#character death mention tw

[masonjarart]

OH their moral compass is in shambles it's shattered on the ground with quackitys corpse

The craving for a win is too strong

[aquadestinyswriting]

You Never Cared

Summary: Llachlan and Pal-El enter one of the many chambers of the Hall of Heroes, having been told to go to this one in particular by the Hall's guardian. A one-sided argument ensues when the spirt they've been sent to see shows up.

Words: 1,003, a little over, but I can't make it much shorter.

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes,@flashfictionfridayofficial, @ashirisu, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

Warnings: Implied neglect, implied character death, implied ritual sacrifice, all of the angst

Notes: This is set during the current campaign! I have Pal-El's player's permission to use the character here. Based loosely on an actual session, mostly because I don't remember what exactly was said at the time and I'm not allowed to record sessions for this campaign.

Pal-El looked around the chamber he had been directed to by Aurianna. It was beautifully decorated, he thought, recognising the runic text of Moradhir scripture carved into the pillars on either side of him. The ceiling was vaulted and a large statue of Moradin stood at the far end of the chamber, the gaze of the Dwarf Father overlooking a simple shrine at His feet. A large barrel sat to one side of it and the shrine itself was adorned with offerings of various gemstones, various smithing tools and tankards that had once, presumably, been filled with ale and beer.

The warforged paladin turned his attention to the black-haired dwarf that walked alongside him. Llachlan was sullen and shifting uncomfortably, glaring at the statue of the god his people so revered. Pal-El sighed, he understood why the young dwarf was reluctant to be here. Hells, he was nervous, and he’d had a very good relationship with Archlector Bloodvein, all things considered.

Both paladin and forsaken warlock froze as the air in the chamber… shifted. The lights flickered briefly as a slight breeze wound between the two beings. Pal-El looked around as the breeze died down, standing ready just in case anything popped out of the shadows that were cast by the lights. His sensors didn’t pick up any intruders, or much of anything if he was honest with himself. Lachlan frowned as he too looked around the chamber, seeing nothing that seemed untoward. But that didn’t mean that they were alone, he knew all too well that there were ways for his enemies to cloak themselves even from his eldritch sight.

“Hello son.”

Both Llachlan and Pal-El jumped at the sound of the voice coming from behind them, both whirling around to come face to face with the semi-translucent form of a much younger dwarven woman than either of them remembered. The short, stout figure wore the vestments of an Inquisitor of Moradin over a set of heavy plate armour, which was heavily inscribed with scripture. Her beard was a bright auburn with no sign of white in it and only barely reached her stomach. A simple mace hung from her hip on one side while a mythril-bound book of Moradin hung from the other. 

Pal-El immediately bowed his head, his mechanisms clunking and his armour clanking as he immediately fell to one knee, a hand pressed flat across his chest where his Core sat,

“Your Eminence! Truly I am glad to see you face to face once more. You look… well.” he intoned, stumbling over his greeting as he tried to think of the correct words to say in this moment.

Llachlan, as Pal-El kneeled, glowered at the figure standing in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest. He snorted,

“Bit late for the whole ‘son’ thing, don’t you think?” he spat. 

The spirit’s hopeful expression immediately fell at the words. She closed her eyes and slowly shook her head,

“For all that she tried to convince you otherwise, you never stopped being ma wee baby boy, Llachlan.” she sighed, “I know there aren’t any words I can say that –'' She was cut off by Llachlan’s angry snarl,

“Then don’t!” he snapped, “Just – Get on with what you’re here to do, then get lost!”

Pal-El cautiously raised his head, frowning as he took in the hurt and lost expression that crossed his mistress’ face at the words. She said nothing more, nodded and turned her attention to the warforged that was still kneeling at her feet. The spirit smiled sadly at him,

“Pal-El… what’re ye doin’ still kneeling like that? Come on, get up.” she said, obviously trying not to let her voice quaver too much, and failing badly. Pal-El did as he was told and stood once more, towering over the short woman. He looked over to Llachlan,

“I know we’re here more for my sake, but maybe it would be a good idea to hear her out?” he suggested. Llachlan turned his glower to the warforged,

“Why should I?” he asked, “I don’t need, nor want, to hear whatever damned excuses she has!” he snapped. 

“I make no excuses for what I did and said.” The spirit interjected, her voice quiet, despondent, “As much as I cared, still care –”

Llachlan’s twisted into an ugly scowl, his face burning a deep red as he clenched his hands into fists at his side,

“You cared? You. Cared?! Bollocks you did!” he thundered, throwing a hand out to one side, “All you fucking cared about was your own damn self! If you actually cared, then why not tell me about my own damn heritage and where the powers I ended up with came from?! If you cared as much as you say you did, then why the hells was I made to feel like the monster you clearly thought I was?!” Lachlan didn’t bother trying to stop his tears from falling into his beard as he continued his rant, “If you cared as much as you say you did, then why did you let them take me just to kill me?!” he sobbed.

Meredith Gruksdottir shook her head, tears streaking into her own beard,

“Because I was too blind to see what was happening right under my nose.” she replied, her voice tight, “Hate me all you want, Llachlan, but I will not deny the fact that I still love you.” 

Lachlan’s scowl lifted into surprised shock as his mother’s words finally reached him. His heart ached. How could he have allowed himself to be manipulated into believing that the one person who loved him so unconditionally despised his existence? And yet, there was still a part of him that couldn’t bring himself to forgive her. Not yet. Instead, Lachlan settled for a grumble and nodded to Pal-El,

“Well, since ye’re here, ye might as well fix this idiot.” he grumbled. Meredith simply smiled sadly at him, then turned her attention to the warforged that was patiently waiting for her attention.

