#hoping to god this works and i can run it as if the disc is in my laptop to rip it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

akiumzeno · 1 year

Text

Update on Survivor Ye-jun

After uploading to the disc server, I've been getting suggestions to make him more balanced so his perk is changed up a bit.

Perk

Ye-jun can click on another survivor’s icon to make them Concealed. When a survivor is Concealed, it will raise their undetectability to 75%. Whenever the Concealed survivor avoids detection, Ye-jun gains a stack which gives him an extra 10 points of stamina. Ye-jun has a max of 5 stacks at a time and loses the stack once the stamina is used up but can regain it.

However, if the Concealed survivor does get detected, the detection stays for the Concealed survivor 15 seconds longer than usual. This ability can only be used on one survivor and cannot be transferred if the survivor dies and the perk disappears once Ye-jun dies.

(He now gets 10 stamina instead of 20.)

“No one is going to find you. Don’t worry.” - Ye-jun Im

Stats:

Speed: 8/10

Stamina: 7/10

Stealth: 3/10

Composure: 3/10

Repair: 2/10

Healing: 7/10

(He now has 8/7 chase stats, 2 repair and 7 healing. People said he'd be too busted if he had high repair and high chase + good perk. So in compensation, his healing became higher. He also has his stamina lowered since his perk already helps him get stamina + his speed as well for more balance. So his stats are very similar to Nathan's now.)

Voicelines:

“Run away!”

“5, 6, 7 and 8!”

“I wonder how Dae is doing…”

“I’m not an obsessive freak, don’t look at me like that.”

“You never know who is looking.”

“Can’t find them, now can you?”

Quotes:

(His memories have been severely changed so now his voicelines are changed to fit new aspects of him. He doesn't have many voicelines when picking up certain survivors bc he's now in the social ranks of Yeona of not being liked by the other survivors since the other survivors are convinced that Survivor!Ye-jun is the same as Killer!Ye-jun but is keeping up his facade to remain in his relationship with Dae-jung with a few exceptions.)

Picking Up Ally:

Dae-jung (Alternate Universe Skin)

[Ye-jun]: “Guess I’m going to have to be your knight in shining armour.”

[Dae-jung]: “Aren’t you always that though?”

[Ye-jun]: “Please, don’t go just yet.”

[Dae-jung]: “No need to worry, sweetie. I’m not going anywhere.”

[Ye-jun]: “I’m here now.”

[Dae-jung]: “And I couldn’t be happier.”

Dae-jung

[Ye-jun]: “Hang in there, Dae-jung! I’ll get you back up!”

[Dae-jung]: “Oh… Thank you, I suppose.”

[Ye-jun]: “So, the whole you know…”

[Dae-jung]: “I’d rather not talk about it.”

Yeona

[Yeona]: “Thanks, Ye-jun!”

[Ye-jun]: “No worries. We gotta move.”

[Ye-jun]: “Ooh… They got you good.”

[Yeona]: “Yeah… I’m fine though.”

[Ye-jun]: “You can still keep going, right?”

[Yeona]: “Of course!”

Eman

[Ye-jun]: “It’s not too suffering to be around her, right?”

[Eman]: “I’m used to it.”

Aaaqil

[Ye-jun]: “Why don’t you say anything to him? Perhaps it’ll be just nice to just get the feelings out. It’ll be cathartic.”

[Aaaqil]: “Thanks, but I’m not too sure about that.”

Crosby

[Ye-jun]: “Just so you know, I also know what it’s like to be in a forbidden relationship. If you need it, you got someone to talk to.”

[Crosby]: “Thank you! And I hope things work out for you!”

Rayner

[Ye-jun]: “Just so you know, I also know what it’s like to be in a forbidden relationship. If you need it, you got someone to talk to.”

[Rayner]: “Much appreciated, friend.”

Cora

[Ye-jun]: “Safe to say I returned the favour.”

[Cora]: “I suppose so.”

Nathan/Jun

[Ye-jun]: “You’ve got to teach me how you take hits like that.”

Javier

[Ye-jun]: “Hey, Dae’s other boyfriend.”

[Javier]: *insert response*

General

[Ye-jun]: “Don’t worry. You aren’t staying down.”

[Ye-jun]: “Hold still. I’ll help you up.”

[Ye-jun]: “Dae could probably teach me little more about this…”

Picked Up By Ally:

Dae-jung (Alternate Universe Skin)

[Dae-jung]: “Don’t worry, sweetie! I got you!”

[Ye-jun]: “Thanks, boo.”

[Dae-jung]: “Please don’t die on me, Ye-jun!”

[Ye-jun]: “I wouldn’t even dream of it, Dae.”

[Dae-jung]: “Oh god, that looks real bad.”

[Ye-jun]: “It doesn’t hurt much. Not when you’re here.”

Dae-jung

[Ye-jun]: “Take your time. You don’t have to rush.”

[Dae-jung]: “Thanks, Ye-jun.”

[Dae-jung]: “It still feels weird to do this with you.”

[Ye-jun]: “I’d imagine.”

[Dae-jung]: “It’s like looking into the past…”

[Ye-jun]: “I’m sorry.”

Yeona

[Yeona]: “Ye-jun! I got you!“

[Ye-jun]: “You’re a life saver. Quite literally.”

[Yeona]: “When do you think they’ll start liking me?”

[Ye-jun]: “I don’t know. It’s probably happening sooner with you than me.”

Yronica

[Yronica]: “You practically drool when you look at that boy.”

[Ye-jun]: “Gee, I could say the same for you with that green-haired girl.”

Cora

[Ye-jun]: “Hey, it’s you!”

[Cora]: “Hello again. Not doing so well, huh?”

Survivor Died:

Dae-jung (Alternate Universe Skin)

[Ye-jun]: “DAE!!! PLEASE, ANSWER ME!”

[Ye-jun]: “No… Don’t leave me! Please…!”

[Ye-jun]: “No, no…! I should’ve helped! I should’ve…!”

Dae-jung:

[Ye-jun]: “I swear when I see that guy…”

[Ye-jun]: “You son of…”

Last Survivor:

[Ye-jun]: “There’s no one else?”

[Ye-jun]: “Time to get serious.”

[Ye-jun]: “Alright, I can do this no problem.”

Chase:

The Idol

[Killer!Ye-jun]: “So you’re dating Dae-dae… You wouldn’t mind trading places, now would you?”

[Survivor!Ye-jun]: “You better not get close to him! I’m not afraid to throw hands!”

[Killer!Ye-jun]: “So it’s true that he does love me! I knew it! He’s just in denial!”

[Survivor!Ye-jun]: “He’s not loving you with that behaviour!”

[Survivor!Ye-jun]: “You’re sick in the head! What kind of monster are you?!”

[Killer!Ye-jun]: “You’re me and I am you. How come I am the monster?”

[Killer!Ye-jun]: “I don’t care if you’re me! I’ll get rid of anyone standing between me and Dae!”

[Survivor!Ye-jun]: “No one is standing between you two! He’s not with you because you messed up!”

The Showstopper

[Ye-jun]: “Fame has its drawbacks, you know!”

[Jules]: “Not that you’d know the joys. You were only in spotlight for a mere boy.”

[Ye-jun]: “Wh— That’s not true!”

The Ghost

[Kiara]: “You love to dance? I do too! You seem like my type of person!”

[Ye-jun]: “Then this is going to be fun!”

General

[Ye-jun]: “I can dance and sing for hours on end! This is nothing!”

[Ye-jun]: “Get ready to dance with me!”

Escaped Chase:

The Idol

[Ye-jun]: “What in the world did I become?”

[Ye-jun]: “Why did I do that? What happened with me?”

Backstory:

Ye-jun grew up in a well-off family that provided him with everything he could have ever needed. He knew he had it better than everyone else. He could have anything he wanted yet there was always this jealousy that existed inside of him.

Because of this, as a kid, Ye-jun was the most stuck-up and spoilt brat you could’ve ever laid your eyes on. He whined whenever another kid had something he wanted, whether it was a toy or candy. Although people weren’t that surprised of his behaviour considering his upbringing, he still got scolded on it. And Ye-jun began to understand that this behaviour was wrong.

As Ye-jun grew up, he became nicer. He tried to be polite to others and treat others respectfully. But even still, there was always that jealous and envious feeling inside himself. To have, to own. Ye-jun recognised these feelings and never understood them. He already had everything and the best of everything at that, why did he want more?

Ye-jun tried to ask teachers and other adults on what he should do with these feelings and Ye-jun gained a suggestion to instead give and be generous instead of feeling jealous. So Ye-jun followed it. Whenever he got a jealous thought about someone, he would instead try to do something nice for them, whether it was helping out with their homework or buying them a snack.

Students loved this and everyone soon knew him as a helpful person. Although it kept the feelings low and controllable, it did still exist within Ye-jun. But the feelings came at an all-time high when he met someone.

Dae-jung Pak.

He was also someone known to be a social butterfly and he just could click with others so naturally. He was so likeable, so genuine, so optimistic, so caring… But for some reason, Ye-jun wasn’t jealous of him. He didn’t want anything he had, materialistic or otherwise.

But he did want him. He wanted him bad. And that want spilled onto others. Whenever Dae-jung talked with others and acted like his normal, cheerful self, Ye-jun gained this insatiable feeling that he wanted that person to go away. He didn’t want anyone else to have him. But Ye-jun hated it. He hated the feeling. So he only did what was the natural instinct. Giving.

He tried to helpful to Dae-jung’s friends and even to Dae-jung himself, although he helped out Dae-jung because he genuinely felt like helping him out. Eventually, he soon became a part of Dae-jung’s social circle and they were practically inseparable. And although he had feelings for Dae-jung and knew it, he was never sure if he could ever confess. What if he’d just ruin everything between them? He didn’t want that. So he kept his feelings, like he always did.

One day, Dae-jung was thinking about auditioning to be an idol and all his friends encouraged him to try out, including Ye-jun. Dae-jung listened to them and he ended up getting in. But when he found out, Ye-jun soon realised that Dae-jung would never have any time with him to do his idol business. And selfish as it was, Ye-jun didn’t want that so he tried to audition as well, in a desperate attempt to stay with Dae-jung.

To his surprise, he got in. And soon, the two were going to be idols together.

After years of training, their group, STAR*STRUCK, made its debut and they became big. People loved them. Ye-jun and Dae-jung were soon big stars alongside their two other members Byung-ho and Han-gyeol. They were doing fan-meetups, making albums, even getting presents and letters from their fanbase. Although he shouldn’t been happier than anything, his jealous feelings raged at the fans and even his band members.

Why should they be around Dae-jung? Why should they be around someone who’s so selfless? He’s so kind and gentle, what gives them the right? Why should he share?

But Ye-jun didn’t want to feel that way. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way. They had a right; they could talk to Dae-jung. Ye-jun could only feel disgusted at himself.

However, after months of their debut, a miracle happened. Dae-jung pulled Ye-jun aside one day and confessed of how he was in love with him. Ye-jun felt euphoric. He couldn’t believe it. He accepted Dae-jung’s feelings with glee.

Ever since then, Ye-jun and Dae-jung have been secretly dating. They didn’t tell anyone about it, not even their trusted members. They didn’t want to take even the slightest chance that they could be exposed.

One day, they decided to have their first date. Of course, they first made it seem like they wanted the entire group there. But secretly, they planned it on a day where both Byung-ho and Han-gyeol were busy. They soon both went to a private spot on a hill. Just a simple romantic dinner for the two of them.

But when they woke up the morning after, they couldn’t have been expecting what came. They both woke up to a racket going on within the dorm their group shared.

Their manager came in, revealing that their date had gotten out and how everyone was talking about it. They were soon swiftly fired for breaking their contract. Dae-jung and Ye-jun soon started to feel melancholic about what was in store for the future as Han-gyeol and Byung-ho left them to process everything.

As the two held each other for comfort, a white mist filled the room. And when Byung-ho and Han-gyeol went to check up on the both of them, there was no sign of them. Nothing that showed they left or were hiding, like they disappeared into thin air.

(He's now updated to harbour the same feelings as his killer counterpart but he has the self control and moral compass to never enact on his feelings. However, his murderous tendencies do not exist at all.)

(This now exists bc two of the alt universe backstories have come out and it has shown that the people are the same as their other selves but an event happened differently which made them go down a different road. So in this case it's that Ye-jun recognised his jealous behaviour early on and tried to combat it which prevents him from murdering his band members and dating Dae.)

#daybreak roblox #roblox #ye-jun im #survivor ye jun im

33 notes · View notes

saltygilmores · 2 years

Text

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 4 ("The Road Trip To Harvard") Aka JessMas Eve This episode makes my list of favorite episodes. On that list of episodes, only two of them don't include Jess (the other being Rory & Paris' super gay spring break trip). So I guess you could say I enjoy the episodes where the characters manage to escape The Hollow for a bit and visit The Real World™. I already reviewed Jess' debut in the next episode ahead of schedule (which you can read here), so next time you see me post it will be Season 2, Episode 6. You can read the rest of my reviews here. I'm going to enjoy these last gasps of breath before Jess shows up and the agonies begin. Until then, let's pack our shit, print out our Mapquest directions, drag out the giant binder of compact discs, and get on with the road trip. Let me just say I admire Lorelai's ability to self reflect and admit to herself that she wasn't ready to get married and that Max wasn't the right person for her.

Rory: What did that sign say? Don't? Or Death? We're doomed. Lorelai: Wrong. We're being guided by fate.

Same things I'm saying as I await Jess Mariano's arrival.

I love Rory's disdain for all the late 90's pop music that I cherish so dearly.

Is that the name of the local asulym in The Hollow?

Debatable. Lorelai: I hope you didn't get too far on that cake. I know the kind of work you were gonna put into that cake and I'd just kill myself if you went crazy for nothing.

"Oh sure, don't worry about it Lorelai. It's not like I poured blood, sweat and tears, dozens of man-hours, and expensive ingredients into this god damn monstrosity just for you. I'm not going put you in a chokehold the next time I see you or anything. I'm Sookie! I'm too cute and quirky for that!"

"Here's what I think about your cold feet, Lorelai. " *grabs knife*

Awww Sookie, you're too kind. Thank you. I... don't understand Lorelai putting down Bed and Breakfasts. Doesn't she literally manage one? I suppose there is some minute difference between a charming, small town, New England "inn" run by quirky characters, and a charming, small town, New England "Bed and breakfast" run by quirky characters? Lorelai at the Cheshire Cat B&B: We can't stay here. Rory: Where are we going to sleep then? Dying of exposure in a car is my worst nightmare. Rory when she saw Jess dying of exposure in a car:

Lorelai: We found the only room that would have made Liberace step back and say "Wow, step back, no one's that gay!" Early 2000's tv writing, everyone! Lorelai: Are you hungry enough to risk having to answer 100 questions about Chilton, your life in a small town, and your hunky hunky boyfriend? No matter how far from home she strays, Lorelai's's thoughts are never far from Dean. Handsome, tall, beautiful, hunky hunky, 16 year old bag-boy Dean Forrester.

