#i just realized its been a couple hours since i have lmao

[notthatnebula]

wait new layout idea hang on

[jazeswhbhaven]

A Successful Hunt in Heaven | React | Spoilers | Prologue

LETS GO YA'LL

First, let me say that this is completely different than Levi's Torture story and when I get a chance to read the rest of this???? I'm pretty sure it's gonna be a 10...

Cause let's jump in???

We start with the fact that MC is standing in front of a throne, everything is in white and angels are calling them Gabriel.

I was like???? AYO ARE WE GABRIEL???

It seems, that we are indeed Gabriel....

it's so good to see our angry bae again, even if he's cussin' us out

not that he can help it, we are literally Gabriel right now. but why the fuck are we????

SO it's flashback time and we're in Gehenna after a big battle. Three kings Mammon/Levi/Beel came to help out and the results were victorious.

Mammon is so that guy because if I were watching him lifting buildings with ease all day, I would. Lemonade in hand like those ladies watching the lifeguard at the pool.

So the kings are talking amongst themselves about Satan reacting to Mammon's saying of "how Gehenna is his so ofc he's gonna help" and Beel saying that Satan would headbutt him with his horns if he heard him and it's surprising that he didn't (foreshadowing??)

Mammon just loves to call his boyfriend small huh? Lol

We know Beel, you like to spy on us. Next you're gonna be randomly showing up when we're showering or something and be like HEY JUST CHECKING UP ON YOUUUUU.

My stinka boo. <3

Anyways....

Leviathan, give me one reason why I shouldn't box with you right now. One good reason other than the fact that I can't fight demons 💀

I ain't payin' you nary a cent back.

But yeah everyone starts to depart though, since the job is done and it's time for the devils of Gehenna to relax and chill!

I'm crying because I like how Levi and Beel's dynamic here is still "Ugh my dumbass best friend that annoys me sometimes" because He was getting onto Beel for being careless and making Bael work too much and Beel was like "Awh but you're closer to me :(((((" and Levi is like "Nah you got 6 other kings" skskskkskskksks And then he drags him away here? I love them your honor, their dynamic makes me crack up each time.

BUT now that this is over and done with we're at the PUB GETTIN' DRUNK LETS GET IT

Even Ppyong comments that he hasn't had a drink in a while and Sitri is over here yappin' about tea and how long it takes to brew compared to just pouring alcohol and throwing it in your mouth. Then a funny thing with Leraye happens...

I can hear him in my head and it's hilarious. Because Leraye why you sayin' it like this? lmaoooo

After being chided that he was being too damn loud in his ear and some other interactions from the other nobles, it's then realized that Satan actually hasn't been around in a while. No one has seen him in a couple days and I'm just like....wait ya'll just been doing whatever and not concerned that your King is literally not around for over 48 hours? o k

We then get Belial/Jjyu busting in the pub and saying there's an emergency meeting to talk about Satan's disappearance. Turns out Zagan and Belial noticed that Satan has been gone for a quite a while, Zagan being the first to notice and so he called the meeting. During this time when everyone is thinking of what's happening and what's going on, with MC thinking more about the "how this happened" rather than the "how can we fix this"??? There's a solution right outside the door.....

BUT FIRST

Paimon is so real because if a bead can shut up Jjyu it really does give us a reality check on how small he is lmao

ALSO POINTING WEAPONS AT THE DOOR? ITS ON SIGHT?

Oh.

oh.

That's my cat daddy right there.

I'm so happy we get to have Ronove content ya'll. And so randomly too. I wonder if we will get other Abaddon devils as a cameo in the other cards??? Hopefully? MAYBE?

So the nobles are wondering who called him there, and it turns out Zagan did.

And he was trying to say that from the beginning but since Ppyong wasn't looking at him, he couldn't translate. To which Astaroth is like "Just speak tho." LMAO

Anyways,

It seems the Abaddon devils love the thrill of danger. Dantalian also seems to love that to where he will literally put himself in harms way. But I mean I guess the devils there are just built different as they keep saying anyways.

So in order to save Satan though, someone has to go undercover as an angel. Problem with that is devils are unable to lie so if they were caught they would immediately just give up and admit they were sneaking in. But MC....

LOL this dialogue had me like??? OMG p l s. First...this is actually for once something I'd say, more in a joking sense even though this is clearly a serious moment.

I also love how Sitri was like "okay but the only thing you know how to do is lie, MC" and I was like...thanks Sitri thank you so much for your support you have no idea how much it means to me /s

But he's right, MC doesn't know how to do anything else which at this point damn we still don't know how to fight with magic or something??? Anything??

Thank you for letting us know this information Ronove. You are a treasure.

So, we end up seeing Ronove's power in action btw. How it works is that he says the words, and they work as long as he doesn't swallow.

R o n o v e

I do not need to know how you were eating food with your butt. Thank you sir. (why did I go there? Because it's a joke that's been done already in another media lmao so if you know you know) Honestly though if not his butt then probably made another hole somewhere or he ate through his dick who the fuck knows this is Hell and he's from Abaddon, anything could go.

He's so hot I'm crying. Like...I'm trying to imagine what a wet voice is and it's making me shiver in a bad/good way.

So his power is in action, he says "you will be an angel" and he pretty much spits in in MC's mouth and mixes it up and tells you to swallow. (reference my thirst post with him saying to swallow it)

So, there's no specifics to his powers. It works, but not the in way anyone would expect. This type of theme in most stories always ends up bad in some shape or form when the words are vague or broad. So yeah MC was an angel alright.....

So we were back in Heaven, and now we understand that MC is possessing Gabriel's body. I wonder if he's aware that's happening and he's internally screaming or if he's just kinda unable to do anything about it and is unconscious the entire time?

It's believable surface wise because everyone is falling for it, even Satan who was cursing and spitting on MC/Gabriel to point where they had to gag him.

Ngl, I'd have a hard time being into this "roleplay" too because he legit doesn't know it's MC so he hates them. It's kind of like a revenge mirror thing from Gabe's christmas card (i still have to do a react on that btw)

THIS????? FACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gabriel needs to make those faces more.

But the entire time MC was pretending to be Gabriel I was like "GURL FOCUS" because they kept getting distracted by Satan looking fine as fuck in those restraints and that gag in his mouth. Which I mean??? EYAH but we're here to do mission rescue. But now we about to do some

Mission I'm going to fuck Satan as the angel he hates. And I'm so anticipating that Satan is going to react and sort of like it....SO YEAH YEAH YEAH INDIRECT WAY OF CXC

I did not originally ship any of the angels with any of the Kings or Nobles butttttt after I get my hands on the rest of this card story I'll be a believer.

Funny thing though is that I did in fact get the artifact for that discounted 250 pull they give us each time and it clearly is a reference to the key from Hellraiser which is one of my favorite Horror films~

we have such sights to show you

Okay but crossover of Kings as each of the different Cenobites when? Cause I need it.

[pedrospatch]

to hell and back l one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist l main masterlist l next chapter

summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI. canon violence, canon language, brief mentions of slavers, brutality, torture, assault, guns, reader is an archer, mentions of hunting, animal death, injured/unconscious Joel, very minor mentions of blood, age gap (reader is 30, Joel is 56) very brief mention of scars, reader does not/cannot speak at times, a lot of internal dialogue from reader, at one point reader does try to speak to Joel but she is unable. *please be advised that no specific diagnosis is used or will be mentioned, i’m writing the series with the idea that reader herself cannot fully comprehend her inability to speak at times. basically the gist of it is we have a very traumatized person who does not realize just how traumatized she is.

word count: 8.2k (good lord I am so sorry)

a/n: not a whole lot to say except for that this is...different. at least i think it is, i could be wrong lmao. this is by far one of the most challenging things i have ever decided to write, but hopefully it turned out okay

California l Fall, 2023

You’d been on the run since dawn.

It was several hours later now and nightfall was approaching—and it was approaching a hell of a lot fucking faster than you could have even anticipated. The darkness was quickly closing in, falling around you like a velvet black curtain. However, stumbling around blindly in the dark was currently the very least of your worries. 

Your feet were raw, both completely blistered and bleeding through your socks inside of your worn out, muddied white canvas sneakers. Your sore, aching legs screamed out for mercy and your knees trembled violently, threatening to buckle out from underneath the weight of your body at any given moment. 

In the week and a half leading up to your escape from captivity, you’d been deprived of both food and water—it had been your punishment for closing your eyes and turning your head away after you’d been instructed by the slavers to watch their brutal assault of the young teenaged girl that you had been sharing a cage with. She’d been unable to keep up with her work duties, and they had decided to make an example out of her.

Despite still having been forced to witness the horrendous, unspeakable things they’d done to that poor girl, your initial resistance resulted in you being beaten and then starved for several days. Occasionally, one of the late night guards would try and bribe you, offering a small piece of jerky or a couple of stale crackers in exchange for a blowjob. At first, you told him you’d rather cut your own tongue out with a rusty blade than suck his dick, but when he proposed the disgusting, vile trade again just a couple of nights later, you’d accepted it—because him pulling you out of that fucking cage after hours and removing the tight shackles from your wrists when no one else was around would give you the chance to finally make a run for it.

You swung yourself around the nearest redwood tree, slumping back against its thick, wide trunk. You covered your mouth with your two hands in an attempt to silence the sound of your heavy panting. 

Besides being in pain, malnourished and severely dehydrated, the exhaustion was starting to set in too. The adrenaline pumping through your veins had brought you this far, but exactly how much farther could it take you? How much longer could it possibly keep you going before your tired body decided to give up and give out?

Somewhere behind you, you could hear the men calling out cheerfully.

One sang out, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Come out and plaaaaay,” a second taunted.

The third shouted, “We’re gonna get you!”

Their giddiness made you want to vomit. If your stomach hadn’t been empty, you would have.

Those sick, twisted fucks weren’t letting up. 

They’d been on your heels for hours.

The large group of slavers in California were over two hundred strong and had dozens of prisoners chained up in their human cages—they had more than enough people to force into labor. There was no need for them to waste their time and efforts going after you, but after spending the last eight months witnessing firsthand how these sadistic bastards operated, it occurred to you that their desire to recapture you wasn’t out of a need for labor. It was for their entertainment. 

They were hunting you down for sport.

This was their idea of fun.

“Fuck,” you whispered underneath your breath, your hands falling down to your sides.

Something had to give.

Your legs, your body, your will to live.

Perhaps all of the above.

You couldn’t keep on running for much longer.

And even if you could, where the hell were you supposed to go? How were you supposed to get there?

You had no food, no water, and no weapon.

Just the torn, tattered clothes on your back.

You were defenseless against whatever else was out there and you couldn’t see yourself surviving longer than a couple of days at most.