[lcstkey]

❝ i don’t like it when you’re quiet for too long, what’s on your mind? ❞ - from Alisaie | @diademreigned Hades Sentence Starters

While Selena normally felt comfort in silence, this time it felt unbearable in the in Rhalgr's Reach where she is sitting by the red mage's bedside. There were so many things the keybearer wanted to say about the events prior to this meeting, but she's still taking it all in.

"....What in the seven hells happened, Alisaie?" She blurts out, unable to hide the rage in her shaking voice and tightens the grip on her cloak, "When I arrived at Ala Ghiri, I hear that the imperials had shot down Specula Imperatoris with everyone still fighting inside. That Commander Kemp died and that Yda-I mean, Lyse, succeeded him."

"Then I hear that the Alliance and the Resistance managed to captured Castrum Abania and you got hurt in the process." Selena's lip quivers, frost creeping from her grip onto the cloth.

"Thank Del-the Twelve, I'm relieved to see that you're alright now...But, is your brother and the Warrior of Light faring well? Were they...Were they caught in the..." The keybearer swallows the lump in her throat, but couldn't to finish her sentence out of fear her inquiry may not yield the answer she wanted.

What kind of monster shoots their own people? The terrifying thought scrapes the back of her mind like nails on a chalkboard. There is an urge rising from deep in her chest, whispering to her to hunt and cut down this monster down, but...

Would I be any better if I killed the bastard?

[bloominghands]

TW Character Death: Ok but Robin somehow being mortally wounded by her loved one and as she’s dying in their arms she’s the one consoling them. And then, because she’s awful and all kinds of fucked up, “There’s no one else I’d give the satisfaction of killing me.” Amen.

[reapcrbunny]

(    🐇   )              SHE HOLDS THE young alphinaud's cheek with one hand, doing what she could to settle him down while she did the same for herself. her head came to lean 'gainst his as she let out a silent sigh - they've been through so much already but she wishes he knows she does NOT blame him for his inability to SAVE A LIFE.

AS SHE PULLED away she looks him in the eye, only giving more space so that he could see her sign. <    THERE WAS NOTHING you could do. the wound was too great, there was nothing we could have done TO SAVE HAURCHEFANT.    >     

@ichoric liked for a starter ( for alphinaud )

[astrcthesiai-archived]

headcanon + when he was a newbie (Roberto)

Oh, I believe he was pretty insufferable. He wanted the truth. To change things. He was very energetic and needed to focus that energy on certain things. He had partners scold him about the ways in which he received information. Even had some run-ins with the authorities. As a reporter on a wasteland planet when everyone is possibly out to kill you... it just isn't a good idea. He learned hard and used alcohol to heal. His smoking habit increased from once a day to maybe .... a whole box sometimes. It really depended on his stress levels.

He was the reason some of his partners were killed and it destroyed him every time he thinks about it. He looks at Meryl and he thinks of those times and he promises she will not add to the casualties. It would be him instead of her that goes.

Remind me to expand on this someday, @phytonomy, I think it's important for a current thread and future threads moving forward. He just strikes me as someone that's been there, done that, and is totally and completely done. He's hanging on by a thread despite having a family.

[martyr-inthedark]

Make your Whumpee tired.

Whumpees that have been deprived of sleep by Whumper, so much so that they don't remember how to walk in a straight line and can't figure out whether the recent appearance of little black bugs in their cell are real or a hallucination.

Whumpees that can't get a full night's rest. They doze off, only to be jolted awake by their own anxiety of not knowing when Whumper would come back. Perhaps they are awakened by phlegm-coated coughs induced by their illness. They are awakened by nightmares, or by Caregiver who is worried they may succumb to hypothermia, or by a thunderstorm, or the rough blanket scratching their open wounds, or so on.

Whumpees who pull all nighters to protect their friends or lovers.

Whumpees whose eyes burn when they finally can close their eyes. Whumpees whose muscles twitch, who can't stop yawning no matter how hard they try to stifle it. Whumpees with dark, glassy eyes. Whumpees who are slow to react or have a hard time keeping up with the conversation. Whumpees with throbbing headaches. Whumpees with brain fog and memory loss.

Whumpees who have been on the run and have over exhausted their bodies. Their muscles and joints continue to scream long after its over. Whumpees with extensive blood loss. Whumpees who are malnourished.

Whumpees whose survivor's guilt keeps them awake, wondering what they might have done differently, whether it was all their fault, or why they were the ones to live.

Whumpees whose bodies are in chronic pain or illness and who have to hide it, causing muscle and mental fatigue. They keep going with a smile until they collapse or pass out.

Whumpees who break down in tears, begging to be left alone so they can rest. Whumpees who sob when they are told that the bed in front of them is theirs to use whenever they want.

[ask-kimerako-therapycarpool]

Man are you letting him get inside your head again? We're literally inside your head but I mean you're letting all these thoughts and worries drag you down so quick when you were laughing a moment ago? It's YOUR head and you're giving it up to him so easily? No wonder he's this bad.

[KO becomes a fair amount of offended.] I didn't let OVK in on my own!! He just... barged in here uninvited!!

But still!

[TKO scowls at the anons.] It will be game over when he put us to sleep for good.

Yeah, yeah. And again... HOW?!?

I already got rid of everyone outside KO loves with all his life!! Why would there anyone important around to protect when there isn't anymore??? You saw what I did out there!! I overloaded again, I was off my rocker, I-I... fell off my wagon...!

