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balioc · 6 months ago

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Looking at the world from a manager's perspective, you can productively model the pool of workers as being divided into a few basic groups, which are defined and characterized by their driving motivations.

Insert all the usual disclaimers for this sort of thing - this is the roughest type of rough typology. I pulled these categories out of my raw intuition, and possibly a few more would crop up with some additional thought. In reality, the boundaries of these categories are incredibly fuzzy, and almost every individual is actually going to be motivated by a complicated mix of all the relevant motivations; we're talking REALLY SIMPLE HEURISTICS here. Etc.

There have been other well-known worker typologies that share a lot in common with my thoughts here; this is mostly not novel, it's mostly meant to refine a few ideas for particular purposes.

Hustlers are motivated by concrete personal advantage. Most commonly, and most straightforwardly, they want money - as much of it as they can get. They may also be interested in fame, idiosyncratic perks, etc. They do whatever they have to do in order to get what they want.

No surprise: you see huge preponderances of these guys in fields that provide outsize concrete rewards, e.g. finance, the upper echelons of management, etc. But not every natural-born Hustler is in a position to enter a glitzy high-paying field, and in fact you find Hustlers all throughout society and all throughout the economy, finding or making hustles wherever they go.

Having Hustlers working for you is mostly pretty great. They get shit done. They can be induced to work incredibly hard - probably harder than anyone else, under most circumstances - and they'll shank their own mothers if the price is right. If you need anything really important from them, anything at all, it's just a matter of bribing them enough.

...they will also, of course, cheerfully shank you if the price is right. Hustlers aren't the only wellsprings of institutional politics and infighting, but they're the most dangerous ones; they're always potential rivals to everyone around them. Also, you need to keep the tangible rewards flowing in a steady stream in order to get anything out of them, or else they'll put most of their effort into jumping ship (one way or another).

Craftsmen are motivated by the desire to do good work in their chosen fields, for its own sake and for the sake of their treasured self-image as people who do good work.

As you'd expect, for the most part, they're excellent workers and should be prized. But they're not perfect workers. Common weaknesses and downsides include:

They tend to have their own ideas about How Things Should Get Done; they're often resistant to externally-imposed product/service requirements or process changes (and bad at implementing those things) (no matter how important or well-conceived they are), and they're very resistant to "just get it out the door, right now done is better than good."

Being driven chiefly by internal motivation is great, but sometimes it's useful to be able to push things along with external motivators, and Craftsmen are pretty resistant to those. They don't like working more or harder than they're naturally inclined to work, they mostly sneer at carrots, and sticks make them sad and unproductive.

It's important to note that, while noteworthy skill within a field correlates with having a Craftsman temperament and motivation suite - for obvious reasons - those things are not identical at all. Plenty of Craftsmen are bad at their jobs, or just average, and plenty of the best workers are most motivated by things other than the Excellence of the Work Itself.

Fanatics are a relatively rare and specialized group, whom you find mostly within a few specific sorts of culturally-valorized fields. They're motivated by a desire to be part of something Important and Good in a Broader Sense: to Save the World, or some smaller-bore version of that.

They make amazing front-line soldiers, in the sorts of institutions that have "front-line soldiers." They work super hard, and you don't even need to bribe them, you just need to keep them hopped up on inspiration.

The big problem with them is that they're mostly motivated by a feeling - the feeling of Being Righteous - and it's not easy to control where they get that feeling, in any kind of precise way. They're just as resistant to external motivators as Craftsmen are, or even more so, but they're also not being guided by an ideal of effective quality. (No, not even if their chosen cause is theoretically all about an ideal of effective quality, hem hem.) They will happily waste vast amounts of time and money doing useless things, or even counterproductive things, so long as they're engaged in tasks that hit the right psychological buttons for them. There's also a constant risk that a Fanatic will decide that his employer is unrighteous, or that one of his coworkers is unrighteous, and start an internal conflict; the risk scales in a more-than-linear fashion with the number of Fanatics you keep around.

The biggest group, unsurprisingly, is the Normies. In most fields, it is much the biggest group. Normies are motivated by the desire to be members in good standing of their communities, to have positive relationships with the people around them, and to live up to basic norms and expectations.

Managerial skills, in the traditional sense, are incredibly important with Normies. If you want them to do good work for you - and you should want that, as a manager, you've almost certainly got a whole bunch of them - not only do you have to keep them pointed in the right direction, you have to make sure that they're supporting each other. With Hustlers, you just have to throw money at them (and avoid their power plays); with Craftsmen, you just have to let them do their thing, and occasionally badger them into giving you what you need; with Fanatics, you just have to be inspirational; but with Normies, you have to lead, and construct a productive community. You have to set reasonable, achievable norms and expectations that will get you what you need.

This wouldn't be complete if I didn't talk about the Defectors. The Defectors are motivated by not working. They don't want to be there, they resent having to do their jobs, and their primary goal is to shirk as much as possible. They will, by default, put much more effort into shirking than into their assigned tasks.

Obviously, managers don't want to have to deal with them, for good reason. But they're out there, in large numbers - not always in the places and fields where you'd expect to find them - and learning to manage them is sometimes more viable than trying to get rid of them. ("Moving Heaven and Earth to find them jobs that will change their attitude" is often a good plan, although of course it's not always possible and not always worth it.)

Crucially, Defectors are not Normies. If you start with the assumption that the average baseline worker is lazy and sour, you will make some incredibly stupid decisions. There are some fields where, for structural reasons, you can expect that a very large number of your workers will be Defectors; this is a huge and complicated challenge, well beyond the scope of this post, and good luck to you if you have to handle it, but it's not the default.

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Once you have those categories in your head, and can play with them, a number of obvious-seeming ideas present themselves. Just a couple, for now:

Most high-level executives are Hustlers, or have strong Hustler tendencies, for obvious reasons. Most of the people around them are Hustlers, or have strong Hustler tendencies. This means that they tend to overweight the Hustler outlook, by a lot, when they try to model what their workers are like. More specifically, I'd wager that a lot of them intuitively divide the world into "good workers" ( = Hustlers) and "bad workers" ( = Defectors). This will lead to a heavy overreliance on tangible rewards, a systematic shortchanging of community-building, etc. Which is in fact just what we see.

In particular - crucially - Hustlers and Defectors are the only worker types who ever become more productive under heavy stress. Hustlers actually benefit from it, because it raises the stakes of the game that they're already playing. (If you succeed, you'll be king of the world! If you fail, you'll be shark food! Go go go!) Defectors suffer terribly from stress, of course, but they can sometimes be spooked into doing their jobs as opposed to doing nothing, and sometimes that's the best/easiest way to get something out of them. But stress is terrible for everyone else. Craftsmen lose their focus. Fanatics lose their hope. It's worst of all for Normies, because they take all their cues from the vibes around them; they're productive when they learn to associate work with comfort and happiness, and when you fill their working world with frantic desperation, you just put them in a permanent cringe state.

stop trying to pit your Normies against each other in competitions for status and rewards dear God what are you stupid

To some extent, you can control your institution by controlling what types of workers you have. But only to some extent. There are only so many Hustlers and Craftsmen to go around, and if you want them, you will have to (a) be able to identify them reliably on little information [HINT: you are probably very bad at this], and (b) provide them with what they want [tangible rewards / comfortable security and interesting work]. "We are going to employ only the good special people" is feasible if you're an outfit of four workers; at a dozen, it's already become a stretch; at a few hundred, uh, pfffffffft. If you want to operate at scale, you need to be able to make Normies do good work, there is no substitute for it.

#management #social engineering

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spidermanifested · 5 months ago

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another black sails fantheory ive seen around a lot is that silver is jewish, usually specifically sephardic, but despite its prevalence i havent been able to find anybodys actual thesis statements about it. so if there are Essays out there (especially by somebody with more historical-slash-judaism knowledge than i with my meager wiki-crawls) i would love Links

however once again ive pondered a bunch of the stuff ive noticed personally, about mr john "if thats even your real name" silver. and honestly at this point id be kind of surprised if it Wasnt the actual context the writers shaped his character around. everything just seems to come together really neatly

hes impressively literate for his circumstances/time period, and really good at quickly memorizing large amounts of text. a solid religious education could very well explain this

specifically– and this is one of the things that feels like a huge bit of intentional subtext to me– the scene where hes hiding with the lepers and memorizing the urca schedule REALLY seems to evoke someone reading scripture under a prayer shawl

not only does he not know how to cook pork, but does not even seem to know what pork looks like when finished cooking

the pretext flint used to get his crew to hunt down the hamiltons' ship was that it was carrying sephardic riches. this is a completely throwaway detail we learn secondhand, in a story where there are very, very few completely throwaway details

silver speaks at least some spanish. this comes up Once and goes totally unquestioned by everyone around him, likely because they think he just picked it up as a sailor. he almost certainly has not been at sea long enough for this to be the case. speaking ladino as a first language on the other hand would give him a huge leg up (so to speak.) in that department

further point. around the time period of the show, the biggest sephardic community in the world lived in thessaloniki in modern-day greece. it was:

a) one of the most major seaports in the ottoman empire

b) a famous center for learning, which boasted 100% literacy of its jewish population

and c) despite its long and prosperous history under ottoman rule, beginning to decline along with the rest of the empire, for many interconnected reasons, including but not limited to: Problems With the Governments Handling of the Textile Industry (where have we heard that before)

lotta unrest. religious schisms and doomsday prophecies. reactionary groups of overempowered soldiers attacking civilians for stress relief (again. where have we heard that before). people, unsurprisingly, started leaving

so if you did want, against john silvers express wishes. to theorize a backstory for a surprisingly educated stowaway of Mystery Origin, who has Mystery Trauma and doesnt want anybody to know who he is or where he comes from, and which would give a new level of relevance to all the greek stuff that permeates the show (down to the actual name of the thing!), along with containing parallels to several other backstories and events in the show proper,

Well this one make sense i think 👍

#black sails #manifesting spiders #john silver

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regainingparadise · 9 months ago

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Relistening to TMA Season 5, I am again struck by how goddam badly Martin and Jon need couples counseling.

I love them both. I ship them very much. But oh lord they have issues

Like, these are two individuals who, under the very best of circumstances, would really need therapy both individually and together. They are both people with plentiful quantities of relational trauma from childhood that neither of them have worked through even the slightest bit.

And then you throw them into the apocalypse. And you add a metric fuck ton of guilt, helplessness, and the dynamics of being "The Antichrist and +1"?

On a surface level--Jon is in a perpetual state of information overload. Martin is in a perpetual state of "can you please just explain the basics of what's' going on in a given situation and not just say "it's complicated" or launch into a gruesome monologue"

But on a deeper level, their childhood relational traumas have left them each with opposing avoidant tendencies: Jon is unwilling to broach a difficult conversation, which leads him to hide information until he's confronted. Martin, on the other hand, has a finely honed ability to ignore information that he doesn't like until he no longer can hide from it.

