#i fuckin hated that mannequin

[tinypurpleparrot]

So if y'all know anything about Bethesda games and mannequins, shit's about to get really fucked up and I don't appreciate this at all. :|

[atbussysparks]

MORE SCOUT HEADCANONS???? THIS MUTHAFUCKER OUT OF CONTROL!!!!

YALL THOUGHT I WAS DONE⁉️⁉️⁉️BACK WITH IT AGAIN YALL KNOW THE DRILL 🗣️🗣️

He tries to swim in the air if he's held by the waist

He died on December 4th 1987 because he finally listened to something other than Tom Jones for the first time in seven years and melted into a hot radioactive waste full of uranium, radium, graphite, zirconium, titanium magnesium and silicone dioxide. The song was "Walk Like an Egyptian" by The Bangles.

The only facial hair he ever had has a fu manchu

He has ridiculously big earlobes that he gauges when he's 30

He and spy once tricked a bunch of oysters on a beach to come back home with them but spy are them all before scout could even get the seasonings.

SIKE BITCH!!! THESE ARE TOKI HEADCANONS 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Toki Wartooth 🔛🔝❗❗❗

He also has giant earlobes, but every cat he's ever has sucks on them so he can't gauge them

He'd like to be under the sea in an octopus' garden, in the shade.

He hates everything to do with whipping. Or caning. If he hears a belt snap he starts chewing on his hand until it bleeds.

He was hyperdontia, and his canines are spiked because they're chipped!

He can sew very well, and has a pimp hat with Garfield embroidered on it.

The first American song he ever heard in America was "nasty bxtch" by bustdown.

He claims that the Norse god Loki appears in his room on occasion and leaves him peppers and sweets. This actually DOES happen. but every single time, Toki has been microdosing datura so even he has no idea if it's true.

He Stole a lobster and named it Björk. He's also stolen both hands from a mannequin in a jc Penny's when he was 17 in America.

He came to America when he was 16 years old, very close to 17, and had his 17th birthday in a thrift shop with an old couple.

Got high and called Dr rockso up and said "yous a bitch. Your mom ams a bitch. Your hair ams wack. Yo gear ams wack. Uuuuhhhh, Kafkaesque. Fuckins' pogo the clown bitch.... Okay, loves you rockzo, bye! *+꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡"

Rockzo was sitting right next to him egging him on.

A fan drove his car over a bridge with his wife inside over him but Charles made sure he never found out.

He listens to music while coloring and Murderface heard him listening to power metal, glam rock, 1980s pop, and death metal. In the midst of it all, pain loomed over them when ave maria began playing. Murderface brought him some garlic pickles after that.

His favorite pony is rainbow dash.

Anthrax doesn't affect him for whatever reason

He has a very faint scar that wraps from one end of his face, over the nose, and across to the other side (I'm not just projecting bro trust 🙏🏼)

His second favorite drink is pineapple fanta he WILL tear that shit up. Put a grocery store clerk outta house and home. Give the landfills somethin to cry about. Nathan walked into his room vaguely frightened and witnessed him surrounded by pineapple sody pop. It dripped from his his hands and walls n shit like a crime scene involving a mace.

Nathan quells his rage with pineapple slices. Pickles carbonated pineapple juice for him in secret and says "hehe quick get in there lil fucker." Skwisgarr lost an eyebrow to this event.

Goes to the Everglades and straight up harasses nature

[azzydoesstuff]

ultrakill update review!!!!

SPOILERS AHEAD SPOILERS AHEAD SPOILERS AHEAD SPOILERS AHEAD

IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED THE UPDATE YET FUCKIN' DO THAT NOW

okey now for the review:

7-1: GARDEN OF FORKING PATHS

i mean, it was fine. pretty good i guess. the atmosphere was wonderful, sure, but on my first try i spent 90% of the time tryna figure out what i was meant to do. i mean, i get that its SUPPOSED to be like a maze, but when actually gets you lost it kinda goes from "cool and lore accurate" to "lore accuracy at the cost of mild inconvenience". the second half of the level w/ the minotaur was sick, though. i will admit, i DID rage the first time i fought the minotaur cause its kinda not obvious what you're supposed to do to hit him (that stomach hitbox is the size of a fuckin hair) but after you get the hang of it, its a neat fight. i do feel like the railroad situation was kinda wasted by only bringing in 2 trams with enemies and then starting the bossfight with the third one. it woulda been cool to see many trams come and go with enemies on 'em, but oh well. also, jumpscare warning, thanks. very funny hakita. cool joke cool prank there. you got me with that one

7-2: LIGHT UP THE NIGHT

good level. i loved that war aesthetic and shit. the subway station area was a bit mid, and the hook platforming was kinda boring, but not that big of a deal. it introduced my favorite enemy of the update, which is a plus. *cough cough* guess which enemy i'm talking about *cough cough* gutterman *cough*. the challenge was actually pretty creative. wasn't easy to figure out, but also didn't take me like an hour. the archive area where you had to take the correct path was cool, the area just looked cool in general.

7-3: NO SOUND, NO MEMORY

imo: best level aesthetically, kinda mid gameplay-wise. i will admit i may or may not have shat pant when scary flashlight intro. in general, the level layout is spirally at best and messy and confusing at worst, but it's made up for with the amazing cherry blossom trees scenery. the blood tree thing mechanic was actually a really cool idea (also the trees are pretty) but i feel it was executed kinda badly. the whole blood monsters thing just feels weird. i think it'd have been better if it was just normal enemies whose blood fed the tree. the final area was really cool though, nice to see the dual wield powerup back in action. the whole infighting mechanic was also neat, with the way it gets wat harder if you mark yourself for death and disable it.

7-4: ...LIKE ANTENNAS TO HEAVEN

this level is just... mwah! climbing up a colossal machine was awesome, the idol shield area was cool with the time limit and stuff, the escape sequence at the end was awesome (i love escaping from crumbling/soon-to-detonate buildings in games). everything about this level was absolute perfection... except for the bossfight itself. both of the bossfights, actually. look, the defense system had a cramped arena with lackluster attacks and the whole fight was generally really boring and stupid. did not have fun at all. just move around in a circle to dodge the laser while you attack the turrets, ooooooohhhh thrilling... and don't even get me started on the core fight. absolutely idiotic. i hated it. the spinning laser walls felt awkward and the idol shields were infuriating. it sucks so bad that one of the laser walls is at an awkward height that requires you to dash mid-air to move at its level. the whole level was great but the bossfight ruins it for me, really.

ENEMY REVIEWS

MANNEQUIN:

honestly, not a big fan. the design and lore are good, but the attacks are just... annoying. its like a fly that pisses you off from afar. just buzzing around, making itself your problem. they really felt the need to give them prime boss-style combo melees and mindflayer's horrid homing projectiles, huh?

GUTTERMAN:

easily my favorite enemy of the update. i love it when enemies are easy to parry/style on. so satisfying and dopamine-inducing. when i saw the teaser i thought their machine gunning would be annoying, but surprisingly they're only really a virtue-level threat if you ignore them for too long and that's about it. very nice enemy

GUTTERTANK:

easily my LEAST favorite enemy of the update. super inconsistent, fast moving makes it hard to follow, random explosions everywhere with me having no idea where they're coming form, AND you can't even get close to them to heal because they just fly-swat you right away with an unparryable smack. the terminal says to bait out the attack, but the cooldown is so small that they can just do it twice. better off just dash-boosting through the hit to ignore it.

MINOTAUR:

hated at first, but now grew fond of it once i've mastered its patterns. it was like fighting the ferryman all over again, really. i felt cheated and as though it was unfair at first, but once you get the hang of him he's really not that difficult to deal with. also, really sad lore. sorry minotaur.

EARTHMOVER:

i mean what's there to say about it. i already talked about the fight in the 7-4 section what's there even to say here. cool design, i guess?? nice lore entry...?

BIG JOHNINATOR:

big johninator

NEW FEATURE REVIEWS

sharpening of some pixelated textures:

they made the projectile and maurice charging laser sprites less pixel-ey. i'm not too happy with this change, actually. i thought it looked fine, now it just looks... weird.

charged freezeframe rockets:

if you hold a rocket frozen for a second, it'll turn blue and "supercharged", causing its explosion to be WAYYY bigger when shot. this allows for INSANE new nuke tech, it's unbelievable. compare the size of the previous biggest possible explosion (shotgun core + malicious railcannon) and the one you get now with charged rocket + malicious railcannon, it's unreal. literally the size of the cybergrind arena. this changes EVERYTHING. i'm like 90% sure this massive explosion size is unintentional and is getting nerfed within a week.

dying mindflayer knuckleblasting:

when a midflayer is doing its death animation, you can punch it with the knuckleblaster to make it go flying and firing its laser everywhere and exploding after a bit. it's actually fucking hilarious but has zero use in-game because of how situational and difficult to pull off it is.

[anynextofkin]

Ellie's First Days

Hello! I've been running super late on my main fic, so here's a little something for all of y'all waiting so patiently. I promise Moth&Wolf chapter 16 is on its way, its just kicking my ass. In the mean time, here's a little one-shot I threw together instead of working on my WIP.

CW: mention of perished child

*************************************************

The air was thick, tinged a noxious green. A flurry of spores passed over the foggy lenses of the Abbot’s gas mask. He almost wanted to bat at them like snowflakes, especially the clumps collecting on his long duster of worn, brown leather. If not for the heavy rifle in his hands, Abbot might’ve swatted around his direct vicinity for a better view of the darkened space. The white cone of light projecting from the flash light duct taped to the barrel of his weapon reached no more than two feet ahead of him. When he got close enough, benches would appear out of the shadows, fungus-y storefronts and once-flashy signage. It was the mannequins that really fucked with Abbot, standing their all sleek and faceless in their weird clothes. He shivered, eyeing one distrustfully as he followed his companion.

