#dump doc

[yuusaris]

Shadowpeach Doc Dump

Blah blah Macaque has fuckbuddies, Wukong is jealous, I've got a better idea for the same concept and I want this to the side while I work on it.

Enjoy Bratty Wukong.

Macaque gets a letter.

Wukong’s not one to ask before opening mail - there’s no law against it and as King of the kingdom it arrived at, he has the right - so he does. And despite his struggles with reading, even Wukong can comprehend that the attempt is hilariously bad. So much so that he feels even less bad about opening the letter when he shows it to Macaque.

“Someone’s trying to kidnap you with a really bad lie.” Wukong grins, unscrolling it before Macaque’s eyes. Macaque’s eyes widen, face red where it shouldn’t be red as he swipes it from Wukong to get a better look at the embarrassing thing. “They think you’d fall for a dinner invite.”

“It is a dinner invite,” Macaque says. He’s stopped looking at Wukong. “I’ve been invited by them before.”

“Ohh, they’re setting you up, then. That’s underhanded,” Wukong slips to peek from behind Macaque’s shoulder - and is quickly shoved off. “Heyyy!”

“It’s not a set-up - well. Not for.. k-kidnapping.”

Ohhh, he knows that choked sound, the one where Macaque isn’t sure if Wukong will like what he’s saying. And he doesn’t, Macaque’s right, he’s back over his shoulder to examine how far Macaque is willing to lie to his king. 

Not very long.

“Not that kind of kidnapping either--” That kind? When did courting come into the mix? “It’s just - it’s just a fling.”

“Flinging what?” Wukong’s eyebrow raises, the other joining at Macaque's groan of his name. 

“Foir fun.”

“Everything fun is right here. I’m fun, don’t we fling?”

“We do not fling,” Macaque shrugs him off again, more forcefully and begins to walk off. Insulted, Wukong gives a light chase against Macaque’s unusually quick stride.  “Look, I’m going and I’ll be back the day after--”

“A day after?” Wukong’s duress is less perplexed this time. Macaque’s sigh isn’t reassuring.

“The morning after, noon the latest, okay?”

“What is it that you can’t tell me?”

“It’s private!” Macaque squeaks. 

Wukong’s mood drops - there’s hardly any secret-keeping in the troop and to be left out of one is a sore spot he didn’t know he had. 

Not that Macaque and he are the same as the rest of the troop - there are secrets that need to be kept, as royalty. But at the very least, they were always privy to each other. The hidden things were owned jointly by them alone.

Macaque’s sour face evens out, mellow under Wukong’s own hurt. “...Sorry,” He says. “I didn’t mean to snap, it’s just…”  He chews his cheek and doesn’t finish.

“...Back before noon,” Wukong folds his arms. With an overemphasis, he adds “and you’ll be considered pardoned~”

Macaque keys in, overperforms a sweeping bow, meant more for understanding than amusement. “How gracious, Your Majesty.” Macaque pockets the letter, switches conversation to something else Wukong has ‘decreed’ lately - namely, the army’s armor not matching what the dragon kings gave him; stronger metals are prettier and more durable and need to be pilfered - but a stiffness lingers for at least a few minutes longer than Wukong likes.

---------

There is an easy solution, of course - Macaque has yet to see all of Wukongs’ 72 transformations, so he wouldn’t suspect something as innocent and mobile as a sparrow to follow him in the night. Even if Macaque had been invited before, Wukong knows how tricksy demons can be - it’s a testament to their danger, not Macaque’s intelligence, that he feels the need to monitor at least part of this ‘dinner fling’.

He slips through the crack of an open window of the place - nicer than most demons have - just as (honestly, a rather overdressed) Macaque enters the home. 

“Don’t send for me like that again,” is the first thing Macaque says. “He’s nosy as shit - it took a year off my life convincing Wukong to let me come at all.”

His feathers rustle at that. He’s not some tyrant forbidding Macaque from going out. It’s hurtful to hear his worries for his best friend be turned into something so sour.

“And don’t,” Macaque twists, jabs a finger at his host, “make the joke we’re both thinking of.”

Well, Wukong’s not thinking of jokes. When does Macaque have inside jokes with other people? How long has Wukong been away that he’s not privy to Macaque’s other friends? 

Frankly and also - when and how did Macaque learn to make friends at all?

“And kill the mood?” Asks the host (what mood?), “Never.”

