#however i remembered that dbd exists so

[sharksnshakes]

Wesker Tormenting A New Survivor! HCs

It's too bad that nobody taught you, the new survivor, not to make a fool of Albert Wesker. It looks like he'll have to teach you himself.

A/N; every day y'all become more and more psychic. bc this was sitting in my drafts and @vasani was like 'yo can u take a crack at wesker???' so this is me, here, taking a crack at wesker. can't get over the fact that RE's most fearsome villain is named albert

Wordcount; 700ish

TW; dbd typical violence, death, mentions of mental and physical violence, suggestive themes, toxic behavior, narcissistic behavior, cursing, albert wesker is The Worst

Wesker thinks he's above everyone and everything, so let's make that clear right off the bat. Mans legitimately thinks he's unparalleled, please someone tell him to humble himself??

Anyhow.

That being said, Wesker's not the type to single out specific survivors. UNLESS, of course, the brand new survivor calls him a bitch to his face. Then, all bets are off...

What ticks him off the most is when he's made a fool of, especially by someone he sees as below him. Especially when you, a mere survivor (and a new one at that!) manage to somehow beat him at his own game, distracting him while the rest of your team escapes.

When you make it through the gates, he's 1) stunned and 2) furious. How had he been so shortsighted? How had you managed to actually outsmart him?

He swears to never let it happen again--and what better way to do that then by teaching you a lesson?

Trials with Wesker are immediately 1000000x worse than any other killers. The ambiance totally changes:

The air feels thick, unbreathable; there's a sense of complete and total dread that sucks the breath right out of your lungs. Tree branches sag, heavy with the promise of a bloody trial to follow.

Takes out the rest of your team as soon as he can in favor of focusing on you, like, they're Mori'd within three minutes.

You don't exist to him until any potential interruptions (your teammates) are eliminated, and will be straight-up ignored until they're out of the picture. Will Mori your teammates right in front of you in increasingly violent ways, staring at you and only you while he does the deed.

Aggressive, but in a weirdly calm way. He's cold and precise, very calculating, but won't hesitate to lash out in a moment of fury. Though logic guides most of Wesker's actions against you, emotion takes over more often than not...

Ex; Wesker would Mori you with his hands, but he thinks you're too far below him to deserve it, so you'll get Uroboros instead.

Not only does this scare you shitless, but it prolongs that feeling of helplessness he's trying so desperately to instill in you.

Also, he was literally the head of an elite tactical force, so not only is Wesker ruthless, but he's incredibly methodical. Knows how to wear down an opponent in every way and will do it to the point of overkill--he wants to watch the hope drain from your eyes on repeat. Nobody makes Wesker feel like a fool. Again, he's trying to teach you a lesson.

Studies you in and out of matches (everything from healing your teammates to fixing gens).

Not dumb enough to get close to the campfire, but when you're swapping stories with other survivors, you often get the feeling someone's watching you just out of sight.

I hate to say it, but Wesker's one of the killers you have, like, zero fighting chance against. Will actively laugh at you if you try to fight back, then slam to you against the nearest wall with Uroboros... ouch.

He's kind of a paradox tbh, because he doesn't want to give you attention (everyone's below him, remember?) but wants to knock you down a peg, effectively, painfully, over and over and over again. The only way to do that is to study you, so mans is suffering from INTENSE cognitive dissonance. Please send him to therapy.

Unlike other killers, he won't really get attached to you over time?? He is, however, royally pissed off when other killers mention how they Mori'd you, and will be twice as intense in the next trial he has with you. Mans is lowkey territorial.

TLDR; when Wesker targets you, he will target every aspect of you. He'll tear you down physically, psychologically, emotionally, and he'll do it to the extreme. He feels a need to regain his stolen honor, and, just like a bully on the playground, he thinks the best way to redeem himself is to push others around. And if anyone threatens that--whether they're a killer or a survivor--he'll take them out, too.

Yikes...

To say the least.

[skayafair]

I've been thinking back to Shadowhunters TV for about a week every now and then because while DBD reminds me of DGHDA by its vibes the most, there was only one other show that had such a healing effect on me as DBD, and it's Shadowhunters.

There was a queer romance as one of the VERY main plotlines, and malec were THE healthy couple while others had their issues. (Not that malec didn't but theirs were of a very different kind.) There was unrecruited love, attempted best friends to lovers (I can't stand this trope for personal reasons and SH only backed up the way I felt - funny how this doesn't make DBD any worse for me though), gay coming out, TONS of serious questions like xenophobia being addressed, idk I can't list it all, there are just too many. But the fact is, it was just as honest and heartfelt and kind and I kept coming back to it to reflect on my life, just like with DBD now. I watched it in spring, just as the last episodes were airing, and it was a very difficult time for me - I was recovering from yet another burntout and Shadowhunters gave me hope and the feeling of a new beginning. I still remember it vividly and love the characters. It was a magical experience.

Shadowhunters had s4 planned but it wasn't greenlit, so the scriptwriters had to wrap the plot up in a about 2 episodes and I think they did a fantastic job. But the point is, I was able go enjoy this story in full - yes it was 1 season shorter but it didn't feel lacking. There are still 3 full seasons, they aren't short, aren't dragged-out, it's as close to being perfect for me as it can get.

I sincerely hope DBD gets this treatment, too. It's spring again, I'm recovering again, and it gave me much comfort. However, during those years I've taken to listening to podcasts and got used to the idea that whatever I like may not come back for more episodes. So I've learnt to enjoy what is already there. The Bridge podcast I'm looking at you, you don't even have the 1st season finished and you're so brilliant and unique 😭 I'm grateful that the season ended the way it did - if we get more, great, we have all the leads, if we don't - it's just as good as s standalone season. I'm very grateful that these 8 episodes exist.

[heretyc]

Trager, Eddie and Val DBD pages (+ some headcanons)

The DBD Killer page maker disappeared off of the face of the Earth, so I had to work with what I could find, unfortunately. Credit to PierceLeVeil on Reddit for the templates! (I added the Mori sections)

Just a lil note: I like to think that the Entity spoils the killers and leaves the survivors to rot. In this you're a survivor because I had more opportunities <3

Trager is definitely a hit-and-run killer like Wraith, but he'd benefit from losing the chase, and immediately finding the same survivor so his ability can stack.

He'd be a douchebag lol. He'd tunnel and camp you if you angered him.

If he has a challenge to do, I honestly think he'd let you farm. Maybe hit you a couple of times. Some challenges are just too stupid to try and do normally. Also gives you both a break.

He would 100% befriend Doctor. That's what I wanted to call him till I remembered that Carter existed. They'd exchange torture methods or something.

He scares Lisa Garland. She hates going against him.

If he moris you, he'll take your fingers. That's it.

He also likes it when he hears your pained groans. Iron Will is his enemy.

If you use Dead Hard against him, he'd get pissed.

"Are you fucking kidding me? How did I not see that?"

If he camps you while you're on the hook, he'll taunt you.

"How's it hanging, buddy?" "Get. fucked."

He hates Trickster. It's the hair.

At first he hits people on hook, because he thinks it gets them sacrificed faster.

Him and Entity probably drink martinis together.

He likely stole the Hooked on You cosmetic set from Dwight. He wanted clothes for the beach, baby.

Drags you to the Killer side after every trial so he can patch you up.

"Those med kit things you use are shit. Come to me instead. I still have my license...I think."

Gets a little pissed off if other killers rough you up. That's HIS privilege, not theirs. Even then, he's tamer with you.

He doesn't sleep. He sees no reason to. He will, however, allow you to sleep in his cabin. The survivor tents are uncomfortable, anyway. You always wake up to a bug in your face.

If any of your teammates are rude to you, or they're purposely throwing, he becomes annoyed.

Fascinated by Blight.

Eddie's playstyle is 100% like Michael's. He'd stalk after one survivor and let the others do their thing. However if you constantly swap the Obsession, I think it'd be fun.

You are always the Obsession. How lovely.

He chases after you, and only you. But he doesn't like killing you off. :(

If you're hiding in a locker to heal or to use Head On, he will stand outside of it and smile. Waiting for you to come out.

He eagerly shouts "darling!" when he pulls you out.

He is the type to mori someone beside you as you're doing a gen.

If someone runs by you as they're being chased, Eddie will just smile at you and happily ask you to just ignore him.

Becomes devastated if you're harmed by other killers.

He, also, doesn't sleep. He'll cuddle you to sleep, though.

Not the type to camp unless you're the one being hooked. He isn't doing it to be a dick, he does it so he can stare at your face.

Becomes merciless if your teammates become rude to you. Refusing to heal you, not letting you work on gens with them. Just sit back, relax, and let him handle your teammates.

He keeps to himself.

Doesn't like the survivor side, and will bring you to his abode whenever a trial ends.

Becomes anxious if you're in a trial for longer than normal.

Dances with you outside of trails.

If you're the last one standing, he will refrain from giving you the hatch. You're both alone, you can bask in each other's presence for as long as the Entity will allow it.

He loves outdoor maps. Lerys makes him angry. Just like everyone else lol

Would match cosmetics with you.

Val's playstyle would be similar to Nemesis, I find. Addons would make the Heretics unstoppable.

Very fond of outdoor maps, especially Mother's Dwelling. They like the rain.

Affectionate inside and outside of trials.

Every killer and survivor knows not to bother the both of you. Heretics will no doubt guard their abode.

Will wear their robes in trials that you're not a part of.

Scolds killers who rip you to shreds.

I think they'd like Plague. Plague can't understand Val, and vice versa, but they'd enjoy each other.

Hag, too.

You'll meet up with the survivors before a trial, and they will see saliva all over your face. Val thinks licking you will bring you good luck.

Worships the Entity like you wouldn't believe. Because of this, I think the Entity will allow your safety as long as they're merciless with everyone else. [Also...come on. Multiple armed being? Feeds on suffering? This was meant to be.]

If they're chasing someone, a random Heretic will find you and watch you. Maybe even lead you to a generator or a chest. They are intrigued by flashlights. Especially the event ones.

Laughs at whoever tries to blind them if they're coated in mud. Built-in Lightborne, baby.

Trickster would likely try to pick them up. They're both freaks and it'd end up in an orgy between you, Val, Trickster and some Heretics.

Will sneer at survivors if they do something rude to you. All Heretics immediately go for whoever tried to sandbag you or tried to sabotage your chase.

Finds you attractive in any cosmetic. It could be hideous and they wouldn't care. All the more reasons to take it off of you.

They wish Knoth could be here. So they could torture him for eternity.

They LOVE hearing your pained grunts. Not only do they enjoy pain, but they love those noises.

[fictionallyinparadise]

Day Twenty-Seven, Afraid

Twenty One Pilots goes BRRRT. Anyway <3

[mandalhoerian]

Death Before Dishonor | 1

Pairing: darth vader x reader, anakin skywalker x reader

Notes: fem!reader, mandalorian!reader, inquisitor!reader

Summary: You have become the young war hero Anakin Skywalker's right hand in his pursuit to reunite the galaxy in Emperor Palpatine's reign. It's the rumored aftermath of the war between dark and light, but you are a Mandalorian, Jedi and Sith don't mean anything to you, in fact, they are the same existence that led to the destruction of your planet a millennia ago. Their war is something you don't care to know about, you're aware you won't understand anyway, there is a lot you're told to keep your nose out of as just a soldier to obey commands.

One of those things is the distinction between Darth Vader and Anakin Skywalker; you weren't told why they must be addressed as two separate beings. Who he is really and who he appears as to the HoloNet confuse you endlessly when they are the same in your mind: both look at you in secret mourning.

You can't afford to find out why.

Warning(s): the reader is fucking UNHINGED, like there's barely any fluff and plenty of dark stuff in there. mentions of death, violence, allusions to smut/sexual relationship. it's a vader/reader story and both of them are twisted. the bond between them is not funny haha its funny weird. ur kinda (!!!) emo yikes sorry abt that lmao but hey at least you have gaslight gatekeep girlbossed your way into inquisitorship, you also respect vader the same way markiplier respects lady dimitrescu, aka "its not a sexual thing its about power" . i love this dynamic hhh

Author's Note: this is like my first story/post on tumblr and the prologue got 60 notes, I'm so happy, thank you to all those who showed their support, honestly I did NOT expect it!

Please don't hesitate to send me any asks/submissions if you'd like to talk more, I would love to hear feedback and your thoughts! I hear there's something called "tag list" and everything, so if you'd like to be notified when dbd updates, please contact me! Happy reading!

Word Count: Over 10K im so fucking sorry

prologue | 1

You had fought by Lord Vader's side for as long as you can remember. It was the clearest memory you have in your life. Only through experience would someone come to know purpose is something this addicting, it really left nothing in a person unrelated to anything other than what it desired. And right now it desired to serve Vader until your last breath.

You didn't lurk in his shadow like a hidden tool to be used, no, but went out of your way to bare your teeth at any kind of threat he pointed his sizzling lightsaber at.

You slashed your way across the stars, blinded by the red bloody victories vibrating the ever-treacherous life in your veins, only to be satisfied with them in a span short as the blinding explosion of a supernova. Yet they seemed to be more addicting in the aftermath of a star storm, leaving an emptiness ravenous for more━━always hungry for more.

Even though being a prisoner of war has elevated you to stand with a strong warrior like no other as him, you believe it is an honor to be allowed not just a few steps behind him, but standing right by his side. Not everybody is strong enough to desire that position. Only the ones who don't owe anything to death itself would do what you do, and oh what an old friend of yours death is.