“Really fuckin’ hope there’s nothin creeping around down here,” Abbot murmured. 

It was nervous talk, something to try to distract from the acidic churn of anxiety in his gut. The shadow next to him, a tall, older man called Rip or Kip, or something like that. Rip released a gruff sigh from a mouth Abbot had never seen from behind the wiry, gray beard.

“Seems like the kinda place for a buncha stalkers to hole up,” Abbot continued, “I hate them things so much-”

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Rip said, cutting him off, “If there is anything down here, the sound of your grating-ass voice ain’t gonna help us.”

“Right,” Abbot coughed, “Sorry-”

Rip sighed heavily again, and Abbot knew it was his final warning. He snapped his mouth shut and adjusted his grip on his rifle. He wanted to check the chamber again, even though he knew it was full to capacity. He just wanted to make sure.

They wandered through the mall’s lower levels, no breakage in the heavy pall of spores. Abbot was starting to get claustrophobic as his mask grew stuffier and hotter. Rip knew the tunnels well so Ab stayed out of the man’s way. Supposedly, it led to the general vicinity where some Fireflies had been seen getting in and out of the Boston QZ. Unlucky bastards could’ve chosen anywhere, but they’d picked one of the Raider roads down here in Southie. Abbot’s people hadn’t found where exactly yet they were, but they were so close to figuring it out it had his heart ticking in anticipation. Raids meant a full stomach, usually, and fresh clothes. If you were lucky, more bullets and a woman for the next night or two, not that he cared about ‘having’ a woman. That  was just the line Abbot had been sold when he joined up last month.

The old man ahead of them paused for a moment, Ab almost walking straight into his back. He listened, head twitching towards the sounds of dripping pipes or rats scurrying around. Abbot only moved forward once Rip did.

Rip had been here since Outbreak day. Practically founded the raiding party. Abbot was just hoping for regular meals and someone to watch his back out here, so he joined up. Guys like Rip though, sometimes Abbot felt like they weren’t in it for the scavenging at all. The food and ammo- it was nothing to them. A convenient excuse to blow someone’s brains out or make them feel small. Abbot was still trying to convince himself being here with them was better than being on his own.  Every day felt like a gamble back then, a toss of the dice with crossed fingers and the hope he got to live another day.

But at least Abbot hadn’t been a murderer.

About an hour ago, they’d spotted a man in Firefly patches headed north along the water. Given his general direction, it was likely he was headed towards their hidden base. It looked like they were trying to get to the Summer Street Bridge. The crumbling stretch of ancient highway was one of the only ways to get over the flooding any more. Abbot remembered when it was different. He remembered the view of the water from a school bus seat and drawing shapes in the fog he made on the windows with his breath. That was where they’d corner them, on the bridge. 

Abbot grit his teeth, trying to think of how good it was going to feel to go to bed with a full stomach.

There was a woman and a kid with him. 

The little one stumbled along on the stubby legs; he couldn’t have been more than three. Abbot’s group killed the men as a rule, and they never kept the kids. Abbot heard they usually killed them too, or left them in the ruins alongside the corpses of their parents. A few of the guys joked that they’d eat them. Abbot hadn’t ever encountered kids on the road. At least not ones still living. In the back of his mind, he hoped the stragglers would get wise and figure out they were being followed. If they were smart, they’d just hide.

A cry rang out in the gloom.

Shrill and wailing, it echoed across the once-smooth stone floors and grimy glass store fronts. Rip and Abbot both jumped at the sudden scream, their lights flickering in the musty space trying to find the source. It grew quiet, and all Abbot could hear was his own heavy breathing inside the mask.

“What in the shit was that?” Ab hissed. Rip was stalking around in near-silence, rifle held high and careful to step around crunchy debris.

“Not sure,” he grumbled, “Sounded almost like a Clicker-”

It wailed again, short, gasping breaths.

“Is that a fucking baby?”

Rip didn’t say anything, but Abbot followed close behind him as they drew closer to the cries. It was definitely a baby, a young one. A new stickiness under Abbot’s boots made him look down.

Blood like glinting, black oil winked up at them from the gritty flooring. It was fresh, no more than an hour if he had to guess. 

“Shit,” Rip finally muttered, his light falling on shapes in the dark. 

There were two corpses, one man and one woman. Their bodies were twisted in strange angled, blood coagulating from wounds that didn’t look like they came from infected. Abbot squinted at their maskless faces. Their eyes weren’t bulging or bleeding the way they would if they’d breathed the spores. It seemed more like their final breaths were drawn before the spores could affect them. Abbot frowned, then looked up. There was a bright light in the glass ceiling above.

“They must’ve fallen through,” Abbot observed.

Rip shined his light over the dead man, and Abbot’s eyes fell on the Firefly symbol around the arm.

“Well shit,” Rip hissed, kicking the man over angrily, “These were our guys. Goddamn.”

The old man bent to pick through the man’s pockets and bags, and Abbot’s eyes lingered on the smallest corpse, the third he hadn’t seen right away. It seemed like a blessing the child perished with his parents; Abbot had seen infected children. He was grateful to not be seeing another. 

“Hows about we pick these ones clean and tell the others we lost their trail? Split the their shit 50-50 so the day isn’t a total fuckin’ loss.”

Abbot nodded without a word, swinging his rifle around his back and bending to the woman’s corpse. He started to undo the bundle of cloth around her torso, hoping for something valuable in the rough fabric. Abbot wasn’t expecting the damn thing to move.

“CHRIST!”

Abbot jumped back, falling onto his ass with his heart hammering in his chest. Rip shot to his feet, his gun pointing at the corpse.

“What, what?” he demanded.

Abbot swallowed, eyes wide as she came to a crouch beside the woman again. The chubby fist that came flapping out of the wrapped cloth. He stared dumbly for a second before pulling the blanket down for a better view. A small face poked out, squinting into the flashlight on Abbot’s gun

“Holy shit….” he breathed, letting his rifle fall. “It’s fucking alive.”

The child regarded him with pale green eyes, wispy red hairs clinging to its skull and dirt on its round cheeks. There were no gas masks for babies, not that Abbot had ever seen. But the child wasn’t coughing, there were no black veins against her face or blood in her eyes. Its face twisted up, lower lip trembling as the baby started to fuss from a toothless, gummy mouth. It whimpered a tragic little cry.

Rip took a step forward, aiming his gun at the infant.

“Get back- I got this,” he grumbled. Abbot reacted, shooting at hand out over the infant to stop Rip from pulling the trigger.

“Whoa wait, man-”

“What’dya mean ‘wait’?” Rip asked in a caustic tone, “Its fuckin’ infected. And even if it weren’t, you aint that kid’s mama- and we ain’t a fuckin’ kindergarten.”

“It’s fine, Rip, just look at it! It’s not coughing, its not all fucked up in the face. I think its ok-”

“Boy are you goddamn insane? Just get the fuck outta my way-”

Abbot bolted to his feet, pushing Rip several steps back with a hard jab to his chest.

“Oh, you really fucked up now,” Rip snarled, raising his rifle again.

There was a resounding bang.

Rip dropped to the ground like a sack of bricks. Abbot dropped his rifle to his side, staring at the fresh corpse.

“Oh shit…,” he breathed, shaking his head. 

That was dumb. That was so fucking dumb. The other raiders would skin Abbot alive. He stared at Rip’s body, blood pouring from the wound over his heart. Abbot’s hands were shaking.

 Below, the baby started to fuss loudly.

Abbot’s eyes fluttered down and he crouched between the corpses. The infant was cold to the touch and covered in the sticky blood of someone else. Ab rifled through the other bags until he found a tin of milky white powder and a baby bottle. He helped himself to their medical supplies and food, the few bullets they had. They didn’t need it anymore. He then looked long and hard at the child, still nestled against the dead woman’s chest. It stared back, big round eyes watching Abbot back. It breathed normally, not so much as a hitch in each little inhale. Abbot didn’t know how to explain it- maybe it took longer for little kids? He wouldn’t know until-

There was a screech of a Clicker somewhere in the dark behind him. Abbot scooped the infant from the dead woman’s embrace and headed for the exit.

*********

“God, come on already,” Abbot grunted, adjusting the fussing baby on his shoulder and gently patting her back. “You know you’d feel better if you just burped, you little shit.”

The little girl belched loudly, then released a contented gurgle. 

“See?” he said matter-of-factly, “Told you.”

The child yawned and stretched, arching her little back. Abbot couldn’t help but smile. She was impossibly small, and still stringy in the way new babies were. She reminded him of his childhood, back before the world went to shit. The oldest of six back then, and the child his single mother relied on to keep his younger siblings in order. Helping with homework, baths, finding shoes, cooking meals. The whole nine. He remembered hating them, and his mother, for stealing away his youth. Now, Abbot would give everything to see them again. He couldn’t remember if his youngest sister’s eyes were blue or brown anymore. It was strange how seven years could feel like seven lifetimes.

It had been two days since he’d pulled the child from that spore-filled mall. They hadn’t gotten very far. Ab wanted to watch her, make sure he wasn’t going to get gummed to death by a freaky baby infected if he put her in a satchel and carried her. So far, the child was still normal. 

She acted just like a baby should, wanted warm milk every few hours and to be butt-patted to sleep. She still didn’t have a name, in part because he didn’t think she’d make it long enough for it to matter. But for the last few hours, Abbot had started brainstorming. Anita, after his favorite auntie. Or maybe Josephine for his grandmother. Abbot never thought he’d get to name a person, so he didn’t want to fuck it up. He could name her something from a game- Peach? Zelda? He could call her Zee.

“Little Zee…” he murmured, standing carefully so that he didn’t jostle the sleeping child. 

He’d been using a shopping basket as her cradle. It was padded with dead leaves on the bottom for warmth and a blanket he boiled then air dried to make sure it was clean. He nestled her inside, adjusting the blanket so that it wasn’t in any danger of covering her face as she slept.