Biggest example of their avoidance tendencies: Martin's Domain

Way early on, when we barely understand any of how the hellscape works, Jon mentions it, Martin shuts it down hard and deflects quickly with a bid for affection from Jon

Martin is in deliberate denial, but Jon admittedly wasn't particularly clear to start with.

"We all have a domain."

Jon means it, presumably, as "Me, You, and other 'Avatars.'" Jon is used to being grouped with those empowered by the Entities. Martin isn't. (see also: MAG185: Martin" Is that how these creatures see us now? As one of them?") But that's not what Jon says. And this is MAG167--they've only been through four domains, at least that we've seen. Jon is speaking from a place of knowledge, and assuming his listener has that same knowledge.

And when this issue comes up much later in MAG183, Martin has spent 17 episodes ignoring or forgetting that he has a domain, not letting that information in so that he has never processed it. (See also: Mag170: "Sometimes I wonder if I forget things on purpose. Easier not to think about them, I guess. Easier to just let them… slip away. They can’t hurt you if you don’t think about them.").

Martin confronts Jon on his avoidance (because while Martin may be good at ignoring things he doesn't like, he's far better at bringing up challenging topics), Jon is able to manage some A+ communication on his feelings and the genuine challenging of figuring out how to share upsetting information when he has All The Information, Martin accepts that. I just desperately want a therapist to be there and make them continue this conversation and practice ongoing good communication skills!

Though they resolve this, even though Jon has an explanation that makes sense...he was really leaving this conversation to the last minute. Would he have "[brought] it up at the crossroads" as he claims to Helen? Or would he have avoided it entirely, as she accuses, or waited till they were at the threshold, as he does with The Desolation and the Hunt, leaving Martin to confront terrifying situations without forewarning or planning or explanation.

Again, Jon kind of tried to bring up some of the potential issues with Basira and Daisy before entering the Hunt domain, but kept it Vague and Ominous ("Things aren't...good"). Martin took that vagueness as an opening to avoid engaging with potential bad news. The teensiest bit of therapy for either of them about their communication issues could have let Jon add "I know you're exited but FYI here are some specifics that you should know" and/or Martin go "I'm excited to see them but given that nothing is good right now, can you be more specific?"

Instead, Jon approaches difficult conversations by being Vague and Ominous, Martin gets snarky or passive-aggressive at the vagueness, upset or aggressively avoidant at the Ominousness, Jon closes back up like a turtle into his shell, and the conversation only comes back up when the situation has drastically escalated, leaving them both more upset.

Jon wants Martin to trust him, because explaining what he knows implicitly is an ordeal for him, and because his upbringing by his grandmother has suggested that communicating is generally unwanted and burdensome (See: MAG081 A Guest for Mr. Spider).

Martin wants to know what is going on, because he's in an awful hellscape of shifting rules about what can and cannot hurt them, completely dependent on a brand-new romantic partner for his survival and purpose, and also because his upbringing and coping mechanisms as a caretaker rely on him knowing enough to help, and his time as an archival assistant has given him some not-inconsiderable trauma about being left in the dark (See: MAG118 The Masquerade) (There's also another post in my head about how MAG118 primed Martin for both the Lonely and his development as a more confrontational character in S5)

All that to say.

Martin needs therapy to deal with the way he chooses not to absorb information he doesn't like. Jon needs therapy to understand that sometimes it's ok to bring up important topics even if the other person will be upset. They both need therapy to cope with all the guilt and helplessness around the apocalypse so they stop taking it out on each other. They need therapy together to learn how to work through their conflicting coping mechanisms.

#Look I love them #But they need so much therapy #Even in the most no powers fluffy AU fanfic #They really would need therapy #Jmart #teaholding #Jon Sims #Jonathan Sims #Martin Blackwood #Martin K Blackwood #the magnus archives #tma podcast #tma #tma meta #tma spoilers #making my english professor proud #Marfisa Thinks Things

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brigdh · 2 years ago

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I want to talk about Izzy's rant to Ed in episode 10, the one that brings out the Kraken. I've seen a lot of different descriptions of what is going on in this scene – death threat, homophobic slurs, etc – and I don't think either of those are what's actually what's happening.

Let's look at it closely, line by line, and the way Ed reacts, from the very beginning of the scene.

Ed: Well, feels nice to tidy up a little. Can't believe I was living like this. Can you, Iz? Izzy? Izzy: I'm going to speak plainly. Ed: Wonderful. You know we share our thoughts on this ship.

Izzy, cont: This, whatever it is that you've become... is a fate worse than death.

Okay. So there we've got what some have interpreted as a death threat. But does Ed seem threatened? He's startled, certainly, put on his back foot – literally – but he doesn't look afraid or alarmed to me. He draws in a slow breath, assessing the situation, but overall seems more confused than frightened.

In fact he laughs it off with his next line:

Izzy then escalates the level of aggression in the conversation:

But Ed, again, looks more confused than anything. Check out that furrowed brow, that head tilt! This is a man going "what is your deal?", not a man thinking "uh-oh, you might kill me!".

Extremely noticeably, even when Izzy storms right up into his face, Ed holds steady. He doesn't run, doesn't lean back, doesn't hunch his shoulders or drop eye contact – there is no vulnerability or defensiveness in Ed's body language at all. Ed is in supreme control of this confrontation – look at the slow way he deigns to turn back to the paper Izzy's holding! As though he's making the point that he chooses when to turn, not Izzy:

Then we have the "homophobic slur". But watch closely:

Ed does not react to "namby-pamby", "silk gown", or "pining" at all. He doesn't even blink. He barely seems like he's hearing Izzy. His entire attention is on the picture.

Ed's body language and behavior changes at one word and one word only, and that is "boyfriend". As soon as Izzy says it, Ed's furious:

(It's even easier to notice when you actually watch the scene instead of using gifs, because Izzy really draws out 'piiiiiiining', putting a lot of time between the first half of the sentence and 'boyfriend'.)

Why is the use of the word 'boyfriend' so important?

Well, what has Ed been doing all episode? He's been crying in a blanket fort and singing sad songs, yes, but he's been keeping a careful level of mystique about why he's doing it. Ed often uses distanced circumlocutions instead of directly acknowledging his emotions, but he's doing it in this episode even more so than usual:

Here are the lyrics to his song:

(Version one, with Lucius) Hanging on By a thread Hanging on Shouldn't let go If I let go, all will fall Fingers bleeding down to the bone now Can't let go Nothing makes sense Hold on Hold on Hold... on

(Version two, performed for the whole crew) Just let go Make yourself let go Make it go away Away, away today Life's a hard sad death And then you're Deaaad

Notice something? There is no mention of Stede, or love, or break-ups, or abandonments, or relationships in general. All Ed discusses is a vague life-sucks attitude, which could apply to basically anyone under any circumstances. He seems pretty okay with people knowing that Blackbeard is having some sort of weird emotional breakdown as long as he convinces himself that no one knows it's specifically from having his heart broken

This is true of everything Ed says and does for this entire episode. He never once even mentions Stede's name, unless "Farewell, Bonnet's playthings" at the very end counts. The only thing Ed openly admits to feeling bad about is a fictional character who's having a hard time "holding on" (holding on to what? he never says). There are no allusions to heartbreak or romance anywhere in his dialogue.

Now, Ed's not stupid. I'm sure he knows Izzy and Lucius and the rest of the crew can connect the dots and realize that something bad happened with Stede, even if Ed doesn't fill them in on the details. But Ed is also traumatized, and has a whole host of coping mechanisms set up to help him avoiding thinking about things that he doesn't want to think about. If he's not a murderer because "technically the fire killed those guys", then no one knows he's heartbroken because technically he hasn't acknowledged it.

Until Izzy says the word 'boyfriend'. Suddenly the secret is out, and Ed can't handle it. Izzy knows his weakness. That's why this word effects Ed more than anything else Izzy says in the whole scene.

At the end of the confrontation, he hears the crew calling for another song. Look at Ed here. He looks as haunted, as disturbed, in this moment as he does at any point in Izzy's rant.

This is an important part of the scene, not just a closing note. Because if Izzy (the Caribbean's most emotionally constipated man) can see through him, obviously the whole crew can too.

Obviously Lucius – who advised Ed on his and Stede's relationship, who played along with Ed's 'fictional character' claim, who wrote down Ed's lyrics – can do so most of all.

There's a direct emotional logic to Ed killing Lucius because he had a fight with Izzy, and it doesn't involve Ed having been threatened or hate crime'd at all. Ed doesn't deal well with his own feelings (from Stede), so he chooses to become Blackbeard/the Kraken and gets rid of all the witnesses who saw otherwise.

#meta #our flag means death #I've been thinking about writing this up for a while but finally got motivated to finish it before S2

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a-little-ray-of-fantasy · 1 year ago

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CherriSnake, as a couple, most likely wasn't in the plans, if you only saw the pilot, but honestly, I personally really enjoyed their dynamic in the show, regardless.

There's a reason why people shipped Cherri Bomb and Sir Pentious all these years: rivals to lovers is always a win. Plus, the confident, spunky powerhouse and the battle oriented, dorky edgelord? It really made sense!

So let's talk about them in the series proper!

Cherri Bomb was never against the idea of dating Sir Pentious. Maybe unimpressed by his awkward attempts, but never really rebuffed them.

If anything she kinda pokes fun at him for trying so hard with her: you say you're my arch nemesis, but then you try to flirt with me?

What, YOU want to make sex with me? Care to explain why?

They've been rivals for years by now, Cherri KNOWS Pentious tends to put up a front to impress, and most likely would've given him a chance if he had the confidence to be true about his intentions.

Sadly, this is Sir Pentious we're talking about: a very insecure man who struggles with socializing and pleasing others. So he blunders his own attempts at flirting to avoid being rejected by buying everyone drinks or wanting to have sex with everyone.

Speaking of that, Sir Pentious, of all people, wanting to have sex? It's really not him, it's not something he'd do under normal circumstances, but he's drunk, all his previous attempts have failed, so he might as well be bold. But even then you can tell by the way he says "Do a sex with me." that he has NO idea what he's talking about.

And she's quick to call him out. Again, not with annoyance but with humor.

Sir Pentious was completely out of his element here, and, being the insecure man he is, instead of going with his strengths (which we're going to talk about in a minute), he went for what HE believed Cherri wanted, and he payed the price: she wasn't impressed, he lost his chance.

Also, I totally believe that the reason behind his struggles to come to terms with his crush is also linked to the fact that... he's a man of science, war and machines! He just can't get a crush, it doesn't work like that! So of course he'd try to mask it!