After Galactic Empire's foundation, the darksaber, the sign of the Manda'lor, has been cemented on your hand as the greatest mockery to your planet, crowning you as the one representing Manda'yaim, and keeping you as a hostage to ensure their loyalty. The Mandalorians may have been engaged in a never-ending civil war to bring the other party down for years, but they didn't take kindly to outsiders trying to bend the knee of another Mandalorian, even when it was their enemy. 

However, the outsider they sent to do the job was different. 

You remember Vader descending on your planet of desolation, to crush their necks into submission like a blackened god of war carved from soot-black diamond dissatisfied with his subjects; ardent, burning breaths branding the fear of oblivion on all of the clans. He was a mighty, volatile dragon.

You remembers the awe, the catharsis striking your heart like a bolt of thunder, that this creature of pure force and vigor is the true warrior you had been looking to fight for all your life. Most importantly, the honor.

You, despite your identity of a true Mandalorian, once upon a time might have been betraying that heart by keeping a dream of spring instead of wild flames of rebellion; you might have been having visions of a peaceful family tinkering in joy with laughter, with light━━however, those mirages were soon shattered by the ruthless claw of that black dragon the moment he set his eyes on you. The same dragon that clenched your respect and loyalty and in an iron grip, gave you the pain of having ambition and woke you up to the unnamed potential lying deep within you. The shapeless darkness swirling inside your guts like newborn worms turned into snakes, turned into basilisks, and snuffed out even the tiniest specks of hope and light you had for your clan. They didn't deserve your loyalty, they were nothing compared to the almighty strength he radiated like a whole galaxy burning away just like that.

And you happily knelt, instead of cowering in fear, you embraced the slithering, domineering dragon as the one who you wanted to serve, wore his mask as his Inquisitor and in the competition of being the best, stroke down every single Jetii he showed as a target. Your Mando'ade heritage gave you the best advantage of them all, and you fought not because you were told to serve the empire, but because you wanted to wage war under Vader's glory and honor your roots in your own way.

Now they sneered at your name, whispered traitor behind your back, yelled dar'manda at your face as they challenge you to duel after duel to take the darksaber back. They had turned their backs on you right after you were taken to Coruscant, and yet they saw the righteousness in themselves to smear your name in the dirt? 

Wear your anger as you gird on your armor, says Vader, and you do, you never forgive them, give them the fury of a thousand dying, screaming stars and continues to maul the galaxy for fugitive Jedi. Every time you succeed, you can feel Vader's respect growing ever so slowly, and that feels like a rare treasure every bounty hunter, pirate and scoundrel is after in the galaxy.

You may have been just a failure as a Mandalorian in the eyes of your clan leader Pre Vizsla, but you will bring no dishonor to Darth Vader.

Inquisitorius was silently protesting you.

What a shocker.

The hidden part of you seeking for acceptance wanted so badly to get to the root of the problem and discard it entirely upon solving it; however, the current you who had bathed in the flames of your master's enlightenment desired to crush those who even dared to attempt disrespecting you —— and that dominant part was feeding off of the shadowy, putrid abomination of a thousand years old primeval suffering of the former, mutating the weakness into something monstrous.

Even though you had shed your skin like a snake and had become a completely different kind of reptile, it still hadn't changed what remained inside and it would never change the attitudes people were going to have towards whatever you liquified yourself to take the shape of. What more did they want from you?

It felt degrading to admit that you would be forever hurt over never being acknowledged, all you ever knew was shame over rejection and homesickness for something more after all. Having bled into your shadow, it was still haunting you to this day like an archaic curse.

Nobody would listen to your voice back at Concordia, you always felt like weak embers of a trampled campfire, barely able to lit yourself back on again with the help of an occasional gust of wind. The loneliness of an entire galaxy —— the empty blackness that laid between stars and planets would fall upon your shoulders, and you would feel as tongueless as The Force, ever-existent but never able to directly make yourself be heard.

Being entirely powerless against a society you were secretly a nonconformist in crumpled your already defeated heart, it was always hell under the sky for you on that Force-forsaken moon. Not only were you a muted oracle, but you had to witness your people perish at the hands of what you had constantly warned them about as well —— had to see your closest family's head roll off his shoulders with what he stubbornly refused to let go of.

Now seeing you were stuck in a cycle just frustrated you. The reality that you still got the same treatment like it was out of some dumb history repeating itself cliché from a holodrama stung you unexpectedly when you had first noticed it, but all it did at the moment was to pour hot oil on your anger. Especially when you finally had someone who accepted you for who you were and more, a person who you harbored unbreakable respect for and would follow to the ends of the galaxy with inexhaustible loyalty.

And some silly childish boycotting by power-hungry ex-Jedi was enough to tip the glass of your sanity and make you plan an entire massacre, just because they were a possible threat to you bringing honor to this man.

Vader looked like an obsidian statue with his unmoving black-cloaked figure standing right in front of the entire window wall, facing the black vastness outside, gazing at the planet engirdled by his hive-like fleet. The Emperor had ordered a siege, and as much as you majorly operated as an Inquisitor, you were also Vader's right hand, meaning your aid was consistently needed aside from Jedi hunting conquests. However, you couldn't even solve one single problem to give your full attention to the current case on your hand.

Your helmet under one arm, contempt-flushed girl that you were tried your darnedest to stop your teeth from loudly gritting as you voiced the unnecessary question as an affirmation of his already established rules. "We are still working on dealing with the holo-faker, my lord."

A couple of heartbeats long of time filled the silence in Vader's headquarters in the spaceship before he slightly turned his head around as if he wasn't sure he heard you correctly. "The holo-faker? He is supposed to be six feet under at this very moment. My orders were crystal clear. What is the meaning of this?"

You wanted to bury yourself in a hole at how his eyes narrowed at the irrelevancy - because he was right. Former golden politician of the previous Galactic Republic, the marvel woman of Naboo, Padmé Amidala, had kicked off the decision to close all the military bases the empire had on capital grounds, thereby triggering the emperor's impatience over silly power games. They were to stand their ground until further orders came from the imperial senate and block all trade and travel routes.

And you were talking to Vader about the holo-faker they were already done working with.

You weren't fretting over having had not obeyed him, but because of not having control over the other inquisitors even about getting the smallest job done —— it affected and delayed everything.

If you were hiding under the cooling steel of your mask, it would be easier to hide the exasperation you were trying to suppress in front of Vader —— even though he always seemed to be aware of what even you yourself didn't know were feeling, as if they were color-coded and were displayed with labels right in front of him waiting to be read aloud. Yet, you still tried to hide away the displeasing details you found would be gum under his heavy metallic boots, so that you could deal with them on your own and your lord wouldn't bother himself with them at all.

He was meant for the glory of the battlefield, the ashen scented blood-red victories waiting for him across the galaxy, Vader was made out of the infrangible amalgamation of sun-soaked gold and black Mandalorian iron —— he certainly was above the clownery happening in his ranks.

He turned to you suddenly. The little hairs on your neck stood on their end with a sudden, blinding flash of a spike in the Force, right after the realization dawned on him, he didn't need to hear from you what went down. Though an endless ocean of stars illuminated him from behind and reduced his form into a shadowy blur, you could easily tell his burning yellow eyes apart.

Shame cascaded down and you had to anchor your gaze down at your feet to remain stabilized. "My apologies, I shouldn't have dared to busy you with trivial matters such as this. I——"

You heard his loud footsteps slowly approaching, each sounding like pillars of concentrated iron thundering down on the ground belonging to a titan.

You didn't fear what his reaction to was going to be to your failure, an army of furies were batting their wings violently in your stomach at the very notion of disappointing him. "Forgive me for my ineptness, I should have done better."

His warning as he reached you felt too feathery for something meant to be alarming. "There is nothing to forgive. Raise your head."

Golden mist clouded your brain upon the close proximity, chilly air of the spaceship turning lukewarm on your skin like you had been resting in a sunbathed arbor for a while.

It was foolish to think this way about a man as lethal as him; bravery and fearlessness were two different things and you were sure you were neither of them.

Your heart betrayed you by humming sleekly whenever he was close and you sometimes wondered if it was because you had become as terrifying as of an abomination just like Vader —— perhaps both of you were tuned to a beastly kind of menace in your ways, who knew?

When you remained succumbed into silence, Vader put his non-mechanic fingers under your chin and raised your head to look you straight in your eyes. The rush of sparks spreading on the skin there shocked you slightly, flinching at the never-ending coyness that washed over you every single time something like this happened. "Never bow to me like that again. You aren't on the level of those incompetent fools."

Vader was nothing but a vengeful, flame-drowned dragon of darkness, extinguishing novas sprouting in the galaxy with void-dipped fingers tasting of sin —— yet, there was undeniable tenderness blossoming as asters and starflowers in his gaze, affection of a primeval being of colossal chaos trying to be so careful in his way of reaching out to not swallow up the subject of his deepest admirations.

It was directed at you and shook you to your core every single time.

You would drown in that bottomless well, not knowing what to call the waters, for never had anybody ever looked at you that way before, you didn't know anything like it, as if you didn't have red on your armor —— as if you were an entity created to be loved and loved only; a starseed of the universe, darling, beloved, dearest.

Like all things truly evil, born from pure star-white innocence.

"I won't idly stand by when petty attempts of competition are slackening my troops." Vader sighed, anger creeping back on his spine as he pulled his hands away from your skin, eyebrows pulled together in contempt.

His inquisitor found the decision unwise, not wanting him to exert himself with idle subjects, for he was a Lord of the Sith. "Lord Vader, you do not need to waste precious time with getting involved in this, you are above that. Leave this to me."

Something in the sentence ticked him off, and you knew very well that Vader never held back when he found disrespect directed at him, but you didn't understand whatever you could have said that upset him this much.

"Very well, then," he said, turning his body back at the glass wall, and both of them stared in silence at the horrid portrait of Naboo, resembling a dead animal surrounded by hungry wasps.

He didn't dismiss you, and he explained the reason why soon enough. "However, it seems that order needs to be brought to my chain of command. You know what you have to do."

Sometimes you couldn't explain some of your own behavior in a way that made sense. Like while sleeping, you always seemed to curl into yourself like an animal would preserve body heat, always clutching your abdomen to yourself instinctively. Acute longing for something so delicate would seep into the hard ice surface of your stinking rotten soul; sad, sad, endlessly melancholic for an unknown loss.

You mused it was for all the things you never had and what they turned you into; the regret it stank with. But that was not it. Your arms would itch to hold, your heart would expand like you had been a saint all along, but as the dawn brought the deepest darkness along with the cold, you would cast those pitiful vulnerabilities down to the hell of your sins and emerge as the newly appointed Supreme Inquisitor.

A durasteel fist of the Galactic Empire never wept, so you turned to scorching hot anger and let the flames evaporate them, relishing in the burning pain bringing sense into you.

Pain was the most uncomplicated emotion of them all, such primitiveness and simplicity eliminating anything that tried to get close, so you only allowed it to be a part of herself. There was no going back anymore. You had already made your choice and it was to fight for Darth Vader, rejecting your entire Mando identity and embracing being a dar'manda —— a state of not being Mandalorian; not an outsider, but one who had lost your heritage, and so your identity and your soul, regarded with absolute dread by most traditional-minded Mando'ade.

You were a Mando'ad no more. To your people, you had no soul. Perhaps that was true, you had sold your soul to the dark dragon to gain power, yet you were still holding onto the darksaber which belonged to your people to spite them all, trapping the souls unfortunate Jedi and traitors to the empire in the pitch-black blade —— unconsciously trying to fill the void where your soul once shone like a lone star with them, but none of them fit. None of them ever would.

It only ever felt mended when you had him. When he had you.

All locked within those moments of heavy hot air, damp breaths, sparks popping on lips stained with burgundy and sin-heavy with unsheathed words, freezing dew clinging at the back of two intertwined bodies, earthquake tremors running down your limbs as you yearned and ached. Furnace hearts pumped lava into the cracks webbing your skins, purified black eyes with the universe captured in them clashed in the dark with a sky blue like it has never met one before —— like two suns crashing into each other and burning everything, melt any darkness, painting you with molten silver and gold so that in their journey the touch would sing and chime with murmurs of starlight.

It is the only light you know, the only light you have ever felt, all of them coming from a darkling; steely pristine skin that crackles with electricity when you touch, a lion's mane for hair and merciless pools of inflamed despair for eyes surrounded by tired black and purple —— an ugly fireborn dragon wearing a celestial's face.

Endlessly pained for something you can't look directly at.

It taught you that fire does not only burn, but it is also a source of light as well.

However, that last part was only for you, who (foolish, one might think) had never feared the flames and pain, who didn't hesitate to soar in the skies, aiming for the sun itself with wings made of feathers and wax, you persisted. And not even once did you feel anything other than admiration, respect and desire to be close for him.

Your eyes are not their former color anymore anymore, you knew, they are as sulfur as his, as if to reflect him somehow, to reach him —— yes, to catch up to him, you didn't want to lose that feeling of destiny, the immeasurable amount of raw strength pouring into your soul through the unexplainable yet tangible bond connecting you to Vader.

You couldn't name it, maybe it was delusional and drunken of you to feel like you were dipped in a novastorm whenever you fought back to back, ever the addictive sensation, but that thing enveloping you in a blanket of apricity and curiously, home, would make the unshaped words hanging about meaningless in the end.

It didn't need to be said out loud, monsters of the same kind would stay with each other nonetheless —— and you were delighted, it was serendipity that he found you, even his acceptance was more than enough.

So you got up, as long as you were needed by him, you would always get up, no matter how deep you had fallen.