Macaque is suddenly bracketed by the larger body, pressed to the wall, with a mouth on his --

Uh. Face.

Macaque’s mouth has another mouth on it. His hands suddenly have hands around them and they are over his head. He has a leg between his -- 

Okay. This kind of fling. The flinging he and Macaque definitely do not do. Will never do. And he implied they do all the time and no wonder Macaque was so upset--

He lingers too long on watching Macaque letting himself get bit, and leaves once the biting starts getting lower than his neck.

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

“Welcome Back!” 

And immediately, Wukong and Macaque both hear how over-enthused Wukong sounded.

“You’re late!”

That one too, especially for a scolding.

“Yyyeah, hard time getting back.” Macaque scratches at the back of his neck--

Nnno. Wukong does not want to think about all of the fucking bruises under his scarf and fur.

--And not looking at Wukong. “Plus, breakfast went late.”

“Oh. Breakfast?” Wukong has also taken up Not Looking. “Sounds good.”

“It was.”

The silence is terrible. Damning, even. Evidence, apparantly, as Macaque’s awkward posture mellows out into something disappointed. “Y’followed me, didn’t you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How much did you see?”

“Uh, I saw reason for me to be concerned about your safety,” Wukong scoffs, with a getsure to the neck. “A random invite sent with the idea that I wasn’t home--”

“You shouldn’t know that.”

Fuck. Cover your ass. “--and you coming back with a covered neck?”

“I always wear this scarf--.”

“This whole thing just smells bad,” Wukong shrugs. “I won’t apologize for wanting my best bud safe and sound.”

“Right, yeah, okay, so here’s what’s gunna happen--”

“Are you limping?” Wukong asks as Macque approaches and then stops and then doesn’t answer. Which is the very wrong move to make after one has confessed a legitimate concern for your safety.

Macaque’s Not Looking intensifies, turning his head down to the floor as he murmurs. “I said I had a hard time getting back.”

“They let you limp back?” Wukong’s properly mad.

“I - I just like the walk--” Wukong dips down, craning his head to stare Macaque in the eyes. Macaque’s shoulders hunch as he folds his arms. “They offered t’take me home,” Macaque’s quiet excuse does nothing for Wukong. “just--”

“--didn’t take it?” Wukong cuts him off.

Macaque’s jaw tightens. “I… didn’t feel like riding with them…. I was sore and they were suggesting--”

“So they took it back?”

“No, but at that point it was awkward because I turned it down--”

“So you limped back.” Wukong says, more seriously, “Because you felt awkward, even though they would’ve done it.” Macaque winces. “Y’know, that actually is stupid.” His friend doesn’t have an answer. “If you saw someone like King of Confusion limping home, what would you think to do?” 

“You’re not my dad--”

“Worse, I’m your friend.”

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 19 prompt : zombie

rated: T | cw: none | tags: post s4, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, Steve is giving

📼📼📼📼

Eddie knocks on Steve’s door at exactly 7pm, precisely when he said he would.

Partly because he’s been looking forward to watching his favourite film again all week. And, well, mostly because he’s been looking forward to watching his favourite film alone with Steve all week. He set enough reminders and planned his day ahead so he’d be right on time.

Steve opens the door a few seconds later, soft and glowing in his glasses and yellow sweater.

Time alone with Steve is still something Eddie can’t really believe is real. Let alone when the guy listening to his rants and actually, genuinely seems interested in what he has to say.

‘Hey Ed’s.’ He says and Eddie bows slightly, presenting his prized VHS of ‘Night of the Living Dead’, the one he found in Indi months ago and hasn’t stopped being obsessed with since.

‘Come on in then.’ Steve smiles at Eddie’s seriousness, walks him towards the low cozy light of the den with a hand on his lower back. ‘I’ll just get us a soda.’ He says softly, leaving Eddie to put the movie in and sit with the tingles that are travelling up his spine.

‘So this movie is, like, a big deal then?’ Steve asks as he comes back in and sits down. Handing Eddie a coke.

‘It is a big deal! He reimagined and reinvented a whole genre of horror. It’s like, it’s actually culturally significant yeah?’ Eddie says, swinging his coke around and darting his eyes around the room.

He looks to his side. Steve staring at him with his head resting in his palm, little smile on his face. ‘Go on.’ He says.

