#i have lot of thoughts and feelings and had to ramble

[traumasurvivors]

hello, do you have resources on recognizing whether or not you're in an abusive/toxic friendship?

I don't, but here's some red flag thoughts I had.

If you try and talk about something they've done that upset you/bothered you, and they turn around and make you feel bad. This might be done by them going "oh, I'm such a terrible person. You shouldn't be friends with me."

They only talk to you or initiate contact if they want something from you.

They "jokingly" say mean things about you.

They compare you to other people. It might be things like "oh, well, so-and-so would do this for me."

They make you feel guilty for having boundaries.

If you're having a bad time, they need to be having a worse time. Nothing can be about you, and the attention always has to be drawn back to them.

They make you feel bad about your interests. "Oh, damn, I guess not everyone has good taste in music.

Constant negativity. They are constantly "raining" on your parade if you're happy about something. Example: You are super happy because you had a great time with your dad. You rave to them about this, and their response is "wow, it must be nice. My dad and I have a terrible relationship." While their feelings are valid, it's really inappropriate if they feel a constant need to bring you down whenever you're happy.

You can't rely on them for support. While it's valid for people to have limits and not be able to provide support all the time because of their own mental health, it isn't okay if a relationship is one-sided and you offer support and they never do.

When you have arguments, they got for "low blows" rather than trying to resolve the conflict. This might mean they scream at you, or throw insults at you, or throw past mistakes in your face.

No one is perfect, and it's understandable that people slip up sometimes and make mistakes. Lash out even. But they should hold themselves accountable for these mistakes, and not make you feel bad for being upset. They also shouldn't laugh off or be dismissive of their own behaviour.

Being passive aggressive.

They pressure you into doing things you don't want to do.

A lot of this falls under manipulation, and I wrote an article about it here.

I want to bring up that nuance is really important. For example: my best friend and I regularly "roast" each other and genuinely find it amusing. But there are certain topics that are off limits, and we'd never do this if it genuinely upset the other.

Obviously, again nuance is important. Sometimes these bad feelings come up for our own reasons and aren't necessarily the other person's fault, but here are some thoughts I had on things you might be feeling if a friendship isn't right for you.

You feel relieved if plans are cancelled.

You feel a feeling of dread when you see a message from them.

You are anxious to tell them things like really good news because they might make you feel bad about it. Or even really bad news, because they might try and compete with you.

You are anxious to tell them if they cross a boundary or upset you.

You withhold telling them the real truth about things. You might be worried they can't be trusted with the information, or that they might use it against you.

You feel trapped or like you have to be their friend.

You feel completely drained by them. Maybe it's hearing their name, seeing their name, or just being around them.

Sorry, I rambled, but hopefully there's something helpful here!

[act-nat-ural]

Gifts (And Feelings) Exchanged

When the Karasuno boys’ volleyball team decided to organize a Secret Santa, you were initially excited. You love the players and your fellow managers, and you were looking forward to picking something out for them. That was, until you picked Tsukishima’s name out of the hat.

You gulp and give a nervous smile before walking back and sitting down next to Yachi. She gives you a sheepish smile.

“Do you already have an idea of what you’re going to get him?” she asks.

You groan internally. “Zero clue.”

She raises her brows in surprise. “Really? I would’ve thought otherwise, considering you’ve been on the team longer than me. N-Not that I meant that in a bad way!” She starts to apologize, but you cut her off.

“It’s okay—it’s just…” You groan. “I don’t even know what he likes.” She hums thoughtfully. “Wanna see who I got?”

“You don’t have to show me—” she starts, but you hand over the slip of paper.

She lets out a quiet “Ohhh.”

“Yeah, I see the dilemma.”

You and Kei had a… certain relationship, to say the least. You provide him with minor feedback; he calls you rude names. It’s all very pleasant. The worst part of it all is, you love the banter. At first, you dreaded practice, but over time, you started looking forward to seeing his stupid, gorgeous face. You think Tadashi might be onto you, too, because last week, when he and Kei started to walk off, he turned and gave you a thumbs-up for some reason. Weird.

You sigh again and stare at Kei’s name on the paper. “What to get you?” you mutter.

Kei hated buying gifts for people. It felt much too personal—especially when it was for people he hardly knew. He could stomach buying a birthday present for his family or maybe Tadashi, but his teammates? No thanks. When he drew your name out of the cheaply made Santa hat, he frowned. He crumpled the paper and immediately walked back to sit next to Tadashi.

“Who’d you get, Tsukki?” Tadashi asked.

“That would defeat the whole purpose of the ‘secret’ in Secret Santa, Tadashi,” Kei replied snarkily.

As Tadashi starts rambling on about what he’s thinking of getting Hinata, Kei’s mind begins to drift—specifically, to his favorite manager. While he would rather die than admit it, he truly enjoyed the banter between the two of you. At first, you were a bit shy and didn’t want to talk back to him, but over time, you started giving him hell. And he loved every second of it.

“Tsukki? Are you thinking about—”

A quick smack shuts Tadashi up.

“Shush,” Kei mutters.

As the days go by, both you and Kei find yourselves with a bit of a problem. Trying to find the perfect gift for each other is harder than either of you expected, especially since you’re both determined not to go the predictable route. You’d die before giving him something as generic as a water bottle or some volleyball gear—Kei deserves something personal, even if he’d never admit to liking it.

Finally, after a lot of thought (and some input from Yachi and Tadashi), you settle on a gift: a small, framed photo of the team celebrating their last win, with Kei in the background, a hint of a smile on his face. You remember catching that rare moment and thinking how nice it would be to remind him of it. You also throw in a mini potted cactus, with a tiny note that says, “Even prickly plants can grow if you give them some light.” You can’t help but laugh at the idea, knowing he’ll probably roll his eyes at the cheesy note, but maybe… just maybe, he’ll like it.

Meanwhile, Kei is just as stuck. He considers a sarcastic, borderline rude gift but somehow can’t bring himself to go through with it. Instead, he finds himself at a music store, almost embarrassed as he searches for something you’d like. Finally, he picks out a simple pair of high-quality earbuds, with a note that says, “For when you need to block out annoying people.” He cringes at his own softness but tells himself it’s fine. It’s practical, he reasons. Nothing more.

The day of the Secret Santa gift exchange arrives, and you’re doing your best to act casual as you hand Kei his present. He takes it with an unreadable look on his face, his usual cool and indifferent expression firmly in place.

As he opens it, you see his lips twitch upward for just a second at the sight of the cactus and the note. But he quickly clears his throat, trying to play it off as uninteresting. “Very… thoughtful,” he says, not meeting your gaze. His eyes linger on the photo frame for a moment, and you’re almost sure he’s touched, even if he won’t say it.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, crossing your arms and looking away to hide your own embarrassment. “Don’t get too sentimental on me, Tsukishima.”

“Please. I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, though you both know he’s trying not to smile.

Then, it’s your turn. Kei hands you a small box, and you open it to find the earbuds. At first, you blink in surprise, then read his note and can’t help laughing. It’s such a Tsukishima thing to say, and somehow, that makes it all the more endearing.

“Thanks, Kei,” you say, softening a bit as you look up at him. “I’ll make sure to use them when you’re being especially irritating.”

He smirks. “That’s probably wise.”

There’s a beat of silence, and both of you look away, unsure of what to say next. Practice is wrapping up, and everyone else is getting ready to leave. You clear your throat and try to act nonchalant.

“So, uh… do you want to grab something to eat after this?” you ask, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I mean, since we’re… already here and all.”

Kei’s eyebrows raise, and for a split second, he looks genuinely surprised. But he quickly regains his composure, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Sure,” he says with a shrug. “I guess I could tolerate your company a little longer.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “How generous of you.”

As you both head out together, walking a little closer than usual, you feel a warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with the winter cold. You both can’t help but be happy with what your secret santa got you- somebody to be with.

note: i know it’s early november but i want it to be christmas already 😭

[joffyworld]

Hundred

So uhhhhhhh. Never thought I'd say this. But we hit 100 followers somehow and they're like 98% actual people!

Soooooooo, I just kinda wanna say I'm really glad you guys enjoy my enthusiasm for your arts and crafts. Every time I see an upload from anyone I follow my heart damn near explodes. I meant every word of my "A Celebration" post and I wish I could @ every single person I follow and find joy in every day, but that'd be around 300ish @'s and I don't wanna flood that on you poor people.

You're all amazing, some of you have even had some private conversations with me that I took A LOT of joy in that you even gave me the time. I haven't really made a thing of it, but behind the whole "Joffysona" I do struggle myself with mental health issues pretty severely at times, and that's part of why I spent so much time uplifting other people, that it makes people feel good about THEMSELVES makes ME feel good too. There's no greater joy than knowing I have made someone happier, and to have 100 people have found some kind of silly enjoyment from my inane ramblings? That's incredibly heart-warming.

I love you all, whether you follow me or not, I cherish every day we all exist on the same planet and I wish I could give you all insane amounts of money and hugs and wealth and time and the cures to everyone's problems, because you ALL deserve them!

You're all amazing, it's been a month and a bit of non-stop joy and it doesn't look like it's gonna slow down. Thanks for making me happy I guess?

Because seeing you happy? That makes me happier than anything

Love you guys,

Joffrey <3

[puckszone]

my musings on how to leave longer & more regular comments on fics:

We all know comments are good - readers have probably heard authors on tumblr talk about how valuable comments are for ages, and I hope most of the authors reading this have felt that validating joy first hand.

But we also all have lives, and only so much energy in a given day. Maybe you have worries about leaving a comment that's too "weird", or "awkward". Maybe you LOVE a fic, but have no idea how to put those strong emotions into words. Maybe you leave short comments, but wish you felt comfortable crafting the paragraph-long detailed comments that some readers gift to their favorite fics.

