#i haven't even eaten yet so this might make no sense

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

WAIWAIWAIWAIT. OK. this is more coping from me i think. but w 4 more days til the new episode I've been doing some thinking.... Lubelle saying she wants to study Cecil's poor confused brain.... Kasper('s deactivated husk) still being out in the sandwastes..... Thinking that. If the UoWii found Kasper and reactivated him... he'd be willing to get them Cecil's brain....

[shotmrmiller]

soulmate au part 1

john price x f!reader

wc: 1.2k

unedited, forgive my mistakes.

since you were born, your world has been grey. you never thought anything of it, until at school, they started teaching you colours. the only ones in the room that could see more than just different shades of grey, apart from the teacher, were identical twins.

weird.

you went home and asked your parents.

"we are born missing half of ourselves. we have a fated one, and when you meet them, your world will look the way it was meant to."

oh. but... "in class, there were twins that could see colour. what about them?"

they look surprised for a second until your dad softly explains. "in rare instances, the soulmate bond will be platonic. which makes sense in this case, because twins grow up with a connection regular people like us will never understand."

you nod and lower your gaze to look at your shoes. you wonder if the person meant for you is interested in junie b. jones books like you are.

-

in high school, you crush on this pretty girl— a cheerleader. her hair is long and beautiful, her face is small and round, and she's so kind. just your type.

but no colour stains your vision, so you burrow your emotions deep and mourn the loss of what could've been.

-

in college, one of your friends ask you if you've met your soulmate yet.

"no, not yet," you lament. what she says after freezes the blood in your veins.

"my mom knew someone whose soulmate was already dead before they had even been born," she comments while stabbing a grape tomato with her fork. "it was really tragic, because she'll never know what it's like to know a love that has no equal."

your heart is in your throat, and you find it hard to swallow the food in your mouth.

what if your soulmate is already dead? oh, god. you might just throw up. your friend doesn't seem to notice the change in your demeanor and continues to babble carelessly about how she knew someone that knew someone who's soulmate had turned out to be a murderer.

oh my fucking god.

you quickly run to the bathroom and throw up your lunch.

how cruel is the universe? to have no control over who is meant to be for you.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and lean against the stall of the bathroom. you should've known that this soulmate business was too good to be true.

cupping your hands, you rinse the taste of bile out of your mouth before walking back to your friend who stayed in her seat.

"jesus, you look terrible, you alright?" she asks.

running your fingers through your hair, you huff. "i've certainly been better. just got a bit nauseous, nothing serious. maybe it's a stomach bug."

"oooh, you better not be pregnant! what of your dreams of working in the medical field?"

you giggle at her response. "that'd be impossible unless i'm the virgin mary."

she gapes comically then leans in and whispers, "you're lying! don't tell me you haven't dated anyone just because they weren't your soulmate."

you shrug, and keep your eyes fixed on your half-eaten plate of food. "i don't really wanna talk about it, if that's alright with you. besides, you've got bigger things to worry about, like the upcoming exam for mr. richardson."

slapping a hand to her forehead, she exclaims, "oh, shit! i totally forgot! shit!"

you watch her inhale the rest of her salad and toss her trash before waving goodbye and sprinting toward the library.

with a sigh, you look down at your food. grey. lifeless. shaking your head, you pick up your plate and toss it in the bin.

you decide to focus solely on your studies. you have dreams of being a doctor and pining after someone you haven't even met yet would only serve as a distraction.

--

your white coat grazes your calves as you walk toward your new patient. standing outside the room, you pick up the clipboard.

Price, John. 34, Active Military.

he's the head of the task force! god, you've only heard stories of them from the other medics on base who have met them, so to finally come face to face with the man, the myth, the legend? you wipe your clammy hands on the fabric of your scrubs and clear your throat.

be professional, be professional. he's just another patient, it's no big deal.

rapping your knuckles on the door, you wait a second before twisting the knob with a shaky hand. you nervously keep your eyes on the clipboard as you walk in.

"good morning, captain price."

"mornin', doc," he rumbles.

oh, his deep voice just might be the end of you.

"you don't sound all that happy to be here, captain," you tease while flipping through his medical history papers.

he lets out a low chuckle, and you squeeze your thighs together at the sound. delicious.

"nothin' personal, doc. just don't like bein' here, you understand."

lightly laughing at his joke, you finally steel your nerves and look up at him.

only to have your vision bleed in something you don't understand. is that colour? is this what colour looks like?

the clipboard drops, clattering to the floor. john— being the courteous gentleman that he is— quickly kneels to grab it and lifts his head as he hands it to you.

he freezes in place, the clipboard slipping from his hands as he stares at you.

you thickly swallow, and dumbly question, "do you...has your....colour? can you see colour?"

unblinking, john's eyes are fixated on you as he remains silent.

your eyes dart around to take in his features. his brightly-coloured eyes are framed by lines that hint at his age, his strong jaw adorned by a mutton-chop beard. his nose is specked with a beauty mark.

"what colour are your eyes, captain?" you softly ask.

he closes his mouth and takes in a sharp breath. "i've been told they're blue."

"blue," you smile. the eyes of your soulmate are blue.

but then, your delighted smile melts off your face, in horror.

there's a shiny band on his finger. he's married.

john price, your soulmate, is fucking married.

your vision distorts with the tears that threaten to spill and bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. it feels like there are shards of glass in your lungs, cutting you open with each quivering breath you take. your pain is red-hot, searing under your skin, flowing through your veins like molten lead.

john knows exactly what you're looking at.

"love—" he starts but you cut him off swiftly.

"don't. you don't owe me anything, captain. uhm, but uh... maybe it's best that we switch your doctors, yeah? conflict of interest, and all that."

you all but run away, away from that room, from him.

how terribly unlucky.

you head towards your office, which is down the hall, and slam the door closed. only then, do you cry, and mourn what should've been.

[yan-randomfandom]

Hii! Could I request a yan! Jinx with a darling who is on hunger strike? (Bacically, darling got kidnapped and so she decided to stop eating till she gets freed...is that even a word?)

Anyways, ty 4 reading my request and I would be really happy if you were to fuffil it <3

Make sure u drink enough water!

Yandere!Jinx x GN!Starving!Reader

a/n: thank you for your kind words anon! 😺 i just realized how much energy i gave mc here omg 😭🙏

tw; starvation, kidnapped MC ermm

💧 ;

Stubbornness is something both you and Jinx share. It's built into your very core. She knows this, and yet, here we are.

You're tied to a chair, looking away from her with a deep frown on your face—unwilling to eat.

"My sweetest," Jinx groans, dragging out her words. "Darling, baby, angel..." She places her hands on the back of your chair, her breath brushing the tip of your nose—"beloved."

...

You roll your eyes. "It stinks."

With an offended gasp, she recoils from you, her eye twitching. "I— You— Come on! At least I had dinner, but you? You haven't eaten anything for days!"

As if the Gods have a sense of humor, your stomach lets out a loud, drawn-out rumble. It goes on for a few moments... like her hideout wasn't quiet enough already. You have half the heart to glance at Jinx, who's watching you with an unimpressed expression.

Against your better judgment, and despite the deadly stomachache, you don't say anything.

Jinx pushes the bowl of food in front of you. "...Your, uh, stomach's hungry. Please. I just want you to eat—"

"I want you to let me go," you snap, glaring at her. You emphasize your point by rattling the chair with your frail limbs in frustration. "It doesn't help that you tied my arms and legs up. Honestly."

She returns your look, almost clueless. "It didn't have to be that way! You kept trying to escape!"

"I wonder why!!"

An annoyed groan. You can't even tell if it was from you, or her. Maybe both.

...

...

"...I told you I can't," she mutters softly. Not when she started a war.

You scoff and turn away. "Not that you can't. You won't."