Abbot stood up straight and looked down at the child, hands on his hips. He released a massive yawn, using one hand to rub his brow.

“What the fuck am I doing…?” he muttered to himself, not for the first time but certainly the last.

Abbot saw the shadow flitting across the wall ahead of him too late. Arms snaked around him, then the sickening pinch of a blade against his throat.

“Got you, you traitorous fuck,” a man’s voice hissed. 

Abbot could feel his flesh splitting as the knife ran from ear to ear. He fell to his knees, coughing as hot, itching blood drenched his hands. He collapsed onto his side, gasping up at the person standing above them. 

“This is for Rip, asshole,” the Raider said, and pointed a pistol at Abbot’s face. 

There was a flash, and a bang. 

***********

Marlene was crawling out of the spore-filled bottom level of the mall. Raiders were all over this part of town, and she’d run into more than a few trying to get down there. Their blood was crusted against her face and under her fingernails. Irritating obstacles, needless distractions from her goal. The corpse’s Marlene left behind stained the mall’s gritty, stone floors.

It was deep in the guts of the old mall where she found them, Ty and Marsha and their toddler. New Firefly recruits they’d picked up on their way in from Salt Lake. It felt cruel that they’d gotten close enough to see the goddamn gates of the QZ, only to start losing people now. 

Marsha’s wrap was empty. Marlene looked, but the second child had gone without a trace. They wouldn’t have abandoned the girl, not in a million years. And no way the child could have crawled away; she could barely hold her own head up yet. 

Only days ago, Marlene begged Marsha to do what Marlene couldn’t and keep the newborn alive. The couple had been touched, honored even, to look after Anna Williams’ daughter. All Marlene had to do was get them safely into Boston QZ where they’d have a safe place to raise the children, and to help with Firefly operations undercover.

Marlene had been relieved, so fucking relieved to pass off Anna’s kid on someone else. The Fireflies and motherhood… Marlene couldn’t do both. In her desperation to run away from a baby, Marlene let her best friend down again. 

Anna’s baby girl, carried off by infected or some goddamn Raider. 

Marlene wasn’t the type to wallow, to thrash and scream and lose herself to emotion. But if ever there was a time when she wanted to, it was then. 

She pulled off her mask as the air cleared, gasping for fresh air. She shielded her eyes from the orange glare of the sunset, pouring in from a broken wall ahead of her. The QZ’s wall ran the length of the skyline just beyond the Summer Street bridge. Marlene’s cool eyes scanned the rooftops, mapping her route over the bridge.

A sudden gunshot made a flock of pigeons on a nearby rooftop startle into flight.

Marlene crouched down fast, ducking behind a broken bit of brick wall and peeking out at the building across the road where the shot came from. A raider was stepping out of a window onto a fire escape. She watched him descend to the street and disappear around a northern block. It was only when Marlene was sure she was alone that she heard something on the breeze. 

Loud and clear, the muffled cry of a baby. 

Marlene’s heart nearly stopped. She held her breath, sure she was only imagining it. The crying persisted and grew louder as Marlene stood staring at the building across the road. She wouldn’t remember climbing down, scrambling across the street or heaving herself up to the fire escape. 

Marlene climbed inside the spacious loft of rotting wood and exposed piping. In one corner there was a small camping stove, water still simmering in a pot over it. There was an empty baby bottle next to it. Marlene stepped over the dead raider on the floor, his blood still warm and runny. From the red shopping basket, padded with leaves and a tattered blue blanket, came a soft whimper. Marlene held her breath as she walked over on stiff legs, wondering if she should be praying. Thanking someone, or begging for forgiveness.

Anna….

The infant stared up at Marlene with watering green eyes. Marlene let out a sob. She stowed her weapon and reached for the child. She held the little girl close, breathing in the new-baby smell and pressing a soft kiss to the child’s velvety red hair.

“I got you Ellie,” Marlene breathed, tears warm on her cheeks, “I got you, baby girl.”

[honeysucklethornsandalligtrhorns]

TSP Character Headcanons!!

these are just personal headcanons of mine- you are not obliged to agree :]]

btw this will be a long long post so im putting the cut here lmao

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣:

-demisexual af. like he sees absolutely no appeal in ANYONE unless he's hardcore bonded with em (cough cough Stanley)

-ik this one is common but he absolutely talks with his hands, like, to the point where you have to stand further back because they're gesturing so much

-cannot STAND anything scented. scented candles, soap, even certain foods (hm? projecting onto characters who?)

-He could change his voice to sound like anything (like with the mannequin wife) they just went with a british accent since it thought it made them sound 'smart and sophisticated'.

-germophobe to the max- always washing his hands, wiping stuff down, etc.. it wears gloves often in order to keep itself clean (and sane)

-only ever eats dark chocolate (FOR THE RECORD I FUCKIN HATE DARK CHOCOLATE)

-he loaded in his human avatar once and hit their funny bone/ulnar nerve HARD against a desk, and proceeded to sob for an hour while Stanley calmed him down

-he/they/it pronouns babyyy

-will often show Stanley the dumbest most grandma/white mom-eqsue facebook memes (he thinks its comedy gold and Stanley never has the heart to tell it that they're oh so painfully unfunny)

-when it realised he had feelings for Stanley he immediately reset out of surprise and fear (stanley was three hours into the baby game and wanted to strangle them afterwards)

𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕝𝕖𝕪:

-before the Parable he'd use almost an entire bottle of hair gel every day to keep his hair flat (he honestly prefers it natural)

-this guy is the biggest fucking fan of fidget toys. buttons especially.

-pansexual but demiromantic babyyyy

-has in fact eaten several bugs, the current running list including a cockroach, a mealworm, and a surprising number of ants and flies (a lot of them by accident)

-has also eaten dirt, mud, and candy wrappers- he was the type of kid who just put everything in his mouth lmao

-uses 5 million emojis/tone indicators when he texts, it started out as a joke but now he genuinely feels like he can't get his point across without them

-instead of scented things, he can't stand bad textures- the feeling of stucco walls, rubbing your fingernail wrong etc.. it's one of the reasons he's not the biggest fan of slime- he hates the feeling of it sticking to your fingers.

-he fuckin loves citrus. the fruits, the scent, etc..

-when he realised he had feelings for the Narrator he just. locked himself in the broom closet with the bucket for a couple hours.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕒:

-demigirl AND a lesbian babyyy

-she loves berries. blueberries especially.

-yes, she can backflip. she learned how back in high school, trying out for cheer (their crush was on the team and they wanted to impress her).

-has a hard time letting go of things- gets attached very easily lmao. She has a ton of burnt-out candles and broken mugs still sitting around their apartment.

-has punched multiple people in the face and... other places, in defense of her friends- loyal af

-likes to sing but is mediocre at best; they're really into showtunes and 70s 'hippie music'. she got to see stevie nicks in concert, and considers it one of her highest achievements. also partial to heavier stuff like rock and roll

-has a really close relationship with their dad- he helped her a lot growing up and he was so supportive of them when she came out (projecting again?? ME???)

-she has a 14-year-old pet cockatoo named Alfred (idk why im including this it's just something i believe in)

this post is getting so long but i just had to include my favorites, part 2 later!!

[figula]

today

having clare has been so nice - she's here all day tmr and leaves about 6pm. reconnecting w/ her has actually been so lovely... i always wished in uni that we had been better friends bc i always thought she was really cool lol but i honestly was just so nuts back in uni (long-term followers will recall how much i fuckin hated it) that i didnt have the emotional capacity for like protracted friend-making so im rly glad that like 8y later we've circled back round. + im rly happy she fits in so well w/ the established gang as well like it's just been a really really nice thing to happen

i am thinking of rehauling the photography for my wigs + buying a bust/mannequin thing for the heads i dont have a body for, but who knew this would be fucking impossible to find?? searching "bjd doll bust" just (predictably) brings up a lot of optional boob sizes for dolls (:|) but very little of the kind of thing i actually want. v annoying bc a body for the main head i need one for is like 500 dollars and literally just ...no thanks

[nagdabbit]

please tell me about some of the women in ataoab. who is there and what roles do they play? (also fuckin' tumblr don't put the ask next to the follow button challenge)

so, to my great shame, theres not a lot

partially, i just. i have one of those brains that doesn't picture people well, so when i lose grasp of a person's image in my brain it replaces them with either people i know or like faceless mannequins. or, in the case of women, my own face cuz i have to see that shit every day so i know if really well, and that just immediately skeeves my brain out and flushes all my fic thoughts out the window. it's a weird thing, but i don't actually want to be a character in my fics, so it just sends me right out regardless

the other half is that i really like midwest gothic. i like things that are made claustrophobic by the sheer expanse of them. the claustrophobic feeling of being the only living thing for miles. and that was kinda helped a long by having as few characters as possible, and even fewer narrators. both danny and yuta arrive by the time that only bryan, mox and claudio are left, and i think only two chapters really happen away from the mountain. so it's just a very contained story that didn't work the more characters i added to it. and also because of some of the fates of characters outside the story, it felt like a step too far to add more characters only to give them grizzly ends. i can handle body horror, but i draw the line at inserting a character just to kill them horribly

however, anna IS there—at least in one flashback/vignette chapter. and she's just as mean and unhinged as we all love her being! i hate the idea of having to write jericho, but the idea of danny running away to the city and getting adopted by matt and ang and getting an unhinged adopted sister anna was too good to leave out!

i was originally going to include a lot of little vignettes of characters that wouldve come to the mountain long before danny and yuta, but, aside from just adding a lot more work, would've made it so much harder for me to perform the narrative sleight of hand I'm trying to achieve. i just do well with small casts and stolen moments, i think

this was a lot and not a good answer probably. but also ive been thinking about how i need to write more women lately and it's been bothering me that i just have that stupid mental block that fucks me up

[beaversatemygrandma]

Sometimes when you’re forced to go into one of those sports store with culty southern clothing lines and an uncomfortable amount of guns you just need to complain the entire time because they were playing Ed Sheeran and you got jumpscared by a mannequin dressed exactly like the fake rednecks who used to bully you and your friends at school

[cruncherzz]

⚠️ SPOILER Warning⚠️ (if you wanna play SOR blind then don't read this)

Shadows of Rose is an objectively bad DLC. You're free to have your own opinions but this is mine. It's a garbage DLC with horrible pacing, exposition, and energy.