If you've ever thought about trying to comment more often, or trying to leave longer comments, then here are some ramblings of mine that will (hopefully!) bring comment-inspiration your way.

A quick table of contents:

Lower the mental stakes

How do I comment on porn?!?!?!?

My approach to paragraph-long commenting

My call to action: challenge yourself to go one step further

Lower the mental stakes:

When I first joined a writing discord, I was genuinely blown away at the amount of support and love the HRPF community contains. I was also blown away at the amount of people that were actually reading my works and messaging about them!! It is still one of the coolest feelings ever.

In my mind, this is an example of a "lower stakes" ways to talk about fics: messaging a friend, or a group chat, or a discord server.

It takes a lot less energy for me to type a rambling text about how much I love the fic I'm currently reading vs. typing a cohesive, well-thought out comment for the author themselves.

One of those two options is much more intimidating!

I want so badly to tell the author how much I love their fic, but I'll never find the time to write all the things they deserve to hear!! So the tab sits open on my phone for months, and the comment never gets written.

If you relate to this: try to lower the "mental stakes" of writing your comment. Remember: this is a fun thing!! Fic is fun!! And I promise, you don't have to write the "perfect" comment to make an author's day.

A potential solution: treat the comment box a bit more like a message to your group chat. Not in a rude way - let's stay polite to the writers in our community, and recognize when unsolicited feedback isn't wanted.

But instead of forcing yourself to always have the "perfect" comment, think of something lighter. Think of what you would text to a friend if you were going to send them a link to the fic: maybe "dude this fic is so funny you need to read it", OR "this is INSANELY good", OR "i've been reading this all morning you need to check it out right now".

Then write that!

Comment: "this fic is so funny oh my god. love it!"

Comment: "this is INSANELY good"

Comment: "SCREAMING. I LOVE THIS"

Comment: "i haven't been able to put this done all morning! sooooo good!"

Comment: "i read the first chapter of this fic and instantly knew i had to send it to all my friends. i love this so much!!!"

Also, this might just be personal preference but: a discord message can get lost to time. AO3 is an archive, and comments there are much easier to look back on!!

So send that discord message to the author in a server you're in - they're going to appreciate it so much!! But consider copy-pasting that as a comment in AO3 as well, no matter how short it might be. It means a lot!!

How do I comment on porn?!?!?!?

PWP fics are known to have a large number of hits, with less kudos and even less comments.

Listen. I get it.

Especially in a fandom like HRPF, where many fics are user-locked, it can be intimidating to comment with no chance to hide behind anonymity.

But remember this: anybody who might "see your username" has also clicked into that very same fic and gone alllllll the way to the end. We're all in this together!!! I promise!!

Maybe the actual logistics are difficult for you - how do I leave a comment on an 8k porn-no-plot fic?? how do I explain that I love this fic without making the author uncomfortable?? - so in that case, let me give a few brief ideas for you to work off of.

Some words I like to use a lot: dirty, nasty, HOTTTT, sexy, intimate, vivid.

If you're feeling especially blindsided by the Everything of it all: i like to throw in a good "stupidly hot". "my brain is melting out of my ears". "soooooo dirty nasty hot". "WHEWWWW this is making me feel insane".

Don't overthink it!!!! Speak your truth!!!

And, final point: don't be afraid to highlight specific favorite parts, like you would with any other fic! Say it with your chest! If you liked the frottage, then say "the thigh riding was sooooo stupidly hot". I promise, the author put it in because they also thought the same thing!!!! It's going to make their day (and maybe result in more fics with that same favorite part of yours).

My approach to paragraph-long commenting:

I just want to reiterate: there is no right or wrong way to write a comment. But here's the general breakdown of how I think about leaving more detailed comments, if you want some ideas.

I copy snippets from the fic that call out to me as I read

I go into my clipboard to paste them all into the comment box

I write 1-2 sentences about WHY i copied down that specific snippet

Sometimes, it might be hard to know exactly why you were so affected by a given line. Here's some things you might especially appreciate in a fic:

Characterization: maybe the dialogue felt especially realistic. maybe the character's decisions made a lot of sense to you. maybe the way two characters interact is just exactly how you picture it. write that down in one sentence!! done!

Prose/writing style: maybe the line was a really gorgeous metaphor, piece of dialogue, etc. copy and paste that shit into your comment + add some "!!!"s, or maybe a single sentence like "this is so so gorgeous" or "INSANE metaphor" or "beautiful prose i'm chewing on glass"

The plot: "I have no idea where this is going next, and I can't wait to find out" / "OH MY GOD THE CLIFFHANGER"

The emotions you felt while reading it: this one's an easy one I promise! "the way you wrote [CHARACTER]'s pain hurt sooooo good" / "this is making me feel ill" / "i actually gasped out loud on the bus" / "i'm so nervous for the next chapter" / "i'm SO excited by where this fic is going" / "i teared up reading this"

A long comment will come organically & very easily, even if you only have 2 copy-pasted snippets!! And the author gets to hear very specific feedback about exactly what you're enjoying - that's SO unbelievably rewarding to hear.

So, my personal call to action: challenge yourself to go one step further!

If you don't usually leave comments: try leaving one or two one-line comments this week. Throw in a quick "i love this!!" next to that kudos!

If you usually leave one-line comments: try leaving a couple sentences! describe one specific thing you liked about the fic, or one specific emotion you had.

If you often leave comments on the fics of people you know: try going outside your comfort zone and commenting on a stranger's fic. you got this!

Push yourself one step further, whatever that means for you! It's such a beautiful thing, to be able to read and love and discuss fic in a shared community, and it's worth the effort!

If you've read my ramblings the whole way through: thank you!!!! This was mainly an outlet for me to put all my thoughts into real words, and I sort of can't believe you read all the way through. <3

I welcome any and all additions to this post!!!! The more we talk about commenting, and the more we comment, the more this community grows - and that's a positive thing for all of us, readers and writers alike.

[girl-with-many-fandoms]

Potentially MAJOR Hazbin season 2 spoiler if this “leak” ends up not being a fake. I just need to get my thoughts and feelings out somewhere and maybe there are a few others out there that feel the same way I do about it.

I just saw on TikTok a supposed leaked song with line animation that, if true, reveals that Rosie owns Alastor’s soul.

It’s hard to tell what’s fake or not nowadays with so many super talented artists and people using AI generated voices to mimic the actual voice actors so I REALLY hope it’s just a convincing fake.

If this is true though, I will be absolutely DEVASTATED. I adore their friendship - and not just the fanon friendship and/or QPR that we as a fandom have created with HC’s - but also the canon friendship we saw in episode 7 of season 1.

Have you ever had something happen in a show that upset/disappointed you so much that you actually had to step away from the show for a while and process before you could continue to watch and enjoy it? That will be me if this is real.

Because the wording in the song, plus the rough animation accompanying it, really gives the impression that (1) They don’t like each other at all like we thought they did & (2) Rosie literally views Alastor as a pet to puppet and nothing more.

And a friend of mine said that even if it’s real they could still maybe be friends but I’m sorry, Alastor as a character just wouldn’t be friends with or even willingly friendly with someone who owns him and limits his powers to where he almost dies in a fight and has a mental breakdown about after said fight. So if this is a true leak, season 1 episode 7 was all fake friendship and that hurts my heart so much.

Also, aside from the fact that I’ll be heartbroken about this, it just doesn’t make sense to me from a plot standpoint. I know a lot of people don’t want it to be Lilith just because it seems obvious but Lilith or Roo at least make sense narratively.

I just don’t see how, story wise, Rosie owning him could make as much sense as other potential candidates for who he has a contract with.

Why would Rosie help the hotel by letting Charlie use her people to fight for the hotel and then turn around and handicap a powerful person that is also defending the hotel? Why make him disappear for 7 years, what did she possibly gain from that? As far as I can tell nothing really changed for her during his absence.

Anyways, I’m rambling. TL:DR if the “leaked” song and animation ends up being a real leak I will be devastated and very disappointed in Hazbin.

[lethalbreadkills]

i think the sprinkle mod should be related to sprunki just a thought

i saw them and i went "what if they were younger siblings...." insane ramblings and relationships underneath the cut. oops

OKAY SO. they have names. we named them. by we i mean me and @afuntimepartyy (hi mangy) in order of how they show up in the mod . all colours are used for ease of reading oops Sporen (he ate mushrooms as a child), Radical (well. duh. raddy sprinkle), Clink (head go clink clank), Fun Bot V.2 (v2 for short), Rinkle (i dont have an explanation), Grinkle (gray crinkly kitten), Sprunk (funny), Garnickle (like barnacle), Dipsy (i think its cute), Skip (again, cute), Miss Sun (shes the older sibling for once), Purdle (durple but switched), Mrs Tree (theyre married), Laa-Laa (yellow and sings cute), Tupper (well. like tupperware), Fun Computer (hes not old enough to be a mr. yet), Spinda (hehe), Punkii (it just Felt Right), Biv (i think its cute!), and HACK :]

As for the relationship chart. Well. Smiles. here it is ^-^!!

heh. smirks. Most are self explanatory, these are their younger siblings and they love each other!!

Garnold, quite honestly, is just a good 20 years older than his sibling, and WOW an age gap like that can cause issues with understanding each other. Garnold just doesn't understand the kid, and he's busy with his own (his and Clukr's creations) OWAKCX and Dipsy are complicated because. uh. i'll be honest i didn't read until recently that OWAKCX is like that because Raddy hit him with a hammer and went "ah. that man is an addict isn't he." and went with it ^o^ and it causes an odd relationship with family. they're trying their best, though. they still love each other so much. Tunner and Tupper. Well. I don't have them fully fleshed out yet i'll be honest. Tunner is trying his hardest to bond with Tupper, and she would much rather be left alone and talk to her friends. at the point in life where she just hates everybody, and there's not a whole lot Tunner can do about it. Jevin and Biv. well. he never liked his family anyways, and his little sister following him when he ran away is no exception. she loves him. she wants to be just like him. he wants her to leave him alone and stop reminding him that they're "family", or whatever. Black... well. There's a reason HACK can't feel anything toward his older sibling. Black killed him before he had a chance to grow up too much.