Jinx does not reply.

Then, she chuckles. "Still amazin'. All this energy, even in starvation."

...

You press your lips together. Truth be told, you're barely holding it together. You're simply not giving up. Even if it's out of spite. Especially.

She starts walking. The sound of her booted footsteps grows fainter and fainter until, finally—the exit closes.

Jinx left you.

Nothing else accompanies you but the quiet humming and faint lights in her hideout.

Your body seizes the chance to collapse, eyes closing in one blink.

...

The next time you wake up, you grudgingly rub your eyes. A yawn escapes you.

You stretch your body. Your joints pop, relief spreading all across—

Wait.

You sit up from the softest surface you've ever been on in a while. It takes a moment to clear your vision, but once it does, you fall in disbelief.

Lifting your hand, you eye your wrists suspiciously. The patterns of the rope is still visible. But faint. It must have been a while since they were removed.

The chair you've been stuck in for days is gone. Your limbs are untied, finally fucking free from the numbness. A small fan offers a refreshing breeze next to you.

Your heart starts racing.

A whiff of your favorite scent. You perk up.

There's a glass of water filled with ice on the table. Beside it, an irresistible array of food. All your favorite types.

You don't even think twice.

either u try to escape or eat the food—your choice. do both tho cuz u might idk die

[lexxiie]

Can I request something like falling asleep on the four apostles (Nathaniel, Kageo, Aliepde, Thaddeus) + Raphael???

Thanks again! Really love all of your headcanons 💕

FALLING ASLEEP ON THEM

Hello anon! I must admit that while I like Kageo as a character, i don't have a crush on him like I have for the rest, which makes it hard to write for him. As for Raphael... ANON, HE DOESN'T EVEN HAVE A FACE YET!!!! So here's the deal. I'll wait till the reveal cause I just know I'll like him, and then I'll update all my killer peter posts to include him.

Fandom: killer peter

Featuring: Nathaniel, Thaddeus, Alipede.

Nathaniel

He met you a couple of weeks ago, and felt completely mesmerized when he saw you, he just had to ask you out.

He first invited you to have dinner with him, and the date went pretty good. You mentioned that there was this movie that you really liked and he said he’d never seen it, so after a couple of dates, he decided that it would be a good idea to invite you to watch it at his apartment. You said yes.

He made popcorn and door dashed Chinese food. The date was going smoothly, and the movie was so good that he initially didn’t even realize that you had fallen asleep on his lap.

Oh.

He had never seen you like this before. If he already thought you were beautiful awake, this might just be the most wonderful view he’s ever seen.

The doctor couldn’t help but caress your face as he watched you, now having forgotten about the movie. Nathaniel felt moved that you trusted him enough to fall asleep with him. He spent the rest of the night wondering if you would still like him this much once you got to know all of him, the good and the bad. Soon after, he fell asleep as well. You both woke up till the next morning, still together.

Alipede

He doesn’t get along with work mates. He doesn’t like them, he avoids to have any sort of contact with them.

So why in the world is he allowing this?

You were both on a mission, and the heavens know he hates team work, Raphael knows this, too. He doesn’t need anyone, in fact, other people get in his way when it comes to work… or anything, really. Which is why he can't understand why you were assigned alongside him.

Just like always, he was right. Nothing can work out when he’s with someone else. The plan was to retrieve a document from a building without being seen, but it started raining. John decided to not risk it and wait till the rain was over so that he could regain his senses fully. You both hid in an alleyway nearby to wait.

Not even an hour had gone by and you were already asleep. You unconsciously laid your head against his shoulder and he wanted to push you so, so bad but for some reason, instead of doing so, he accommodated his body so that you wouldn’t be in such an awkward position.

Now here he was, caressing your hair, realizing how stupid this all is and wishing he could’ve come here alone... but you smell so nice, and your hair is so soft, and your skin is so warm and your breathing-

And it stopped raining. But for reasons he doesn’t understand, he waits a little more to wake you up.

Thaddeus

He liked you. He really did. But whenever he was around you he felt the need to act "normal." Thaddeus just assumed you didn't feel the same way, and he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

His plan was to never make a move and keep acting cool until his feelings dissipated. Yeah, it was a good plan. It was a great plan.

"Would you like to have lunch with me?" He asked you, immediately mentally reprimanding himself for ruining the plan. He fucked up, didn't he? You seemed quite taken aback. The killer attempted to make it less weird, "you know, cus it's getting late and we haven't eaten and all, but I can go on my own if you aren't hung-"

"I'd like to go." Great.

You both found a food stall nearby and walked through the little town you were sent to while you finished your food. At some point, you decided to sit on a bench to watch the sunset, and before Thaddeus realized, your head was resting on his shoulder. Suddenly, the mesmerizing view of the sun disappearing into the sea was nothing compared to you. And nothing could compare to the feeling of your body against his, so calm, trusting him enough to fall asleep on him. He didn't want this to be the last time. Fuck the plan.

MASTERLIST

[tako-cafe]

Azul ED HCs

Idia's post for part 1

As the title says this is dealing with eating disorders so read at your own risk. This is also my own interpretation of the game content. You could and might read these lines in a different light, but this is how I see him.

Start with what I think he has: Anorexia. Through the events, card and homescreen voice lines, and main story it is clear he limits his calories and types of food he consumes. He has a unnamed calorie limit, exercises a certain amount daily, and does so for the sake of keeping in a certain weight he deems correct based around childhood bullying around his weight. Key reasons other than his obsession with his figure and weight are his calorie tracking to remain within a strict limit to a point of not eating even if hungry, A focus on healthy eating to a point he skips joining school events fully like halloween parties,and a limited diet ie he cut out his favorite foods deeming them unhealthy (his being listed as fried chicken). This post will go through and showcase everything I could find to back this up from game. note-will only add enough for context, look up or read game content for full stories, and of course spoilers if you haven't read these yet.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Jade mentioning Azul used to be an eater, Azul trying to hide why he isn't eating

Event: Terror is Trending

 Azul-get heartburn just watching Ruggie eat. Jade-Oh? I believe you could put him to shame if you felt so inclined Azul-Not another word. Jamil-For as little as you're eating, you've been going around eyeing everything. Is there a scheme in the works I should know about? Azul-Can't an honest businessman scope out the catering without being painted as some kind of villain? Jamil-You can't even relax on Halloween, huh?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Floyd noticing his lack of eating

Azul's Dorm card-

Jade- Ugh, what a waste. And the carpaccio we had that day was so delicious, too. In any case, I imagine that growing up in a restaurant allowed him to try many different foods and keenly develop his sense of taste. He is a true gourmet.

Floyd-Then he should eat more. He only ever picks at his food these days.

example of his calorie limit being mentioned

Floyd-Hey, I'm thirsty. Can I have one of those drinks? We're up to our dorsal fins in the stuff.

Jade-A splendid idea. We should toast to Azul's success.

Azul-I've already hit my nutritional threshold for today, so I will pass.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Birthday Boy-

Remembering eating as a slight negative memory

..They'd tell me,"Eat some of this,eat some of that!" In Hindsight, I wish I had complained about how excessive it all was...

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Home screen Lines-

school uniform- I wish they'd label how many calories are in each dish in the cafeteria. It makes keeping count so difficult.

outdoor wear- You think I've eaten too much? Oh, no, there should be no qualms with that today, since I've burned more calories than usual.

Ceremonial robes- Maybe I should tighten my belt a little...I prefer having a tight figure.

Halloween- I'll hold back on the treats, thank you. Accepting more and more of them will only increase my calorie intake for the day.

Birthday boy- heheh For my birthday, I decided that I will eat as I please without worrying about the calories.

You brought me food again? ...Is that your way of saying I look like I eat a lot?