There was a part of you that wanted to give up and surrender. If you could be absolutely certain that they would shoot you dead on the spot, you would actually consider it and step out from behind the tree—hell, you would happily let them put a bullet between your eyes and put you out of your misery once and for all. But they wouldn’t be so generous. You knew they would have their way with you here in the middle of this forest and only after they were done would they take you back to their settlement where they’d put you right back in shackles so the real torture could begin. Just like that teenaged girl, the slavers would make an example out of you so that nobody else in their right mind would even think about running away. 

They would be sure to make your death as slow and as agonizing as possible.  

No. If you were going to die, then you were going to die. But fucking not like that.

Hearing them draw closer towards where you’d been hiding, you pushed yourself away from the redwood and willed yourself to keep on going.

Wyoming l Fall 2024

Your eyes softly flutter open.

Bright, early morning sunlight filters in through the ripped, white lace curtains that hang over the small, square shaped window right above your head. 

Blinking the sleep away, you prop yourself up slightly on your elbows and take a glance around at your surroundings. The old, abandoned cabin that you’d stumbled across just a couple of days ago is tiny, cramped, and crumbling. It also reeks—it smells damp, musty, and earthy, like rotting wood. But beggars can’t be choosers and you are certainly in no position to be a chooser right now. It’s not what you consider to be ideal, but it’s four walls and a roof, which is more than anyone can ask for. It’s sparsely furnished with a table and two chairs, an old wood burning stove you had been too afraid to light because you didn’t want to risk setting the place on fire, and there’s even a small, twin sized bed for you to sleep on. Well, perhaps calling it a bed was a tad bit too generous. It’s really just a mattress sitting on four large concrete blocks. It’s rough, dirty, and torn with rusted springs and bits of fluff sticking out from every corner. Still, it sure as fuck beat the hell out of sleeping outside in the dirt and using a rock as a pillow.

Besides the luxury of having something close to a proper roof to sleep under, there’s also a lake just two and a half miles north of the cabin where you had been able to fill your canteen with fresh water. Not to mention, you’d also been able to bathe and wash your clothes for the first time in a couple of weeks. You had been on your own for about a year now, and this was the luckiest you’ve gotten in terms of finding a decent place to stay.

Whether or not it’s safe, it was still too early to tell. 

Sure, you were out somewhere in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and hadn’t seen a single soul, living or dead, in a couple of months now. But that still didn’t mean that running into the infected or other people wasn’t a possibility. Letting your guard down was risky. Too risky. 

You swing your legs over the side of the mattress and sit up, slipping on your pair of warm, wool socks before tugging on your boots—you’d found them over the summer and even though they had been about one size too small for you, you’d managed to break them in since then and the supple brown leather now molds almost perfectly to your feet. You stand up and lift your arms up above your head while simultaneously twisting your stiff, sore back in a painful, but much needed stretch. You’re only just a couple of months shy of turning thirty years old, but lately, your bones snap, crackle and pop with each and every movement, making you feel twice your actual age. 

The thought of it makes you snort in amusement. You should be so lucky to stay alive long enough to see the age of sixty. Hell, you’re still unable to fathom how you’d even made it this close to seeing thirty.

Dropping your arms back down to your sides, you make your way over to your khaki colored pack and pull out your aluminum canteen from one of the side pockets. You twist off the cap and gulp back a long, cool drink of water, hoping to get rid of the dryness in your mouth and the cracks in your chapped lips. As soon as the liquid makes it all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the hollow, muscular organ grumbles loudly, demanding food. You’d had some decent luck while out hunting the previous morning, capturing two wild rabbits—you had eagerly skinned, cleaned and cooked them both, devouring one right after the other so fast that it had nearly made you sick. It had been a pretty decent meal, but not nearly enough to completely satisfy your ravenous hunger. Prior to finding the cabin and settling in, you had been living off of a couple handfuls of nuts and berries for three days while on the move. You were still fucking starving and all you could do was pray that you’d find more rabbits today. 

Maybe you’d get even luckier and spot a pheasant. It was their season, after all. 

You drink some more water and set your canteen aside. You’d planned to return to the lake later in the afternoon to refill it as well as to have another bath. You pull on your faded, black denim jacket over your hoodie and pick up the wooden bow and brown leather quiver of arrows sitting beside your pack. You’d found the weapon in some hunting shop back in Utah that had already been picked clean to the bone over the last couple of decades. However, no one had even bothered with taking the bow. It hadn’t really surprised you, though. In the post outbreak world, a bow and arrow would do absolutely nothing to protect against the infected runners and stalkers—and it would do much less to protect against clickers unless your aim was flawless.

Still, a bow was useful in its own right. 

It was perfect for hunting game. It was silent, keeping you and your location concealed from potential passersby at all times. Most importantly, you could reuse your arrows so long as you were careful and didn’t break them while removing them from your kills—and in the event that you did happen to snap an arrow, all you had to do was salvage what you could from the damaged projectile and make a new one. Simple as that. 

Your father had taught you how before he’d died.

“Why bother with a bow? What about a gun?” you had asked him. 

“Might not always be able to get your hands on a gun,” he’d replied as he sharpened an edge of the small, thumb sized rock in his hand. “Or bullets. It doesn’t hurt to have alternatives in the event that you can’t get your hands on either of those things, kiddo.” Despite being in your mid twenties at the time, he’d still always call you kiddo. “Always have a backup weapon, alright?”

He’d been wise to give you that advice.

You did have a firearm, a colt pistol that you hardly have ammunition for. There were ten rounds left in the clip and with no luck in finding any more in the last couple of months, you’d decided to preserve them, saving what little bullets you had left for a real emergency. You kept the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans at all times, along with the sharp switchblade that you used to gut and skin game. As far as weapons go, you sure as hell could’ve been a lot worse off. But if you happened to stumble upon more ammunition for your gun, you certainly wouldn’t complain about it. 

Slinging your bow and the quiver of arrows over your shoulder, you grab the dark gray foraging bag that you used to collect and carry your kills in and leave the cabin, feeling somewhat confident enough to leave the remainder of your belongings behind instead of hauling them all along with you like you had the morning before. It wasn’t that you feared someone would come along and steal them. There wasn’t really anything for anyone to steal, anyway. Rather, you’d gotten so damn used to the instability and the constant moving around—you never stayed in one place for too long and were always prepared to run. But today, you decide to leave your things in the cabin, feeling certain that you would return in just a couple of hours. 

You step out onto the creaking, three step porch that’s so old it buckles slightly under your weight and a gentle breeze nips at your cheeks and nose. It’s the middle of autumn in Wyoming and the air outside is fresh, cool and crisp. Winter was looming right around the corner like a dark shadow, and although you’d somehow managed to make it through the previous year’s brutal snow season, that didn’t do much to stop you from being nervous about the one that was to come. If all went according to your plan, you’d be holing yourself up in that shoddy little cabin until the worst of winter was over and then you would move along.

To where?

You didn’t have the slightest fucking clue. 

You make a short trek about two miles south, going in the opposite direction of the lake and finding yourself closer to the thick forest trees that surrounded the base of the mountain range out in the distance instead. There’s a dried, grassy clearing just feet from the entrance of the forest—finding a single, decently sized boulder in the middle of the wide, open space, you decide that behind it is the perfect spot for you to set up and hope for the best. Carefully setting your things down on the ground, you pull out a pair of old, cracked binoculars from your bag. You lean your body over the smooth, round top of the rock and lift them up to your face, peeking through the lenses. You hope to spot something right away because it sure would be fucking nice to eat something sooner rather than later. Otherwise you might just start gnawing at your own arm. 

Diligently, you scan your surroundings for any and all signs of wildlife. 

That’s when you see it, standing near the edge of the woods.

You gasp softly as your sights fall upon the deer. 

Pulling your face away from your binoculars, you blink furiously before taking another look just to be sure that your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you. It’s not a hallucination. It’s a white tailed deer, a female, and from the look of her, she has to be at least about a hundred pounds. At least.

You try to not get too far ahead of yourself, but it’s far too late. The thought of finding some herbs and making a hot, venison stew for supper makes your mouth water. The rest of the meat could be dried out and made into a batch of jerky that could feed you for months. Months.

Then, you suddenly remember you’ve never even attempted to bring down an animal of that size before and you’re slapped back into reality.

You think about your father, who would bring home a deer every weekend after going on his hunting trips with some of his old college buddies. “You want to aim for the heart or the lungs,” he’d say as you and your siblings would watch him dress the carcass, much to your mother’s chagrin. “Look between the shoulder blade and the last rib,” he would tell you and your brothers. You’d also had an older sister, but she had always been incredibly squeamish and had a soul that was much too sweet and caring for hunting. She would always want to bring home every animal your father shot and nurse it back to health. “Somewhere between those two lies everything you need to hit in order to do the job and do it well. And for the love of god, don’t you ever aim directly for the shoulder. Behind it, kiddos, always aim behind it. You got it?”

“Yes Papa,” you’d all chime out together.

Setting down the binoculars in your hands, you reach for your bow and pluck an arrow from your quiver before stepping out from behind the boulder. You’re careful to be as silent as possible as you take a few steps closer towards the unsuspecting grazing animal. You position yourself and stand perpendicular to the deer, placing your feet shoulder width apart—you’re a little farther from your target than you would have preferred, but you don’t want to risk going any closer and scaring her off, so it would have to do. Once you feel comfortable enough with your stance, you nock the arrow and set it on the string. You then hold the string and steady your grip on the bow, relaxing your shoulders before drawing it and pulling your arm back until you’ve reached your anchor point, which is always the corner of your mouth. 

Breathe, you remind yourself calmly as you aim at the delicate spot behind her shoulder blade. Nice and slow. Breathe.

Just as you’re about to release the arrow and take your shot, the deer whips her head back towards the trees and her ears prick forward—a split second later, she darts off, zooming across the field in the opposite direction of where you’d been standing. 

Your mouth falls open in disbelief. 

“Are you fucking shitting me?” you mutter under your breath.

Frustrated, you lower your weapon and just as you start to contemplate whether or not it’s even worth it to try and hunt her down on foot, you suddenly hear something—it isn’t until the noise draws closer to where you’re standing that you realize it’s the sound of a galloping horse.

Perplexed, you squint over in the direction of where you think it’s coming from, right near the edge of the trees. Then, just a moment later, a brown stallion emerges from the woods with a dark haired man riding in his saddle. He holds a rifle in one hand and clutches the reins tightly in the other. 

Gasping, you whirl around on the heel of your boot and immediately make a beeline back to the boulder. You swing around the rock and crouch down, ducking out of his sight. You couldn’t be too sure if he’d seen you or not, but it doesn’t matter—a wave of sheer panic washes over you and you can physically feel your own body preparing itself to go into fight or flight mode. Despite having your gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans, you still haven’t reached for it and continue to clutch your bow and arrow in your hands instead. 