As for Gray and Wenda... funnily enough, they're in very similar boats. They love their siblings, they really do!! It just.. would be so much easier if their "siblings" weren't their children, y'know? (just to specify, they are NOT both gray and wendas kids. they were had separately, we just happened to have the same idea for the two of them, lmao)

[rosenrot234]

I'm aware a lot of silent hill acts kinda like a big ol ink blot test for the player. That includes the characters to a point. Folks having diff opinions usually is fine when it comes to silent hill. I get it.

But at the same time I feel kind of confused when people call James stuff like pervert or that he's toxic masculinity. I never got that vibe. I'm talking about OG James too.

To me the sex stuff with silent hill is "Dude James hasn't had any kind of intimacy in 3 years. And he had a intrusive thought like ONCE probably looking at a nurse taking care of Mary." And Silent Hill is skipping in a smug manner all "You still thought about it" even if it was a lightning fast intrusive thought.

His indifference to the monsters being hurt to me is "He's angry at the cancer / disease. Not Mary. The Mary he loved isn't here anymore". So when he sees the Mannequins being harmed by Pyramidhead, that is why he's indifferent to it and just focusing on hiding. To me the cancer is making a total mockery out of Mary by appearing so feminine based. So that's why all the monsters just look so icky but so sexy. And again why Pyramidhead punishes the monsters too. James had that intrusive thought and felt guilty about it. But he's not taking it out on just women period. He's taking it out on himself. So Pyramidhead messing with the monsters too makes sense. I understand WHY people think its purely punishing women. I just politely disagree. ( Altho one can also see the apartment scene with PH as "He's just playing with dollies. Making a silly widdle mockery of playing house" since he's using 2 Manniquins for this. It gave me more a chuckle since PH is a giant troll, that is what he is meant to do )

This is also probably why if you do the kill / stomp a bunch combo a bunch against the monsters, you actually nudge your playthrough towards In Water. The more James really really beats up the monsters ( himself ) , the more he's at risk of drowning. It's a very small nudge though. Nothing to really worry about if you're achievement / ending hunting.

People take him saying he hated Mary way too black / white imo. But again. I'm aware. Ink blot test. This is more a mild disagreement at the end of the day and I wanted to ramble.

I'm also not trying to ignore the whole strip club thing either. I was talking more about the core of the character. Dude was trying to cope. But I don't think that makes him this big slobbering horny beast I see with some fan portrayals of him.

Christ reading thru this post to check if it sounds alright just makes me think "Well if people didn't know I was Asexual , they sure do now". lol

[bleue-flora]

Hi,

do you think that c!Tommy threatened Dream with Sprit's remains because he values his discs more than anything else (to the point where he hesitated when he had to choose between two inanimate objects and his best friend) and he assumed that Dream would have the same values or something along those lines?

Cuz like if Tommy would just give up the discs then a lot of stuff would not even need to happen but unlike Dream (who gave up Spirit's leather) Tommy was unable to do that for the longest time.

I mean yes? Kinda. But also attachments and blackmail are very effective on the server and whole reason Tommy traded for Spirit in the first place. Though there is probably an element of parallelism or copying Dream with threatening to burn Spirit. What’s interesting is I think he would have actually given in and not rebelled against the black mail, except he realized it would never stop. Tommy isn’t going to use an attachment like he is, he’d use that blackmail to make Dream his personal slave (it’s not like he hasn’t don’t that before) so Dream likely realized either he can give up now and potentially lose Spirit or somewhere down the line after doing many things be forced by Tommy to do something that goes too far and he gives up Spirit anyways. At which point it’d be the same result either way, one just saving him much more humiliation amongst other things. Additionally, with George recently being griefed and repeatedly tried to be murdered it highlights his weakness. He can have all the armor and skill in the game but he’d still be vulnerable because of his attachments and that’s dangerous. Not just for him but anyone that he could be forced to turn against as well.

In fact, I think Dream understands attachments and what people would be willing to do for them and that’s why he took the discs, knowing that it would work…

Anyways, there is likely the thought in Tommy’s mind that other people would also do just about anything for their attachments and had that expectation going into his blackmailing of Dream. That short of getting him to murder George, Dream is his bitch. So I can imagine his shock at how Dream just suddenly denies it and says he only cares about the discs. Because just barely short on letting Tubbo die he’d do anything including die for his discs.

Now what’s funny or interesting that I just thought about, is obviously by denying he has any attachments he is protecting his attachments from being used against him. But he also says he only cares about the discs which if we consider Tommy the biggest threat to using oh I don’t know Spirit against him, then having the discs aka leverage over Tommy to stop that is really the only way. So in a backwards kinda way he actually is showing just how much he cares by having an obsession with the discs. By saying ‘burn Spirit I don’t care I’m going after you discs.’ He swapped the focus but is actually protecting Spirit more than if he gave in, because with the discs he can get Spirit. Once again highlighting the irony of that speech, because the only one who’s gonna yell passionately about having no attachments is a man with lots of attachments. The kid saying “sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me” is hurt by those words but trying not to be. Someone actually not hurt would just ignore them…. Maybe that makes sense… I’m sleepy so I feel like this is just rambling but, yea I like where your heads at, pretty on the mark I’d say…

[fluffs-place]

I wanna do this with stached cowboy

Cassidy McCoy

1, What was the original thought that led to the creation of this character?

My husband has a character he loves for rdo, Makwa. We started talking about him one day and somehow decided to start roleplaying. So I made Cassidy as a partner for him

2. How long was the process before the character reached its final version? (or a version that would be clearly recognizable as the character?)

He's still techinally a work in progress but he has most his backstory, character traits, and personality. I just dont have his cowboy design. He has his army fit and his face and hair and stuff like that is done. His now cleary recognizable version was first made on 8/27/24 and his doodle sheet was finished on 9/23/24. So bout a month later. Im also still working on getting his shire/cob mix drawn with his new pattern marking. I used a f2u base but the stature isnt the same so i need to now translate it onto his actual body.

3. What was the first thing you decided on, the character's name, appearance, personality or their role in the story?

So it went kinda backwards from how theyre listed. His role came first since Lamb and I decided to make him Makwa's boyfriend. Then came his personality which plays off Makwa a good bit. Then his design and finally his name.

4. And reverse, which one of the four things did you struggle with the most?

His design. His clothes have been very difficult. His army fit not so much since I can just look at historical uniforms but his cowboy fits been a whole lot harder. I still dont have his cowboy fit cause i cant figure out what kind of silhouette I want for him and the extra details. I want him to look unique and not boring. A lot of cowboy designs just feel really lacking on details. So idk

5. How did you choose their name and why? Was it simply based on vibes or is there any specific meaning behind the name? Are the reasons behind their name different in- and out of universe?

So his name means White Fire Fire. I thought that was hella funny so I chose to use both of those. Hes also a pyromaniac so yknow. I also wanted to make sure he had an Irish last name since his mothers 1st gen Irish immigrant (so shes irish herself) and his dads 2nd gen (so his parents were irish). I just looked around in name lists. I think I specifically looked for male names popular in the year he was born. So like 1850 sumn I think. I have it in my notes somewhere lol

6. What was the thought process behind their appearance? Did you go mostly for the aesthetic or are there other reasons they look the way they do?

Honestly it just kinda immediately was in my head. I was thinking of that one guy in Captain America: The First Avenger. The ginger guy in Steve and Buckys team with the stache. He was my first thought but I wanted Cassidy to look more unhinged which made me then think of Charles Manson and his eyes. Also with some color palette changes. Speaking of which his colors are mostly in the red to yellow range with blue because of fire :)

7. What is an aspect of their appearance that you like the most?

His stache. I dont draw a lot of facial hair and it just is him. It makes him so noticable. Its either that or his eyes. I like the shape and his crazed expression or yknow the opposite when he gets angry and the tops of his eyelids actually touch his iris.

8. What is the origin of their personality? And let's be honest - how much of it is projecting?

He does have some projection but lets be honest again all my characters will have projection. Whether I know or not i just dont know how to make characters without some degree of it. I only know myself completely like that so ofc in creating a whole new person im gonna use myself as reference. Any mini ramble over, he got my pyromania cranked up to 11. Like hes actually an arsonist, I am not. I just like watching fire and watching stuff burn. Idk where the rest of his personality really came from though. Just me brainstorming and givin him stuff.

9. How big is their role in the story? Do they make a frequent appearance or are they a character with little "screentime" but big influence? Or are they just a favourite background guy?

Seeing as its roleplay centered on him and makwas story id say pretty massive lol. I love him but I think lamb and I both kind of see it as Makwa being the main character while Cassidy is his supporting character

10. What is their main character arc in the story? Where do they start and how do they develop? Do they get a happy ending or is their story a tragic one?

Honestly? Hes not a good guy. He never gets redemption. He is intrinsically bad. He kills for the fun of it. He quite literally will kill you (general) if youre too boring and dont bring him entertainment or if your death would bring him entertainment. His main motivators are protecting Makwa and having fun. The most "development" he has is basically developing a set of morals which is just not doing stuff Makwa doesnt like. As for an ending he doesnt really have one yet. We dont know where thats going but we have a few general plot points that are in a timeline.

11. Is there any existing character from other media that your character resembles? Was the resemblance intentional or was it a coincidence?

Without his stache, he honestly looks like Julian Devorak to me. Idk if theres any others tho personality or looks wise.