Tsum- This Tsum...its roundness and plushness may be cute, but it gives me mixed feelings whenever I look at it.

GloMas- The aromas of butter and sugar permeates the air...The City of Flowers is overflowing with temptation. I must be more strict with myself than usual.

Homescreen lines have a mix talk about calorie counting, restriction, and body image talk in them.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

While I didn't go and collect the lines as screenshots like the Idia post this HC was more straightforward and went over a more well known disorder than his did. Everything listed above is what I remember being in game and are examples why I think he has Anorexia.

[misc-obeyme]

Okay this is a request from @suphomiesr2l who asked for an MC who accidentally gets turned into an angel temporarily due to an accident with Solomon's experimental cooking.

So I wrote this as a ficlet with Solomon because listen... writing about him being a menace in the kitchen is so fun lol. However, I do think it would be really interesting to consider how the brothers and everybody else would react to this particular situation. So if that's something anyone is interested in, please let me know and I'd be happy to do some headcanons about it. I really like the MC-turned-into-an-angel concept, too.

So I had a lot of fun writing this!

Thank you for the request!

GN!MC x Solomon

Warnings: none other than Solomon's cooking lol

You were sitting in your room in Cocytus Hall, minding your own business, when something made you shudder. A change in the air that indicated something was not right. You frowned and left your room immediately to check it out.

You were sure you would run into Solomon at some point. You knew he was home and he likely sensed whatever you were sensing - some kind of magic that shouldn't be here.

Following that feeling of magic, you strode purposefully through the halls, making your way to where you hoped to find the source of the disturbance.

You stopped as soon as you reached the door to the kitchen. It was definitely coming from inside. And that could only mean one thing…

You had a choice now. You could either go inside the kitchen and try to stop Solomon from making whatever horrors he was in the midst of creating or you could turn around and pretend that you knew nothing.

Leaving was not the responsible thing to do and you knew it, so you sighed and went into the kitchen.

Sure enough, Solomon was in there. The counter was full of… stuff? You couldn't even tell what most of it was. And everything was an absolute disaster. He looked entirely thrilled with himself, standing by the stove, stirring something that looked noxious. He was dressed casually with a pink apron on over his clothes. He smiled when he saw you.

"Oh, MC!" he said. "I'm almost done with this. Why don't you sit down and have some? You haven't eaten yet, right?"

You folded your arms and raised an eyebrow at him.

Solomon only laughed at you. "I know, I know, I'm not allowed in the kitchen," he said. "But I saw this interesting dish on DevilTube and I really wanted to try it. I figured you wouldn't mind!"

You groaned and sat down on a bar stool at the counter. "Solomon, there is a reason you are banned from the kitchen!"

Solomon waved a hand at you, turning back to the pot and giving it a stir. "Just give it a chance, I think it's turning out really well!"

"Okay, did you follow the recipe they were showing in the video?" you asked.

Solomon didn't turn back to look at you, only shook his head. "Things are always better if you leave room for experimentation."

You had to decide if you were going to actually eat whatever monstrosity was served to you or not. He seemed so enthusiastic, but you also valued your life.

It wasn't long before the dish in question was placed in front of you. Solomon was beaming, as usual, either completely oblivious to his inability to cook something decent or purposefully pretending that he was oblivious just to mess with you.

The food appeared to be some kind of pasta with a thick and viscous grey-blue sauce that had been the source of the questionable fumes on the stove. It looked like something you might dredge up from the bottom of a swamp.

"Oh, hang on," Solomon said. "Let me add the finishing touch."

You watched as he picked up some leafy green - was that darkness thyme? - and dropped it on top of the mound of pasta and sauce.

"Um," you said. "That doesn't look right…"

Because the moment the green leaves hit the sauce, a bubble of magic began to form.

"Well, it's certainly not something you would normally garnish a dish like this with," Solomon said, seemingly unconcerned.

The bubble burst. Magic washed over you. You could feel yourself changing. Your clothes became white and gold with hints of blue, long fabrics and dramatic cutouts. Your body changed, too, a sudden weight sprouting from your shoulders and a gentle light emanating from you. And there was no denying the feeling of a new kind of magic inside you.

When the transformation was complete, you sat in stunned silence for a moment. You looked up at Solomon to see the same look of surprise on his face. His eyes were wide, his mouth open a little in shock.

You looked down at yourself. There was no question that your clothes had turned into an outfit like the ones Simeon and Luke wore - the clothes of an angel. A peek to your right and left confirmed that the extra weight belonged to a pair of white feathered wings.

You gasped. "Am I… an angel?"

Solomon was still staring at you. He closed his mouth as a blush spread across his cheeks. He took a deep breath, as if trying to control himself. "I'm so sorry, MC."

You stood up from your chair and left the room. You had to see yourself in a mirror. Solomon followed you out of the kitchen and down the hall to your room. You stood in front of the full length mirror there, taking in the full effect.

There was no doubt that you looked amazing. Somehow, the outfit was perfectly tailored for you. And the wings spread behind you, emitting their own soft light. A thin halo sat above your head, casting a gentle light around you. You seemed to be glowing, all gold and white and softness with only those subtle hints of a darker blue.

Solomon was behind you, watching you, looking like he couldn't take his eyes off of you. The light blush was still on his face and he seemed uncertain about what he was feeling.

You turned to look at him. "Are you okay?"

Solomon managed to smile at you. "Me? You're the one who was changed. Are you okay?"

You thought about your response. There was something inside you now, something that you thought must be the angelic blessing that made an angel what they were. You didn't know how to use it, but you could feel it.

"I feel different," you said. "Like… there's this warmth inside me. Is this what Simeon lost? Back in our time?"

Solomon sighed and nodded. "Don't try to use it. That could alert the Celestial Realm and I don't think we need their intervention. This happened because I used an ingredient I shouldn't have. It's up to me to return you to normal."

You stepped over to Solomon and took his hands. "This is why you're not allowed in the kitchen," you said with a smile.

Solomon closed his eyes and frowned. "I really didn't think anything like this would happen."

You took a step closer to him and curled your wings around him. You had only had them for a few moments, but they already felt like they were part of you. You moved them instinctively, like you'd had them your whole life. Solomon opened his eyes and looked at you within their soft glow. There was something alight in his eyes as they searched your face.

"There's something about this that bothers you, isn't there?" you asked.

Solomon reached for you, putting his arms around your waist like he couldn't help himself. "There is no doubt that you look absolutely stunning like this, MC," he said softly in your ear. "But I very much want you to be your normal human self again."

"Well, that's up to you now, isn't it, oh witty sorcerer?" you said teasingly, melting easily into his embrace. "You caused this mess, so you'll have to fix it."

Solomon leaned back to cup your face. "I take full responsibility."

As it turned out, the effects of this particular magical accident were temporary. While Solomon was attempting to find a way to change you back, you returned to your normal self on your own after a short time.

Solomon actually stayed out of the kitchen for a little while after that. So long, in fact, that you began to think he had learned his lesson and would finally heed the ban that you had in place. This was only wishful thinking, as it turned out. He couldn't possibly keep himself away forever. But now you knew better than to even go anywhere near it when he was cooking.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[nogacheloveka-blog]

The Bad Sanses somehow ended up in the Backrooms. №9

<-Switch to Russian ver.

next 10

prev 8

This is the translation of the another post from Russian to English. I understand English, but it is very difficult for me to write in English, so I asked chat GPT to help me. I have corrected some parts, but there still may be mistakes.

I encountered an organization called "To Be Determined". It inspired me to create this drawing. In this organization, there are 6 people who trade highly nonfunctional and peculiar items. I immediately imagined it as a shop run by lost Temmies (Flowey and Bob) from different AUs within Backrooms.

I noticed that there aren't that many prepared posts about bad guys in the backrooms - maybe two or three more. A couple of weeks ago, I started a new job and haven't been drawing much.

