#Starting the timeline >:D

[donelywell]

June 25 2023

SEGASonic the Hedgehog

Sonic 9, Mighty 10, Ray 4

Sonic, Mighty, and Ray get kidnapped by Robotnik and they destroy RobotnikLand, escaping by hijacking one of his Planes, the Tornado.

This teaches Sonic that there is more than just Christmas Island and gives him the want for adventure and leaves Mighty and Ray to find his own journey. Mighty and Ray go off on their own adventure later via making a boat, but they take their own time.

Note: Sonic gets caught via the throat, causing damage to his vocal cords, that is why he can’t speak for a few years.

[saucywendeee]

If spawn adventurer Astarion met a non Tav Seraphina after the events of BG3 - New Beginnings AU

[somegrumpynerd]

Before I forgetttttt

So color thinks Killer is brainwashed, BUT, what if one time when Killer's soul is normal and he can feel and think for himself again, what if they are chilling at Color's place and then Killer gets up and says something like "I have to go home, don't want to worry dad"

What would Color think ? Would he rethink everything because "wait, why did you call him dad ???" Or would he think that damn, this brain washing is even worse than he thought because apparently Nightmare makes them call him dad ?? Which is weird even for Nightmare that could be a manipulation method ??

Okay that's it byyyeee

OH I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THESE GUYS OKAY SO!!!!!

(I'm still new to Color so if I'm wicked super wrong let me know!)

I feel like no matter what Killer said about Nightmare, Color wouldn't believe it. If somebody's been held captive so long they no longer think they want to leave, of course they're going to say they like living there. No matter how much Color cares about him, I think he has to consider Killer an unreliable narrator as far as his own situation is concerned.

But! Color's main concern is giving Killer his autonomy back and helping him learn to make his own choices. This unfortunately means if Killer keeps choosing to go back to Nightmare, Color has to respect it.

I feel like the only way he would begin to slowly unwind and trust that Nightmare had good intentions would be to see it for himself repeatedly. It's going to take more than a few good turns to prove that he isn't just putting on an act when Color is watching and then turning the whip on them again when nobody's looking. That's going to be hard to set up though since neither of them want to be around the other very much lol

I do think a good start for it would be Nightmare giving Killer the choice though. Like, not that they don't get to choose things regularly, but Killer isn't really one to think much about what he wants or come forward with it so Nightmare kind of assumes he's content and doesn't really think to check in with him. So if he actually made a point of asking Killer what he wanted and he said he wanted to spend a day with Color, I think that would be a good start. Obviously Color's not gonna jump to trusting him after one day, but hearing that Nightmare is also giving Killer his own choices and actually respecting them might give him a bit more reason to trust him.

That said, the image of Color's face as he asks "he makes you call him dad??" is sending me lol

[luckycheesefoodie321]

That fight had no right to make this emotional on a saturday evening (Whole Cake Island arc)

It’s the fact that, in many ways, it directly contrasted the Usopp-Luffy fight.

Usopp voluntarily left the crew and then challenged Luffy. He was completely and abundantly clear and honest about his intentions. So Luffy had no choice but to meet that determination with a true fight. He didn’t hesitate. He fought him, without regard to their difference in ability or friendship. Or more he fought him BECAUSE of their friendship.

But Sanji came to the fight hiding the truth.

He came to the fight with the intention of deceiving Luffy about his true feelings, his true motivations, and his reasons for fighting.

And Luffy knew that. Sanji was challenging him, and he would never backdown from that. But he wasn’t about to fight his friend knowing he didn’t actually want to fight.

So he can’t fight and he can’t leave. More to the point, leaving would mean he was taking Sanji’s word and abandoning him, when he KNOWS Sanji isn’t telling the truth.

So he stands his ground. He shows Sanji that he’s going to stay there until Sanji tells him the truth. It doesn’t matter how many times he kicks him. He says as much “I know it hurts you more”. He knows that Sanji is in pain with every kick and every blow.

Which is why Sanji is practically begging him to leave. Telling him over and over to go away. So that he can stop hurting his captain, the man who reinvigorated his dream, and the friend (or nakama may have the deeper nuance) whom he believes in absolutely. So he knows at least his crew and captain would be safe from the mess he has to deal with due to his biological family and the threat of a Yonko on his tail.