Of course he engages with Cherri Bomb: she's his arch nemesis! Nothing more! He would never buy drinks for her specifically! ...except nobody will ever buy his lie, and he wouldn't notice how obvious he is.

Next time, we see Pentious trying, and fail once again, to confess to Cherri, but something has changed. He talked to Charlie about it. And while we don't see WHAT they've said to each other, we know for a fact that Charlie totally encouraged him to be himself and confess his feelings.

Heck, if you watch closely, Vaggie even puts a hand on Pentious' own as if to wish him good luck! She's really come to trust him, aw!

And this time, while Sir Pentious still is too nervous to fully confess his feelings, he still goes about it by actually sticking to his strengths, the reason why he fell for Cherri in the first place.

Sir Pentious is an inventor, a warrior, he works with machines. He has engaged in turf wars against Cherri for years and by now he knows her: she's destructive, unpredictable, and unstoppable. She most likely often beat him too, but both gave their all in the battle. And Sir Pentious definitely was impressed by that.

He's not blind, of course he finds Cherri pretty (and let's face it, she is!). But that's the reason he fell for her, something on his league he could recognize and actively engage in: her prowess in battle, her creativity with her explosives, and her determination. And he fully told her that, with clear admiration in his voice.

And this time, Cherri, while still a bit confused on how he's still being awkward about it, this time shows a positive response: she thanks him, she smiles, she genuinely appreciates his compliments.

Reminder that Cherri is much more upfront about, uhm, going out with people. She has slept around, did quick things, and if lore is still the same for her, her love life wasn't a happy one. She's used to have people wanting her for her body, or having surface level attraction to her.

But this is her long time rival, the one man she often faced in turf wars, the edgelord who always put up a front of a grandiose villain when he really was an awkward nerd from the Victorian times that was easy to rattle. And maybe she didn't develop feelings for him the same way he did for her, but it's clear she never held animosity against him. She does care for this lovable loser, deep down, so his compliments are genuinely appreciated.

So when the battle begins, and Adam has started showing the big guns, Sir Pentious gives a quick glance at his blimp, knowing what has to be done, and with the feeling there's a high chance he won't make it.

And so he does the one thing he's always been afraid to do. It's now or never: if he has to go down, he shall do it with no regrets. To heck with fears and insecurities: he loves Cherri, and this time he will show it the way he knows how.

An awkward but completely sweet kiss in the middle of the battle, as her bomb goes off in the background. A gesture that REALLY represents their bond.

Sadly it's short lived. Sir Pentious finally declares his love and runs away to save the day, but still emotional about what happened: the only request he has for her before the deed is simply to remember him.

And I'm positive Cherri will definitely remember this. Him, the kiss, the battle. Everything.

#Vivziepop #Hazbin Hotel #Cherri Bomb #Sir Pentious #Fave Character #Comfort Character #CherriSnake #My OTP #Personal Rambles #Character Analysis #Analysis

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magicalbats · 1 month ago

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Kinktober 2024 Day 27: Gallagher x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5649

Warnings: Afab!reader, exhibitionism, public sex, lots of references to bondage, BDSM, master/slave, etc, NOT gender neutral

A/N: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely sure if this would be considered canon compliant so ... think of it like a very slight au where everything is pretty much exactly the same but this all somehow makes sense. lol Also if anyone wants to look at it, I used this as a base reference point for readers bodysuit.

⭐

Being what he is, a living ghost of the Dreamscape, it’s easy for Gallagher to slip in and out of places where he probably ought not be. A smarter man would have had the sense to stay anchored in the reef where it was quiet and relatively safe but, well. He’d never claimed to be a smart person.

It was the Planet of Festivities, after all. There was always something new to see, different people to chat up and an ever evolving assortment of attractions to visit as the dreamweavers worked and toiled endlessly to keep the crowds coming back for more. By his estimation it would have been a damn shame to miss any of it while he was still kicking and around to see it.

On this particular day he finds himself in the mood for some more adult type entertainment. The theme park and the shopping mall were both equally fun to explore, sure, but there came a point where the excited trills of children simply got to be too much. He was particularly fond of the Dreamjolt Hostelry for that reason and, by extension, bars as a whole. Nothing quite compared to a strong, stiff drink, a nice atmosphere and maybe even a jazz band crooning moody blues in a secluded corner of the joint. If he was feeling a certain kind of way, of course.

He quickly decides he is in that frame of mind and makes his way over to the Blue Hour where he’s able to waltz right in, completely unnoticed, amidst the usual foot traffic. Under normal circumstances no one really stops long enough to notice a specter coming or going, unless of course they were specifically seeking someone out in the throng and just happened to set their sights on him. But even then his was the kind of face people typically forgot as soon as they looked away, by design rather than nature, and that leaves him free to explore the area at his own pace, free of any worries.

The Sea of Dreams and its docked ship, the Eventide, are by far the most popular tourist destinations in this section of the Dreamscape. No surprise there, considering the parties, weddings and all the romantically geared spots along the shoreline. Uninterested in such things, however; Gallagher makes a point to stick clear of it, much preferring the quieter pathways that wind as if through an old city center from the bygone 20th century. It’s not nearly as bright and flashy as most of the other “Moments”, clearly tailored to a specific kind of audience, and he soon finds himself ducking into a quaint little hole in the wall he doesn’t catch the name of for a fresh change of scenery.

As expected, the interior of the bar is nice to look at and well furnished but just like everything else in the Blue Hour it’s intentionally dark and muted in color. Lots of rich, deep blues mixed with black to make the two nearly indistinguishable from one another, with only an occasional pop of emerald green to break up the monotony here or there.

Looking through the smoke heavy gloom for a seat, Gallagher spots a humble little stage on the other side of the room. There is indeed a band playing off to the side, each one looking like they just stepped off the set for the next big mobster film, and he quickly starts to get an idea of what kind of establishment this was. Sure, it was a common enough theme in this specific part of the Dreamscape but between the vaguely raunchy tune they’re playing and some of the decorations in the bar …

His curiosity peaked, the old hound makes his way over to claim a table for himself near the corner of the stage. A passing waiter spots him on their way by, stops to take his drink order and then promptly leaves, bustling off into the relative darkness.

Settling in to enjoy what he hoped was a good show, Gallagher takes a moment to glance around the cramped room. There are a few other patrons besides him dotted around the small tables but the lights were too low to clearly make out any of their features or even what they’re wearing. Good. That suited his purposes just fine.

The waiter soon returns with his requested drink just as the band starts to swing into a celebratory cantor, gesturing for them to put it on a tab. Nodding their understanding, the waiter hurries off to the next task. Reaching out to take up his drink in hand, he gives the potent mixture an experimental sip, satisfied to find it burns on the way down.

Well, he thinks rather sardonically to himself. This should at least be a good way to kill some time.

And kill time he does, as an endless parade of dancers soon proceeds to appear on the stage. His suspicions are confirmed almost immediately when the first talented young woman makes her debut under the hazy blue spotlight in a corset top so tight it forces her tits up until they look liable to pop. This was a burlesque club. Not something he usually had much interest in, having lived long enough to have already seen it all, but that didn’t mean the show was without its merits. He could allow himself to get lost in the illusion of it for just one day, at least.

And the girls are beautiful, as to be expected of a tavern like this, each of them with a number of uniquely choreographed routines that encourage audience participation as much as it titillates them. Some of them seem to prefer playing up the coy nature of a strip tease that keeps onlookers watching from a distance, able to look but not touch, while a select few of the performers went for a bolder approach, inviting a hand selected participant onto the stage as part of the act. The live music swells and crests in time with the performances, highlighting the slow descent of skirts down stockinged legs and the exaggerated dances meant to entice, thrill and excite.

Over the next few hours Gallagher orders a few more drinks, smokes a slightly bent cigarette retrieved from his pocket to add his own contribution to the smokescreen hanging over the room, and he watches. He observes. Takes it all in from the standpoint of a distant spectator, simply enjoying the curated atmosphere of the bar for what it is even when he has fairly little interest in the sex appeal itself.

But then, in one of the brief downtimes between performer swaps, the band starts up a particularly seductive drawl that pulls his attention back up to the stage. This song is noticeably darker in sound than the rest, low and edged with harder notes to invoke a sense of anticipation deep in his gut. It almost gives him the impression of being hunted by something and that peaks his interest a great deal.

Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, Gallagher sticks his hand out to cradle the cool glass in front of him but refrains from picking it up. He just wants something to hold onto, busying his fingers with touching along the smoothly polished surface to stop himself from fidgeting while the full brunt of his attention remains fixed on the stage.

Finally, the curtain parts to reveal a leg, impishly poised as if it were wrapped around someone in the throes of passion. The stockings are almost sheer and he slowly follows the line of material straight down to a black high heel that looks dangerous even from here. He can’t help lifting a brow at that, wondering if this was going to be some sort of femme fatale angle. There had been a few other girls before now who went with a similar theme but they’d mostly taken a more playful approach to it whereas this …

This feels more like a threat.

The music gradually swings upward one discordant note at a time and more of the person behind the curtain starts to appear. A curvy hip hugged in leather, a bodysuit by the looks of it. Then a tightly cinched waist made to look dainty and delicate by the corset hugged around it. A pair of juicy tits appears next, salaciously thrust out from behind the stage to give the audience a good look at the whole body, save for the head which remains hidden even while the rest of the performer falls into a sensual, swaying dance. It does not escape his notice that the costume is adorned with a variety of silver hooks and dangling chains, a dungeon daydream come to life.

He wonders, though, if this girl fancied herself as the master or the slave.

With a sudden flourish that sends the curtain flying back, you finally step the rest of the way out onto the stage. The band hits its stride right on cue, flying off into a rather raucous beat that perfectly matches the mischievous look on your face. Calling you pretty would have been an understatement. You had the face of someone who could bring men crashing to their knees as much as you might bring them a little piece of heaven in your willing submission. Gallagher couldn’t have explained it even if he’d tried, but something gave him the impression that you were someone who could swing both extremes.

Maybe it’s in the way you mischievously traipse across the stage, confident and demanding of your audience's attention, and not at all unlike the kind of brat he’s encountered a time or two in his long lifetime. But beyond the bravado, despite it and in spite of it, he sees a challenge. A glimmer in your eyes that seems to him to say ‘make me, if you dare’.

He shifts in his seat, undeniably drawn to test that resolve of yours now that he’s laid eyes on something actually interesting. The other girls were lovely to look at, yes, and fun in personality but this — but you were another beast entirely. Something he could really sink his teeth into if given half the chance.