Rory: What do we do now? Lorelai: Go to sleep? Rory: It's only 8:30. How about we talk?

"Please say Dean, please say Dean, please say Dean..."

"...Damn it."

This screen shot has so many potential uses for future reviews! I will be stealing it. Thanks Lorelai! #Yoink Lorelai calls Sookie again, who is just chilling at Luke's instead of at the Inn for once, honestly kind of an unusual sight that threw me off. Earlier in the episode, on her first call to Sookie, Lorelai asked her to have Miss Patty spread the gossip that the engagement was kaput, but we learn that news has not yet reached Luke, who is in the middle of trying to throw Kirk out of the diner for ordering 8 refills of his coffee and occupying a table for too long. Kirk: I've been trying to figure out the tip, I'm not good at math. What's 6% of $4.43? 8 cups of coffee for under $5? 55 cents a cup? Good deal. See that Gilly Girls? Someone who pays Luke for their food and even leaves a tip! Granted, he's only about to leave 26 cents but at least it's something. Learn from this man. I know Lorelai eventually begins to pay Luke back with Nature's Credit Card (booty) but that's still a few years off. Sookie breaks the news to Luke, and the Grinch's heart grew 4 sizes that day. In light of the bad news, he decides he won't charge Kirk for his (now 9) cups of coffee, forgoing his 25 cent tip, and also gives free coffee to everyone else in the diner, plunging himself even deeper into debt. Anyone else ever think about poor Jess waiting tables, depending on tips but knowing that R&L never tipped him? And Rory would never even tip him with Nature's Credit Card. Shame, that.

I recognize the woman on the left from an episode of The Golden Girls and the guy in the middle from an episode of Seinfeld (Fun bit of trivia: Lauren Graham and Scott Patterson both made appearances on Seinfeld!)

Sorta kinda. And now for easily the best thing ever spotted in the background of a tv show.

Wanted: SAT Instructors? No, that's not it. Conference on Voting Modernization. Hmm, not quite...just move up a skosh there... Affordable Spanish tutoring? No..

Rory, you desperately need a job and I notice you're not jumping to sign up for this easy gig. I think this would look impressive and really stand out on your college application and you may learn a thing or two. Dean and Jess would be very appreciative. Sadly, even with my good vision I can't make out what the rest of the tiny writing says except "Gay and straight" and that the last line is some pervy perv's email address.

"Hey baby, you signing up for the Porn Watching job too?"

Sounds like a good place for getting paid to watch porn. I think Jess would have loved college, and in my headcanon he definitely gets his GED and goes to college in his 20's. The WB network basically made a show about it. It's called The Bedford Diaries. Or as I affectionately call it "Jess Goes To College". The GillyGirls commit some light breaking and entering and walk into an open dorm room.

I just wrote a song, want to hear it? Here goes: Vintage computers, oh so cute, early 2000's I love youuuu!

I know this was 2001, but Lorelai thinks it costs $100 to take a class at Harvard.

How do you know you're really at Harvard? Everyone wears sweatshirts that say "Harvard" on them. Rory tries to sneak into the class unnoticed but drops her coffee which causes every single person in the room to turn around and angrily glare at her and she gets reprimanded by the professor for not sitting in a seat. My heart breaks for her pathetic self. But if it's any comfort to Rory, in The Real World ™ I can promise you nobody in that class would give a shit about you or your coffee.

♫ I'm at a payphone, tryin to call Luke, I never pay him for his food ♫

The two women next to Rory are rolling their eyes so far back in their heads they're going to make a full rotation and come back out the other side.

Oh hey I know that guy in the red shirt! A time traveler from the distant year 2006. He didn't stick the landing, had to re-live 9/11 a month earlier and now he's being forced to listen to Rory Gilmore's thoughts on philosophy. That was a Heroes joke. That's the guy who played Hiro on the tv show Heroes. He could travel through time.

My man in plaid here has fallen into a coma.

Out of Context Gilly Girls Lorelai comes home and forces her mother to watch slides of their trip. Emily to Lorelai: Why would you go out of town right before your wedding? Wouldn't your fiance mind?

Heh heh, woopsie daisy! Emily thinks Lorelai eloped and flies into a rage but Lorelai tells her what happened. Emily's only response is that she's returning Lorelai's wedding gift. Lorelai once again swallows and represses her ongoing trauma and instead grills her mother on what the gift was, but she won't say. Doesn't Lorelai recieve an ice cream making machine in the mail with no return address a short time later, or was that just a fever dream? Ah, I suppose we shall soon find out. And now for the Relevant Stuff That Happens In The Last Three Minutes: Lorelai & Luke have a very sweet conversation where she decides to keep the chuppah and turn it into a positive instead of a painful reminder. Lorelai asks Luke if he will give her guidance on owning a business and he accepts. She wants to begin the process of opening an Inn with Sookie. Lorelai opens her flip phone and thank god she's just calling Sookie again and not Christopher. And Lane escaped from Korea. Good for her.

Tomatos Sign: Spotted.

#gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #luke danes #Gilmore Girls Season 2 #The Road Trip to Harvard #Denise Rewatches Gilmore Girls

17 notes · View notes

bobgoesw00t · 2 years

Text

Top 10 Video Games of All Time: bobgoesw00t Edition

OK, I’m officially gonna start listing my Top 10 Video Games of All Time now and I’m starting off with the only game from my original Top 5 that has survived the cut: Star Ocean Till the End of Time

Now I should mention something real quickly and it’s the following: I’ve played this game MULTIPLE TIMES, cleared the story at least 3-4 times, and only one of those clears was done without the use of an Action Replay… I know that’s rather sad but the first time I got to the Moon Base, without using it, that god damn Reclaimer FUCKED ME UP SO HARD that I ended up resorting to using the, “Max EXP” cheat on the entire party.

When they released the HD Remaster of the game on the PS4, I knew that I would have to play smarter (no Action Replay will do that to you), once I got that far and I was actually able to beat her on the first try somehow…I think. ANYWAYS, what I’m trying to say is that this game is one of my three favorite JRPGs from the PS2 (one of those is in my Top 5 right now) and no matter how many times I boot the game up and start from the beginning I have a blast. The story is awesome, the graphics hold up surprisingly well in the HD Remaster (at least IMO), combat is fun and challenging at times, and the cast of characters is phenomenal (hell, my top Star Ocean OTP is from this game and they are SO CUTE AND FLUFFY AO;SDGHASOLGJAPO;STGIJLAGPO…it’s Fayt x Albel/FayBel in case your wondering). I even think the big plot twist is awesome, given how it re-frames the ENTIRE series, even with the games that got released after it. I know one of the people who work on the series said that The Last Hope takes place in an alternate timeline, but I call bullshit on that.

That’s cause if we factor in the information that the Universe as Edge and the party know it is actually a giant MMOesque creation, we can come to the logical conclusion that the Missing Procedure is a bug or virus of some kind in the Eternal Sphere that had the potential to crash the entire system. As for the impact it has on Integrity and Faithlessness, along with The Divine Force, that is a conversation for another day.

I also like how in order to get enough Battle Trophies to unlock all of the bonus content, you actually have to play through the story multiple times with different party configurations when it comes to the optional characters. You’ve got Nel, Rodger, Albel and Peppita and which ever characters you don’t pick end up becoming bosses in the Urssa Cave Temple, and you get Battle Trophies for defeating the different configurations.

I only really have two complaints to talk about but both are pretty minor for me. The first one is the lack of a “Synopsis” section in the Info part of the Camp Menu, someplace where you can look up what’s happened so far and easily figure out where to go next. If you’re like me and you’ve taken a long break from the story, chances are you won’t remember what the current objective is the only way to figure that out is to run around like a chicken with your head cut off hoping for a cutscene to trigger…which sometimes can lead into a Boss Fight that you might be under prepared for. Thankfully they added that into the next game and this is no longer an issue but it’s still a pain in the ass to have this happen.

The other complaint is the MASSIVE difficulty spike at some points in the game. The only places I can think of when this happens is when you stop the Vendeeni from getting the Sacred Orb, the start of the second disc (or the equivilant part in the HD Remaster), and when you reach a certain level in the post-game part of Sphere 211. If you have any party members that are under-leveled, the enemies here will FUCK THEM UP. But even with properly leveled characters, one wrong move will wipe them from the battle.

And that’s all I have for gripes with this game, nothing really game breaking, and once you get a grip on the tougher enemies in the main story, it becomes a breeze to get past them and move on with the plot. Great gameplay, good cast of characters, music by the BADASS Motoi Sakuraba and a theme song from the Japanese Artist renown not just for being the first J-R&B star, but also sung the Japanese National Anthem at the Tokyo Games Opening Ceremony, MISIA. Her song, “A Little Bird Who Forgot How to Fly” is GORGEOUS and I almost ball my eyes out during the ending credits every time when it starts playing.

SO for my score of Star Ocean Till the End of Time, I’m going to follow in the steps of X-Play, use their scoring system and give this JRPG a 5/5.

Lastly for my Honorable Mentions today, I’m highlighting:

Forza Horizon 3 - the racing game that got my into not only the Forza franchise in general, but also introduced me to the music of CHVRCHΞS. Even the the next Horizon game wasn’t able to top this one for me, no matter how good it was.

Tales of Xillia/Xillia 2 - I’m doing a two for one deal this time only cause I feel like you can’t talk about one game without mentioning the other. Both games are awesome, both have their merits and flaws (not many of them to be honest though) and both have my favorite theme songs in the franchise from the Queen of J-Pop, Ayumi Hamasaki.

I’ll be giving more a in-depth reviews of these games sometime next year so that’s all for today! Keep your eyes peeled for when I post the next entry in this series and I hope you all continue to have a wonderful holiday season.

11 notes · View notes

marshmallowprotection · 1 year

Note

playing around with the logistics of saeyoung w an mc who has a kid, the only work-arounds I can think of,

-the kid didn't initially go with them. we have 5 days for the common route, we could say MC was running errands or something while the kid was with a relative/friend/other trusted babysitter for a bit when the prologue happened, and it wasn't until after MC more or less moved in that they brought their kid (MC's prior living situation IS like, never mentioned. so maybe moving to the apartment after establishing it seemed safe seemed like a good choice. more space, nice neighborhood (according to unknown anyway. tho if rich bitch V was paying for it, he could def afford a decent place). they don't like, KNOW yet)

-mc & kid def go to stay with jumin when saeyoung leaves for mint eye but maybe they can support from like, a distance? like stay on the phone with him as much as they can. so like the only difference with day 10 is their physical presence. they're still There in a sense, so saeyoung can keep his head on straight

i dunno. I'm trying to think about it but yeah he'd definitely be 1,000,000% more stubborn about everything if a kid is involved

It's definitely a tough situation because Saeyoung's priority would be to tell you that your child comes first. He's right, your kid does come first. You have someone to protect. In that sense, he can relate to you and he understands what it means to be in charge of someone who is completely innocent. He was the only one who could take care of his twin because their mother wasn't going to do that. He knows what it means to be responsible for someone's safety.

Which is why any MC with a child is on thin ice with Saeyoung in the sense of, "I hope to God you didn't walk into this apartment with your kid because he is going to trust your judgment a lot and it's not going to matter how much damage control you do now, there's just no way to go back after that. "

If MC does go to the apartment, your assumption might be the only one that's feasible. They would need to be alone. Unknown wouldn't pick someone with a child, that's a liability, but! If he did, this MC has to be like, in parent mode, wanting to help Unknown. "Oh, goodness. Okay, I'll lend you a hand in this! I'll leave a note by the door and give them your number!"

This MC might be more trusting of the apartment complex since it is in a good neighborhood. It's still never advisable to go to a secondary location. Never do that, kids! But, if they decided to chance it, I think the area might convince them it's not dangerous. It would, at least, in this sense, be enough to make sure that Saeyoung wouldn't think so much less of you for risking a child's safety.

I just genuinely don't know how you could play out Saeyoung's Route being a parent. He wouldn't let you go with him on the mission, and you'd be in the dark for a damn while because Saeyoung has to duck and dodge a lot of agents in the field to get by. You being there in his route makes a lot of difference in Mint Eye. So, not even counting the Secret Ending content, I'd have to wonder—

You're the one that shoves the floppy disc in the computer to jolt Unknown before he pounces on Saeyoung to attack. How does that play out this time? When you're not there as a liability, Unknown goes for the kill. I wonder how that plays out, since, unfortunately, you're not going to be there. You're locked in the penthouse with Jumin for safety measures.

Like, I can see him doing his best to get by in a life on the run while he tries to save his twin, but you being there is what gives him a real chance to delay Vanderwood, too. You're not going to be there, how is Saeyoung going to fight the agency? You're the one that drives all of you out of there. How does that play out?

Like, yes, supporting him over the phone and video games is a really important factor that would help out... but there are so many things in the Route that depend on YOU.

It's not impossible to make this work out perfectly, but Saeyoung is the toughest character to play with in this situation because of what we know about him. I think this concept could be interesting to see written out but there are just so many factors that make it seem like...

Saeyoung will be killed later on because he doesn't have what he's getting originally, or Saeyoung never gets close to you because you have a child and he's afraid of A) more innocent people hurt due to his recklessness and B) we don't have time to unpack his parental trauma.