I think these posts about bad guys will be once a week, on Saturdays.

Please wish me inspiration =)

The new rooms were similar to Level 0 in their structure. Clusters of office rooms, with and without office furniture. But now there was a pleasant addition in the form of windows. The closed door of the previous place, as before, disappeared behind them when they passed through it. Nightmer seemed calmer without the negative water supply. (Again, being able to clearly distinguish the auras of his wards was definitely pleasant)

After some wandering, Nightmare sensed another presence nearby. Within seconds, everyone heard a distant

“HOOOOY!”

This exclamation certainly wasn’t what Nightmare wished to hear, yet if these were Temmies (or something like them), then they might provide information — even though their brains seemed similar to confetti made of narcotic flakes.  At the same time, the place where the Tems might live cannot be too dangerous.

Following the sound, the group found themselves in a medium-sized office room. Soft bean bag chair (Error felt nostalgic for Antivoid) and strange objects, presumably for sale alongside an old cardboard box, occupied one corner. Something resembling Flowey danced as if trapped in an animation loop near merchandise, becoming slightly animated upon seeing customers. Two monsters dressed similarly to Temmies sat nearby. Bob stood apart, his expression frozen, suggesting he had eaten Temmie Flake.

As it turned out later, two more monsters from this group were missing, busy gathering supplies and goods for the little shop. They all seemed to come from different AUs.

Here were also computers, many of which were operational. They tried to access the Undernet and various sites. They couldn't. Instead, they entered a sort of knowledge base. A local Wikipedia or something similar. The browser already contained open tabs, but they couldn't open new ones - there was no network connection. Someone had left the browser open, he took the equipment with him. And, oh, it seemed they had found gold while looking for copper: by reading the text, they understood that the author of the notebook was making notes from this knowledge base. This was easy to understand by the style. There were about a hundred open tabs: items and entities, but mostly levels. From the amount of new information, their heads were spinning. Some levels were described in an unusual way, requiring attention to details to extract additional information. And nothing about exiting from here. There were levels-dead ends, levels-traps, but nothing about a real exit from here.

However, on the other hand, it became evident that there weren't many people in the Backrooms, and they moved individually due to the nature of how many levels was work. Almost everything here seemed to be trying to kill them. But it appeared that not even the dimension-killer could do anything against their DETERMINATION.

Temmies struggled to provide clear answers regarding humans; instead, they simply told strangers, "Temmies too pieople," and strangers treating them like quirky yet harmless folks. How could such a system work? Perhaps these humans were slightly mad. Or perhaps very tolerant towards others' differences. Either way, avoiding contact would be wise.

The presence of monsters in these places brought some comfort. The Bad Guys weren't the only ones who had a rough time. That was good. But the fact that some other monsters they encountered were distorted beyond recognition - like the Smilers - raised serious concerns. It was nerve-wracking.

While Error, Cross, and Dust were exploring the local equivalent of the internet, others used the suddenly freed-up time for themselves. For example, they tried to trade. They all had some amount of monster gold and items to exchange, which Temmies agreed to accept. Horror bought a "Strange Amulet," sweets, and some food to diversify their diet. Almond Water was certainly good, but it was getting boring, and they never tried to cook Greasy Marshmallow. Considering the amulet useless for himself, Horror gave it to Dast.

Strange Amulet ATK: 10 DEF: 10 Made from butterflies in the stomach. It smells of hopes and dreams turned to dust. Allows forming new friendships.

Killer bought numerous boxes of Temmi Flake and Flowey Seeds, several paint cans, and countless small parts of mechanisms along with some mysterious steel scraps, strange red shavings - it seemed he enjoyed them. He also tried planting grass, but Horror stopped him.

Temmie Flake Restores 1–10 HP and sanity *represented by cut yellow wallpaper soaked in Almond Waters

Flowey Seeds Restore 10 HP *represented by seeds coated in Greasy Marshmallow

Nightmare didn't particularly need any products, but somehow excitedly Temmies looked at his tentacles (too much positivity) and offered a discount. Eventually, he purchased a notebook containing maps of certain stable levels from them. Unfortunately, those maps were unsigned. Since he wasn't sure if damaging traders would be beneficial, he decided to go the honest route this time around. After all, merchants held a special status across worlds.

The group stopped at this location for a couple days to record all the information from the site that could be useful to them. It turned out that sequential exploration of levels was only possible up to level 12. Beyond that, entrances and exits from levels led randomly, and any movement scheme resembled a pot of spaghetti. But in theory, they needed to explore this entire pot to find a way home. There were levels that looked like a one-way ticket, empty, unexplored, strange, surreal, remote, and destroyed. Overall, they could work with this.

Temmies didn't mind their company. Soon returned two departed collectors - underfell!Temmie and Temmie in "Temm Armor". They were surprisingly normal compared to the other merchants and shared some information:

People here can also be dangerous just like Fallen Child of Dungeons;

Many who live outside bases and settlements are mad to varying degrees especially those who haven’t drunk Almond Water for long;

Monsters can safely trade with lone humans;

People at outposts and bases usually think rationally and may attack if they realize you are not human. But even with them, you can negotiate.

Nightmare belongs to Jokublog Killer belongs to RahafWabas Dust belongs to Ask-DustTale Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios Error belongs to CrayonQueen Cross belongs to JakeiArtwork

[thoughtfulqueerwizard]

Car architecture, car-centrism, the cities and towns being built for and designed around towns, whatever you want to call it, is so fucking anti-human

We have all this infrastructure devoted to cars, all this dead area around the spaces they inhabit that's ecologically dead, devoid of life because having flowers or bushes near highways and roads can draw animals which drivers hit, or leaves and branches fall on the streets and no-one wants to pay for or be the person to pick them up.

And yet we have so few public gardens, parks, recreational areas where people and animals and plants are allowed to exist for free and for the common good. I learned about this concept kind of recently and haven't looked into it a ton so i might be misunderstanding, but there is this concept (not in the US though) of 'common ground' or 'public grounds', essentially, area that was not closed off to anyone that people could hunt or forage or garden or play or explore in, and the fact that the closest thing I have to that right now is my local municipality owned park is a little sad. If I tried to walk in there with gardening equipment like a shovel or chicken fencing and some plants trying to set up a plot of land to farm, you know there would be someone who calls the cops, I'm probably breaking some law that says you can't garden on county land.

I want to be able to garden, and plant, and forage and walk in nature, and take pictures and just vibe when the weather is nice, but instead I've got a little plot of land that's sandwiched on most sides by roads and cars.

Leading me back to car-centric cities and the highway system. If there weren't toxic polluting machines running over and life that's clueless enough to cross the road, if we designed cities and towns to be self-sustaining, people centric spaces, with abundant garden and nature areas, maybe not so many people would have to struggle with food insecurity if they find themselves without income, they'd have public grounds to tend and garden.

Of course, the cynic in me knows the reason that cities aren't designed this way (existing infrastructure overhaul expenses, a necessary public reliance on insecure food systems for corporatism to function) but it's just a thought I had while watching Frontline PBS's documentary "Poor Kids" and seeing these kids drive 2 hours each way with their dad to work, and he needs to work so they can eat, even though there's all this empty land or farmland growing mono-culture crops that're exported and not eaten. It just makes no sense, and make me so heartbroken.

Everyone should not only have food, but the ability and space to do so if they need/choose to

[qwerty-between-the-lines]

In a sense, Nico hated visiting Elysium. It reminded him a little too much of an upscale gated community.

The houses were all like manors with perfectly manicured green lawns and all kinds of outdoor decor.

He didn't even know where Luke lived, and that was assuming Luke hadn't chosen to be reborn. He figured he'd narrow it down by looking for houses that indicated a son of Hermes might live there.