A dominatrix and a pleasure slave all wrapped up into one, he attentively watches you flick the leather riding crop in your black gloved hand just like a conductor might wield his baton, expertly guiding the transfixed crowd to look where you want them to. The flat striking end touches your stomach just over the tight corset and slowly trails down to dip between your thighs. Making a salacious face, you touch yourself with it for a brief moment before dragging it back up to tease over the front of your breasts, as if stimulating the nipples hidden within. Then, with a pointed, sultry smile, you turn in place and bend forward to give the crowd a good look at your ass.

The bodysuit is so skimpy and form fitted that it leaves very little to the imagination, the meat of your cheeks on full display while the thin strip that runs between your legs just barely manages to conceal the slit underneath. Looking as hard as he is, Gallagher thinks he can even make out the shape of your labia through the thin material, making his own pants start to feel constrictively tight.

Far be it that he was an easily excitable, eager young pup that jumped at the first sight of a bone but some part of him very much wanted to try his hand at leashing you. This impulse is not at all helped by the leather collar sitting snug around your neck, the attached hook on the front regrettably unused. He could remedy that though. In fact, there were a great many things he could do with you if only he were not the mere memory of a ghost haunting the living.

Although that hadn’t stopped him before and he’d occasionally given into temptation in the long distant past, he’d ultimately decided that it was not really his place to become involved with people like that. It wasn’t fair to them or even himself once you got right down to it. And yet looking at you up there on the stage, jazz band screaming your praises for all to hear while you make a show of touching yourself for a bunch of strangers, he feels very tempted to make an exception.

His breaking moment finally comes when, after taunting the crowd with a slow lick along the length of your crop, playful and provocative, you cast your gaze out over the assembled faces. Likely gauging their reactions or maybe even picking out a willing sacrifice to come kneel for you. But when your eyes fall on him they do not immediately flick away to the next, nor do you appear to see right through him like most do. Instead your attention lingers, assesses, and files whatever you see in him away for later.

His self control snaps and Gallagher impulsively stands up with a quiet scrape of his chair on the hardwood floor. Visibly hesitating, you lift a questioning brow at him and he responds with a long suffering grimace, lifting his half empty glass from the table to hold it out to you as if in a toast. You seem to understand the gesture for what it is and, mouth curling in a sly smile, you waggle your finger at him in invitation.

A hushed, quiet murmur rises from the audience as he strides over to the stage where he proceeds to step up onto its elevated height with a small hop. He isn’t quite sure why he’s doing it but, given some of the whispers he can just make out, he was far from the only one who’d wanted to get up here with you. If he hadn’t taken the opportunity someone else gladly would have, and then he would have had to watch another man trip over himself to prostrate at your feet. Couldn’t have that, now could he?

And as he comes to tower over you, still clutching the glass around the rim down at his side, you tip your head back to meet his stare head on. Utterly unafraid and unconcerned by the height difference. It looked like his intuition was right. You really were a little spitfire that would have benefitted well from a firm hand.

“On your knees, dog.”

Gallagher smiles at that, knowing that the command would have been the same regardless of who was stood before you like this but the accuracy in it strikes him as ironic. Oh, if only you knew the half of it.

“How about I give you the chance to make me,” he intones, keeping his free hand stuffed inside his pants pocket to ensure he doesn’t give in to the urge to reach out and touch you. Not yet. “And if you can’t then I get to make you kneel instead. That sounds like a fair deal, doesn’t it?”

You lift your chin in haughty defiance at that, yet the unmistakable sparkle in your eyes belies your true feelings on the matter. “You dare to challenge me in my own domain, filthy cur? I ought to have you strapped down and whipped for the insolence.”

“Hah. I’d like to see you try.”

Your pupils flare wide in response, stiffening slightly under the misty blue spotlight. But evidently you’re a real professional or, at the very least, still hyper aware of the crowd watching on in rapt fascination, because you extend your voice to reach everyone when you next reply rather than speaking only to him, keeping up the lofty pretense.

“Oh, you poor, poor man. You have no idea the sort of danger you’re flirting with. If I had my way I’d strip you nude and hang you upside down from the rafters for the sound beating you so sorely deserve. Unfortunately the bar doesn’t come equipped with that sort of heavy machinery.”

The audience laughs at that, delighted by the sharp barb and your quick wit. He isn’t particularly bothered by it though and, as casual as can be, Gallagher lifts his drink to take a long, savory swig and finish off the rest while he waits for the jeering to subside.

Once things start to quiet again, he sends you a pointed look from under the tousled fringe of his mussy hair. “Is that all then? Don’t tell me you’re all bark and no bite. If you don’t do something soon I’ll start to think you’re scared and just stalling the inevitable.”

“Such confidence.” You croon, giving your open palm a sharp smack with the riding crop for emphasis. “If you’re so sure of yourself then why don’t we just skip the formalities altogether and give you your chance? But be warned, if you fail to impress me your punishment will be even more severe. Do you still want to take that gamble?”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d ask.”

Stooping, Gallagher gently places the now empty glass on the stage before straightening up again and taking an unhurried step forward, tugging his gloves off as he goes. Keeping up the illusion of being unimpressed, you cock your hip out to the side and stand in place even when he gets close to circle back behind you. His hand comes up then, sedately reaching around to the front of your body where he rather audaciously splays his fingers out over your womb. Pausing there for a brief moment, he teases his thumb upward to feel along the bony ridge of your waist cinching corset while his pinky finger …

The tremor that works through you is so faint and nearly imperceptible that he would have missed it entirely if he hadn’t been touching you when it happened. You’re good at hiding it though, the audience likely not suspecting a thing, and that pleases him a great deal. It also soundly confirmed his suspicions of the kind of person you were underneath all the leather and the chains, and it spoke volumes to your sensitivity.

Slowly dragging his hand over your stomach, your hip, straight to the small of your back, Gallagher takes his time feeling up the length of your spine while his other set of digits come up to gently touch your arm. Tracing them down to your closed fist, he makes careful work of prying your fingers open so he can take the crop from you. The audience titters at something you must have done, a face you pulled in response, but he doesn’t take any offense. You were free to make all the faces you wanted.

Finally reaching the collar secured around your throat, he gently slips his palm forward to cup under your chin and force your head back with a little nudge. The motion leaves a thin line of your neck vulnerable and exposed, and this is where he ultimately clamps his hand, trapping you there in his shackling grip. As if sensing the change in his body language, or perhaps compelled to do it under the commanding pressure of his hold, you subtly straighten your posture to stand perfectly at attention now, forced to continue facing out at the audience.

Satisfaction searing his veins, Gallagher lifts the crop to hold it expectantly in front of your mouth. “Open up for me, pretty girl. Nice and wide.”

Unable to see your expression like this, he has to gauge your reaction by the tension in your throat which stiffly bobs under his hand with the quick swallow you pull in. Then, ever so sweetly, the muscles shift and tense against his fingertips, signaling that you were being nice and obedient for him now that he had the reins. Yeah, that’s exactly what he’d thought.

“Be good and hold this for me.” He murmurs, guiding the crop into place between your teeth, ensuring it was far back enough to work as a semi effective gag for as long as you were willing to play. “Make sure you don’t drop it. Just because there’s a room full of strangers watching us that doesn’t mean I won’t take you over my knee right here in front of everyone. I’ve given you your task. Think you can make me proud?”

Swaying ever so slightly on your toes, you noise a soft, huffy noise of agreement that sounds suspiciously like a moan to him. A certain part of his ego sorely wished he could see your face right now, if it was clouded over in eager anticipation or if you were still valiantly trying to fight it for the sake of your stage role. But judging by the leering stare of the near silent crowd, you must have been putting on quite a show for them.

Taking a moment to shift his weight from one foot to the other, Gallagher reaches down to collect both of your wrists so he can direct them up over your head. Charmingly pliant and malleable now, you don’t even try to fight it when he brings your hands together and juggles them both into a single fist so he can free up the other. The only indication you give him that this is having any real effect on you is the breathy little sigh you let slip when his blocky fingers trail down your front to cup one of your tits through your bodysuit.

Squeezing, kneading, pinching, he spends a drawn out beat simply taunting you with it before at last slipping his hand down the front of your top. He knows the exact moment his rough palm passes over the nipple inside because you give a sudden jolt and beautifully arch your back for him, pushing your chest further up into his touch. But as much as he’d like to draw this out for hours on end until he had you sobbing, begging for him to let you cum, he knew he needed to be quick about it. Not only would the audience start to grow as impatient as you if he spent too much time teasing but it was also a small miracle that the staff hadn’t intervened yet. There were brothels in the Blue Hour, yes, but he didn’t think this was one of them.

So he makes quick work of tugging your tits out and he’s not particularly gentle about it, which seems to excite you a great deal given the way you start to fidget. The tightness of the leather makes it difficult but at last he manages to get the meat of one breast pulled up over the top of the hemline, leaving the stiff, seeking nipple to cut through the air while he repeats the process on the other side. Soon enough he’s accomplished his goal and both of your juicy tits are bulging out from your top, pushed up and squished together by the constricting material.

The crowd audibly shifts before him, clearly aroused by the sight of your bare chest. Only then do you halfheartedly try to pull your arms down, whimpering softly around the crop clenched between your teeth as you futilely try to twist away. It’s no use though, his grip as good as iron. All you can do is stand there and take it, forced to expose yourself to a bunch of strangers, and the way you fiercely shudder seems to suggest that you didn’t entirely hate it.

Letting out a terse, anticipatory breath, Gallagher reaches up to take one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, worrying it for a brief moment. But when all you do is sigh another dreamy, far away sound he quickly increases the intensity, giving it a quick little twist to make it hurt. That quickly gets your attention and you rock back on your heels with a flustered, whining groan, pushing back on him with your ass as if in supplication. It was obvious enough what you wanted, yet he can’t quite stop himself from prolonging it just a bit, switching his hand over to the opposite side so he can give that nipple a good tug as well.

“Looks to me like Little Miss Attitude likes that. I’m almost disappointed after all that big talk you had earlier.” He murmurs just for you to hear, adjusting his hand to flick the tightly coiled bud back and forth to make you groan in increasing urgency. “I’m not a completely unsympathetic bastard though. If you want to cum for me in front of all these people like a good little girl, and I know you do, you’ll have to ask me nicely for it.”

Shuddering fiercely against him, you blurt out a muffled sound that could or could not be the word ‘please’, throaty and quiet. Unintelligible.

“What was that?” He projects his voice now, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “What are you saying, o powerful mistress? Say it again for your captivated audience. They’re waiting.”

Twisting again, you squirm on your feet as if to escape his clutches but all it succeeds in doing is making your exposed tits bounce and jiggle where they’re hanging out of your top. The fussy anger coming off of you is almost palpable, so real he could almost reach out and touch it, but evidently your cunt took precedence over your pride.