#character analysis #pastelsapphy #ask #mod kait

2 notes · View notes

cmyknoise · 2 years

Text

i am glad that some ppl can find the final disc confrontation as a solid ending to the dsmp, at least for tommy and tubbo, but i can't.

to me it isn't a satisfying ending, sending dream away to prison with so many loose threads and empty promises.

i think there's genuinely good stuff that would come from events thereafter for their characters as well, and i don't think revivebur/cwilbur is as bad as some people think he is. i think the problem is genuinely the timeframe everything happened in and how because of that it made things happen that wouldn't have or things that should've didn't happen.

i think, especially direct post revival, revivebur was a great character and i think the potential between him and ranboo could've been great, and the foundations they laid for their characters to learn something from each other was very very well done and good, it just never came to fruition, and wilbur had to write a book to catch us up on things no one else would do.

i think that some of the closure tommy had begun to get, such as slowly opening up to people like quackity or wilbur or his friends, or doing things he loved again was a very good thing for him.

i think that even some of the tragedies post disc finale were immensely interesting, like our glimpse into limbo and everything that would happen between sam and tommy's relationship, etc.

genuinely i think there were good things, good plans, and it all worked out when they worked together to do them. even the lore over the last few days, i think, although not ideal and clearly rushed, still has very good elements to them and because they were communicated through and talked out, it shows.

i just wished this all happened like, 6 months ago. i wish the finale for wilbur and tommy would've happened back in spring or summer or even earlier, if these 3+ month gaps in between streams didn't happen, because i think that's what really killed it. the missteps in writing and flaws wouldn't be as obvious if things had continued to happen consecutively. i think there are lots of problems with the lore and things that have happened over the last few months but i genuinely think it's not the writing that is the problem but the timing. it's like if you had a tv show season that was supposed to run for 20 episodes but they only aired maybe 5 a year. you forget what happened last time, the details, you've lost the hype and excitement, or you've analyzed the last bit of content so much that your expectations will simply never be met.

i, unfortunately, don't find the final disc confrontation as an easy fall back. i can't just pretend that that was the ending, because to me, it doesn't conclude it well narratively. in the grand scheme of things it wasn't as huge a win for tommy and tubbo, not after all they went through. dream didn't die he went to prison. there were still people around that hated them. he lived under the pretense that wilbur would've been revived, and if it would've just ended there would've been so much that they never got to talk through that they eventually did.

im glad some people can do that, but i cant. and i dont know how the finale for tommy and tubbo's characters will go tomorrow, i've only been watching clips and reading recaps and once they're available, i've been skipping through vods.

i don't know how much hope i have for tomorrow. tommy once said he wanted us to have a good ending. by the way it looks it looks more like they're setting up a promo for dsmp s2 and i hope to god it's not that. i hope something happens. i hope that something, anything lets tommy not die tomorrow.

regardless of how it does end, i'm glad it's over, and i hope that they can do new, brighter things in the future. i hope they make new smps or bring back other ones. i hope people stop hounding their chats about the dream smp and lore and let them play minecraft without mentioning it. i hope they can play other games, bring back old series, play with more people they havent much, god fuck anything please.

i hope that what they do next they can view as having fun, and not something they do out of obligation or for job reasons.

i hope they can have fun after the dream smp and that we get content that they want to show us, and that they enjoy creating with as much passion they did 2 years ago.

#fandom neg #fandom crit #<- just in case

6 notes · View notes

preshtagonist · 5 months

Text

Marble hornets!stuck thoughts bc its that time of night again and talking into the void of shit nobody cares abt is my thing and bc this has been brewing in my head for half a year now i think? Some of these are disconnected thoughts and concepts that dont work together

their session is a horribly glitched out seemingly void session where the white queen and black queen were not separate entities (may also include black king and white king idk!) (this is the operator)

This entity is also their first guardian. Lord english esque in how it perpetuates its own creation (yknow how arasol found the code for sgrub. I think it does smth similar w tapes or some other method. Arg to find your sburb disc loser) and in how it seems almost to have always been present in the life of tim (you know) and alex (birthday video)

Possibility: Alex discovered the sburb code or whatever the mechanism was and tried to hide it thinking it would prevent the apocalypse from happening. It doesnt and never would have. Jay finds them i think (maybe for a while alex blames jay for the apocalypse bc he couldnt keep his goddamn nose out of it)

as an amalgam of four game constructs (WQ BQ BK WK) it is considered the exile of the main four (alex, brian, tim, and jay) and indirectly fucks them via “commands” on the computer terminal. Tims pills run interference for whatever reason.

Brian (as hoodie) eventually gains access to his terminal and occasionally through “hacking”, the terminals of the other four guys. TTA brainblasts you w audio visual hallucinations sometimes

Jessica, seth, amy, and sarah have “normal” exiles. Thank god

Heres a fucked up thought: tim and alex have opposing views on initiating the scratch. Who is on what side probably requires a more nuanced understanding of their characters than what i have but heres an attempt to pick a side for each and figure out reasoning:

So first of all neither character has a perfect understanding of what the scratch truly is or how it works. They do not have a doc scratch or trolls to yell at them for universe cancer so there is no real way for them to have a full picture of the implications of doing this.

alex is actually for NOT initiating the scratchz his reaction to finding out they “caused” the end of the world (or more accurately were harbingers of that end) is “we all deserve to die.”, heavily rooted in christian/cartholic (i am tired sorry for conflating the two) guilt for what i hope are Obvious Reasons and the whole “you need to kill everyone and then yourself” thing. Additionally does not believe the scratch will destroy the operator (he is right) so trapping it in this dead universe is the best they can do in his eyes (he can not actually hope to trap it). Sees them all as infected by it but ESPECIALLY Tim as “the source” (why? I dont know. I think it favored him as a doom player. Tim being a doom player also makes him the most literally representation of everything alex hates and resents about the situation).

Tim is for initiating the scratch. He believes that the scratch will wipe out the operator for good (it wont). I had mlre thoughts on this but i got sjdetracked sorry

Jessica survives the scratch somehow

Maybe she is hidden away by tim before the scratch starts, maybe he even is able to hide with her from it? Would imply tim knows the scratch is surviveable and thus the operator could escape from it but would also reflect how his self preservation kind of outweighs any desire to be a martyr unlike alex. Tim Will Survive a la final girl? I had better ways of expressing this thought but i lost it. If you look at this and say “you dont know what youre talking about” you are so correct

Either way, due to tims planning or a glitch in their already buggy session, she falls through the fabric of spacetime and into the new universe but loses all her memories/has a fuzzy recollection.

If tim does survive this could explain how she is able to be situated in a universe where she should not exist (he got everything arranged the way sburb guardians (non first ones) would)

This is how marble hornets comic happens and that cast would get involved

Have you considered skully sprite for your troubles. Yes? Okay i dont have a more developed thought than that i spedread the comics from excitement and did. Not internalize the meaningful stuff bc im small brained

….i just rmbrd the ^2sprites and. Thinking sbt that in relation to skullysprite is… yeah id be wanting to fix the broken too if i was an amalgam of several dead bodies shoved into a sprite in this timeline (maybe)

Obviously real skuly is more than that but i dont fully understand them so. Ack

Anyway this sessions FOR SURE players are jessica, taylor, adam (who i ALWAYS tag as seth bc i dont have a BRAIN) and david (and skully! In a way)

Adam kills david during the session. I know it in my heart. Bastard >:(

I cant think of anything else good night

#mhstuck #pstrlg

1 note · View note

read-and-reflect · 2 years

Text

Wedding and Wine

John 2:1-11 describes for us the first miracle (or sign) that John includes from Jesus’s ministry. John seems to have carefully chosen what stories (and what signs) he would include in his account of the life of the Savior. After all, in chapter 20 John tells us that “Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book, but these are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (John 20:30-31, ESV).

John chose his stories for a reason. He considered these to be important to help people understand who Jesus was and what he was here to do, and to inspire belief and devotion to him. So it’s a bit disappointing, I think, that this text seems to receive rather limited attention. I believe I can say without much doubt—at least in my personal experience—that this sign is the least discussed of any in John, and quite possibly less frequently discussed than quite a few other miracles that are described in other gospels.

If we stop and think for a moment, perhaps that should surprise us: after all, not only is this one of only a few that John chooses to include at all, it seems to be the very first public miracle that Jesus performs. Unless we think of Jesus as some apprentice miracle-worker, who began with simple projects and worked his way up to more impressive acts of power, we might do well to ask why he chose this—of all signs he could have chosen—this to begin his public ministry.

I suspect, though I haven’t conducted any scientific research to verify this hypothesis, that part of the reason we let Cana fade into the background is a level of discomfort with its content. Perhaps because of the tendency in Restoration circles to teach total abstention from alcohol, we feel a little uncomfortable with the idea of Jesus not only drinking wine, but producing it and giving it to people who are already drunk. So, even when Cana is discussed, the conversation often includes excursions to discuss the alcohol concentration of Palestinian wine or to present the possibility that what Jesus created was not alcoholic at all (despite the reaction of the feast master at Cana suggesting that not only does Jesus know how to make real wine, he knows how to make really good wine).

There is a value and a weight to this sign that we must not overlook. To do that, and to lend our discussion some sort of structure, we’re going to consider three levels of interpretation to this story. We’ll begin with a superficial reading, with the most straightforward applications we might take from the story, and then dive a little deeper into what I hope will be more helpful meaning.

Level 1: Incidental Provision

On a quick reading, this story seems almost to be an example of an incidental miracle. There happens to be a wedding, they happen to run out of wine, and Jesus happens to be there. Knowing who he is, his mother comes to him to save the day. Despite some initial reluctance, Mary pushes the request and Jesus gives in.

We might consider the cultural context and the importance placed on hospitality, to the point that it would be enormously embarrassing for the host of a feast like this to run out of wine. This wasn’t just a minor hiccup, but a desperate need.

We could take several lessons from this reading of the story:

The story represents some core truths about Jesus’s ministry, that he helps those who come to him with needs. On a greater level, he comes to fill what is lacking, to meet what is needed by mankind. And what he brings, the feast master suggests, is even better than what they had before.

Perhaps we read this story as an example of Jesus’s humble submission to the request of his mother. He is respectful and obedient—and truly, we should avoid the temptation of reading his response of “woman” as something hostile or disrespectful. No, that is just how Jesus talks. See the scene at the cross, where he lovingly instructs a disciple to take in and care for Mary as his own mother. “Woman, behold your son.”

Perhaps—an interpretation that I have seen, though it is not mine—this story shows us an example of God’s grace, that he is willing to meet a need when it presents itself even though it doesn’t fit his previous plan. Even though it wasn’t the right time, Jesus seems to say, he graciously changes his plans and begins his visible ministry in order to help those who are in need at Cana.

And with that tidy outline and 3 applications to carry with us, we move right along to the more interesting and comfortable tale about Jesus punishing those who turn the temple into a place of business. That story fits right into our ecclesiastical comfort zones. However, I think there’s more to Cana than that.

Level 2: Signpost of the Messianic Age

Is this miracle really an example of reluctant provision? Is it really happenstance that Jesus is here, at this moment, and reluctantly allows his mother to pressure him into starting his visible earthly ministry ahead of schedule? In other words, does the God-Man who knows the hearts of men (2:23-25) really go to this wedding unaware of what will happen here and what will be asked of him? Of course not, and it is foolish to limit ourselves to an understanding of this narrative that might lead us in that direction of thought. This is no accidental first miracle, but a carefully chosen one.

Perhaps another question to ask: do we treat this story as though John tossed it into his narrative? Is it just an awkward speed bump as we head from chapter 1’s familiar language toward the theological wonder that is chapter 3? We just have to get through chapter 2, and then we’ll be back in comfortable territory. No, John is purposeful about what he places in his gospel. This sign was carefully chosen and placed. We’ll notice this if we pay heed to the themes that John has already been putting forward.

John has been emphasizing Jesus as the fulfillment of prophecy. He is the Messiah, the one of whom the law and prophets spoke (1:41, 45). He is the promised king, the promised suffering servant, and the prophesied connection between heaven and earth.

John has emphasized Jesus as one who provides something that is greater than what came before him. He brings the fullness of grace and truth (1:17-18). He brings a baptism not just of water, but of the Holy Spirit (1:26, 33).

Both these themes continue as points of emphasis in this narrative. It fits in thematically, which we’ll see, and even in its specific location: at the end of chapter 1, Jesus referenced back to the story of Jacob’s dream in Genesis 28. When we go back and read that story, we might notice that the dream story also leads directly into a story about a wedding (well, two weddings) and even includes details about drinking something that comes out of stone. I doubt that is an accident. Instead, that narrative connection should focus us as we read the Cana narrative. It should force us to ask, how does this fit in? What purpose does it play in Jesus’s ministry, and what does it reveal about him?

Wine and Weddings

Like everything else, this story must be read with the knowledge of what came before it. Specifically, we should be thinking about the important motifs of wine and weddings in the Messianic prophecies of the Old Testament. Let’s take a quick trip to get a taste of this wine.

In Deuteronomy 28, abundance of wine and oil is connected to blessings and curses of the Law.

In Isaiah 1:6, 22, the spiritual state of the people is connected to their physical state, as promised in the Law: oil is unavailable, and their wine is mixed with water.

Isaiah 24 presents a picture of broad judgment, with earth under a curse, and an emphasis on lack (24:6, 7, 9, 11).

Isaiah 25 contrasts 24 with a beautiful picture of God’s salvation: a rich feast with good food and well-aged wine. The image here is combined with victory over death.

Jer. 31 presents a great prophecy of restoration after exile and the promise of a future new covenant. It describes the bounty of the land being restored and people rejoicing over the abundance of grain, oil, and wine (Deuteronomy language).

In Joel 2-3 the Messianic restoration is described in similar terms: abundant grain, wine and oil; vines giving full yield and wine vats overflowing; chapter 3 uses “sweet wine” as a marker of this age, saying “so you shall know that I am the LORD your God who dwells in Zion.”

Additionally, the wedding motif appears in multiple Messianic prophecies. See two for example:

Hosea 2

Here, God through Hosea tells his unfaithful people that there will come a day when he once again betrotheds them to himself, this time in steadfast love, mercy, and faithfulness.

Isaiah 61-62

In a prophecy that Jesus explicitly connects himself (Luke 4), Isaiah describes God removing his people’s shame and clothing them in garments of salvation and righteousness, like a bride is adorned with jewels. In 62:4-5, Isaiah says that Israel’s name would be “My delight is in her” and her land called “Married,” for “as the bridegroom rejoices over the bride, so shall your God rejoice over you.”

So, what does this context mean for our understanding of the wedding and wine at Cana in John 2? Well, the fundamental issue at the wedding is a lack of wine. And Jesus, who just happens (hah!) to be at the scene, provides an abundance of wine. 6 stone water jars that all together would make something like a full bathtub’s worth of wine. He makes oodles, more than they needed. And it was good wine.

Let’s beware of diving into hermeneutical gymnastics in order to twist the description of “good wine” into non-fermented/non-alcoholic wine. Not only does that make little sense in light of the feast master’s words in John 2, but it also ignores the prophetic background of this story. Remember Isaiah 25 and Joel 3, where the Messianic age is marked by an abundance of “sweet” and “well-aged” wine. When the feast master calls it “good” wine in John 2, he isn’t calling it “non-alcoholic.” Let’s be careful not to twist the meaning of scripture to make ourselves more comfortable. Part of the marvel of this miracle, in fact, is that Jesus not only produces grape juice from out of nowhere, he produces something old. This wine was aged from before the foundation of the world (cf. Eph. 1:4).