12. Do you have a playlist for the character? What songs do you associate with them and why?

I do!! Lambs helping me build it but mostly its built off vibes. Anything slightly unsettling or creepy while upbeat. Theres also a ship playlist but its only got like 4 songs rn and that ones Lambs

13. Do you have a voice claim for the character? What do you imagine the character sounds like?

I dont yet. At first I was thinking like southern American accent with notes of Irish but I couldnt find any references to that. So now Im just thinking southern cowboy with some words said with the pronouncation of brit english. Seeing as his father has the southern accent since hes usa raised and his mother died when he was a young kid, he doesnt have a lot of the Irish accent influence anyway.

14. Do you have any quotes tied to the character, either from the story itself or from another source that fit them?

I have some from roleplay but not really. Heres a few from rp i like ig: "Got teeth like the god damn hounds. If your name aint Dog already, it should be." (after Makwa bit him on the hand during their first meeting) Makwa: "...you have to bite the hand that feeds you." Cassidy: "I didn't feed you shit, mutt." "No plan makes a dead man."

15. Have you ever made a moodboard for them?

Hub and I have a Pinterest board for the both of them. It's called Blazen Arrow which is their ship name.

16. Is there any memes or running jokes associated with the character, both in- and out of universe?

in universe, he gets the outlaw name "Fire Boy McCoy" and he absolutely hates it. I cant think any others right now.

17. Are there any motifs or symbols associated with the character? How are they represented, in their design, personality or in some other way?

Fire. Lots of fire.

18. Does the character have other characters connected to them? Do you have a family tree and "offscreen" connections made up for them or do they exist in a vacuum purely for the purpose of the story?

He does have a family which consisted of him late father, late mother, and older sister (and the inlaws and nieces and nephews). Then yknow Makwa. And his horse and cat. Theres a few others but those are the important ones.

19. What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite?

Idk. I just love all of him. Him being completely unhinged probably if i had to pick.

20. Bonus question: share any additional thoughts, art, favourite scenes, anything you've been waiting for a chance to ramble about.

this has taken me so long and now my brain is fried so i cant think of anything BUT if anyone wants to ask questions about him feel free.

Character asks!

These are more focused on the background stuff rather than the usual "what would the character do in XY situation" kinds of asks. I've been looking for something like this for quite a while and in the end decided to make my own. Feel free to use, go wild, enjoy

What was the original thought that led to the creation of this character?

How long was the process before the character reached its final version? (or a version that would be clearly recognizable as the character?)

What was the first thing you decided on, the character's name, appearance, personality or their role in the story?

And reverse, which one of the four things did you struggle with the most?

How did you choose their name and why? Was it simply based on vibes or is there any specific meaning behind the name? Are the reasons behind their name different in- and out of universe?

What was the thought process behind their appearance? Did you go mostly for the aesthetic or are there other reasons they look the way they do?

What is an aspect of their appearance that you like the most?

What is the origin of their personality? And let's be honest - how much of it is projecting?

How big is their role in the story? Do they make a frequent appearance or are they a character with little "screentime" but big influence? Or are they just a favourite background guy?

What is their main character arc in the story? Where do they start and how do they develop? Do they get a happy ending or is their story a tragic one?

Is there any existing character from other media that your character resembles? Was the resemblance intentional or was it a coincidence?

Do you have a playlist for the character? What songs do you associate with them and why?

Do you have a voice claim for the character? What do you imagine the character sounds like?

Do you have any quotes tied to the character, either from the story itself or from another source that fit them?

Have you ever made a moodboard for them?

Is there any memes or running jokes associated with the character, both in- and out of universe?

Are there any motifs or symbols associated with the character? How are they represented, in their design, personality or in some other way?

Does the character have other characters connected to them? Do you have a family tree and "offscreen" connections made up for them or do they exist in a vacuum purely for the purpose of the story?

What is your general favourite thing about the character? What is your least favourite?

Bonus question: share any additional thoughts, art, favourite scenes, anything you've been waiting for a chance to ramble about

[lazylittledragon]

ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????

[shhroomer]

Oh, help me God, this hellboy got me coming back for more

reblogs super appreciated !!! close-ups under the cut !

[fortheloveofexy]

I've seen a lot of posts in the wake of tsc calling out how the Foxes mistreated Kevin and never really gave him the same degree of compassion and patience that they gave Neil (and like, fair enough, there's definitely a disparity in how the two are treated by the broader team) but I think it's important to remember that it's very likely most of the Foxes didn't know just how bad things in the Nest were, especially when Kevin first came to Palmetto.

Like, they knew he'd been hurt badly, but were they ever told the full extent of the abuse in thr Nest? Probably not, because unlike Jean, Kevin was media trained. It was ingrained habit for him to conceal the true conditions inside the Nest to all outsiders, and that's not a habit he'd have been able to break easily. The only people who knew the full extent of what he'd been through were probably Wymack, Bee and Andrew.

Add to that Kevin's abrasive personality and his tendency towards nitpicking and perfectionism, and it's no wonder that the Foxes' patience with him ran thin after a while.

[paingoes]

ohmygodohmygodohhmygod

thank you so much for letting me ramble im literally gonna go through point by point

ooo this was not an intentional reference to the castle exactly, but it is the same point about the weapons being seen as expendable :D its also meant to foreshadow paris’s (and to an extent, delta’s) concern about lorelai. cause lorelai is out there actually fighting.

yesyesyes. paris has insane anger issues but particularly like. an uncontrollable violence trigger. this is what makes him defective. the living weapon training took too well (re: he’s extremely traumatized from it and cant control his triggers.) and lol paris also wishes johanna didnt heal so fast. 

in the same vein paris genuinely isnt trying to be disobedient here. he only snapped when jo insulted delta, not when she said anything about him personally. he’s legitimately trying to follow his programming but hes overreacting to a non-threat because his programming is fucking busted and makes him hypervigilant

yeah delta was pissed off here. paris just embarrassed him really bad and he wanted him to feel helpless for a second to make up for it. just a second :)

hehe yes !!! rug pull!!! i bet when i said roleswap au you would expect paris to be defiant as a whumpee but he….really isnt. more on this later.

delta only ever kills martino with his bare hands, out of absolute necessity. but yeah he’s a very traditional royal in this. he doesnt like violence and sees it as beneath him. 

yeah :) deltas a very calm and unflappable person. he just had to be in the canon, but i think that kind of stoicism really comes to him naturally. if anything, he’s more emotional with paris than most people, which is what we see here. hes even more collected and impenetrable around other people.

yessss delta gets to keep his friends <3 i like imagining higher class kitty and apollo in comparison to the normal rebel ones. i think kitty is a bit colder, but apollo maintains a lot of his warmth. i also thought it was crazy to write a apollo and paris interaction lol bet u didnt see that coming…

yes paris’s own perceived uselessness absolutely fucking destroys him. this is the “more on that later” i was talking about. it makes sense to assume that paris would be defiant cause his fucking attitude and anger issues are so bad in the canon that you assume it would carry over. and it does! but arguably the more integral paris trait, over his anger issues, is his complete seriousness about his role and the way he gives absolutely everything to it. incredibly important paris trait is that if you give him a job, he is going to take it incredibly seriously and will absolutely torture himself if he feels that hes not doing a good enough job at it. and thats really whats happening here. deltas parents bought him after an assassination attempt — and there have been no assassination attempts since. nothing has even come close. delta protected himself the first time. delta does not fucking need him. the king is talking about what a waste of money he was. paris has such a dire need to feel useful and hes given absolutely zero opportunities to do so here. thats the real torture. 

paris’s vanity is a remnant from canon. poor little prince 💔

oh yeah. delta is INCREDIBLY patient with paris here. part of this is because delta is honestly just a more patient person. but its also because this setting is a lot more relaxed than canon. things are very low stakes. paris is more of a threat to himself than anybody else — and he’s putting his own life on the line when he acts out like this. i tried to write delta to be very fair in this AU in that i think he’s acting very reasonably from his perspective. but ultimately what he’s punishing paris for is displaying PTSD symptoms. so thats the push and pull.

see above. he’s not doing it on purpose.

there’s been literally nothing written about delta’s parents. canon paris says some incredibly mean things to him about delta getting sold to pay off a debt just to hurt his feelings, but its not true. neither of them have any idea what the deal was with deltas parents. delta assumes he was abandoned but i dont know if he even places that much stock into the idea so much as he’s (reasonably) very angsty and touchy about it. so he assumes and likes to indulge in the worst. but its not true. deltas parents loved him a lot and would have never ever wanted that for him. this will come up in rubies at some point but it will probably take a while.

yes delta’s name is delta because his name is delta in canon. ik it doesnt really make sense in this universe but i didnt want to give him another name haha. delta <3

okay yes i couldve explained this better. delta is a royal but this is also him leaning more into like the. spiritual side of his powers. when he gets dolled up in the canon its very often in a kind of��religious garb. in this au his role as like. a vestal virgin or a sybil or whatever is more central. hes doing magic with his powers :) it leaves him very vulnerable while hes doing it though which is why hes scared and wants paris to guard.

yes! tbf i dont think paris would normally fight back, just because delta…doesnt hit very hard lol. but he already finds this situation so ridiculous and delta is such a mess at this point its like. “okay. knock it off.” this is more of a callback to the tundra fight than anything else.

yes :) nothing else to say to this but yes. i like aegean seas delta a lot. i imagine what he mumbled was just a curse or something along the lines of “you’re not even worth the effort”

Aegean Seas

Destroyer AU

long awaited roleswap AU. featuring royal delta and (defective!) living weapon paris

delta still has some psychic ability in this AU, but only a moderate amount. its nothing to write home about.

paris doesn’t have any powers, just an incredible capacity for violence. 