Because another half smothered plea soon comes out around the crop, echoing throughout the room, and this time it sounds suspiciously like ‘please make me cum!’ And who was he to deny such a sincere, heartfelt request?

“Good girl. You must be feeling quite desperate to give up the game this quickly. Let me guess … you’re getting off on having all these people watching me manhandle you, knowing they’re staring right at these gorgeous tits of yours like you’re nothing more than another attraction for them. Do you enjoy being on display like this? Hm?”

Gallagher gives your nipple one more pointed tug, stretching the sensitive skin slightly, and you respond beautifully, whimpering and fidgeting against him. The firm press of your ass against his cock is maddening but all he allows himself is a slow, deliberate grind into your backside, knowing he couldn’t pull it out here. He’d really get himself kicked out if he dared.

Because there existed an inherent difference between a man’s body and a woman’s. The audience clearly knows that well, all of their attention fixed solely on you as he slips his hand lower down your front, lower and lower, until his palm finally slides over your clothed cunt.

Cupping you firmly like that, he begins to massage his heel over the apex of your mound and you immediately rock forward on your toes, jutting your pelvis out to better feel the glide of him, the pressure. You seethe while you do it, sucking in quick, short bursts of air but he gives your captured wrists a gentle tug to ease you back down.

“Spread those pretty legs for me, sweetheart. I want to see your heels planted and kept wide open for me.”

You groan a delirious sound in response, quaking even as you slowly move to obey. Shuffling your feet apart, you take on a wide legged stance that he’s sure must give the audience a picture perfect view of his larger hand swallowing up your pussy. It feels tiny and delicate holding it in his palm like this, like something he could cherish or destroy depending on his mood.

Taking his chance to pull at the material of your bodysuit so that it’s nice and snug against your slit, Gallagher makes sure to give you a very prominent camel toe before covering you with his hand again. The effect on the audience is an obvious one, and from the corner of his eye he can just make out a few patrons reaching under their tables to squeeze and rub themselves. Not just other men as one might expect, and he really couldn’t blame them for that, but one or two of the women sitting in the crowd can’t seem to help themselves either. Obviously they were enjoying the show.

Which was good, as he really wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his own self control in check. Getting up on stage like this had likely been a huge mistake on his part but, sliding his hand over your cunt while you shudder and shake for him, he decides it was well worth it. He didn’t get to play very often, after all.

Behind your makeshift gag, you hiss and mewl your pleasure for all to hear, evidently too lost in the moment to care about having your domineering role usurped so thoroughly. You might be a bit miffed about it later, and rightfully so, but in there and now it seems to take all of your concentration just to keep drawing air into your lungs. Body shaking with each labored breath, you stiffly stand in front of him, arms up in the air, tits out for all to see while you get your pussy massaged so sweetly. And it’s clear to him that you’re loving it, if not evidenced by the way you seem to be quickly unraveling then certainly because of the sticky mess he can feel gradually bleeding through the crotch of your bodysuit.

Oh, how he wanted to rip the damn thing right off you and feast on the honeysuckle nectar between your legs until you were left babbling incoherently. If only, if only, if only.

“Shit,” he rumbles, dipping his face close to speak against your hair. “Such a beautiful thing. You ever ridden a Hound before?”

You give a faint jolt at that, understanding on some level what he’s really asking, but you’re a little too caught up in the swelling ecstasy pangs to respond with anything other than a wordless cry, wailing softly around the crop.

“Mmghn, good. I’ll give you an even better workout than this. Really make you prove yourself to me where I won’t have to hold back or be so damn polite about it. Enjoy this freebie while you can, missy, cus’ I won’t be so forthcoming the next time I’ve got my hands on you.”

Squawking a confused sound, you drunkenly away in his hold as if you were reaching your limit and couldn’t take much more. But, to your credit, you do indeed manage to keep your feet planted and in place instead of wildly thrashing against him to escape the full brunt of his attention. He thinks that’s probably earned you this reward more than anything else, and he takes a great deal of pleasure in adjusting his hand to hook his last two fingers in the fabric running between your legs.

Shoving it to the side fully exposes your bare cunt to the room, no doubt raw and flushed, gleaming faintly with the sheen of your arousal under the spotlight. You suck in such a sharp, haggard gasp it seems to rattle straight down to your bones, the startled sound quickly reflected in the audience when someone outright groans at the sight. You stay in that vulnerably spread position as if frozen to the spot though, unable to move even if you’d wanted to.

And whether it’s because you were already close or because having a room full of faceless strangers looking directly at your naked pussy excites you a great deal, he couldn’t say, but you cum almost as soon as Gallagher starts to rub his fingers over your clit. The orgasm is intense and powerful, making you shake so hard he’s certain you would have collapsed right then and there if he hadn’t been holding you up. Shrieking in dire-tinged delight, you absolutely convulse in wild abandon while your cunt pulses and thrums around nothing save your own eager slick.

It takes you a long moment to start coming down from it and even longer still to recover, but finally you stir from your boneless lolling some minutes later. Your legs don’t seem to want to work at first so he lingers for longer than he otherwise might have, letting you lean against him for support while you try to find your center of balance again. Once you look to have it under control, however, he starts to pull away but not without a quick, playful swat to the meat of your ass in parting.

Suddenly wide awake and alert, you round on him with a fierce snarl and a biting remark right on the tip of your tongue. “You - -!”

“Meet me out back after you’ve cleaned up. Don’t forget. You can tell me all about it then.”

Huffing vehemently, you get to work shoving your tits back into the top of your bodysuit while the crowd restlessly murmurs and shifts behind you, completely forgotten at this point. As was the band, still diligently playing and yet they didn’t seem quite as certain as before. “Awfully presumptuous of you, isn’t it? Who said I even wanted to see you again anyway?”

“Hey, now. I promised you a ride you’d never forget, didn’t I?” He throws you a quick wink as he backs up towards the edge of the stage, not quite ready to take his eyes off you just yet. “Besides, I’d still like to see you on your knees. Don’t think I didn’t notice how close you were to hitting the floor back there. I would have won our little bet if I hadn’t been holding you up, right?”

You sputter at that, half indignant and half flustered. It was adorable. “That’s an exaggeration you - you damn mutt! I was perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“Sure. We’ll make sure to thoroughly test that theory later.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

#honkai star rail #gallagher #gallagher x reader #self insert bullshit

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kybercrystals94 · 8 months ago

Text

The Field Mouse

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2024 - Day 24 - Alternate Prompt: Vermin

Rated: G | Words: 796 A/N: I imagine this story taking place early-mid season 1 ;-;

Hunter’s senses follow Omega as she wanders around the meadow a little distance away, humming and murmuring to herself. He and his brothers work to unpack the cargo hold and organize it, a task they’d been putting off since before the war ended. But now, with credits hard to come by, unless being undercut by a sleazy Transdoshan, it seemed high time to try and sell off anything they didn’t absolutely need.

They had come across Crosshair’s crate of armor. Hunter isn’t even sure which of them managed to get it off Kamino; however, they wordlessly set it aside in the “keep” of the clearing.

Originally, Omega had tried to help, trailing after each of them with endless questions about what she could do and where she should be. Under the circumstances, she became more of a tripping hazard than helpful. So Hunter gave her the crucial task of scouting the perimeter of their camp (which he had already thoroughly done when they arrived while she was occupied with Tech’s discourse about the planet’s atmosphere).

And as Hunter hoped, Omega’s scouting has now evolved into aimless exploration. She is safe and she is happy, which is all he truly wants for her.

Then Omega cries out, a sharp, panicked thing that drives Hunter’s blood cold.

“Omega!” he calls out, dropping the crate of parts from his arms and running in the direction he knows she is. He hears his brothers behind him, keeping pace but letting him lead.

It doesn’t take more than a minute to find her. She’s kneeling in the tall grass, little hiccuping sobs emitting from her shaking form.

“Omega?” Hunter asks, kneeling beside her. “What happened? Where are you hurt?”

Omega looks up at him, face tearstained and lower lip trembling. “I’m not hurt,” she tells him, her voice so grief stricken it breaks his heart. “The baby mouse is!”

That catches him off guard. “A baby mouse?” he asks.

Omega points to the ground in front of her, and a small, round eared creature lies there on its side, tiny chest panting rapidly.

“An animal came out and tried to catch him. I chased it away, but I think it still hurt the mouse,” Omega wails, balled fists coming up to scrub at her face. “Is he going to die?”

“Uh,” Hunter says dumbly. He can’t lie. Well…no! He can’t lie. “Yeah, kid, it's not gonna make it.”

Omega cries harder, voice warbling out, “He’s my f-friend! He was try-trying to find some seeds on the ends of the grass, and I gave him-him some and then he started following me–” A sharp intake of choked breath. “--and I didn’t protect him from that terrible thing that tried to eat–to eat him!”

Hunter looks up at his brothers, silently pleading for one of them to step in. They avert their gazes from his. Cowards.

“You did your very best, Omega,” Hunter says, reaching out and putting a hand on her back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “But things still happen. It’s not your fault.”

“He trusted me!”

“He saw you as a source of food,” Tech says.

Hunter sighs. Maybe he doesn’t want his brothers’ help after all.

“Isn’t there anything we can do for him?” Omega pleads, now lifting her eyes to all-knowing Tech specifically.

The engineer sputters out, “Well, there is, uh, not anything to do. It appears the creature will succumb to its injuries in short order.”

“If the little guy’s dying,” Wrecker says, rubbing at the back of his neck nervously, “Least he’s got his friend with ‘im so he’s not alone. Sounds like you were a good friend to the little guy.”

Omega nods and sniffs noisily, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

Hunter catches Echo making a face, but the man doesn’t say anything.

The little rodent only lasts another minute before going still. Omega sniffles, her breathing shuddering in quiet little sobs. Hunter is about to suggest they head back to the ship when Omega asks in a tiny voice, “Can we bury him?”

It isn’t how Hunter expected their quiet afternoon organizing their ship would go, standing next to the miniscule grave of a field mouse, his brothers beside him while Omega puts a bouquet of wildflowers on the mound of dirt.

“Did he have a name?” Wrecker thinks to ask.

“I hadn’t decided yet,” Omega admits.

“I think Whiskers woulda been cute,” Wrecker says.

Omega offers him a wobbly smile. “I like that.”

“Whiskers it is then,” Echo says.

A few weeks ago, Hunter would never have dreamed of taking care of a child. This morning he would never have dreamed of having a funeral for a rodent named Whiskers.

But life is full of strange surprises.

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list!

