this, just as you expect that he'll be the one choosing to come with you after what you say next. "Yeah, you could, but if something happens I probably won't be able to hear it if I'm down there."

He freezes, grimacing a bit. "Alright, alright. Let me know when you move on."

As expected.

You chuckle at him with a lopsided smile, turning back to go down the ramp. He was probably right. It seemed like such a silly thing to panic over. Of course sand and rocks would shift and fall in the desert during a sandstorm. That's probably all you saw. You're glad you brought Sanad along and not some other stuck-up researcher who would have made fun of you for it.

When you reach the bottom again, you turn your attention to the ground. Aside from the sounds of the howling wind and pouring sand, you can hear water dripping as it coalesces into the wide but shallow puddle in front of you. That's not what interests you, though.

There's a long indentation in the sand, about as wide as you are, as if something had been dragged through. It extends further into the cave, where the ground becomes rockier and the track disappears.

You crouch down to inspect them further. Chances are, it's probably a large haul of supplies that was too big to properly carry. This place is the perfect hideout for thieves and bandits, so it would be worthwhile to investigate. If you're lucky, it might be the bandit you're looking for.

The canyon starts to darken, so much so that you now have trouble making out the edges of the track. Most of the sunlight that filtered in through the top has disappeared behind a haze. The sound of howling wind grows louder, and the hiss of pouring sand all around you is almost deafening. You've had quite enough of the sand raining on and around you, so you call out for Sanad to come back. It doesn't take him long to come rushing back down the way he came.

"We're heading deeper in to wait out the rest of it," you explain.

He sends a longing look back at where he had come from. "Alright... I see," he concedes, with a dejected slump of his shoulders.

You'll humor him. "Did you find anything interesting?"

He instantly brightens up, excited to talk about whatever he found. "Yes! It's this interesting mechanism that fills with sand. I read about it in a textbook once! It can be opened and closed, but I couldn't figure out how to. I've heard if you can fill them as they were intended to be, you can get treasure from them!"

You two begin moving deeper into the canyon, and you send him a teasing smile. "With the way you're talking, I'd almost think you're the adventurer here."

He shudders. "I could never. At least, not as a full time job. You encounter monsters all the time, don't you?"

"They're not so difficult to deal with, once you're used to seeing them."

"That is not at all reassuring!" He stops to let out a breath. "No, I just want the free mora. Trips like these are expensive."

You sigh. "Well, if you want to, we can at least take a crack at it together on the way out of here."

His eyes light up again. "That's wonderful! We can even split the rewards if we manage to solve it!"

"No more than an hour, though," you warn. "With all the sandstorms, we don't have the time to waste."

"Aww, fair enough." A moment of silence passes, and he turns back to you. "Oh, I almost forgot to ask you! Did you find anything interesting?"

You think back, and the only thing that comes to mind are the tracks.

"Well, a little bit behind us, I found these drag marks. Like someone had dragged a big bag or something, I couldn't tell what."

"Drag marks? Oh, so maybe it really is a naga after all."

You turn to him in exasperation. "Didn't you just say you didn't believe in them? Besides, why'd you even tell me about them if you don't think they exist?"

He laughs. "I'm kidding! I only told you mostly because I wanted to. But I have a more realistic theory too!"

"Really now?" You raised a skeptical brow.

He turns to you, faking a gasp in faux offense. "Why are you looking at me like that? Of course I do! I don't study at the Akademiya for nothing!"

You chuckle. "Oh, go on then. Don't keep me waiting."

"What if the culprit keeps a snake around? Think about it, at the price of a little food, they'd get an unlimited supply of p–Hey! Don't laugh at me! It's not as ridiculous as it sounds!"

Apparently you weren't as good at hiding your snickers as you thought. "No, no, I'm not laughing at you. I was just imagining it in my head. From what I heard, it would have to be a pretty big one based on the size of the puncture wounds and the distance between the fangs."

He crossed his arms, looking away. Guess he didn't quite believe you. "It's not THAT unbelievable, especially in comparison to the naga theory... Haven't you seen the street performers with the snakes in Port Ormos?"

You hold your hands out in a placating gesture. "Okay, okay, you're right, I'm sorry. But your theory doesn't explain everything–what about the half-eaten bodies part? And they almost never take mora either... besides, the street performers use nonvenomous snakes."

"I guess it would be risky, but in theory, venomous snakes can be trained too! Desert dwellers tend to be... fearless. Though..." He puts a hand to his chin in contemplation, looking down. "I'm not quite sure about that other part either. Though it's not as if cannibalism was ever off the table, there's always the chance it was just wild animals that found the body after. As for mora... maybe it's someone who never gets the chance to spend it anyway?"

"Like, a recluse or something?" you pipe up.