(Content: living weapon whumpee, royal whumper, carewhumper vibes, institutionalized slavery, blood, biting, choking, electrocution, choking, suggestive language, background lady whump, clowns, hidden injury, past abuse, past trauma, PTSD triggers, emotional whump, scars, body image issues, war mention, alcohol, non-con touching (nonsexual), conditioning, magical exhaustion, seizure, kinda fluffy?)

“You don’t have to look so upset about it.” Delta twirling the pearl earring around within the pierced fin. The golden bangles of his wrist clicked together lightly at the motion — and all the silver and sea-glass ornaments he wore jingled in time with the movement of the airship. He hadn’t been looking at Paris when he said it, and they were not the only ones in the cabin, but he understood it was meant for him.

“I’m not upset,” Paris said. At least, not as much as he could’ve been. 

Far below, the cerulean sea reflected the sun so that the water itself was blinding. Foam was gathering along the coast — a sure sign of rough waters. On the horizon, the embassy building jutted out from the cape.

~

The ship lowered itself in a hover just by the surface of the beach. Paris slid the exterior door open. He hopped the remaining few feet onto the sand right before the craft finally landed. By way of reflex, he extended one hand back to Delta, who took it without thanks as he stepped down.

The other members of the court soon followed, a handful of advisors and scribes sent to keep the time. With a home advantage, all support had been reduced to a skeleton crew. Paris shifted carefully in between them, eventually settling a few steps behind Delta and a bit off to the right, which he knew was the best sightline he’d get without drawing too much attention to himself.

The path up to the embassy was lined with basalt — and a pretty long walk uphill, considering how many of its visitors were geriatric. At the peak, he again pulled the entrance doors open, taking a cautious look in through the entryway. He felt the familiar weight of the blade tucked up into his sleeve, though he had no real expectation of using it. He held the door open for Delta alone, but deigned to let the rest of the congregation pass through in the same way. He stole a last glance out at the countryside before he pulled the door shut tight.

At the front, Delta’s eyes flitted up in the same clouded concentration he always fell into before the meetings. He refused to take notes, so dedicated to committing absolutely everything to memory. He played all the information back like rolls of film. He waved vaguely at the prompting of his advisors, but it was clear he was somewhere else. 

He only came to when they reached the center. It was a large room, polished, and most everything in it was the soft color of sandalwood. The painted monarch sat perched within the straight-backed chair. His own court spread out in a half-moon around him, all their papers all ready to go. Paris only caught a glimpse of them through the doorway, but the glimpse alone was enough to make him spiteful.

“Watch the entrance,” Delta whispered to him just before they passed through the entryway. Paris nodded and stepped off to the side of the door. 

Soon he was alone in the large hallway. The building was old and its halls were echoing, though not quite as bad as the castle. He leaned back against the wall, wishing he’d brought the cigarettes with him. He passed the butterfly knife idly in between his hands, having no better way to occupy the time. He’d gotten good enough at it that he didn’t even need to look while he did. His eyes still scanned the corridors in the way they’d been trained, sizing up each impotent official or underpaid clerk whose heels tapped down the linoleum tiles. There was no real threat. Nothing ever happened.

The jingling bells warned of her approach before she came into view. He sighed, slipped the knife back into hiding. Jo popped out from the doorway. She was quicker than he would’ve thought, skipping out a few paces before she even turned to see him. When she did, her painted face contorted into an express of unadulterated mirth. She giggled — and the bells of her hat jingled again as she flipped over to stand on her head.

“I was wondering where they were keeping you this time.” Her voice was raised in faux cheeriness. 

Paris watched her carefully — he couldn’t not. The rapid movements set all his nerves on edge. He was sure she knew that. He was sure it was why she did it. He didn’t answer.

She rolled over into a backbend and let her hands guide her up. When she was upright, she was not more than a few inches from his face. She was shorter than him, the difference exaggerated by the heels of his boots and the flatness of her stupid pointy shoes. She rose up on tiptoes to meet his eyes. He could see the glitter against her sclera. 

“No dogs in the house of law, eh?” She stretched one leg up over her head. Her movements continued so fluid and so completely uninfluenced by anything she was saying, as if they were completely different hemispheres of her brain.

“I heard that when the neophytes drop out, they give ‘em a new name and put ‘em out on the street. Painted silver! They spend the rest of their days doing tricks for spare change. Is that true?”

No one ever dropped out. He didn’t answer. She did a back walkover, her speech uninterrupted.

“Or I heard what they’re really doing now is selling all the new grads to Crimson’s West Front,” she paused for dramatic effect, “There’s a famine there, you know. They need new meat!”

She cackled. He stiffened slightly, because that part was probably true. Even if they weren’t getting eaten, a lot of the kids did get bought out for the war effort, and were given no arms when they arrived. They were getting pushed into the meat grinder, literally or figuratively.

She seemed disappointed with his lack of outward reaction. As she rolled onto the floor again, she laid there on her stomach for a second, kicking her legs back and forth.

“You don’t have to worry about that though. I bet he’s nice to you,” She grinned impishly, pushing herself up into another handstand. “I hear he’s nice to everyone.”

She erupted into a laughing fit at that. His eye twitched. He felt the weight of the blade in his sleeve. She looked over to see his expression and her smile widened. She cartwheeled towards him, again landing only inches apart from him.

“People on High Street got a name for him. What was it again? The something wonder? You’ve heard it before, right? You had to. You spend enough time with that whore to-“

He threw her into the ground before she could finish, the last synapse snapping within him. 

The sudden violence got a forced, clipped laugh from her. She did a back roll before he could strike again, sitting up on her knees before she swept one of his legs out. He dropped, but it didn’t slow him down. Nothing could have. He still drove his fist full force into her jaw, once, twice, about as many times as it would take to break it off. 

She didn’t let him get that far. Jo was stronger than she looked and just as quick as he was. She was not downed easily. When he pinned her, she slipped. When her nails reached up to scratch out his eyes, he bit down upon her fingers hard enough to break them. Her blood gushed into his mouth. It was familiar. He didn’t even stop to spit it out.

She elbowed him in the face at the same time she drove her knee up into his stomach — all sharp angles. It was hard enough to knock him off of her and onto his side. Blood poured from his nose. It splattered on the floor right beside her own. She crawled forward on her bloodied fingers, trying to get even. He forced himself back upwards, lunging at her again. He became vaguely aware of a commotion behind him.

“Stop,” Delta said tiredly.

Paris did not stop. No fucking chance. Not now. She was still moving, still breathing, still fucking laughing. His hands closed around the undulations of her throat. 

“Stop,” Delta repeated.

Blood dripped thick and hot from the both of them. Johanna twisted beneath him, her eyes shining like stars. He wanted them barren. He wanted her to stop moving.

“Stop,” Delta said it with no more emphasis than the first two times, but he’d closed the distance between them now. The prongs of the choke collar dug into Paris’s neck, cutting off his oxygen. 

He backed up on his knees, leaning backwards into the touch, the only way he could loosen the chain. But for all the slack the proximity created, Delta only pulled it higher, tighter. No air reached him, even when he’d stopped, even when he had stilled. It kept going. The panic gripped him immediately, tempered only by experienced. Delta wouldn’t kill him. He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t, and as soon as he started to think that he would, the chain released. Paris gasped shakily, collapsed down onto his hands and knees. One hand pawed desperately at his throat. Small beads of blood had formed there in the collar’s outline.

He felt the pressure of the chain being picked up and winced, but it did not tighten again.

“Sorry about him.” Delta frowned. “And…sorry about your…clown.”

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She’s had worse.”

And sure enough, Jo sat up again, the wounds he’d given her already half-healed. Her stupid fucking hat jingled as she shook her head clear. The sound was enough to re-trigger the prey drive. He lunged.

Sharp and course electricity ran straight through his body, aborting the attack before it could even begin. All his muscles locked up. He’d built up a tolerance for the dryer sparks, but being tased was rare. It was a different story. He knew the shock only lasted a few seconds, but those seconds dragged out like years. Delta didn’t even say anything, the tips of his fingers retreating from the raw skin of his neck. 

“Here girl,” the monarch snapped their fingers. 

The clown stood up in her wet clothes, skipping happily back into the employ. Paris kept his eyes trained on the empty space in front of him, the blood spots on the floor. He heard their footsteps retreating. The hallway was silent. One of Delta’s fingers was still hooked around the circle of his collar.

“Clean it up,” he said. Paris nodded. The chain went slack and he was alone in the hall once again.

~

“She started it-“

“She is a jester,” Delta cut him off. “She was doing her job. If she didn’t have that healing factor, you would have killed her.”

His eye twitched. Killed her. Kill her. It flared up within him again, without any target. He dug his nails into his wrist to keep from something worse. The anger burning so hot inside of him he thought he might just be sick from it. She’d done it on purpose. She’d got him on purpose, but it shouldn’t have worked. 

“You weren’t there,” he said, the ache of defensiveness rising in his voice. “You don’t know what she was doing.”

“Did she draw on you?” Delta asked, sounding bored. He already knew the answer.

Paris’s face flushed anyway. He gave no reply.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Some small satisfaction crept into his voice, then faded quickly into irritation. “You didn’t have any impetus. Nobody was in any danger until you snapped. And now they know that if they so much as wave a flag in front of you, you act like a rabid fucking animal.”

“I was defending you, you ungrateful fuck!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Delta looked up in shock.

“I’m sorry,” Paris amended quickly, retaining at least some sense of self-preservation. He covered his mouth with his hand in a a belated effort to silence himself. It wasn’t enough. He’d been on thin ice before, but that could not be tolerated. They both knew it.

“Why are you like this?” Delta asked. He didn’t say it as an insult. He asked like he really wanted to know.

That only made it worse.