TKO...

I... look. I don't get how to want me to do that when I am officially out of things to fight in the real world when my stupid rampage was the reason I left our planet like it is now.

I don't think other mes at therapy will care about that, especially after what I've done...

Wait, you... you don't mean... the entire multiverse???

[stellewriites]

very much inspired by a post i’ll link at the bottom to avoid spoilers

i love putting john price in situations

simon had known price for over a decade, had served under him as his lieutenant for a good portion of it, so he was pretty confident in answering yes when asked if he thought he knew the captain well.

he could acknowledge he wasn’t as close as say laswell may have been, but he knew that price’s wife was not common knowledge around the base either.

he’d pieced it together over the years on missions; catching the odd comment shared over coms; the glint of a ring around his neck; the odd teased mention of her when they sat in the rec room after barely scraping through a tough spot, when price needed the company as well as the silence ghost offered before returning to the real world.

it was how simon knew the sergeants were staying when price let slip about her one day. because he doesn’t let anything slip, wouldn’t, especially about her.

“got anyone at home waiting for you, sir?” gaz asked as he sighed impatiently over the coms, hour three of silently waiting and watching had finally gotten to him.

“i do,” price said simply, not offering any further information. ghost could imagine the amusement tugging at his daft facial hair as price refused to continue without prompting and simon smiled under his mask when he heard johnny scoff next to him before chiming in.

“c’mon sir, give us a wee bit more’n that,” he weedled. “when’d ya meet? is she nice?”

john hummed, the sound low and crackly over the radio in their ears. “met when i moved.”

“oh, a real meet-cute type thing, eh?” gaz teased.

john ignored him. “wouldn’t say she’s nice, soap. she’s more than that. ‘nice’ is your aunt’s new wallpaper; you have permission to shoot me point blank if i start calling her nice.”

“what is she then?” ghost piped up. this was the chattiest john had ever been on the subject and he was going to take advantage.

john went silent for long enough that the three men thought that was it, the end to their sharing session and knowing more about their captain outside of work. simon chewed the inside of his cheek.

“she’s devoted,” john whispered finally before his voice firmed. “heads up, team, movement 2 o’clock. anyone got eyes on the target?”

—

it was months later when she was brought up again, the team thinking. nothing of it until price’s phone pinged in his pocket enough times to pique johnny’s interest as they prepped to leave.

“that the wife, sir?” he asked.

john huffed, didn’t bother checking his phone as he turned and shook his head. “she’s clingy, but she doesn’t bother me when i’m at work.”

“how’d you know?” gaz asked. “could be an emergency.”

“‘n’ how’d you get her to agree tae tha’?” soap followed up quickly, having had issues with his own flings petering out when he was distant and slow to reply.

“been with her long enough now it’s routine,” john said simply. he checked his weapons before heading for the exit. “helo in 5, be air ready.”

—

the mission had gone to shit, and they were stuck hidden in a building that looked like it was 10 seconds away from collapsing under a brisk wind when ghost finally felt his patience snap.

it was no one’s fault, but being stuck in another country with no back up and a target on their backs for an extra three weeks wasn’t ideal and johnny’s insistence on playing cards at every opportunity to keep his idle hands and mind busy combined with gaz’s tinny whistling had made for the perfect scenario to grate on simon’s patience quicker than anything else ever had.

“tell us about her. ya wife,” simon asked, his gaze slipping across to john, watching him pick at his nails. his cuticles were red and raw from four days of agitated fidgeting since they’d ran out of cigars and cigarettes. every so often simon caught him pat his empty pocket before he’d remember and huff heavily through his nose like a bull.

john closed his eyes at the mention of his wife and sighed. he started his description without protest or hesitance. “shes soft spoken. christ, you’d hardly know she was there half the time, she’s so quiet. but she’s firm. stands her ground no matter what,” he chuckled. “don’t think i’ve ever won an argument against her.”

kyle laughed and ghost closed his own eyes, trying to picture what he thought the captain’s wife might look like. pretty certainly, but was she tall, plump, did she have an endearing gap between her front teeth, did she keep her hair short or long?

“she’s a bit of a homebody,” john admitted bashfully, unaware of simon’s drifting thoughts. “but i can’t say i mind it.”

“not wanting to leave the bedroom much when yer back?” johnny joked, hissing when ghost punched his thigh.

john just smiled placidly, eyes still closed. his eyebrows pulled down as he gushed, “god she’s gorgeous in red. wears it every time i come home.”

“lucky bastard,” gaz huffed.

“yeah.” john nodded and finally opened his eyes. “yeah, lucky.”

“you’ll be back with her soon, cap,” gaz reassured him when he saw price swallow thickly.

“thanks, gaz. now who’s taking first watch tonight? soap?”

—

john was quiet on the plane ride home, not unusually so, but ghost noticed the difference all the same.

he was pensive perhaps, worried what his wife would say when he finally got home a month later than scheduled, uncontactable the entire time. ghost could understand to a certain degree that john would have more important things on his mind than what his three subordinates were going to do as soon as they stepped foot on home soil, so he didn’t push when john ignored the few threads of conversation thrown his way by their younger sergeants. instead he nodded when john said a quick goodbye as they all parted ways in the airport.

simon could only assume john was the same all the way home in the cab that dropped him outside of his little three bed house.

he didn’t see however how john hesitated at the door to his home that evening. how he gripped the front door keys tightly in his fist, shook as he stared down at his feet instead of letting his eyes drift and catch on the windows, and felt as though he could crack a tooth from how hard he was clenching his teeth.

he finally opened the door when he thought the neighbours might begin to get worried and stepped inside, flicking on the lights as he went.

it wasn’t until he got to the kitchen that he found her.

stood bare foot, silent, eyes wide and pleading, blood seeping - always seeping. would it ever stop? would the blood ever end? - through her white pyjama top, his top that she’d borrowed for the night, and trickling down her bare legs.

her mouth opened and she visibly struggled for breath, but no sound escaped even as her tongue wagged on the floor of her mouth, lapping at the backs of her teeth as all words escaped her.

he swallowed back bile.