But he also knows how stubborn Luffy is. If Sanji can’t make him go, then knocking him out so he can leave him behind is the only option left. So he does. He pulls out one of, if not the strongest move in his arsenal and knocks him out.

Add insult to injury, Nami slaps him before he leaves. He couldn’t say a single harsh word to her. Could barely limit his interaction with her to a glare (which I posted about). She slaps him and lays down the only blow dealt in that whole duel, which adds extra impact to his betrayal. He couldn’t say a word in fear of her never ever forgiving him.

But with Luffy, he could get away with it. Putting aside his whole notion of chivalry, on a deeper level, he can say these things with a tiny kernel of subconscious hope within him.

It’s the fact that part of him knows Luffy can sense everything he’s feeling, even if he doesn’t know why, and feels safe enough to say those harsh words to Luffy. His overwhelming trust of Luffy stays strong somewhere deep in his subconscious, so even as he tries desperately to sever ties, he knows Luffy may one day forgive him.

And to confirm that. Luffy calls after him.

“I know you’re lying. I know you didn’t want to do that. I know you’re hurting more than I am. I still need you. You’re my cook. I can’t become Pirate King without you. I won’t leave without you. I won’t eat unless it’s your food! So make sure to come back!”

So, like me, Sanji can’t do anything but cry as they leave Luffy and Nami behind. Even as his conscious brain despairs at having betrayed his captain and crew, it’s extra bitter knowing Luffy still believes in him after all that.

[willczek-art]

Joked that my D&D characters were related and four months later I get hit by the realisation of what that could mean-

[thevioletcaptain]

🙍🏽‍♀️🐷🪷 (i scrolled and picked three random emojis pls enjoy)

“You wanna run that by me one more time?”

On the other end of the line, Patience lets out a long-suffering sigh — as though Dean’s the one making unexpected phone calls at quarter past three in the morning — and says it again. The words don’t make any more sense than they did the first time.

“In fourteen hours and — now seventeen minutes — a pig in Lotus, Illinois is going to die, and unless you save her life, she’s taking everyone in a 50 mile radius with her. And yeah, before you ask me to say it a third time, I am acutely aware of how stupid this sounds.”

“And when you say pig, are we talkin’ Babe, or—?“

“My visions aren’t symbolic, Dean. It’s an actual pig. Her name is Princess.”

“Right. Just… wanted to be sure before we started trailing all the cops in uh, where’d you say? Lotus?”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t find one there anyway. Internet says it’s an unincorporated community — looks like there’s maybe three farms there, total.”

“Looks like?”

“Satellite images,” she says.

“Right. Hey, hold on a sec.”

“‘Kay.”

Rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm, Dean pushes the rest of the way out of bed and throws on the same jeans he took off two hours ago. Switches out the ratty t-shirt he’d been almost-sleeping in for a fresh one, and yanks on his boots.

For once, he’d been planning on sleeping a solid seven hours. He was going to make maple bacon with blueberry waffles in the morning. Jack was going to help him mix the batter.

Depending on how things shake out with Patience’s vision, he might never be able to enjoy bacon again. Or for a few months, at least.

Fully dressed and heading out into the hall, he puts his phone back to his ear.

“I’m back,” he says, making his way toward the kitchen. He thumps twice on Sam’s door as he passes it, barking out a gruff hunt in response to Sam’s bleary huh? “Please tell me you’ve got some idea of how exactly Peppa’s gettin’ popped so we can try to do something about it.”

“I have no clue.”

“And you didn’t see anything else? Any details at all. A barn, a farmer, anything? Because this is…”

“Impossible. I know. But that’s all I’ve got. The pig just keels over, then bursts in a blinding flash of light, and ten seconds later Illinois has a brand new crater the size of New Jersey.”

“Okay, well — that’s something.”

“What?”

“The light. What color is it?”

“White, mostly,” Patience says, then hums a little to herself. “But… huh, actually, there is a bit of purple. Right in the center. Right before it goes supernova.”