Standing around a giant bulky holotable, three inquisitors of different races and genders had their blank eyes on the three-dimensional map of Naboo in front of them, having just been informed by an imperial attendant of the latest news. The silence fallen upon them was swallowed up by the near bustling stormtroopers and anxious military officers attending to their duties, going around the main bridge of the unmoving Star Destroyer one hundred kilometers outside of the planet.

First Brother, a well-groomed Miralian male with shimmery pink skin and diamond-shaped light purple tattoos scattered around his nose area, was the first one to shake off his speechlessness. The luminous blue of the hologram map glinted in his eyes, reflecting a welcome surprise. "The Supreme Inquisitor. Huh."

Third Sister retaliated, the iciness of all the metal surrounding them had seeped into her limbs, she stood motionless but her anger was an alarming red. "I can't believe this."

Eleventh Brother was playful, the shade of the hologram painting his mischief-holding yellow eyes blue like his skin. He was bulkier than the other two, however, the way he spread his palms on the edge of the table and put his weight on them and leaning over made him look smaller than he was. "How well do you think she screwed Vader to swoop the rank from him like hair out the butter? The man must have been to the neighboring galaxy and back."

The female inquisitor's frustration was dripping into the Force. "He is thoroughly blinded. I can't believe it. The Emperor must know about this."

The Miralian, however, was annoyed and uncomfortable in his own skin, imagining a thousand eyeballs materializing above their heads directing their unblinking gazes at them. It was a touchy subject. They were treading on thin ice by talking about it in an open space like this, he knew very well of the infamous temper of Vader when he even felt like his decisions were being questioned. "You metalhead, of course he already knows about everything. Who do you think Darth Vader is?"

The Pantoran tilted his head comically to agree with him, while the sister crossed her arms, taking a more defensive stance. It had fueled her forward, not even close to stopping her. Third Brother had to press on. "You're also forgetting who she is."

Her fingers were twitching slightly. "She charmed you as well."

"Charmed?" His voice got unconsciously higher and he heard Eleventh Brother taking in a long, exhausted breath, this was quickly turning into a heated conversation. "All the girl does is completing the missions she is given. Why are you so agitated?"

Third Sister suddenly opened her arms wide. The respect for Supreme Inquisitor obviously ticked her in the wrong way. "Because she gets undeserved favoritism!"

"I just told you why it's not undeserved. You're really letting your reason fly away like that?"

Eleventh Brother, then, physically came between them at the disdainful non-verbal mention of dark side, eyeing the officers slowing down to take a look at them now fully shouting at each other. "Come on, don't get heated up both of you." A lazy smile spread over his face. "Let's agree to shag Skywalker and get ourselves some well-deserved vacation, huh?"

But it did nothing to calm Third Brother's nerves, he wasn't overly relaxed like the other guy. "Ssshhhhh! Do not address him like that! You're going to get blasted in the head."

"I don't think he's that strong in the Force to pick up whatever comes out of people's mouths. At least not yet anyway," was his response. The Miralian knew he was doing his best to lighten up the mood so this didn't end up as a mistake getting one of them in trouble in the end, but calling Vader by that name anywhere, even in secret, meant a direct death sentence, it wasn't something to be joked about.

"It's Lord Vader to us, be careful."

"Relax, I'm not that dumb." The sudden emotion showing itself towards the end and curtaining over his face shocked the other inquisitors. "It's just. . . I find it hard to get used to. He was someone else before, you know?"

They were all flashing back to the same day, who the most called Great Jedi Purge. The silent Third Sister had been the one to speak first, after a while of solemn quietude. "New meditation techniques not working for you?"

"Not in the slightest. If he found out I am behind on this, Vader would chop off my left hand as well. . ."

"That is meant to teach you loss and pain, it's not a punishment," Third Brother intercepted, ignoring the slight humor his fellow inquisitor was using to mask his weakness. He was a guy that followed orders, and it was very pristine to the eye. Dark Side hadn't been able to purge that out of him.

"I think we've experienced enough loss and pain, don't you think?" It was a throaty murmur that came from Eleventh Brother. "The absence of a limb means nothing."

When a surge in the Force came the Miralian's way, it was too late for him to stop Third Sister from continuing to ramble on. "Speaking of which, did our Supreme get any of her limbs cut away?"

"Oh for the love of —— drop it."

"No, listen. This is not fair."

"It's about individual progress, you can't put her and yourself in the same equation, it doesn't work like that," he whispered, getting hurried and irked with each word mainly out of fear. The holomap was already forgotten. They looked suspicious, huddled up together like that. "We were Jedi, it's hard for us to leave the old ways behind. She only has been exposed to the dark side. It's natural that her advancement is different."

It was logic. Though it penetrated her ears, the meaning never reached her completely. "The way she fights —— I can't wrap my head around it."

Her eyes moved left and right, erratic as she remembered, countless battles coming one after the other, lining up in her head. Each one of them focusing on one pair, always together, never going the opposite way in a clash. Moving in complete harmony and sync, reminiscing one superior mind controlling two separate bodies. "She completely parallels Vader, it's like they are parts of the same machine and I think I'm going crazy sometimes when I think about it."

One hand was holding onto her elbow tightly, the other hand moved up and down, vertical to the ground, to emphasize her words. "There's no way she could have picked up on the technique that fast without getting special treatment is what I'm getting at. It's the main thing that infuriates me."

"Is it?"

"What are you suggesting?"

"It is because she became more masterful in a matter of months isn't it?" First Brother said, not holding back in the slightest, calling her out on it. The way her chin moved in a circle with a completely closed mouth gave her away. "Her achieving that level of skill and leaving the rest of us behind pisses you off because you're envious of that power. It's the greed talking, not you."

"But you can't say that I'm wrong," she shook her head, raising her eyebrow with a smile like she was proud of a secret. "The Al'Verde, Unifier of Mandalore or whatever the kriff her other titles are, I don't care. She can't be capable of this much."

In the corner of his eye, First Brother saw the burly Pantoran getting very shifty on his feet, a sign of anxiety from him.

Then he noticed why, as the sign hit him too, a chip in the force, like a faraway warning.

Third Sister was getting too vexed to notice it as she didn't stop talking for one second, and Third Brother was lost in the moment once again. "She's meant to be a pawn to the empire, a hostage, because all those helmetheads only seem to get smart when it's about war. The idiot had it coming for getting involved with the Rebellion. Everybody knows this, yet we still have to pretend."

She was talking about how Mandalore was forced to make a treaty with the Galactic Empire. This event, even though it led to her eventual arrest and recruitment into the military, had made way to Imperial Initiative in which the newly started empire went on a treaty spree to collect all the Separatist, Neutral and rogue planets without violence. This was of course a plot to force the planets into peace, but it was still effective.

"Now, compare that to me, do you get the picture? I deserve to be in a superior higher-up position, don't you think?" Third Sister almost commanded, the corners of her eyes crinkled, eventually turning into a full-on glare. "Even if we leave this all aside, she doesn't even know how to use the Force that much and here she is, the great Supreme of Inquisitorius. This is not fair."

"It doesn't matter. Do you want me to flash the headline on HoloNet or something?" Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair. "The number of successes you bring to the empire decides your worth. Last time I checked, Mandos were on a different tier considering the warmongering past."

"So? That doesn't prove that she isn't privileged."

"Maybe because being a political figure requires the empire to make her look good." Once again, Eleventh Brother tried to sweeten both of the worked up Inquisitors. He thrust his fists into the air in a caricaturish, slow victorious manner.

Third Brother wanted this conversation to be over, the unrest pooling in his stomach was too alarming to be ignored. "It's because she's better at our job than you are. Face it. There is nothing else to it."

Third Sister's arms, untangled from their lock earlier, now dangled down her sides. She gave a bitter laugh. "It's not exactly encouraging motivation-wise when you feel like you're disposable."

Eleventh Brother snorted, his usual mocking still there, but now molded with irony. "I thought you already knew we are expendable to the empire."

But the person who responded wasn't either one of the three. "You are."

They didn't even feel her coming, gliding up to them from the shadows. And suddenly, the famous darksaber was peeking out from just beside Third Sister's neck, the inquisitor's face contorted in raw shock before she dropped to the ground, trembling and clutching the raw burn. It was the loud sound of her hitting metal that made the other two scramble back in panic, their hands hanging afloat.

"Stars!" was the only thing coming out of the Miralian before he had literally jumped out of his skin, the Force hadn't even poked one of them, not a last-second warning at all too. Third Sister was about to be executed just like that.

Inside of his skull was white. Void of any thoughts. Nothing came to mind. Third Sister literally laid violently trembling at their feet.

Supreme Inquisitor's force signature slammed on their faces much later, like the heel of a foot descending on a bug, the faint crunching sound got to him in his imagination and he looked at Third Sister once again, sprawled out on the floor. He felt an entire wall of frosty fury pressing down on his body, and not even a smudge of remorse was there for almost taking a life.

Eleventh Brother was just as horrified, his cowering stature resembling a frightened child's, which was ironic because the woman in front of them, standing silent and mute while waves of danger rolled intensely out of her through the Force, was much smaller compared to his species.

The Pantoran and he held eye contact for a fleeting second. The former's face held a fear of death while Third Brother was still thinking about the current overwhelming presence being entirely missed by all three of them, how long had she been listening to them for?

Her T-shaped eye lenses, contrasting with the black of the mask she had on was hiding her expression; but the almost glowing red, accompanied by the white glow darksaber flared, was more terrifying than any emotion her face could contort into. "Get up."

Third sister stammered, none of her previous vigor present. "What?"

"Get up. I see you have complaints, I want you to walk me through them."

First Brother had to do something. "Supreme Inquisitor, please overlook her childishness just this once - "

"I am not talking to you." The blood red lens of her helmet stayed focused on her target. "Sister. Take out your lightsaber and feel free to test my skills to your liking. But know this. If you do, I will treat you like as you'd like me to, and we will go at it until the end. You know our ways."

Stuck right where she was lying on the floor, her eyes momentarily met First Brother's, who mouthed, "Don't," at her behind clenched teeth without any sound.

She ended up saying, "Forgive me." The haunted look in her eyes was avoiding directly coming to contact with the Mandalorian woman. Upon the crackling silence that followed, Third Sister tried again, higher-pitched and a slight panting in her breath. "Please forgive my impudence."

"Anyone else that wants to question my credibility further?" was what Supreme Inquisitor asked, not a declaration of Third Sister's death sentence, thankfully. When she was met with silence, she turned off the darksaber, yet didn't put it away. "Anyone else that wants to stay and gossip instead of doing their jobs?" 

Silence. 

"Anyone else that volunteers to do as they were ordered and get rid of the holo-faker?"

Third Brother and Eleventh Brother stood straight. "We will get to it," the Miralian said shakily.

"You better."

A bottomless pit of abiding nothingness was expected to be cold, but sometimes you would think it could be a bit warmer because of the stars it was pregnant to burned with all their might.

Myriads of stars and suns, withering away and blossoming at the same second were furious in their hearts beat to the rhythm held the balance together, yet the universe remained colder than beskar still.

It was proof no star could ever be enough to warm up their home, not even the supremest of them all. And perhaps in their sorrow, they all ended up as black holes, swallowing up anything in their way to fill the hole where their burning souls once stood brightly as the hearth for the planets under their wings. 

But you could never be cold. Not when even the spaceships were perpetually freezing. Your fire sang too vigorous for that. There was a furnace akin to a star at its prime nuzzled inside your ribs constantly keeping your palms unusually warm, especially when you were sent to planets with chilling climates for a mission. Your peculiarly high temperature made so you uncomfortable sometimes that you wore so little while physically training. It was unnerving for those under you that you could withstand icy environments so easily. Some even thought you were half-robot as Lord Vader and couldn't even feel physical contact anymore.

No, you experienced pain on a different reality than others did. You were sure Vader did as well, it was your fuel to the Dark Side. So much so that it was addicting at times to inflict it to other people and yourselves. You fed on it as if you were one of the Anzati preying on the life source of others to survive. It was necessary. It was vital. One could never get used to pain, but to accept it as a fundamental part of the path to the dark side had done the trick for you.

That's why you could understand why Lord Vader bit back complaints about his steel arms and legs never seeming to fit and holding him back from his full potential. They hurt him immensely,  although his face in plain sight didn't even wince you could feel it; his yellow eyes didn't sour over with pain yet nevertheless, you felt it in your own body - even when he kept it from pouring into The Force itself, you felt it as if you were being hurt.

But while you didn't know what to do with it, Vader used that agony, he internalized it and brought forth an entirely different kind of might that terrified down to the bone whoever dared to cross him. 

Vader always knew what to do.

But you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the things you had heard the last day. Rebellion was ringing in her ears wherever she went and whatever she did. Mand'alor.

Among other insults hurled at her, nothing had bothered her as much as nobody disagreeing with the late Third Sister. All the briefings, all the reports, all the patrols during this past couple of days were all spent on thinking about what in the hell they were talking about. You were none of the things Third Sister had claimed her to be.

You were the last remaining kin of Pre Vizsla he had adopted into the clan, wasting away in your atelier with your stupid idea of reconciling with the current government of Mandalore, daydreaming about it while fixing weapons and armor. The girl who had never been able to become a full-fledged Mandalorian smelled of oil, dust, metal, shadows, and underground, she was too weak to even talk back to her blood. She wanted to run and fly but was chained to a dustball of a rotting planet moon. She was nothing before Lord Vader had found her. 

However, you couldn't forget about it. It was constantly in your head, like a damned bug crawling through the curves of your brain and scratching away at the flesh walls of the organ, it kept slamming its way right in front of your skull, pounding in her temples as a persistent headache.

Why did they call me that? Why did they say that?