“hello, sweetheart,” he choked out. “sorry i’m late.”

the blood pooled at her feet, the panties she wore were seeped a dark purple from the viscus liquid dying the dark blue material and the shirt stuck to her front. john had remembered loving seeing her like this in a morning, had always thought she looked best in as little clothing as possible.

“i know you hate it when work keeps me busy, but it was unexpected. we were caught—“ a high screech, not dissimilar to that of a whistle that only a dog could hear, pierced through his ears and cut his words short. he curled in and covered his ears, but he knew it would do no good, he should’ve known better than to talk about work around her.

not after what had happened last time he got back late after overtime.

tears prickle at his eyes and the sound abruptly stopped. he’d never questioned why it seemed to be only him that could hear her protests, why his neighbours never mentioned a shrill cry every so often from his home. he had always said she was made for him and that had apparently translated literally into the afterlife.

he looked up at her again - it was best not to ignore her he found. it only made her angry.

“it won’t happen again,” he promised wetly. “i did my best to get back as soon as i could, i promise, sweetheart—“ he choked on his words, biting back a sob. she watched unblinkingly, silent except for the wet squelch of her feet on the laminate.

they both knew he wasn’t apologising for being late this time. he got like this sometimes, when her agonised face and mangled body was too much to bear after a long mission and the guilt bore down like a physical presence.

he couldn’t help but think if he’d gotten home even just an hour earlier he might’ve been able to save her, to have kept her company instead of leaving her on the floor alone and cold, maybe he could have caught the bastards that had hurt her while he was still travelling back from deployment after agreeing to hang back and finish his paperwork there and then instead of emailing it across.

he reached a shaking hand forward and blew out a ragged breath when his hand met nothing but frigid air. but when he brought his hand up to his face he could smell the copper tang of his dead wife’s blood on his skin. the stench unwashable, cloying, but if he concentrated hard enough it ever so faintly smelt like the vanilla perfume she used to wear.

“was telling the lads about you, love,” he forced an empty chuckle as he walked around her to the kettle and went through their usual routine. “think they might’ve fallen a little in love, not that i could blame them.”

he ran a hand over his face and gave himself a moment to let the tears fall as his palm hid his eyes. her silence was the worst part of it all, but he could see the glaring red of her in his peripheral when he dropped his hand to the counter.

it wasn’t pretending his wife was still alive if she was right there at his shoulder, was it?

“looks like i’ll need to grab you some more pg tips, sweetheart,” he said and poured the boiling water into two cups, sparing a glance over his shoulder at his wife. “we’re almost out.”

post link

[kathaynesart]

TMNT AU COMPETITION - CONTEXT COMICS: COMIC 1 - COMIC 2 - COMIC 3 - COMIC 4 - COMIC 5

Don't mind, Omega. He's just being dramatic. Thank you so much @abbeyofcyn and @thegunnsara for pulling me into this hilarious mashup as well as @kittynomore @tapakah0 @hylwicks and @isaacz for letting their characters be a part of it! Figured I would use this opportunity to do my Replica introduction as well!

The @tmntaucompetition has barely even started and I am already overwhelmed by the amount of asks and support I've received! Thank you everyone! There are so many things I want to respond to, but I just don't have the time!

However I am so excited to get to interact with some of you! I'll be sure to respond to a few more that reference Omega directly when I can (looking at you @intotheelliwoods and @karonkar )!

Also, please don't destroy my asks trying to offer chew toys to Donnie... it's too late. His fate has been sealed. He's in autistic robot hell now. Goodnight sweet prince.

Also also, uh... THAT one image? Don't think about it too hard. :)

[zephyrchama]

MC and Thirteen who doesn't want to do her job as a reaper, so when MC's time comes around they start travelling the world instead.

Another reaper finds them sipping drinks out of coconuts on the beach and asks what they're doing. "We just got a bit lost," Thirteen claims. "My legs hurt so we're taking a break. Relax, I'll properly collect their soul in a little bit."

Ok. Fifty years later the same reaper comes across MC and Thirteen taking selfies in a shopping mall.

Thirteen sticks up for MC once more. "We got lost again. No, don't worry about it. I don't tell you how to do your job, so scram and just let me do mine."

Another hundred years ago by. The same reaper shakes their head and tries to ignore the two familiar faces playing hide and seek around the seating area of a major music festival.

[anime-villian-irl]

"id let the world burn for you"

"I'd kill for you"

"id die for you"

"I'd sacrifice the world for you"

BORING!

Yawn snore snore. Honk shoo honk shoo.

I got twelve other guys ready to that for me. You already do that. You already destroy the world I would just happen to be there while you did.

The real question is.

Would you save the world for me?

Would you put aside your hatred for humanity and put my love for it Infront? Would you save the world because I love the world? Would you stop killing because I hate killing? Would you find a way to live because I want you alive?