“Purple light usually means witchcraft,” Dean says, approaching the kitchen. He can see the light on; can hear the telltale sound of Cas stirring sugar into coffee. “Maybe the pig is the final ingredient in some kind of magic bomb?”

“Could be,” Patience agrees. “But hey, listen, I gotta try and get a couple more hours sleep — huge test in the morning. But if anything else comes to me I’ll call you, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good. And uh— thanks. And good luck.”

“You too.”

The line goes dead just as Dean steps into the kitchen, and Cas looks up at him from the table, where he’s reading an article in one of the Men of Letters’ old issues of The Farmer’s Almanac. He frowns at the sight of the phone in Dean’s hand. Frowns harder still when Dean heads directly for the coffee machine with nothing but a brief brush of a hand over his shoulder.

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s a day ending in Y,” Dean says with a sigh, pouring a cup from the thankfully still-hot jug. “You up for a road trip?”

“Of course. Where are we going?”

"Illinois," Dean tells him, leaning back against the counter as Sam arrives, his hair sticking so far out to one side that Dean suspects it’s generating its own electric charge.

He eyes it over his mug and has the grim thought that all that static electricity might be the thing to light Miss Piggy's fuse. Oblivious to Dean's train of thought, Sam lets out an explosive yawn. Dean bites back the kind of mildly-hysterical laugh that can only come when sleep-deprived and preparing to drive toward impending danger.

"What's in Illinois?" Cas prompts him, and Sam yawns again as he waves a hand for Dean to explain, and Dean takes a long sip of his coffee as he searches for a better way to put it than Patience had managed on her first try.

He's not sure that he succeeds where clarity of substance is concerned, but as far as style goes? He thinks he's nailed it.

“Short version? Royal rescue mission, but the Princess is a pig."

Cas squints at him.

“I think,” he says, looking over at Sam, who is blinking slowly as he tries to parse Dean’s words, “We’re going to need the long version.”

[written for this prompt game] [find me on ao3 as imogenbynight 💚]

[jttw-monkeybusiness]

What was a young Wukong like before the title of king, Great Sage, etc.?

I haven't thought about it too much but I know that at first, he was a pretty chill fellow! He was pretty much the same as in the novel until he became too cocky and overly confident. His egotistical and narcissistic attitude didn't help him either when he was in the Havens.

Fun fact: His eyes were actually white and not yellow before he decided to mess with the Haven and he got yeeted into a furnace for forty-nine days. His eyes were red for a moment until they became golden-ish yellow like his golden headband.

[arospecsyourblockdudes]

i <3 starting new writing projects it is so fun

[geee-three]

Goodmoenirng did you sleep well my dear angel >_<

my dreams are tormented by horrific visions called project sekai shuffle units

[crazy-grrrl-on-the-computer]

Last line tag game!

Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

Tagged by @auniverseforgotten and @thatlittledandere

I'm back on my Ichiryuu bullshit (as if I ever really left)~ uwu <3

The sound of his classmate’s voice earnestly calling out stopped Ichiban from running and he pivoted just enough to see that Zaou’s hand had reflexively reached out – reaching for him – but froze partway. “I was just… surprised,” Zaou explained carefully like he was thinking about each word before he said it. “I am pretty busy, so I wouldn’t have time every day and sometimes certain things come up last minute, but I guess I could use the help.” Ichiban tried to swallow his nerves, but his heart was in the way. “I understand. When would be a good time for you?” Zaou hummed absentmindedly as he searched for an answer, then suddenly his eyes lit up. “Ah! Give me your phone.” Ichiban obediently fished it out of his pocket and placed it in Zaou’s expectant hand. It wouldn’t occur to him until after the shock had worn off that perhaps he should have asked why first, but the fact that Zaou’s fingers were masterfully navigating his phone screen was doing unexpected things to his brain chemistry that he was sure would accidentally translate into a mortifying collection of words the instant he opened his mouth. This was a bad idea. Possibly the worst idea. Why did he ever think he could— “Here,” Zaou mercifully interrupted his spiraling train of thought and held the phone out to him again. “I’ll have to check my schedule first, so I’ll text you when I work something out.”