Was it sarcasm? No, it couldn't have been.

It was scary how obsessed you had become with a tiny minute detail when it meant nothing at all. You had sat down and thought about what you were expecting but there wasn't anything you could grasp at. You just couldn't get it out of your mind and that was it.

So you trained. For hours and hours a day, you practiced and meditated. There was nothing else to do. You were ordered to lay low and wait at Naboo's door, no one could go anywhere, so you did the best with what you had.

There was only so much you could do in the limited area of the training ground they were spared in the main spaceship. The floating metal monsters were made for combative military purposes and not military drill ships used for education and field practice after all. If they were informed of a blockade of this kind beforehand, the preparations would be more suitable for their situation.

Therefore you ended up requiring a partner to work with, granted that training equipment was not present.

A partner, being the partner, who had always been the only opponent you had sparred against, Darth Vader of course. 

Maybe you couldn't tell him what had you fearfully hypnotized for so long, but you could use him as an anchor to clear your thoughts and achieve lucidity that way. Vader was an in-and-out kind of one-man army with no distractions whatsoever and that had inspired you in your own way of handling work. Not only did straightforwardness find a new meaning in him, but you felt closer to clarity by his side as well, it gave you a refined sense of strength.

When you came together blade-to-blade instead of back-to-back, you and Vader were identical if not paralleled, one the hands and the other the legs of the same body, you were like the complementary halves of a single warrior. Vader, due to his overly bulky cybernetic limbs, moved with the power of roaring ocean waterfalls, he was unstoppable; meanwhile, you were the shadow and the wind, the sacrificed speed and mobility completing him in a different body - you appeared out of nowhere, struck, and disappeared.

Despite having the chance to spar with Vader himself after a long time spent with deeds for the empire, you didn't manage to clean her mind off the noises repeating over and over again right in the middle of your nervous system. It was reflecting on your motor and reflective abilities, you couldn't keep up with him today.

"You came here to clear your head but your mind is still distracting you," was Vader's eventual response after wiping the lusterless steel floor with your backside for the nth time.

You always got up whenever you fell, having a feline's agility and swiftness akin to lightspeed but he was not having any of it this time, it was obvious from the dismissive frown distorting his youthful face. The red glow of his lightsaber was gone in an instant.

Calling your own lightsaber back, you didn't have any difficulty in extending the Force as a limb to retrieve it whenever it had flown off to. As soon as the hilt caressed the skin of your palm, your fingers closed down on it as if you wanted the crush the useless thoughts plaguing you.

Darksaber's idiosyncratic sound was higher pitched than any other used by the Jedi and the Sith, but it had the peculiar ability to respond to its wielder's emotional state. You had noticed the erratic electrical effect pulsating like a heightened heartbeat, but you didn't want to stop due to accumulated frustration. If you were indeed a machine, there would be smoke surrounding your burning limbs from clashing with the cold atmosphere. "I can keep going."

There was no way Vader was not aware of the emotional storm raging inside of you, he even sank his hook into the tiniest of specks you went out of your way to hide, yet he was calmly observing at where he stood. "I'm not enjoying myself anymore, this is pointless. So how about you tell me what's been bothering you instead?"

Of course he goes for that, you sighed. Always straight to the point. You couldn't confront the root of her problem at hand, you didn't even know what was bothering you this much. It was obviously speculation on their part of something. The whole Inquisitorius may have been informed that way to help you assert your superiority, but you still couldn't bring yourself to at least investigate it.

You had forgotten this part of you existed at all. It had been buried deep down the seven circles of your soul where even the Force itself couldn't shed light upon it. Your weaknesses: hesitation, coyness, pudency, dastardness - your old needy self who was always pushed into the shadows. Remnants. They deserved to rot in darkness; crumble away until they were nothing but ash and dust under your feet. The old you of Clan Vizsla, who would tremble and scream and grieve in terror if she ever knew the person she would become was the infamous tyrannical Supreme Inquisitor, needed to die.

A warm campfire singing with the dancing fireflies wouldn't stand a chance against a devourer wildfire raging against the night; it just didn't work that way. You needed to kill it.

Your head twitched up when the darksaber turned off by itself. You felt Lord Vader's extended power return back to his shadow after lingering for a little while, thinning the oxygen around her by its mere presence. "You know I'm not one to waste my time."

"Too much waiting," you blurted out when it became evident if you were to stay silent, he would try to pry into your mind, he kept staring at you without moving a muscle - like he was one of the unsettling ginormous milky alabaster statues standing tall in front of the Imperial Senate Building.

Vader rarely ever did disturb the privacy of your inner world, he didn't need to, he just knew you like the inside of his palm, and you never hid anything from him either, you trusted him more than you trusted yourself.

Your obstinacy tended to keep things away from him whenever failure stamped itself right on your forehead - because you were ashamed.

But this was different. You could tell Vader had noticed as well.

You were simply very tired, the black spandex of your training wear was sticking to your skin because of the sweat and the braid you always kept long to wrap around into a circle at the back of your head so it could fit inside your helmet was a messy bird's nest. You couldn't find the strength in yourself to weave an intricate web of lies to keep Vader away from your worries, so you opted to only reveal some of the truth as you took a few steps back to wipe your forehead and the back of your neck with the towels neatly folded and laid right beside a variety of weapons ranging from target blasters to melee weapons such as techblasters.

Later on, as two black silky cloaked-figures stormed through the deck like flowing gravity-driven drops of ink to get to Vader's quarters, tearing seas of white armor and black uniforms apart as they glided along in sync, you finally voiced some of your worries but not the entire truth. Your mask caused your voice to sound artificial and monotonous enough to hide the intent behind. "Why is Naboo special? There were other planets to try the boundaries just like this before. What are we doing here?"

The man's booming steps didn't falter, he kept on power walking as he usually did. The only giveaway to his surprise was his golden gaze immediately getting drawn to your frame. "That's unusually curious of you."

"I suppose it is."

Corridors of the metal maze they were in curled in different directions as you talked, occasionally wrought with artificial white, red and blue lights blinked and streamed past you in streaks. It was all in the background, as you were only awaiting Vader's response. "The Emperor has not said anything yet. We are to stand our ground."

He was tight-lipped when it came to The Emperor. Tenuous shadows obscuring his reflection in The Force, meticulous and ten times more intimidating.

Beings with no force-sensitivity perceived it as Vader holding their necks tight in a noose, or perhaps an unsteady sword floating right above their heads. He was at his most merciless when he was escorted by The Emperor's words. It was hard for even you to speak your mind freely, not because of the fear, but because deep in your soul, you sensed a fresh, gaping wound, and it had The Emperor's handprint next to it.  

Not lingering on it, you uttered your evergrowing uneasiness snowballed with the word Rebellion about the task given to them. "Lord Vader, this looks like a false cover-up for an intended invasion to me. Why else would we be here?" Your job didn't end with supervising the Inquisitorius as Darth Vader's right hand, you also participated in keeping the order in the empire. Those required having to always keep moving and never stopping in one place for too long. Even Vader couldn't stay at his castle in Mustafar to rest for more than days between the duties. The wait for something from Naboo had been unnervingly delayed. It had rightfully taken its toll on your agitated state of mind, and you thought maybe relieving herself from at least this distress might give her more control.

"No need to think about those things. We will do as we are ordered. The battlefield is our only concern." An automatic response, usually given to his inferiors. What followed after was not. "Why is this bothering you so much?"

You started speaking only when you arrived at Vader's dull grey quarters separate from the superior officers at the bridge tower, it was similar to an antechamber in emptiness and size, the only difference was the massive cell-like cut windows circling in a flat arch showing the blue-green and occasionally violet planet of Naboo. "Queen Amidala should pose no threat to him, but for some reason he doesn’t trust her now that she is not present on the Imperial Senate and is out of his reach, there’s something going on here," you pondered, taking your mask off and staring at it for a while. "It goes against the relatively peaceful route he has trekked on until now, but I don't believe we are here for another treaty."

"I was not aware of your interest in politics. This was what had you so scatterbrained you couldn't even focus on combat." Vader slowly approached the glass window closes to him and stood still, his eyes on the planet. He had his hands folded behind his back. His side profile was illuminated by the faint translucent lights of the space from where you were. "Why the sudden curiosity, have you received intel?"

"It's not like that. I‘ve just had more time than necessary to think."

"And the thing you chose to think about was the Emperor not trusting Queen Amidala?"

"I’m thinking about how a possible invasion would go. The Emperor looked for the perfect opening to do so, and now that he has it, he won't let go. It feels like the era of treaties is about to be over." After placing your mask on the table where Vader usually kept the tools he used to modify his limbs, a feeling of nakedness washed over you as you looked at the view it created, it was not the Supreme Inquisitor talking at the moment, but simply you. "But I do have a bad feeling about everything in general, I can't get it out of my mind."

"Is that what The Force tells you?"

Gloved fingers gliding on the smooth arch of the top of the inquisitor mask, you kept your gaze on the T-shaped lens. Your lashes were heavy on your eyes, the words were weighing down on your entire face so they couldn't escape you it seemed. As ironic as it was that you were covering your real troubles with half-truths, you had never been this honest about your opinions before, only ever obeying whatever Vader had asked you of. "I'm not sure. I can't distinguish my instincts from the will of The Force yet. I don't think I ever will. Precognition is beyond me, I am but a Mandalorian, physical use is the only thing I really am good at. Still, there are times in which even I can feel it physically in my head. I know we are only soldiers, I know not to concern myself but The Force is. . . weird these days. That's why I'm not dismissing these thoughts."

"Perhaps what you used to call instincts is The Force talking to you. You are still fighting the Dark Side, that's why it's constipating you like this. Let the power guide you. Don't be afraid of too much."

"I have dedicated myself to your ways for a reason, I know what I have to do. I'm just a slow learner, but I do learn. Even if I can't fulfill your expectations, I won't ever disappoint you, Lord Vader."

Tingles traveled down your spine in warm waves, Vader's stare was definitely on you. "I will look into this as well, you keep focusing on the present." Then, a soft sigh dissolved in the air, so unnoticeably gentle that it had your eyebrows pulled together in surprise. "Anything else you wish to inform me about? I still feel heavy conflict clouding your mind."

"I don't wish to bother you with insigni—"

"When I ask questions I expect them to be answered."

He had seen it. The certain worm clogging your brain. Something was pushing you to squish it back in the darkness so he would forget about it. Not knowing what it was made you try to cover it up, words you‘d kept to yourself all this time poured out like hot-flowing blood out of a raw wound. "The thing is, why would Queen Amidala make a predictable and unnecessary move such as this when she is aware of the emperor's intentions in the first place? It doesn’t make sense."

"What do you know about his intentions?" It came sharp and quick. When you let go of the mask grounding you and turned to him, Vader's stiffness and slight tenseness caught you off guard; just as he had never heard a single peep of doubt from you, you had never seen Vader defensively alarmed as well. "You're basing this all on a single assumption. According to that then, how would Queen Amidala be aware of this so-called everything?"

"I told you it was insignificant."

"No. Explain it."

Hurried steps brought you right at Vader's side, aestuous eyes of his followed your almost apologetic state. The stars were witnessing a rare occurrence that day, the ice-breathing iron dragon was reduced into a young man, simply because he allowed anxiety seep out the cracks of his persona of The Dark Lord Darth Vader. Yet, they were merely only talking. You were pulled to him like a piece of metal caught into a magnetic field, wanting to clear his face from shadows. What had him this tense was a mystery that piqued your worry as much as it did your curiosity. 

"I meant absolute control when I said intentions, it wasn't something mysterious at all." You said, fighting the instinct to comb his wavy locks away from his face when you noticed his arms twitch forward towards you in a split second, stilling quickly right after that. "Queen Amidala, well at least Naboo has been cooperative and obedient so far, it is the Emperor’s home planet. It's illogical for them to make a move, without even sending a report of protest first about the Stormtrooper bases." Your voice was calculative and calm so that Vader would remain composed as well. "To be honest, every bone in my body is screaming trap at me. But I don't know what they would gain from laying a trap for us — or the empire."

A blank look.

Then a weak smile so twisted and bitter that the hairs on the back of your neck and the baby hairs framing the shape of your face stood up.

"I do," Vader said, triumphantly. Catharsis was etched into his tremulous voice, his pupils were dilated. "Have spy droids decode their hologram satellites immediately. I especially want the transcriptions of ghost calls, doesn't matter if it's from the palace or not."

At a loss for words, you couldn't catch up to his thought process but you had your orders, Vader's word came first. "Whatever we're looking for -- what if they chose to transport it manually as a message rather than transmitting it?"   

"I hope they did." The smile on his face didn't reach his eyes, his tone was low and dangerous when he answered. "Then we get to use the easy way to restore the peace."

When you retired for the day, the shadows whispered all that you have been reduced to, and all you will ever be is eternal yearning chasing your tail, forever stuck in a circle, doomed to be your own destruction.

They swirled heavy and languid around where you laid folded into yourself, in your most vulnerable state —— closest to the ghost of the girl fron Clan Vizsla, the girl with tender flames that couldn't and wouldn't burn. They pooled in the hollow of your stomach, filled your womb with molten tar, and blotted your veins; until you became nothing but a vague shape in the dark.

The moderately average resting chamber in the giant Star Destroyer closed in on the you, only armored with a thin layer of sweat covering your heated skin. Darkness was a place you were your most comfortable in, but shadows drowning you were the servants of light —— the light that flowered from the warmest, the most cowardly of fires that was afraid to burn people.   