For those who are paying attention, then, Jesus provides a clear marker/signpost of the fact that he is ushering in the Messianic age. Like Joel 3, he has brought the sweet wine by which the people should know that the LORD their God is dwelling among them. Jesus is here to supply their needs, to restore what has been lacking, and to remove the curse.

Jesus also takes the role of the bridegroom in this story. Did you notice? It was the bridegroom’s responsibility to provide the wine; he is the one who has failed. Jesus steps in and provides the wine, effectively taking on that responsibility, though neither the bridegroom nor the feast master know who it is that really provided the wine.

Finally, we can see the theme of better things coming through Christ showing up in this narrative — I think in two ways. The more obvious suggestion is through the words of the feast master. He tastes the wine and praises the bridegroom for bringing out better wine than they had tasted before, unlike most people would have done.

It’s also interesting, though, that John chooses to mention what type of water Jesus turned into wine. It was water used for Jewish purification rituals. It was cleansing water. And if we think about that, it might remind us of the contrast already drawn in chapter 1 between the kind of ritual cleansing by water that John the Baptist was carrying out, but even he said that something greater was yet to come: he baptized with water, but a baptism of the Spirit was coming through Christ. Jesus brings—no, Jesus supplies—something better than water.

Those connections lend this story even greater power as we understand that it is not randomly chosen or randomly placed, but it is a powerful marker reflecting, for those who are paying attention, who Jesus is and what he has come to do. But we must go one step further, for the swirling cup of prophetic Messianic wine has a more complex color than we might notice at first.

Level 3: A Foretaste of Blood

The wine imagery in those prophecies is not always comforting, but sometimes frightening. Many of them use wine to describe violence and blood, just simply abundance and joy. Wine is not just an image of Messianic restoration, but also of Messianic judgment—sometimes within the very same prophecy! For example:

In Joel 2, the wine vats overflow, continuing the imagery of wine associated with joy and restoration; in Joel 3, however, the image shifts. There another mention of vats overflowing, but this time it is with blood! God is treading out judgment on the wicked in a winepress, an image which itself becomes important in prophecies of coming judgment. In Jeremiah 25, God’s wrath is depicted as a cup of wine that the nations are forced to drink and become drunk.

In Ezekiel 39, we find an incredibly important prophecy where the images of joy and judgment are mixed together in a grotesque picture. God speaks to the “son of man” (as Ezekiel is consistently called in that book, and a title which Jesus has already connected with himself in John 1), telling him to summon all the birds and beasts of the earth to a sacrificial feast that he is preparing for them. This sacrificial feast, though, is one of flesh and blood. They will be satisfied by the flesh and become drunk on the blood.

In the prophets, the concept of restoration is tied to the removal of sin. Salvation is inseparable from violence. Israel is restored after their sin has been punished. They are brought back from exile by way of God’s judgment on the nations that took them captive. As part of that picture, wine is an image of blessing and joy and restoration, but it is also (sometimes simultaneously) an image of judgment, violence, and wrath; because even as God’s people enjoy restoration and atonement and freedom from captivity, God reminds them that those things are impossible without the shedding of blood.

There’s one more prophecy I want you to think about with me a little more carefully, and it comes to us in Isaiah 63. Let’s set the stage, because this chapter doesn’t just appear in isolation any more than the wedding at Cana does.

In Isaiah 59, God sees the sin of his people and determines to bring about salvation by “his own arm” (59:16). He describes a Redeemer who will come to Zion and to those who turn away from sin (59:20). In the next few chapters, God describes the restoration of his people and the blessings that he will bring through the Redeemer.

We already mentioned in Isaiah 61 and 62 the Messianic imagery: God’s servant Redeemer has come with the Spirit of the Lord upon him to proclaim liberty to the captives. He will remove their shame and clothe them in garments of salvation that they may be married again to their God. But even in the midst of this prophecy of hope, there remains a hint of darkness: see 61:2, where the year of the Lord’s favor is also a day of vengeance. How can those contrasting concepts coincide?

In the second half of Isaiah 62, after God has told them what is going to happen, that his redeemer is coming to this marriage feast, he instructs them to set up watchmen (62:6) and prepare the way (62:10). We have this image in our minds of watchmen anticipating and preparing the way for Israel’s redeeming husband at the end of Isaiah 62.

Then, Isaiah 63 begins with the sight of someone coming. Initially, from afar off, his appearance is beautiful. He appears to wear these royal, crimson garments, splendid in his apparel (63:1). As he gets closer, though, the picture changes drastically from what we might be expecting. His garments are not dyed crimson like those of a king, nor are they what you might expect a bridegroom to wear to his wedding. Instead, they are stained: they are stained red like someone who has been treading out grapes in a winepress. And the Redeeming Husband responds: yes, I have tread in a winepress. There was no one with me, no one to help me carry out justice, so I went into the winepress alone and trampled the sinful until their blood (lit. “juice”) spattered my garments and stained all my clothes.

It is a shocking turn of imagery, as Isaiah quickly turns from messages of hope and comfort and beautiful clothes of salvation to this violent image of a Redeemer wearing a robe dipped in blood.

This is an example of prophecy in the OT where there is a more immediate fulfillment in God’s judgment upon the nations who have oppressed his physical nation, but there is clearly a greater fulfillment to be seen in Jesus Christ.

We could connect the red garments of the Redeemer in Isaiah 63 to the description of Jesus Christ in Revelation 19:13 wearing a robe splattered with blood.

We could see the similarity of language between chapter 63 and the description of the suffering servant in 53, who is smitten and crushed and trampled and poured out for the sins of many.

We should connect 63:4 with 61:2. Who is it in chapter 61 that ushers in this year of the Lord’s favor and the day of his vengeance? It is the bloodied Redeemer.

It is into this seemingly paradoxical mess of prophecy that the Word become Flesh descends: this grotesque picture where blood is mixed with wine, where violence is inseparable from salvation, and where his filthiness is placed alongside the redemption of his bride.

He is the wine-maker. He is the source of our salvation; but, as before, this salvation will not take the form we might expect. When Jesus’s hour comes and his glory is made manifest, it will be as he is trampled in the Press of Gethsemane and crushed on the hill of Golgotha. The paradox continues, as God is both presser and pressed, crusher and crushed. The Creator becomes mortal flesh. The Shepherd becomes the sacrificial lamb. The Wine-Maker becomes the wine. He arrives at his own wedding feast with bloody garments, holes in hands and side. There was no one else to help, so he has trodden the winepress alone (Isa 63: 3, 5).

How is it that the mountains drip sweet wine? How is it that the vats overflow? From whence does the abundance of Messianic wine come? It comes from a winepress where God treads upon his own Son. As the cask of his flesh is broached, blood and water mingle together to create sweet wine aged since before the foundation of the world (cf. John 19:34).

Our cups overflow.

Conclusion

At the end of John 1, Jesus suggested to his new disciples that he is what they were looking for and more. They will see greater things than they expect. They will see him become a bridge between heaven and earth.

Here in the Cana narrative, there are two phrases that John uses which point us forward to future events in Jesus’s ministry. First of all, Jesus says to his mother in verse 4: “My hour has not yet come.” In John, this phrase is not used to describe the beginning of his ministry, but the time of his arrest, trial, and death: the passion. Jesus’s glorification, too, the idea of the Son of Man being “glorified” is consistently used by John to describe the time and manner of his death. That language may be a reference back to Isaiah 52:13, where Isaiah is describing the Suffering Servant and the Septuagint reads: “He shall be lifted up and glorified exceedingly.” And both those phrases are used here in this story.

Jesus tells his mother that his hour has not yet come, not that he’s reluctant to begin his ministry but that the knowledge and understanding of this miracle must be contained because it’s true meaning has something to do with an hour that is not yet here.

And John says to us after the miracle is performed that Jesus “manifested his glory” and the disciples believed in him. This is the only one of Jesus’s miracles where John says that. Does that mean that none of his other miracles were manifestations of glory? No, but it reminds us that John has something specific in mind when he talks about the glorification of Christ. This miracle, in some limited way, gave his disciples a taste of what was to come. They didn’t understand it, they didn’t see the full picture, but Jesus showed them a glimpse of the glory that was to come. The glory of a crucified Christ and the blood that he provides.

Jesus supplies physical wine to meet a temporary physical need, but in so doing he prefigures a future hour of greater glory where he will supply greater wine from a greater vessel to meet a greater need. From the very beginning of his ministry, his eye was on the end. This Flesh was waiting to be pierced, that his blood might bring restoration and joy to countless sinners.

We observe a weekly memorial that involves flesh and blood, bread and wine. The Eucharist represents the spiritual truth that those passages were foretelling: that our redemption would come at the price of blood, the blood of the Suffering Servant, God in Flesh. And because of his sacrifice, we enjoy every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places (Eph. 1:3). Through him we have cleansing, through him our need is supplied, through him we have joy and restoration, through him we are clothed with garments of salvation and become part of his beloved bride, the Church.

#sermons #gospel of john #wine

1 note · View note

griffintail · 3 years

Note

I’m surprised people think techno’s grief extends to pure violence. When it’s clear the news of his S/O death leaves him trembling on the floor, and letting out pained wails his first night alone. Leaving him delirious in denial as Philza has to keep watch to make sure he doesn’t kill himself trying to bring them back. And as the grief seeps in he is left to sleep through dreamless nights and live through thoughtless days. And at the end, acceptance isn’t voluntary, he’s too tired to do anything else. (Please write smth for this I can’t sleep this idea’s been eating at me for days)

I went a bit off script- I hope you still enjoy. :)

The Bolt

In-Game

Pairings: Technoblade x GN! Reader

Warnings: Death, Blood, Angst

Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Techno blocked the axe coming for his face with his shield as he chugged his last regeneration potion.

The last battle of L’Manberg was over and he needed to find (Y/N) and get home to safety. He gave a whistle that echoed across the battlefield before pushing Sapnap away from him. Booking it away, he went towards the meet-up spot Phil and (Y/N) had agreed with him.

“Phil, I want you to have the totem.” Techno held it out to his friend.

He saw Phil running from the wreckage the withers were causing as he could see the (H/C) head of hair weaving through the chaos. Techno lost his concentration as he stared at (Y/N), everything a dull roar as he smiled softly at their figure. Creating the scene of anarchy and chaos.

“Wait, I’m your damn fiancé, why don’t I get it?” (Y/N) gave a dramatic huff as they put a hand on their chest.

It was true, they both only had one life but…

“Because, you and I, we never die blood goddess,” Techno smirked.

“TECHNO!” They screamed.

He had missed seeing the crossbow aiming at him because he had been looking at (Y/N)…

He went to get his shield but he would be too slow…

Then there was a cracking as an ender pearl shattered in front of him and in a cloud of purple sparks appeared (Y/N), who gasped as they caught the crossbow bolt in the stomach.

“You’re such an idiot.” (Y/N) laughed. “Now! Let’s celebrate our freedom from the child by blowing up a nation!”

Techno laughed as he enjoyed the sparkle in their eyes at the thought of the anarchy.

“No, no, no!” Techno caught them as they fell, Jack quickly loading his crossbow again.

He needed to go.

Scooping them up, he bolted for where Phil was watching in wide-eyed shock. Phil managed to snap out of it though and covered Techno’s retreat as he tried to reassure (Y/N).

“It’s ok, we’re going to get you home, alright? Come on, you’re going to need to keep your eyes open for me beautiful.”

But (Y/N) winced before crying out as the crossbow bolt brought them pain. The voices were screaming in panic with them and Techno.

WE NEED TO GO FASTER! WE’RE OUT OF HEALTH POTIONS! WHY DID THEY TAKE THE BOLT! PHIL, HELP TECHNO! GO GO GO GO!

“I’m here mate!” Phil ran beside him now, taking off his jacket. “We got to keep pressure on it till we get to the potions. I sent a crow ahead to get one faster hopefully.”

Phil kept pace as pressed the jacket around the bleeding wound, (Y/N) letting out another scream. Techno wanted to scream himself as he ground his teeth together to keep himself together.

They had to cross the nether to get home!

They had so far to go!

That crow needed to get here yesterday!

“T-Techno.” (Y/N) sputtered.

“Quiet, keep your strength,” Techno demanded.

“I-I-I…” They muttered before their eyes blinked closed.

“We got to stop.” Phil panicked.

“We don’t have any potions!” Techno also panicked.

“We have to slow down the bleeding now!”

The pair stopped as Techno put (Y/N) down as Phil tried to work as fast as he could being the experienced healer. He tried to stem the bleeding as best he could, he couldn’t take the bolt out though and it had to have hit something important because there was too much damn blood!

Then a few minutes later…

(Y/N)’s chest stopping moving…

“No. No, no, no. Breath damn it!” Techno commanded, putting a hand on their shoulder.

“Techno…” Phil said quietly, tears in his eyes.

“Where’s your crow!?” Techno shouted. “We need a potion now!”

“…It’s not going to help Techno.”

“It has to! We—They’re not gone! They…they…”

Techno put his forehead on theirs as tears gathered in his eyes.

“Please…don’t leave me. I love you; I need you…”

But (Y/N) had fallen and lost their last life…

…

Techno had carried (Y/N) all the way home to the tundra and he held them for a while before he finally let himself bury them. Then…

He just sat there for hours, shaking.

In the freezing cold.

Next to the mound of dirt.

“Techno, mate. You got to come in.” Phil muttered as he came out as night was starting to fall.

“I don’t want to leave them,” Techno mumbled.

The voices were quiet whispers as they talked about all the things they loved about (Y/N) and Techno just sat listening to them, ignoring as Phil protested.

“They wouldn’t want you to die with them mate.” Phil finally broke through the voices.

Techno huffed, tears falling behind his mask. “And they didn’t want to die either.”

Phil sighed before just sitting next to his old friend.

“What are you doing?” Techno looked at him.

“You got to pass out eventually. Doubt all the adrenaline from the fight is helping.”

It really wasn’t. Techno felt bone tired and his body wanted nothing more than for him to sleep but he wanted nothing more to sit here with…(Y/N). He was covered in the blood of his lover and those he harmed today. Maybe it was all karma everything he had done…

It took another hour but finally, Techno’s body took control and he was out. Phil let out a long sigh before dragging the man into his own home. It was going to be a hard time for a while…

…

Phil thought Techno would be the same as the first night, that the other man would become unresponsive. His assumptions had been false though. In fact, it was worse.

Techno didn’t eat or sleep properly, which Phil had expected, but what he didn’t expect was for Techno to practically go insane as he poured over hundreds of lore books, trying to figure out how to bring (Y/N) back.

“Techno, mate, you need to take a break from this.”

“No, I will get them back. If I can just figure this out…I can do it.”

“You can’t do it if you die too!”