He and Will spent about half a day by his reckoning, walking the streets of Elysium, and only one house had caught his eye.

He was looking at it. A two-story red brick house with a statue of Hermes on the front lawn.

As he approached, he saw that the front door had a caduceus knocker. He knocked and hoped that this was Luke's place.

The door opened and there he was. Luke glanced at Nico curiously, before his gaze shifted to Will.

"Ah, hello Solace," Luke greeted.

"Luke," Will acknowledged in a reserved tone of voice.

"Guess I deserve that," Luke remarked in response to Will's attitude. "...and you're Nico, right?"

"Good of you to remember," Nico said. "I'll get straight to it. Your dad sent me. He wants me to get you out of the underworld."

Luke's eyes widened in surprise.

"Can you actually do that?"

"I'm a son of Hades," Nico explained. "I can get you out IF my dad doesn't notice what I'm doing. If you want to come, it had better be quickly. The furies haven't noticed my presence YET."

Luke looked a little reluctant.

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "On one hand, I'd hate jeopardize what I have here if I go back upstairs and mess up. On the other hand, I'd love to see everyone again and start over."

"You need to decide quickly," Nico urged. "I'll get in big trouble if anyone suspects what I'm doing here. I'll just say that I'm sure Annabeth would be happy to see you."

"Aw geez," Luke sighed. "You had to mention Annabeth. Well, how could I say no?"

"You really do care about her," Will observed.

"Of course, I care about her. She and Thalia are the only ones I cared about after joining Kronos. Annabeth gave me the courage to make the sacrifice."

"As nice as that is and all," Nico said impatiently, "...we really need to get out of here."

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Luke decided. "Lead the way, son of Hades."

Nico nodded and walked over to Luke's fireplace. He muttered some strange, unrecognized words and flung out his hand.

He did this a few times until something must have happened.

"This way," Nico said, getting down on his hands and knees. "I can't take you the usual ways, so I made a doorway. It'll take a lot of my power to maintain, so the faster we can get out, the better."

Will would never suggest that Nico shadow travel, and Luke didn't suggest it.

Nico couldn't have if he'd wanted to. His dad or the furies might notice if someone shadow traveled in their realm.

"Oh," Nico said suddenly. "That reminds me. You've eaten the food of the underworld."

Nico pushed a couple of pomegranate seeds into Luke's hand.

"One now," Nico instructed. "One tomorrow. After that, we'll see."

Luke nodded and crushed one of the seeds between his teeth. They crawled onward for what might have been an hour, or several hours.

Luke felt his knees starting to protest. His legs were cramping. He hoped this wouldn't take much longer.

After what might have been an hour, they reached a dead end. Nico pushed at the wall, and it swung inwards as easily as a door.

Luke looked around at the bedroom they'd come out in. His eyes widened with conflicted agony.

"Oh no," Luke choked on a sob. "Not here. I can't face her. Please. Somewhere else."

"It can't be somewhere else," Nico said. "This is where the doorway ends. Probably because you have a strong emotional connection to this place."

Luke's heart fell as he heard shuffling downstairs. He sighed, knowing he'd have to face her sooner or later.

-To be continued?-

[chimielie]

honeymoon avenue

summary: Suna x F!Reader. can't stop, won't stop, don't know how to stop.

word count: 2k

cw: suggestive at the end. drinking. par-for-the-course bittersweet suna fluff.

a/n: this was supposed to have about two more parts but who has time or energy for that. not me. just know that reader has a Backstory and is freshly brokenhearted in this for context <3

You get in Suna's car the first time you meet him.

It's a vintage convertible, painted a gorgeous deep red, your favorite color. The color of passion and dreams and strawberries at their sweetest, eaten right before they can go bad. Maybe that's what convinces you, the scent of motor oil seducing you over the side as you hoist yourself in, ignoring the door.

Suna watches you arrange yourself elegantly in his passenger seat, tilting your head back, eyes closed, lips parted to release a soft breath. He's distracted by the slight smudge of your lipstick, the shine of your teeth. He doesn't even notice your eyes fluttering open eventually, catching him staring.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Didn't mean to rob you of the chance to hold the door open for me."

"Wasn't going to," he ripostes, and walks around to get into the driver's seat. He uses the door.

You look back at the party both of you are coming from, wondering if anyone else is coming for Suna's offered joyride, but most of your friends have retreated inside. You guess it's pretty cold without the alcoholic flush that's settled over you. It's one of Kiyoomi's parties, anyway, so most of them have their own fancy cars. You weren't born into appalling wealth and you haven't amassed your own yet, instead gathering fragments of fairytales where you find them, out-the-door-by-midnight-and-one-slipper-left-behind-style.

Kiyoomi is lingering outside the revolving glass door, watching you and Suna, and you're grateful for your friend's skepticism even as you lift a hand and wave him goodbye, signaling that he can return to his guests. He's a gracious host, though his parties are selective and always hosted somewhere he doesn't have to clean up personally. He offers you a slight smile that you can see even from this distance, and dips his chin in return. He's your voice of reason right now, has been for the past week at least, and if he didn't trust Suna with your life, you wouldn't be here.

Maybe it's not a smart decision, but it hardly feels like a decision at all; more like the inevitable conclusion of a partner dance, one step to the party, one to his side, quarter turn out to the car. Easy as anything.

The radio comes to life as Suna starts the car, setting a gentle soundtrack for the ride. You tap your fingers along to the tune, though the soft interior material absorbs the sound.

Suna looks over at you when the car is stopped at a light, the color red washing over your face. Your eyes shine with it as you make eye contact with him, holding his gaze. He watches you right through the green light, puts his foot on the gas without looking at the road.

"You get in cars with strangers often?"

"Don't you start," you say, and with a smile on his lips at your tone, he turns straight ahead. "You're the one to blame. You're sober and you offered a drive." You purse your lips. "...You are sober, right?"

"'Course," he says, "I'm not allowed to drink."

"Good. You play volleyball?"

"With the best of them, babe," he responds. "I don't really like drinking, anyway. Sometimes I get high on the off-season."

"Sometimes?"

"Often." He grins, because the way you say it, the way you laugh to say I knew it without words, you sound like you've known him a thousand years already. You might not be smart for getting into his car, but he's getting the sense that you're wise. "You drink."

A statement, not a question. He saw you downing shots like you were trying to burn a bad taste out of your mouth. He could probably light your sweat with a match.

(The image of you, sweaty, glowing under candlelight, your royal blue dress slipping off your shoulders comes to mind.)

"I do whatever," you say, though that hasn't been true since college. Since—

You shiver, and you didn't think he could see you now, but he cranks up the heat, even as the wind is blowing the hair back out of your face.

"Anywhere you want to go?" He asks. "Home?"

You make a face.

"It's so early," you say, and it's eleven at minimum. Oh, yeah, you're his kind of girl. "Take me somewhere beautiful. Drive me into the sunrise."

"Oh, she's a poet," he teases, but you brush him off with a gesture, smiling so that he sucks in a breath as he steers the car sharply into a U-turn. Osamu once told him, after he met his now-wife (and got the balls to ask her out after months), that he'd know after five minutes.

Know what, Suna had asked, sardonic as usual. Osamu had held his shoulders and given him a severe look, demanding to be taken seriously for once.

That you want someone for real. Maybe not for ever. But you'll know that after the first date.

He thinks about taking you to the bridge, but he doesn't know how steady you are on your feet after a few drinks. Not yet, anyway, and he's not keen to learn if you tumble into the gorge.

"Do you live in the area?" He asks, and you nod. He rules out all the destinations, then, nothing touristy.

In the end, he drives in circles around the main streets of the city until he sees the glimmer of lights in a window. You take his jacket, folded in his backseat, without asking.