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @proteatook @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @merkitty49 @blackseafoam @illogicaalbraindump

#whumptober2024 #no.24 #altprompt #vermin #Star Wars: The Bad Batch #fic #pet loss #emotional whump #loss #angst #hurt/comfort #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #season 1 era

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egg-emperor · 5 months ago

Note

Sorry for all the hate your getting, I just wanted to ask your opinion on Stone x Robotnik, and which version of eggmans your favorite!

Thank you I appreciate that, I'm used to it this point and all the hate doesn't get to me anymore, instead it only fuels me to keep being myself and expressing my passion even more hehe 🥚🌟💜

I don't ship movie Stobotnik because I'm personally not a fan of movie Robotnik or his characterization and their dynamic doesn't compell me, if anything the best it was was the first movie from what I recall in the one time I watched each on release days and I'm not really into the development in Sonic 3 because I prefer it to feel mostly one sided in terms of emotional involvement as I do all my ships with Eggman, as that's what is most in character for game Egg. I don't wanna sound like a negative hater though so I won't talk anything more about that lol

I'd say I kind of ship it when it comes to the idea of game Eggman x Stone though. I mean, I don't think and create anything about them a lot myself because the dynamic that would work for game Eggman involved specifically is already something I write all the time and always have long before Stone existed, as my self ship, Starline x Eggman, etc, is literally exactly the same as Stone would realistically be with game Eggman already. So I'm not all that invested in writing the same type of things again with a third different ship you know XD

But I do like seeing other people's creations in fandom like art (haven't tried looking for fic because I'm unsure of if anyone would pull it off in a way I feel works and would prefer but non story based art doesn't involve that) when it involves game Eggman's classic/modern design and is done in a way that feels in character. And they're just fun to see. I love when people embrace the massive size difference because game Eggman is a beast of a giant bear, that's always hot. I like when they're both drawn loving evil together rather than romance, that's all up my alley

I personally wouldn't want Stone/Stobotnik officially be in the games though. Not exclusive to this ship as I wouldn't want Stone, myself, or anyone else I ship with him to be in the games with him. I think Eggman works best far away from all other living beings, only around his superior robots and programs. I've always liked that he seems to be comfortable and happy in it unlike jimbotnik. Seeing how he talks about his creations being superior to natural life, he feels they're truly superior and prefers how he's more likely to have full control over them in creation and programming than living beings

Considering that he's expressed no desires to exist in the close proximity of anyone besides his own creations or discontentment with his current way of living, I can imagine he only sees living beings as his subjects to rule over when he takes over the world, not to live in close presence. He probably doesn't want any of them ever thinking they could be on his level or worthy of him, so he'd prefer to stay living as an untouchable ruler far above them and not start to mingle with common inferior beings, let alone have a connection with any. It fits him very well

But I think it's still something fun to explore scenarios of in daydreams and fan stuff for me, while considering what his in character interactions would be like if there was a reason for living beings to at least temporarily be around him and him doing gay stuff with them. As he has teamed up with living beings in the games a few times but they never last/are intentionally temporary and I think that's best and makes the most sense for him and wouldn't suddenly change under any circumstances. That's my feelings on it based on what I see

But I'm very happy people are finally considering and embracing gay game Eggman stuff. There's always been plenty of potential in the games alone that people still aren't aware of but the movies are making more open and that's great. Stobotnik isn't one of my biggest ships as it's only official form is in movies I'm not a fan of but I'll take any gay Eggman ship as a fan for 19 years where for most of that time it was rare for him to be shipped with anyone, let alone considered gay. It's nice there's been a shift, all I can ask for is for more with gorgeous game design Eggman!

To answer your second question, it may be pretty obvious now with this post alone and one glimpse at my blog that my favorite version is none other than game Eggman! XD

Both the beautiful modern and classic designs, in every single game and era from beginning to present and future, as he's the exact same guy I know and love across time in all. I'm actually not a fan of most of the versions in non canon adaptions and ones I do like are determined by how alike to the games they are. He's the first one I got to know and love and he'll always be the best!

He was my introduction to the series and he's so handsome, funny, and evil, three most important things about his character that made me fall in love with him. He's always so consistently entertaining and captivating in his characterization in all the games too. I've adored him for 19 years and almost no other version has came close to the passion and adoration he makes me feel

And he's so gorgeous all the time, from his adorable spherical classic design to his sexy egg shaped daddy modern design. He has reached absolute peak perfection in the source! 🥰

My collection kinda reflects this very well lol. Very outdated photo but you can see that his modern and classic design absolutely dominates the shrine lol

#asks #dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #my post #stobotnik #sonic movie

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years ago

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i love the pumpkin decor from anura and the skulls from silk cradle !! even though its not even close to halloween,,,(its always in my heart lmao) i was thinking about bishops (+narinder and/or labert, if your up for it) platonically with a child! black cat reader (who is kind of like in the spooky month skid and pump mindset LOL, but the town they grew up in, possibly outside the lands of the old faith, is very halloween-centered)

i hope this isnt too specific !!

Don't worry, Halloween's ALWAYS in my heart haha. I love those decorations too! And the ones from the blood moon ritual. Can't wait for that event again

.........

Heket

With pumpkin patches flourishing in her domain, it only makes sense for her to have celebrations and rituals surrounding the harvest season.

Yet she knows nothing of this "Halloween" you've rambled on about to her followers, nor why you became so excited upon discovering that Anura's environment reflects the autumn season.

That's because the town you're from is centered entirely around the holiday, with you living among ghouls, skeletons, demons, crows, and (of course) other black cats.

To you, every day is Halloween and you're loud and proud about it!

You introduced the idea of jack o'lanterns to Heket when she discovers you carving a pumpkin, sticking a candle inside after you gutted the entire crop, much to her confusion and annoyance.

"You there..why do you waste precious food?" She accuses, but you're completely oblivious to her anger.

"Where I come from, we always carve pumpkins! And we make cool things like this!" You show her your finished product: a Yellow Crown carved onto the face of the pumpkin. "I offer this to you, Lady Heket."

"I see, but...what am I to do with it?"

"You put it outside your home to ward off scary spirits! Like those who wanna wilt the crops!"

She had her doubts about these traditions of yours, but she grows to like this "jack of lantern" and puts it into effect almost immediately.

More followers join in, learning how to carve their own pumpkins and place them outside their homes.

It actually gives the incredibly superstitious and paranoid some comfort that they won't be haunted or plagued by negative spirits/energy.

Heket made a point to allow an overabundance of pumpkin patches during Halloween season so there's enough for both food and carving.

She also discovers people are willing to pay for the best-looking ones, so she allows the elders to run stands by the fields and make some coin.

Ofc, a good chunk of the profits go directly to her.

Shamura

Skull piles and skeletal decorations are commonplace in Silk Cradle, being trophies of wars and intimidating those who dared wander into their domain--grim reminders that it could be their own skull next.

You, however, find them nonthreatening as you've had similar decor back in your little town of Halloween (/ref).

Fake or not, you loved them all the same (plus the cobwebs, even though most are just part of the natural environment) and had to ask Shamura if Halloween was celebrated all year here, too.

Although their brain struggles to recollect things, they have books on holidays and their ancient origins..so they are aware it exists.

But it's not one they ever cared to implement.

Nevertheless, they permit you to decorate your home to your heart's content with whatever skulls and bundles of silk you found--as well as pumpkins shipped from Anura.

They're nicer to you bc you remind them of Narinder back in his youth, fascinated with the spooky and the taboo.

All the giant axe traps and toxic pits scattered throughout Silk Cradle never bothered you, as you've seen them back in the spooky dungeons of your hometown.

Usually the resident bugs would freak out any newcomer shelling in new traditions..but Shamura told them that you, specifically, are not to be harmed under any circumstance and that they allowed this.

You've actually befriended Hauras, sewing them a spidery Halloween cape for them in place of the gray rags they wore.

They wear it with pride to every sermon from there on, not caring who judges.

Kallamar

This bishop's paranoia is a force to be reckoned with.

Even if one hapless follower said the words "red crown" in any context, he'll strike them down for "preaching heresy". He's easily scared of the taboo and misfortune falling into his realm.

So Halloween is definitely the last thing he wants to hear about, especially with its association of black cats (who are in turn associated with bad luck and Narinder).

He keeps trying to shoo you away when you try explaining that's a common myth.

If he sees you using bones and skulls as decorations, he feels sick to his stomach and orders you to take them down.

Those can be used to forge weapons or intimidate potential dissenters! They're not yours to keep!!

Yet you never listen, oblivious to his demands as you try telling him they're harmless.

Would he ever punish you for disobeying with sickness or sacrifice?

No...or at least not at this stage in your life.

That would damage his already-fragile reputation as a leader even further.

But if you grew up into an elder and continued with these "twisted traditions", however, he'd punish you as retribution for the "torment" you've brought upon him.

He just wishes you'd follow his ways and his ways alone.

Fortunately for you, that retribution never comes as he's brought into Lamb's cult during your teen years...with you keeping the Halloween tradition alive and well.

And Kallamar has a more open mind now, although he's still easily spooked by the decor Lamb brings out during the Blood Moon Festival.

The first time he partakes in it, someone pranked him with a fake ear and it traumatized him so bad he cried and hid inside his shelter.

But you comforted him, forgoing the festivities and sharing your candy until he was okay.

You just show him how to carve a jack o'lantern for the remainder of the night, and he's in awe as it glows.

Every year since, Halloween becomes less and less scary for him--and it's all ironically thanks to you.

Leshy

As a young bishop, he's open to ideas for traditions, holidays, etc. for his followers to enjoy.

So when little kitty cat you hailing from a distant land of Halloween propose celebrating it...he's all for it!

The only problem is, well, his sight.

With the Green Crown, he can see the general forms of followers, his siblings, and most structures within Darkwood, but he wouldn't be able to see the tiny details that gave Halloween its magic.

But you explained how you could go for bigger and brighter things. Like jack o'lanterns (made of both pumpkins and turnips) and skulls of giant beasts!

He approves of it and lets you lead in decorating the village nearest to his temple.

Followers initially questioned why they had to listen to a child, of all folks, but they're grateful it's something genuinely fun.

From your town, you've also brought scented candles to really enhance everybody's spooky spirit.

Especially for your Lord Leshy, who finds the smells delightful.

The pumpkin spice ends up becoming his favorite.

You've got him completely fixated on this event.

Plus it's a good opportunity for chaos to reign: with followers pranking one other and scaring each other half to death, dressing up like ghouls and skeletons.

The Bonfire Ritual is one Leshy likes to conduct to boost both his strength and cult morale (he's gotta benefit from all of this somehow too, of course).

Lamb

Not only did Lamb's cult know about Halloween...but they also celebrated it with the Blood Moon Festival.

You fully participated in the ritual every year, rushing outside just in time to see the moon turn blood-red and the sky darken for several days.