Swallowing dryly, you turn and carefully lift yourself up just enough so that you can glimpse over the top of the boulder. That’s when you see a second man emerge from the woods. This one is blond and he is on foot instead of a horse. He’s also armed, carrying a shotgun. 

“You’re mine you fucking son of a bitch!” he shouts. He lifts his weapon, aims, and then squeezes the trigger, shooting the horse in the side and bringing him down instantly. His rider goes flying off and he hits the ground several feet away from the dead animal, landing so painfully hard that even from a distance you’d manage to hear the loud, cracking sound his body had made upon impact.

You momentarily freeze. 

Your heart anxiously jumps up into your throat as you watch the shooter begin to approach him. The attacker moves slowly and with no haste seeing as his helpless victim is lying there motionless on the ground with his eyes closed and no idea that he’s about to die. The blond man comes to a halt just a few feet away from him, grinning as he lifts his shotgun once again and points the barrel of it at the other man’s head. His index finger hovers over the trigger. 

Before your mind and body can even make the connection, you rise to your feet and aim your bow, swiftly sending an arrow straight through the blond man’s neck. He crumples, falling to the ground writhing and squirming as he bleeds out in less than sixty seconds.

You wait it out for another minute, refusing to move another muscle until his body finally goes limp and you are certain he’s dead. Taking a look around, you make sure the coast is clear and grab your belongings, slinging them over your shoulder before you make your way over to the scene. Unsure of whether or not there could be others heading in this direction, your plan was to pick off their guns and any other useful supplies before making a run for it back to the cabin. You crouch down beside the man you’d shot and killed, carefully pulling your arrow out of his neck. It makes a loud, horrid squelching sound as you remove it and blood from his jugular splatters your blue jeans. You then pick up his shotgun and check the chamber for ammunition. 

Just like the pistol tucked away in your waistband, there’s hardly any rounds left, making it all but useless. Rolling your eyes, you carelessly drop the gun on top of his chest and move on in search of the rifle. You spot it right beside the dark haired man.

Apprehensive, you cautiously make your way over towards him. With how still he had been lying, you could have sworn he was gone—perhaps the fall off of his horse alone had killed him. But just to be sure, you decide to give his side a harsh nudge with the toe of your boot. 

He groans and his head rolls to the side.

He’s still alive.

You effortlessly string the bloodied arrow in your hand and aim it right at his chest.

Move again and you’re dead, motherfucker.

“Ellie,” the man mumbles, his eyes still closed.

Ellie?

You slowly lower your bow.

Without realizing it, a little bit of your guard lowers along with it. 

Carefully, you sink down onto one knee next to the man and get a better look at him. He’s much older than yourself, somewhere in his fifties if you had to guess. He has harsh forehead lines, deep creases in between his eyebrows, a patchy beard that is speckled with many, many grays, and wild waves of thick hair that look soft to the touch. Though some of his features are a little worse for wear due to his age, he’s still quite a handsome man from what you can see. He also appears to be in decent shape, clean and well fed, and you detect the light scent of laundry soap on his clothes. Surely, he had to have been part of some kind of group, and judging by the leather trimmed saddle on his horse, this group was one that was very well off in this post outbreak world. 

You hesitate, but then lift a slightly trembling hand and take the side of his face, cupping it in your palm as you turn his head towards you. 

There’s blood on his right temple and your fingers reach up to touch what you had assumed was the source of the bleeding—but then you realize it was a scar, maybe an inch or two in length at most and completely healed. Your fingers trail up even further and venture into his hair which, as it turned out, is in fact just as soft as one would imagine. You find a small gash on his scalp and your fingers become coated in the man’s blood.

Must’ve hit himself on a rock or something.

Your hand leaves his hair and you place it on his broad chest as you begin checking him over for any other potential injuries or wounds. Slipping your opposite hand inside of his brown jacket, you lift the hem of the dark green thermal henley he’s wearing and you discover the scar on his temple isn’t the only one he possesses—he has several more, way too many for you to count on one hand alone. You’re so preoccupied with inspecting the remainder of his abdomen that you don’t even notice the way one of his hands is slowly reaching for yours, the hand that’s still resting on his chest, right over his heartbeat.

Semiconscious, the man takes your hand in his so damn gently that it startles you and takes you by surprise, but it doesn’t frighten you. Weakly, he laces his fingers together with your own and he speaks again, uttering softly, “Babygirl.”

Puzzled, your eyebrows knit together.

It almost sounds like he’s pleading.

For what—for who? For Ellie?

Is she the babygirl he’s referring to?

Your other hand moves up to his shoulder and you give it a violent shake. 

Hey, you’ve got to get up now.

“H—” You try to speak the words, but can’t. They’re formed in your mind and it feels like they are right there on the very tip of your tongue, but when you open your mouth, they refuse to come out. You frown.

It’s happened before. 

In the spring, you’d stumbled across a small group of people while out hunting in Idaho—it was the first time you had seen other human beings since leaving California in the fall. There had been both men and women and they even had children with them, but that did nothing to stop you from panicking when they’d approached you. One of the women cornered you, trying to tell you that they were traveling across the country to the east coast. “It’s okay,” she’d tried to tell you, holding up her hands. “We’re not bad people, I promise. We’re just trying to get to the quarantine zone in Boston. I think you should come with us, honey.”

You’d been so terrified that when you’d tried to tell her that you didn’t want to join them, you couldn’t push the words out. It felt like your voice had gotten stuck in the back of your throat. That’s how afraid you’d been.

Technically, you can speak.

You’d talk to yourself often when you were feeling lonely. You would read the books you carried in your pack out loud. Hell, you even liked to sing.

But whenever you became stressed, anxious, or scared, it would happen. You’d lose your ability to speak and to communicate—not that you had anyone to communicate with except for yourself, but that’s besides the point. No matter how hard you tried to force your vocal cords, all you could get out were quiet, strangled noises. It was as if your own fears chased your voice away and during periods when you were under extreme distress, it would take several days for you to find it again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that, whenever you used your voice back in California, it only led to the harshest of punishments. 

A gunshot sounds off in the distance, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You shake the man again, harder this time.

Come on, get up! They could be coming this way!

It’s useless. He’s losing complete consciousness. 

You hear another gunshot and this one sounds like it’s coming from the base of the mountain range on the other side of the trees, not all too far from where you are. For all you know, it could very well be members of his own group who are firing those weapons out there. But whether it was his group or the other man’s group, it doesn’t really fucking matter. You don’t want to run into either one of them, regardless of who were the good guys and who were the bad guys. In your eyes, everyone’s a fucking bad guy. 

Yanking your hand out of his, you get to your feet and prepare to make a run for it. But just as you’re about to take off, the man mumbles one last time. It’s incoherent and barely audible, but you manage to catch that name again. Ellie. 

Ellie, Ellie, Ellie.

For some reason you can’t quite explain, that sweet little name bounces around in the inside of your skull. 

You chew the inside of your cheek anxiously. 

If it’s his group out there, they’ll save him.

If it’s the other man’s group, they’ll kill him.

Normally, you’d have no problem with the idea of leaving another person to die.

After everything that happened in California, you had lost your sense of humanity. Your ability to empathize and actually give a shit about other people had been long gone—or so you’d thought. But you had just saved this man’s life and now you find yourself unwilling to run the risk of leaving him for dead. And you don’t have the slightest fucking clue as to why. He’s a stranger. He shouldn’t matter to you. 

You exhale a heavy sigh of defeat.

Okay, how the fuck do I do this?

Without much time left to waste, you gather up your belongings over your shoulder and pick up his rifle, slinging the brown leather strap across your chest so the gun rests comfortably against your backside. You walk around him, lean over, and hook your arms securely underneath his. Using every ounce of physical strength you have inside of you, you start dragging him back to the cabin as fast as you possibly can.

The pretty melody fills his ears as he comes to.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high

there’s a land that I heard of once in a lullaby…”

Joel Miller isn’t all too sure if heaven is a real place that actually exists, but the very minute he hears the feminine voice singing, he can’t help but think he’s died and that’s exactly where he’s gone—because only an angel could possibly have a voice like that. So rich, so smooth, and oh so sickeningly sweet.

“Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue...”

The ballad being sung is all too familiar to him.

The Wizard of Oz had been Sarah’s favorite movie back when she had been a little girl, when she was seven years old and she still believed in princesses and fairy tales and faraway lands with yellow brick roads. Even when she grew older, his daughter continued to hold a soft spot for the film and Joel would watch it with her every Thanksgiving at his parents’ house right after their dinner—it would air on cable and Sarah would beg him to let her have her slice of pecan pie while sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his old man’s television set.

“So long as you don’t make a mess on Nana and PopPop’s carpet,” he’d warn her. “Deal?”

Sarah would beam at him and nod eagerly. “Deal!”

He’d grab his own slice of pie, park it right on the couch behind her, and together they would get lost in the whimsical world of Oz, although admittedly he’d usually fall deep into his food coma long before Dorothy had the chance to make it back home to Kansas.  

“Where troubles melt like lemon drops

away above the chimney tops 

that’s where you’ll find me...”

The words fade and the rest of the song is now being hummed.

Goddamn, he thinks.Even the humming is too fucking beautiful.

Joel feels a cold, damp cloth dabbing at his sore right temple.

Come to think of it, everything is fucking sore. 

Once, when Joel had been in his mid twenties, he had been doing some under the table roofing job with his younger brother, Tommy. It had been the hottest day of the summer in Texas, and the two of them thought having a couple cold beers with their lunch to cool off would be a good idea. The pair of them went back to work and started fucking around, goofing off like the drunk idiots they were. While horsing around, Joel accidentally stumbled right over the edge of the roof and he had fallen about fifteen feet to the ground, landing on his back on Mrs. Adler’s lawn. Luckily, he’d been okay after the fall and hadn’t sustained any serious injuries or broken any bones, but he had spent the following three to four weeks feeling like he’d been hit by a fucking Greyhound.

That’s how he felt now.

Like he’d been hit by a fucking bus. Twice. There isn’t a single part of him that isn’t pulsating with pain—his back, his shoulders, and his head. Oh god, his head feels the worst. It’s fucking killing him. 

Joel’s eyelids twitch and he cracks them open ever so slightly, just enough that he can see the silhouette of another person hovering over him. He feels a hand at the crown of his head as the other continues to dab at his temple with the cool cloth. It feels incredible against his warm skin and even sort of soothes the pain.

He lets out a small groan and the humming ceases.

Finally, he manages to force his eyes open.

Joel hears a little gasp and the bed he’s lying on squeaks and shifts. He then hears a loud thumping sound as if something, or someone had fallen to the floor. 