"Yeah, exactly! Someone who's completely self-sufficient, who doesn't need to deal with other people to survive. Makes enough sense. They probably get everything they need from the people they're attacking."

At this point, the both of you are up to your ankles in water. The canyon is fairly wide at the bottom and grows so much narrower towards the top that very little sand makes it through, so you take the liberty of brushing as much of it off of you as possible. The both of you pass the last of the stone ruins. Up ahead is just bare, mostly untouched canyon. It's damp enough to support an amount of greenery that seemed a little out of place in the desert. You can still hear the wind howl, but it's a bit quieter here.

You and Sanad pass an opening in the wall to your right, leading to a dead end with a fairly deep pool and what looked to be a crumbled stone bridge.

"Your theory is a little... out there, but some of it definitely makes a good deal of sense."

"It's an early hypothesis! We'll revise it as we find more evidence."

You roll your eyes a bit. "It's alright, I'm not judging you."

You look around again. There's plenty of dry places to stop and rest without worrying about sand, so this should be an adequate place to wait it out.

"Why don't we stop here?"

"Not yet!" Sanad points further into the cave, where it opens up some more, with a rock jutting out of the center of the room, surrounded on one side by a shallow stream of water. "I can see more ruins in there! You can stop there and I can keep looking around."

You sigh, for what felt like the hundredth time. As much as you wanted to rest, it wasn't far away at all. "Alright. But we're still going back to that mechanism immediately once the sandstorm is over."

"I know, I kn–"

From an entrance to another path to your right came a blur, barreling right at Sanad. You have barely enough time to shove him behind you and out of its way before it stops in front of you both, dark claws bared.

Now that you can get a look at it, you realize it's a scarred, shirtless man with a dark head of hair, sharp indigo eyes, and... two pale, straight horns? Looking down, he doesn't have a pair of legs, but a sand-colored snakelike tail with rough scales. Even without the rest of his tail, which was hidden behind him, he's quite literally twice your size.

A naga?

He sneers at your sword as you pull it from your sheath, showing off a long pair of fangs. "A little short, isn't it?" He hisses. "Good luck with that."

"Sanad, get back!" You cry, holding your sword out in front of you threateningly. The naga seemed more amused than anything, simply starting to circle. Watching.

While you backed up to keep the naga from getting between you and Sanad, he hurriedly ran far back the way the both of you came, staying just close enough to watch the both of you.

Without warning, the naga lunged forward, one claw-tipped hand reaching out to swipe at you. You swung your sword at his arm, but missed, just barely grazing his side. Still, it was enough to force him back. He brushed over the superficial wound with one hand, smearing what little blood came from it, taking a look.

You stand there, adrenaline pumping through your veins, unsure of what to do. His reach was almost as long as yours, even though you were the one with the sword. This has to be who you're looking for, but you're beginning to think that you should've brought more people.

When he looks back at you, that cruel sneer is still set in his face, but a glint of annoyance is now present in his eyes.

"Lucky hit. Don't count on it happening again."

He doesn't hesitate, rushing forward immediately. You swing again, but it's too early, and he barely has to slow down before he's coming at you again. He's so close now that he grabs your shoulder, claws digging in hard enough to draw blood, shoving you down. In a blind panic, you're forced to adjust your grip on your sword so that you can bring your arm back and stab into his tail.

Before you even realize what's happened, you're on the ground, wind knocked out of your lungs. The arm that had held your sword is pinned to the ground by one of his hands, the other still holding onto your shoulder. You wheeze pathetically while he leans down and slides his fangs into your throat.

Your sword had bounced off of his scales, barely even leaving a mark.

The first thing you feel in your throat is pain, followed by an overwhelming numbing sensation, only interrupted by pins and needles. He chuckles as you thrash around in his hold, your free hand trying to push him off. The sensation is spreading, from your shoulder down even to your fingertips. The only thing you can do is let out a pained groan.

The pressure, from anything, from his hands on you to your own as you push and hit him, hurts. Like everything that touches you only pushes those pins and needles deeper into your skin. It's this feeling that finally makes you go limp in his hold, giving in. It gives you the chance to look up, focus on anything but him, and see that Sanad has long since abandoned you. Lucky bastard.

You hope that he gets away, at least. Even as the half-snake thing on you pulls away to hold your face in one hand, forcing you to look at him.

"Seems your little friend didn't care for you as much as you cared for him. Don't worry. I'll do you a favor and make sure he gets what's coming to him." You manage to focus on his face, smeared with your blood and that same, ever-present sneer, but with something else behind it. Something vindictive.

You grit your teeth. It stung, even though you knew it was the only reasonable thing for Sanad to do.

It's petty, and it won't do you any favors, but you lift your arm and slap him across the face as hard as you can. The impact alone sends shocks of pain down your arm, but he barely even moves.