The ghosts of deceased followers usually terrified the living, yet you greeted all of them with smiles, waving goodbye as Lamb exorcised them with their book.

Crows, cattle skeletons, and even demons flocked to the cult as well, having been residents of your hometown, too.

And the decorations?????

You were obsessed and jumping for joy, wanting to decorate your little shelter and help everybody else with theirs!

And of course you participated in the many activities going on, including bonfire rituals, apple bobbing, and passing out soul cakes (yep you had a recipe for that from your hometown, too).

One year, Webber showed up and was initially scared since everyone was just staring at them and the spiders scattered around their feet..

But you greeted them warmly, showing them around the cult grounds and what the festival was all about.

Lamb themselves is impressed.

You're only half the age of most of their followers, yet you're active and very responsible (although only if your tasks have anything to do with Halloween).

So as a gift, they bless you with a jack o'lantern necklace. Not only does it light up at night, but its magical properties allowed you to lift up any pumpkin no matter its size with ease!

You vow to carve the biggest jack o'lantern the Old Faith's ever seen.

#clanask #anonymous #cult of the lamb x reader #cotl x reader #bishop heket #bishop shamura #bishop leshy #bishop kallamar #cotl lamb #child reader #cat reader #platonic #headcanons #halloween

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poisonouspastels · 5 months ago

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Are the deckhands of the Orca actual zombies or are they just like that due to corrosion?

Both, technically!

All of the Deckhands look the way they do physically because many of them en mass were thrown in the ocean (improper drone disposal, shame on you!) after the oil extraction operations on Copper 9 became defunct due to not being something that was seen as profitable and reliable in the long term. (Specifically one would later become Outpost 2 after the core collapse) So of course, a lot of them are pretty beat up, rusted over, and dirty from their time at sea + whatever came before. Needless to say, a drone and water don't exactly mix well with each other, so those who hit the sea were dead within minutes if they couldn't reach land in time. A bit of water damage is livable, but being surrounded by it as you rapidly sink is another thing.

A while after the core collapse hit and the ocean froze over, Rustbeard has started to make a hobby out of fishing those dead bodies out of the ocean. Given he was a worker drone that was initially thrown in himself (though saved by Sharkbait in a miracle's worth of good luck), he too hasn't been able to escape the wear that's overcome his body while at sea. Namely, his legs have almost entirely rusted over, making him unable to move of his own accord. So, that's where his "passion project" came in: fishing out dead drones from the ocean and rewiring what's usable to use to his advantage.

Though your zombie comparison is accurate under normal circumstances, the Deckhands alongside Rustbeard are closer compared to a hivemind I'd say. It's his way of getting around now that he's become near immobilized from the waist down, being connected and in control of all of them through a neural link. His voice overlapping with their own as they speak, the only sign left of any sense of individuality they may have had before death. When he isn't putting his full focus into them though, they have set tasks that they do on repeat like a pre-programmed function. Otherwise, they simply idle in place, swaying with the weight of the ship, not unlike the zombie comparison.

For what it's worth though, he still takes good care of them. They're just as much part of the crew as his living comrades.

#murder drones #murder drones oc #captain rustbeard #ask #thank you for the ask! i love getting to explain stuff like this :)

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pixigels · 2 months ago

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On your Romerica rambling post, you said that their situationship was off during the 30's and 40's, and that it deserved it's own post because of the complexities of the time period. I actually share this same hc!!

Tho I was wondering if u were ever gonna follow up on dat w another text post?

HIII ! actually I'm glad you asked! honestly I've spent a long time thinking about their dynamic so anyone asking is like "neuron activated" after months of college work and psychological torture. whoa that txt post is like a year and a half overdue since. So I'll use this ask as an excuse to elaborate on my thoughts

DISCLAIMER i do go down the historical route as a way to elaborate how events would impact their dynamic and then into how it shapes the two individuals as symbolic to their nations. My intention is not to water down historical events to ships. Also I've always been really into history as a personal hobby even before hetalia so I will geek out.

During the 30s envisioned them as having a natural falling out as a result of them no longer living together. Adding to that how they both had bigger issues to deal with in their own home countries. Up to then maybe some feelings of fondness for what was until there wasn't.

Now the 40s is very interesting to me because I rarely see people mention it but i think its important because of Operation Husky 1943 aka the anglo-american offense on southern Italy and Operation Underworld 1942 since it is related with espionage in ports that led up to Operation Husky.

To put it frankly I don't think any characters had a "truly healthy" relation with each other during ww2 even those that were allies of each other in general (but that's just my opinion). Now considering the first strong interaction they have after like a a decade of a falling out is being on "opposite" sides of a war, that's quite a lot already. I say ""opposite"" in air quotes simply because at the same time historically Italy is divided in civil war between the fascists and resistance. I personally see romano as symbolic to the resistance (idk if this even qualifies as a hc bcs i think its kind of implied in canon hetalia).

dynamic wise its bittersweet. i find that in terms of the characters its like reuniting with someone you spent time with a lot and maybe you do hold some fondness even after falling out. but like its under the worst circumstances. Where it is way more bitter than sweet as a result of conflicts where as a nation one is very weak at least compared to the other side. On romano's end i've hc that despite collaborating with the anglo-american forces against the axis. It wouldn't warrant full immediate trust. Because by all means they could be taking advantage of you. To an extent my hc is that he is partially right, at least in the way America could use their past bond as an advantage. I don't believe the transition was easy for either to get back to "trusting each other" like before. However, it makes sense for me that around the 50s it's different. (I would like to do another deepdive into their dynamic in this era as well)

I think its important to mention how the US' role in WW2 (historically) isn't simply that of the "hero." (yes unfortunately a lot of people in the hetalia fandom have a very usamerican washed version of history where ppl think they can just repeat the "america is just doing his best bcs he wants to be a hero " sentiment uncritically simply because they like the character (I already have my issues with this in canon at times). i might sound like I'm making this too deep but I find it to be an important disclaimer just in case to not conflate hetalia characters with the countries in a way that makes people uncritically look into a country's role in history.

In hetalia, interestingly enough the only mention of romano + america during ww2 in hetalia is in this specific moment. where romano is kinda terrified. which is veryyyy surface level bcs yk its hetalia. Still I feel like this decade is something that can offer a lot in terms of exploring their dynamics if you aren't bound by canon/

I'm always a 50/50 believer when it comes to the "hetalia characters as personifications of their government" vs the "hetalia characters represent their people" because governments impact people and nations relations and people impact government. So yes I did go very historical. If you know me, I'm pretty big into highlight the importance of at least having a grip of the history to understand why certain characters act the way they do in canon. (even though its fair to say fuck canon a good amount of the time)

I hope I was able to elaborate the complexities with the right amount enough nuance :) let me know if you would like me to clarify any hcs

#gels.txt #romerica.txt #romerica #americano #hetalia #historical hetalia

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billieonmars · 5 months ago

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Rules for requests and things you should know

Hi fanfic lovers, I've decided that I would try requests once again. One thing to know about me is that I have tried this many times in the past and it usually led to me getting stressed and unmotivated to write. Because of this I have some rules/things you should know before requesting.

Firstly, your requests may or may not sit for a while before I get to them. Unfortunately, despite how much I would like to, I can't spend all day on my laptop lol. But don't worry, as long as you're kind and follow my rules then I will definitely respond!

Secondly, I want to make it known that I struggle with maladaptive daydreaming. Unlike how some people show it online, it is something that is not fun and can lead to me having some issues. The only reason I mention it is because it affects my writing. I will only write about characters that my daydreaming has specifically targeted at that time. Sometimes characters will come back, other times they won't. So basically, you can ask for requests but I may not do them if I don't feel connected to the character at the time.

Thirdly, like most people who write fanfics, these are mostly self-indulgent so you will see a lot of the same elements come up. But don't be scared to ask for something different! I will always respond respectfully and will never be mad unless it is something that goes directly against my rules. However, one element that does come up will never change because of the self-indulgent aspect of my writing. As I mention in my rules, I won't write smut but it can be implied. I don't want to say the reader will be 'submissive' or 'passive' as it makes me feel icky but I will say the reader will always be implied to be the bottom when smutty things do come up.

With that out of the way, here are my rules: (the ones outlined in red are things I wont do, the ones in green are things that I would like you to include in your request)

No real people. I will not, under any circumstance, write a fanfic about a real person. This is out of respect for them.

I only write male!reader/GN!reader and only for GN or male characters. This is because of unresolved gender issues and or maladaptive issues; I don't feel like explaining further lol.

Only pick from characters that I have done previously or have stated that I would be open to writing about them. This is just because I haven't opened myself to many fandoms/there are some characters that I just don't feel connected to.

I don't do specific readers. Idk if that makes sense because I don't actually know what these are called. Basically, don't request yourself to be put in a fic. You can request a reader with specific traits I.e. shy, specific race, fashion style, etc. but not a specific outline of yourself that the reader will be. My fics will always be vague enough for anyone to read (except for the ones specified as male readers in the sense that you will always be referred to as he/him.)

I don't write smut. I'm okay with doing implied smut but nothing specific or too heated. I just don't feel comfortable sharing that part of myself on the internet lol.

My cut off for implied smut if 16 years old. like I said, I can imply smut and things like that but I will not do that for characters any younger than 16 years old. Younger than 16 will only be hand holding and kissing.

I don't write fandom ships. This includes things like Drarry and Pernico. This is because it reminds me of my Wattpad days and I'd like to not go back to that lol.

Please specify weather our request is a fic, headcanon, etc. I'd like to know what you're looking for because if I'm strapped for time I may do headcanon requests first. I also just want to make you happy with what you're looking for!

Give enough detail so I don't miss anything you want in the writing. You can give detailed requests or non detailed; I like both! But make sure you include everything you want! You must Include: is it GN or Male reader? The prompt, what type (rule 8), any specific details about the reader, and what character you want. With characters that age, you will also need to include what age they are at this time.

Characters I will write for:

Harry potter: Draco Malfoy, Harry potter, Fred and George Weasley (separately), Cedric Diggory, and pretty much any male character (not including Dumbledor or anything lol) so if you request one I most likely will do it. *Like I said in my rules; if the request is more than just hand-holding/kissing, the characters need to be 16 or older.

Lord of the rings: Legolas, Haldir, Aragorn, and Frodo.

Percy Jackson: make sure all requests for this are age appropriate. Percy Jackson, Jason Grace, Leo Valdez, MAYBE Nico Di Angelo depending on the request.

Random Characters: These are characters from fandoms I like but I only write for one character. Carl Grimes (The Walking Dead), Sam Monroe (Life as a House), Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Miles Fairchild (The Turning)

I may add more once I start doing some requests, but for now this is it. Thanks for reading all of these ranty things lol, I appreciate it.