Although he’s still disoriented and his entire body aches with even the slightest movement, Joel manages to push himself up into a sitting position. Blinking rapidly, his blurred vision steadies itself after a minute and he glances around. He’s in a small, single room wooden cabin that has seen better days in its lifetime. Looking down, he sees that he’s lying on a bare, worn out mattress with his own jacket draped over him like a blanket. He racks his mildly concussed brain, trying to recollect what had happened—it takes him a minute, but one by one, the memories start flooding back to him. Joel had been leading mid morning patrol with Tommy when they had been ambushed by a large group of hostile raiders. He remembers shouting at his brother, telling him that he’d try and lead some of them off, away from the direction of their community. He’d succeeded and managed to pick off a few of the bastards that had been tailing him with his rifle, all except for one. The very last thing that he remembered was the sound of a gunshot behind him before his horse went down and he’d been thrown off and knocked out.

Everything after that was nothing but a blur.

Joel takes another look around the cabin and that’s when he sees you.

You’re on the floor, backed up against the wall near the foot of the mattress. Your eyes are wide and round, like a deer caught in the headlights. Your chest heaves, rising and falling rapidly—you remind him of a helpless, frightened animal that had been cornered by a vicious predator. You clutch the handle of a switchblade up against your chest with the blade pointing downwards, holding it so tightly in your hand that Joel can see the skin stretching tightly over your knuckles. 

“Who the hell are you?” He grimaces slightly, his own voice causing his head to throb. 

You don’t reply.

Joel moves onto his next question. “Where am I?”

Again, no response.

He tries again. “Are you alone?”

Silence. 

Joel takes a better look at you.

You’re young. You couldn’t have been older than your late twenties, perhaps even your early thirties although that might have been a bit of a stretch. You had that look about you, one that had become all but too familiar to him in the last two decades—the exhausted appearance of someone trying to survive in the post outbreak world. Your face is tired and worn, but somehow still soft and youthful at the same time. You might have looked a little rough around the edges, but you’re still the prettiest goddamn thing he’s seen in a long, long time. 

Joel speaks again. “Who are you? Where the hell are we?” When he’s met with complete silence for the fourth time, he raises an eyebrow, feeling annoyed. “You gonna fuckin’ say somethin’ or what?”

You can only stare at him, your fingers wrapped around the handle of your knife in a vice-like grip.

Joel frowns.

Are you really that fucking terrified of him?

Or perhaps you can’t hear?

Only one way to find out, he thinks to himself.

He raises his voice, asking once again, “Who are you? Where are we?”

You wince, your features twisting in discomfort.

Oh, you could fucking hear him, alright. 

Joel swings his legs over the side of the mattress, his movement causing you to shrink back further against the wall, almost as if you were trying to become a part of the old, rotted wood. He holds up his two hands, demonstrating that he has no plans to move another muscle towards you. “How long have I been out?”

He tries to show some patience and gives you a minute, gives you a chance to respond, but when you say nothing, he can’t help but sigh out in frustration. Just when he’s about to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be getting any kind of answers out of you, you lift your free hand and hold up three trembling fingers. 

His stomach sinks. “Three days? I’ve been out for three fuckin’ days?”

You give him a nod so tiny and so subtle that he would’ve missed it had he blinked.

“Fuck,” Joel curses, hanging his head. He begins to spiral.

What happened to Tommy? And the others? 

Did they make it out alive?

And then Ellie’s face flashes in his mind, causing the blood in his veins to run ice cold. 

What could she possibly be thinking right now after he’d been missing for three whole days? Who was taking care of her and looking after her while he wasn’t there?

He needed to get back to Jackson—he needed to get back to Ellie.

He wasn’t sure how he would be able to do that if you didn’t start talking soon and answering his goddamn questions.

Lifting his head, Joel looks over at you again. 

“You all by yourself?”

You hesitate, but then nod in reply. Yes.

Joel sighs, his tense shoulders relaxing. That’s a start. “Listen, I’m gonna need a little help here, alright? I don’t remember much ‘bout what happened. I’m part of a community. I was out on patrol with my group when we were attacked by raiders. There were too many of them and I tried to lead some of them away,” he explains. He might not have known what had happened after he’d been thrown off of his horse, but the fact that he’s in your cabin and he’s alive help him piece at least one part of the puzzle together. “Wait a minute. Did you—did you save me out there?”

Sucking in your bottom lip, you nod again.

Stunned, Joel’s eyebrows raise up towards his hairline. “You fuckin’ serious?” he can’t help but question in complete and utter disbelief. Skeptically, he presses, “But how? What happened out there? How did you get me here all by yourself?” His queries spill from his lips one after the other despite knowing most of them, if not all of them, would go unanswered.

You look overwhelmed by them—by him.

Figuring it’s best to take it one slow step at a time, Joel stands up and he cautiously walks over towards you. He holds out his hand. “S’alright,” he assures you in the most gentle voice he can muster. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

You refuse to loosen your grip on your knife, but you accept his hand and allow him to help you up to your feet. Given that you didn’t lodge the blade straight through his chest, Joel would say some progress had been made. 

He releases your hand and takes a step backwards to give you your space. He isn’t too sure if you can’t talk or simply don’t want to talk—still thinking you’d been the woman he’d heard singing when he had drifted back into consciousness, he guesses it’s probably the latter. 

Joel tries to think of questions he knows you’ll be able to answer without having to speak. 

“How long have you been by yourself?”

Shifting anxiously from one foot to the other, you hold up one finger. 

“Sorry darlin’ but that don’t really help me much,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Are we talkin’ one week? One month?”

You make a gesture with your hand. Keep going.

“One year?” He doesn’t bother hiding his blatant skepticism. “You’ve been completely alone for one whole year?”

You point at him. That’s right. 

Joel is beside himself. He’s almost in awe over the fact that you’ve survived on your own for so fucking long.

“You got any other weapons besides that knife?”

You nod over towards a bow and sheath of arrows next to your backpack.

“You’re kiddin’ me. That’s all you’ve got?”

You narrow your eyes at him.

Hey, it’s a good weapon and it saved your fucking life, thank you very much.

“Sorry. Just can’t imagine that thing would do much against a clicker. ‘Specially if your aim is shit,” Joel muses. He notices the offended expression on your face and quickly moves on. “You don’t have a gun at all?”

You reach behind yourself and pull out a colt pistol from the waistband of your jeans. You finally set down your knife and then show him that you’re low on ammunition and don’t have any more. Tucking the gun back into your jeans, you step around him and walk over to a corner where his rifle is propped up against the wall. You pick it up, make your way back over to him and hand it over. 

I believe this belongs to you.

“Thank you,” he utters quietly, taking it from you. “And I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout the gun, either. I honestly don’t think I’d be standin’ here alive if you hadn’t done whatever it was you did out there.” His eyes try meeting yours. “I’m serious, darlin’. I owe you one. I really fuckin’ do.”

You shrug, too timid to meet his gaze.

“I’m Joel,” he says after a minute, setting his rifle down. “What’s your name?”

You simply stare at him.

“Oh that’s right,” Joel mumbles sheepishly. “You can’t—” He stops himself, but he’s sure you know what he’d meant to say.

You can’t talk.

“You got a pencil or somethin’ to write with?”

You snort and roll your eyes at him. No, sorry. Silly me totally forgot to pick up a pack of pencils while I was out scavenging for supplies the other day.

Joel chuckles and holds up his hands in defense. “Figured it was at least worth askin’,” he says. “It’d be kinda nice to know the name of the person who saved my fuckin’ ass, you know.” He clocks the way the corners of your mouth threaten to turn upwards into a tiny smile at his remark. “How ‘bout a map? You got one of those so you can show me where we are?”

You hold up a finger, as if telling him to give you a minute. Digging into one of the front pockets of your pack, you pull out a large map of the state of Wyoming. It’s severely creased, as if you’ve folded and unfolded it hundreds of times. You hand it over to him and as he holds it out for you, you point to your current location. 

“Jackson’s ‘bout fifteen miles south from here,” Joel murmurs as he scans the map. Suddenly, his dark brown eyes flicker over your wrist—the long sleeve of your thin gray shirt had hiked up, exposing severe discoloration and scarring that went all the way around, marking your skin. 

Noticing where his gaze had wandered off to, you quickly retract your hand away from the map and tug your sleeve down back into place. But it’d been much too late. He had seen the mark, clear as fucking day. 

Joel awkwardly clears his throat and for the sake of not causing you any discomfort, he pretends he hadn’t seen a goddamn thing. He turns his attention back to the map. “Remember how I told you I’m a part of a community? It’s in Jackson and it ain’t all too far from here,” he states, peering up at you from over the top of the map. “The town’s gated and it’s secure. You’ll be safe there. If we head out right now, we can make it there by nightfall—”

You back away from him, shaking your head.

I’m not going with you.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Look darlin’, I don’t mean to offend, but you ain’t gonna last a whole lot longer out here on your own, especially not in a place like this with winter right around the corner. If you don’t starve to death, then you’ll fuckin’ freeze to death.”

You glare at him and lift your chin.

I’ve been doing just fine on my own, thanks. 

Having read your mind, Joel sighs. “Alright, fair enough. You’ve gotten this far by yourself, but that don’t mean you gotta turn down an offer for some help. Just come with me to Jackson—”

You shake your head even harder.

The last time that you had agreed to go back with a stranger to their camp, you’d been imprisoned. Tortured. 

Joel observes you, and it doesn’t take him very long to connect the dots between the scars around your wrists and your refusal to leave with him. His hard, stony face softens. “Listen sweetheart, I ain’t all too sure ‘bout what’s happened to you,” he says, choosing his words carefully. “But I can assure you that you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing this time around. Just come with me and I’ll prove it to you.”

You toss him a skeptical look.

“Jackson is a safe place,” he swears. “My brother runs it along with his wife and a small council. There’s families, lots of children—hell I’ve got a kid myself. Teenager. Her name is Ellie and she’s fifteen years old.”

Your lips part slightly and your eyes glimmer with something that looks a lot like recognition, though Joel can’t be too sure what had prompted it. Perhaps you’d known someone with that name once in your life. 

“There’s plenty of food, running water, electricity,” he lists off in an attempt to sway you. “It’d be a shot at a normal life. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Crossing your arms, you lift your chin again.

You’d heard that before.

Why the hell should I even trust you? Why should I trust this place is what you say it is?

Joel bites back another frustrated sigh. 

Normally, he wouldn’t bother to put up with such stubbornness. He wasn’t one to plead or beg and part of him almost wanted to give up so he could be on his way, but you had saved him from being killed. He owed you his fucking life. He had to get you to go with him. He wouldn’t give up until you agreed to go to Jackson with him. 

“I’ll let you carry your weapons,” he offers as a compromise. “Hell, you can even walk behind me with your gun pointed at the back of my fuckin’ head if that’s gonna make you feel safest.”