Instead, he laughs in your face, dark amusement flitting across his hauntingly beautiful features. "What was that? A love tap? After everything, I'm surprised you can even try." He leans in closer still, your noses almost touching.

"I'm sure you feel proud of yourself, don't you? Good job! I might just leave you for last, then."

Without another word, he dashes off to find Sanad, and all you can do is pray the snake isn't successful. After all, what's a pampered Akademiya researcher to do against a man-eating monster?

You try to stand, but a bone-deep exhaustion pulls at your limbs. You can only get halfway up before your vision starts to go dark and you collapse onto the ground in a graceless heap. The pressure still hurts, a strange buzzing sensation rising alongside the needles and numbness. All you can do to help it is curl onto your side, minimizing your contact with the ground.

You lay there for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness for who knows how long. The pain is fading slightly, but you're not sure if it only feels that way because you're getting used to it.

Maybe you're dying.

A chill goes down your spine at the thought, and you do your best to dismiss it. It isn't hard, not when your thoughts are interrupted by a terrified, blood-curdling scream cut too short to be natural.

It brings you back to your senses. You keep listening, but you can't hear any more noises over the constant sounds of the canyon. Dripping water, falling sand, and the howling wind.

If that was Sanad, then since you're already deep within the snake's den, it must be only a matter of time before he gets back...

You're pushing yourself back on your feet before you know it, another rush of adrenaline supporting you. To do what, you're not sure. If you couldn't win before, you certainly can't now. But you're already running as best you can to where you saw Sanad go, though it's more of a relatively fast half-stumble than anything else. Everything still hurts, and beneath the venom you can start to feel your muscles ache too, but if you focus on moving it isn't unbearable.

You forgot your sword. You'd turn back to get it, but even with the adrenaline your limbs feel like lead, and your sword arm is so weak you don't think you could do more than carry it anyway.

You've just reached the ruins again, and looking around at all the nooks and crannies gives you the idea to hide. As sluggish and unarmed as you are, you can't fight anyway. Maybe if you hide long enough, he'll go away. Sanad might still be alive, if you can make it to him.

You don't know how long you were laying there, but if you could hear Sanad, they couldn't have gotten far. That fact is a double-edged sword, you realize. It's been a while since you heard his scream, and if the naga was coming back then it wouldn't be long until you saw him. You don't have much time.

You stagger your way as fast as you can manage to your right. You don't see anywhere to hide down at the bottom, but there are plenty of places above. It's so much harder than walking on flat ground, but you force yourself up a wooden ramp onto a stone platform. There aren't a variety of places to hide here, either, but you don't have the energy to go up any higher.

You hear the water below you being disturbed, in a way too constant to be footsteps, and you quickly duck forward to avoid being seen. You don't dare look, instead opting to slowly move towards a large stone statue to your right, as quietly as possible. With one look back to make sure he hadn't come up to check, you hide behind the stone dais that the statue rested on.

You take a breather, listening for any more sounds. You can't hear the water being disturbed anymore, but the thought of moving alone is both terrifying and exhausting. If you wait too long and he finds you gone, he'll probably come back to look for you. On the other hand, if you leave too early and he hears you...

With this in mind, you rest a few minutes more. The wind is slowing down, and there's less sand in the air than there was when you and Sanad first came through, so the sandstorm has likely stopped. At least the naga won't have that going for him too, once you and Sanad leave.

You'd stay longer, but the anxiety eats at you. It's only a matter of time until the naga comes back, and you don't know what condition Sanad is in.

You get up on shaking legs, your body begging you to sit back down and rest more. You know better, so you force yourself forward, looking over the ledge to make sure he isn't nearby.

You stumble back down the wooden ramp, turning to continue down the path to the exit. You have to stick to the sides of the path, where the sand is highest, just to make sure nobody can hear the sounds of splashing water.

Sanad can't be too far off now. Maybe he'll be in the same state you are, and you both can return to the Tanit camp and get help. You still have your pack on you, but the only thing that might be useful soon is the small first aid kit and the knife.

You really hope you won't need the knife.

Just in case, you pull it out of your pack and put in in your pocket. You're out of the water now, but you've come to a steep hill. The only way out is up. You hope you can make it.

You grit your teeth, sweat dripping down the side of your face as you force yourself up the incline. Onward and upward, you think bitterly. The overused phrase "ad astra abyssosque" parroted endlessly by everyone else at the Adventurer's Guild comes to mind. You never thought you'd make it to the stars or abyss to begin with, but you didn't think your journey would end so soon, either.

Your muscles burn with exhaustion, and you think you can feel the numbness slowly spreading further into your legs. Still, you continue upwards, at a much slower pace, even as you almost collapse a few times.