I'm gonna start this off by saying one of the first things that stood out with this fucking thing--the Duke. What? The Duke is evil in this DLC?! Woah, why? Literally why, Capcom?! Was he upset that Amazon was running him out of business and took it out on the only able-bodied person around? Motherfucker went from being a tasteful NPC that entertained you with his small one-liners and timing to "Evil Pillsbury Doughboy with a shitty Halloween mask." It baffles the mind as to why he's evil in this for no fucking reason.

Also, why all the Rose's?! WTF? I would've loved to know why there were infinite Rose's just mulling about in this Megamycete Hellscape.

Also, also, Rose is a really annoying protagonist. It might just be because I genuinely don't care about Ethan Winter's and his "saga" anymore but I digress. Her motivation for wanting to get rid of her powers is that she doesn't have friends-- motherfucker, I don't have friends. Deal with it. They haven't posed a serious issue besides being a point of complaint like legitimately this girl's horrible past with her powers boil down to her having "white sweat." Her sweating milk like a platypus is what drives this bitch into going into the consciousness of a being dubbed the "Black God."

Ethan is also really dumb in this. "I called myself Michael because I didn't want to shock you." Omfg dude, she's already in the BLACK GOD'S consciousness and freaking out about dying to these deux ex machina Dementor ripoffs. Tell your fucking daughter who you are??? It really makes me laugh that Capcom still doesn't show his fucking face on screen too. Is he really that ugly? WHEEZE

Okay... the only thing. THE ONLY THING that I semi-enjoyed was seeing Eveline in this--and it's still not a very good encounter. Like, you deal with fighting Eveline specifically for like a minute and then you're done. It's just a repeat of Ethan's bit in RE7 where she shockwaves you backwards a bit and you deal damage to her after. No difference. It's lazy.

I kind of liked the Beneviento house for the horror aspects, I'm personally really terrified of mannequins. I hate them with a mf passion so the dolls and mannequins were a really nice touch.

I didn't like that none of the lords were there, we don't even get a mf backstory for any of them and yet this fucking character that was an infant in RE8 gets her own 3 hour DLC?? Cool. Awesome.

Speaking of the lords, Miranda's back! She also looks just... weird. It's barely noticeable but like... she doesn't look all the way like her normal character design; they fixed how fucking shiny she was from the RE8 game though so that's... good? Girl ain't greasy no more. One thing ticked right then, Capcom.

The final battle. Ooh, the final battle. Hah! ...I actually kinda liked the final battle because I like the animation for Miranda's wings but that's mostly it. I don't care for the speech that Ethan gives Rose about never giving up and all that jazz. Also, despite you only being able to use a certain amount of Rose's power throughout this DLC, because of the power of Moldy Papa speech and plot armor, she now can throw full as fucking trees at this bitch, absorb projectiles, and teleport. Not a joke. Where was this like 40 minutes ago??? It's just... annoying.

Y'know what really annoys me also? The ammo in this game. You actually get less ammo found and given to you in this game then the ammo drops around the Baker house in RE7. Like, "Michael" gives you some because even the game devs know they didn't fucking put much.

And one of the biggest things for me--Mia Winters. Where the actual fuck was Mia fucking Winters? Rosemary Winters mother, y'know, the woman who raised her and loved her?! She is mentioned--guess how many times--fucking once. She is mentioned once in this whole fucking thing. It's mind-boggling. I get on the Wiki for this game, it's established that Rose doesn't see Mia much now that she's grown up and shit. Does that eliminate the right to her having a relationship with the woman though?! Does Capcom just hate this woman?! Mia is mentioned once in a diary entry of Rose's from when she was a kid, it wasn't even directly about Mia. It was about her white fucking milk sweat and her wanting to have friends. Bitch, I could care less about your friend problems and milky skin. I waited this entire DLC for a flashback, a scene, a story with this woman and I got a paragraph from a elementary schooler complaining about side effects of mold puberty and mannequins that resembled Mia slightly that scared the shit outta me. Great work, Capcom. God, I hate this fucking game.

This game is really fucking irritating like... I actually am seething in vc right now with @highlifeboat. Capcom said they'd deliver and they did.

Fucking dogshit.

Absolute fucking dogshit

Anyway, my favorite part was when I got to turn off my Xbox and forget I ever touched this piece of shit.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

chained, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You ever fuck someone wearing a collar and a chain... that's attached to the hot girl with the demonic grin? No? Just Min Yoongi? In his defense, he really likes a bad bitch.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; yup, there are Marilyn Manson and Slipknot references; D/s smut (fem reader, black leather collars and a chain leash, [a lot of] choking, saliva everywhere, handjob, m-receiving oral, slight edging, hair pulling, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU - rapper, sub!Yoongi x goth (also kinda his manager? lol) dom!reader; kinda PWP; Yoongi's POV

--

feel like I'm hexed, yeah, that bitch bad collar on her neck and her ass real fat

Most people would say, “Nah, dude, don’t mess with girls like that.”

Most people would say, “She’s fucking scary, why the hell would you think she’s hot?”

Most people would, but Min Yoongi wasn’t most people.

“I want to play a game.”

He tilted his head. “Then let’s play a game.”

She grinned, wild hair over her left eye. “Yeah?”

The first time he met her, he was at a bar and a woman was chatting him up, engaging him in conversation he didn’t want to be in. Fuck. The only reason he came was to accompany his friends, but they were all much more extroverted than he was and had already wandered off with potentials of the night. He didn’t want a potential. He just wanted a damn shot of whiskey and then he was going to slink into a corner and pretend nobody existed.

He minimized his responses to, “Mhm” and “Yeah,” but the woman wasn’t getting the hint and the bartender was busy. Sigh.

All of a sudden, a short man with a white, mannequin-like mask appeared. The white mask was painted with black streaks. He had stringy, long black and red hair and was wearing black coveralls.

Yoongi and the woman jumped away from each other, disconcerted by the appearance of the strange, tiny man.

“Bartender! Hey, real quick, can you get my friend here a drink?”

And then, fuck.

Black leather jacket, silver hardware. Tight fitted white top, so shredded the black bra underneath was visible. Short black pleated skirt. Ripped tights. Thick black boots with chains. Yoongi felt his eyes widen, looking up and down at this curvy frame. Wild hair, lush tits, juicy thighs, an ass that could put anyone in a trance with the way those hips swayed. Dark makeup, playful grin with red-stained lips.

A black choker with at least eight-centimeter spikes.

A pure white contact lens in her left eye.

“Hey, you can’t cover your face here,” a patron interrupted. “That’s creepy.”

The small man in the mask didn’t reply. The woman in black, however, swatted a hand like she was whacking away a fly.

“He’s part of the entertainment. Buzz off.”

“Oh, yes, you’re the band’s drummer, right?” The bartender rushed over. “Sorry, sorry. What will it be?”

The masked man said nothing.

“Double shot whiskey on the rocks,” the woman replied for him. “Did I get it right this time, Hana?”

A single nod from that stringy head.

“What about you?”

Yoongi jumped, startled the woman in black leather was addressing him. She cocked her head to the confused bartender. “You’ve been standing here ignored for the past ten minutes. I noticed because I was waiting for the guys to suit up to bring Hana to the bar.” She waved her hand. “Come on. Give me your order. I got you.”

“O… Oh. Same thing.”

She nodded. “Ya heard him. And don’t just only pay attention to cute girls, bartender.”

The bartender’s cheeks flushed. “A-Ah, I apologize! I’ll have them ready right away.”

The woman sighed and shook her head, completely ignoring the chatty woman who was making eyes at Yoongi, trying to get near him again. Yoongi pretended not to notice, stepping closer to the short, creepy man. The white mask didn’t move. The woman leaned down a bit because the man was shorter than she was with her height and platform boots.

“Don’t be takin’ nothing with the whiskey now. I’m treatin’ ya,” she chuckled under her breath.

Yoongi noticed the slight satoori. It made her voice a little deep and gruff.

“Shut it.”

She snickered. “Made you talk, Hana.”

The white mask went back to being silent.

She sighed and stood back up turning her attention to Yoongi. “Sorry about my friend here. He doesn’t like talking or people. I’m trying to get him to be more personable. Is it working?”

Yoongi blinked.

“Uh.”

Damn, every time she smiled, he felt a thrill shoot up his spine. White teeth showing, pink tongue peeking out between them.

It just seemed a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

“I know it’s not working. Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The masked man might as well have been a mannequin with how still he was.

“You’re his manager?” Yoongi found himself asking.

She shrugged. “Kind of? I actually just own the studio space the band records. But I like coming to the gigs sometimes if I can. Good excuse to get a little drunk, eh? Plus, I’m trying to find musicians to rent out the other spaces.”

Fuck.

Was it his lucky day or what?

“I’m looking for a studio space to record my music, actually.”

Her eyebrows raised. “No shit? You wanna talk some business?”

Oh, they talked business to bass and drums thundering the bar.

Later, they talked about some… other things too. What could he say? Yoongi liked a bad bitch. She wore leather, she owned cluster of studio spaces – “well, they ain’t mine, they’re my dad’s, but he’s never here, he’s off gambling and chasing booty, I think” – she gave him a fair price, and she loved to suck dick.