You squint at him. Really?

“Or that bow of yours,” he adds, chuckling softly. “It’s your pick, darlin’. Whatever’s gonna make you feel comfortable. I’ll trust you not to shoot an arrow through the back of my skull—all I ask in return is that you at least make an attempt to trust me too. I think that’s a fair enough deal. Don’t you?”

You bite your bottom lip. 

I don’t know about this.

“I really don’t wanna leave you out here all alone,” Joel says, taking a step closer towards you. He finds himself feeling surprised that it hadn’t startled you and he only hopes that means that, to some degree, you trust him already. “Please. You saved my life—and I know you probably don’t need me savin’ yours, but at least let me take you to Jackson so you can see for yourself what we’ve got goin’ on there. If you don’t like it and you don’t wanna stay, then we’ll load up your pack with food and supplies. We’ll put you on a horse and you can be on your way. You can choose to leave and no one will lift a finger to stop you, I’ll make sure of it. How does that sound?”

He waits, giving you a chance to think it over.

Finally, after a minute, you sigh and reluctantly nodd your head. 

Okay. I’m gonna try and trust you.

“Good,” Joel says, softly. “Now get your stuff and let’s head out before we start losin’ daylight.” 

[meruz]

hi!! im sure ppl have asked this b4, but i scoured your asks tag for an hour or so looking to see if you answered anything abt it and couldnt find anything, so i was just wondering if youve made any posts on your process for making n selling merch b4? and how you know which franchises you can make merch for w/o getting into trouble w copyright n trademark stuff (hopefully that makes sense, im not sure,,,)

hi! got a bunch of asks abt merch stuff lately im gonna put it under a cut.

preface: i don't know if i'm the best person to ask about all this stuff because I'm doing merch on a strictly hobby basis LOL. I have a fulltime job which takes care of the bulk of my finances, I don't really make big quantities of anything and my main priority at cons is to just make enough money to see my friends in different cities at minimal expense. i pretty much always get a refund when i file my con taxes because my profit after all the deductions is like fucking..nothing.. lmao. So if you ultimately lose money following my advice don't blame me. OK NOW lets get into it

my process for making merch: when I have an event scheduled that I want to make merch for I start by brainstorming a bunch of stuff I wanna make. for mgscon this is what I wrote down in my sketchbook lol

i made a legend to denote which ones are actually just reprints. it gets easier to plan out merch when you already have merch. out of the new merch ideas here i actually only made like 4 of them. and out of the reprints i only reprinted like three. i also came up with like 4-5 other merch ideas after writing out this list that i actually did do. LMAOO UM. my point here is that nothing rly goes as planned.

when i get a merch idea i start with thumbnails what i want it to look like (sometimes this is based off merch ive seen before so its very realized and sometimes its really vague bc im kind of pulling it out of my ass)

then BEFORE i go into making the final art I research how I'm going to make the merch. whether its printing/constructing it myself or looking for a manufacturer. There's a lot of different places that you can get custom merch made, i used to go shopping around at local printing shops but nowadays it's really common to do it all online. For both these jet tags and the washi tape I did some of my own research into manufacturers and also asked friends for their contacts/referrals/recommendations etc. most manufacturers either have their specs/template publicly available or will give them to you when you ask. so once I've locked into a manu and gotten the specs I'll start designing the final art.

then it's sending it off and waiting! easier said than done.

i will say this process is a lot lengthier for some types of merch than others LOL. for prints... I've been doing prints for like a million years and I plan out almost none of it. I draw everything at print resolution so a week before I have a con scheduled I'll simply go through all the files I've accumulated since my last con, squeeze whatever drawings I want into standard print sizes lol (ie. 8.5x11, 11x17, 4x6 etc), and print them at a local shop. takes like a couple hours max.

how you know which franchises you can make merch for w/o getting into trouble w copyright n trademark stuff?

I mean. honestly I don't know. selling fanart is the kind of thing that IP holders kind of just let slide as long as they don't think they're losing a substantial amt of money on it. there ARE a couple franchises people avoid because they've been known to send IP lawyers after fanartists... disney is the big one and they're known for being pretty petty abt it... that's why you don't really see people selling fanart of the disney princesses at cons. ive heard pokemon will also crack down if your project seems to be making a lot of money lol, part of why i think a lot of pokemon fanzines operate on a charity basis. I do feel like the pokemon company has bigger fish to fry than someones artist alley table though so i wouldn't sweat it too much.

it's also generally considered impolite/bad taste to sell fanart of small franchises. webcomics and indie games especially if they only have like 1-2 devs who rely on the income that game makes.

I'm not a lawyer so you shouldn't consider this legal advice BUT I will say... I don't think you should let IP law stop you from selling fanart lol. especially if it's low quantities/not mass produced and you're not making crazy amts of money I think you kind of have a leg to stand on. Besides, most cases it seems like the worst you'll get is a cease and desist.

you Will notice that when people start turning their artist alley endeavors into a real business they'll generally ease up on selling fanart (the case most prominent in my mind is omocat lol). but i love fanart and thats why i will never make money and thats a promise [snake saluting gif]

SORRY IDK IF ANY OF THIS WAS HELPFUL. I've been doing merch and cons for a long time (10+ years lmao, you can find record of this on this very blog) and i think im kind of old fashioned about it. i recognize the artist alley/merch scene is a lot more demanding now than it used to be but start small at local low-risk events, online sales etc and work your way up and remember to have fun and itll be ok i believe this wholeheartedly.

its literally just layers of acrylic like any other dinky charm. I'm sure pretty much any manu that does acrylic charms could do it but this specific charm/template i did order through a group order server. they're pretty well known! heres a link to their twitter

@wheatormeat sorry for taking a full month to answer this... anyways. This is tricky because I've actually been changing up my sticker manu everytime LOL IDK if I've found one I actually love.

these ones i ordered thru an alibaba manu because I was jumping on a friend's group order to save on shipping. it was ok. they arrived a liiiitle late and printed a lil dark but i think thats kind of my fault LOL I use dark colors i always need to lighten things before i get them printed and i think i just didnt lighten these enough. otherwise i rly love the quality!

i realized i never posted these online and also this is not a good picture (the lighting in my living room sucks rn) but i printed these tmnt stickers thru stickerninja they feel really solid but they needed kind of a lot of space for the cutline. but their customer service was very nice and helpful!

these ones i got printed at washimill and i was so impressed with how fine their cutline is... pricing and quality of the sticker itself is alright they feel a lil flimsy? idk. but i do like the printing. i kind of elected to go with them solely because i was already ordering washi tape. A LOT of my manufacturing decisions are made based on how much money i can save on shipping tbh.

and thats my sticker manu reviews dont forget to like comment subscribe idk if i have one im gonna stick with forever or anything im rly indecisive. ideally id like a manu based in the u.s...? because im based in the u.s. and international shipping is pricey. but idk if i keep ordering washi tape maybe ill keep using washimill. who knows...

[marsixm]

touch wood bc im always crashing and burning on shit like this but lately ive been somewhat remembering to keep up with a bunch of positive habits ive been trying to stick to for years.

ive noticeably been off my phone, my screen time is way down from last week, and the effects are def being felt. like all the shit where i was always feeling like i had no time, well, actually i do if im not spending a bunch of time distracted by twitter lmao

i know putting it down to one or even two things is too simple but i feel like a bunch of stuff has had a domino effect lately of positive changes adding up. i no longer am hosting people i didnt wanna host at my place, its not unbearably hot outside, im feeling way more secure in my relationships, im feeling confident due to noticeable skill improvements, and all those things are compounding each other and helping me maintain a lot of baseline stuff (mostly cleaning) which is then making me feel even better and able to do more of the stuff i often put off

4 example i finally made an appointment for my next tattoo, finally contacted my apt place about fixing my washer, am actually doing my skin care routine, actually clipping the dogs nails more (tho that ones mostly on him for fighting me lmao), im trying to ease my way back into reading too

a couple changes that are helping are, for one, i changed my morning routine up so i have like 20 minutes before making breakfast to start nursing my cup of coffee while i check my computer, respond to messages, and kinda mentally prep for the day, also instead of having either pure silence im trying to fill with picking out some other youtube video or being on my phone or whatever, im trying to just turn the tv on and let it play american dad (or whatever show ive already seen a million times) which i know sounds like it should be distracting but for me its not, and i really realized that recently that of course it would feel normal to just have the tv running thats literally how i grew up for my entire childhood and adolescence- im also giving myself my specific time for listening to music and time for listening to podcasts, and for podcast-esque yt vids, again everything towards having less mental hangups while trying to get other stuff done, AND im giving myself time to actually catch up on things like podcasts (im up to taz graduation now) which is also handy for not using data in my car, i actually set myself on a 5gb/month plan and this past month i had a whole gigabyte left over! + im amble to stick to the skin care routine better, for example, bc i realized just bc its a before bed skin care routine doesnt mean i have to do it RIGHT BEFORE bed, ie when im fucking sleepy and also dont want my face to feel weird & distracting. like i can do it a couple hours before, even, esp if im not going out. also this is either gonna sound silly or totally reasonable but ever since i got back into elden ring, the feeling its giving me of facing obstacles, getting defeated, but getting back up and trying harder and winning is like genuinely doing so many positive things for my self esteem and brain chemistry right now. also timers! i love timers! having an idea of how long something is taking me, or giving myself a predetermined block of time to do something, or just to nudge me to remind me what i was up to, super helpful

anyway im kinda going thru a transitional period rn bc im improving on a personal level a lot but my social life is kinda whacked out due to communication breakdowns and one of the key people moving states this week, but at the same time im also much more secure in my ability to socialize and bridge gaps and be there for people so its a very mixed bag but im trying to not just survive but thrive right now

[sixosix]

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔: 𝐃𝐈 𝐍𝐀 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐈

( ? ) or those sweet moments as they slowly go bitter

( # ) fluff, THEN angst, everything is good before they get worse. satoru is bad at feelings! unhealthy relationship. LISTEN TO di na muli - the itchyworms while reading for plus points

( ! ) this is so vague lmao not sure if its canon compliant bc its been so long since i watched this anime, but i hope it still makes sense 😁

“i think blue suits you really, really well.”

you smother a grin with your arm as he towers over you, hands on either side of your head while he scrutinizes the loose shirt you stole from his closet. the way he looks at you, eyes so soft and sincere, makes your face warm—and it’s not from how he’s hovering so close.

with a light laugh, you push his face away with your free hand, “you’re only saying that because it’s the same shade as your eyes, you sap.”

“i never denied it,” he coos, holding the hand against his cheek to press a tender kiss on it. it’s enough to make you melt against the sheets, skin buzzing with the aftermath.