~

The inner courtyard of the Aegean palace was dense with marble and wildflowers. He always thought the statues looked out of place among the foliage, the vines creeping up the legs of the gods as if they’d already been forgotten. The last of the day’s light was held up in the violet clouds. Beneath them, the walls were doused in the cool blue of dusk. The air was warm and wet.

Paris went without prompting, without needing to be forced. He pulled the shirt off of his back, shivering a bit as the scars that already laid there were exposed to the open air. He knelt down by the post. The guard shackled his wrists to the side of it. He rested his forehead against the wood, curling and uncurling his fingers. It made it more tolerable.

He heard the whip crack against the ground as the guard made practice shots. Delta sat off to the side, one elbow propped up against the aluminum garden table, watching without much interest. He’d never get his hands dirty doing it himself. He wouldn’t even know how. 

That idiot guard didn’t know much better. The first strike came down unpracticed, landing diagonally along his shoulder and against the old scars. He pressed his head further into the post, preferring the pressure he felt there to the hot pain that was forming along his back.

It only grew. It layered. It would’ve layered already, in just a single beating, but his body had years worth of them just waiting to be reignited. The whip dredged up the old pain easily. It didn’t split the skin, but he could remember when it had. The thought alone made him dizzy. The pain quickly became all he could focus on. It kept going.

“Please stop,” he said, beginning to get truly nervous now. It’d been going on too long and was pushing up against the bounds of what he could tolerate. His hands turned over anxiously in the solid iron of the manacles. He couldn’t have gotten out even if he tried.

Delta held a hand up. The whip temporarily ceased. He stood up from the table, electrifying the air as he got closer. 

He shouldn’t have said anything. 

“Hm?” Delta asked, leaning down a little, “Stop?”

He could tell that he was feeling vindictive. Delta’s voice took on that soft, too-patient tone it always had when he was furious. 

“Paris, when I told you to stop, what did you do?” he chided.

“…Kept doing it,” he muttered miserably into the post. He hated when he got like this.

“So you do understand.”

“It hurts.” He kept his voice soft, somewhat whiny. It was calculated, but he didn’t have to force it. It didhurt.

“It’s supposed to. I wouldn’t have to do this if you would just listen the first time. You don’t have anyone to blame for this but yourself.”

There was no making him understand. Delta had no concept of what hurt meant — of how much was too much. His own body was unblemished. He’d never bled for anything. 

For as long as he was standing there, the punishment couldn’t continue. They wouldn’t dare swing the whip when Delta was in line of it, god forbid. He took the break for what it was, a few needed seconds for him to catch his breath. Delta seemed to catch onto what he was doing, taking a few steps back. He turned back to the guard.

“Finish up. Gag him if he talks again. He knows better,” he instructed. 

He paced out of the courtyard, retreating back inside the castle walks. He never liked to see the aftermath, either.

~

Delta had been sixteen years old on the eve of his first and only assassination attempt. It had been a failure, in the sense that he had not died from it. It had also been a failure in the sense that the assailant had not even gotten close. 36,000 volts ran straight through his circulatory system before the knife could even fall.

Delta had been uninjured — and in the end, unshaken. The King and Queen were not. They had no other heir.

Paris came as a knee-jerk reaction, dredged up out of whatever trench they’d found him in. He could play nice, when he needed to. He knew exactly what was on the line.

He was passable. The King bought him alone and unannounced. He’d complain for years afterwards that he’d been ripped off.

Paris had glanced up when he was first made to kneel in the throne room. His first impression was that Delta looked awfully calm for someone who had just survived an assassination attempt.

Delta was unimpressed by it, and had been unimpressed by everything since.

~

Almost everything. Kitty glowed blue in the light of the lounge. It was Delta’s favorite room. in the palace. It had been even since he was little. The walls were all made of glass, with thousands of gallons of seawater lying just behind them. Whole shoals of fish reflected silver onto the dark floor. The sequins of Kitty’s slit dress had the same effect.

She was wearing a collar. He didn’t know why he found this so funny. He guessed it could be considered a choker, if he wanted to be generous, but with the ears and the tail, “collar” was the first word that came to mind.

Hers wouldn’t choke her. If he wanted her to, he’d have to do it himself.

She draped herself over the arm of his chair. Kitty was growing into herself so beautifully. Her eyes still lit up at the sight of the fish swimming, just the way they had when they were kids, and he knew she wanted nothing more than to break straight through the glass to get at them. But everything else about her now shone with such a honed sophistication. 

“You’re bleeding,” she said, her eyes widening with concern.

“What?” He blinked. He hadn’t meant to.

But sure enough, a thin stream of blood trickled from his nose just as soon as she got close to him. Delta blushed, a pale blue hue rising up beneath his freckles. It came as a betrayal.

“You’re so predictable.” She almost smiled, pressing a pink handkerchief to his face before the blood could drip onto the soft sheen of his clothes.

The air around him crackled so badly both their hair stood on end.

~

Apollo tread into the kitchen with the golden fringes of his clothing catching all the light. He dragged the kitchen chair out and fell lightly into the seat. He made a soft sound of surprise  as he found Paris leaning back against the edge of the counter. 

“You have to stay up as long as he does?” Apollo asked. He leaned forward against the marble table, rocking the chair from side to side.

“I’m not supposed to sleep at all,” Paris responded flatly, only half joking. It was a bad look for him to be sleeping while Delta was awake, in the same way it was a bad look for him to be sleeping in. That left a very small window for him to get any rest at all. 

Apollo grimaced in sympathy. He placed the empty glass down on the counter. Wordlessly, Paris took it to refill.

“Oh, I didn’t- Is that even your job?” Apollo asked, a blush rising to his face.

Paris shrugged, pouring the last of the bottle out into the glass. He slid it back across the table. 

“You should let me fix that for you,” Apollo offered.

Paris yanked his hand back as violently as if he’d been burned. He thought it was invisible. It hadn’t healed that wrong. It still worked. It wasn’t an impediment. He clutched it to his chest protectively, shielding his wrist with his other hand.

Apollo gave him a knowing look. He stirred the drink idly. The ice made a soft noise as it clattered against the edges of the glass.

“They didn’t splint that for you in training?” He tilted his head.

Paris looked down. He tentatively loosened the grip on his wrist. It’d just been a fall. He’d gotten knocked backwards and he’d needed to stop himself from cracking his skull onto the floor. He’d done it wrong. The wrist had taken the brunt of the impact. He kept it in a splint at night — and when he was alone — but he couldn’t ever wear it around the trainers. He made use with the bandages instead, prayed everyday that medical didn’t come see him. In time, the bones had stitched themselves back together. Not enough, apparently.

Apollo was still staring at him.

“…It’s disqualifying,” he said softly.

“Ah,” Apollo leaned his elbow on the counter. He pressed one finger up against his lips. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Paris looked at him gratefully. Apollo took another sip of the drink, seeming to study the swirling patterns of the table’s surface. After a while, he added:

“He wouldn’t mind, though.”

Paris frowned. He didn’t think so either. That wasn’t the point. He couldn’t have his wrist be unusable for a full six weeks. He could not stand to be any more unusable than he already was.

He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He never would. The silence endured. Apollo shrugged, taking the drink back with him as he ducked out of the bright kitchen. Paris drew the sleeve of his shirt all the way past his fingertips.

~

ponyboy: heyyyyy

headrooms: holy shit

headrooms: i thought you fucking died

ponyboy: nope :-)

ponyboy: just busy yk how it is

headrooms: fuck

headrooms: dont scare me like that

ponyboy: sorryyyyy

ponyboy: how have you been

headrooms: im chill

headrooms: i got beat up by a jester last week

ponyboy: lmfao

ponyboy: dude shut up your job is cushy as shit

ponyboy: you wanna know what they had me doing last week????

headrooms: uphill both ways in the snow

ponyboy: i was pushing whole barrels full of petroleum and poison uphill in the coldest day of winter. they didnt even give me gloves until my fingers were already falling off!!!

ponyboy: hey fuck you

headrooms: lol

headrooms: are you good though like actually 

ponyboy: ya i mean

ponyboy: its definitely heating up here but we’re still holding a good position 

ponyboy: they kinda treat me like shit but they also dont want to lose me so im not being sent for the real suicide missions yet <3

headrooms: thats good i guess

headrooms: is vi chill

ponyboy: omg no shes been on her fuckin period lately 

ponyboy: bitch mode

headrooms: lmfao mine too

headrooms: i swear its the full moon

ponyboy: IT LITERALLY IS IDK WHAT HER PROBLEM IS

ponyboy: ughhhhhh

headrooms: i miss you

headrooms: like

headrooms: all the time

ponyboy: i miss you too !

ponyboy: ill let you know if im ever in your corner of the galaxy! i want to see you again so badly <3

Paris winced. If her people ever ended up in his corner of the galaxy, that was a bad, bad sign. Selfishly, he wished for it anyway.

He heard footsteps approaching and quickly slid the phone back into his pocket. He was not quick enough to get rid of the cigarette. Delta paced out onto the balcony in a whirlwind. Little bouts of lighting lit up by his eyes.

He plucked the cigarette straight out of his mouth. His other hand smacked hard against the side of Paris’s skull. 

“Ow,” Paris winced, though it didn’t really hurt. Because he wanted Delta to feel bad. Or because he knew he wanted to hear it. Whichever it was that day. Whichever worked.

“Those are my fucking lungs,” he hissed. The guilt trip hadn’t worked. Paris shrugged.

“Sorry.”

The apology worked better. Delta’s body language relaxed some as he snubbed the cigarette out on the palace wall. He didn’t ask for the rest of the pack. Smoking was fair game, really. It was getting caught doing it that was the issue. 

“Who were you texting?” he asked mildly.

He hadn’t hid the phone quick enough. He tried to play it off.