"Remember," the shadows murmured. The smell of beskar and ash was sticky on the wall of your nose, thickly dropping down to the lungs. Within the withering clouds of duskiness, two little marbles with the color of abysmal space stared back, the tiniest of shine reflecting like miniature novae. Black eyes like obsidian. "As no star is enough to light up the galaxy. As no star is enough to warm up its home. Remember who you are."

Supreme Inquisitor killed that treacherous girl every single night, but shadows were immortal nonetheless, you couldn't possibly reign victorious over them. The girl of Clan Vizsla, aware of that mostly overlooked knowledge, had always hidden her essence in the shadows; and now even her biggest nemesis was unable to snuff out the weak embers left of her. The ashes somehow managed to rekindle their spark.

The girl just refused to die and turned herself into invisible heavy shackles on your ankles.

Shadows caught up to you in oddest circumstances these days. Contrary to Imperial Officers and most of the Inquisitorius like the fallen Grand Inquisitor, respect out of obligation and orders did not sit well with you, you enjoyed proving yourself someone to be dreaded over and over again just to smell the satisfying presence of horror, yet sometimes you (momentarily) felt unaccomplished when people couldn't look you in the eye as they spoke.

The Mandalorian in you wanted to earn respect instead of forcing it out of somebody —— annoying, really, it was like an itch right in the middle of your back where you couldn't reach to scratch, and it never went away either. No matter what you did, you couldn't get rid of the leaden disappointment and dejection shooting up your spine at the sight of forehead-on-the-floor submission even if it lasted shorter than a blink.

The moment of humanity made you sick. You enjoyed being feared and bowed to, that meant you were stronger than them, that you were better, yet the tiny itch made it seem like you were some kind of noble character deep down when your aim, in the end, was establishing strength and demanding respect in exchange —— not honorably gaining it through charity work.

That's why you were feeling grumpy at yourself as you left First Brother behind in hurried steps after the report given to you in trembling fingers hid behind his waist in a grip, and a voice strained to control a slight shakiness. The Miralian was covered with a thin layer of sweat across his pink skin, the purple diamonds etched onto his nose area almost appeared a dark ultramarine as he stood with an imaginary walking stick shoved down his throat, he didn't move from his position until Supreme Inquisitor had completely disappeared from his sight.

He was your favorite Inquisitor to work with, mainly because he knew respect. You knew it was a Jedi habit, but you were in no place to complain about it, only focused on getting results and finally, your patience was rewarded —— not even the annoyance at your prolonged unstable emotions could get in the way of your enthusiasm. They were one step closer to ending this blockade and you were itching to return to your routine of hunting Jedi and getting rid of this mess of a state of mind. Things would soon return to the way they were. They had to.

With that in mind, you all but rushed to deliver the news to Vader, practically running to the safety of an end goal having formed in your mind. He was receiving some kind of report in the bridge part of the Star Destroyer, but immediately dismissed the two officers when he saw you approaching him with hurried steps. The T-shaped visor of her matte black helmet was reflecting light like flashes due to your speed.

Vader had the tendency to have conversations with you alone, even when you absolutely had to be in public he would maneuver to the most isolated place where they could speak privately, and his utter discontent at people coming at their way would immediately have effect in making them go the opposite way. If he was just done with having to deal with Imperial Officers and saw you as an escape, you did not know.

"It's done, Lord Vader," You reported with a datapad in your right gloved hand, the other was clutching the hilt of darksaber tucked away in your belt as you retreated to the giant windows looking directly at Naboo. Crowds would part at the sight of you together, as if leaving you to your solitude was a rule, so nobody was in the perimeter to hear the conversation. "Spy droids are on the job right now. The decryptor team is simultaneously working with incoming data. The droids can only do so much, so for the sake of both speed and efficiency, the only solution I had was this."

You handed him the datapad, his yellow eyes were dull as he scanned the incoming information. "Nothing looks particularly off as of now."

"I told them to look out for suspicious behavior as well. Could be a part of their cipher system."

"I would rather have direct contact with the senator, per protocol." Vader's hawk-like gaze turned almost condescendingly to the mostly purple planet as if he could spot the object of their conversation right away. The corners of his lips twitched upwards for a millisecond. "Compared to the queen, he is surprisingly easier to crack."

He peculiarly allowed himself to be human around her, occasional boyish grins and smirks found their way to his face often when you were near. It wasn't a first-time realization but very much a reassurance every time it occured. The thought, this time also as well, managed to ease your overheated mind and you allowed herself to relax a bit, removed your hand from darksaber, and clutched them on the back of your waist. "Which is why Queen Amidala insists on being the mediator."

A scoff came from him. "She knows even the person they chose has certain weaknesses."

A wave of bitter taste washed over your mouth. "We do have to wait for Emperor Palpatine's orders about entering their planetary space. . . to exploit those weaknesses."

"I don't need to be right in front of him to do that."

He was capable of doing unspeakable things to people deeming they were safe from him just because they were seperated by monitors and screens, there was nothing surprising about his ominous declaration. Yet, something akin to an irritating feeling peeling away from your skin and an itching weight being lifted off of your gut made you blink strongly. You had to swallow because inside of your mouth felt like you had just stuffed a handful of sand down your throat. Of course. This was it. This was why Inquisitorius had to be here. How could you have been so oblivious?

"How inconvenient," you said, fully turning to him sharply. An excitement that would put the one you felt when you got the report from First Brother to shame was pulsating in your temples and ears. "It would have been better to have the excuse to see him directly."

Vader's eyebrows twitched downwards slightly. He must've had noted the change in your demeanor. "Why?"

"Because I just figured out why we're here." Your hands jerked to point at Naboo. It was clear as day to you now. You were so buried in your own mind to see what was right in front of you! "To give The Emperor an excuse for the order. This is our mission."

Vader, contemplating your discovery, hummed before speaking. He didn't look baffled at all. "You're saying this is an investigation."

"Disguised as an embargo." You nodded. Even the voice warping planted in your helmet could hide your emotions. You were more than happy to push all of your turmoil this far on this reason alone. "I can't believe I figured it out so late.“

"You weren't supposed to figure anything out." Vader, opposed to you, was very discontent with your state and you had failed to notice it from how his eyes had narrowed before he spoke. "Our input in political matters is not needed. It isn't our place."

In this light, he almost looked like he was leering down at you and that made your heart jump to your throat. Maybe you shouldn't have expressed your mind so openly like this. You weren’t one to mix personal opinions with orders in the first place. This... The chaos you were in as of late had made you slip up. You had had done your best to remain as a blank slate while putting only your lord's agenda and wishes before anything, and it truly was the only thing you cared about — that you should have cared about.

You had to pull yourself together.

"I apologize," you said, now more focused and professional to show you didn't mean any disobedience by your words. "Of course I will follow only orders, Lord Vader. I haven't forgotten my place."

That earned you an unexpected tut. "That's not——" He shut his mouth with an audible click coming from how hard his teeth had snapped together. Your eyebrows, not visible from your helmet, shot upwards at Vader's incomplete sentence. The Dark Lord of the Sith would have never held his tongue back in any occasion and he never entertained idle chit-chat, yet. . . He had briefly lost control there. He did manage to school his tone back into place, but you were already too shocked. "Just remember we will only do what is necessary. The Emperor always has a higher purpose we're not meant to know."

You had forgotten you were surrounded by the crew of the bridge, the mention of The Emperor brought back some clarity to you, as the rehearsed words of self-evaluation slipped past your lips. You had autopiloted into a submissive soldier stance. "I see now that lack of clearance has got the best of me. I meddled in matters simply not my business at all."

You didn't dare to look up at him, too immersed in trying not to spark his anger. Direct defiance was never your intention and deep down, you were already ruthlessly scolding yourself for it. You should have never opened your mouth. That's right. You were never supposed to open your mouth ever. You would only be good to go when you listened and followed orders. Opinions and thoughts were not welcome. Not that you had problems with them in the first place, but you did have to teach yourself again.

You hadn't noticed Vader's silence and his golden gaze scanning you up and down as if you were a book to read, it only became apparent to you when he started speaking again, his voice was heavy and gravelly. "This kind of thing will put a target sign on your head. You must stay out of The Emperor's sight, I will handle everything. All you have to do is follow orders."

This was the perfect chance to both change the subject and deliver the other updates you got from earlier, and you took it. He would be displeased because of the delay, but you couldn't skip on your duty either, it was with heavy heart that you gave him the news. "Speaking of orders, First Brother reported to me before our meeting. The holo-faker will be dealt with shortly. They are working on locating her."

"You mean to say she’s not dead yet?" As expected, sourness had immediately settled on his face.

"Unfortunately."

"Shortly doesn't cut it. You and I both know these adverbs only exist to buy more time." An exasperated huff, like burning steam on your skin, cut his sentence. His artificial hand's fingers had started flexing and you knew from this that his first instinct in handling this was violence - and rightfully so. If it was up to you without any interventions, the holo-faker would have been dead for the seventh time now. "Who is this holo-faker, why is it taking so long? We have more pressing matters at hand."

Your chest swelled up with the acidic breath she took in for that answer. "Her name is Bo-Katan Kryze——"

"What?" His blaster shot of an interruption was almost high-pitched and even further, your heart rate picked up because of how Vader's normally controlled Force presence had crackled like a sudden whip lash against the air. "Repeat that name."

The way he said that was stone cold and had sunk on your chest as dead weight.

"Bo-Katan Kryze." It was too hard to keep your voice in a flat tone, so it appeared very tense in return. He can misunderstand, you thought to yourself, and fumbling words pushed through your filter without warning. A loss of control on your part, no matter the form it took. "A Mandalorian like me, I know. However, my judgment is not affected. I will have her eliminated."

"We will speak no more of this here. Come."

Everything happened in a flash. His unwarranted, lightning anger blended in with their literal teleportation to the official meeting chambers reserved for the inquisitor team aboard the ship. It was like you had been wounded, but the adrenaline and shock holding your body together was holding the pain back.

You had killed fellow Mandalorian kin before. You did it every time one cane to take darksaber away from you for honor. Vader knew you didn't hold any affection or lingering attachment to your roots. Your only relief would be accepting you were uninformed, or simply not smart enough to understand what had him angered like a dragon preparing to wreak havoc over his gold hoard having been barely disturbed by an outsider.

After the sliding metal door closed behind them and trapped you in a dimly steel, ever-shrinking room due to his sizzling Force presence, with only a giant holotable to display maps in the middle, his heaving back slowly regained back a stable breathing rhythm, and he turned to you much more composed, the powerwalk they had here probably having taken some of his bottled up agitation. "Did you have an audience with her?" he said, the sentence more of a domineering demand than a question. There was a distant fire in his eyes.

You did your best to remain calm to not provoke him in any way, and obeyed. "Yes, it was required."

"Did you speak with her directly?"

"Yes, since I had the recordings of the Jedi had to deliver them personally." One of your canines caught the inside corner of your mouth. "Is something wrong——"

He ignored your remark. "Has she said anything to you?"

Have I failed? How have I failed? Why am I being interrogated right now? "Apart from business, no."

"That can’t be it. Are you lying to me?"

That sentence was straight up a punch to your ribcage, you were breathless as you answered that question. "No."

But that did not satisfy him. He was a predator pacing left and right upon hearing it. The lampdisks were full on and the meeting room eerily bright, but his darkening presence was casting a shadow over everything. "Out of all the beings in the galaxy, how did she end up being——" He was mumbling to himself in a mildly manic state, and when he suddenly shouted, the already panicking you almost jumped out of your skin. "Damn it!"

Vader's entire self-control was gone like the wind, a catastrophic hurricane in the Force is what he was. Rumbling and roaring with no restraint, no restraint. It made your hands tremble uncontrollably and sucked the strength from your core entirely. And all it took for the leash to snap was not The Emperor, not the missions, not the imperial officers and not the incompetent inquisitors, but a single name of an insignificant Mandalorian holo-faker.

You had to fix this somehow. You had to do something. You didn't understand your mistake but you had to put enough effort to get back on your feet. "Lord Vader, I don't follow——"

"Don't call me that!" You had never heard him yell before. Always the silent and obscure, actions-over-words commander that he was, Lord Vader did never need to raise his voice to get what he wanted, he simply didn't bother with that. Yet that was a broken shout at the top of his lungs; a shattered clap of thunder, yet it was a piercing shriek of a wounded animal enough to make your ears go numb for few seconds. Bleeding. A cascade of emotions were bleeding out of him.

Silence fell between you like the hammer of a giant.

Your insides churned and twisted and crushed until all you could feel was just a mash of mixed goop flesh filling you like cotton and only a void in the middle of your skull, as if you had jumped out of hyperdrive with a damaged deceleration equalizer.

A shiver shook your shoulders.

There was a man in front of you, not Lord Vader, and certainly not a Lord of the Sith. An upset, disturbed and disordered hot mess of a young man, with eyes  the color of cold dark blue before the sun appears in the horizon, swimming in the agony of an entire sunken star, was despairing over his subordinate addressing him as the superior he was.

What did he want from you exactly? How did you end up in a conversation webbed with lines that should never be crossed?

"Call all the inquisitors involved in the operation and leave us."

"As you wish." You kept your voice carefully blank and monotone, but the emotions were as scattered as a star cluster. Despite that, as Supreme Inquisitor, your instincts knew the need for professionalism to be restored back, but it was actually cowardice that made you lean entirely on respect to gain much needed stable ground. "Do you want me to send out a scouting team to find out if she has reached Mandalore? They could look for a way to cheat the treaty."

"No. You're off the holo-faker case."