Yoongi didn’t find out about that last bit until later.

Right now, she was clipping the end of a silver chain to the collar around his neck.

It was heavy, probably metal. The collar he was wearing was thick black leather, with a steel ring resting against his collarbones. Yoongi was pretty sure she was doing a number on him. He wore a lot of black, yeah. He liked leather jackets too. But being around her presence was messing with his head and he was pretty sure he was being influenced by her energy. He used to hate his eye shape and his dark circles, but when he saw himself in the mirror with her tangled around him, riding his dick, he found himself thinking he didn’t look so bad after all. He looked good standing with the woman with the white contact lens and the demonic grin.

Maybe he was a little crazy, but everyone was a little crazy. Yoongi wasn’t worried about something like that.

Right now, she licked her teeth with that lithe, pink tongue of hers.

The other end of the chain was connected to the collar around her neck.

“You wanna play?” she drawled.

Fuck, he loved that shit. Her voice got slightly deep and throaty when she spoke in satoori. He wasn’t sure if she noticed it or not. It must be from her father. She mentioned that she had been raised by her dad – “sporadically, he liked to travel and, by travel, I mean gamble and chase ass, although surprisingly he didn’t come back with more kids, so I guess he learned his lesson” – but she was kind of the same way.

Not the gambling bit.

He didn’t really mind it though. She didn’t try to hide anything and he encouraged her to be herself. Plus, no one was getting the treatment he got. Yoongi was pretty sure about that, because when she fucked around, she did it in public. He had to be the one to tell her to take it upstairs and go for the throat.

Alright, not the throat. The dick.

In some way, Yoongi felt that was her way of asking if he approved, because she never took it upstairs and out of his sight unless he gave her the go ahead.

Right now, her tongue extended and wiggled in the air, glossy and slick with her saliva.

He smirked, open-mouthed and with a flick of tongue at the edge of his teeth.

She gripped the chain and yanked him by the neck to her face, crashing that demonic grin to his lips.

Like an injection or a spell, it gave him a rush, the firm leather snapping against his neck, chained to her, both wearing the collars, but she was always in control, always, and he liked it like that, liked the way she traced his lips with her powerful tongue, her saliva his aphrodisiac, before she captured his lips and rolled her body into his lap, skin to skin, moving like a snake, his gasp against her devouring mouth, her bare ass sliding on his thigh, fuck, so sexy, so soft, so bouncy, one hand on his face and another on his shoulder, fingers spread out and tendons flexing.

He liked to say she was the angel that held up her blinding halo with devil horns.

She yanked on the chain and Yoongi sucked in a breath, closing one eye as she licked his cheek, ending with a kiss on his brow. Cold air chilled his wet skin, making him shiver.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

Pretty sure neither of them believed in a god but it got the point across.

He raised his hand and she smacked his wrist down, pinning it to the bed.

“Nuh uh.”

Yoongi wasn’t really expecting her to let him.

He raised his other hand. It was immediately swatted down onto the bed, her eyebrow cocking.

“Naughty, naughty.”

He cocked an eyebrow back, defying.

She leaned down and snatched the chain in her mouth, tugging on it with teeth and neck, narrowing her eyes. The white contact lens on her left eye gleamed under her lashes. She always wore it except right before sleeping. He once asked her why and she had shrugged.

“Mental security, I guess.”

Now, she growled like an animal.

“Down.”

She looked like she was about to headbutt him. He wouldn’t put it past her.

He lowered himself slowly, her mouth holding the chain taut until he was laying on the bed. She grinned, pleased at his obedience. Yoongi was quite sure that she was probably the closest being to a succubus that he would ever encounter with the violent thrill of arousal she was giving him with those plush lips and white teeth around the silver chain, pink tongue circling around the metal to tease him.

Maybe he was the crazy one for being turned on by it.

She dropped the chain on his chest. He flinched, the wet, heavy metal thudding onto his sternum, right against his pounding heartbeat. She rubbed her thigh against his balls and hardening cock, raising her head, chain following, higher, higher, letting go of his hands, arching her back, tits up, until it was fully taut between his neck and hers, the sides of the collars forcefully digging into his neck and hers. Yoongi did not lift his head from the bed to reduce the tension. Her devilish smile widened. A chain tug-of-war between collar to collar, both of them choking the other.

She lifted her hand and licked her palm, saturating it with saliva.

She reached down and wrapped her long fingers around his stiff length.

Didn’t say he could touch her though, so Yoongi didn’t.

“Think you can last longer than last time?”

He clenched his jaw. “Maybe.”

She pulled harder and he locked his neck and shoulders, clutching the sheets with a sharp gasp, pleasure shooting up his core, firm, strong strokes up and down his cock, fuck, fuck, every damn time, that second of cold as her saliva soaked his skin and then it warmed up fast to hot, slippery ecstasy, hard and getting harder, his pre-cum mixing with her saliva, staring at her hard nipples and juicy hips, knees around one of his thighs, shaking her ass when she noticed him looking, changing the pace, addicted to the feeling of her hands. He could feel the bones and the hard muscle of her grip and, sure, that didn’t sound sexy, but it felt incredible, adding stimulation in that inescapable hold and paired with slickness, choking his cock slightly and he craved every second of it, thighs tense and hard, growling in his throat as he dug his head into the mattress, pulling the chain for all it was worth, lightheaded now, the leather cutting in, probably leaving a mark, locking eyes with mischievous orbs and an impish smirk, the sides of her collar also cutting into the sides of her neck, choking herself as she was choking him while jacking him off.

Black haze threatened the edges of his vision.

He was going to pass out or cum. Yoongi didn’t care which happened first.

“F… Fuck!”

Yoongi snapped his jaw shut and shot up her forearm and down his length, strained groan of her name leaking past his teeth, bolts of pleasure invading his nerves all the way up to his scalp, blossoming into an erotic haze. She snapped her head forward. Oxygen flooded his brain, his jaw going slack with a moan, his eyes rolling back, high so high his whole body shuddered, barely registering her movement, hearing the lewd slurps of her drinking up his cum.

Wet.

Hot.

“Shit!”

Her mouth enveloped his twitching length, burying it deep into her throat, slathering tongue and satisfied hiss, chain clinking against his stomach and hitting his trembling balls, twisting her head so the chain wouldn’t cause any damage to them as she began to suck, flashes of tongue flickering out of the edges of those plush lips, grazing his crotch and scrotum, pointedly staring at him with an arched eyebrow.

She bounced her hips when she noticed him looking, shaking her ass as she sucked his dick.

Yoongi grinned.

His vision was barely focusing, trying to recover from orgasm in the midst of the intoxicating pleasure of her soft and tight mouth, tongue rubbing under the head of his cock, causing it to jerk and swell in the back of her throat and then she thrust it all the way back in there, taking him impossibly deep, sinfully moaning around his cock, vibrating it with lust. He glanced at her hands, fingers spread out and joints locked, tendons flexed, pointed black fingernails clawing into the sheets.

The heat flaring over his abdomen and hips was rising to his limit once more.

Yoongi panted her name, hoarse and breathless, realizing his Daegu satoori was suddenly more prominent in his disheveled state.

“I’m gonna cum–”

She popped her mouth off his cock and he snapped his teeth, snarling.

“You bitch.”

She grinned, wiggling her tongue, thick plops of saliva dripping down and hitting his flinching hips and throbbing cock, the head an angry purple-red from being so roughly stimulated after orgasm. The white contact gleamed alongside the devious glint in her right eye, black pupils blown out, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, and a lot sexy.

It didn’t matter who was on top because she knew she was always on top.

To be clear, Yoongi didn’t take shit from anyone without a fight. It got him in trouble sometimes, but this particular brand was trouble was the kind he liked. She gave him a long period of two seconds to roll the condom down before tangling one hand in the metal chain and the other in his black hair, pulling both in opposite directions. He hissed dangerously, plunging his hard cock into the wet, waiting heat, scorched by her roughness and his desire, one of her legs on his shoulder and the other around his waist, smacking their bodies together with violent force.

The tip of her tongue traced her teeth, grinning demonically.

“Come on, you said you were gonna play the game with me, Yoongi,” she chuckled, naughtily mocking him, voice deep and rough from her satoori.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” he growled in kind, low and gravelly.

She pulled on the collar much harder than his hair, but both were equally arousing, prickling pain on his scalp and circulation cut short once again, brief flashes of oxygen bleeding through with his aggressive thrusts, the excess chain knocking against her collarbones, just another layer of sound along with slapping hips and squelching juices, her velvet walls clenching around him with every descent, not going fast so he could last, burying deep and hitting her hard. She winced, guttural growl at the base of her throat and the side of his lips quirked up.

“Too much?” he taunted.

“I’ll tell you when it’s too much,” she grunted, jerking her hips up and brutally squeezing the head deep inside.

“Fuck…”

He knew she wouldn’t let him do anything she didn’t want, so he kept going, her wrist flicking up with every thrust, leather collar snapping into his skin, thinning his breath to gasps at the stinging pain, the hand in his hair releasing him, messy black strands invading his vision, but he had no time to complain, groaning as her nails dug into his back and dragged up, inflamed hot lines that shot into his system and fed his adrenaline. His fists bunched the sheets, locking his shoulders, clenching his jaw, flexing his neck, and now he was being choked again, consistently this time, oxygen thinning out once more, barely able to keep his eyes open.

Her smile sent thrills up his spine and they split at the base of his head, tendrils of vicious desire numbing all sensations except lust, gluttonous for the pain that nourished more pleasure, greedy for everything she forced him to take, too prideful to ask her to loosen her hold, desperate not to give in to her wrath, usually slothful but now using every fiber of his strength to push himself to the limit, high getting higher knowing that anyone would be envious of how good he got it from that fiendish playful grin and hot delicious body under him, collared together in joined sin.