Phil went around these circles for hours, Techno sometimes striking low saying if he can figure it out, he could bring Wilbur back as well. Techno went full force into his work, the voices only encouraging his behavior as they threw out ideas to research. He had never listened to his voices more than now.

Techno had been so invested in his work, he didn’t notice when Phil gave Ranboo to build on the land, mostly because Phil gave him one rule, leave Techno be. Phil knew Techno the best and was trying his damn best to knock Techno back.

The blood god was pouring over notes for a hopeful experiment when Phil came in, food in hand as always.

“It’s late Techno, eat and go to bed,” Phil told him.

“After I’m done,” Techno muttered.

“Techno.”

“After. I’m done. Phil.” Techno gave him a dark glare before going back to his notes.

Phil sighed, putting the food down on the table. “Tommy locked Dream in prison.”

Techno frowned. That made him glance at Phil.

“Why?”

“Something about his discs as usual.” Phil crossed his arms, shrugging. “We got a notice on the radios that Dream lost two lives to Tommy.”

“Huh,” Techno mumbled, looking at his work again. “Kid should have finished him…”

Techno scribbled out a sentence. That wouldn’t make sense.

“Probably, I don’t know why he didn’t. Ranboo might know though.” Phil smirked to himself, his tactic working a bit well in his favor.

Techno’s interest was at least separating a bit from his research.

“Who?” Techno pulled over one of his sheets.

“The kid living outside the house.”

“Heh?” Techno looked up fully at that.

“He’s been here for weeks Techno; you’ve just been so caught up you haven’t noticed.” Phil pointed out now. “You need a break mate. You’re going…you’re going to kill yourself doing this.”

Techno looked at the papers in his hand.

“Techno, you need to fight another day. Come on.” (Y/N) tried to coax him away from preparing potions. “I’m tired.”

He clenched the papers as the voices were scattered, none of them focused on one thing right now.

“…Fine. I’ll at least talk to the kid.” Techno grumbled, getting up.

“Take the food.” Phil grinned.

Techno rolled his eyes, taking the bread but nothing else. He ate it as he left the house, his eyes not daring to travel to the beautiful flowers around the mound of dirt. Indeed, on his land, was a little house in the side of the hill. Huffing, he went over as the voices were skeptical, remembering one boy named Ranboo from L’Manberg and visiting Tommy.

“I can’t believe the little brat!” (Y/N) screamed as they paced around the house. “We gave him shelter! I should him love! AND HE BETRAYS US!”

Techno closed his eyes, his body shaking before trying to distract himself by knocking on the door.

“Phil?” A voice called from the other side before they opened the door.

The tall boy shrank seeing Technoblade at his door.

“Uhhhhh…hi,” Ranboo muttered, looking anywhere but the pig masked man.

Techno didn’t care really for pleasantries right now, so might as well get straight to the point.

“Hi, heard you might know why they locked Dream away rather than just kill him,” Techno grunted.

He hated the fact that Dream also had a favor over him. Would have been nicer for him if they had killed the smiley masked man.

“Oh yeah…I was there…hang on,” Ranboo muttered, taking a book off his belt and flipping through. “He uh…Dream said he had a book that could bring back the dead.”

Every. Single. Voice. Went silent.

As Techno stared at the tall hybrid, who shifted nervously at the stare.

“He did now?” Techno muttered.

“Y-Yeah. He said he could bring Wilbur back for Tommy.”

Techno didn’t care about the rest as his cape fluttered behind him as he took a determined march to the house to grab his things. If Dream wanted to cash in that favor, he owed him one more thing…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #technoblade x reader #dreamsmp x reader

502 notes · View notes

superphantom · 3 years

Text

It’s Christmas, Danny Phantom!

Welcome to the Superphantom Christmas special! I honestly can’t say I’m the biggest fan of Christmas myself, so this mayyy be a little bit of Santa slander. sorry? I hope to have the entire fic posted by Christmas, but it’s getting a bit longer than I intended for it to be. Either way, I’m having a really fun time writing it. Enjoy the prologue!

The picking had been rather dry for the last few months on the hunting front. Near complete silence from murderous supernatural creatures should be a good thing, a chance to relax. Instead, they were getting incredibly stir crazy. The library was almost completely catalogued, a testament to just how bored they were. Dean had turned to cleaning out the impala. He sorted through weapons, bottles of various substances (lamb’s blood doesn’t keep well. Especially when left under a seat for god knows how long), and old papers and floppy discs washed up into seams like they were sand the ocean had swept in. That last one was quite a surprise to find. With their Dad having died literal years ago and their general ransacking of all his notes there was little they didn’t know about his life. Or so they thought, at least.

Dean carried in a light cardboard box. All the technology within it was years out of date.

“Sammy, come look at this,” He shouted as he walked through the kitchen into the war room. Sam (who was rereading and notating a particularly dry book on Australian myths) shot in.

“What is it? Do you have a case?”

“Maybe. I think I found some of Dad’s old stuff, like old stuff.” He said, holding up a blue floppy disc.

Sam considered it, snapping and pointing at him. “Hold on, I remember unpacking a reader with all of Frank’s stuff.”

Sam, god bless him, took less than two minutes to go from the storage room they’d designated as the tech closet and back. Neither of them was particularly great with technology, especially as far as setting it up goes. A life on the road’ll do that to you. But messing with wires and trying not to get shocked was a welcome change. Finally, they had a new task to work towards. The computer systems were much too old to run tech as recent as the 80s, but the screens still worked just fine when running solely on the reader, if a little slow, malformed, glitchy. It was like running twitter on a 3Ds.

Three grey files popped up on the screen. The computer lacked a mouse, so Sam had to tediously click through them on the keyboard. The way Dean breathed over his shoulder, you would think him the younger sibling. Sam double clicked on the first one. A little loading ball appeared, rotating in small black and white increments. The lack of progress bar was a little disheartening. Each tick of the ball seemed to come slower than the last.

“You want snacks? I’m gonna go get some snacks.” Dean left his brother to lean on his palm and attempt to keep his eyes open. A bag of pretzels later the file finally opened. It was an archive of a newspaper, The Spectator. A big red banner ran across the top of the screen, headlined with the University of Wisconsin logo. The front page was pretty standard, welcoming students back to campus and giving their opinions on housing prices and coffee shops. A few pages down in the entertainment section a small clipping on band called the Skunk Punks caught his eye.

“Look at those mullets, yikes.”

“It was a different time.” Dean shook his head.

The real kicker was at the very bottom, barely a paragraph long. Tacked onto the bottom was a grainy photo of a woman and two men, all with iconically 80s haircuts.

Pictured: The Ectobiology Research Club. PhD Students Jack Fenton, Maddie Walker and Vlad Masters have successfully constructed “the first fully functional portal to the Ghost Zone”. Meetings are at 8 daily, all are welcome.

“Ghost Zone, huh. That sound familiar to you?” Dean squinted at the words as if the blocky text might contain more detail.

Sam shook his head. “Not that I can remember. Either way a portal to anywhere sounds like a bad idea.”

The next file took half the time to load, still enough to brew a pot of coffee. Dean set the pot down on the map table, wisely keeping it nearby. This page was full of notes. Photocopied chicken scratch of equations and diagrams, all detailing a miniature portal. Trying to read it cohesively was impossible, and figuring it out in chunks was just as boring as all the reading and organising they’d been doing before.

The third one contained screenshots. This time of emails.

--------

To: Jack Fenton 5779025813356327189 Thurs. 20 Nov 1980 10:42

From: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Mr. Fenton

What exactly is the function of your “Ghost Zone Portal”? I have great interest in your work and would like to meet up to compare notes.

Owen Booker.

--------

“Not another portal, for fuck’s sake.”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Thurs. 20 Nov 1980 11:00 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker

8790976895877463565

Dear Owne booker

We’re studying ghosts bringing the supernatural to the forefront! Club meetings are at 8 all are welcome we will be happy to see you!!!!!

Jack Fenton

--------

“Is this guy drunk?”

“He’s Dad’s friend, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

--------

To: Jack Fenton Thurs. 20 Nov. 1980 11:00 5779025813356327189

From: Owen Booker

8790976895877463565

Dear Mr. Fenton

I will be there. Thank you.

Owen Booker.

--------

“Jack Fenton… I feel like I’ve heard that name before. Any chance this email is still active?”

“I’ll go get my laptop.”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Mon. 1 June 1985 01:00 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Hello! Sorry for the break in correspondence, there was an accident. On the plus side, we’ve made exciting new strides in our research! Come over and catch up anytime, Jack and I have relocated. Look us up in Amity Park, Michigan.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“Oh, they got married. Good for them.”

“Wasn’t there three of them though? What’dya think happened to the other guy.

--------

From: Jack Fenton Fri. 12 Jan 1987 12:27 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Hello! Happy New Year. Just wanted to let you know we’ve relocated. 336 Sattee Creek Way, look for the Fenton Works sign, you can’t miss it. One of our samples has shown reactivity to harsh weather. More details will be provided in person.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“Sounds like a hipster tech startup.”

“Timing’s right, it might be one.”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Fri. 14 May 1990 15:50 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Big project in progress. I think you’ll be interested. Feel free to bring George and Logan along. We have a new son.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“George and Logan? Those are really the names Dad chose for us?”

“You’re just mad ‘cuz you got George.”

“Shut up, you’re George.”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Sun. 28 Sept. 1996 03:03 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

First official tests failed. What do you know about motors? Tests on enhancing explosive properties are inconclusive.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“I don’t like that these people have explosives.”

“It says inconclusive. Maybe they didn’t work?”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Mon. 07 Jan. 2000 07:41 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Thank you for stopping by. Hope you had a safe drive. Seeing some new progress on the portal. Should be up and running in the next few years. We’d like to invite you to come over next year as well.

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

--------

“Looks like they didn’t end up getting blown up, that’s good.”

“Looks like Dad was with them for New Years. He said he was hunting a shapeshifter.”

“Oh, I remember that year. I mean, speaking of explosives…”

--------

From: Jack Fenton Sat. 30 Nov. 2008 23:10 5779025813356327189

To: Owen Booker 8790976895877463565

Dear Owen Booker

Hey bookie! Guess what! I cannot tell you i n email. Remember when you used to come over for holidays ? we are having a party would love to see you. Come stay for christmas you can stay in dannys room!!!!!!!!!

Best,

Jack and Maddie Fenton

----------

“This one’s from only a few days ago,” Sam frowned. “What do you think?”

“Why the hell not, we need to check out this portal of theirs anyway. You feelin’ merry, Sam?”

“You bet. But if you put the on Christmas station in the car, I am jumping out.”

“Promise?”

“Shut up, jerk.”

“Jingle bells! Jingle bells!…….”

#danny phantom #supernatural #superphantom #christmas #It's Christmas Danny Phantom!#the christmas special #my writing #superphantom fanfiction #superphantom fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #this was an absolute nightmare to format. I'm never doing letters or emails or whatever again.#constructive critism welcome #i honestly can't remember dean's opinion on christmas so hes gonna be fuckin jolly!

70 notes · View notes

redorich · 4 years

Note

A favorite trope of mine has always been- getting to see another person’s past. Is it some kind of judgment thing by a higher power? Something like Freeze Day from SCTFOE? Person trapped in a nightmare and their nightmare is being projected? Who knows. All that’s important is after months of healing, some of the Hermits get to see exactly what Tommy went through. It shows short clips of him before being happy, the rise and fall of Manburg, Wilbur going insane, the festival, the withers, all of it. Just short clips of these things though. The last clip of the SMP is just Dream’s mask outlined by his green hood saying, “you’ll stay here alone with just me until you learn to be quite and respectful and not fight those who are in power over you. Even if you have to stay out here *forever*.”

This turned into a whole drabble smh xD

((btw @give-grian-rights helped me so thank you))

-------

The remaining hermits aren’t sure what happened. They have no way of knowing. There was a witch involved, Cub thinks, but what their fallen friends must have done to piss her off to the point of getting cursed is beyond their ken. Among those laid out are Cleo, Grian, Xisuma, Zedaph, and Tommy.

Scar and Cub work their Vex magic together to figure out that their friends are trapped in their worst memories. (Etho calls it a Demonic Hell Viewing Illusion, and False smacks him upside the head for the Naruto reference.) Holding hands with a victim pulls you in, but that’s what they’re counting on. Joe’s already wading through Cleo’s nightmare before anyone gets the chance to ask, and Impulse and Tango aren’t far behind doing the same for Zedaph. However, it doesn’t work for Grian, Xisuma, and Tommy; they were found already holding hands. They must have figured something out about the curse before they succumbed to it. All the hermits can do for them, for the time being, is hope.

Tommy, Grian, and Xisuma wake to the smell of sulphur and smoke. The ground is orange and littered with bullets. Grian grabs Tommy’s hand, and Xisuma grabs a discarded rifle. Tommy points his finger up at the top of a mound of scrap metal and dead bodies. There’s a nether portal, except the obsidian is whiter than quartz. That's where they have to go to get out of here.

All around them, demons lurch and shriek and hiss and all sorts of unholy behavior, bodily flinging themselves at the trio as though they know none of them can take the men on their own, and that just by dogpiling them all one of them will get lucky. Xisuma instantly snaps into a professional mode, the way he sometimes does when he's killing zombies but they keep social spawning. He takes up the lead with machine gun fire and grenades, carving a path through the crowd. Grian takes up the rear with a handgun. Neither Xisuma nor Tommy ask why Grian is so comfortable with a gun. They've got more pressing issues.

An imp gets lucky. It's just enough to crack the visor of Xisuma's helmet, and the imp instantly gets mowed down.

"I can't see," Xisuma rasps through gritted teeth.

"Then take the helmet off," Tommy says, cleaving through an enemy with a sharp piece of scrap metal. Grian breathes in sharply. As far as Grian's aware, Xisuma always wears his helmet.

Xisuma goes quiet for a second. "I suppose you've got a point."

The helmet gets dropped to the ground and demon limbs shuffle it away. They don't have time to look at Xisuma's wild brown hair, his purple eyes, the burn scars on his jaw.

They make it to the portal all in one piece. Xisuma takes one last wistful look at the Martian hellscape, then takes his friends' hands. They step through the portal together.

----

They step out of the portal into the foyer of a high school. Grian's eyes shutter.

"We'll be headed toward the roof, I believe," he says, staring dully through the spectre of a broken, bloody man holding a rope.

Tommy latches onto Grian's clammy hand to ground him as the three ascend stairs and traverse the dark, winding hallways. The ghost follows them. It isn't like Ghostbur-- it's, well, not vengeful, but it's not kind. The man named Gareth keens about Grian's sins, about a boy named Taurtis who Gareth hates, about mafia and yakuza, about his poor wife Jane.