It was a small command, a simple order, a rightful decision really, but that still felt like stun blasts exploding inside your brain that left it ringing and the room spinning around you. "Why? I can fix everything, I can go personally——"

"No." To your own ears, to your heart, the voice that came from his lips didn't sound like his own. It was deeper, darker, clipped and oiled, resonating from the depths of the Dark Side he tapped into whenever he was facing enemies and allies alike. It didn't sound like him at all, he didn't direct that tone —— that stance to you ever, and it smoked with fury. "You'll remain here with me."

You stood welded to the floor, motionless. You weren’t even truly aware of speaking. It was as if someone else were using your mouth. "I have met her face to face, I'll get it done faster, let me go to Mandalore——"

"I said no! That's an order!"

A hiccupping gasp rose out of you that the mask didn’t pick up.

And, now, finally, you recognized the voice that had came out of you in utter desperation.

It belonged to the shadows. It belonged to gentle melodies of the benevolent hearth. It belonged to the girl who was afraid of being cast away.

You could only stand there, sick at heart, stunned with helplessness, the fatigue in your guts turning heavier and heavier.

". . . Understood."

Lord Vader passed his flesh hand over his eyes and drew a long, heavy breath.  In a much lower, calmer, quieter tone, he said, "You won't get involved with her. Promise me." He looked thoroughly miserable, but you felt too numb, so numb that you were looking at the world behind iced glass. It stung even to stand here.

"I have received your orders.” Your lips, conditioned only to speak of duty, fulfilled their responsibility. "I'm calling the inquisitors immediately."

[red-doll-face]

I just found your blog and I LOVE IT.

If I might ask: What’s your saddest dbd headcanons (killers or survivors)

Call me crazy, but I must know! ❤️

Ohh this one was a good one but it hurt me so badddd, ahhh. I’m glad to share , I have some bad dbd brain rot lmaooo I didn’t do every character so I hope these are ok 🥺 these are a bit long too

Sad Dead by Daylight Hcs

Claudette Morel:

Claudette is one of the criers. Probably cries while getting mori’d and can't help the tears during the really bad matches. Her pain tolerance isn’t very high, hence the willingness to waste time healing herself if it means she can stop being in so much pain.

Meg Thomas:

Spends time alone thinking about her past life. Her mother is a subject that makes her really frustrated. People mentioning their moms makes her a little standoffish. Wishes she had a chance to say goodbye in some way.

Ace Visconti:

Ace doesn't have much family to even miss him. He wonders if they noticed he’s gone or hasn’t come back. Maybe they think he hit big bucks and left them behind. Ace is stuck really. Even if he were to go back, he’d be dead or working off his debt.

Feng Min:

Gets super mad when she loses, it makes her so angry that she doesn’t control the trials. She blames other people for her losses but actually is very critical of herself. Casts the blame on others so she doesn't have to face her own mistakes.

David King:

All of his perks are about putting his ass on the line for his teammates yet everyone seems to think he’s selfish and a dumb brute. David doesn't know what to do to be more approachable; genuinely wants to be seen as a friend.

Laurie Strode:

Laurie never got the chance to mourn her friends. She thought she won. Finding out she’ll never truly escape Michael or be able to forget him makes her so mad. When she gets Michael in trials she makes sure the glass in her pocket is extra jagged and serrated.

Jane Romero:

Jane only wanted recognition and acknowledgement. Everything she's worked so hard for feels like a waste for her now. She should have spent more time on herself or with her father. Jane feels like she has no purpose anymore besides running and screaming for the enjoyment of the entity.

Yui Kimura:

Yui can’t stand the Clown or the Stealth Killers. Reminds her of bad memories. When she loses against killers like ghostface, she is especially angry.Her fighting spirit can’t help her actually get back at them.

Zarina Kassir:

Spent so much time fighting inequality only to spend the rest of her life where the odds are never in favor of the survivors. Where the oppressed are destined to lose. Each one of the people is subjugated, both killer and survivor and there's nothing she can do to free them.

Cheryl Mason:

She's been through literal hell and back just to end up in a weird recurring nightmare. At least Silent Hill had an escape. She's killed a god and somehow someone her size with a boxcutter can kill her? Huh.

Élodie Rakoto:

Feels guilty over the loss of her parents and feels extremely disillusioned by this realm. It's so much more boring than she thought it would be. All of her searching and traveling was not worth this shithole.

Steve Harrington:

Steve, though 18, is very much still a kid. Steve is naive about certain things and his optimism gets chipped away at a lot. Wasn’t too enthusiastic at having to care or look after Dustin and his friends but misses having people to protect.

Jeff Johannson:

Someone who definitely ends up taking hooks for people and ends up dying. Has a reputation among the killers as a survivor who is easy to leverage during the endgame because he will try for that save.

Kate Denson:

Feels very lucky to even have her guitar. The other survivors didn't get to bring many things with them. Makes her feel a little bad when she Often feels too worn out and exhausted by the trials to play it.

Quentin Smith:

Unfortunately stuck in pseudo-hell with his abuser. Gets really anxious against Freddy. Leans on his fellow survivors. Will sometimes accidentally bring Freddy to others in an attempt to get Freddy the hell away for him.

Evan ‘The Trapper’ Macmillan:

Actually has tried on numerous occasions to remove the metal rods and shrapnel embedded in his skin. It hurts like hell and just when he thinks he’s got it, he loses grip. These attempts never work.

Philip ‘The Wraith’ Ojomo:

When he’s alone, Philip will try and talk to himself. His vocal cords are warped, his voice a scratchy growl and garbled gurgle. He remembers what he used to sound like but he tries talking less and less.

Max ‘The Hillbilly’ Thompson Jr.:

Besides being named after someone who locked him away for most of his life? Max has to rest a lot between trials. The constant movement puts strain on him and causes him dull pain. His back causes him a lot of grief. The Entity is barely merciful.

Michael ‘The Shape’ Myers:

Meant to be forgotten by everyone who ever knew of him and he knows it. Loomis, after deciding that Michael couldn't be ‘fixed’ just hoped that the system would swallow him. If it weren't for the entity, Michael knows he'd either be dead or caught and back with Loomis.

Bubba ‘The Cannibal’ Sawyer:

Used to be one of the nicer killers to go against and might have been sweet to certain survivors who deserved kindness. But the Entity punished him for it. Bubba isn't very nice anymore. Probably a little meaner to avoid being in trouble again.

Amanda ‘The Pig’ Young:

Another one down to give second chances, much like the second chance she saw in John Kramer. Doesn’t do this a lot however, therefore escaping the ire of the Entity. She’s spent a lifetime hurting others emotionally and physically. Now, she’ll spend an eternity.

Rin ‘The Spirit’ Yamaoka:

The pain and anguish is so heavy but time is no cure in a place where time is nonexistent. No happiness to replace her rage. Especially in a place where her anger is a weapon for a greater power. Also has tried to pull the glass out of her skin and press her limbs back together. Can’t stand to see herself in the mirror.

Adiris ‘The Plague’:

Her body is always on the precipice of falling apart. Her skin rots; her flesh aches and feels like it will tear away at any moment. She is immortalized yet so close to death. Her body hurts so much but she has a purpose to serve. (makes me even sadder bc jannneeeee my mainnnnn😔)

Kazan ‘The Oni’ Yamaoka:

Misses his son. Never got to see him grow up, considering he;s already met his descendant. Proud from a distance because that's all he can be. The beginning of something so angry that it passes down his family line.

Caleb ‘The Deathslinger’ Quinn

During his life, was under the control of people who made him work for their gain who used him. The Entity emphasizes the killers as a position of power but Caleb does much of the same here. Works and works. Never for himself.

Pyramid Head ‘The Executioner’:

His existence has always included pain. He’s not quite sure what it’s like without it. He’s made several efforts to take the pyramid off. It pulls painfully at his neck. Makes awful groaning noises and roars.

Ji-Woon ‘The Trickster’ Hak:

Has never been much more than entertainment for other people since he was a child. Never expected to be much more. To the point that now, if he doesn't feel impressive in some way, he feels incomplete. The entity is his way to really indulge his ‘true artistry’.

Yun-Jin Lee:

A bit selfish when it comes to surviving. A few people around the campfire dont like her for that reason. Some of the meaner people will even leave her behind because they remember all of the times Yun-Jin might have done something similar.

Thanks for reading!!! I’m sorry I don’t post often but I have Shit ton of hw and I recently started a new project sooo ya know 💖💖💖

[neproxrezi]

Are you participating in the proposed dbd boycott to get them to do a game health update?

yeah, i wasn't sure at first caus "dont play the video game for a brief period" isn't going to work but "this company has put all its eggs in one basket and they are frankly quite neglectful of said basket, everyone stop buying anything ingame for 3 months" has me interested

more than 'fix the bugs' or anything else like that what i want to see out of the game is them being less god damn stingy with cosmetics (you should not have to pay $10 for ONE FUCKING COSMETIC) and addressing the grind. holy shit the grind in this game is so rough and it could be fixed fairly simply (i'm in favour of removing perk tiers, to cut a long post short)

hold on im gonna complain about dbd under a cut caus itll get long, i love this game so much but oh boy it has issues

it's been said a million times already but dbd's grind made more sense when there were like 4 or 5 characters per side, there are now over 20 and each new one introduces 3 perks to each side

I want to write about the grind in this game for a moment. There are 95 survivor perks in DBD. Every perk has three tiers. Some of them are great, and many are kind of pointless. Realistically, I'd bet you're only going to see about 15 of those perks in action in most of your games. However, if you unlock a perk to be taught to other survivors (which I tend to do even if I don't particularly want it, out of a mix of completionism and a 'may as well get it out of the way' kind of thing), you can't get rid of it. It's in your bloodwebs forever. 95 perks. 285 perk tiers. Let's talk about how long that takes to claim.

You buy a new character in the next chapter. You have every teachable perk unlocked. The new chapter really excited you, and you want to claim every perk on the new character (who I am going to name... Doug), so you saved a lot of bloodpoints in advance. In fact, you played for days and days and saved the cap, which is a million bloodpoints. You buy Doug, after much excited testing him out in the PTB. You spend all million points on Doug. Doug is now about level 35 to 40, out of 50. Hm. Well, time to keep playing. The bloodwebs kind of gave you a bunch of crap stuff on Doug, and you don't feel like running Power Struggle, Ace in the Hole, Babysitter and Breakdown, so you can't play Doug yet. You go play someone else.

Solo queuing as survivor is a mixed bag, and your games range from getting 10,000 bloodpoints (pretty rough game where everyone got wiped) to 27,000 (a great match, maybe with a bloodpoint offering). You save enough to get Doug to level 50. In the later levels, you start being able to get two perks a level instead of one. Let's say from level 1 to 50, you collect a total of 65 perks, because I don't remember exactly when it starts offering 2 per level. Okay, there are 220 perk levels left. Because of the game's propensity for giving you the same perk over and over to get you lots of perks at level 2 out of 3, of those 65 perk tiers you've probably got something like 20 to 25 actual perks. You're missing like, 70. Best case scenario, the ones you picked up include a lot of what you want. Most likely, you've got like half a good build and some gimmicky crap to slot in alongside it. Worst case scenario, which has happened to me plenty of times, you have like maybe one good perk and a pile of gimmicky crap. So. How long is it going to take you to get what you want?

There are 220 perk levels to go. After level 50, the webs are all the same size. It costs about 50,000 points to level up, and you get two perk levels per bloodweb. That's going to be 110 webs to get everything for Doug. Which is 5.5 million bloodpoints. Oh no. How many points were you earning per game again?

If you play with friends, you're probably going to do better. I find this to be true even if me and my friends are playing without voice comms or anything, because I just sort of know these people a bit better. I know my friend who mains Lisa Garland is a hook-diving bastard, so I don't need to go rescue anyone. Ace, god bless him, makes batshit altruistic plays, so I certainly don't need to go protect my teammates when he's out there doing things like this. I think I'm just going to sit on generators in the distance, think about our final gen spread, and try get us out of here. I'd say if I'm playing well, and accounting for offerings and WGLF stacks, with friends I average 30,000 a match and by myself I average 20,000. Playing killer I average more like 60,000, but playing killer is a bit stressful sometimes and I'm very indecisive about actually queuing up for it, so I probably actually get bp faster as survivor. I'm going to call the average per match across everything 25,000, because for every good game there are plenty where you underperform, or things just go drastically wrong. To earn 5.5 million points like that, you're going to have to play 220 matches. A game, including queue times and whatnot, can take ten to twenty minutes. That's... that's going to take a while. And that's ONE CHARACTER.

Now, on the survivor side you only really need to do this once. They're all just reskins of the same gameplay loop. On the killer side, you need to re-earn those perks for every new character you want to try out, because they're all different. Miiiiillions and millions of points. Hundreds of games. I have no problem with the game having a grind, but at this point it's absolute insanity.

In my opinion, removing perk tiers would cut the grind down to a reasonable level. There'd still be a grind, which I'm completely comfortable with existing, but it wouldn't be excruciatingly long, and you wouldn't have to spend as long dealing with bad perks.

HOWEVER, on top of that is the fact that they just. Holy shit the game updates slowly. I don't want to blame them for that in a way of like "these developers are incompetent and lazy", I really do love DBD to bits and I'm sure they do work very hard on it. That said, its update cycle is really slow. Reeaally slow. I wish they either had a bigger team, made balance updates faster (a handful of perk adjustments once every six weeks is... very very slow) or something to just try make the changes faster. Even when things do change it always feels so anxious and tentative, I wish they'd experiment more often. The time they disabled bloodlust to see what happened was really cool!

Yeah in short I just hope the grind gets addressed more than anything else, caus that's the part I actually think there's a relatively straightforward solution to. Also, I never got to play the older events where you could do shit like earn cosmetics, but they sounded way fucking cooler than the new ones. The halloween one last year was absolute shit, it's weird that their special events would get worse over time rather than better.