‘So yeah.’ Eddie swallows and shifts, tugging at his shirt. ‘It was released in the 70’s along with some other movies like Pink Flamingos by John Waters and fuckin Eraserhead and Rocky Horror Picture Show dude. Seriously weird shit. And they travelled around and screened late at night. So basically only freaks and weirdos went to see them. But that was perfect because these movies were made by and for freaks and weirdos, you know?’ Eddie finishes, buzzing with excitement.

‘I know now.’ Steve says softly, still looking at Eddie with his little please smile.

Eddie blinks, feeling too hot under Steve’s gaze. ‘Yeah so, anyway, it’s super important that you watch this, I mean you work at Family Video and Halloween is next week. You gotta know the fundamentals Stevie.’

Steve nods and Eddie watches his hand as he presses play. They both relax back against the sofa, Steve scooting a little closer and putting his arm across the back cushions. Eddie tries not to act weird. Tries to focus on the movie, he loves this movie.

But he can feel the heat radiating off of Steve’s chest. Can hear his breathing and smell his cologne.

He can feel his horrendously huge crush for the guy banging at his rib cage, begging to be let free.

But, it really is his favourite movie, so it engrossed Eddie in the end, the thrill of the story unfolding in that little wooden house never gets old.

But then the soft flannel of Steve’s pyjama pants is pressing against Eddie’s jeans. And Steve’s warmth is getting closer, the arm on the sofa shifting to around Eddie’s shoulders. ‘I know you said it was a horror but, it’s kinda spookier than I expected.’ Steve whispers to Eddie in the near darkness. So close now he’s sure Steve must be able to feel the rapid beat of his heart.

Eddie almost pulls away. Too afraid by the potential, by the what if of it going all wrong, of everything he has with Steve falling apart in his fingers. But he’s seen Steve on a battlefield, he’s seen Steve by his bedside in hospital. He’s seen steve in so many ways, and each one is the bravest thing he’s ever known.

So, Eddie decides to be brave too, he leans in close and wraps a protective arm around Steve’s waist. ‘I got you.’ He says, serious. ‘Won’t let the zombies hurt you.’ And he watches Steve’s smile grow, teeth glinting in the light of the television.

Eddie’s cheeks are on fire. But there’s no place he’d rather be, as Steve settles with his head on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie holds on for dear life.

‘Night of the living dead’ is definitely the best movie ever made.

📼📼📼📼

Tag list : @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @marvel-ous-m @thecatkingsthrone

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots @chameleonhair

[celestecreation]

There's a new shirt in roblox It's called the pickle rock shirt

[javsarts]

I had this lying around in my IPad, so might as well share it 😂

Here’s a bunch of sketch of my Half-Drow Durge;

Balehrys Baenra’hel ;Oathbreaker Paladin (former Oath of Vengeance Paladin of Tyr)

Random Facts:

Known titles are: Oathbreaker/Chosen of Bhaal/ The Dread Knight/ Sir Daisy Dewdrop Fluffington

Has mismatched eyes; Lolth Red on left, and Elf Gold at the right.

Intelligence Stat was greatly reduced upon having a dagger shoved at the back of his head.

“Bal”in his name is often used for female drow, but since he was named by a foster parent who has limited knowledge on Drow naming customs, mistakenly made it “Bal” instead of the male prefix which is “Bel”

He’s not a multi-classed bard, he just likes his flute (it makes the voices in his head go away)

I know the game doesn’t allow you to start as an Oathbreaker, but I always HC him starting as one and always had been one during his Pre-BG3 days.

[0xeyedaisy]

Random stuff

[gorefix]

HOST. A flag for headmates who are the most active, most responsible for day-to-day activities, or otherwise are fronting most often.

This is a redesign of the host flag to better suit our collective.

[klaissance]

a story in three parts

[simbii]

Reblogs over likes

[heliosynchronisity]

i see ppl looking thru my cy/doc ock stuff 👀

i was just looking thru my sketches uploading stuff to toyhouse and while seeing my pile of self insert/doc ock stuff is a LITTLE post-drunk-blackout horrifying... at the same time... i was right. So ima compile them all into one post for ur viewing pleasure for u ock freaks uwu

so here's all my cyber and doc ock doodles I made between 2022 and 2023 :] and roughly in chonologiccal order

tbh i do still often think of these guys, if i have some time i may draw them soon and even attempt to work on the fic. but no promises. I'm finally out of my art funk and i dont wanna overwhelm myself haha.