Death and destruction are easy as hell. Do you know how fucking easy it is to kill someone? To blow up a building? Shure security is in the way but if it wasn't there it would be easy as hell.

You'd do the basics Shure. But would you do the hard thing and save the world because I asked you to?

Would you push aside your hatred of everyone but me because I asked you to nicely?

Would you?

[piratefishmama]

Just ONE chance

Stephanie Harrington never intended to be a whole presence online.

She hadn’t even really understood the whole thing at first, it didn’t exist when she was a kid! An if it did it sure as hell wasn’t in every nook and cranny of the globe like it now seemed to be. Kids with iPads, hands glued to phones, six year olds who simply had to have the latest Apple thing.

It was all Dustin’s idea. King of the Gadget. Overseer of all things technology. Gargantuan nerd. Stevie’s little brother.

Not biologically, Claudia, Dustin’s mother had basically adopted Stevie when her own parents had tragically lost control of the wheel during a storm and wrapped their car around a tree back when Stevie was still a teenager. Back when Stevie was still Dustin’s regular babysitter and very suddenly found herself alone having been babysitting when the news reached her.

They’d been coming back from a business trip that she hadn’t been able to go with them on because of school. They’d been so close to home. She’d heard the sirens. They’d been that close.

It was fine though, in one fell swoop, yes she lost her parents, but she gained Claudia, and Dustin, and that was enough, because she sure as hell didn’t get anything else from them. It was all swallowed up, snatched away by her parents business partners because people are sharks and she just… wasn’t prepared to fight them on any of it, especially not when her parents had stupidly left her without a will.

Apparently they believed they’d live forever! The money vanished, the house was sold, she was left with nothing.

With growing up in the Henderson house, came choices, some great, some really stupid, and some that’d led to the very happy accident of Rosie.

To be fair to herself, she’d been in quite a long term relationship at that point! It was a happy one too! She’d thought he’d be it. Sure he’d been a lot rough around the edges, at the start, it’d been a shame cycle at the beginning since he was in fact, a colossal prick, but he was also the hottest guy she’d ever seen. Like, unfairly attractive considering his personality, and he knew exactly how to touch her to melt her icy resolve into a watery mess.

But once he’d gotten away from his dipshit of a father, his step mother dragging him with her when she escaped the man too, once Stevie had laid down the law of how little of the bullshit he’d learned from said father she’d personally tolerate before he’d get a boot out the door, he’d come around.

The racism had stopped immediately. The attitude had ebbed bit by bit as feelings set in, and he’d become a regular ol handsome teddy bear, he’d allowed himself to soften after he’d escaped the only reason he’d had to protect himself.

He’d even started getting along with his step sister, one of Dustin’s friends.

Then stupidity happened when they ran out of condoms, her cycles stopped, and three months in, two drunk idiots in a pickup ran a stoplight while he was getting her some ice cream. Doctors said he probably hadn’t felt a thing.

Rosie came along, a beautiful little thing, had her dad’s soft cheeks, his stormy eyes, thick dark lashes and soft curls, but she took after Stevie in everything else.

Stevie didn’t date after that. A personal choice really. She’d lost her parents, lost her love, and now she had a little girl to focus on, she was done. She felt herself complete! So what if she was still in her mid-twenties. Life had dealt her a hand, she was going to run with it.

Rosie would always come first, and she didn’t like explaining where Rosies father was, she didn’t like the look of pity on people’s faces, the apologies, the rinse and repeat cycle, and so she just. Didn’t bother!

It was easier! She had Rosie, she had her adoptive mother, she had Dustin, she had Billy’s sister Max and her other half Lucas, she had Susan, she had Robin, her co-worker and platonic soulmate from that dumb job at the mall she’d picked up to help Claudia with the bills, she had a whole support network, and she was fine.

Soon Rosie was in preschool, and then middle school, and the internet became a household thing, houses had computers, kids had phones, then smartphones, laptops, tablets, and suddenly the internet was everywhere and everyone had to be on it.

So there she was now. Mid-thirties, with a little girl, and a house paid for by her little brother.

Dustin had struck gold with a job at NASA, he’d put the downpayment on a little two bed house with a cute picket fence lined garden for her when Rosie was born without consulting her, just did it and “SURPRISE STEVIE, now get the hell out of mom’s basement, Jesus Christ.” Kept paying until it was all hers, and that was that… until he came round with computers and gadgets and then she had the internet because Rosie would need it for school because while libraries were awesome he’d had to suffer the five books at a time, Dustin rule one too many times and the internet had UNLIMITED books.

And now Stevie had a smart phone, and apps, and Instagram was fun! Doomscrolling the FYP took up chunks of her days off work while Rosie was at school! She never intended to be a name on there. She’d heard that people could become known for stuff, go viral or whatever.

She never intended to do that. She was a mother. Not even a hot young mom either. She was in her thirties! She remembered when the world didn’t have internet, she was there.

She posted work out videos, never having lost the competitive streak she’d always had as a teenager, sports were her thing back in high school, Gymnastics specifically, which led into cheering. She’d done some competition once with the team but nothing huge, she was fit, healthy, and the subject of many a thirst comment that she pointedly ignored.

She’d posted the occasional rant about Sally the PTA bitch with the self-proclaimed “best potato salad in the State” while doing her morning makeup, still never paying much mind to the comments section, the little rapidly climbing number that signalled followers, or the occasional DM from brands wanting to ‘collab’.