Buuut I agree with Scott Jund that the Resident Evil chapter was bad news for DBD's long term health because the one thing that would really give BHVR a kick up the ass is competition, and every time they land an amazing licensed chapter they become harder to compete with. They have an absolute monopoly on asymmetrical horror, and I honestly think the game would be in a better state right now if they had some competition >:[

[pxppinmolly-archived]

📂📂📂📂 !!

* Headcanons I Don’t Really Talk About IG // Accepting 

Making this as an excuse to talk dbd stuff teehee.

1.) I mentioned this before but yk what I am gonna talk about it again because I love this headcanon. The Entity gifted Molly a photograph of her with her brothers, their names are all written on the back with the date. HOWEVER ... Arackniss’s throat is scratched out, Angel’s lower arms are scratched out, and Molly’s eyes are scratched out. Molly keeps this photo in that little personal medkit of hers, and its not only just a treasured keepsake, but it’s something as a means for her to REMEMBER her brothers. Because their memory comes and goes, be it their face, or their name, or whatever else... The entity has SO MUCH material to torment Molly with and this is one of the big ones.

2.) Molly IS STILL VERY ITCHY ... in regards to drug use. I’ve been up in the air over how I wanna headcanon with this but I am deciding that the Entity WILL give Molly her fix with her drugs of choice for good behavior, but sometimes it’s very agonizing and she gets very sick and irritable until she manages to score some. If Bill is seen with cigarettes and fucking Talbot has whatever the FUCK THAT SHIT IS going on-- AKSDFJG!!

3.) Molly’s fear of the woods STILL VERY MUCH APPLIES HERE and when Molly first got into the fog she was HAVING A VERY BAD NO GOOD TIME. She has since gotten used to it, even if it just made her fears all confirmed and realized and amped up heavily, but her survival instinct and need of saving/protecting others really did stifle whatever fear and anxiety she had.

4.) I mentioned this I think once, but while Molly has NO MEMORY of her mother besides her EXISTING and some distant, foggy shadows of her being there, Molly remembers EVERYTHING about her father. All the bad and awful things about him. And she holds an intense resentment for him. It’s the only clear memories she has that remain unaltered, so she stews on them the most

[scrapbook-imagines]

DBD Reunion with S/O

Throughout its existence, the Entity has spectated the suffering of others with sadistic delight. It rarely grew bored of the constant loop of trials between survivors and killers. If It did, It would always add another pair in the mix — or in other cases, just one. The Entity was very familiar with how involving a loved one could create tremendous drama; it was always refreshing to see the killer torn between love and duty—the power imbalance that they previously enjoyed could make them so predictable at times, which does become stale eventually. So, while the Entity could relate in their shared interest of inflicting pain unto others, the killers needed to be reminded that they were also pawns in Its game.

The Huntress (Anna)

Anna’s mother was a very resourceful woman. The wealth gap between the common people and the nobles was becoming ever more drastic and at this rate the only way to avoid poverty was to isolate herself and her child from it all.

However, as Anna was growing up, wearily playing with the carved wooden animals—moving them about in the same way she had the day before— Anna’s mother knew that she was yearning for something that she could not provide for her.

The village Anna’s mother grew up in was not far; in those rare moments of nostalgia she would venture into the town, trading furs for the few vegetables that grew in the icy terrain.

This time, Anna’s mother decided to bring her along. Her mother knew the joy of friendship and now that her friends also had children, she thought it best to introduce Anna to you.

You were the only one closest in age and the first time Anna saw you, you were practicing on the barre

Ballet was such a foreign concept to the young girl; her mother had drilled in no other knowledge of the world besides how to survive. So seeing your leg bend in such a graceful manner— it fascinated her. You reminded her of a doe: lithe and innocent.

“What are you doing?” She asked you, her accent similar to yours, though one peculiarity indicated that she wasn’t from this humble village.

“Practicing.”

“What?”

Did she seriously not know what ballet was? Even the most miserable of peasants knew what it was—not that your family was particularly rich, but your talent was observed from an early age and meant you paid less for your education than others.

“Ballet. It’s a dance. I practice because I want to be one of the best and dance for the Tsar himself.”

You could tell by the awed expression on her face that she would have been content simply watching you but her curiosity and the strangeness of her demeanor made you want to know more about her

“Would you like to dance with me?”

Anna knew nothing of shame, so she eagerly took you up on your offer; ready to learn more about this elusive art form

To say Anna was clumsy would be an understatement. Well, you though, it’s not so much clumsiness as it is brusqueness.

Anna saw her reflection in the only mirror that was long enough for your dancing purposes— and she wasn’t a fan. “I’m no good.”

“It took me lots of practice to be this level, so don’t be mad you can’t move like me yet.”

Despite your words of encouragement, Anna didn’t much like dancing. She had two left feet--poor thing--and she could recognize that her dancing did not compare to yours at all. That being said, whenever the young girl was brought about she would always ask you to dance.

She could watch you for hours but even you would get bored and ask to play something else instead.

Then Anna and her mother didn’t come around anymore.

You wouldn’t know that years later she actually did, but you were already further into your education, which meant you no longer lived in that little town anymore.

You did achieve your goal and danced in one of the most opulent opera houses that Russia could offer; your audience consisted of many noblemen and even the Tsar himself a few times.

Your friend Anna became a distant memory as you were showered with bouquets of flowers, applause, and much praise.

The Great War brought much change to your success; work slowed to a near standstill as resources were now being funneled into the army, leaving luxuries like theater to cease for the moment.

Whether it was patriotism or desperation for getting involved in the war-- you do not remember. However, you do remember losing your squad members in the forest. The fog developed quickly, growing so thick that you needed to feel around to make sure you wouldn’t--

You tripped, falling face first into wet dirt.

You instinctively looked back to see what it was you tripped on, only to feel your stomach drop. It was one of your squad members! You crawled over quickly to inspect them, calling out for the rest of your unit to wait up because someone was hurt.

Your pleas softened into silence when your eyes fell on your comrade’s face, and the deep gash that split his head open and revealed the fleshy insides.

A soft yelp escaped you, and you quickly clasp your hands over your mouth to quiet yourself. His wounds were fresh, that much was obvious. So, even in your panicked state you could tell that the assailant could not have gotten far.

The quiet of the forest was no longer something you could dismiss; the somber atmosphere was now tainted by death and your mind wondered if your other squad members met a similar fate.

Attempting to gather yourself, you quietly yet cautiously continued onward. A soft humming grew louder as you went deeper into the forest. It sounded vaguely familiar, so you tried to approach with caution but her hearing was astute. You could barely make out her figure: a very tall, well-built woman with .. rabbit ears? She lifted her arm and your adrenaline kicked in as you ducked out the way of some sort of projectile and ran away.

__________

When you both entered the realm of the Entity, both of you were clumsy in understanding the rules of the game. This meant that you were able to just barely survive the trial and that neither of you got a good look at one another.

After becoming more prepared, though, there was a noticeable change in the killer you’d come to know as the Huntress. When she’d run out of hatchets trying to down you, she was, of course, extremely livid. She is one of the most competitive killers in the game and her immaturity could almost be heard whenever you drop a pallet on her. So, as she lunged to swing on you, she abruptly paused in the middle of it-- she practically almost tripped on her own feet trying to stop herself!

You didn’t bother to try to figure out what was wrong, so you ran away and hid in a locker-- you were new, how could you have known that you left scratch marks behind? She followed, her movements slow to not alarm you. Just as it seemed she was about to leave the room, she jerked her body to the direction of the locker and opened it.

You let out a startled cry, her hatchet sinking into the wood right next to you, as she grabbed you by the throat. She didn’t pick you up just yet though. She kept you in place, examining you and manipulating you to catch better glimpses of you.

The way you moved and your appearance were all too familiar to the Russian woman. Words were something she no longer had practice in yet with a quiet and scratchy voice she managed to speak your name.

You stared at the woman in the mask, trying to search for anything that would help you indicate who she was and how she knew you. The mask hid her features well and seeing as you hadn’t seen Anna in years so nothing about this was ringing any bells.

Did you dance for the Tsar, she asked slowly in your native tongue.

That’s when the realization hit you and a mischievous little smirk appeared on the Huntress’ face

She pulled you out of the locker and onto a hook.

Like Evan, Anna is unlikely to ignore the rules of the game the Entity has set up. She is very bloodthirsty and you dodging all of her hatchets only serves to further her competitiveness. That being said, she does offer some mercy. For example, she hardly ever kills you (mostly because she can’t catch up but if you ask her it’s because she likes you) and if she notices that you’re left too long on a hook and you’re going to enter second phase or die, she chases another survivor towards your direction and then backs off, allowing them to get you off hook. Unless they’re an absolute dick-- in which case, guess who’s getting the mori?

You aren’t too nice to her either, sometimes. Those hooks are painful and you take on a similar attitude of competitiveness, thinking of this as a childhood game despite its macabre nature. You will always teabag and point at Anna if you are about to leave through the hatch, jumping just as she throws her hatchet right at your head.

Be prepared to be kidnapped from the bonfire a lot by this lumberjill.

You’re the only one who knows what lullaby she’s singing, as your parents sang it to you too, and every once in a while you will sing it for Anna. This is when you see her at her softest.

[the-esempee-merchant]

So I was playing DBD as you do but I had my headphones off so I couldn't hear the game music because i was on a discord call with my brothers while we were playing a custom match and in this particular match(our last one for the night) My Younger brother was playing killer with me and my Older brother playing survivor. So My little brother plays a killer and at this point in the game has hooked me and my older brother long enough that our characters went into struggle state(where you have to struggle against giant spidery legs coming down to impale you and sacrifice you to the entity) now because of what was happening that round I was already feeling genuine fear because of a video game. Now because I don't have my headphones on and thus can't hear the game, I didn't notice that my younger brother was coming closer, my older brother however did so the interaction went somethiing like this.

OB(older brother): Run

Me, confused: Where

OB: Run

Me, still confused: Where?

And then my little brother's Killer comes and attacks my character, sending me into the dying state(where the character just lays on the ground struggling to get up) and me not knowing he was there started crying as a fear response because he came out of nowhere in my POV.

Where am I going with this?

Well, I am now making it so that in extreme cases of fear Tommy and/or Punz will start crying as a fear response because I want to project now.

Also I just had an entire rant about humans and how broken they are to no one and was crying the whole time.

Also, Also, I am terrified of the implications that I will forget my memories if reincarnation exists because I want to remember things and People, and I can't do that if the universe steals my memories.

... I could project that onto Sapnap

-Shark

[ziracona]

I know you mentioned that Bill wasn't included in ILM because you didn't know much about his personality. Out of curiosity though, if you had included him in the fic, how would you have integrated his history of being in the middle of a zombie apocalypse that couldn't have happened for the other characters? Or like, what approach would you have gone with?

Oh this is kind of a tough one! I don’t know Bill well, because I haven’t played Left 4 Dead, but that actually wasn’t why he isn’t in the fic. I stopped including survivors after Jane Romero, because DbD updates so much that I hit a point it was either add more characters but know you won’t have time to develop them and give them the character arcs they deserve because you’re nearing the end, or stop adding people, and it’s always better to whole-ass less then half-ass more—especially with characters that are awesome and really deserve some due diligence. While Bill is actually one of the earliest survivors released for DbD (he was...siiixth or something? Like right after Ace? Or Nea?), that’s only for PC. On PS4 and Xbox, he wasn’t added until much later, and I play DbD on PS4. So, for me as a player, Bill wasn’t actually released until after Ash was. When I started writing, I was kind of vaguely aware he existed on PC? But I had 0 personal experience with him, and so I went with my own/console experience when it came to writing.

As for what I’d have done, that’s a dang good question, and I’m not entirely sure— I’d definitely have thought about it longer if I had included him, but I’ll give you what I think I would have done? Obviously, Bill’s not from the world the rest of the survivors are. While almost any of the stories can coexist with minimal changes (NOES 2010, Halloween, Stranger Things, even Ash are more or less fairly easily compatible), zombie apocalypse—couple things I know they’re bound to notice, ya know? Still, I stand by multiverse being both unnecessary and not the best decision for the story I want to tell, so what I think I’d have done is this: (under the cut bc it’s gonna be long af--get ready for some quantum theory lol)

Okay, so the Entity canonically can operate outside of natural time. Meaning it can take survivors from earlier or later, and isn’t on the same space-time fixed relationship the world is. Now, time travel is tricky. Or anything with a complex portrayal of time. But there are three basic setups for time travel potential that actually make sense. They are as follows:

Anything that will happen, has happened (or the Artemis Fowl timetheory). This one is pretty straightforward. Sure, you can travel through time, but the universe you live in right now where you are choosing to go back is the result of the past you caused. The change you’re causing is past-tense already, and the only real agency you have is in causing the circumstances leading up to where you already are. This still allows for some fancy manuvering (for example: want to save a friend’s life? No problem. You can’t remove the motivation to go back, so you in the past still have to believe they die, but so long as you didn’t like, hold their severed head—if it’s a situation like say, you saw them blow up, you can save that person—you just have to make sure your past self still sees them “die” in the explosion and thus chooses, as you did/are, to go back.) This is my personal least favorite theory of space-time, but it’s a solid one.