So for now, enjoy the trip down memory lane ^_^

[yuusaris]

Doc Dump - Almost And Enough (Shadowpeach, Lego Monkie Kid)

I have SO MANY irons in the fire right now, and this is something that has to get cut and will not be used in this particular fic. Woe, shadowpeach be upon ye

[So, I'm working on apiece taking place with Wukong in the broken scroll having to re-play his memories up to present day, but every deviation gets him sent back to Start, the curse not truly able to manifest in it's usual way. The ones with Macaque are the most difficult for him because of how differently he sees and feels about Macaque now.

Our Wukong is depicted by (Wukong) and any Wukong acting within the proper narrative is simply Wukong. The way that Tang and Pigsy and Sandy were stuck in their past lives - because Wukong has that self-knowledge to him, he's kind of able to weave between letting it happen while maintaining his awareness of himself, and being able to step in if he feels he needs to, or wants to re-establish control for himself.

This cut follows after a scene with a Drunk/Potentially-Not-Actually-Drunk Macaque at a Brotherhood banquet trying to elicit a kiss from a decidedly less drunk in-timeline Wukong, who is getting very uneasy vibes about it, despite the fondness for Mac's attention.

So, why are we cutting this?

A) I dislike how I wrote Wukong here - even for a younger self, I found this a little too hesitant and nervous. Even at his most uneasy, Wukong isn't one to stutter or lose his words, I was gunna imply maybe he was starting to feel the alcohol himself,but that just didn't pan out well.

B) I feel Macaque's a little too devious here, too unapologetic about manipulating Wukong at a point in his life where he is very much at beck-and-call. He's showing his hand a bit too fully as well, and I found it made for a distasteful character in a way I feel is out of character for /that period/ of Macaque and Wukong's relationship.

C) it didn't move. The end result we have here comes to a decided dead end and any attempts to move it passed this felt forced or unnatural and that is because this movement isn't the strongest I can make it. I have a better idea in mind to replace this sequence with, I'm not pressed.

Things I like, though?

I like the banter I got down for that intimate bit. I like how I wrote Azure, I think I nailed conveying disapproval without giving an implication that he feels anything for them - that being interpreted is different from my intention, after all - which does lend for this rather irksome Protector Syndrome that throws a wrench in things for these two, you get the idea that the mood is dead because Azure is this insistant and the inexperienced/manipulated Wukong is not weighing his situation well.

That being said - I do hope you enjoy]

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

Macaque blinks, his sadness turning sour. His tail drops off Wukong’s waist, not in an ordinary disappointment, but one Wukong can still rectify. He grabs Macaque's arm before he can stand to storm off (“I’ts only--”), which he promptly shakes off. 

Wukong can’t just watch him stumble off. He slips away from the feast and catches up to Macaque. “It’s only cuz you’re drunk.” He shakes the word in a show of seriousness, a show of care. 

Macaque’s eyes roll then screw shut to avoid Wukong’s gaze. “What a hero.” 

He jogs further in order to be in front, to speak to his face. “I just meant--”

“I know what you meant.” Macaque sounds almost entertained by how badly the night turned out, as if this should’ve been predictable. 

(Wukong knows now it was.)

“-- that was intense,” Wukong presses. “I mean, specifically asking me to--”

“I knooww,” Macaque’s tilting tone is that of an overlectured student.

“Just cuz you don’t think you’re that drunk, doesn’t mean you’re not that drunk.” Wukong slows his erratic pace when Macaque does. He looks at Wukong with surprise (the same surprise Wukong’s feeling for himself) “Don’t gimme that look - a sober Macaque wouldn’t have tried that even if we were alone.”

(I really caught that?)

“--Doesn’t mean we should… overdo anything we--” Wukong stutters, “--that we, uh.. Would.. Think is smart to do. Y’know, sober or not.”

Of all the times Wukong’s tongue goes lax - this would be the one.

“Y’know because - I mean, it’s not like I’m not gunna want to…” The words stick to his throat. “Not that I'm saying you’re not attractive or - or weak…  I like you -- beeeiiing forward. In general, I mean. Taking initiative, And the. ..banter was… it was, it was--”

He’s grabbed by his tunic knot. Macaque pulls Wukong close as he falls back against the solid stone of the mountain. To keep from toppling, Wukong brackets him with his arms. 