“ugh,” you tell him, because you know that he knows exactly how to make you flustered.

tender moments like these are rare, given how busy he is as a sorcerer and you with your work life. it’s only different today because he seemed to have been in a pretty good mood—enough to come over unannounced to your home.

“i could marry you right now,” he murmurs, and you almost didn’t hear him; perhaps he meant to keep it from you, and your heart flutters at the fact that satoru’s thinking of you that way.

your relationship with satoru is complicated, simply because the both of you are too hesitant to call each other something along the lines of ‘lovers’. it should fit, the way you two do, but it doesn’t seem right when you barely see him at all.

maybe it’s normal for couples. you could always ask him some other day.

for now, you let him lie down next to you and listen to how his heart beats.

on the way home from tedious hours of work, you pass by a street bustling with stalls selling various snacks and sweets that you keep buying as your wallet deflates faster than a balloon poked by a needle.

you snap pictures of all that you’ve brought, and satoru tells you that you don’t need to bribe him with sweets just to get him to come over, followed by other disgusting cheesy lines about how you’re sweet enough.

you pocket your phone and smile to yourself, smug.

the knocks on the door a few hours later work better than any alarm you’ve scheduled on your phone. with a skip to your step, you swing the door open and welcome him with outstretched arms.

before you can even get a word in, he peppers your face with kisses, cutting you off whenever you open your mouth. he laughs at your scrunched nose and breathes out, “hi.”

“satoru,” you kiss him again, your heart on your sleeve.

as the hours pass, the sweets are finally devoured and empty, and you’re a bit sleepy from the rush of seeing satoru again slowly leaving you.

the evening is slow like this, always with him snuggled comfortably against your side, eyes fluttering shut. you card your fingers through his hair, and a smile lights up his face.

“you say i don’t have to bribe you with sweets but you sure came running to me earlier,” you muse, almost absentmindedly. it doesn’t bother you; you’re just happy he’s here when he rarely is.

“no, i tel—ran here because i saw you’re wearing my shirt again,” he says. he peeks one eye open and smirks.

you glance down and belatedly realize you have, in fact, put on his shirt. maybe it's out of instinct because you missed him.

“right, of course, that’s been my secret plan all along.”

“you minx!”

maybe he just likes that you’re easy.

the thought comes out of nowhere while you’re at work, your phone lit up beside your keyboard, empty of notifications.

it’s stupid you even consider it. you shake your head, batting it off your mind.

(but the uneasy feeling never goes away.)

on some days like this one, you never hear from satoru at all.

you excused it before because you know that a sorcerer’s life is dangerous, even though you only heard him explain something about seeing something normal humans can’t.

is it because you aren’t special enough like him? is it because you don’t deserve someone as perfect as him, and he’s realizing it, too?

your eyes strain in the dark as your thumbs hover over the keyboard, almost glaring at the ‘satoru <3’ name and the messages last sent days ago.

is it really more important than what we have? you almost type, and the guilt eats you right up as tears prick your eyes and burn them in retort.

he’s only ever introduced you briefly to one friend, shoko, from a hazy night where you both are still drunk off love at first sight. he saw you from across the street and whisked you off with some annoying charm.

she was looking at you as if she pities you.

you didn’t like how she looked at you like that, because you love satoru with all your being, and you wouldn’t ever think of it as a bad thing. you never wanted to involve yourself with his friends because you didn’t want to be pitied.

but when you realize you don’t know him at all despite giving your everything to him, you get it. when you shut your phone and breathe in the cold, the spot next to you empty, you get it.

you wear his shirt. you weren’t expecting anything anymore, but the hope still stays; it’s more out of desperation.

then he comes knocking at your door, eyes heavy and dark. the storm doesn’t die down—it roars, pours, and pours, but satoru stays dry.

untouched.

“w-what—” you try to speak, almost embarrassed to be caught donning his shirt when neither of you has planned it. it makes you feel so pathetic, especially when remembering this is the first you’ve ever seen him after weeks.

“y/n, i—” his throat bobs, blue meeting the blue wrapped around your body; he looks away. “we need to talk.”

ah.

this is where your heart drops further down as if he’s come to shatter the glass you’ve been holding onto for you and him.

“don’t say it, please,” you plead, almost tumbling backward. “you don’t have the right to say anything to me when i haven’t heard from you for—where have you even been, satoru?”

“i’m sorry—”

“i don’t want an apology from you anymore,” you snap and lose a little of yourself when you watch his face falter.

to his credit, he does look guilty. but apparently not guilty enough for him to just get it over with and tell you who—or what he actually is. because right now, he seems like he was never even yours.

“…too much happened, sweetheart, and i know that—that i can’t keep making that excuse,” he adds hastily when your eyes flare. “it’s why i came here.”

this is the part where you realize that maybe you’ve done something wrong. maybe you haven’t tried to make yourself important enough for him to break down his walls for you.

this is the part where he tells you that he’s sorry. that it’s not you, it’s him. he will say it like a stranger, and he will mean it to make you feel like one, too.

you almost laugh at the nerve.

“i was going to say yes if you asked,” you tell him instead before he can begin, stepping closer as you watch in sick satisfaction when he almost trips to step back.

“say yes to what…?”

your fingers twitch where it’s gripping the edge of the door. “get out, gojo.”

satoru frowns, eyes round and pleading. urgently: “say yes to what, y/n?”

you bite your lip and turn away, trembling from the wave of emotions finally coming. “do you mean… if…” he looks horrified now, as if it was only after you said, he’s regretting pulling away.

“y/n—”

you slam the door in front of his face.

(this is normal, you tell yourself. this is what happens when you fall in love, right?

he’ll come back again.

it’s normal, and a part of you—selfish, desperate—wishes he would take it all back so you could open your arms for him and let it happen over again.)

the fic title is ‘never again’. and yeah reader meant saying yes to the proposal.

[supper122]

FROSTTALE: Master Post

Frosttale is an au I made over two years ago now, and quite a few things have changed since i made the original concept on discord. At this point nearly every character has a finalized design and the story is complete, so i think its time i made it more mainstream!!!

Opening Cutscene:

Long ago, two races ruled over earth: humans and monsters

One day tragedy struck, a blizzard worse than any before it struck the human village and the humans believed the monsters to be the cause.

The humans fought the monsters, and sealed them into a cave, using magic to curse them with eternal cold

Many monsters suffered, and more died.

PRESENT DAY:

Legend has it that a furnace powered by seven human souls could stop the winter and break the ice barrier that seals them underground

MT. EVEREST, 202X

They say those who climb this mountain may never return.

(Thingy of chara falling into the underground blah blah blah game starts)

Ok so time for the changes!!!

this au centers around everything being cold, duh.

The most major change is that undyne is dead due to the extreme temperatures, and that drives nearly every other change in the au.

Alphys found her goop stuff after she died, scooped it up and saved it. Since then has been secretly using the royal scientist funds not for technological development but in an attempt to revive undyne.

One day, papyrus is walking around in waterfall, looking for undyne in a hope that somehow, he could find her (he doesn’t know that she’s dead, sans told him she’s just missing). Alphys sees him, and sees an opportunity (he has a similar body shape to undyne), she persuades him to come to the lab, then she knocks him out cold (see what I did there)

Papyrus wakes up a few hours later tied to a table and has a couple of wires and containers hooked up to him, most notably two labeled “remains” and “DT”

Due to the fact that he’s tied down papyrus is stuck there.

A few minutes later Alphys walks into the room and tells him that he will be ok, and tells him that if the procedure works, papyrus can be part of the royal guard, when papyrus asks what the procedure is, Alphys doesn’t answer.

Slowly, papyrus goes back to sleep, and the vials are all injected into him.

Once he wakes up again, he is now in a bed in a room that is similar to undynes, and is wearing a suit of armor also similar to undynes clothing.

Alphys walks in and tells papyrus that she cannot tell him where he is, and that he will stay here for the next few months.

Over the next few months papyrus is nurtured by Alphys, but notices something, Alphys is getting increasingly more stressed, and is now preforming daily checkups on him, and soon papyrus starts to notice something else.

Flesh.

Papyrus is growing flesh on his bones.

Flesh with scales.

And something else, papyrus feels much more determined and stronger in general, along with the sudden ability to be able to summon and throw spears as well as bones now.

However, the flesh doesn’t completely cover him, only parts of his limbs and face. He also loses vision in his left eye and needs an eyepatch, soon the changes stop.

Alphys realizes that her attempt at bringing undyne has failed and slowly realizes what she has put this innocent monster through. she leaves the lab and takes after her mentor, jumping into the core and killing herself.

Alphys has created Papyryne (name is a wip lmao).

Papyryne never found the key to leave the true lab, and has turned to be the caretaker of the other amalgamates, He has a lot of physical traits of undyne, while keeping most of the personality of papyrus, meaning he is now actually able to do the good deeds he once wanted to do. He makes the true lab look nicer, and treats the amalgamates like family

During all those shenanigans Sans has become very very lonely and quite depressed. He looks for papyrus everyday and can’t find him. He spends most of his time in his house or the judgement hall, or at least, he did.

Sans does end up meeting toriel, and in fact is at the door when you fight her, However sans never made his promise to not kill a human to toriel, as he feels that if there is an opportunity to melt the ice, he should take it.

After you leave the ruins, sans will have run away and back to his house. As you go through Snowdin, all of papyrus’ puzzles are completely frozen over and easily passable, and there are no monster encounters.

When you reach snowdin, no one is there either, they all either left or died, sans and papyrus, being skeletons, are the only ones who were able to survive the cold.

The river is completely frozen solid, and the ice cube machine is backed up with ice. When you reach the area where you would normally fight papyrus, sans will sneak up on you and start a battle.

The battle is different depending on weather you killed toriel or not. If you haven’t, sans is simply fighting you out of obligation, and the fight is very easy. After a few turns of acting and sparing, sans starts to cry a little. He doesn’t want to kill anyone, stating the underground has lost enough, and spares you. If you attack, the screen turns black and then you go back to the overworld. no sans in sight. If you do not attack, sans will not say anything, and go back to his house.

If you did kill toriel, the fight is a bit harder, but after a few turns, sans will run away regardless of what you do to him.

Entering waterfall, everything is frozen over, and again there is no life to be seen. There are two places of intrest, the old tem village (the new one will be mentioned later) where you can grab some nice items, and the village.

Upon entering the main area (the one with the save point and houses) you will encounter all three ghost characters, alphys was too obessed with reviving undyne to build mettaton, and undyne wasnt alive to need a training dummy (mad mew mew still happens post game btw).

Mad dummy forces the other two to attack you, napstablook being shy and mettaton being generally depressed (due to lack of body) dont really care too much, but fight you for their cousin anyways.