You come up to a point where the hill flattens out for a short distance. You're panting from the exertion, and you almost breathe a sigh of relief until you see what's in front of you.

"Sanad!"

Before you know it, you've staggered forward to collapse at his side. He's lying face-down on the ground in a small pool of his own blood.

You turn him over, tears pricking at your eyes, praying his condition wasn't as bad as it seemed. His head lolled to the side, face pale and eyes empty, unmoving. The blood, on the ground and splattered all over the front of his Akademiya robes, still dripped from the massive tear in his neck. It looked like a set of claws had dug into his skin and tore off the front of his throat.

Your breath hitches, and you fall backwards, dropping his body. Tears well up in your eyes. Why hadn't he done the same to you? Why did he do so much worse to-

"So, so loyal. Like a dog running to protect its master. You're adorable, really, even if you're a little late."

You freeze, only turning your head to look over your shoulder at him. He's slowly approaching, a condescending smirk on his lips. Half-dried blood covers one of his hands.

"There's no need to mourn. He was pathetic. Did you know that he only cared enough to fight when it was his life on the line?" He looked distant for a moment, before looking at you with something almost soft in his eyes. It disappeared so fast, you'd almost think you had imagined it, the condescending smirk and mock pity sliding to cover his face once more. "You poor thing. You're better off without him. No need to thank me."

You blink away the tears, an idea coming to mind. You couldn't overpower or outrun him, so there's only one possible option for you. "You're a... you're a lying bastard! What else was he going to do?" You yelled at him, pushing yourself up on unsteady legs to face him, backing over your friend's body.

"Humans are untrustworthy," he croons, following after you. His eyes don't leave you even once. He's sizing you up, and with nothing more than a moment of contemplation, his smirk widens and a victorious glint appears in his narrowed eyes. "He was using you. Once you were no longer useful to him, he discarded you. It's pretty naive to think he left you with any other thought in mind."

You don't dignify that with a response, continuing to back up. One of your hands almost moves down to your pocket, where your knife is hidden, but you stop it before he sees.

Your heel hits the sharp incline behind you, where the hill keeps going, and you fall backwards and hit the ground. A derisive snort comes from the snake.

"I've decided what I'm going to do with you. It's much better than what I did to your friend, here. You should thank me, really." He towers over you, leaning down to your level, setting a hand down on the ground next to you. Your hand twitches for your knife.

He watches you for a moment, a quiet, breathy laugh leaving his lips at your frozen state. All you do is stare at him, shaking from the adrenaline. Finally, his other hand comes up to rest on the nape of your neck, pushing you closer to him. You can feel the sticky blood on his fingers.

His eyes glimmer with excitement, and he continues while your hand slowly drifts to your pocket. "You're just helpless. I think I'm going to keep you with me, like a little p-"

You thrust your knife at him, landing a hit on his side while he lurches away. Your blood runs cold. It should have been buried hilt-deep, but instead all you've done is leave a bleeding gash. It's not quite superficial, but it won't stop him, and you know you won't be able to land another.

His lips curl in a snarl as you scramble backwards up the hill. You turn, and start running, but adrenaline can only carry you so far. You feel almost like you're in a nightmare, fully conscious and trying to run but unable to move at any pace that could possibly save you.

It only takes a moment for a large hand to wrap around your ankle, dragging you underneath him. Your face hits the ground and your hands scrabble for purchase, but the dirt and sand only give way beneath your fingers. His other hand finds the wrist with the knife, squeezing tightly enough that you can feel the pain, even underneath the lingering numb, buzzing sensation. You can't feel your hand well enough to keep holding onto the knife. The pins and needles return, and tears prick at your eyes.

He knocks the knife far away from you and flips you over to look at him, dark eyes still burning with anger. "You're alive only because I let you live. Did you really think trying that was smart? Did you finally get it all out of your system, or do you want to try again?"

You try to speak, but the words get caught on the lump in your throat. A hand slams on the ground next to you, and you shrink in on yourself.

"Well?" A glimmer of satisfaction appeared in his eyes, even as his lip curled in a mixture of amusement and contempt. "I'm waiting."

It's all you can do to croak out a few apologies and look away, unable to stand his stare.

A deep chuckle resonates from his chest, and his other face grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. "Good enough," he croons. "Looks like it won't be so bad for you, then."

"What? What won't?" you whimper. His hand lets go of your face, drifting down to encircle your neck. Your hands instinctively wrap around his wrist, silently begging him not to squeeze.

That little mocking smile on his face widens. His hand tightens a little, and you panic for a second, but it doesn't go any further. Instead, his eyes grow distant, thinking.