It's a bar, sort of, a late-night dessert shop serving drinks that probably have more sugar than alcohol.

The front is bursting with flowers, pink and green dominating the setup, but they seat you in a backroom, barely bigger than a booth, and there are a thousand little lights dripping down the walls. You're in higher relief now than in the street, and he drinks in the gold mantling your skin, your hair.

You make him sit down first, then corner him in, sitting next to him instead of across the table. He shifts a few inches away, but you only follow.

"What is that?" He asks, and watches your confused gaze dart around.

"What?" He takes a moment before he explains himself, dipping his head 'till he's close to your bare neck, taking in a deep breath. His own scent is mixed in with yours, clinging to your stolen outerwear.

"Your perfume," he says, both of you holding preternaturally still. "I like it."

"Thank you," your voice drops, barely audible. Under this guise he leans in further still, listening so, so closely. "Are you sniffing me?"

He shrugs and sits up, and now you follow, the face of a sunflower turning towards the sun. "You'll find no shame here."

"Annoying," you snort, and his gaze drops back to your lips. "Does that work?"

"Does what work?"

"Smelling random women. It seems like a move."

"I'd never move in on you," he denies immediately, knowing his smug smile is giving him away. "In fact, you're the one moving in on me. Getting in my personal space—"

"As if that wasn't in my personal space," you interrupt, though he ignores you.

"Sitting next to me in the booth. I'll let you know now, I can't be wooed."

"Oh," you breathe, and seem to wobble a little bit, putting a hand on his shoulder for stability.

"You okay?" He cups your face, trying to check your eyes. Shit, maybe you're more incapacitated than he thought.

"Yes, thank you," you say, expression suddenly sharpening. Before you even open your mouth, he realizes he's been played. Your voice turns low, husky. "I'm not trying to woo you, Suna. I'm trying to seduce you."

He can't help the noise he makes at that, choking on a gasp. He was expecting it, but it’s more than he thought it would be, more than he was ready to feel. You trace a finger around his wrist, his hands still holding your face, following the line of his forearm up and up and up and curling a hand around the back of his neck.

You linger like that, and he watches your eyelids flutter, coming so very close to closing, the way they would if he just leaned forward a fraction. If he would just bring you up to him, taste the fruit, lick the balm off your lips.

"Good things come to those who wait," he says instead, so close to you you think you feel the words burying themselves in your skin. You take in a deep, ragged lungful of air, and when you look away from the smirking slash of his mouth you find something softer in his eyes. Too soft for you, something you could sink into and get lost in and not be pulled out. He won't kiss you, but he's still holding your face.

A retort comes to you—you're tired of being good. But that's a dynamic you don't want to enter. You lie outside the tired dichotomy of good girls, bad girls. You chortle to yourself at the drunken thought.

"You snooze, you lose," you wriggle out of his clutches, the air suddenly very cold when his touch can no longer be felt.

Give me another chance, he almost says, but no matter how the words shape themselves in his mind, they come out pathetic and all wrong.

"Slow and steady wins the race," he counters. "’Less I’ve been disqualified.”

You hum noncommittally and take a slurping sip of the dregs of your drink.

"That was all sugar," you comment eventually, breaking the silence with a little bit of rasp in your voice. "You like it sweet?"

Suna's limbs suddenly feel heavy, sluggish. There's a smear of red on your chin, where a stray drop was wiped away but left a food-dye residue, makes the effect of your face split into a wry grin all the more striking. He blinks stars out of his eyes.

"And a little sour," he whispers, bitterness already coating his tongue. It's not so unpleasant, citrus bursting with the promise of candy on the horizon.

"I can do that," you say, an admission tempered by the way you sweep out of the booth, offering him a genteel hand to help him on his way out too. Sweet-tart, he thinks, and doesn't let you have your hand back until you get in the car.

The sky is the peculiar shade of night between purple and blue, preparing to lighten by dipping into its darkest moment. It could go on forever. Your head lolls back after you tell him your address, too familiar with the streets to bother observing their passing. Instead, you chase the stars.

"Wait here," he tells you when he parks, and you watch him tuck a hand into his pocket as he crosses to open your side with the other. He bows, mocking, for you, and you fake a stumble in turn, falling neatly with a hand against his broad shoulders, chest to chest. His smart mouth fails him again, just like it did before, as he looks at you with burning electrum eyes. The little that's still intoxicated of you wants to ask what color they are exactly.

Your sober self has more pressing questions.

"The walls of my bedroom are the same shade as your car," you murmur, and he looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes, waits for you to make the leap. He's already caught you, after all. "You wanna see?"

"Love to," he says. "Drive me into the sunrise?"

You kiss him before you even cross the sidewalk to the front door. An improvisation in the choreography, you think dizzily, as he dips you down. Waltz up the stairs. Easy as anything, you loop your arms around his neck, let him lay you out on your bed. Take you to the end of the road.

[qqueenofhades]

Gonna go ahead and enable you.

Fivan, Any Continuity, Lost in the Forest (and Ivan won't admit they're lost)

HAPPY PUMPKIN SPICE SEASON

Amusingly enough, someone also asked for this same prompt last year. Apparently, what the people need is The Terrifying Ivan Sakharov Getting Soundly Beaten By Trees.

"Vanya," Fedyor says dubiously, when they have made yet another circle of the thick dark undergrowth, cast out in search of any nearby heartbeats, and have been finally forced to admit that they can't hear, see, or sense anything except the empty and forlorn howling of the darkening wind. "I think we might be lost."

"We are not lost." Ivan angrily brushes a thicket of dead pine needles off his kefta and glares at the glowering wall of trees, as if this is entirely their fault. It's definitely not his. He and Fedyor have only been fully-ranked Heartrenders for less than a year, and now that they have earned their stripes, it is apparently their job (horrible) to take their turn in teaching the younger cadets. They have therefore been put in charge of two dozen aspiring Corporalki, the oldest of whom is eighteen and the youngest is ten, and taken them to the wild woods outside Os Alta to practice their tracking, hunting, and survival skills. All of this land is owned by the tsar, and nobody else is allowed to set foot here on pain of death, so it's become as tangled and thorny and blackened as any Dark Forest in a fairytale. Ivan half-expects to see Baba Yaga leering back at them from the branches.

"Kirigan is going to kill us," Fedyor mutters, as if that's something either of them don't already know. This entire situation was incredibly avoidable, because strictly speaking, Fedyor and Ivan are not supposed to leave the oblivious youths to just fend for themselves. But after a day of drilling them hard, they were interested (ahem) in other kinds of drilling each other hard, and therefore snuck away from the campsite for a bit of private consultation. Now, after full dark has fallen and they've been distracted enough to lose track of time, they've forgotten which way they came from or where to return, and they have nobody to blame but their horny, horny selves. "And if we're lost, we're supposed to stop moving. Sit down and wait for -- "

"I said, we are not lost." The only thing worse than getting caught sneaking off to have furtive sex with his boyfriend (who he has only recently admitted is, in fact, his boyfriend) would be losing their bearings and having to get rescued by the hapless juveniles they have already callously abandoned to the mercy of the wilderness. You'd hope that two dozen Heartrenders, pipsqueaks or otherwise, could avoid getting eaten by wolves, but Ivan doesn't trust children in the least and therefore has his doubts. Even more, if the cadets find out that Ivan Sakharov, already more feared in the Little Palace than battle-hardened warriors twice his age, committed this blunder --

No, no, no. Nope, no, not happening, no. Ivan glares one more time at the trees, ordering them to part (can you Heartrend a plant? He doesn't think so, but he's tempted to try). They don't. He stands still and listens hard. Nothing. No sound. Anywhere. Saints, those infants haven't already gotten devoured, have they? Just think of the paperwork back at the Little Palace. Terrible.