On the last set of stairs, Gareth makes a wailing remark that causes Grian to bodily flinch. Tommy doesn't even know what the ghost said (he wasn't listening).

"Fuck off," Tommy says, "you're the shittest ghost I've ever met. Even my brother could..."

He trails off. This is not the way to fix things for Grian. On a hunch, he reaches into his pocket. Of course the object he's looking for is in there; it's his brother's coat.

He holds the object out to the ghost. "Have some blue."

Gareth warily takes it, dropping his rope. It floods periwinkle, then cyan, then dark royal blue. A weight seems lifted from the ghost's shoulders as he clutches the blue, mutters something about Jane, and leaves.

Tommy takes Grian's hand, then Xisuma's, and they go through the door to the school's rooftop together. They halt as one. The portal is there. Standing between them is a boy maybe Tommy's age, with a corpse at his feet.

"Sam," Grian whispers. "Taurtis."

The standing boy smiles, eyes obscured by a purple mask with a rectangular symbol on it, and flexes bloody wings. The corpse on the ground has blood all over its back, where wings once were, and broken headphones around his neck.

"Man, Grian, you really held out on me," Sam says. "This Watcher power really is something else--"

Sam topples over backward. His body hits the ground in front of the portal. Xisuma lowers his gun.

"He looked like bad news," Xisuma says.

Grian grimaces. "He was. Come on, let's go."

They once again step into the portal.

----

“Do you want to be a hero, Tommy?” Technoblade roars, “Then die like one!”

Their paltry little group of three gets no chance to take in their surroundings, to see what’s going on and where they need to go. All they can process is the legendary PvP champion, acolyte of the Blood God, Technoblade, unleashing Withers upon what once might have been a town.

Tommy yanks them into cover. “I don’t know where the portal is,” he hisses.

Grian squeezes his shoulder. “We’ll find it.”

Explosions rain hellfire down upon them from all angles-- not just the Withers, but TNT buried in the ground. They’re so close, they can see the man who set it off. And he must have, because he’s yelling about it, yelling about his L’Manberg and his unfinished symphony and begging his father to kill him. He’s wearing Tommy’s coat--

Bile rises in the back of Grian’s throat. Tommy wears his brother’s coat.

Tommy’s eyes are glued to the gleaming diamond sword that Wilbur gives to his father. He watches his brother die all over again, and he knows where he must go. He turns his back on his broken family and breathes.

“We need to go to the Nether,” he says. They nod.

The black portal is across the battlefield. They come across corpses more than once on their way, but ignore them. They can’t afford not to.

In the Nether, there is a rickety, dangerous pathway with no rails, made of cobblestone and obsidian and oak logs. Manic-depressive ravings on signs proclaim the path as the road to Logstedshire. Piglins try to knock them off to no avail, and ghasts blow up the bridge behind them as they run. On the other side of the Logstedshire portal is... actually not a hellscape, as Grian and Xisuma have come to expect, but a little village encampment. Nothing is blown up, nothing is amiss, except Tommy himself. And, of course, the figure they spot after they catch Tommy staring at it.

It’s Dream. The up-and-coming famous speedrunner who Grian faintly recalls killing once in MCC, which was apparently a big deal. The man approaches, and Grian realizes where he recognizes the mask from. It’s the same one that Tommy wears.

“Tommy,” Dream says conversationally, “items in the pit.”

Tommy’s hand wavers, reaches up to unclasp his chestplate, but Xisuma’s hand on his shoulder stops him.

“No,” Tommy says.

“No?” Dream parrots incredulously. “You know the rules. It’s for your own good. Armor in the pit. Tools in the pit. Friends in the pit.”

They all gasp, though for different reasons. Tommy’s eyes narrow. “Friends in the pit? You’ve never said that one before.”

Dream’s head twitches. “Friends in the pit. Friends. In the pit.”

The man’s voice is deeper than Tommy remembers. Something seems to resolve within Dream’s behavior, yet he keeps twitching. “You’re in exile, Tommy, you don’t need. Friends. I’m all you need. You were doing so good. I thought you learned to behave. I’m all you need. You don’t need friends.”

What happened to the eloquent poison that used to drip from Dream’s tongue like honey? He sounds like a broken record. All at once, Tommy staggers under the weight of the realization that this isn’t Dream. Somewhere underneath that horrible man that abused him is the real Dream, trapped in his own body and watching the dreamon that possessed him hurt his friends.

Xisuma’s gun makes an appearance again, but Tommy holds up a hand in a silent request for the admin to hold his fire. Tommy grabs Dream by the shoulders, removes Dream’s mask and then his own so that he can look the man in the eyes. “I know you’re in there, Dream. When I get out of this nightmare, I’ll save you. I swear it on my discs.”

Dream’s face twitches erratically. The movement spreads to his whole head, neck jerking. He raises straight up into the air, higher and higher, then explodes into a shower of items and no body. A white portal shimmers into existence.

“What the hell was that?!” Grian demands.

Tommy grins, taking the man’s hand and leading him to the portal. “I’ve got a friend to save.”

Grian snarls. “Tommy, he abused you. He’s not your friend.”

“That wasn’t Dream. It was a--”

“Dreamon,” Xisuma breathes.

Tommy nods. They walk through the portal together, and when they wake, holding each other close, they know they’ve got a mission. They can do it.

1K notes · View notes

wh6res · 4 years

Text

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person.

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve.

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun.

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings.

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll.

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections.

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to.

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail.

but you weren’t as lucky today.

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin.

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you.

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing.

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too.

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale.

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you.

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn.

she reminds you of yourself.

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck.

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job.

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again.

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you.

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine.

you look over your shoulder.

no one’s there.

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way.

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding.

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night.

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea.

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government.

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted.

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes.

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin.

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight.

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force.

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud.

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green.

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak.

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer.

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply.

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them.

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?”

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape.

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent.

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries?

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life.

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake.

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls.

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault.

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house.

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day.

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless.

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate.

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can.

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside.

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again.

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice.

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there.

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with.

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan.

you almost collapse against the brick wall.

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose.

until you saw who it was.

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday.

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try.

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma.

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down.

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times.

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left.

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes.

three times you’ve cheated death.

but time is up and your luck has run out.

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch.

naeun is nowhere to be seen.

good.

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare.

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience.

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it.

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket.

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances.

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper.

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you.

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder.

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you.

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings.

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you.

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke.

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone.

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath.

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase.

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium).

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin.

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them.

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory.

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball.

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

taglist !!

@hoeartchoke @donghyukcore @stopknot @greenish-taro @zhongriot @lmaoskz @zephyr-abyss @anonymous-stuff @josuke8 @jaemotel @winwiniee @dundun-baby @nakamotocore @hcwurld @alaeddis @recs-for-later @jaehyunssslut

wanna be added to my taglist? click here!

‎

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #renhyuck scenarios #renhyuck imagines #haechan imagines #renjun imagines #yandere haechan #yandere renjun #purge au #purge au nct dream #tw bullying #tw violence #tw purge au

451 notes · View notes

i-am-bibbling-piss · 3 years

Text

Watching their Watcher escape. (Writing!)

Still new to using Tumblr, so I’m unsure of how all this cool shit works. Enjoy the drabble though! This is my take on a Watcher Grian, so I’m gonna make him a special boy that didn’t get to go home! Light warning for angst and descriptions of pain.

Discs. Grian blinks awake, unsure of when he even fell asleep. The cold void greets him as it always has, empty and shining with stars that don’t truly exist. Yet this time, it’s different. There’s a pulsing warmth moving towards him, something he can barely remember before the time the watchers decided to claim him. They were so proud of him for being who he was, stripping him of his joy and excitement and leaving him in the inky darkness like a decoration, a trophy to show to all your friends to prove you’ve done things. On rare occasions they’d visit, stroking his hair and mumbling about how amazing and wonderful he was, but then they’d leave, his skin still tingling where they held him so gently. So cold. But… Warmth. This is new. Bee boy. Shifting, Grian’s muscles and bones ache to the core from not moving for god knows how long, screaming in protest as he reaches out to the gentle pulsing. Despite the pain flaring up, he continues, almost numbly so as he becomes desperate to feel that warmth on him. It changes and heats up further as he reaches out further. He’s now stretching his arm with light pops and cracks in the joints from lack of use, the sounds disappearing into the void. Echoes of laughter and voices he can’t recognize sing back to him as he drifts closer. Did he finally find an escape? …Did he not recognize his friend’s voices? Fear claws up his throat, and despite the flash of sharp stinging that makes his mind blank for just a moment, he strains both arms to reach forward, flailing them in hope to see his friends again. To remember their faces. The warmth surrounds him and soothes the aching, a hoarse whimper pulling out of his throat as he sinks into it. Black space and blue tinted lights fade into a glowing orange color, bright with clouds dotting the scene… There in front of him. A boy. Grian can feel the tears running down his cheeks at seeing someone for the first time since he’s left that cold place, limbs shaking with effort.

Feeling seeps into his nerves all at once. The grass under his feet, rocks and sticks digging in painfully to the sensitive skin. The wind moving past him in swirls of energy and life. The warmth of the sun on his face as it sinks down past the edge of the world. “Who the fuck are you?” Golden hair with a streak of white… None of his friends had hair like that. Did they? “What the actual fuck-” They stumble back, and Grian shakily raises his own hands. Talons? Paws? Grian looks down at his own hands. They look… different. He looks at the stranger’s hands. Pale skin with light scarring, five fingers extended with nails on the ends of each. Grian looks down at his own once again. Scaly and black. Flipping them, there are paw pads tinted a dark purple on the palms, sharp talons curling inward when he flexes each of the five fingers individually. “You- Are you a god? Are you with XD?” Everything is too much. Too much new information. “I-” His voice. “I don’t-” What’s wrong with his voice? “I don’t know.” Grian swallows back the wave of inhuman noises that threaten to spill past his lips, trembling like a leaf as his voice comes out… different. It echoes and swirls in the air like a chanting of voices rather than his own. Looking at the stranger, they seem to have heard the same thing, fear in their eyes. “I- Please. Please help me.” He lowers his voice to a soft whisper, afraid that if he speaks loudly again he’ll break down into tears with how much it reminds him of them. Hesitance. Grian’s begging a child to help him. Of all people, he should be seeing a therapist, and that thought alone is enough to make more tears fall. It’s surprising how much he remembers when he’s finally back home. Back as a player. And here he is. Asking someone who probably doesn’t even get involved in large server drama until they’re of age to heal the scars that Grian has endured, scars that therapy would help heal somewhat. “Alright. C’mon, you’re gonna attract attention with those eyes and wings ‘n shit.” A hand on his. Grian’s skin erupts into pins and needles at the touch, warmth flaring under his skin as his bones creak and melt into lava. It’s painful, and he widens his eyes as more tears fall. He can’t form the words to describe the touch fully, but the chanting in his mind screams pain over and over until it’s a symphony of shrieks and yells. Everything goes black.

#grian #watcher grian #tommyinnit #hermitcraft #mcyt #HOOH man #this shits fun to do #feet writes

29 notes · View notes

crystalirises · 3 years

Note

FundXD au thrid part? Maybe the final confrontation between Dreamxd and George? imagine George offering to take Fundy's place, but XD teases him because he obviously only loves Fundy now (before Mumza saves the day!! or whatever you had planned if you already had something in mind).

Not me accidentally posting it separately. But anyway, here's the third part! I'm sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy this.

But yeah anyway, please do take heed of the trigger warnings. This is probably now what I consider the darkest and the most uncomfortable one-shot I've written. Like in terms of themes, yeah I am just: oh wow I wrote this huh...

So yes, please do heed the warnings and do not read it if any of the the warnings make you uncomfortable.

TW: Forced Relationships, Forced Kissing, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Captivity, Implied Harm, and A Lot of Dark Implications

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/84740365

“A radiant day for a wedding, do you not think so, my fox?” If only the mattress could swallow him whole. He buried his face on the silken sheets, pressing the pillow to the top of his head, wondering if he could suffocate himself if he tried really hard enough. “Beloved? You’re quiet.”

He rolled his eyes, holding back the urge to scream.

After a moment, he felt the twist of vines against his ankle, gently pulling him away from underneath the covers. Fundy let himself be dragged, having learned the hard way that clawing at the bed to keep himself from getting dragged was a bad idea. He shuddered at the bad memory.

“My darling star, don’t you agree that today is a splendid day for our wedding?”

No, he did not agree. There was no day where he’d ever even consider marrying the god.

“I don’t feel well. Can we move the wedding?”

“Do not lie.” The room turned colder, the chill of ice piercing through his skin that he nearly buckled underneath the pain. Then in just a second, the cold was gone. He was still in his their bedroom, the sunshine filtering in through the glass-stained windows, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of color. XD was holding him by the elbow, their spherical head never faltering in its cheery smile, if one can call it a smile. The god pulled him into their embrace, holding him with such warmth that Fundy wanted to cry. They shouldn’t be so comforting. “You are well.”

“Ya…” Fundy felt like throwing up, “...well…”

For a god who had lived as long as the world, XD was not as patient as Fundy had hoped. It had only been a week, but the god had given up on Fundy’s flimsy excuses. Fundy had used every excuse that he knew: headaches, fevers, coughs, even “fainting” that one time XD had actually gotten him to stand on the altar. They had grown tired of waiting. Fundy turned his head towards one corner of the room, their wedding outfits only seemed to mock him. He shivered within the god’s hot touch, XD didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, but they noticed the way he was staring at those, arguably, beautiful outfits. XD led him towards them, holding him by the arms.

“I could change your suit if you wish, anything for you, my fox.” Fundy paled, refusing to look at the suit now that it was in front of him. It was in a beautiful hue of orange pastel, decorated with a pastel green flower pinned to its chest. XD had chosen to wear a dress for the wedding, and if Fundy wasn’t being held there against his will, he might have even blushed at the thought of the god in a dress… walking down the aisle. It was a mostly white dress which faded into a pastel green in the middle and into a forest green at the bottom. “You could wear a dress if yo—”

“No.” Fundy already loathed the suit, he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to wear a dress. At least XD didn’t mind, though - and Fundy knew it was stupid to feel - he found it somewhat adorable that XD wanted to wear a dress. The wedding dress suited them, even if Fundy didn’t want to marry them. The god hummed behind him, a low sound that had no lyrical or musical tone to it whatsoever, before picking him up. He shrieked, holding tightly to the god’s shoulders.