They brighten up again, an idea coming to mind. He laughs quietly to himself, pulling his other hand off the ground and trailing it down your leg. "You can call me... Kunikuzushi. I think I know what I'm going to do with you now."

"Please don't hurt me," you plead, vision blurring with tears. He doesn't even look at you, instead watching his hand as he grabs your calf and pulls it up. "It's a little late for that," he hums, adjusting his grip to hold onto your ankle instead. His fingers are long enough to wrap fully around it and then some.

"I can't watch you all the time, and I need to buy myself enough time to get something to restrain you with... besides, you deserve this anyhow."

You were about to ask him what he meant by that, but with a distressing amount of ease, he twisted your ankle to the side hard enough that you could hear the pop. The pins and needles returned to that area full-force, the buzzing and numbing sensations right behind it. It didn't hurt that much, though. You could feel an ache beneath it all, but it didn't hurt as much as it should have. You were sure you could still walk on it.

Until you looked down, where it was still in his hand, twisted so far to the side that you weren't sure it would ever be the same again. It doesn't hurt that much, but your shoulders still shake and you still start to cry.

"There, there," he murmurs, dropping your ankle to stroke your hair. He leans down lower, a smile a little too sharp to be soft on his lips. "You'll be okay. I wouldn't get a pet if I couldn't take care of it."

You try to push him away. You know you need to do something about your ankle, but he only presses closer, resting more of his weight on you so thay you can't see it anymore. "It's a bit too late for that now, don't you think?" he whispers, leaning in to press his lips against yours, too eager and with too much teeth. You flail a bit, trying to push him off, but he only chuckles into the kiss, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. An arm wraps around your waist, pushing you closer.

It feels like an eternity, but soon he's sweeping you up and slinging you over his shoulder. He turns around to go back down into the canyon, and you watch Sanad's corpse disappear over the hill.

This time, you can feel him rumble with the force of his laugh.

"I'm going to have so much fun with you."

[quaranmine]

On Wednesday before I gave my presentation I confessed to a new employee that I was worried it would be too long and she brightly told me her life hack was to just let AI rewrite things for her. She said I should put in all my talking points and ask ChatGPT to give me a five minute exactly presentation. I was like....how is the most polite possible way (since this is a new colleague I shouldn't get off on the wrong foot with) that I can express that I will Not be taking this advice. Ever. I told her that I didn't think we were allowed to use ChatGPT at this job (we most certainly are not, it is a nightmare for any type of protected information) and also that I prefer to write all of my own work. Despite my best efforts the last part of that was still passive aggressive, lol.

Something about being a writer makes it so that it's almost offensive to me for someone to suggest I use AI to do my work instead? Like, the day I reach the point where I let AI write something for me is the day y'all need to be checking me for brain damage because clearly I'm losing it

[sn0wfall-29]

AU idea: Shady Oaks DanTDM (SO!Dan) and Custom Mod Adventures Reboot DanTDM (Reboot!Dan) are from the same universe but from two different timelines.

SO!Dan

Dr Trayaurus dies

Dan is so filled with grief he stays cooped up in the lab and basically isolates himself, not answering anyone's calls or texts

Eventually Squid, Thinknoodles and ThnxCya get worried and decide to check on him

They stay for a few days to get Dan to take care of himself again; making sure to check in on him everyday after they leave

The lab is quiet once again, making Dan realize he really does not like being alone

He joins Shady Oaks SMP a few months later

Insists he's fine now (he isn't)

Kindness ensues

Kindness manipulates him easy due to him still being mentally and emotionally vulnerable; resulting in his sort of villan arc and him turning out the way he does

Reboot!Dan

Trayaurus is alive and well (they had one close call but they don't talk about that)

Still loves working in the lab and doing experiments with his best friend

Was invited to join some sort of SMP but declined because he prefers to stay in the lab; still gets updates from his friends every once in a while (Kindness never happened cause he never cursed the sword)

Trayaurus walks up to him with plans to make a time machine and Dan agrees to help build it

Something goes wrong and Dan gets sent through the time machine

Trayaurus is desperately fiddling with the controls, trying to get him back

Something happens and Dan is brought back

Trayaurus asks him what he saw, helping him up

That's when he notices that Dan looks different

Like, really different

He quickly realized that this is not his Dan

The Dan in front of him is quiet, looking at him like his whole world just imploded

Meanwhile, Reboot!Dan is in a world he has never seen before, almost convincing himself he's in the future

Squid just appears and starts talking weird, trying to convince him that he's called Kindness for some reason

'Kindness-who-totally-isn't-Squid' starts saying stuff about finding the next netherite piece (can he not just craft it?)