“Just Lorry.” He looked down. 

“Oh.” Delta’s expression seemed to soften, almost imperceptibly. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered automatically. His heart quickened right after. “…Why? Did you-“

“No,” Delta cut off that train of thought before it could really begin. “No news. I was just wondering.”

“She’s fine, then,” he confirmed. As much as she could be.

It was only then that Delta actually looked guilty. He didn’t have to. It wasn’t his fault. Lorelai had been purchased months before Paris had. It was a miracle he was even allowed to stay in touch with her. He knew most of the program’s graduates weren’t half as lucky.

He still wanted the cigarette. He leaned back against the wall, unsure what to do with his hands or his mouth when it was gone. Delta didn’t leave after that, the way he’d expected him to. He pulled himself up onto the railing with a kind of stupid abandon.

The air carried the scent of salt from over the ocean. Down on the beach, two kids flew a white kite right above the waves, blissfully unaware of the peacetime’s fragility.

~

“Keep?” Paris asked, holding up the alligator skin boots. They’d been dyed a shade of ruby red.

“Absolutely not.” Delta shook his head frantically, “Toss. Don’t even tell anyone I had those.”

“I thought they were nice,” Paris muttered. 

He tossed them into the trash pile anyway. He crossed back over the length of the massive closet, pulling another bag off the shelf. This was absolutely, definitely not his job. But it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He liked anything that did not make him feel like a total waste of space.

His knees hit the ground before he really knew what he was doing. It was a better instinct, though, probably the least harmful out of all the ones he could not control. Delta looked up in surprise, only realizing what had just happened as the King stepped in through the doorway. Delta’s attention recentered on his father. They both acted as like he wasn’t even there.

“Don’t you have a dispatch to be filling out?” Ulysses leaned against the doorway, surprisingly casual in the company of his only son. It was a reprimand, but his tone was still playful.

“I’m fuckin’ working on it, jeez,” Delta snapped. 

“Doesn’t look like it,” the King glanced around the room. Paris flinched a bit as his gaze passed over him, but it didn’t linger long.

“Oh!” The queen Andromeda appeared in the entrance before Delta could even respond, looking excitedly at the gown Delta held in one hand. “I’ve always loved that dress! You never wear it!” 

“Oh my god,” Delta said, “Can you leave me alone.”

She rushed forward anyway, squishing his face with one hand as she kissed his cheek.

“Mom!” He blushed terribly.

She smiled, knowing exactly how much she was embarrassing him. He shoved her lightly back towards the door and shut it quickly before either of them could protest. He slammed his head against it once it was closed.

“You can get up,” Delta rolled his eyes. Paris did, rigidly so, in the same mechanical way as when he’d gone down. He blinked a few times, trying to bring himself back to the present.

“They’re so fucking annoying,” Delta muttered to no one in particular, wiping his face off.

“Your parents are nice,” Paris protested weakly in their defense.

“He beat you with a 2x4,” Delta reminded him.

Paris shrugged. The King could’ve done much worse. He’d snapped at Delta that time — not on purpose. Never on purpose. It was only the nerves firing wrong, the signals getting twisted. He couldn’t help it. But it’d been grounds for immediate termination. Paris got off easy, and had moved on from it fairly quickly. Delta still held a grudge against his father for it. 

“Keep?” Delta asked this time, desperate to change the subject. Paris guessed he was glad, too. Something in him ached awfully whenever they were around.

“Keep,” he affirmed.

~

It was awful. They had to hold court later, had to hold it in ten fucking minutes, and his heart felt like it was about to explode if he didn’t kill something. He paced uncontrollably, snapping at the air no matter how hard he tried to stop it. Delta watched idly from the throne. Not angry. Just visibly unpleased with it all.

“Come here,” he called finally. 

Paris flinched. It was not a request. He tried anyway.

“I don’t…want you to…” he protested weakly.

“I didn’t ask if you wanted it.”

Paris reluctantly approached, kneeling beside the throne. Delta tilted his head, the tiara slipping down a bit as he did so. A soft blush rose to Paris’s face. He pulled his shirt off, then lowered further onto the floor, laying down flat on his stomach. He rested his head against his arm, burying his face. He heard Delta rising up from the throne and settling cross-legged onto the floor beside him.

Delta made that same soft, dissatisfied noise he always did when he saw the old whip scars all along his back. Not his work. The lashes he gave didn’t leave a mark. He didn’t like it when they did. Paris winced.

They were ugly. Paris knew that if the King had caught a single look at the lattice, he’d have never been bought in the first place. Because it was defacement. Because they were ugly. The thought echoed in Paris’s brain every time he caught a glimpse. It was pure vanity. He was a weapon, he knew it didn’t matter, he shouldn’t have even cared about that kind of thing. But he did. He hated them. 

“So tense,” Delta murmured from above him. His hands kneaded into the ridges along Paris’s spine – that strange, analgesic touch. Paris could feel his muscles softening involuntarily, the tension in them forcefully removed.

The urchin spine slid into the center of his shoulder blades. He bit his arm to keep from gasping.

It wasn’t the toxin alone that did it. He knew that because he’d pricked himself with it once, just out of curiosity, and he had felt almost nothing at all. It was the way he used it. 

He didn’t always hate it; sometimes it was almost nice. It was nicer when they did it alone, when he wasn’t forced to take it, exposed on the floor of the throne room. It was viscerally unpleasant to experience against his will. He did not like Delta having that much control over his body. He didn’t want to calm down.

The spine entered again, and he calmed anyway.

It went on like that until all the rigid tension seeped out through his skin like poison, then a while afterwards too. It was gentle, despite everything. He could’ve cried.

“Better?” 

He nodded, though he really just felt hazy. He didn’t think he could even hold a sword anymore. The calm felt intrusive. He was sure he couldn’t move at all, almost limp in the aftermath. He didn’t need to, though. Delta pulled him up a little, trying to straighten him out. He found his position again, on his knees. 

He pulled the shirt back on, roughly. His arms had gone numb; it took so much more effort than it had to take off. He shifted, readjusting so that he was facing the rest of the room this time. It took so much effort just to sit upright then. He felt high.

“Good boy,” Delta said, about a half second before the doors opened. He was only saying it to be mean, but in the moment, Paris couldn’t bring himself to care.

~

Delta yanked his hand away from his face just before Paris could snap it off. Paris hissed in frustration, falling abruptly to the ground. He pounded his fists against the tile. It was all he could do to not fucking kill him. 

“Why the fuck would you do that?” He hissed out through gritted teeth. It was wrong. He was making it worse for himself. He had no fucking right to be talking to him like that. 

He couldn’t help it. He felt like he was going to scream.

Delta watched impassively.

“It’s getting worse,” Delta said. There was real concern in his voice. 

Paris pressed his forehead to the ground, curling up. Anything else. 

“I know it’s getting worse,” he growled.

Delta started to bend down, which was the worst thing he could’ve done.

“Get away,” Paris warned. For fucking once, Delta actually listened, taking a few cautious steps back.

It took ten whole minutes for him to get back to a state where the prey drive wasn’t waiting two inches beneath the surface. He sat up wearily. Exhausted. Fucking embarrassed.

Delta’s eyes were wide, but then, they always were. The rest of his expression revealed nothing at all.

“You need to figure that out,” he announced quietly.

“I’m not doing it on purpose.” Paris buried his face in his hands. “You know I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“That isn’t going to matter to them and you know it.” His voice was soft. Almost sympathetic. “And don’t talk to me like that,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Delta…” Paris whined into his hands. It was an undisguised plea. As if the way he was talking was what mattered right now.

“I’m serious. Don’t.” The plea went unanswered. If anything, his voice hardened. Paris watched with some small horror as all the patience seemed to bleed out of him. As if he could afford to lose a single ally.

“Sorry,” he muttered. 

“Figure it out,” Delta said with such sincere urgency that it seemed like now was his turn to beg. He stormed off, unwilling to let anyone else get the last word in.

Paris picked himself up off the ground and put his fist through the nearest wall.

~

No matter what happened that day, he still came crying in the night like a little kid. 

Paris flinched a bit as he was awoken, but not for very long. He guessed he should’ve been used to it by now. Delta stood over him, tugging at his sleeve impatiently, wordless. His eyes shone like beacons in the darkness of the bedroom. His hair was down. He looked so young when he was like this. His look was all pleading.

Paris sighed, letting himself be roused from the bed. He just barely had time to grab the sword before he was dragged out into the hallway. He followed Delta all the way up the stairs, all the way up to his bedroom. He could hear the water trickling well before he entered.

His parents really did spoil him. Delta’s room was probably the most expensive part of the entire palace. Water rushed down from the ceiling in an artificial waterfall, landing into the koi pond that took up a whole quarter of the room. All the rest of the room was crystalline, opalescent. Absolutely cluttered with anything that would shine.

Paris didn’t roll his eyes at the giant seashell that held Delta’s mattress. He’d seen it enough times that it had lost its novelty. He didn’t expect anything less.

“Watch the door,” he begged.

Paris nodded. He knew the drill. He sat down on the floor by Delta’s bed while the sheathed sword rested in his lap. He wouldn’t need it. He knew he wouldn’t need it. Delta was just scared.

Delta crawled up into the bed, arranging himself carefully for the meditation. The low drone of electricity began to fill the room. Channeling again. All the stars had aligned for it.

“παρακαλῶ,” Delta muttered beneath his breath. “παρακαλῶ, παρακαλῶ, παρακαλῶ…”

The incantation began shortly after that. The hair on the back of Paris’s neck stood up. He kept his eyes on the door. He didn’t like to watch.