“...Oh,” Wukong is breathless, feverish at Macaque’s grip on his clothes, keeping him this close. “This is… this’s.. Ah…”

Really happening, His mind races. Finally happening.

Wukong looks at Macaque, his shadow, bathed in the light of a night sky too bright to compare him to, a failure in its own right. Stars that only shine worthily when glinting off his teeth, and if a hero and a warrior are the sun and the moon, then where is the second hero to account for Macaque’s second eye?

Sounds fall out of him - “Okay.” 

Wukong gets that prey feeling again when Macaque chuckles darkly. The corner of his mouth presses into a smile. “Just okay?” 

For a moment, Wukong’s nerves even out, the excitement can rush through without spinning him. 

 “...Better than okay.” Wukong leans in, something wry on his face as he gets close to Macaque, close enough to smell plum wine and a musk only furr can cultivate. Macaque pushes up.  “Much better than okay.”

He grips Macaque’s arm, between the elbow and shoulder, and gives a squeeze that’s permission and plea. Macaque’s move to his neck, gripping the hair and fur close enough to his fingers. 

Macaque leans.

Wukong pulls.

Someone coughs.

Both their heads whip soundward, and Azure Lion stands with a fist to his mouth.

“I - apologize for interrupting,” he says. “But Macaque seemed upset when you two left.” His brow raises. “Is everything okay?”

“...Yeah?” Wukong’s eyes shift to Macaque, “Yeah, we’re, ah--”, then back to Azure, “--we’re figuring it out.”

“I can see that,” Azure says. “But, it does look concerning.”

“You did say to take it inside,” Macaque helps (and it’s so blatantly smug, Wukong could choke on it).

“This isn’t inside,” Azure says (with a tone so stony, Wukong feels crushed for another five hundred years.)

(Talk about a rock and a hard place, and Wukong’s idiot baby-self caught between them doesn’t realize he can’t move).

“We’re not fighting,” Wukong interrupts. Azure’s posture doesn’t change. Through grit teeth, his friendly tone weakens, “we’re not. Fighting.”

Curb your Big Brother Complex, his friends lack of belief is like an arm's worth of pinched nerves. And take the hint. (You take the hint! Wukong wants to shake himself.)

Still, Azure looks the two of them over. Slowly, he smiles the tiniest fraction, relaxing. “Well, as long as that’s so. But we do need you both back at the table.”

“Do you?” He asks with a tinny strain. 

“It’s important.”

“Is it so crucial a strategy that you can’t come back later?!” (Wukong) blurts. Azure sputters, and Macaque’s grip is tighter and moves. “Just - for five minutes, I’m not asking for - I am so close to--” 

Wait. 

Nothing went sideways.

This was what happened.

(He didn’t kiss Macaque)

(He doesn’t need to kiss Macaque)

“--Damnit,” (Wukong) seethes, touching his head to the stone wall in frustration. “Damnit, damnit, just--”

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

“---yeah,” He groans, falling onto the pieces of stone shell. “Yeah, that’s-  Yeah. Sure. Fuck. Damnit.”

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

“--we do need you both back at the table.”

“Do you?” He asks with a tinny strain. 

“It’s important.”

“Is it?” Wukong’s voice stretches thinner -  he yelps when the hand in his hair fists, tightly.

“We need to know when to strike,” Azure, ever diligent, pushes this point.

[That is in fact it, I cut this early.]

[kaisollisto]

(Based off of the reality of having a metal ring in your back as a constant reminder of your fate and how that affects you as a person set in the Switzerland arc)

“Does it hurt?” 

Ava’s pressed face down into the pillow sleep curling around her limbs. She hums, she can’t remember what she says, she’s exhausted. Her arms are tangled beneath her pillow. She holds her fingers tightly between each other, her bones ache from the pressure but her hands no longer shake. Ava hasn’t experienced this before, a fear that haunts her at night. (She finds she cannot stop dreaming about dying. It’s stifling in the cover of night trying to figure out where she is.) 

She slowly opens her eyes and squints in the darkness. Beatrice is facing her a furrow in her brow that Ava knows she’s doing unconsciously. Ava’s lip quirks a smidgen, Beatrice looks funny. It’s a bit silly to her, Beatrice no doubt working out a solution to an unknown problem that Ava has yet to see in the middle of the night. In her sleepy state she wants to laugh at the imaginary cogs churning in Beatrice’s head. 