He does not fall for Squid's antics, telling him he's being weird

Comes to the conclusion that he's not where he's supposed to be and tries to find someone who can help him, but strangely, almost everyone here refuses to talk to him (except for Squid, but Dan doesn't want to talk to him)

No matter where he goes everyone makes it obvious they do not trust him, including people that should know him

Figures he gonna have to find out how to get home on his own

(Or he eventually gains the trust of some of the other members on the server)

[skrunksthatwunk]

you go to a lesbian blog and find it says women only!! no men allowed!!! and go oh! excuse me, um, what about other lesbians? plenty of lesbians are genderqueer... and they go well, okay, go fuck yourself tim chop off your sweaty dick and stop calling yourself a lesbian. you do not have a dick, actually. you think about that fact often, even though it does you no good. you do not tell this person that.

you go to another lesbian blog and it says women only and you try again, and this time they change it to wlw + nblw only (non-men who love non-men :D). and you'll say hey i appreciate that but gender's not really that cut and dry for a lot of people. someone could be both a man and nonbinary, for instance. i just worry that you're looking at nonbinary as a generic third gender, or an extension of womanhood. i mean yeah you include nblw in your tags but all your posts are about pussy-havers exclusively. what's with that? and they say go fuck yourself you pervy man pretending to be a lesbian. you tried to sneak in but i won't let you.

so you go to a lesbian blog with a dozen or so posts about queer people needing to be more weird about it and you sigh in relief. but you still see the men dni. that's odd. hoping for the best, you say hey! i know you mean well but please maybe don't put men dni at the end of the lovely posts on your lesbian blog bc some lesbians are men. and they'll be like ok!! well you're allowed ;) and you say no that's not. no. some men are lesbians not just me. you think about your own dicklessness and wonder if that's why you were given entry. and you add that even if male lesbians are allowed, there's no indication of that. how would anyone know without asking? and they're like ohh gotcha gotcha well men dni + this is for sapphics only!! and you'll be like ok well that treats the concepts of men and sapphics as mutually exclusive identities and i just told you that's not true and you agreed with me so.. i don't think that solves our problem. and they're like. ok. fine. men dni but genderfluid and multigender people are allowed! and you're like no see that's. that's still the same thing.. you're saying the same thing just with different words. if you don't want men to interact but you're fine with multigender/genderfluid/etc ppl interacting then you either don't see them as Real Men (because they don't reach a standard of Full Manhood) or Complete Men (because they're only Part-Time Men), both of which suggest that they are, in some way, not men or less-than men, which is invalidating and defeats the point of the exception in the first place (accommodation) OR that you don't really mean the dni which is confusing and inconsistent and makes guydykes feel weird and uncomfortable and excluded from the lesbian space you're trying to cultivate. and they're like um. ok. so. cishet men dni? and you're like well i think that makes more sense, but what if someone identifies as both a cishet man and a sapphic? again, if we're trying to accommodate the genderfucky populace then that has to be a possibility that is considered. and they say god you people are never happy. what do you want me to do? what am i supposed to say to keep the right men out? and you pause. you empathize with the need for a space free from dudes trying to fuck you straight and feminine. dudes who watch lesbian porn and joke about what they'd do if they were allowed into girls locker rooms. who look at you like a piece of meat, and like someone who looks at women like pieces of meat in the same way he does. you get it. you know. you want a space where you can be sapphic, too. that's why you came to these blogs in the first place. you brace yourself and you say well i don't know that there are "right men" to keep out. i don't know that there's any single label that would accomplish whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. you could go for "sapphics only" or "queers only" and i think that might be the closest thing to what you want, but it's never going to be perfect. creating any exclusive space is going to shut out people you didn't account for, and the broader the label, the more people will be shut out that you didn't want to shut out. and what about people who don't know if they're allowed? what of questioning transbians, where are they supposed to go? and, frankly, i think i might rather my dykey posts get read and appreciated by a gay guy who sees me as a man than a woman who only sees me as a sacred womb, pure from male perversions or violence or whatever. i think community might just be more complex than a dni can handle. and they look at you and say i don't want to not have a dni. i think you're too permissive. you can't just "what about" or microlabel your way into everything. go fuck yourself, i bet you're not even a lesbian anyway. go find a real problem to get mad about.