“My dear fox, the wedding will be divine, it shall take place the hour between day and night.” Fundy had a few hours of freedom. Then… He clenched his hands, angered that he no longer had his claws to tear into the god’s skin. “The wedding venue has not changed from the last time we tried to marry, but, sweet fox, would you wish for any new changes? What do you wish for?”

His only wish was to go home.

The god leaned down and Fundy knew what was to come. He closed his eyes, letting the god do what they wanted. Maybe he should have heeded his papa’s advice. Maybe he shouldn’t have befriended the god who seemed too kind to be true. Maybe he should have stayed at home and lived a normal life instead of searching for… he didn’t even know anymore. But he knew he missed his home, he missed his dads. He missed the normal life in their little cabin in the fields.

Once the god leaned away from the kiss, Fundy let out a sigh. “I want cake.”

---

“Wil, I love you, but now is the time for your ritualistic shenanigans.”

George tapped his foot on the muddy ground, placing his head in his hands as Wilbur ignored him for the tenth time. Wilbur had refused to say what his secret was, in favor of showing what his secret was. If George had known that said secret would involve Wilbur drawing intricate symbols in the mud, George would have gone deeper into the forest on his own instead.

After a few more seconds of agonizing silence and waiting, Wilbur finally stepped back, gesturing for George to come near him. He raised a brow, choosing to stand beside Wilbur despite the nagging voice in his head telling him to leave and go look for their son. George took in the symbol that Wilbur had drawn. He’d traced a circle in the mud, and within the complex lines, George could make out five symbols. The lines merged to showcase a woman. In her right hand, she held a blade. In her left, there were musical notes and discs emerging from her palm.

At the bottom of the symbol, the lines converged to create a pair of angel wings.

“Wil, is now the time to show me that you can draw—” He cut himself off once Wilbur started to chant under his breath. He stepped back, doubt racing through his mind. George had never been interested in magic, being more talented in redstone and engineering, but he feared those who excelled in the practice. Magic meant gods, and gods meant double-edged deals. “Wilbur…”

The symbol began to glow a light gray hue, the smell of metal and death tainting the air. His fear doubled, but he didn’t try to run off. Nervous as he was, he trusted Wilbur, his dear husband.

A splash of cold landed on his cheek, he brushed it away, but then a downpour of rain began to fall around them. The ground turned muddier, nearly grasping onto their legs. George looked up, furrowing his brows at the sight of sunlight. It was raining despite the warm sun rays that were filtering in through the trees. The intricate symbol wasn’t affected by the sudden storm, its glow intensifying underneath the torrent of water. George didn’t know why, but he felt sick. A sickness that wasn’t nausea, it was worse. Like someone had taken a sharp pickaxe and started to chip away at his heart. He held a hand to his chest, grasping for Wilbur’s arm with the other.

Wilbur’s chanting had grown louder despite the rain, almost like he was fighting against the noise. The light gray glow had taken over the entire drawing, the lines scorched away by its brilliance. Then the world began to shake, and for a moment, George could hear screaming.

He slipped once the earth started to sink. Wilbur pulled him up just as the ground gave way, the symbol had caved in, going deeper and deeper until he could see bright red. He shuddered, but Wilbur held him close. He had half a mind to throw his husband an irritated glare. If his husband would stop with the theatrics for a moment and actually tell George what his secret was, then maybe he wouldn’t be second-guessing everything that's happening right now. He glanced back down at the hole. Wilbur had just opened a gateway to the underworld. Despite the red lights of the underworld, the chasm let out a chilling cold that seeped deep into George’s skin and soul.

“You’re a hellspawn, is that the secret? If so, it was not much of a secret I already knew that, Mr. Soot.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek. Once Wil had left George on stable ground, he watched as his husband walked close to the chasm. Wilbur reached down a hand. George wondered if Wilbur was asking to get kidnapped. “Wilbur, the dead can’t help us.”

“You’re correct. Zombies are pretty shit at… everything. Skeletons… perhaps.”

George took a breath through clenched teeth. He knew Wilbur was worried about Fundy too, but he couldn’t afford to waste anymore time with Wilbur and his shenanigans. XD had taken their son, a wish god had taken their son and George knew the god would refuse to let Fundy go.

“Wilbur, please. We need to find Fundy. XD would do anything they could to keep our son from ever leaving them, we have to go.” He pleaded, but Wilbur was too busy looking into the chasm.

George loudly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The rain continued to pour around them, and if he didn’t hurry, he’d lose his way down the forest path due to the mud that was beginning to drown everything in its path. He turned to leave, but then a voice broke through the silence.

“A sunshower…? Did you forget to tell your own mum that you're getting married, Wilbur?”

---

Fundy flitted about the room, pressing his hands against his ears as the rain continued to pour outside. He didn’t know why XD had thought it would be romantic to marry one another while a storm threatened to destroy the land, but the constant tapping of the rain on the ground was beginning to grate on his ears. Despite the heavy rain, he hated the warm sunlight even more.

Why couldn’t the weather just be either gloomy or happy? It was a mockery of his life.

He glanced down at his suit, fixing the green flower so it wouldn’t fall off by accident. He didn’t know what XD would do if anything were to ruin their “special day.” He huffed, pressing his head against the glass window. He could see the neverending forest from there. XD had insisted that they live on one of the highest trees in the forest. They wanted to give Fundy a good view.

When XD had first shown him their abode, Fundy had been ecstatic to see the entire forest. He collapsed on a nearby chair, putting his head in his hands. Now everything felt like a big joke.

It was so wonderful before, but he saw through the roses, and now knew their thorns.

He looked back up, worried for a moment that XD would be standing in front of him, ready to whisk him away to the altar. There was a shift of movement at the right side of the forest, perhaps XD reimagining the wedding venue now that the rain had completely ruined the god’s chosen outdoor setting. He took momentary pleasure at the thought of the weather going against the god’s wishes. No, today was not a radiant day for a wedding. But Fundy knew that a “little” storm wouldn’t stop the god. They were too excited, too eager to get the ceremony over with.

Fundy winced, maybe his constant escape attempts had been the cause of that rush. It had only been a week since the god had taken him captive and kept him in their domain, but Fundy had spent every day trying to find a way to escape. He’d given up after the fifth escape… after… Fundy pulled his knees close to his chest. He didn’t want to think about it. But he had to. He had to keep a reminder in his mind about how much he loathed the god and what they’d done to him.

The first attempt wasn’t even an attempt, it was him screaming until XD forced him to sleep.

The second attempt had begun the moment the god had gone into stasis, or the godly equivalent of what was sleep. The god’s hands were wrapped around Fundy, keeping him close to their chest, but Fundy had managed to sneak away after hours of slowly moving. He’d gotten to the door of the bedroom, unlocking it with a bobby pin that he’d found in one of the drawers. He’d gotten down the tree by the time XD realized he was gone. They’d teleported him back to the bedroom, vines growing against the surface of the door, effectively keeping him locked inside.

The third attempt was Fundy painstakingly cutting through the clump of vines after XD had left him to prepare for their wedding. He’d gotten through half of them by the time the god had come back. They’d been disappointed in Fundy, sad that he hadn’t even gotten dressed in his wedding suit yet. Then in a blink of an eye, the vines had grown back, with even more thorns than before. Then XD had whisked him away to the wedding venue, where Fundy then pretended to faint.

The fourth attempt was Fundy getting so frustrated that he took a chair and threw it at one of the windows. The glass shattered on impact, and he’d quickly tried to squeeze through the space, not caring for the shards that pierced his skin. XD had not taken that escape attempt all too lightly.

The fifth and last attempt… he’d convinced XD to give him some sand and gunpowder.

The god had been furious, even more so than what they’d been after the fourth escape attempt. Fundy had nearly killed himself in the process and had even attacked XD out of anguished rage.

Well… XD made sure Fundy could never attack them again.

Fundy sniffed, wiping at his tears. He didn’t want to be crying at his own wedding.

---

It was odd to have a wedding without a wedding officiator. Fundy kept his gaze on his hands, his fingers trembling each time XD traced his knuckles with their thumb. He could feel his throat dry up, his head heavy with nausea that he thought he was actually going to faint and fall over.

“Do I take Fundy Lore-Soot as my lawfully wedded husband?” XD paused, “I do.”

Fundy found it ridiculous. XD had taken up the mantle of wedding officiator, and if Fundy didn’t know any better, he would think that he was part of some comedic play or some big cosmic joke.

“And do you, Fundy Lore-Soot, take the god of wishes, XD, as your lawfully wedded spouse?”

Fundy gritted his teeth, he could feel the god’s magic in his throat. He could barely breathe a few seconds ago, but now it felt like he needed to speak like his life depended on it. “I do. I do. I do.”

He trembled, uncontrolled anger racing through his veins. It was torture to say ‘I do’ once, but the god forced him to say it three times, like Fundy was as desperate as them to get married. XD pulled him close, their gaze hot against his skin. He wished he would melt, that he could melt against the god’s touch and be swallowed by the grass. Anything that could set him free.

“Then by the power vested in me as the god of wishes, I now pronounce us married for eternity.”

The god leaned close, “I may now kiss the groom.” Fundy tried to move back, but the god had formed one more pair of hands. One hand held his hands, curled gently around his wrists. One hand was cupping him by the waist. One hand was on his chin, pulling his face up and towards them. The last hand was at the back of his head, pushing him forward and keeping his head in place. He closed his eyes, losing himself in his mind, refusing to accept what was happening. He focused on the life he’d lost, and his dads who would no doubt why he never came back to them.

After what felt like a lifetime, the god finally let him go.

Well, they didn’t. But they’d stopped kissing him in favor of picking him up.

XD laid him down on the altar.

Fundy blinked, holding onto one of XD’s hands out of fear. The god chuckled at the “endearing” display. “H-hey… the wedding’s over, ya? Time to head home, right? W-what are you doing?”

“The ceremony is not yet over, my star.” XD tilted their head, “You are still mortal.”

Any thread of cooperation they had established broke with that proclamation. Fundy screamed, pushing himself away from the altar just as a series of golden chains rose up from its sides. They wrapped around his arms and his legs, pulling him back down on the altar’s marble surface. He wailed, tears slipping past his eyes. He thought he’d only endure it for this lifetime, that the god would have no choice but to give him up to death at some point in the future. XD watched his struggle, summoning an intricate dagger. “Don’t worry, my sweet fox, I shall make it painless.”

“I OBJECT!”

---

George pushed past the leaven doors, not caring that the action caused the whole entrance way to collapse to a flimsy pile of autumn leaves. He stood at the end of the wedding venue, drenched from the rain. His heart beated loudly in his chest, his ears ringing as he made his way down the aisle. Wilbur was still by the entrance. George had told him to wait before he actually entered.

“Papa—” Fundy’s scream was cut off with a hand, the god having swiveled around to face whoever had dared to ruin their perfect day. George kept walking down the aisle, anger racing through his bones. His son looked so frightened. He clearly didn’t want to be marrying the god.

“Let him go, XD.”

“Why ever shall I do such a thing, my dearest friend, Georgenotfound? I have no intention of ever letting my newly wedded husband leave me. My old friend, I believe you are a few seconds too late. Fundy and I are married.” He heard Fundy scream out a protest, muffled by the hand that the god had left. George could see the tears on their son’s face, and his gaze turned towards the dagger that the god was carrying. He took the chance to look behind him, catching Wilbur’s pale gaze. His husband was looking at the dagger. “Leave before I cast you out. You are tresp—”

“I’ll take his place.”

The only sound that could be heard was Fundy’s fit of screaming. Wilbur was silent. XD had merely tilted their head, the god’s cold gaze meeting George’s eyes, piercing right through the goggles that he wore. He swallowed down the sickness he felt at the thought of marrying the go. XD had been his best friend once, and George had never thought of them in any other way. But the god had taken his friendship as romantic affection. “Fundy doesn’t love you.” The god reeled back, the ‘XD’ carved symbol on their head disappearing, only to return as golden chains that surrounded their white spherical head. “You and I know he doesn’t love you, and neither did I.”

George shook his head, “But I am willing to stay with you if you let him go.”

He met his son’s eyes, holding Fundy’s gaze for as long as he could. He worried it might be the last time they’d ever see each other again… if it went wrong… George shook his head. It won’t go wrong. He turned back to the god, the chains still present. “We could pretend like nothing has changed. I could stay here with you for all of eternity. We could be friends again, you and I. It must have been lonely when I left. You were never really great with making friends with others. We could try again. Just you and me, stuck in this forest forever. Like how it used to be. I won’t run away anymore. I won’t leave you ever again. Let Fundy go, and I’ll stay with you forever.”

The god was silent. For a moment, George thought they would agree. Then the ground disappeared from underneath him and a large hand was painfully gripping him by the leg. “No.”

Sharp cold pierced through his leg. The god glared down at him, “You are nothing to me.”

XD looked over at Fundy, “He… He is everything to me now.”

George placed his arms over his head, preparing himself for the fall. He heard the loud screech, and then his leg was free. He closed his eyes, but instead of hard earth, he fell into a pair of warm arms. He opened his eyes, embarrassingly laughing once he’d realized that Wilbur had caught him. His husband placed him back down, looking at his leg with worry when George stumbled. It wasn’t broken, but XD’s sharp cold magic would keep him from properly walking for a while.

Wilbur helped him away from the angered god. George looked up, watching as the hand that was previously holding him rotted away. XD screeched, turning to them, their golden chains glowing with a blinding light. A scythe appeared within view, striking the wish god right on their face.

The Goddess of Death entered the wedding venue, a disappointed look in her eyes.

“You should have let my grandson go, God of Wishes.”

=============================================================

Ambiguous ending but uh... I have preferred ending and it's def not the bad one.

Clarification for the title (which can't be seen here but is in the ao3 version): So a sunshower is a weather phenomenon where it is raining despite there still being sunshine. While the rain is not as heavy as a storm, I changed the rain here to be that like a rainstorm despite the sunlight that is still present. The reason for this is because where I'm from (or at least according to my mother) when a sunshower happens, that means a kapre and a white lady are getting married (or well, other Filipino mythological legends are getting married).

I just think with XD here being a somewhat monster of a god... well, poor Fundy having to marry him.

The sunshower is basically an indication here that a god is getting married, that's why Mumza asked Wilbur if he was getting married (also Wilbur is the god of music here, not all that powerful against a wish god).

#fundy #dreamxd #dreamwastaken dsmp #fundywastaken #fundXD #wilbur soot #georgenotfound dsmp #georgebur #goddess of death kristen #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp

49 notes · View notes

halliwellsims4 · 3 years

Text

Something Wicca This Way Comes - P2

Roger: It was my idea to spark corporate interest in private donations. Not only have I been with this project since its inception, (Prue walks in his office.) but we both know who really secured the entire exhibit. (He swings around on his chair and sees Prue.) Prue ...