Beatrice scooches closer and Ava panics, her skin can taste the dust of Bea’s forearm. She hoists herself up on her elbows, turning to face Beatrice. “Wha?” Ava’s shaking off bits of sleep from her mouth when Beatrice repeats herself. 

“Does the Halo hurt?” 

She doesn’t know if she wants to answer that. Ava peers over Beatrice squinting at the harsh light of the digital clock on Beatrice’s side. Ava loves it, it reminds her of the early 2000’s and the aesthetic of waking up to an alarm to go somewhere. The clock blinks an innocent 1:43 Am, and Ava debates on letting her head thump back down. 

She turns her body on her side, she can feel the halo shifting in her back and it makes her want to throw up. The sides of the halo press against her shoulder blades and Ava resists the urge to yank it out. She grits her teeth and settles ignoring the skin of her back pulling tight to accommodate for the ring. Beatrice is still expecting an answer and Ava can’t lie to her, she pulls the covers of the sheet up to her chest hoping to bide more time for an answer. 

"Everything hurts Bea," Ava smiles, "getting my ass handed to me is hard work."

Beatrice frowns displeased but looks at her through her lashes, it's unguarded, the stress and worries of the world stay out of their room in the dead of night. Her lashes are so pretty and Ava wants to curse the soft glow of the moon. There’s just enough moonlight to illuminate her eyes but overshadow her freckles. Ava swallows down the taste of defeat, she can’t win, she thinks. 

Her gaze is soft, Beatrice is looking at her and it’s different yet the same. The same feeling in her chest constricting her lungs, the same soft gaze of Beatrice. Beatrice who likes what she sees in Ava when Ava can barely see where she begins. She doesn’t like to dwell on it, the truth of the matter being what belongs to Ava.

If she closes her eyes she can pretend just a little longer. She can give herself the hope of the future and what comes after all this. She can put down the fighting and the artifact and live. Ava doesn't want to think about it anymore, at least not tonight when Beatrice is here with her. 

Beatrice is soft. She knows it from hours and hours of training. She's felt it when Beatrice corrects her form, in the way she talks. She speaks from a place of care like she has turned the harsh words in her brain over and over to soften the syllables spoken to Ava. And Ava doesn't linger on it, the meaning behind it, (Ava didn't think she'd make it this far, finding a person who cares quite like Bea does.)

And Ava's got it bad, she knows she's fucked because Beatrice doesn’t say anything about her language and Ava can't not tell her the truth. She looks down, her hand fiddling with the bed sheet underneath them. 

"It doesn't hurt," if she thinks about it she can feel the fibers of the cotton between the pads of her fingers. "But it's very uncomfortable." She doesn't want to find the response in Beatrice's eyes, content to hear it from her voice. The soft British lilting accent that holds her just as soft as a touch. 

She waits, she can picture Bea’s mannerisms with her eyes closed but maybe she should check just to be sure. Ava peers up at Beatrice and she’s suddenly closer. Her eyes really are pretty, there’s a depth to them that Ava wants to spend an ungodly amount of time studying.

“Can I help?”

[oobbbear]

I think the reason I’m learning anything rn is to make my oc story more digestible so people can eat it

[the-solitary-child]

Kipperlily Copperkettle analysis, this is a long one so click read more to read all of it.

Kipperlily Copperkettle. Halfling Rogue. 

The Model Minority.

Her parents work good jobs, respectable jobs. One of them is a realtor, they are charismatic and good with words and they work hard. Hard for their family, hard to keep things in order. The other works in bastion city, away from home and with the council of chosen. A noble job, one that is met with praise and awards. It is a good job, a respectable job for the greater good.

Her family is good. Her family is picture perfect, with two parents and a kid and a white picket fence.

She must be perfect, for her sake, for her parents sake. Halflings are kind. Halflings are sweet. They get along with everyone. They are peacemakers, so much so that humans and elves could come and take solace from them. Years of bloody history and violence brews in her veins, and she is supposed to be complicit and smile and act kind. She does so for her parents sake, with a slicked back ponytail and a perfect uniform and a smile too big, too unnerving.

I’m sure people tried to dissuade her, telling her that she wouldn't find more comfort in something different? Maybe a job as a clerk or a secretary, or an artificer so she could help build things for people. She has her mind set though, with her nails digging into her palms to control the bitter rage that boils in her as she is only ever underestimated. 