She let out a low moan, basking in him, feeding his need to satisfy hers.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Yoongi.”

He managed to get out half of a breath, staring into those irises, one real, one covered in white.

“Fuck, your voice gets me off every time,” he hissed.

He slammed his hips down and she clamped around his entire length, releasing the chain, both of their heads tipping back, his in the air and hers into the pillows, moans in unison as he shot into the condom and she released onto his twitching length and skin, coating him with slickness. The scent of sex permeated the air, his previous orgasm soaked into the sheets already and hers smearing with it as their hips descended, his throbbing cock pulsed by her flinching walls, her thighs tense around his waist and his hard ones against her ass, making sure to lean forward so he didn’t fall out, savoring every second of their joined bodies.

The hotel room was certainly getting some important use.

Yoongi remembered he had been annoyed when she said he should rent one since the potential gig was rather far away and transportation so late at night was going to be a bitch. He almost didn’t do it, but she rolled her eyes and booked it anyway, triumphant when he sold out the venue. Not a huge venue, but bigger than he had ever performed before.

He still said she had to make it up to him for making him travel farther than he originally wanted.

As usual, Yoongi was not disappointed.

“Housekeeping is gonna be pissed,” she chuckled. “Smells like sex.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

“How’s your throat?”

“Pretty sure rapping strains the inside of my throat, not the outside.”

She chuckled. “Now you hurt all over.”

“Good.”

Yoongi closed the distance and kissed that smirk, metal chain sandwiched between their hot, sweaty skin, the steel rings of the black leather collars clinking against each other.

--

masterpost

-

the lyrics in the beginning are from hot demon b!tches near u!! by CORPSE ft night lovell

[agapaic]

[19 days] whiplash [ch. 365 after-shot]

The shop will be closing soon. He’s seen an attendant wandering around, who will probably ask him to leave in the next five minutes. There’s no one else here. His clothes are vivid against the neon glow of the tanks. The fish cast strange shadows on his shirt, living out a second life on his skin.

They swim in half-circles before sharply changing direction, never touching the glass. He wonders if they know it’s there, as if they can sense some immovable wall that holds them back.

He’s not getting deep about this. He could contemplate, quite extensively, about how their freedom must be bought by some higher power, and they would really only go from one tank to the next, slightly bigger, slightly richer. It’s all fake shit, and he remembers that in some ways he’s got it better than an animal. He can, at least, run away. Maybe he won’t get far. Just to the edges of the city villages where he’ll get a job earning less than before and lose his place in school.

Guan Shan puts a finger on the glass in front of him. There’s a label in the corner, peeling away from the glass. Veiltail goldfish. They have wispy, membrane-like tails. He could put his hand on the other side and see all the way through. Guan Shan watches the only black fish in the tank move placidly through the water.

Beneath the label, a smaller one: Black moor. For a minute he considers tugging the label off and putting it in his pocket, a little secret. He remembers that would be stealing, in some way, and someone in the shop would have to go to the effort of printing and laminating and reapplying the label just for one fish.

Guan Shan turns away.

He wanders for a few more minutes. He’s aware of his reflection in the glass. He worries about how long the attendant will let him stay there, and the thought that they will make him leave makes him feel slightly sick. He likes it here—the quiet, the muted hum of the tanks, the strange lights. They make him feel somewhere else.

His mother is working the night shift and won’t be home until just before he’s meant to go to school the next morning. They’ll have long enough together that he could tell her he got fired from the shop, but not long enough that he could reasonably pretend to have forgotten as he tugs on his uniform and slips out the front door.

She won’t be mad—she never is.

She can’t take on another shift.

Mentally, he has started taking stock. His Xbox is a few years old, but he’ll get something for it. He has a stack of old music magazines from his dad that could catch the eye of a collector. His computer, maybe.

The earrings.

His stomach twists.

Really, it’s not much. It’ll earn them a month, which could be just long enough for him to get another job, but what’s the likelihood of that in a city where most kids are just trying to bulk their CV’s for their college applications. Besides, his grades speak for themselves. He got lucky with the shop, and lightning doesn’t strike twice.

‘Hey, kid. We’re closing soon, so unless you wanna buy something…’

Guan Shan nods. His shoulders round.

For no logical reason, he says: ‘Can I take a goldfish?’

‘Sure. The black moor? Saw you had your eye on that one.’

‘No, one of the others.’

The attendant comes up next to him. ‘Just the one? They don’t like being on their own, you know.’

He presses his jaw tightly. A small sound comes out of him. He looks at the price tag and is somehow shocked and saddened to see the figure so low.

‘Fine,’ he says. ‘The black one, too, I guess.’

He pays, then leaves. It’s late enough that the streets are quieter than he expected. He’s usually home by now, his shift over, reheating leftovers while he works on his homework. He stands there while the shop attendant locks up behind him, holding the plastic bag with two fish in his hand. He feels stupid. Behind his eyes, he can feel a sort of stinging sensation.

He has the unnameable urge to grab one of the passing strangers and tell them how he’s feeling, what has happened, what could happen. On some level he knows that everyone has their own problems, and he’s not the type of person to overstep his bounds. Instead, he watches them pass, and after a few more minutes he goes to the nearest subway station and gets the train home.

/

He had half expected He Tian to find him on the street. He’d imagined it, He Tian catching his arm as he wandered from store to store, deliberating at large windows with thin mannequins and expensive jewellery without price tags. There is a part of him that’s disappointed that it didn’t play out like this, a part of him that is even angrier to find He Tian sitting in the stairwell of his apartment when he eventually does get home.

It’s close to midnight, and the stairwell is clinically quiet. Outside, the stars are dusty and covered in a thin layer of smog that is less noticeable in the day. He Tian looks exhausted. He’s the type of good looking where even the slightest imperfection somehow makes him even more attractive. Guan Shan hates it.

He stands when Guan Shan walks in, suddenly filling the space, and Guan Shan says, ‘Get outta my way.’

‘Where have you been?’

Guan Shan shoulders past him. There’s a moment where he thinks He Tian will grab him around the shoulders, the air around him simmering enough that Guan Shan is convinced it’s a near thing, choking with danger, but he lets him pass. He follows Guan Shan up the staircase, his footsteps silent, his body casting long shadows on the steps where Guan Shan sets his feet.

At the door, Guan Shan pockets the notice that’s taped there, knowing He Tian has already seen it. Less sharply, he picks up the notes in He Tian’s and Jian Yi’s writing and folds them into careful squares.

‘You’re not comin’ in,’ he says.

‘I called you, like, fifty times. Did you block me?’

Guan Shan thinks He Tian sounds angrier than he really has a right to be. He turns and presses his back to the door. He has his keys clenched tightly in a closed fist.

‘Yeah. I didn’t want to talk to you. I thought you would’ve gotten that.’

‘I can get you another job. Something better paid.’

‘You’re so fuckin’ clueless.’

He Tian’s eyes tighten.

‘You’re ruining my life,’ says Guan Shan.

‘That’s—that isn’t true. I’ve helped you. You would’ve been expelled if—’

‘Maybe I would’ve gotten expelled. But I wouldn’t have had She Li on my dick all the time, would I? Wouldn’t need you to get me a job ‘cause you made me lose my last one, would I? You’re just—stickin’ a bandage on shit when you hurt me first.’

‘It’s not always like that. Don’t make it sound like it’s always like that.’

Guan Shan shakes his head. ‘I want you to go. I told you I didn’t want to see you again. Fuck off.’

He Tian says, ‘Let me pay what was on the door.’

‘Fuck off.’

He Tian doesn’t move and Guan Shan squeezes his eyes shut. He’s going to cry again, the frustration bubbling sourly in the back of his throat. He doesn’t trust himself to open the door while He Tian is still here because he knows he’ll probably let him in.

‘Do I really make you feel like a failure?’

Guan Shan rubs at his eyes with his fist. His voice comes hoarse and thick: ‘I am a failure. Bein’ around you just makes it so much more fuckin’ obvious.’

He doesn’t want He Tian’s pity when he says this, or his reassurance. He’s just being honest. Saying it out loud is kind of breathlessly relieving. He couldn’t say something like that to his mother, or any of the teachers at school. He couldn’t say it to Grey, who he’s known for years. He Tian knows more about him than anyone. It’s a terrifying thought.

If they never see each other again, will He Tian tell everyone the things Guan Shan has told him? About the restaurant and his dad, or about She Li and the things Guan Shan has let him do to him? He feels vulnerable and sick thinking about it, completely powerless, as he does a lot of the time when he’s around He Tian.

He oscillates between that feeling of uselessness and the feeling of being so empowered that he thinks it must be what being high or drunk feels like. That latter has him trusting his own convictions, having an unadulterated faith in himself like jumping from a bridge and thinking he might just fly—so long as He Tian is with him. He doesn’t like how it’s one or the other, empowered or powerless, and rarely anything in between. He’s heard adults on TV talking about being codependent, pulled punishingly into each other's orbit, and he wonders if this is the same thing.

In the end he supposes it doesn’t really matter. So what if He Tian tells everyone? Probably, he won’t see the rest of the year out at school. He’ll get a job on a different side of the city and no one will hear from him ever again. The embarrassment will all be internal and will only last a week or two. Then life will move on. He wishes he were older and wiser and better at believing this. He wishes it didn’t feel like the universe might fall out from beneath him.

‘Doesn’t matter what I do, it turns to shit,’ he tells He Tian. ‘No matter how hard I work, I’m never gonna earn enough. I can spend three hours studyin’ for a test and still come last. If it isn’t She Li, then it’ll be someone else. I just—I can’t catch a fuckin’ break, He Tian. But you do somethin’ and you come first every time. Life’s so easy for you.’

He Tian shifts from side to side. ‘Do you think things wouldn’t feel so hard if you stopped focussing on what you think my life is like?’

‘You’re pissin’ me off.’