Trying to pretend that this is a "last line" game instead of just a "last thing I wrote" game is a fool's errand for me at this point. I truly cannot shut up about the things I love and this is my most wordy contribution to the feedback loop yet. //bricked

Tagging: @auniverseforgotten , @darth-salem-emperor-of-earth , @koolkitty9 , @floweryuu , @lanliingwang

As always, there’s no pressure to share and if I missed someone who wants to be included feel free to consider yourself also tagged~ <3

[secretsmutcorner]

Good/bad news: I have started writing every single planned entry in The dragon's toy hurt arc

[itsubear]

Ok since yesterday I started talking about Dusttale here's another thought I had for a while:

Murder can make the human lose determination till their save files don't work anymore in a certain area.

However it's also stated that this doesn't completely limit the human's powers (it makes sense to me, the human having a full DT soul probably can't lose that much DT to stop being able to use those abilities completely)

Now let's take the often used idea of ​​"the player is the real killer, while Frisk is just their puppet/vessel, but Frisk still has their own thoughts and personality".

Imagine a timeline where Frisk is actually able to think, but is only a spectator as the player uses their body to kill everyone.

Imagine if THEY lose almost all their determination after so much despair, making it impossible for the player to save ALL their files.

What would happen? How would they feel? Would they react the same way Chara reacts to a genocide? Would they be able to do something?

This isn't a Dusttale theory 'cause this scenario would change the meaning of Dusttale itself. However I wanted to talk about this, so-- here it is :D

I did my best but plz tell me if I got anything wrong, I don't wanna spread misinformation!

Also sorry if someone already thought of this-

[secret-sector-antag]

🦇⚔ Dhampir Hunter V ⚔🦇

Intros/Profiles Part 1/?: Our Old Friends

It started as a side-job. Numbuh 6-5000 had heard of other kids in the organization who had a sort of side gig, on top of their KND obligations. Detectives, candy hunters...you name it. With her....let's say "extra footing" in the realm of the supernatural, why not a monster hunter? Besides, she could imagine other kids would pay biiiig chunks of their allowance to help with some sort of spooky shit, why tf not?

Granted, the "hunting" wasn't like in the movies where they often...y'know, terminated. In this case, she treated it as a sort of "public health" sort thing: keeping tabs on potential waves of homework-eating weredogs, nerd zombies, vampires (spank-happy or otherwise), things of that nature- and nipping the epidemic in the bud with the power of her combat skills and, of course, medical knowledge and assistance once her target was back to normal. Of course, there were times were her "targets" weren't of a spooky nature, and they turned into more of a mythical creature hunt, but hey; she did have "hunter" in her name, so...kinda came with the territory, right?

For almost 2 years, Val roamed the nights on patrol for supernatural threats to kid-kind.

Then came her 13th birthday.

With her sector being of a rather...unique...nature, and how much of a help that could be, the organization all but confirmed that, come everyone's respective 13th, they'd be inducted to the TND...of course, under the condition that they don't turn traitor or royally screw up. ...Aaaaand of course, they kept this "all of you get in! :D" tidbit until then. Jerks.

Having not really heard from a couple of the other older operatives of the sector (specifically Ramsay and Candy...but that's because they were on their own mission elsewhere), she assumed that they were decommissioned and had integrated into the confusing, zit-filled world of teenhood...and with her being summoned to Moonbase, the same was about to happen to her, too. But boy, was she wrong. She is informed that her assistance is urgently requested in Schprekenheim (see Op. C.A.K.E.D.-T.H.R.E.E.), according to a letter sent to both her and the higher-ups of Moonbase.

Thing is...the letter is from what appears to be an outside organization, only referred to as S.C.A.R.E.. The letter states that the area is experiencing a surge of incidents involving homework-eating weredogs, some new beast known as a "StrigOwie", and other paranormal sorts of beings involved in anti-kid activity. Having gotten wind of several of the KND's missions (overall, not as a sector proper) in their area, they had put in an inquiry to see if there was anyone that could potentially help them with their, aaaah... "unique" problem.

Although Val had been doing this sort of "monster hunter job" as a side gig. her encounters were relatively few and far between....now being sent into the area that appears to be teeming with them, she needs to keep her wits about her.