you go to a lesbian blog. you ignore the men dni because you know you probably don't even count to them. or maybe you do count and, out of respect for your manhood, they'd shun you accordingly. you try to feel okay about that. you scroll past dozens of posts about mediocre men and gagging at straight friends' boyfriends and how gross and undeserving men are of the beautiful women they couple up with and how all women should be gay so they can get treated right and and and and and. you finally find a post about curling into someone you love and feeling at peace and try to lose yourself in it. you know that feeling is what unites you, what makes you belong. you try to focus on it. you think about carding your hands through a butch's hair or lacing fingers with a femme and feeling warm and loved and more yourself than you ever have before. like this is who you're meant to be. you read about lesboys and butch boytoys and genderfucky dykes and big hairy deep-voiced wonderful women (like you want to be someday, like you wish you could make yourself) and you try to ignore the men dni underneath each and every post. and you daydream about meeting someone kind and earnest at a lesbian bar even though you don't think any such bars exist within three states of you and you can't drink and don't want to drink because you need to be in control of yourself at all times so you don't fuck up like you're always about to and here in the nonexistent lesbian bar you feel wanted and safe and in good company. you picture your ideal, happiest self. it is a mistake. ideal-you has a goatee. not the mascara one you smear on and call drag even though you know it's not drag, not really, the beard you call drag because you think everyone would look at you sadly if you told them it was just to pretend you had something out of your reach. a beard that's soft and that you grew and that cannot be smudged away if you get too comfortable with it. the dream shatters. your people pull away from you, their scoffs mixing with the mind-numbing gay girl bedroom pop you learned to settle for just to have something that almost resembled you, they all pull away and turn their backs and do not look at you. you're too close to being a man now, even though you're the same amount of man as before. and they know you're not supposed to interact with men, not as you would with dykes, at least. and it sours. it's all your imagination, all in your head, but it sours.

you sigh. you think about how small you are. how short, how narrow, how feeble. how your voice pitches up when you talk to strangers because it's easier to speak quietly when it carries more, and because you're nervous. because it's a chore to talk, like everything is. you think about testosterone. you think about how your family would look at you, the questions they would ask, your answers they would only pretend to accept. the uncomfortable glances and whispered questions they'd try to hide from you. you think about how small you are, and how small you will always be. how you don't know of a way to fix it, but even if there was one, no one would want you anymore. you'd be the only one thinking it made you a cooler dyke. you think about how you don't even want a T-voice all the time, how you'll never be able to switch it at will, because you don't know how and can't bring yourself to figure it out. you think about how your throat closes around every hint of your own attraction. how wanting is perverse, how wanting is invasive, how wanting is embarrassing and too vulnerable so it must stay anonymous, as an online witness, and how you can barely manage to form or maintain friendships because your brain makes you pull away, always spinning out and struggling to recover from the simplest of interactions. how they'll all leave you and you won't chase after them at all and how that will hurt them. how stuck you get. how it looks like nothing's holding you back, how that frustrates everyone who thought you were going to be more than you were. the people you love who understand except when it comes to being ghosted, being shut out. how you don't want to hurt them. how you can't tell them that because you're stuck. how you turn to stone when touched, how you never reach out, how you lose your speech and can't look at people, how your autism is fun and sexy until it becomes real and you never see them anymore, how much you longed for someone who knew everything without you having to explain, and who loved you anyway. how unreasonable you know that is to expect of anyone. you think about that not-even-real lesbian bar. you think about how you still can't drive. how you can't leave your home on your own, without dragging somebody into helping you. how you can't leave your body. how you can't leave your manhood behind.

you think about finding another lesbian blog and ignoring everything. about skimming it for the parts you can juice some meaning from. the parts men ignore and don't understand, and how typical of you it is to do so. or the parts where you're not welcome and you should accept that, because it's for lesbians only. how you are a lesbian anyway. how you're meant to choose lesbian or man, how each is a betrayal of some kind to yourself or your people, your family, your lovely strangers, your rare friendly acquaintances. about the parts that tell you you're not wanted, that you're ugly and lazy and gross and insert yourself everywhere without even asking. about the parts that tell you you are hated, and how lesbians are above it all by rejecting men. how lesbians are each blessed miracles. about the parts that say you should be ashamed of being whatever twisted confused freak you are, of everything, of looking and wanting or not looking or not wanting, of picking and choosing instead of taking it all in with a smile. after all, shouldn't you take it? or is your ego too fragile, as men's so often are? aren't you tired? good. we're not here for your consumption. and we sure as hell don't want your company or "community" or whatever. didn't you read the sign? no boys allowed. and if you want to come in you have to make up your mind. as if you haven't told them the only answer you have. you're both. you're both.

you know you broke the rule by interacting.

but it gets lonely sometimes. you wonder if they know.

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

Persona 5/ Persona 5 royal spoilers ahead!

Okay so I did this WIP a while back that I discontinued but I'm still going insane about the meaning of it and also the symbolism of masks in this game and also akeshu parrallels so I need to Yap abt them

Yap session under the cut!

The symbolism of masks in this game drives my so batshit insane actually. Like. So often we see in media that people are finally free when they take their mask off (both metaphorically and literally) but in this game we see people's true forms when they put one ON.

Like the palaces are where we see people's true faces and desires. It's the place where no one can hide who they are. And yet it's one one place where you wear a physical mask and disguise and have to conceal who you are.