She didn’t care for that, she just wanted to post her little videos in peace. In retrospect, if peace was what she wanted, the lunch trend… probably wasn’t the best one to pick up. It was just a trend though! She’d seen a few moms doing it! Just posting little harmless videos online of what they’d pack their kids for lunch every day!

Harmless, fun! She loved making Rosies lunches, she saw no harm in sharing the fun!

They were always affordable, packed with healthy options, and creative too! She tried her hand at sushi, Rosie hated it, Robin loved it, so Robin got the sushi rolls in her lunches instead, picked up every morning when she grabbed Rosie on the way into work, they were both going to the same place after all, Robin taking on the music teacher role at the Middle school Rosie attended.

She tried noodle jars, cool wraps, made shapes and fun little animals out of fruit, she got creative, but they were all very cookie cutter videos, they all had the same vibe, similar content, it was something to fill her free time that she enjoyed so never in a million years would she have ever predicted that ONE of them, would cause so much chaos.

It started with the beeping.

The incessant pings sometime in the early hours of the morning. Notifications on her phone going off one after the other until she was forced to sit up, bleary eyed, and stare with squinted eyes at the far too bright screen of her phone, then she silenced it and went back to sleep.

With the chaos of the morning routines, getting Rosie up, washed, dressed, packed up for school, and out the door, she didn’t think about the incessant little beeping she’d silenced. It was a distant memory buried under the fog of a heavy sleep and continued to be a distant memory right up until Dustin appeared at her doorstep at around one in the afternoon midway through her afternoon workout, ruffled, stressed, flustered, and frankly just a little too sweaty.

He bypassed all niceties, as usual, bulldozing straight to the point, he pinpointed her phone, which sat comfortably on the countertop, seemingly oh so innocent, grabbed it, brandished it up as if to highlight its very existence and just “Woman, do you LOOK, AT YOUR PHONE?!”

Now, Stevie was not in the business of accepting a tone like that, especially not from her little brother. No matter how much he’d shelled out for the house, the attitude had to go. “Tone problem you little shit, fix it now or get the fuck out of this house and try again later.”

To his credit, he took a breath, and fixed it “Sorry, I’m sorry, but—look! Look at it, please, for the love of Christ, the internet is freaking out.”

“What?”

“Your video yesterday! The one with the like… teddy bear thing you did? With the rice an the—”

“Rosies lunch?”

“Yeah! Have you seen the comments on it?” Stevie rolled her eyes and went about picking up her things, workout sufficiently disrupted, she wouldn’t be able to pick that pace back up now. “Stevie?”

“You know I don’t look at those, people get weird on the internet, it’s like it gives weirdos the perfect place to be their weirdest selves and not in a good way.” She’d looked at them once, curiosity had gotten the better of her once upon a time and wound up having to ask Max what ‘OF?’ meant. She’d taken the win, let it momentarily boost her self-confidence, and decided to never look again. She was done with all that.

“Stevie, this time… one of those weirdos, is famous.” Since it was the age of the internet, Stevie regarded him with a look of disinterest, ‘famous’ could be anything, it could be some dweeb behind a computer screaming obscenities at a mic hooked up to some ridiculously overpriced gaming PC for likes. It could be a podcast bro with half a brain cell kicking its long since dead other half, it could be—“rockstar famous.” Dustin clarified. “One of the guys from that band I like? Corroded Coffin, they just—” he swiped the phone, letting out a soft scoff as the screen just flicked to life, no security pin to be seen of course, no matter, he’d probably berate later, he had a video to find and—“Ah-hah! Look!” and a phone to once again shove into his big sister’s face.

“That’s not even my video!”

“I know! They took the comment down already, but it’s EVERYWHERE, look!” Someone had screenshots. It wasn’t just one video covering it, Dustin scrolled, another popped up soon after, someone getting a little too excited about what was probably the most unfortunate of accidents.

“Don’t they have like… I dunno, people running their accounts? A person? Maybe their internet person just forgot to log out of that account?”

“No! Eddie runs it! The guitarist? Eddie Munson, he usually runs it all himself so everyone thinks it’s him, AND—AND LOOK!” Dustin clicked on the Corroded Coffin’s account, then tapped on the most recent post. Just a big black square, with the word ‘Whoops’ in big bold white lettering, captioned ‘I regret nothing. Just ONE chance, sweetheart, just one.’ With a little prayer hands emoji. “He’s ASKING you out!”

“He’s being a freak on the internet” hands found her hips, the classic mom pose. Immovable, stubborn.

“He’s always a freak! But he’s really cool! He does like, Make A Wish stuff, and—and visits children’s hospitals dressed up like fantasy characters, and he runs DnD things on the account every few months an he’s just REALLY cool, I mean they’re all really cool but Eddie is really cool maybe—maybe you could—”

“Upend my life, Rosie’s life, for a guy I don’t know, who has a job that takes him all over the world, who probably has his pick of whoever the hell he wants so what exactly could I bring to the table to keep him around? I’m done with all that shit, Dusty… I had my time, I have Rosie, I have everything I need. What makes you think I’d even like him?”

“You liked Billy.”

“Get out.”

“No, wait, not like that, I mean, they’re the same! Well, okay, not the same, Eddie didn’t start out a giant prick an he’s never been racist, but they’re sorta similar, similar music tastes, shit fathers, he’s rough round the edges, lil scary looking sometimes but he’s just a big softie when you get past the whole, scary dog thing. Eddie’s like… if Billy never had a shit dad. I just think that maybe… if you looked him up, maybe you’d… I dunno, you’d like him… maybe he’d be your kind of guy… maybe you could finally find someone who appreciates you… you’re not supposed to be on your own, Stevie.”