"Vanya." Fedyor tugs on his sleeve again. The situation is genuinely ominous, but he seems to be biting a smirk. "We might have to huddle for warmth again, eh?"

Truth be told, Ivan doesn't mind that part of it, if only he could be assured that nobody, ever, would find out about this. He ventures a few steps into the thicket, then stops short when it quickly becomes too infested with gorse to continue. He kicks at it a few times, which fails to do anything except make his foot hurt. He snorts, steps back, briskly brushes his hands off, and announces curtly, "Well, it's definitely not that way."

"One must respect the serene natural beauty of His Majesty's Ravkan kingdom," Fedyor piously intones, sounding exactly like the Apparat at his most insufferable. "Those who kick bushes are frowned upon by the Saints."

Ivan throws him a dirty look. "Why do I like you, again?"

"Because I put up with you." Fedyor snuggles closer, still obnoxiously untroubled by the prospect of having their reputation ruined for at least the next ten years. "And I'm also very cute."

(Ivan mutters in a deeply disgruntled fashion. He cannot deny it. Teach him to get into an argument with Fedya. He's already well aware that he will never, ever win.)

[wenamedthedogkylo]

Idk if I'm gonna be able to put this in a coherent way rn, but to me it is incredibly fun and interesting to see all the different takes from the fandom on the fictional theology of Exandria, because that seems to me to be much more in line with the point of this campaign. Like to me, whether or not the endgame is to have the party save the gods or help get rid of them is completely irrelevant. I get why people are hung up on that, but I think that focusing only on what the tangible outcome will be—focusing only on what the party will actually end up doing—is missing the point.

The way I see it, the discussion itself of whether the gods are worth saving or not is the point or the theme. We know that the cast all kind of agree upon themes they want to explore before starting a campaign, and this is a pretty hefty one to tackle, but it's a very important one because it's generating conversation where there might otherwise not be any.

There are some pro-gods takes that have me—as someone who personally has had almost exclusively terrible experiences with religious people and certain gods—instinctively recoiling and shaking my head. But there is also validity to the takes that a lot of the anti-gods rhetoric coming out of the NPCs especially is of a very particular brand that most of us dislike almost as much as we dislike proselytizers and zealots. All of those angles being discussed in tandem, that is the point more than anything else as far as I can tell.

In fact, if I were to guess at what theme or point is being presented here, it's that this is not a simple topic and allowing one person or even a single small group of people to decide something as monumental as this for the whole world is categorically insane and unjust. The point is to get people thinking critically about their relationship to faith and gods in conjunction with understanding the relationships others have as well, and to work together to find a solution that is more amicable for everyone involved rather than a solution that makes assumptions for others or only caters to one set of beliefs. It's to understand that one voice should not be heard louder than the others when the fate of millions is at stake. Whether that one voice is the zealotry of Vasselheim or the zealotry of Ludinus Da'leth, because zealotry in ALL its forms is toxic and destructive.

It's not about "are you pro-god or anti-god." It's about "one person should not get to decide the fate of everyone in the world, and one set of beliefs should not get to reign supreme and control everyone's futures." And while I personally lean more in the direction of being anti-god, ultimately I don't care whether they all get eaten or not, or which route the party goes down or even if they find a different route entirely. What matters is that they, the people of Exandria, and the people watching this show all need to grapple with this together and come to a better understanding of one another, so that they can then work to topple any factions which seek to impose a singular world order on everyone else.

Again idk if any of that makes sense, but that's my take on it at least. And that's not at all to discount anyone's personal feelings about the plot or how it's going either! Good fiction makes us wrestle with things in a space that's safe to do so, and we're all wrestling with this together. Just hopefully this will give a slightly different perspective that maybe some people haven't thought of yet.

[sup3rsp0r3]

So yknow how I just said I would do writing dumps? Yeah well uh

It was weird really. Everyone saw it, but no one ever commented. Why would they? He was obviously not from here, he wasn't used to the customs of Teyvat.

It made Albedo ����𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺 curious. He needed to know what it was that made this man tick. Why he never spoke unless he had too, why he was so set on helping everyone, even if they hurt him, why he was so good natured no matter what people did to him. It was driving the chalk-man insane.

He had to know. He had to know why that pretty blonde would swat at the air around his head when nothing was there, why he would act like he could see things others couldn't, why in the name of the 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴, was he able to summon stars at his will? He didn't do anything with them, he just looked at them. He stared so longingly at them, like he yearned to be near them. Like he was familiar with them.

It was always the same pattern of stars. The same little constellation. Sure, he looked at it from different angles, but it was always the same set. Why were these little stars so important to him? Why did he smile so fondly looking at them one moment only to look away from them with glossy eyes the next? He held such an obvious connection to these stars, but why? They really didn't look like anything in particular. It was just a small set, some simple stars that really weren't anything special.

This guy would drive him mad.

This traveler from another world, the Honorary Knight of Favonius, The Hero of Liyue, The Enemy of Eternity, Captain of Swordfish II, The First Sage of Buer, he was renowned and loved all around Teyvat, he had impossible strength for a human, he had the prettiest of eyes- What in the world? What kind of thought was that? Albedo felt mad. He must've been. He had to be.

Oh Archons, not right now. A familiar high pitched voice rang through his cold lab, and in sauntered the man of the hour. The traveler himself. He always had such 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 timing, didn't he?

"What can I do for you, traveler?" Albedo asked, scanning his eyes over the man. Of course, Paimon spoke for him. "Well, Sucrose had said you might need help with something! We haven't spoken in a while anyways, so the traveler decided to stop by!" Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. It was loud, piercing, how in the world did the traveler spend so much time with her? Another mystery of the man. His ridiculous tolerance for all things agitating.

The man in question stepped closer, running his hand along one of the book cases. When he spoke, his voice was comforting, calming, like honey in tea, like an experiment going perfectly. "Well, that and, Lisa says you borrowed a book a while back and haven't returned it. Is there a reason for that?" Of course, playing errand boy again. Albedo turned, skimming over a pile before picking up a book with a red cover. "It's this one." He said, smoothing his thumbs over the top. The traveler took the book, securely sliding it into his bag. "Well, thank you! Now miss Lisa won't come knocking at your door! Er... Uh, cave... wall?" Paimon said, settling a hand near her face. She floated around the traveler, reminiscent of a rather annoying fly. Although, Albedo did wonder how she flew so easily. It didn't make sense, she didn't have a glider, she didn't have wings, she didn't have any obvious magic, so... How did she do it? A mystery for another time he supposed.

"Have you eaten yet? It's getting late." Albedo said, surprising even himself with the proposal. Paimon's eyes lit up at the idea of food. She was quick to volunteer the traveler to hang around for a while.

Albedo whipped up some quick food, something hot. Pain in finished hers, then ate at least half of the travelers. He decided not to comment on the two's weird dynamic. Albedo's eyes caught on the traveler, the way his eyes were suddenly a bit dull, like he wasn't all there. Was he zoning out? The little episode didn't last long, only about three full seconds. As soon as the man snapped out of it, he pressed his hand to his neck, seemingly making sure there wasn't anything there. "Are you alright?" Albedo asked, hoping the man wasn't reacting poorly to the food. The man in question nodded, finishing his plate and setting it on the stack with Paimon's and Albedo's. That was... Odd.

After some idle chatter and a few thanks, he was gone. He looked so pretty, sitting there, eating the food Albedo had made him. It was a nice change of pace to the man's usual feist.

Where did these thoughts keep coming from?

He never got to run his experiment.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

hello~~~ i'm your secret saturn for the jeffffffffest event!

i have a couple of ideas for your gift, but first i want to ask a couple of clarifying questions so i can be sure we're on the same page:

In the Ghost MV, the Jeff we see as the soldier - in my head i've always called him the General, and have him marked as such in my notes. Is there a name you prefer for him, or will i stick with the General?