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lindsay00000008 · 4 months ago

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Fear of heights Whump

Tied to the mast of a ship, up at the crow’s nest. Cold sea spray and chafed skin.

Trapped on a high floor of a castle, Dracula-style — the only way out is to climb, and that seems impossible.

Poison or blood loss kicking in on a balcony, the world spinning below. Whumper can grab them by the waist and make sure they don’t go tumbling over the rail.

Inhuman Whumper carrying them in the air, with magic or wings or sheer monstrous height.

Caretaker can’t help them, can only watch as Whumpee’s unsure feet test split beams and cracking roof tiles. Escape is so close — but do either of them really believe Whumpee can make it across?

Bonus ramble:

A disastrous fall right at the worst moment…

Finally, the call of another legion can be heard behind the scream of the hordes. The empire hadn’t abandoned them. Xihei looked across the crumbling stone wall of the fortress to see Ji’s head whip in his direction. Her grin at hearing those brass horns was visible even through the mess of blood on her face. They’d managed it, held strong — the hordes would not strike through to the heart of the city before reinforcements were on their tail. The beasts would be forced to run. But something pricked at Xihei’s attention — where was the shadow that usually came with these beasts, the figure that swooped low to pick off chosen targets, that favored throwing bodies from border walls and disrupting any sense of security the high ground offered? It hadn’t been seen today — but then there was a flash, and as if in slow motion, Xihei watched as Ji’s expression shift, and her body was shoved back at the hands of an invisible force. The stone behind her back was not high enough to stop her momentum, and her eyes widened, locked on Xihei’s, as her spine whipped back over the edge, her hips pivoting, her hands releasing her weapon and finding only air. Xihei’s breath caught, and in an instant he was left replaying the memory of Ji’s expression as she disappeared from sight.

Bonus bonus ramble idea, that idk how exactly to write but the vibes are juicy:

Whumpee has some weakness to Whumper. Perhaps they’re Whumper’s creation. They can be commanded, controlled, under specific circumstances. Their powers can leave them. It’s rare, taking all of Whumper’s energy, and it’s not expected that it will ever happen again. Whumper can only shut them down now, they can’t force them to hurt anyone anymore. Not like before. It gives Whumpee a sense of freedom, despite the risk. But right when they least expect it, when Whumpee is standing victorious at a high point, and Whumper has been brought down by their wounds — Whumper commands them to sleep. But Whumper wouldn’t have, they couldn’t let Whumpee be destroyed, could they? Could they be so petty, so cruel, as they themselves lay dying?

Caretaker watches in shock as Whumpee’s eyes shut and their body goes limp. They drop, tumbling over the ledge. And everything they’ve fought for is taken in an instant.

#whumpspiration #whump writing #whumpblr #ramblings #whump prompt #fantasy whump

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contents404 · 7 months ago

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There are specific reasons why some of the ME2 mechanism only works in ME2.

Like the maps are small in ME2, but the loading animation makes sense as you wait for the ship’s door to open, so mentally your brain can trick itself into believing “Yeah, Shepard and squads traveled a long way”.

But that does not work as well in DA2. Cause the wooden door doesn't work that way and the loading animations do not imply your team travels a long way or walks through the door. DAO did better than DA2 in that part.

Also, Shepard’s not usually the one to start a conversation. It makes sense cause they are military. The command chain is clear. Shepard is the commander others are under their command. No chat with the officer is common. And asking permission to deal with your own shit is common. As in a strictly ranked environment is common.

On the other hand, there is no chain of command that level clear in DA. Like the Inquisitor is obviously the head of a military organization, but they are also a puppet figure made by circumstances and the advisors. While Rook is Verric’s second-in-command but also feels like others just don’t want to make a decision. So in this situation, giving Rook a mere chance to start a non-quest-relevant conversation with anyone makes it weird. These people are not their employees. But they feel like a corpo project team more than the chosen family the devs claimed.

Specific planets’ political issues don’t matter cause everything is burning, on screen in ME2 and 3. Also when Shepard and team land on any planet is mission-specific. They don't see as many normal NPCs and they definitely don't walk through those people’s life as DA’s team does.

Meanwhile, the South is burning in the letters from the Inquisitor. That's lazy development. It's tell not show. You are a game, you need to show people that. Rook walks through maps full of people, overhearing normal NPCs talking steps into their personal lives cause that's the side quest. This does not work like that in ME2 cause it gives you the feeling that the whole North is covering their shits up somehow. You only see Tevinter slaves out of Tevinter, you only see them when you save them or hear them from the shadow dragon, otherwise, you only see former slaves like a lord of fortune Rook. In Dock Town, though you might see people seem or feel like they might be slaves but no one says the word like is a Taboo or something. And guards are like statues they don’t do a thing. It feels so fake on a deeper level than it in ME.

And when there is no banter cause you hear all you can at the point. The Normandy is just a ship. When nobody talking it just feels like a silent ship. Maybe everyone just had a bad day. You can make sensible assumptions.

But in the Inquisition or the Veilguard? It feels like the fucking world is in silence all of a sudden. The only two who still play with you are Assan and Manfred. They are great! But except for them, the whole fucking fade is in a weird silence. The lighthouse and the whole endless void around it. It's some real horror.

#dragon age #mass effect #bioware critiques or just a shit post #It's just things I figured out so far #might find other things why ME mechanisms don’t always translate well into DA #do I spoiled anything?#dragon age the veilguard spoilers #anyway put the spoiled tag there #welcome to my ted talk

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sloshys · 2 years ago

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HI FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THERE ARE OTHER DAAN/O'SAA SHIPPERS OUT HERE????? PLEASE TELL ME ALL OF YOUR THOUGHTS IM FUCKING DESPERATE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE BEGGING YOU

My little fucking guys

Im so fucking bad when it comes to writing hcs or character analysis. Im going to try it out but i hope someone who’s a writer and whos interested this pairing gets to explain it all better than i can.

Everything under the cut theres some talk about sex at the end but its brief

I want to preface this that despite the fact that im very much into shipping every time i enter a new fandom i dont think any termina characters were able to directly confess their feelings to eachother. They simply have too much going on in mind, too busy surviving or hardly trust eachother. Despite the amount of events happening, i think only 3 days is super short amount of time for these guys to truly be sure of their feelings for eachother and dont have time to think over it ( only Samarie truly makes sense to me cuz she knew Marina before that even if its one sided)

Their parallels

Both of them were doomed to grow up fast in order to survive because of political and religious circumstances that neither had control over. Daan lost his family because they were fervent Sylvian worshippers, and Osaa grew in the chaos of the religious wars ravaging his country (perhaps that's how he lost his father in the process, but that's just a theory). Also, their respective situations parallel each other as they focus on both the traces of the old gods Sylvian (Daan’s parents being bunnymask cultists) and Gro-goroth (war and chaos in Abyssonia). It doesn't mean anything in particular about the characters themselves, but these two old gods did complete each other.

They both had an advanced education with Daan being an apprentice butler and modern medicine while O’saa studied spirituality and religion.

During adulthood, they both went through unspeakable horrors. For Daan, it was war; he only managed to keep his sanity with the letters he exchanged with Elise. For O'saa, it was being haunted by nightmares and his exploration of the dungeon of fear and hunger. These events traumatised them, and they had their own ways to cope with them, but Daan is visibly depressed.

Both seem to have an interest in fashion as they are self conscious on the way they dress. (Daan hates dirtying his clothes and O’saa likes being complimented on them)

Oh so youre both men with two “a ” in your names

Interpretation and headcanons

-O'saa had several people unknowingly open up about their problems at the confessional booth. Daan, who was wandering alone in the church with his thoughts eating him up, decided to give it a go, even if he wasn't religious, even if no one would respond. Part of him felt like it was sort of therapeutic. But to his surprise, someone did respond on the other side of the booth. Daan’s interest perks up when he notices the lack of professionalism from what he would assume to be a priest. They were judgmental and cold, but also understanding and interested at the same time. The rational thoughts of someone who doesn’t follow a specific belief and has their own morals they want to stand by. Yeah nothing like a priest Daan also hears some sort of familiarity with the voice and slowly realises who owns it. Daan would start playfully answering questions until O’saa couldn't keep up his identity. Unlike the other participants, he doesn't come out of the booth laughing; it’s just Daan looking at him smugly while the yellow mage’s expression is between disappointment and irritation. But regardless, they did have a nice talk in there, not that either of them would admit it.

-tbh a lot of their relationship is a back and forth one of them making a joke, the other roll their eyes and they would reply with “why are you always so serious???”

-O’saa secretely likes making Daan laugh. He keeps telling himself because his humor is more of his taste but its mostly cuz Daan always looks so gloomy

-Actually, these two don't know how to express their emotions. Daan sees how distant O’saa is from everyone and kind of wants him to be able to settle in with the group. O'saa, who doesn’t like to show his sympathy, still tries to make Daan laugh at times because he seems worryingly miserable and sad (his own jokes tend to make him laugh more than Daan, however). They just try to cheer each other up in the most complex brain gymnastic game by poking fun and making bad jokes with the worst timing possible, which mostly confuses the both of them more than anything else.

- O’saa doesnt like Daan’s smoking and drinking habits. But he does admit that it gives him a certain charm and the drinks he makes for him

-When O’saa revealed the identity of the Sulfur god to Daan there was this sting of empathy he felt for him despite Nas’hara’s scolding. And didn’t want to reveal to much not just for the sake of forbidden otherworldly knowledge but to spare him from such heavy info when he’s already going though so much grief.

-Daan was, deep down, extremely grateful for O’saa sharing his knowledge. When they met later, he insisted on taking care of O'saa's wounds after he was shot by August’s arrows. But O’saa is always on guard and asks Daan to take his vest off while he holds on to it and his scalpel. He will grab the back of his neck, warning Daan that If he tries anything funny, he will deal him a fatal blow. Despite the fact that it was supposed to create tension, the two were never this physically close to each other before…

-Daan would notice O’saa fragrance and Osaa would notice Daan’s lipstick

-Now sex is a difficult topic. Something that forces them into a state they so desperately tried to avoid their whole lives. The feeling becoming undone by sharing something with someone special or showing vulnerability. A primal feeling, feeling alive. They had a quick fuck to release steam. They try to convince themselves that its for personal satisfaction or giving a helping hand but it ever hardly felt like that. They still had this connection they refused or couldn’t to share with spoken words. It never went too far, but it was never bad. Quite the contrary, the sex was good but always too short

-O’saa realised he had developped a worshipping kink because of Daan. But Daan noticed it much earlier.

#fear and hunger #o’saa #daan #no idea what their ship name is #but i want to use odaamn bc thats funny af

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