“Yeah well, I’m not. I have Rosie, and Robin, an you guys… an y’know. Bob.”

“Bob?” One of her patented looks told him all he needed to know, he jerked back in revulsion “ew! God! Fine, could you just! I dunno, look him up or something? Just think about it, I swear he’s really cool an I’d—”

“You’d love free tickets to their next concert.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Alright then, nice to see you Dustin. Always a pleasure to have you round, please get the hell out of my house.” 

“UggGGGGGHHHHH, STEVIIIIEEE!!!”

“Uggghh, DUSTIIIIN! You interrupted my work out for internet pervert nonsense.” She began shooing him toward the door “Shoo, shoo. I have a family sized bar of chocolate to work off my hips before it gets stuck there.”

“He’d love your hips! With the addition of chocolate bars or not!”

“Weird! Out!” Out the door he went, it closed behind him.

That of course didn’t stop him from yelling through the door, “Just look him up!! I promise you won’t regret it!” But she mostly ignored him, until he went away.

Mostly because… Dustin never spoke up in favour of men before. He’d even gone through a period of hinting at maybe just switching sides and dating Robin when he found out Robin was a lesbian, but both women had promptly shut that down every single time he tried bringing it up.

He wasn’t a huge fan of men.

He’d been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d had a strong female role model in Stevie who’d pushed through every trauma life had thrown at her, he had Robin, he had Max, Jane, Erica, he had Nancy his friend Mike’s older sister, one of his friends had also been raised by a strong independent woman, he’d been surrounded by strong women his entire life with only one real solid male figure.

And that was his middle school science teacher, Scott Clarke. Which was kind of sad when you thought about it.

For him to really vouch for a man, it meant something! It wasn’t something to ignore, even if every instinct Stevie had told her to just. Leave it. What kind of man could a rockstar lifestyle have created. What kind of red flags could Eddie Munson be hiding that Dustin couldn’t (or didn’t want to) see.

Did he really even mean it?

Was it actually Eddie, and not someone else from the band? Would she be seen as foolish for even entertaining the thought? It wasn’t like she’d ever paid attention to the bands Dustin liked, so surely nobody would see her as a weird fan for thinking about it, right? She didn’t even approach him!

He approached her!

Shit like that didn’t just happen though. Or did it? Could it? Was she stupid to even entertain the thought?

Before she knew it, it was time to pick Rosie up, and she hadn’t even finished her work out. it was fine, her hips could handle a chocolate bar. For now. Its days were numbered.

[lizkreates]

Reflection ~A Trigun fan comic~ (Comic Script in the Keep Reading)

Context note: This takes place just after the events of TriMax Vol 10 on Brad’s ship going to December. I’m giving them more time on the trip because Livio grew a full-ass beard between pickup and drop-off (prob because of his healing factor, who knows.) Enjoy!

Vash's coffee is a reference to my first comic Black Coffee & Donuts!

Comic Script for Reflection: A Trigun Fan Comic

PAGE 1

Panel 1: Vash, with his hair down and dressed in his black undersuit, wakes up startled in a cold sweat. He clearly slept poorly bags under his eyes. It’s only been a day or two since he laid Wolfwood to rest.

Panel 2: A full body shot of him stepping out of the bed, his Colt weight down his hip, face obscured.

Panel 3: He leans over the counter in front of a mirror, shoulders hunched, head hanging.

Panel 4: He looks up, hand covering the remaining blonde of his hair so it appears full black. Large pale portraits of Rem and Wolfwood flank Vash on each side in the background.

Vash: Rem, Wolfwood, you both sacrificed everything. Funny isn’t it that I’m beginning to look more like you?

PAGE 2

Panel 1: Vash flashes back to a moment when he and Wolfwood walked side by side in the arid desert of No Man’s Land.

Vash: Wolfwood, you were there every day by my side, now I'm alone again. 

Panel 2: Another flashback to a moment Vash and Wolfwood sat on the edge of a rooftop and looked out over the cityscape to the stars pricking the sky.

Vash: There was so much unsaid between us.

Panel 3: A fresh flashback to the couch, where Vash held Wolfwood's hand in his final moments.

Vash: I wish I had known how to tell you that I loved you before it was too late.

Panel 4: A dramatic crop of half of Vash’s lower face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cries out.

PAGE 3

Panel 1: Livio, a tall, tan, broad-shoulder, white-haired man with a tribal tattoo over his left eye, dressed in a white shirt and black pants, bursts through the bedroom door concerned.

Livio: Mr. Vash, I heard crying, are you okay?!

Panel 2: Vash looks over, a little comically rattled and surprised

Vash: Livio?

Panel 3: Close-up of Vash’s lower face smiling, a tear rolling down his face.

Vash: I’m alright.

Panel 4: A blank Panel, filled with still air

Vash: Actually.

Panel 5: Big Panel, Vash crying into the crook of his arm.

Vash: I'm not... I miss him. I can’t stop missing him.

PAGE 4

Panel 1: Vash rubs the tears from his eyes, Livio grabs his arm shamefully, his body language clearly showing regret and discomfort.

Livio: I’ll uh, leave you to it, and see myself out.

Vash: It’s okay, I just didn’t want anyone to see me like this.

Panel 2: Close-up of Livio looking down.

Livio: It’s better to let yer feelin’s out than to hide ‘em and let ‘em fester, I should know.