High school starts and it's supposed to be a new beginning. She will find her party, and she will make friends. And she does, sort of. The High Five heroes she calls them, setting herself up as the leader. She has to take control of everything. They don't really listen to her though. Oisin and Ivy are immediately their own little duo, as are Ruben and Lucy, although Lucy has made a point to include Kipperlily too, and Mary Ann just acts uninterested in everything thus far. She has to make sure everything is perfect. A fight happens during the first day of school. It results in two students death, and makes the principle commit murder suicide on both himself and the counselor in order to bring two students back. Maybe that's where it started, the jealousy and the burning hatred and the obsession. Maybe it started a little earlier that day, when Riz handed out his business cards, and Kipperlily took it. Saw his name, maybe even wanted to be friends at first. Maybe he was too busy with the case of missing penny luckstone, maybe he was too busy with the friends that seemed to care about him. Maybe Kipperlily was jealous that his party actually cared about him, whilst hers only tolerated her at best.

I think that's where it started. The jealousy, the obsession. Her anger got worse, nails digging into skin and drawing blood. She is just so angry. She has always been angry, rage and spite boiling in her blood. Her parents said she came into the world not crying but screaming, like existing in this very world hurt her. She studied him. She learnt everything about him as the year went on and she felt shame. Burning, red shame. She started seeing the new counselor in hopes of getting help. She knew this wasn't normal. She was just so angry and had nothing to do with all this rage and fury. So she talked about it, how she was jealous of him. How he got the perfect adventurers story, a dead dad and a party full of people who cared. Her parents were normal. They were perfect, blended in perfectly. They were kind and sweet and polite and possibly never home because they have busy jobs. Busy respectable jobs. They were respectable people and nothing more because the world would never allow them to be anything more.

One way or another, Porter hears of a halfling rogue with rage in her veins. One way or another he approaches her, tells her that he will help her. He sees her potential, he sees just how great she can be. Kipperlily believes him. She trains with him, learning from him, hooked on to every word of praise he gives her. She is special, she is meant for something great, this school is just unfair and hands out blatant favoritism and she has to stop it. 

Kipperlily takes the rage star, lets it fall into her chest and every petty grudge, jealousy and dislike simply turns to wrath and hatred. She gets her party to join her too, leveling them up with the help of porter and jace. She kills them. She stands over their bodies as rage stars are forced onto their chests. As their corpses are violated and they are brought back just as angry as she has always been. Kipperlily feels no guilt, this is what she is meant to do Porter tells her. She is meant to bring greatness.

Lucy is the only one who doesn't come back. That hurts her, in a way different to anything she has ever felt. Lucy always had her back, always had her side when the party was ganging up on her. Lucy was the only one who understood what it was like to be put down and underestimated. But..she stayed dead. She decided being dead was better than being with her. 

Kipperlily tries to move on but sorrow and rage just burn deep within her.

The rest is history. But one thing is clear, rage has always festered in the heart of Kipperlily, and when she tried to get help, when shame burned in her veins at how childish her rage and jealousy was, she was failed by the people she was supposed to trust. Her rage was used as a weapon, both against her and against others. She was told she would do great things, that she is special and her spite and jealousy was used in order to get her to do things had her teachers not failed her, maybe she wouldn't have done.

Kipperlily will forever have the blood of her friends, of her party members, on her hands. She will never get rid of that shame, it will stain her hands, it will stain her legacy. She is nothing more than a villain in the history books now, when in reality she was a teenage girl who was failed over, and over again. She was a teenage girl who felt rage, and felt ashamed of her rage because she was told she needed to be kind, complicit. A sweet halfling girl, something she never was and never will be. 

[orangehalfpeeled]

a treat before i go to bed <3 !!!

[darling-leech]

If anyone has any(and I mean ANY) headcanon(s) for The Elder Scrolls universe, pls reblog/comment on this post.

No matter how small or insignificant you think your headcanon is, pls feel free to infodump. PLEASE.

*please note when I say ANY headcanon tho, pls don't add any bigoted ones, just thought I'd clarify that when I said you can add any HC. Tho this should be obvious, just thought I'd mention it.*

[sketchyandsketches]

Oops uni started and i forgor to post some things I did over the month :')

Have Obba in the version who raised Luke :D