I could (and will at some point) write an entire essay about that but rn it's akeshu hours

Because Joker is arguably the best example of that, he becomes alive in the palaces, where his face his hidden. It's his freedom

Versus Akechi

The first time we see Akechi show his true form to Joker (and the player) is in what is percieved at the time as the real world. The entire time we work together in the palace, the place that shows who you are despite the mask you wear he hides who he is. It's only in the gritty real world that he reveals himself.

Joker in the real world is perceived (at least by people outside of his circle) as closed off and someone to be cautious around, he has a criminal record so he could be dangerous. The exact opposite of how he is in palaces, the centre of the team and a flame people are drawn towards

VERSUS AKECHI

In the real world he is a celebrity, he is loved, people are drawn to him. But in palaces he's cold and heartless, his words are cutting and he cares for no one, not hesitating to kill to achieve his goal

Opposites in every sense

THE ABSOLUTE PARALLELS IT DRIVES ME INSANEASHBANANSJAKSS

They were both ruined by the same man. They both ended up in their current predicament because of said man. They both had the potential to weild multiple personas. They both have the capability to lead. They are the exact same and yet the exact opposite

They don't need to lie awake at night and wonder what would they be like if their life had turned out slightly differently. They don't need to because they have each other. EVERYTIME THEY GO INTO A PALACE THEY SEE WHO THEY COULD'VE BEEN, THEY FIGHT WITH THAT PERSON SIDE BY SIDE EVERY NIGHT I'M GOING MAD

[ra-archives]

And thats why Wild isn't allowed to walk around Skyloft on his own anymore.

Lu-tober day 23-24-25 (Cause my internet hates me lmao)

No prompt, just video :)

This was supposed to come out yesterday but then my interned died thE SECOND I was done. Literally, in the middle of rendering and my music stops working, I get confused, look around, see my internets down. Wasn't even up back in the morning D:

[zeldasadork]

musing outloud. ford clearly liked and cared about mabel but he was also. kindof dismissive of her as someone to trust OR worry after too much? up until she was directly put into mortal peril to threaten him and (more speculatively) up until she was the only one who kept trying to help stan. he didn't consider her until it affected him.

he did similar to dipper, he liked the kid well enough but didn't really take him into consideration until he could see himself in dipper (and even in that consideration, he didn't really see dipper's relationships as something to consider. don't tell the others, trust no one)

of course I say this with all the love in my heart because him being self-centered is very much a compelling and well-considered character trait. the times he'd relied on others- with stan and with bill and with fiddleford- had all fallen apart, with him alone and left hurting or having hurt. interpersonal relationships weren't really something he thought of with anything warmer than the bittersweet. and in that blindspot of relationships he didn't really seem to fully grasp the responsibility that comes with his 'teen' grandnephew's trust and admiration, what would come if the apprenticeship as proposed went through. or the staggering enormity of love that was stan rebuilding the portal for 30 years despite every single warning and hardship despite all odds to get ford back

[kindahoping4forever]

The 5SOS Show Tour Hollywood - 6 September 2023

Via 5SOS IG Story

[rxj-the-punk]

I'd like to imagine Trein giving out an innocuous assignment one day--pick a children's song/nursery rhyme from your home country, trace its origins, and write an essay on it. Nothing special, just trying to show how deeply entrenched history actually is in culture.

Except for Yuu, for whom this is very special.

Due to their unusual circumstances, he considers assigning a song himself, but decides to use the honor system. Yuu is trustworthy enough, and--sue him--he's a little curious what kind of songs they sing in a world without magic.

Small problem: Yuu doesn't actually know much about that many songs. Oh, my Darling Clementine? That might be a bit morbid, and Trein would probably expect them to explain the gold rush. And also isn't there a line about fairies in there? Good luck explaining the difference between them and fae. Ring Around the Rosie? Not actually American, although nobody can contest them on that, and their last history teacher skimmed the part of the textbook with the Black Death, so no dice. A Tisket, A Tasket? Yuu isn't even sure what part of the world that came from, although "Europe" is probably a safe bet.

...the point is that they can't think up anything that would get a passing grade. And sure, they could admit they've got nothing and accept 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat' or whatever. Or make something up and hope their teacher wouldn't notice, although he'd probably figure it out anyways.

And then they see Malleus walking by Ramshackle and it hits them--Puff the Magic Dragon. It's pretty recent, so they won't need to remember 200+ years of historical context. The lyrics are pretty straightforward, and it should be easy to make up something reasonable sounding to fill in any gaps in their knowledge.

A few drafts and several conversations about the origins of dragons later, Yuu's ready to hand it in. Nothing left to do but wait.

[sskk-manifesto]

\\