He’d learned to tune out the rambling, for the most past. He knew Delta didn’t like it when people overheard — and he only let Paris do it out of necessity. It was fine. He didn’t understand any of the Greek. It was only the rapid, manic way he spoke that really scared him. Hushed and quick and ancient. It felt right to avert his eyes for it. It was something he had no business witnessing.

His eye twitched a little bit as he realized just how loud the incantation was growing behind him. The room was getting brighter. He got the awful feeling he always did when he felt lightning was about to strike. It was getting bad this time. It was getting worse than he could ever remember it being.

He turned around.

It was about as bad as he imagined. The light burned and radiated off of him, bright enough to be blinding. Delta was definitely seizing beneath it all. His eyes were shut tight like the power was painful. His hands clutched at the blanket. Paris realized with horror that the bedding was turning blue from all the blood that then dripped from his mouth and his eyes. 

“Fuck,” Paris muttered beneath his breath. 

He should have known better than to wake a sleepwalker.

He regretted it as soon as he touched him. For a minute, he thought he’d really gone blind. The pain exploded in his arm as he was thrown back against the wall. His own body seized with the residual electricity. He gasped, crumbling down into a heap onto the soft floor.

“What the fuck did you do?” Delta coughed up blood onto the floor. Blood or tears poured from his eyes. In all likelihood, it was both. He wiped at them idly, not seeming to be in any particular hurry. It wasn’t like he’d be able to get all of it off with his hands.

He stumbled up from the bed — and immediately fell onto the floor. He crawled the rest of the way over to the koi pond, scooping the water up with his hands to remove the rest of the blood. 

“Why the fuck did you do that?” he repeated, even angrier now.

“You were seizing.” Paris gasped. His arm hurt badly enough that he thought it might be broken. He couldn’t tell. He was still mostly blind.

“I told you not to interrupt,” Delta pressed his forehead onto the stone. He couldn’t even stand.

“You’re pushing it too far,” Paris said. It was all he said. It was all he needed to.

“Shut up,” Delta warned.

“You’re pushing it too far,” he repeated, sing-song.

“Shut the fuck up!” Delta stood up again. Paris knew he meant to hit him, meant to fight him, and suddenly that was what was happening. 

“Oh god damn it, you fucking moron.” Paris blocked his fists with his arms. It hurt a little bit, but not nearly enough to incapacitate. He pushed Delta off with zero effort, which only seemed to piss him off more.

Delta growled, stumbling to his feet. He marched over to the bedside table, pulled out what Paris recognized belatedly as a fucking muzzle.

“Wait.” He tensed up, still not having risen off the floor. “Wait, wait, wait, chill-“

Delta fell messily to his knees, trying to secure it onto him. This time, Paris actually did fight. He caught his wrists. He hated that thing so much. It was the middle of the fucking night, he’d never be able to sleep with it on. He didn’t deserve it. He’d been trying to help.

“Stop,” he pleaded while he still had the ability to. “Come on. Stop. Please.”

Delta sighed in defeat. He dropped the muzzle to the floor — and let himself fall to it a few seconds later. He mumbled something in Greek.

“I’m tired,” he muttered into the carpet. His mouth was still bleeding.

Paris stood up, with a lot of effort, but he was still in better shape that Delta was. He picked him up with his uninjured arm. It wasn’t difficult. Delta was light. He wouldn’t have won the fight he’d tried to start. Paris pushed him back onto the bed, letting him collapse there.

“On your side,” Paris reminded him. Delta readjusted onto his side so that the blood wouldn’t asphyxiate him.

“Fucking goodnight, I guess,” Paris muttered, picking his sword back up from the ground. He picked the muzzle up too, placing it back in the drawer. Should’ve just thrown the damn thing out.

“Stay?” Delta asked.

“Yeah, think I’m good on that.” Paris started to walk out the door. 

“Stay.” It was an entreaty, now. Paris groaned. He walked back, collapsing onto the other side of the bed.

“Not all night. You cry in your sleep. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this.”

“So do you,” Delta muttered in reply, already half-asleep.

Paris shrugged. The waterfall was quiet and reassuring. He could stay for that, if nothing else. 

~~~

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

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[wonderholegifs]

Rhett & Link's Wonderhole

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

....so as it turns out I'm mentally ill over dragons rising

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

An Analysis of Gman in Half Life: Alyx

HL:A Gman is by far the most interesting version of Gman I've seen and I've noticed so many details in his one interaction with Alyx, to the point I needed to make a full post about all the bullet points. (Note that this is MY personal interpretation, so it could be different from what was intended or what other people believe)

Starting from the very beginning, when Alyx asks whether Gman is Gordon Freeman or not, he responds in a kind of. Condescending way.

It's almost like he's amused by the fact he was mistaken for Gordon. not to mention the use of "Imprison" in the statement, almost as if he's not only making a snide remark towards Gordon, but also implying that even he sees Gordon's employment as "imprisonment". Not to mention the implication that it really does not take that much to hold Gordon captive in one way or another. Could also be literal, meaning Gordon isn't near powerful enough to require a full Vault be built around him.

A: "So. Who are you?"

Alyx asks a very simple question cause. why wouldn't she be confused? She expected a super-weapon; she expected Gordon Freeman, so when she found nothing but a man in a suit who straight up scoffs at the misunderstanding, of COURSE she'd want to ask questions. However, Gman only responds with:

Gman deflects the question, but rather than completely ignoring it, he simply leads it into a new question: "What can I offer you?"

He guides the conversation to a different topic, luring Alyx away from questioning who, or what, he is, whether it's because he doesn't want to (or can't) give an answer, or if it's because he simply wants the conversation to move forward rather than being caught on the nature of Gman himself.

G: "Some believe the fate of our world is Inflexible. My Employers disagree."

This statement is funny in an ironic way. he states that fate is flexible and can be changed, yet. When was the last time Gman didn't have full say on what can and will happen? By making everything go a very specific way, you CREATE fate.

G: "They authorize me to… nudge things in a particular direction from time to time. What would YOU want nudged, Ms. Vance?"

The use of word "Nudge" is an interesting way to describe changing things within the timeline. though something else that's interesting is his facial expressions during this moment.

He looks almost. Kind. but in a forced sort of way. It feels like he's expecting a certain answer from Alyx, and is just waiting for her to say it.

However, when she says she wants the combine off earth, his expression changes.

The change in expression implies that Alyx's answer was not the one he wanted or hoped for. Thus, he once again ignores what Alyx said and gives his own reasons for it.

G: "Ahhh. That would be a considerably large nudge. Too large, given the interests of my employers."

Rather than giving Alyx a second chance at a more reasonable request however, he instead says:

G: "What if I could offer you something you don't know you want?"

It finally clicks together why Gman's there: To make a deal. Whatever Alyx said before this moment was completely irrelevant. No matter what Alyx requested to have "Nudged", he would have brought up his own offer. He had already mapped out how the conversation was going to end even before Alyx had even begun speaking to him. It was just a matter of getting there.

Gman showing Alyx her fathers death was an intentional and targeted choice. Alyx is a little more naïve here than she is in HL2, not to mention her close relationship to Eli. Eli is one of the only people she has left at this point in her life, so. Why wouldn't she want to save him? This is exactly the reason Gman chose this event in particular above anything else, because he knew it was an offer Alyx would NEVER say no to. He knows Alyx more than she knows herself, and had already predicted the outcome of the situation. So, understandably, Alyx kills the Advisor in place of her father's life.

This line. This line is so interesting to me in particular. Rather than describing Eli as a "person" or "human", and describing the dead Advisor as something "alien", he refers to both as "entities." almost as if he sees both of them on the same wavelength of sorts. It implies Gman sees no difference between a human and an animal, or alien of some kind. Sees them all as simply that. Entities.

Yet another example of Gman deflecting the questions given to him, guiding the conversation instead towards Alyx herself.

G: "A previous hire has been unable — or unwilling — to perform the tasks laid before him. We have struggled to find a suitable replacement. Until now."

Him referring to Gordon in this way is interesting to me. Was the sudden wish to drop Gordon from employment due to the Vortigaunt intervention in HL2 Episode 1? Was it because Gordon was truly incapable of fulfilling certain "tasks"? Or maybe it was because Gordon was not as vulnerable to Gman's influence? It's unclear, and it's also not clear whether this means Gordon is fully free of Gman's control or not.

At this point it's made crystal clear that Alyx killing the advisor in place of her father was a contract she was signing, one she didn't even know she held the pen to. This was always going to be the outcome of the interaction, since the beginning. Everything Alyx had done up to that point was to help Gman and his "Employers" get further in their goals now that Gordon was deemed "Incapable". Nothing that Alyx could have done would've mattered; her "fate" was decided from the beginning.

Overall what I gather from this ending is a lot about Gman as a character. He never truly lies, yet he purposefully leaves out important details, such as the fact that reversing Eli's death wasn't without a price. He manipulates the conversation to fit his wants and needs, ignoring direct questions he sees as unimportant to his goals. And the thing is, he does it in a way that Alyx doesn't even seem to notice. He has played this game so many times that he knows exactly what moves to play. He knows the people he talks to more than they know themselves. He uses their worst fears against them to make them go to him for safety.

Judging by the things Gordon survived in Black Mesa, you can gauge he had a strong will to survive. So what better to do to seal a deal than to threaten that life he cares so much about? To tell him that the only other option was to go under Gman's employment else he face death itself? Alyx had such a strong connection to her father, so what better to do than to tell her that Eli will die if she doesn't do anything, luring her in to sign a contract without even knowing what she was signing?

Gman is a master manipulator, no better words for it. And he always manages to do it in such a way that you can barely even notice it happening. He never raises his voice. he never shows irritation or hostility aside from only one instance. Because why should he be frustrated? He's won even before the game started. And honestly that is frightening to me, cause it shows that he's done this many times before and knows just how to get what he and his "Employers" want, regardless of how it effects other people.