‘I don’t know how I’m meant to help you. You won’t let me give you money. It’s like pulling teeth from you just trying to know what’s going on with you. What are you so fucking afraid of?’

‘I never asked for your help.’

‘You shouldn’t have to—that’s why we’re friends.’

‘I never said I wanted to be your friend.’

He Tian frowns, his look very serious. He isn’t teasing tonight. Neither is Guan Shan. There is the sense that their interactions are always anything but teasing, really, some dark undercurrent that runs between the two of them like dark veins.

He Tian says, ‘Are those fish?’

For a moment Guan Shan thinks he’s joking, deflecting wildly to distract from the seriousness of what Guan Shan has just said. Then he feels the crinkle of a plastic bag in his hand and, remembering how he’d just spent the last few hours, nearly drops the two goldfish onto the floor.

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘You don’t have a tank.’

‘Yeah, no. I don’t know why I bought them.’

He Tian hesitates. There is a curious, predictable gleam in his eyes. ‘Red and black?’

‘It’s all they had left at the store.’

He Tian is looking intently at the bag. ‘Do you remember when we went to the aquarium? And you said I wasn’t someone you could forget?’

‘I just meant that—’

‘I know what you meant. But I always pretend like you meant it the other way.’

Guan Shan thinks, Don’t you think things would be easier if you stopped focusing on what you want me to mean and what I actually mean?

Instead of saying anything, he looks down at his sneakers. They’re scuffed and starting to rip at the seams. The thought of having to buy new ones makes him panic and the thought of buying a pair of second-hand ones online makes him panic even more. There’s no shame in it, but the thought of wearing someone else’s clothes makes him feel strange, especially when he knows He Tian could buy fifty pairs without blinking.

Guan Shan considers that thought and replays what He Tian has just said about focusing on his life too much more than his own. Maybe part of that is true.

Before He Tian, did he always feel things so intensely? Did the bad always feel so fucking awful? He knows that things were mechanical, and he was mean and didn’t think much about other people in particularly nice ways. He knows he didn’t laugh much then, or have dinners and sleepovers with friends. He knows everything hurt on a distant, muted level that was easy to ignore. Not much time has passed since then, and he reasons that nothing about him has probably changed, just everything else around him.

‘I can’t understand why you won’t let me help you,’ says He Tian, when the silence has stretched too long.

‘Because I’ll get used to it.’

He Tian frowns, not understanding.

‘One day, you’re not gonna be around. And I’ll be fucked.’

‘I’ll always be there for you.’

‘You don’t know that. People say that a lot and then they disappear or get taken away, even if they didn’t want to.’

It’s obvious they’re talking about his dad, but it feels safer to talk about things in vague, subjective conversation. Maybe things would be easier if they talked openly about things and didn’t use metaphors and hypotheticals. As it is, Guan Shan doesn’t feel ready to try the alternative. He is conscious of the fact that this feels like a conversation. They are passing words back and forth that hold meaning and neither of them has touched the other yet. It feels new and fragile as an oil painting, still wet, and so he doesn’t let himself think about this for long.

‘I think you’re getting this wrong,’ says He Tian. ‘I’m not asking you to rely on me. Obviously, I’d kind of like that. I like the thought of you needing me, and I know that says something about me. But—I’m just asking you to let me help you. Just here and there, no strings.’

Guan Shan rubs his forehead with the back of his knuckles. His keys are starting to pinch his skin and he can feel a headache starting to surface.

‘I’m tired,’ he says. ‘I actually do want you to go.’

He Tian’s jaw clenches and he breathes out heavily through his nose. He’s probably thinking he’s wasted his time.

‘Okay,’ he says then. ‘But we’re not done.’

A new wave of exhaustion comes over Guan Shan, crippling and final. He wants to get into bed with his skin against cold sheets and sleep for twelve hours without waking once.

‘You’re not the only one that ever gets to decide that,’ he tells He Tian, a little sharply. ‘You’ve gotta learn to let people go.’

‘But what if I know I can help them?’ says He Tian. ‘If I don’t, I’ve just—failed.’

They look at each other.

A minute stretches into an eternity that could be seconds or hours, and everything has gone backwards. Everything is the same.

Guan Shan can’t put his finger on what has just happened, but he feels like laughing. Their fears are twinned, self-perpetuating, some kind of ouroboros chasing its tail. Who will get caught first?

They both seem to take in a breath at the same time, and He Tian takes a step back.

‘Goodnight,’ he says.

Guan Shan nods. He waits for He Tian’s retreating back to disappear a few flights down before opening the door to his apartment, and shuts it swiftly behind him.

/

There’s a knock at the door while he’s brushing his teeth. The fish are swimming placidly in their bag on the edge of the bathroom sink. It’s past one, and he keeps all the lights off because his eyes are feeling sore. He’s adjusted to the dim glow that comes from street lamps seeping through the curtains, the blink of the timer on the electric stove, his Xbox gleaming in his bedroom. His mother shouldn’t be home yet and she has her own set of keys.

With a sinking heart, Guan Shan pictures his landlord demanding payment.

Worse, he pictures He Tian. Before He Tian left, they’d resolved nothing. It feels like being back to square one, chasing each other around a chess board. It fills him with a vast emptiness that makes him feel like he’s existing outside of himself, waiting for someone else to take over.

He pads silently towards the front door, his toothbrush jammed into his cheek, and peers through the viewer. There’s toothpaste dripping down his chin. In the hall, there’s no one there. He’s half-convinced he imagined it. He counts to ten before he opens the door, steps out—and his foot connects with something hard. There is a cardboard box sitting on the welcome mat.

Guan Shan peers around. The light in the stairwell is artificially bright. He kneels down and opens the tabs on the box, which hasn’t been taped. He swallows.

For the fish, says the note on the second box, nestled inside the first. Careful, it’s fragile.

Guan Shan rubs the heel of a palm into his right eye. He sighs. Then he reaches out, braces himself, and picks up the tank. He carries it into his apartment, and the door locks behind him.

/

thank you for reading! if you’d like to support me on my ko-fi/request a short drabble, you can do so here: https://ko-fi.com/agapaic 💞

[oogaboogaspookyman]

Aliza: so uhhh... Can i help you?

MEMORY: no, but maybe i can help you.

Aliza: uhhh... I-i need an adult...

MEMORY: i am an adult.

*ALIZA IS GIVEN THE FUCKING KNEE*

MEMORY: by the way i only hit you because i have pent up anger towards your father. Take that.

✨Random Quotes From The Fam✨

Now with Dragon Ball Abridged and an alternate universe where MEMORY lived and they did end up rivals!

Mewtwo: IS THAT ME?! *He's pointing at MEMORY*

Mewtwo: IS THAT ME STRONGER THAN ME?!?!

MEMORY: lol mad.

Mewtwo: I'LL FUCKING KILL ME!!

.

Mewtwo, on the ground, beat up by MEMORY: huh... This is a new feeling, pride in someone else...

Mewtwo: unfortunately it's overshadowed by all this UNYIELDING RAGE!!

.

MEMORY: what are you doing?!

Aliza: what am i doing?

MEMORY: thwartin' mah plans?

Aliza: thwartin' your plans?

MEMORY: ARE YOU???

Aliza:

Aliza: yes.

MEMORY:

MEMORY: I'M GONNA STRAIGHT UP KILL YOU.

.

[mewtwo is up against some weird guys that look quite familiar... Maybe you've seen them on a wednesday?]

Mewtwo: please, just send them away from us, murder them, fuckin'... Anything!

Mewtwo, reading the script: "why am i ranting, i don't know, i should've ended this a long time ago"... Fuck that rhymed!

.

[Adam is playing Vs. Stickman, a mod of JZBoy, he's up against Daisy]

*he loses the first attempt*

Adam: ...

Adam: okay wait a minute, wait a minute!

Adam: can we talk about this? Like-

Adam: seriously, how did she go from nice to killer?!

Adam: like- look, first she was all like "a e a e a e" all nice and sweet and shit, then the next second she's like- *he jumps into a fighting pose*

Adam: "EY, LET'S FUCKING GO, MOTHERFUCKING BEAT YOUR ASS-" like what the fuck is that about?!

.

[IN THE FUTURE...]

MEMORY: YES!

*Celeste, Mary, Crypt and Newtwo are all surrounded by black-eyes that are cheering on A BUSTER*

MEMORY: KILL!!

Buster black-eyes:

Buster black-eyes: *slam, The Bad Ending*

MEMORY: >:D

.

Adam: unlock the door, MEMORY!

MEMORY, canonically afraid of Adam: NO!

Adam: YOU LOCKED THE DOOR, MEMORY?

*REST IN PEPPERONI DOOR*

Adam, holding a bat: YOU LOCKED THE DOOR, MEMORY?!

MEMORY: A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

.

Celeste: sweetie...

Aliza: :<?

Celeste: give mommy the knife...

Aliza, actually holding a knife: :<??

Celeste: s-sweetie...

Aliza, still holding a knife: *confused bab*

Celeste: g-give mommy the knife, please...

.

Adam: reblog if you think [EXPLICIT] are cool.

Mewtwo, acting for fun: you mean this? *Pic of birds*

Adam: no like [EXPLICIT]

Newtwo: *pic of birds again*

Adam: no like- like hooters.

Mew: *pic of owls*

.

[Adam invited Mary to one of his vids, this is from "World's Scariest Tiktoks?"]

[they're watching a vid of mannequins]

Adam: oh god, i hate- i hate fuckin' mannequins.

Mary: ... You hate fucking mannequins..?

Adam: yeah i really do-

Mary: when this start..?

Adam: wha- n-no i-i don't mean that- *he's cracking up*

Mary: what did you mean then, Adam? What did you mean then?

*Adam is still laughing*

Adam: i just hate mannequins, i don't fuck them!

Mary: oh-

.