Prue: I quit.

Roger: (On the phone) I'm going to have to call you back. (He hangs up.) Think about this, Prue.

Prue: Lousy job, lousy pay, lousy boss. What's to think about?

Roger: Your future. Because, believe me, if you walk out with no notice, you can kiss any references--

Prue: Don't threaten me, Roger.

Roger: You know me. Had to try. You're hurt, you're angry, your pride is wounded. I understand all that. That's why you can't see that I'm doing you a favour.

Prue: Excuse me?

Roger: I had to take the exhibit away from you. If I hadn't, the board would have come and put a total stranger in my place. Think about it, Prue. I'm here for you. Not some stranger. You should be thanking me not leaving me.

Prue: Well, I'm not worried. I'm certain that your intellect will make quick work of the seventy-five computer discs and thousands of pages of research I left in my office.

Roger: You're gonna regret this.

Prue: Oh, I don't think so. I thought breaking up with you was the best thing I'd ever done. But this definitely tops that. Goodbye, Roger.

(She turns and leaves towards the door.)

Roger: I hope there are no office supplies in your purse. (She stops and wraps her hands around an imaginary neck. Roger's tie tightens around his neck and starts strangling him. He opens his draw and finds a pair of scissors. He cuts the tie off.) What the hell was that?

Piper: Phoebe, answer the phone. Answer the phone. (She hangs up and walks out of the booth. Jeremy walks up to her.) Oh, God, Jeremy you scared me.

Jeremy: I-I can see, I'm sorry. You okay?

Piper: Yeah, now I am. I really am. Um, what are you doing here?

Jeremy: Well, I wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your new job.

Piper: You always surprise me. How did you know?

Jeremy: You prepared your specialty, and everyone's who's ever sampled your work, can truly see how talented you are.

Piper: I get so turned on when you talk about food.

Jeremy: Hamburgers, pizza. (They kiss.)

[Scene: On the road. Phoebe is riding her bike. All of a sudden she has a premonition. In it she sees two boys on rollerblades and they skate right in front of a car which hits them. The premonition finishes. Phoebe continues riding and then sees the car and the two boys.]

Phoebe: No! Wait!

(She rides in front of the boys stopping them from skating in front of the car. The car honks and Phoebe falls off her bike.)

Prue: Hi, um, I'm looking for my sister, Phoebe Halliwell.

Nurse: One second please. (to Andy) What's the name again?

Andy: (to nurse) Inspector Andrew Trudeau. Homocide. Dr Gordon's expecting me.

Prue: Andy?

Andy: Prue? I don't believe it. How are you?

Prue: I'm good. How are you?

Andy: Fine. I just can't believe I'm running into you.

Prue: Yeah, I'm picking up Phoebe. She had some kind of accident.

Andy: Is she gonna be okay?

Prue: Yeah, she'll be fine. Um, what are you doing here?

Andy: Murder investigation.

Nurse: (to Prue) Your sisters still in x-ray's so it'll be another fifteen minutes. (to Andy) Do Gordon's office is to the left and down the hall. He's with a patient right now but you're free to wait outside his office.

Andy: Thank you.

Prue: Thank you.

Andy: Well, it's good seeing you, Prue. (They shake hands.)

Prue: Yeah, you too, Andy. Take care.

Andy: You know, Phoebe's busy, Dr Gordon's busy. Can I buy you a bad cup of coffee while we wait?

Prue: Sure. (They walk towards the coffee machine.) So, you're an inspector now?

Andy: What can I say? In any other city I'd be called detective.

Prue: Inspector's classier.

Andy: Liking it better already.

Prue: Your dad must be so proud.

Andy: Third generation. You bet he's happy. How about you? You taking the world by storm?

Prue: Well, I'm living back at Grams' house, and as of an hour ago, looking for work.

Andy: Oh.

Prue: I heard you moved to Portland.

Andy: I'm back. You, uh, still seeing Roger?

Prue: How did you know about him?

Andy: I know people.

Prue: You checked up on me?

Andy: I wouldn't call it that.

Prue: What would you call it?

Andy: Inquiring minds want to know. What can I say? I'm a detective.

Prue: The Chosen Ones? The Charmed Ones? Phoebe, this is insane.

Phoebe: Are you telling me that nothing strange happened to you today? You didn't freeze time or move anything?

Prue: Roger took an exhibit away from me. All right, look, Phoebe, I know that you think you can see the future which is pretty ironic.

Phoebe: Since you don't think I have one, that my vision of life is cloudy compared to your perfect hell? Even if you don't want to believe me, just once can't you trust me?

Prue: Phoebe, I do not have special powers. Now, where is the cream?

Phoebe: Really? That looked pretty special to me.

Prue: Oh my god. So, um, I can move things with my mind?

Phoebe: With how much you hold inside, you should be a lethal weapon by now.

Prue: I don't believe it.

Phoebe: This must mean that Piper can freeze time. (Prue grabs a shot of tequila and drinks it all.) Are you okay?

Prue: No, I'm not okay. You turned me into a witch.

Phoebe: You were born one. We all were. And I think we better start to deal with it.

Phoebe: When I was looking through the Book Of Shadows, I saw these wood carvings. They looked like something out of a bosch paintings. All these terrifying images of three women battling different incarnations of evil.

Prue: Evil fighting evil, that's a twist.

Phoebe: Actually, a witch can be either good or evil. A good witch follows the wiccan rede. 'An it harm none, do what ye will.' A bad witch or a warlock has but one goal: to kill good witches and retain their powers. Unfortunately, they look like regular people. They could be anyone, anywhere.

Prue: And this has what to do with us?

Phoebe: Well, in the first wood carving, they were in the slumber, but in the second one, they were battling some kind of warlock. I think as long as we were in the dark about our powers we were safe. Not anymore.

Piper: Has anything weird or unexplainable ever happened to you?

Jeremy: Sure. It's called luck or fate or some people call it miracles. Why? What happened?

Piper: Forget it. Even if I could tell you, you'd swear I was crazy. Now open your fortune cookie.

(She hands him one.)

Jeremy: Okay. (He opens it and reads the bit of paper.) Soon you will be on top.

Piper: It doesn't say that.

Jeremy: Yes it does.

Piper: Let me see that. (She snatches the bit of paper off him.)

Jeremy: Is that a bad thing?

Piper: Of the world. Soon you will be on top of the world.

Jeremy: (to the cab driver) Can you make a left on 7th please.

Driver: You got it.

Piper: Hey, I thought that we were going to your place.

Jeremy: We are, but you reminded me of something. I wanna show you the old Bowing building. The view of the Bay bridge is amazing.

Pharmacist: (to Phoebe) I'll be right back with your prescription.

Phoebe: Take your time.

Prue: Excuse me, where do you keep the aspirin?

Pharmacist: Aisle three.

Phoebe: Chamomile tea works great for headaches.

Prue: Not for this one it won't.

Phoebe: You know I'm not afraid of our powers. I mean, everyone inherits something from their family, right?

Prue: Yeah, money, antiques, a strong disposition. That's what normal people inherit.

Phoebe: Who wants to be normal when we can be special?

Prue: I want to be normal, I want my life to be... you know, isn't this aisle 3?

Phoebe: Well, we can't change what happened. We can't undo our destiny.

Prue: Do you see any aspirin?

Phoebe: I see chamomile tea.

Prue: Look, I have just found out that I'm a witch, that my sisters are witches, and that we have powers that will apparently unleash all forms of evil. Evil that is apparently going to come looking for us. So excuse me Phoebe, but I'm not exactly in a homeopathic mood right now.

Phoebe: Then move your headache out of your mind. (Prue stares angrily at Phoebe and a bottle of aspirin flies off the shelf and Prue catches it.) You move things when you're upset.

Prue: This is ridiculous! I thought that you landed on your arm, not your head.

Phoebe: You don't believe me.

Prue: Of course I don't believe you.

Phoebe: Ro-ger. (A few more bottle of aspirin fly off the shelf.) Now let's talk about Dad and see what happens.

Prue: He's dead, Phoebe.

Phoebe: No, he's moved from New York, but he's very much alive.

Prue: He isn't to me. He died the day he left Mom.

Phoebe: What are you talking about? He's always been a major button pusher for you. You're mad he's alive, you're mad I tried to find him, and you're mad I came back. Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad. (All the medicines and bottles fly off the shelves.) Feel better?

Prue: Lots.

Phoebe: The Book of Shadows said our powers would grow.

Prue: Grow to what? (They laugh.)

Jeremy: Well, here we are.

Piper: I don't care how amazing the view is. I'm not going in there.

Jeremy: Come on, come on. I have a surprise inside. (They step inside an elevator. Jeremy pressed the button and the elevator starts to go up.) You are gonna love this. I bet you tell Prue and Phoebe the moment you see them.

Piper: I never mentioned Phoebe came home.

Jeremy: Whoops. (He pulls out a knife.)

Piper: What is that?

Jeremy: It's your surprise.

Piper: Jeremy, stop it, you're scaring me. Damn it! I'm serious!

Jeremy: So am I. See, I've waited six months for this. Ever since Grams went to the hospital. I've known for some quite time that the moment that old witch croaked that all your powers would be released. Powers that would reveal themselves as soon as the three of you got together again. All that was needed was for Phoebe to return.

Piper: It was you, wasn't it? You killed all those women.

Jeremy: Not women, witches!

Piper: Why?

Jeremy: It was the only way to get their powers. (In a demonic voice.) And now I want yours.

(Piper screams as Jeremy raises his arm about to stab Piper. She puts her hands up and he freezes. The elevator freezes as well.)

Piper: Okay, think, stay calm. I gotta get outta here. Okay.

(She climbs up onto the next floor. Jeremy unfreezes and he grabs her leg. He tries to pull her back into the elevator but she grabs a wooden two-by-four and hits him over the head. He falls to the floor unconscious.)

Roger: Prue, it's Roger. I've decided to let you come back to work. Seriously, let's talk. Bye.

Prue: Piper's definitely not home unless she's turned into a cat.

Phoebe: How'd the cat get in?

Prue: I don't know. Someone must have left the window open. Um, did Piper leave a message?

Phoebe: She's probably out with Jeremy. Roger called.

Prue: Yeah, I heard.

Piper: Prue?

Phoebe: In here. (Piper locks the door.) Piper?

Prue: Oh my God, what is it? What's wrong?

Piper: Lock the doors, check the windows. We don't have a lot of time. Phoebe, in the Book Of Shadows, did it say how to get rid of a ...

Phoebe: Warlock?

Prue: Oh my God.

Jeremy: I'll get you, you bitch.

Prue: I'm calling the cops.

Piper: And tell them what? That we're witches? That some freak with powers beyond comprehension is trying to kill us? Even if the cops did come, they'd be no match for Jeremy, and we'd be next.

Phoebe: (At the top of the stairs) I found the answer, come on.

Prue: Okay, we've placed the nine candles anointed with oil and spices in a circle.

Piper: Wait, I only count eight.

Phoebe: Oh you forgot this one. (She holds up a birthday candle.)

Piper: A birthday candle?

Phoebe: I guess Grams was a little low on witch supplies.

Prue: Alright, we need the poppet.

Piper: Got it.

(Phoebe lights the birthday candle and puts it in the pot.)

Prue: Right, we're set. Get ready to cast the spell.

Piper: Okay, first I'll make it stronger. (She gets a rose and places it on top of the poppet.) "Your love with wither and depart, from my life and my heart, let me be, Jeremy, and go away forever." (She presses the rose thorn into the poppet and places it in the pot.) Okay, the spell's complete.

Prue: Let's hope it works.

Phoebe: Wait! It didn't work.

Piper: What?

Phoebe: The spell, it didn't work.

Prue: How do you know?

Phoebe: When I touched the pot, I had a flash. I saw Jeremy.

Prue: You touched the pot and you saw him?

Phoebe: He's on his way here.

Jeremy: Hello, ladies..

Prue: Piper, Phoebe, get out of here now!

Jeremy: Cool parlor trick, bitch. You were always the tough one weren't you, Prue?

Prue: Phoebe, you're right, our powers are growing.

Piper: Put as many things against the door as you can.

Jeremy: (From outside) Take me now, Prue. My powers are stronger than yours. (He laughs.) Do you think a chair will stop me?

Do you think a dresser will stop me? (The dresser slides away from the door.) Have you witches figured it out yet? Nothing, nothing can keep us away.

Piper: What do we do? We're trapped.

Prue: Come on, we'll face him together. Do you remember the spirit board?

Piper: The inscription on the back.

Prue: The power of three will set us free. (A circle of fire surrounds them. They hold hands.) Come on, we gotta say it together.

Prue/Piper/Phoebe: The power of three will set us free.

Jeremy: I am not the only one! I am one of millions! In places you can't even imagine! In forms you would never believe! We are hell on this earth! You will never be safe! And you will never be free!

Prue: The power of three.

Andy: Good morning!

Prue: Hey, this is a surprise.

Andy: I've been feeling really guilty about that bad cup of coffee. I just want to make it up to you.

Prue: So, you brought me a good cup of coffee?

Andy: Oh this? No, this is mine. I, uh, just wanted to ask you out to dinner. Unless of course you're afraid.

Prue: Afraid of what?

Andy: Oh, you know, having too good of time, stirring up old memories, rekindling and old flame.

Prue: Hmm, good point, better not.

Andy: Okay. Friday night, eight o'clock? You're hesitating.

Prue: Yeah, but it's not what you think. It's just that my life has gotten a bit complicated. Can I call you?

Andy: Take care, Prue.

Prue: Bye, Andy.

It's Andy. I told you I heard a man's voice.

Piper: What did he want?

Prue: He asked me out.

Piper: And you said ...?

Prue: I started to say yes and then I stopped. I wondered if I could date. I mean, do witches date?

Piper: Not only do they date but they usually get the best guys.

Prue: You two will not be laughing when this happens to you. Believe me, everything will be different now.

Phoebe: Well, at least our lives won't be boring.

Prue: But they'll never be the same.

Phoebe: And this is a bad thing?

Prue: No. But it could be a big problem.

Piper: Prue's right. What are we gonna do?

Phoebe: What can't we do?

Prue: We are gonna be careful, we're gonna be wise and we're gonna stick together.

Piper: This should be interesting.

#TS4 #ts4 story #charmed ones #charmedsims4 #halliwell sisters #thesims4 #halliwellmanor #ts4 simblr #piper halliwell #prue halliwell #phoebe halliwell #andy trudeau #darryl morris #1x1 #charmed #charmed sims #celebrity sims

18 notes · View notes