...Then there's the whole issue of "dhampir puberty" that starts coming into play- including mood swings, power spikes, this weird, hand-print-like mark that develops on her face (after the first big emotion/power spike)...could she be turning into one of the monsters she's sworn to fight against?

...On a good note, though she is a stranger in a strange land and has no idea what to expect on her assignment, she does have a familiar face/voice that- albeit several hundreds of miles away- is able to bring her up to speed on some things.

Supposedly, the times that she was on "urgent business" were actually prep classes by some of the more tech-y operatives...

While Minerva is stationed at the Sector ANTAG HQ, she can at least be of some help: keeping Val and her temporary teammates up to date on reports...and of course, listening to her girlfriend talk about her day and helping her through your standard " teenage girl" issues.

---------------- *Author's Note: "Danger Level" and "Priority Target Level" are kind of the same thing? Only difference is that "DL" is used mainly for operatives actively out in the field/"active combat", while "PTL" are those who aren't/aid in a different area and spend most of their time NOT in the field.*

[thedemises]

note!... woo! 1,290 words this time, and im quite proud of this myself ngl. i came up with the idea of reader becoming so irritated to the point of threatening a shopkeeper for lying about the exact amount of berries that they gave him (does that summary make sense?)—and also, the shop owner refers to the reader with the usage of the ‘she’ feminine pronoun once but no one really cares in this scenario (unless that makes you uncomfortable, then im sorry—i can't predict everyone's pronouns and not everybody's the same, the world would be boring if it were like that though). reader is implied to be taller and swears fairly quite a lot in this one-

━━.  MONEY COUNT。straw hats scenario!!

as much as you tried to keep your cool calm and steady and not go boiling to the point of going berserk, unbeknownst to the shopkeeper of the store, your patience was running thin when a second passes.

staring down at the shopkeeper, you attempted to not show any signs of irritation but the twitching in your eye says otherwise. you could say that you were glad he didn't notice—but at the same time, you wanted him to see you slowly get into a state of boiling exasperation.

it was supposed to be a simple task to restock the ship after docking on the island; go in, tell the owner what you needed, pay, and get back to the ship—simple, right? however, of course, this shopkeeper—despite appearing to be a relatively frail, old man—had to be an absolute asshole. and for what reason did he had to be one? putting aside that he might know you're a pirate beforehand—it'd be little to none.

as the old geezer harshly tells you to give him the “correct” amount, your hand subconsciously flexes and clench your fist with your thumb inside all your fingers—squeezing hard enough for you to crack a joint in your thumb painlessly.

going through your assorted memories in your head, you knew for a fact that from the back of your mind—you counted the money correctly although the man before you keeps making false statements about it. hell—your ship's navigator, nami, had counted out that exact amount ahead of time and that woman was so tight about money that not only was she rarely that far off, but there’s no possible way you, or she, could've ‘miscounted’ according to you.

standing face-to-face with the store owner with the berries in your hand (one that isn't clenched into a fist; yet shaking in visible anger), you were seconds before bursting into an eruption of negative emotions at the man who woke up and decides to play the role of “The Jerk” on a thursday morning—which you did, but through actions instead.

a loud bang suddenly vibrates through the air which made the shopkeeper flinch violently and shut his mouth quick, simultaneously his hands were up in defense position as he draws his attention away from you and his spooked eyes travel towards to the double-headed spear you've brung along with you (who knows how long he hadn't noticed the weapon you sported since you entered the shop), which had one of the two blades stuck into the wood of the table that separates both the buyer and the seller, nudged well into it that the wood might break into two if you pressed down any further.

silence emits the air for a few seconds, besides your deep breathing that could be heard as much as you tried to slow it down and not express your intense irritation to the owner—although he could already sense your anger.

a chuckle slips from your tongue, your adam's apple bopping slightly. “oh? but  i'm sorry, sir, i am certain that i counted the correct amount—” —the corners of your own lips upturn as you continue, “—even a friend of mine did it herself. there isn't a chance that both of us could perhaps be...” slowly, you lift your head up and stare into his eyes with your own blank intimidating ones—a threatening grin sports your features and the matching menacing glint in your eyes never fades, making the shop owner's fear of you increase now that he realizes the upcoming situation.