Panel 3: Livio turns to the side and a sad snot stream runs down his nose he was trying to keep in. Livio is very much struggling allowing himself to miss Wolfwood. He doesn’t feel like, he should even though he desperately does.

Sounds effects: sniff

Vash: Now who’s keeping in their feelings? Let it out! He was your friend too, wasn’t he? You deserve to cry too.

Panel 4: Livio smiles sheepishly. He wants to make Wolfwood proud of him first.

Livio: Yeah, I suppose he was, all this time. But I don’t think I’ve earned that right yet.

Panel 5: Livio’s stomach growls LOUDLY. Draw in a chibi style, breaking the tension.

Sound effects: grumble

Panel 6: Drawn in chibi style, Vash waves around his noddle arms and Livio’s mood brightens, grinning with excitement.

Vash: Oh, are you hungry?

Livio: Hell yeah, I am!

Vash: What would you like?

Livio: Uh, pancakes!

Vash: Alright, pancakes it is!

PAGE 5

Panel 1: They sit down and eat at a retro 50s-style diner booth in a small nook of the ship. Livio swirls the last of his pancake in syrup on the plate. Vash cradles a black coffee with both hands looking at Livio.

Vash: Hey, Livio, what do you want to do when this is all over?

Livio: Dunno, maybe wander around for a while or return to the orphanage to help make up for what I and the other guy did.

Panel 2: Livio hangs his head, eyebrows worried.

Livio: If I can be honest with ya, I'm scared to face them.

Panel 3: Zoomed out drawn in chibi style to break the tension. Livio shivers.

Vash: Is that scarier than Elendira?

Sound effects: shivers

Panel 4: They laugh.

Livio: Well, when ya put it like, hell no!

Vash: Haha!

Panel 5: Extreme close-up of Livio’s eyes softening as he remembers back to his time at the orphanage.

Livio: I think he’d like that. They were my first real family.

Panel 6: Vash is hit with a sudden realization, Livio has no one right now. In a misty background, he remembers when Razlo cried out after Wolfwood did in Master Chapel.

Vash (internal): Wolfwood, you left Livio in my care... so we wouldn’t be alone.

Razlo (background): ...I’m all alone again!

PAGE 6

Panel 1: Close-up of Vash with the sincerest smile.

Vash: I hope you know you’re not alone. You have me now.

Panel 2: Livio’s face contorts sorrowfully.

Livio/Razlo (internal): I don’t deserve this.

Livio: Mr. Vash I --

Vash: Wait, before you say anything...

Panel 3: Zoom out so we can see both of them and the table. Vash extends his leg as he digs deep into his pants pocket. Livio leans on the table watching him.

Vash: I know that we don’t know each other well yet, but he trusted you with me and I trusted him, wholly and completely, so…

Panel 4: Extreme close-up, Vash pulls out 2 black leather wristbands with silver latches.

PAGE 7

Panel 1: Vash offers Livio a wristband while holding one for himself in the same hand.

Vash: Here. One for you, one for me. I used a strap from his cross to make it, so part of him will always be with us.

Panel 2: Livio puts the wristband on his left hand.

Livio: Thank you.

Panel 3: Extreme close-up of Livio’s non-tattooed eye, tears pricking his lashes.

Livio: I hope one day I can repay yer kindness.

Panel 4: They fist bump wristbands in view.

Vash: Welcome to the family, Livio.

PAGE 8

Panel 1: A large portrait of Wolfwood with his sunglasses and back turned, fills the background, smiling as he holds his cigarette in his hand.

Livio: Hey, Mr. Vash?

Vash: Mm?

Livio: Would you mind tellin’ me a lil more about him… Wolfwood? Ya see, we were close at the orphanage as kids, but I don’t know who he became. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, you owe me absolutely nothin’.

Panel 2: A close-up of Vash’s coffee, Wolfwood’s staple morning drink, Vash’s reflection smiles back, tears in his eyes.

Vash: I’d love to.

PAGE 9

Panel 1: Bonus! Sometime later.  Drawn in chibi style.

Livio: Can I hug ya?

Vash: Sure, buddy!

Panel 2: They hug, Vash smiles, and Livio whimpers as he lets out the waterworks. He’s thankful for Vash’s kindness.

Panel 3: This sets Vash off, who also sobs. They cry in each other’s arms.

[reapcrbunny]

❛ it must be important, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone back for it. ❜

&. 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

( 🐇 ) HER GAZE LIFTS up from her action to tie the bits of twine better 'round her wrist, deflating. when one puts it like that it SOUNDED RATHER IRRATIONAL but . .

< YES I . . IT is the last thing of my mother i have. > she looks down at the hand - carved wooden charm connected to twine that settled itself back around her wrist. it was silly, really, to go all the way back for it but she REFUSED TO LEAVE it there.

IT WAS ALL she had.

< MINE APOLOGIES IN putting you in danger to retrieve it. >

[lilybug-02]

Weird Route...

Spoilers for CT Weird Route below.

Please check tags for anything triggering ❤️

Afterlife...

........

This is not cannon, as the weird route is finished and it will not be added upon. But.......I often find myself wanting to draw for it. So here you are...

The weird route ends abruptly and without art for a reason. I wanted to make it painfully obvious that as YOU continue the route/story YOU stop getting anything out of it. You're only hurting the characters, and by the end, there's nothing left to do except start over.

I had thought of Asriel discovering Chara...well, dead. But I think that would have been too much for the scene. I didn't want to get any more depressing than it already was.

tbh I only hope that I can make an ending even half as good as this one. I still think about it often and I'm proud of the amount of work I put into it.