(@esmam1ss2n9shu773r thank you so much for this one XD)

Mary: i can do it on @/badassgirlfromthefics and you can do it on some-random-artblog so it can be a side bolt kind thing

Mary: blog kinds

Mary: linda

Mary: kinf

Mary: kinfd

Mary: kinds

Mary: kinda

Mary: FUCKIN LINDA

Mary: CRAWLINBITCHINTHEFUKINVEEENT

.

MEMORY: Aliza... That little brat, but how did she..?

MEMORY: wait... That watch... That wasn't a watch..!

MEMORY: it was some kind of... Locator..!

MEMORY: which means... Which means...

CL4RA: she took the virus B)

MEMORY:

MEMORY: *SCREAMING SO LOUD IT TRANSCENDS TIME AND SPACE*

Celeste: do you hear that??

Mewtwo: i FEEL that!

*screaming continues, it reaches the distortion world*

Giratina: what the devil is that???

*screaming continues, it reaches The Dead Wishman Island*

Jason Lavender: what is that? Oh Arceus damn it is that my wife? ANNE YOU ALREADY TOOK OUR DAUGHTER, WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!?!

*screaming continues, it reaches the future where a disabled celebi is trying to go to the past to stop the apocalypse*

Celebi: finally, once the time machine is built i'll finally be able to go to the past and stop this apocaly-...

Celebi: Dialga???

[the-friendliest-freak]

Fuckin hate the fact I can barely remember my dreams. Last night I had one that I remember bein really neat and weird but I only remember The Narrator mentioning something about working at a meth lab (probably from all of the Breaking Bad memes going around).

And then he…realised something, and started fucking crying. And apologising for something, but I don’t know what. Apparently he messed something up, something to do with the game.

He messed something up in the beginning - maybe there was a mention of either the demo or the TSP 2 showcase - I don’t remember.

Once he’d calmed down he tried telling a story, but I don’t think it went well. There were mannequins all dressed up and he treated them like characters.

[venusvity]

ꕤ     IN A GLANCE  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀   ––––   [   7:50 PM @ ANGELICO STYLING CLOSET   ]

“i hate them all,” yoonah says quietly, putting her thumb in her mouth, biting her nail gently as she looks over the outfits jinhwa presents to her on the mannequins in front of her. her rejection makes him sigh through his nose before pinching his nose bridge.

“we’ve gone through four different looks–”

“and they’re all whoreish,” yoonah interrupts, voice high with stress, sighing loudly as she rubs her temples. jinhwa knows yoonah is dramatic, it usually doesn’t get on his nerves because though dramatic, she’s obedient but not anymore it seems. it’s irritating to say the least. he sighs as she walks over to the other mannequins dressed in elegant and pretty gowns she wishes were her’s, pointing to them.

“who is this for?” yoonah asks, turning towards her boss, “i want something like this.”

jinhwa pauses, contemplating lying about who the dresses belonged to just to avoid the show he knows she’s going to put on and the guilt he knows will result from it.

“they’re for chloe,” he tells her calmly, hoping his calm tone will keep her calm.

it doesn’t. she looks like he just slapped her across the face. she looks at chloe’s gowns again, frowning deeply before looking back at jinhwa, devastated.

“why can’t i have them?” she whispers, round eyes rimming with tears. jinhwa sighs, looking at the ground, feeling the guilt he dreaded he would feel from this. yoonah’s really good at making people feel bad when she wants them to––jinhwa should be used to this by now but it still leaves an ache in his chest.

“yoonah,” jinhwa starts with a sigh, putting his hands on her shoulders. yoonah immediately shoves at his chest, a sob tumblring from her lips as she does so. jinhwa doesn’t move much, just lets out a huff in annoyance. she’s smaller than him, her hands not offering much damage. he knows how she is and how she’s been with other men. this is just how she is. when she’s upset, she lashes out.

she hits his chest again, shoving him harder this time, sending a dull thud echoing throughout the room when her hands collide with his chest. he can see tears fall down her cheeks as she takes a shaky breath, hitting hum once again but this time he grabs her wrists to stop her. she doesn’t struggle like he expects her to, stepping closer to him to where their noses are touching, looking into his eyes with her wet ones.

for a second, jinhwa is intimidated.

“why? say it!” yoonah shouts at him, trying to tug herself free from his grasps but not fully trying. she doesn’t want to be free, she wants to be this close, right his his face so he can see how distraught she is over this. she wants jinhwa to see the dark circles under her eyes, every tear, how every lash sticks together because of her crying. he needs to see it. she wants him to feel it.

“say it–”

“that’s enough, yoonah.”

“you think i’m a slut,” yoonah hisses lowly, almost a whisper.  “so you dress me like one. say it, you fuckin’ coward. say it.”

jinhwa doesn’t say anything just stares at her eyes. it only eggs yoonah on, raising her brows with a cold smirk on her lips.

“you think i’m stupid? that i don’t see how you look at me?” she whispers, pressing herself closer like a predator to her pray, pushing against his hold to take jinhwa’s face into her hands. he doesn’t pull away from her, just watches her closely, making laugh quietly, resting her forehead against the man’s. 

“you’re just like the rest of them. all of you are the same. so easy,” those low words send a chill through jinhwa he can’t comprehend before yoonah shoves him away with a force she’s been hold back. he finally lets go of her, looking away for just a second to compose himself as he takes a step away from her. when he looks back, her expression has changed into a cold and hard one.

“i’m not doing it.”

“excuse me?” jinhwa asks, brows raising as she tilts her head at him, raising her brows.

“i’m not performing that song. i’m not going on stage half dressed. i’m not doing any of it,” yoonah tells him sternly. she watches jinhwa’s brows knit together, shocked at her defiance. she steps back to get more distance between them.

“you’re under con–”

“what are you going to do? are you going to make me, jinhwa?” yoonah presses, raising her brows at him. her word choice is deliberate, he knows it is by the way she smirks again, laughing through her nose. jinhwa shakes his head, taking a deep breath and sighing, his eyes stare at the mannequins.

“no,” jinhwa finally answers, “i’m not going to make you do anything, yoonah.” he says in a quiet almost fembel voice she’s never heard from the man before.

she can’t help but to let a smile push through her features, her full shiny cheeks lifting up.

“thank you.”

[topperscumslut]

So it just kinda hit me the other day that the Five Hargreeves im shifting for is SO DIFFERENT than canon Five

I may end up making another TUA DR just so i can meet “canon Five” although i wouldn’t feel comfortable having more than just a platonic relationship with him, yk?

It’s not that I changed his personality on purpose, I love him the way he is, but i did change a couple things about him in my script that will definitely affect the way he acts

1. His age - since Five is my love interest in my TUA DR but he’s mentally 58 and physically 13 in the series, I scripted that he’s both mentally and physically 19 since I’m 19 and Aidan Gallagher, who plays him, will be too in like a week and a half. Sure his personality will probably be very similar to the show, but he’ll actually act like a teenager instead of an old man

2. His past - I essentially scripted out the plot of the show cuz i don’t want to have to deal with saving the world lol, i literally just wanna vibe with the Hargreeves siblings. Another Five shifter i saw on tiktok scripted he was only in the apocalypse for a day (or at least, a day to him but 17 years to his siblings) as a way to make him, yk, not mentally 58. So without all the trauma he’s been thru in the apocalypse, with the Commission, and thru all three seasons of the show, he could be very different. I scripted out a lot of the siblings’ trauma cuz i feel bad for them lol but especially Five since i also scripted his out so im not dating an old man. I also don’t wanna deal with being jealous of a fuckin mannequin lmao

3. His current circumstance - I think part of why Five acts like such a snarky asshole (not hating, i love that about him) is how fuckin stressed he is man. I scripted that the apocalypse is avoided and doesn’t end up happening so he isn’t really “under the gun” as he puts it, we got to see a little bit of this in s3 and i think I’ll be seeing a lot more in my DR

anyway i think im gonna be shifting for a lot more lighthearted, “soft Five” with a bit more of Aidan in him and idk how to feel about it. like it’s adorable and i love him and can’t wait to meet him but like… i love that little dickhead. idk. actual teenager Five is probably gonna take some getting used to lol. I’m sure he’ll still be very similar to the series cuz that is who he is a person but a lot more… mellow idk

also we got SOLID confirmation in s3 with the Delores scene that Five is a whole simp bro and i cannot wait for that Sweet!Five has my heart now idc

[muertawrites]

omg yes!! now that you said that chrissy needed to be white and skinny and ‘perfect’ to make people feel sad for her i can totally see it. I mean look at how the fans are treating for argyle and the actor who plays him. if chrissy was fat or not white then she would not have as many fans or as many people shipping her with eddie. and honestly, I feel like none of her fans or edissy shippers can see that bc they’re so stuck with their heads up their asses wanting to be the perfect cheerleader for eddie 🙄

ok WAIT i was gonna be real mad if people were being mean to eduardo franco but i just did an investigative google and HE'S FROM MY HOMETOWN??? YUMA AZ????? WHERE I GREW UP??? AND WE'RE LIKE........... THE SAME AGE???????? I COULD HAVE GONE TO SCHOOL WITH HIM AND NOT EVEN KNOWN?????????? WE PROBABLY EVEN HAVE MUTUAL FRIENDS??????

SO YEAH IF ANY OF Y'ALL BITCHES ARE BEING RUDE TO MY MAN EDUARDO. WE'RE GONNA HAVE SOME FUCKIN PROBLEMS. I'M FROM THE BARRIO ESE WE DO NOT FUCK AROUND.

also argyle as a character is so precious. like. the only way anyone could hate him is if they were racist and uncool.

and no. chrissy would not be the character she is to this fandom if she had been anything other than baseline basic pretty blonde blue-eyed. she's essentially bella in twilight - a mannequin that girls with no personality and who have never experienced cruelty can slap their own faces onto.