“wrong?” you could feel yourself laughing even more as you added on more threat-laced sentences after the other. “i don't give a shitty damn that you already knew i'm a pirate, i'm still a customer nonetheless, no?” you hum with a perked eyebrow, almost mocking him in some way.

“well—”

“oh, i see.. how about i just show you every way that you could be obviously wrong about this, you old scummy son of a dead bitch—”

just then, a bang similar to the one but louder before interrupts the one-sided-argument-turning-interrogation—making the frightened shopkeeper flinch once again at the noisiness.

“hey [name]! there you are!!” luffy’s upbeat voice called and vibrates through the tense air of the store, his iconic smile greeting you when you glanced over. following him after on his two sides were roronoa zoro and sanji, both simply glared at the owner you were about to spill the most unthinkable threats you could've thought of at the top of your head. to this, you sigh and force your spear to hodge itself out of the table's wood which left a evident scar—a silent threat from you to the shopkeeper.

“nami said you were late so we came to check on you.” luffy explains briefly before he noticed the fearful expression on the shop owner's face and appears confused for a moment. “huh? why does that guy look so afraid? did you do something?” the straw hat captain looks you for an answer.

sanji was the second one to speak up, as zoro scans the shop's interior. “[name]-san, do you mind telling us what’s going on here?” asked the cook as he walks up to you and checks your face closely with narrowed eyes.

“did he hurt you anywhere?” the shopkeeper takes the chance to speak up for once in a while, his voice trembling in the remaining fear you made him feel. “th- that wretched brat didn’t pay me the exact amount!” he takes a shallow breath in, sweating building up around his neck, “she still owes me at least a bit more berries because of that!” the man yells, pointing an accusing finger at you—to which you scoffed at and simultaneously rolled your eyes, directing your hued-gaze down at the blond man standing beside you.

“that asshole is telling bullshit after bullshit i tell you,��� you grumbled, placing a hand in your hip as you switch to different position to your taste, almost in a similar pose the cook of the straw hats crew.

“listen, that man keeps telling my ear off how incorrect the amount of money i had on hand,” you show the same count of berries in your grasp, the amount of money that nami had given you beforehand. “the geezer denies every time i tried to correct him that what i had was the right amount according to nami and i—heck, i even counted it in front of his two eyes but he wouldn't fucking listen to a thing i said—” you snapped your head to his direction, glaring at the owner mercilessly. “it's like you were born to have ears never meant to be used for.”

“what?!”

speak of the devil, nami herself was also there miraculously. you greeted her with a lazy wave of your hand as you watched nami storm off herself on confronting the shopkeeper soon as you let her have the cash you previously had in your grasp—the young, ginger-haired woman was practically breathing flames on the tip of her tongue with teeth akin to of a shark. it was sort of funny but satisfying to see the look on the old guy's face.

as you were lead away with nico robin, least to say that all of you relatively got what you needed on the thousand sunny for a few weeks sailing on the vast, deep blue sea—awaiting the upcoming adventures you may come across.

© thedemises 2024. all rights reserved.  ━━  slightly inspired by that one scene of chapter 32 in the bungō stray dogs manga.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

<3

[xthexkillingxgroundsx]

@fearxtoxfreedom

This was stupid. So very stupid. Or at least, irresponsible. But irresponsible and stupid both lay on the same very blurry line for one Vicki Donovan. She had, unlike her dear brother, become everything they had both hated growing up: THEIR MOM. And now here she was, wobbling on unsteady feet, with a swimming vision no longer able to keep up with the frantic turns of her pounding head. She let out a laugh as she stumbled, hand reaching out to brush at the gun holstered just to the right of Elle's ribs. Girl was lucky (or unlucky, perspective pending) that she hadn't accidentally grabbed a fistful of the officer's right tit. "Y'know, I always see ya carryin' dat around. Never see ya use it~..." What did that even mean? "Ya ever had ta?" Would be so hot... Intrusive thought better kept to her inside thoughts rather than her outside thoughts, though it might have been too late for that. "Wazzit like?" Yeah, she was FUCKED. UP. "Never had a gun. Never fired one. Matty never liked 'em. Not with mom around." Had one now, though. AFTER she'd been ran through with a knife.