The second is the The Future is not Set (or the Back to the Future timetheory). This one says time is flexible. You can go back and kill your father before you’re born, and the future will change. How ripple effects happen are varried—for example in strict timeline variations of this theory such as those in Frequency or Back to the Future, if you cause yourself not to be born, time will catch up with you, and while the impact you left on the world remains, you, as you no longer are born, will vanish from existence as the time stream corrects itself. However, more lenient time streams such as the versions in Continuum or Futurama exist as well, where even if your effects on the world prevent you from being born, the version of you currently alive continues to exist as an anomaly. This is by far, in my opinion, the most enjoyable solid timetheory.

And last (unless you count Time Travel is Impossible as a solid theory which I guess technically you can??), theory three (or the Doctor Who timetheory). This theory portrays time as possible to change and allowing for alternatives to be taken, but not in all places and ways. It presents very hard limits on what can change, and offers a much more inflexible time continuum than theory 2, as well as much higher consequences for causing alterations. Rather than direct cause-effect consequences, like vanishing because you caused yourself not to be born, usually the result of tampering and causing a change of large size is that you will create time paradoxes, which the time stream itself desperately will try to destroy/fix, usually horribly and with massive and brutal force. Things like Life is Strange fall into this theory as well, with Dr. Who being on the lenient end of this spectrum and LIS the strict. It offers the technicality of a changeable future, but none of the true and almost wild freedom offered by variations of theory 2. Basically, any large scale or personal change you cause will rip holes in the universe, and either you will give in to fate and re-allow the loved one you saved to die, or you push on through and accept massive time-space damage and casualties for the choice. I’ve got mixed feelings on this one myself, as I’ve seen it handled super well and made a thing that can be fun, but it also is the theory that pisses me off the most when written poorly haha.

Anyway, massive time theory talk over, in Dead by Daylight, the Entity can traverse time canonically. In ILM, the survivors only talk briefly, after meeting Jane, about theories for how that works, but here is what I would say if ILM had included Bill. To preface, there are two timelines that each follow the same set of basic rules, but have a little freedom in how they effect each other (not so much in how they effect themselves): the Survivor’s world/reality timeline, and the Entity’s pocket dimension timeline. Neither timeline can contradict itself and create paradoxes within its own space. So. Bill is from the same universe as anyone else. At one point, the early 2000s followed the narrative of Left 4 Dead, and the Entity grabbed Bill where & when he “dies” in canon. Only, some time after grabbing Bill, the Entity took another person which (completely unintentionally on the Entity’s part) triggered a massive Buttery Effect on the world, and greatly altered reality, causing not only the Left 4 Dead apocalypse to no longer occur, but causing Bill himself to never be born. Bill however was already outside of the world and in the Entity’s pocket dimension at the time, and thus was not there to be “erased” and exists as an anomaly. While he is paradoxical in his own world, he does not at all contradict the Entity’s established timeline—he adheres to it. While the memory of survivors is effected and updated by changes made in reality by the Entity, because there is no version of “Bill” in the world anymore, he did not have his memories altered (there was no “Bill” for the timestream to update at all, as he is entirely an anomaly now, so it would have no reason to try). The world they exist in has a time continuum that operates off a variation somewhere between theory 3 and theory 2 (the future is not set, but also there are fix points—however, these almost exclusively exist in regard to one’s own past. The big rule is that personally making the act of altering your own past intentionally by nature also alters your motivations for acting in the first place, and thus negates the possibility of you doing so. While you can change other people’s pasts, or accidentally effect your own, you physically cannot change your own intentionally, because you’d create either a paradox or a time loop, and it would rip you apart).

Dwight is more or less correct when he hypothesizes that they might have all remembered a world with Jane Romero still in it until an hour ago. However, all of ILM itself is that version of time/reality (ie the “last” or “final” version, as it were/the version that came into being when Jane was taken). Her loss butterfly affect updated people, and so they remember her being missing. While the Entity could hypothetically someday accidentally do things that make it so survivors aren’t born in the external reality, it cannot do so intentionally or accidentally-on-purpose, because it is bound by the rules of its own personal history/timeline, and it can neither intentionally nor accidentally do a damn thing to prevent what has transpired inside itself from happening. Similarly, since the survivors are established as existing inside it, even if they were erased at birth, they would still exit it intact in November of 2019 with all their memories. The Entity thus has no real way to hurt them even in revenge, unless it is willing to risk taking them again from a later point in time. Most small decisions do not have buttery effects that are very large at all, and in general time attempts to smooth out with the least possible changes. What happened to Bill was a one in a billion fortunate/unfortunate chance thing, and was such an unlikely thing to happen in the first place, the chances of a thing like it happening again are astronomically small, and almost completely certainly would not to occur. In some ways it would be nice for him though, because he could escape back to a peaceful reality where many people he lost are still happy & living. While they don’t remember him, people would still have the echos of their past inside them (feelings of deja vu, memories in dreams, attachment and familiarity with people you never “met”) and he could reconnect with them if he wanted and live happily with old Left 4 Dead crew and his new survivor family. : )

[gatonip]

This Bomb had a hell of a start

(Spoilers for Steven’s Dream)

Headcanons List

The First 25 Analysis Posts

The Answer [TA]

Steven’s Birthday [SB]

It Could’ve Been Great [ICBG]

Message Received [MR]

Log Date 7152 [Log Ep]

Super Watermelon Island [SWI]/Gem Drill [GM]

Drop Beat Dad [DBD]

Mr. Greg [MG]

The New Lars [TNL]

Beach City Drift [BCD]

Beta/Earthlings/Back To The Moon/Bubbled [The Beta Quartet Blurbs]

Gem Harvest [GMH]

Three Gems and a Baby [3GB]

Steven’s Dream [SD] (you are here)

Gem Heist [GH]

Originally written 1/3/17

God damn was this wild

Saving A Piece Of Her Legacy: Blue Diamond

I don’t think anyone was expecting an appearance from Blue Diamond, certainly not this soon in the Bomb if she were to appear. But my god did she appear, and my god is she gorgeous

Shout out to those killer diamond-shaped pupils

The most startling information we learn from BD’s musing is her connection with Pink Diamond, however brief of an idea we got from it. BD is openly weeping over what we’ve now been told is PD’s grave, and Greg questions if the two were close. Her response: ‘Very’. Even Blue Pearl, obediently bowing to her Diamond, looks up a bit at the question. You can choose to interpret that as her also wondering the answer, or thinking more along the lines of ‘bitch are you seriously asking if my Diamond was close with Pink Diamond’

‘They were the cutest couple in the galaxy humans are so dense’

She’s both surprised and touched that Greg, a human, is able to relate to how she feels. Remember that gems in general see themselves as a superior being; humans are just another species out in the galaxy whose home planet they conquered. They occupy, decimate, and discard planets on the daily. It’s unlikely they take much time to consider the planets’ inhabitants on their level in any capacity. Rose didn’t. It took Greg for her to realize their significance as something more than a plaything. And by the way BD reacts to Greg understanding the feeling of losing someone precious, she doesn’t consider it often, either

Clearly the Diamonds were all aware of the plan to destroy the planet, in Yellow Diamond’s case even looking forward to it. But BD is hesitant. She expresses regret, that perhaps humanity doesn’t deserve such a fate. Though we aren’t aware yet of her role in the war. Up until now it was safe to say she was on Homeworld’s side physically, but this episode has cast doubt on what her true feelings were on the matter. Maybe she was always in PD’s corner in her heart, and simply couldn’t muster up the courage to abandon the security of Homeworld as well. Maybe she didn’t believe the Crystal Gems would win the war, and didn’t want to be on the losing side of things. Maybe the war would have ended much more quickly if the CGs had a Diamond on their side. So many maybes

The Gems and Hesitance

Once again the gems learn too late that promising to be open and honest with Steven but not following through has extreme consequences. I understand that they’re only trying to protect him, I really do. The revelation that his mother murdered someone is a lot to process at any age, much less at 14. Rose was not perfect, no matter how they speak about her, no matter what picture Greg paints for him. She did what she needed to in order to preserve the planet, her life, and the lives of her friends. And they didn’t want Steven to have to deal with the pain of knowing that, to carry that burden the way they do

But on the flip side of this, Steven is absolutely right when he says he has a right to know these things. It’s all or nothing. They cannot build up her memory as a flawless being without accompanying it with the very real mistakes she made and the rash actions she took. I’m not saying they should have dropped the ‘your mom killed a chick’ bombshell on an 8 year old; I’m saying they should have humanized Rose to Steven. He feels like she sits on a towering pillar, unmovable, unflappable, a legacy he can never hope to reach let alone surpass. And this has done horrible things to his confidence and his perspective of her, going so far as to admit that he feels like a bad replacement for his mom in the gems’ lives, and that he has complicated feelings about her in general

And then recent events began chipping away at Rose’s pedestal. The illusion of perfection that Steven (and the audience) had seen her as is being destroyed, starting around WNTT and progressing up to the revelation of her shattering PD. And Steven hasn’t been able to cope. The gems, his trusted guardians, are now up for questioning again. Rose has become the ultimate culmination of his butterflies (from Mindful Education). Her pillar is crashing down. She will cease to be the definition of perfection, of goodness that Steven built her up to be, and when your definition of everything good is proven to be false, what can you turn to? Humanity is flawed, he’s learned this firsthand. Gems are flawed as well. The Diamonds are far from perfect. Steven cannot cope

This isn’t to say he won’t come to terms with this. But what would truly help is the gems being honest as they promised they would, telling him what he wants to know (in a careful, controlled way) rather than keeping everything a secret and risking him learning things in their rawest form, no buffer. Because time and time again, that’s how he’s learned things. Amethyst’s origins. Garnet being a fusion. Pearl’s position in Homeworld society. Rose killing PD. Learning these types of things the way he has is scarring him. He learns where Amethyst came from, and he immediately has to watch Pearl and Amethyst fight. He learns that Garnet is a fusion through her being forcefully broken apart. He learns the purpose of pearls on Homeworld from Peridot treating Pearl like dirt. He learns Rose shattered PD from a ruby who later proceeds to nearly kill him. If he had learned these things in a calmer manner, through a family sit down with tea and hugs, he would have been better off. Certain things would still be hard to handle, but he would know that the gems were here to support him, that they love and care for him enough to intrust him with such information

And they do, my god do they love and care for him. They love him enough to keep certain things a secret until a special occasion (Garnet’s plans to tell him about her being a fusion on his birthday). They care for him enough to keep the painful things about their past a secret, because they don’t want to burden him. Pearl and Amethyst don’t want him to know about their pasts because they fear it will mar his view of them. They don’t want Rose to seem like anything beyond perfect so her memory is preserved for him. They do what they do out of love, not malice. I discussed this whole thing very briefly back here so I consider all of the above some further context on that, coupled with another several handfuls of episodes and plot under my belt

(Rereading that made me realize that the gems still have a lot of progress to make on this front)

Misc Bits

Garnet fearing being seen by BD is a startling reminder that Homeworld is still not aware that the Crystal Gems are around. Peridot never sold them out to YD. Jasper hasn’t been in communication with Homeworld since her arrival. Their existence is still quiet and a secret. But it looks like that’s not going to last for much longer

Pearl’s continued negative reaction at PD’s death being mentioned is extremely concerning. She keeps curling up. Her hands cover her mouth and she shakes. Garnet looks to her in concern during Back To The Moon, and outright states this episode that the topic upsets her. I’m fully convinced Pearl was witness to PD’s death and has some PTSD from it; it’ll be interesting to see how she played into that event, whether as strictly a bystander, or an active participant

The fuckin color choices in this show are phenomenal, I go on and on about this all the time like in WNTT and MG because I just adore the way the show handles color but let me bring it up again. The contrast between the pink and the green in this entire scene and Steven’s ‘dream’ is so pleasant to look at, add in the gentle gray and pinks of the mountain and the pale blues and whites of the sky and my god do the art directors know what they’re doing

Wowie

And man this is only episode 1 of 5 in this Bomb >:0 I’m so worried and excited to see what comes next

[red-doll-face]

Do you have any Quentin headcanons that aren't sad? 🥺👉👈 He deserves happiness.

Aw, Quentin 🥺 I see them in dbd and they are to be PROTECTED !!!! Yesterday I put my ass on the line for a Quentin bc they deserved it !!!!

Quentin Smith hcs

Quentin is straight vibin’. He never starts shit with other survivors and he is just zoning out and staring off. Some people think he’s vapid but he honestly is just thinking. There are times when he doesn't think because thinking is hard sometimes.

He mostly hangs out with the survivors that are closer to his age. Like Laurie who he bonds well with, Cheryl also joining their little band. Steve and Nancy are also people he can talk to a little easier. He likes to talk to them about music and other strange little things he finds weird about their version of the world.

There are a few of the older survivors he gets along with but he's got a bit of social anxiety and feels like he's gonna say something wrong. Ace, however, gives him at least something like an uncle figure to look to as he does to most others.

Quentin responds well to the familiarity that Ace treats him with despite the limited world the fog offers. Tapp is also someone who can provide a supportive pat on the back, surprisingly very understanding despite the tough cop aura he puts out.

Quentin hums songs he remembers the lyrics to under his breath, especially when he’s bored. He stops when it's quiet because he'd rather die than have someone bring it up.

He likes to busy his hands with small tasks so when Claudette teaches him how to build the offerings, he likes to fill the pouches and tie little strings around them. He keeps the prayer beads that go around the maps to count when he's bored and there's no one to talk to.

Though heavily exhausted and constantly feeling burdened by existing on the hellish plane of reality that is the fog, he finds happiness in the small things, like a warm hug, the sunset in Glenvale, or even hanging upside down from the metal jungle gym in Haddonfield.

Quentin is just a little marshmallow 😭😳 also sorry for the absence again I started my stinky winter class 😔 I hope u like them ! 💖