At the end of waterfall, they fight you one at a time (mirroring the multiple undyne fight segments). You can spare them by promising MTT and Mad Dummy that youll get them bodies (witch then becomes a pacifist quest), and letting blooky show you dapper blook.

Entering hotland youll notice everything is mostly ashen and gray, most of the lava having been turned to stone. You begin by passing through alphys's lab (nothing happens there... yet) and making your way to where MTT resort would have been, youll notice that as you enter hotland (now called "The Refuge" by most monsters) you can encounter monsters from anywhere in the previous areas.

Approaching the MTT resort location, youll instead find a bustling town called "New Snowdin", featuring Grillbys 2, a closed down nice cream stand, a royal guard sign up center, and... a massive cemetary.

In the cemetary youll find graves for muffet and lesser dog, as well as memorials for alphys, sans, and papyrus (the latter two being presumed dead by the public)

When attempting to enter the core, the door will be locked and have a sign saying "ROYAL GUARD ONLY", promting you to visit the sign up center.

You can sign up to the royal guard and enter the core, eventually getting on the elevator to the castle.

When you reach the top, youll be met by a hill, climbing on top of it youll find sans, he will explain that youre standing on top of the judgment hall, its been covered in snow

He says that for a long time, monsters have hated the king for his "wait out the humans" idea, and activley tried to revolt, promting the closing of the core to the public. He says that you are the final human needed, and sadly, you must die.

He then sends you off to asgore.

When you arrive, asgore brings you in for tea, sitting down with you in front of a large unpowered furnace with seven heart shaped slots, and explaining youre the first person willing to do so in quite some time.

He then escorts you to the barrier, and the fight begins. During the fight, your hp will drain very slowly due to the proximity of the barrier, being that it is what emmits the cold.

At the end, he reaches his final bit of hp, and then does something drastic.

You may have noticed a lack of flowey while reading this and thats because, well, he doesnt exist. flowers dont grow in these temperatures, and even if they could, alphys wouldnt have made him.

Asgore turns his back, and swings his trident, destroying the containers of souls, destroying them.

A second phase begins, he is now much powerful and has much more health, but eventually soul segments similar to those omega flowey has occur, and you can eventually defeat him.

You are then given the option to kill or spare him, if you kill, you recive the six souls and can break the barrier, if you spare, he takes you in as his own, and the game ends with you going to sleep in his castle.

This means that yes, there is no true pacifist run (but there is something similar...)

(Almost) PACIFIST EXCLUSIVE EVENTS:

If you have spared everyone, the elevator to the hill will collapse, bringing you to the true lab, where you can meet papyryne, he will treat you with kindness... at first.

He eagarly shows you around the lab, introducing you the amalgamates who he has lovingly named Puppy, Birdy, Snowy, Goopy, and Whispy.

However, as he shows you around youll begin to notice times where the font he is speaking in changes, and he becomes more agressive.

You can see the following entries on the walls:

Entry 1:

I found what I believe to be undynes remains today, something’s off though, it isn’t dust… it’s goop

Entry 2:

I’ve stored her remains down here, I plan to begin doing tests on it, seeing how she could have possibly gained DETERMINATION

Entry 3:

The DT extractor broke today, it will be a while untill it is fixed

Entry 4:

The memory heads keep looking around my shelf, spouting nonsense like “still there” or “don’t forget”

Entry 5:

The DT extractor is up and running again, I’m preforming some diagnostics, then tests begin tomorrow

Entry 6:

This is impossible

Entry 7:

I’ve made a discovery, in undynes remains, although there is only a fragment… her SOUL… is still there.

Entry 8:

The tests have been stopped, I’m attempting to recover some old files about the amalgamates

Entry 9:

Just as I thought, the records show that monster souls, when in their weakened state, can fuze, the most dominant soul taking the consciousness

Entry 10:

I took a small portion on undynes remains today and gave it to one of the amalgamates in their food, so far, nothing has happened

Entry 11:

It’s no problem, I simply need a bigger sample size, and perhaps a more stable monster with a complete soul, unlike the amalgamates

Entry 12:

I found a shyren today, I’ve lured it here and and captured it, I will be preforming the same experiment I did with the amalgamate

Entry 13:

…

Nothing is happening

Entry 14:

The shyren lost Vision in one eye today, though I am not sure if this is related to the experiment

Entry 15:

The shyren has been knocked out for 3 days now, I’ve hidden her body in the bathroom

Entry 16: I beleive I have found a new candidate for an experiment, this next experiment could be very very interesting.

As you are about to leave with him, freeing him from the lab, undyne takes over and he fights you. the fight is difficult by interchanging blue and green soul mechanics, the final attack using a combination of both.

You are forced to spare, as you cant damage him, and his fit of rage will end, he then will leave the lab with you and youll fast travel back to snowdin, reuniting him with sans.

You can then go back to the elevator and everything else will play out the same, with some additional sans dialouge at the end.

GENO EXCLUSIVE EVENTS:

You have to do like. a shit ton of grinding in hotland. You also have to do the ghost quests so you can kill them.

You reach level 14 and thats the highest you can get, you then take the elevator.

Once you reach the hill, you meet sans. He doesnt say anything, and a fight begins.

"it was a nice day today"

"can you see the snow sparkling in the light?"

"..."

"of course not"

"no one like you would stop to appreciate that"

"it was already bad down here, why did you have to make it worse"

"..."

"not much of a talker..?"

"me neither"

"but..."

"heres the thing"

"you see... king asgore needs one more soul"

"and youve got a nice one ripe for the taking"

"so... heres what im going to do"

"i am going to fight you"

"and i wont stop..."

"...UNTIL HELL FREEZES OVER"

then you fight, and at the end a similar cutscene to the one in UT will play, exept he doesnt ask papyrus if he wants anything.

you then go to asgore, and everything will play out as normal, exept you arent allowed to spare him.

EPILOUGE:

Holy fuck, that took so long to write. pleasepleaseplease if you have any questions feel free to ask, and i dont usually ask but if you liked it please reblog, i spent a lot of time on this.

ill be posting designs soon, and fanart would be much appreciated!!

sans design

[valenhui]

“for old times sake” + performance unit

scenarios with svt’s performance unit based off of this post. cws: angst lmao, some angst some fluff—mainly bittersweet, non idol!au, gender-neutral!reader (no pronouns mentioned), unedited.

jun: you’re at a wedding, not yours or his, but you’re both there and almost everything is like what you both once dreamed of—but it’s not for you or him.

you saw him when he arrived hours before but only acknowledged eachother with a quick nod before resuming whatever you had been doing prior. it isnt until couples are filling the dance floor as soft music plays through the speakers that he finally approaches you. or did you approach him? perhaps you met eachother halfway, neither of you seem to really mind.

its been so long since you’ve last seen him. you had both come to the agreement that a relationship wasn’t possible. not yours at least. your paths were leading you both two separate ways and while there are—and have been—occasions where your paths briefly intertwine, it would not last. despite the mutual decision you both came to four years, you still haven’t moved on to somebody new. and with the way he held and guided you so gently out to the dance floor, it appears like he hasn’t either.

“for old times sake,” he had reasoned when you looked at him confusingly at his offer of a dance. “this was once our dream, no?”

it was. from the venue to the season down to the song for the first dance, this wedding had been what the two of you once hoped to experience at your own wedding one day. you hope in another life, somehow, the circumstances were better.

“for old times sake.” you repeat after him, allowing yourself to savour the moment instead of dwelling over what once was and what could’ve been. what’s done has been done and you both knew deep down, it wouldn’t have worked in the way you would’ve liked no matter how hard you tried. not in this life at least, so while the chance is there, you hold onto him just a little tighter—as he does to you—and lose yourself to the rhythm of what could’ve been.

hoshi: “soonyoung?” your voice is groggy from sleep, eyes barely even open as your prop yourself up on your elbow with the phone to your ear.

the line is silent for a brief moment, save for some shuffling, before you finally hear his voice. “y/n hey, did i wake you?”

if you were even half awake, you would’ve shot him a sarcastic remark but you were far too exhausted right now so you figured simply agreeing with him would be easiest.

oh how wrong you were.

when he finally ended the call with a quick “thank you so much, i’m about twenty minutes away right now. i’ll text you when i’m there.” your head hit the pillow once again and just as you were about to fall into sleeps embtace once again, his words finally registered in your mind and you nearly shot out of bed at the realization.

unfortunately for you, he was already on his way to your apartment and the guilt would eat you alive if you were to suddenly turn him down when he had called asking if he could crash at your place. tapping your phone, you groaned at the reflected time: 2:37am.

might as well get up, he’ll be here soon anyways. you thought to yourself as you slowly got up from the comfort of your bed, already missing the warmth you so desperately wanted to crawl back into.

heading to the the kitchen, you got yourself a glass of water and decided to sit by the island until you got his text. in the silence, you could hear the soft pitter patter of rain outside your window and you wondered what could’ve possibly happened for him to have called you out of all people asking to spend the night. typically you don’t crash at your ex’s place after a breakup.

i’m here! you read the text and smile as you hear the soft shuffling outside your front door.

“hey.” he greets you warmly when you open the door. his jacket is soaked but he shakes off the excess water before stepping foot into your apartment and you silently thank him for the action before closing the door behind him.

“do you need to take a shower?” you asked and he shook his head.

“it’s fine really, just need a place to spend the night. i won’t stay long, promise.” he says and you wonder if it’s the exhaustion that says it’d be fine if he did. the drawer filled with his clothes still remain anyways.

“thank you, i’ll be fine. go back to sleep, i’m sorry for waking you.” he’s gently pushing you towards the direction of your bedroom but you only move an inch before you’re turning back towards him with a small frown. “what?”

“i cant let you sleep on the couch.”

“then the ground.”

“soonyoung!”

he bites back a grin, only adding fuel to your slightly annoyance that he only finds adorable.

“come,” you give him no time to protest before grabbing his hand and guiding him towards to your room. “i’ll get you a blanket.”

he stands awkwardly by your bed after taking off a few layers, leaving him in only a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants while you rummage through your closet for a spare blanket. you hand it to him with a nod before getting back to bed, your exhausting weighing heavy as you fight sleep just long enough to watch him crawl onto the bed with you, leaving a noticeable distance between you two.

a smile makes its way to your lips but sleep seems to reach you quicker as a quiet “night soonie.” reaches his ears and despite having lived in this apartment with you some time ago, it feels awfully new now that the two of you are no longer together. everything seems unfamiliar now, yet this feels oddly nostalgic.

“y/n?” he calls softly, watching as you mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out in response. the only coherent thing he could catch was his name before you’re suddenly inching closer to him making his hold his breath.