I know you left the DNW section blank, has anything come up that you think you would *not* want in it? if you do think of anything even after this, feel free to just sort of throw a post on the dash and i'll keep an eye out for it 😆

(btw in the middle of writing this i had a sudden lightbulb moment and now im so freaking excited to write this!!!!!!!!)

-🪐

ANON DARLING IM SO SORRY I FORGOT!!! I got this while I was in class and I kept trying to answer, but I was afraid of someone looking over my shoulder :' ) It got eaten by my drafts

I don't have any particular name for that character; I think I tend to call him Commander bc I like the sound of it, but honestly? I have no idea what his actual position is supposed to be?? I've also used Scientist, Officer, and straight up just Husband lmao, so whatever works for you, works for me!

I have no idea what to put for a broad DNW @_@ Honestly, I can be into anything if the writing is convincing enough/makes sense within the universe! I know that's not particularly helpful, but if you had specific concerns you could always ask about those? I also haven't formed too strong of opinions about the characters yet, the way I do for ships like KimChay. So I would say skim my ao3 for the kinds of things I tend to write, and that might give you a better idea? I will say I don't love first person PoV, unless it's an epistolary-style sections, like a letter or a diary.

I'm so excited to see whatever it is you've come up with, and again, I'm so sorry for not responding!!

Edit: actually, since you specifically mentioned the Ghost MV - don't make the Wife a jealous harpy? I'm fine with her being cold/morally gray/straight up evil, given she is a seemingly willing participant of the unethical experimentation going on. And I love playing with the dynamics that could exist between all three of them, jealousy included. But I guess I don't want to see her as an obstacle to the ship/made into a caricature. Idk how to explain it, but just. The thing that tends to happen to female characters when they "get in the way" of a ship, y'know? Whatever else happens between them all, she loved them, and they loved her. It was just ComplicatedTM

[endlessnightlock]

For horror prompts: 16. Vengeance (or) Unseelie Court

Vengeance 

from 31 Horror Prompts

So, I've wanted to write a follow-up to Why Is The Window Open? for a long time. If you haven't read that story, this outtake won't make much sense to you. Reference to previous non-con, dub-con as well.

Adult subject matter/horror under the cut. 

It’s taken Katniss a long time to shake off the trance formed by shock and despair she’s existed in since the night the angel of death, otherwise known as Peeta, took her away from the life she’d known and dropped her off on this mountaintop he called home. Not that she could have stayed in the village any longer. Peeta burnt down the meeting house and every cabin in the place, save one, to the ground. Her world turned upside down and dumped her out on the ground, pregnant with the spawn of the devil and forced to deal with the sick desire he awoke in her. Fatherless, motherless. A sister she would never see again.

For a while, she lost her mind. The events of that night were more than her fragile brain could handle. Memories of her father's unjust punishment at the hands of Snow. His death must've been horrible, torn limb from limb the way he certainly was. And the fire that burned her village and everyone in it to the ground.

Her captor and provider and protector is evil incarnate. Peeta is ruthless, cold, and unfeeling. He tells her he loves her but she knows he doesn't really. He doesn't know how to love. She simply fascinates him like a new toy. That's all.

But Peeta is all she has left. Without him holing her up on this mountaintop, she would be alone. Vulnerable, wandering through a world in which she's unequipped to survive alone.

It would be easier if she were alone, Katniss decides, placing her hand over the swell of her belly. She might even let the Walkers take her if it weren't for her child. Although that’s ridiculous. She could end her life just as easily by throwing herself down the mountainside. The rocks would be less painful than being eaten alive by zombies.

Except for Prim. And the Odairs, Katniss reminds herself. She's unsure why Peeta did that for her, sparing her sister and the only people in the village who refused to participate in her trial. It puzzles her, because it’s not enough to make her happy with him. He seems to care very little if she is happy. He still gets to have her, and willingly, because she is weak and above all craves something that makes her feel alive living with the harbinger of death. 

She would like to tell herself she lies with him because he forces it on her, like the first time. Unfortunately, Katniss hasn’t learned how to lie to herself. When he looks at her that way, she goes to him, willing, eager for his touch.

If only she could sink into the oblivion sex provides, permanently. Remain blissfully unaware of what she’s become. Unfortunately that’s not possible. Now that she’s awake, she’s awake.

But lucidity has brought with it a renewed purpose. Revenge. Katniss doesn’t know how yet, but she will get back at Peeta for what he’s done to her. Her family. The world. She will destroy him and she will find great satisfaction in it.

She touches her stomach with the baby shifts inside her womb, a knee or foot or elbow seen moving beneath her tightly stretched skin. It won’t be much longer now. Once the child is born, then she will act. 

This is the part that always trips her up. How? But there has to be something she can do to stop him.

“Katniss,” Peeta murmurs, distracting her from her thoughts. He’s standing before her, a skin tied at his waist and nothing more. She looks up into his deceptively-beautiful face, and forces a smile. The fluttering in her abdomen should be revulsion. They both know it’s not. 

“Come here,” he says, taking her hands, pulling her to her feet. She watches, mesmerized, as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumbnail lightly trailing behind her earlobe, down further, settling between her breasts. “I want you.”

[agentravensong]

Something's up with Kris's knife

I was thinking about DeltaRune this morning, as ya do, and happened across a thought I don't think I've seen anyone else bring up. TL;DR Kris's knife might be somehow magical and have the ability to dematerialize and be summoned by / teleport to Kris. Evidence and theorizing below the cut.

Chapter 1 ends with Kris pulling the knife out from... their pocket, presumably, to prank us:

(notably, their back is turned to us when they do this)

Chapter 2 starts with Toriel bringing out the knife on a plate as evidence of Kris having eaten the pie overnight.

She then leaves the room with it. We don't see where she puts the plate and/or knife, though her line about maybe having to lock up the oven to stop this from happening again could imply that she puts them back in there. There's no chance given for Kris (while under player control) to find and take back the knife, either before leaving the house or in the evening when they return with Susie and she starts baking with Toriel.

And yet, at the end of Chapter 2...

There it is! In their hand!

In fact, we know they got it back before sitting down on the couch with Susie, even before going into the bathroom and removing the Soul so they could move on their own, as long as we're correct in assuming that they were the person who did this:

So. Uh. Where'd they get it from?

There are a few options here I can think of. First, it could just be a small oversight/plothole. Toriel's line calling out that it's specifically Kris's knife makes me less inclined to believe it (especially because she didn't need to point that out as proof, seeing as only two people currently live in this house and she's one of them). But, you know, it happens sometimes.

It could be that Toriel mistakenly identified the knife in the tin as Kris's when it's just one of the household kitchen knives; the likelihood of this depends on how unaware you think (DeltaRune) Toriel is.

It could be that Kris simply has multiple knives that Toriel recognizes as theirs. The one they pull out at the end of both chapters is one they always have on their person, and they used a different knife to eat the pie. However, I'd argue it would make more sense in that case for Toriel's line to be "This is one of YOUR knives in the tin, is it not?"

And when you remember that Kris's knife suspiciously doesn't appear in their Light World inventory, and doesn't appear in the Dark World or influence their Dark World fit at all... it makes it more plausible that there's something Off with it.

What the nature of that Off-ness would be, I'm not certain of. Perhaps it's worth noting that both times we've seen them pull it out, they haven't had the Soul in them? All three times if we count them slashing the tires offscreen.

Another thing that might be worth noting: when Kris gets up after making the fountain, the knife is no longer in their hand.

Did they leave it in the ground? Or did it, uh, dematerialize? Go back to wherever it came from?

If people want to take a closer look at the sprites for the knife/knives and see what conclusion they support, that'd be great! I've got other stuff to take care of today.