“y/n.” he tries again to no avail, seeing as you’re now nearly curled up against his chest. despite having asked for a place to sleep for the night, he finds it difficult to even try falling asleep when his mind is struggling to process what is happening and what he should do. he didn’t want to overstep but he also feared possibly waking you up again if he tried to get you to roll back onto the opposite side of your bed.

it also didn’t help that you looked so peaceful like this.

i’ll be gone be gone before sunrise. he eventually told himself. he would be gone before you woke up and neither of you would have to worry about what happened. it would be like he was never here in the first place.

closing his eyes, he selfishly allowed himself to savour moment as your soft breaths lulled him to sleep.

“for old times sake.” he told himself. he would be home by sunrise, and the two of you would go back to being strangers.

now if only he had actually left before sunrise.

minghao: “oh my bad,” your voice startles the man sitting idly on the swing. “i thought no one would be here, i didn’t- i should go-”

he calls your name as you begin to turn around. you’ve forgotten how it sounds rolling off his tongue.

“yeah?” you turn towards him, and when you do, he’s gesturing to the empty swing seat beside him and you know deep down you should just leave, you need to get over him and while avoiding him isn’t necessarily the smartest thing, it’s easier than fighting to not fall for him all over again. but then he’s flashing you that charming smile and reasoning that it’s “for old times sake” and you find it hard to say no to him. it always has—but somehow not when he first brought up the idea of ending it. you push the thought to the back of your mind for now. and so, despite your head screaming at you to turn around and walk back home, you find yourself sitting on a swing set beside minghao as he listens to you talk about the stars up in the sky.

you were hesitant at first, only briefly making small talk before he curiously asked about a particular constellation it’s the first one you ever showed him. there’s a fond expression on his face as looks at you—distracted and all too consumed by the stars above—that hasn’t seemed to disappear even after your relationship came to an end.

he wonders, sometimes, if the stars remembered when he’d bring you to this park every night when you were younger, listening closely as you talked about whatever it was that was currently on your mind. he wonders if they remembered watching the two of you; reckless, young, but oh so inlove with one another. he wonders if they remember how many nights he's sat here, heart aching in his hands as he wished for anything that could make him yours again.

they do remember, and perhaps it is out of pity that tonight, the stars seem to shine brighter as if allow you the moment you’ve relived so many times in your youth. for old times sake.

dino: your friends weren’t good at being subtle. or at least you hoped they were trying to be subtle.

your relationship with chan had ended two years ago and despite choosing to still remain friends, it was evident that your friends seemed to believe that there was still a chance of relighting that old flame. perhaps they weren’t wrong.

“it looks like its going to be just us.” chan said when he realized that the rest of your friends had already paired up whilst in line, leaving the two of you left as the ferris wheel operator motioned for the two of you to get on. he flashed you a small smile, almost apologetic, as he extended a hand out for you to take.

glancing up at the pods your friends now occupied, you shot them a scowl before hastily taking his hand and getting into the pod of your own. his hand still in yours even after you’ve both even seated and the ride started. you didn’t notice until he readjusted his hand so that your fingers were now intertwined and you looked down at your hands in slight horror.

he simply gave you a smile before turning to look out at the shoreline. “for old times sake.” he said, referencing to your first ‘date’ where nearly the same situation had happened. the only difference between them and now was that at the top of the ferris wheel chan had finally confessed after months of claiming to be ‘just friends’. this time, he only holds onto your hand tightly, squeezing it almost reassuringly while avoiding your gaze altogether.

“chan?”

his expression was soft when he looked at you, the devotion he still holds for you practically leaking out as he hummed in acknowledgment at your call.

“nothing.” you replied, giving his hand a squeeze. he smiled in return.

for old times sake.

[chiimeramanticore]

Part of the Band - Chapter 12 - Tell Me The Truth

Chapter summary: Dook spends a day at home.

A/N:

halfway through writing this chapter I realized CDs weren't invented until like 1981 and weren't brought to America until like 1983 but I've been "fuck it we ball no post-upload edits" about this fic since day one so I didn't change it to a cassette. just assume this fic takes place in a universe where everything is the same except the CD was invented 5 years earlier lmao in actual news: we're finally entering an arc of the fic I've been waiting for for literally months. I've been sitting on this exact chapter for months. and after all that time I am still afraid the end of this chapter is gonna seem like I'm jumping the shark w this fic lmao. bear with me! I know what I'm doing! you just gotta trust me 👍 all that said I hope you enjoy the chapter as always! thanks for reading :]

Chapter word count: 2,173

<- Chapter 11 - Chapter 13 ->

Read it on AO3!

It's Sunday.

When Dook wakes up, Beach Bear is already gone. This isn't out of the ordinary by now– Dook knows Beach Bear spends his Sundays at the beach. It's sort of his thing. He could be gone anywhere between a few hours and and all day, honestly. Depends how the waves are, he figures.

Dook has come to take these days for himself. Write some music, clean up the place a bit... He owes Beach Bear at least that much for letting him live here for so long.

After standing in the kitchen idly eating an untoasted bagel, Dook decides that that's good enough to get to work. He turns his attention to the counter, sifting through the pile of notes, receipts, and other stuff they've left there over the week. He tosses what he knows they won't need, and organizes the rest.

As he lifts up a notepad to put it back in its drawer, Dook reveals a CD, still in its case. Scribbled onto the front in Sharpie: "Ballroom Dancing." This is the CD he saw in Beach Bear's car a while ago. He didn't know it ended up here. Beach Bear seemed embarrassed of it at the time, but... Dook eyes the radio next to him.

...But he doesn't have to know, right?

Dook pops the CD out of its case and into the radio's CD player.

The CD whirrs to life, and out comes the sound of Beach Bear. He plucks at his guitar a few times, warming up at first, before beginning to strum a song. He hums along in accompaniment for a while, and then begins to sing the lyrics. Dook recognizes this song– it's by Paul McCartney. But hearing it in Beach Bear's voice is a whole new experience... Though, he is admittedly aware of his infatuation with his voice.

Awareness doesn't stop him from being completely entranced by the recording, though. It's just Beach Bear and his guitar– a far cry from a finished cover– but the smallness of it almost feels more personal. More intimate. Like he's performing just for him.

But eventually, the song ends, and Dook is reminded how he stands in Beach Bear's house without him. Silence falls over the kitchen once more. Left with only his thoughts, Dook can only imagine one thing.

"Beach Bear can sing," he says aloud to himself. How come he was so nervous about this? He's fantastic!

He puts the CD on again, returning to cleaning as he listens. He should bring this up to him when he comes home. He should encourage him to sing in the band! That would solve their singer problem for sure.

Dook's cleaning eventually brings him to Beach Bear's bedroom. He hasn't been in here in some time... not since he slept here. Even then, it was only for a couple hours, and he wasn't conscious for most of it.

He hasn't accustomed to this room fully, even after all this time. Something just feels too intimate about it. Sacred, almost. Maybe he shouldn't clean in here.

Still, Dook finds himself stepping into the room, his feet meeting the plush carpeting.

The silence of the room hangs over him, the air still. The very act of being in here is a disturbance. The posters on the walls watch him. Dook walks over to the desk and runs the tips of his fingers gingerly over the top of a notebook left out there. His hand then comes to rest carefully on the top of the chair parked by the desk.

Old photographs are pasted just above the desk. Some feature Beach Bear himself, where others look like they were taken by him. He spots Queenie in a couple of them. There's a wolf, a dog, a gorilla... Is this the rest of the Wolf Pack?

Beach Bear himself in these images looks different, too. Tougher. Maybe even meaner. Dook remembers the day him and Queenie fought... the way he held her against the wall like that. The way they were both able to hurt each other. Did they learn that back when these photos were taken? How long has he been capable of that?

What would it take for him to do it again?

Dook pulls back from the desk, shaking the thought from his mind. It's not something worth worrying about. Besides, he shouldn't stay in here much longer.

·–—–·

It's been several hours, and the sun has begun to set. Dook has occupied himself with writing a full arrangement of "Ballroom Dancing." They've got a full band, and with Beach Bear singing, it would be something perfect to work on at band practice! He's almost giddy for Beach Bear to come home so he can show him the work he's done.

Almost on cue, Dook hears the door unlock and open. He stands excitedly, ready to meet him at the front of the room.

"Beach Bear!" Dook says enthusiastically. "I'm–"

"We need to talk," Beach Bear says.

Dook's smile fades, a pit beginning to open in his stomach. "Uhm– Sure, about what?" He asks, trying to retain some of the pleasant tone in his voice.

"I was at the beach today," Beach Bear says, "and you'll never guess who I ran into."

"...Uh," Dook's mind begins to race. Should he play dumb? How much does Beach Bear know? He probably knows everything, right? If he doesn't, maybe he can convince him he's done less wrong? No, that's a bad idea. Maybe this isn't even about what he did. He doesn't know it is. He doesn't know anything.

"...Fatz?" Dook offers finally.

"No," Beach Bear says, unamused. "I saw Mini. And we got to talking. She told me some real interesting stuff." His voice drips with barely concealed annoyance.

"O- oh," Dook says meekly, offering no other information.

"Where is that outfit you picked up yesterday, anyway?" Beach Bear asks.

"Uh–" Dook grabs the bag he left at the side of the couch, bringing it over to Beach Bear. He reaches inside, pulling it out just enough for him to show that it's real. "It's here, see? I got it yesterday."

"Okay, where'd you get that from?" Beach Bear continues, relentless. "Because according to her, you didn't spend the money I gave you for a costume, on a costume. What happened to it?"

"I..." Dook stutters a few times. "I have the costume. Are you gonna trust her saying that?"

"Mini's a real jerk sometimes, but she's not a liar, Dook," Beach Bear says. "And right now? I trust her a lot more than I trust you."

Dook feels a knot form in his throat. "I...!" Lying is only going to make this worse. "...I got the costume from Billy Bob and Looney Bird. We made it together."

"Where's my money, Dook?" He asks, relentless.

"I... I don't have it," he admits.

"What did you do with my money, Dook?!" Beach Bear takes a step toward him, towering over him. Dook steps back instinctively. His heart races.

"I- I–" He stammers. "I don't have it. I didn't... I was gonna spend it on the costume. I wanted to spend it on the costume, but I–" He stutters a few more times, unsure how to soften the blow. May as well just come out with it. "W- when you met me that night, and I wasn't doin' so hot, I– I was kinda... reliant, y'know? And I– I don't know what I was thinking that night, I dunno why I went back there. I dunno what's wrong with me. I love spendin' time with you, I've liked all the time we spent together, I just– It– It felt familiar. It was what I used to." The words spill out of him, hasty and messy.

"You... you spent it on booze," Beach Bear says. His voice is low, but his stature doesn't relax even a bit. Then, "You spent all that money on alcohol!?"

"I knew I shouldn't've when I did it!" Dook cries.

"That doesn't make it any better!" Beach Bear shouts.

"I know! I'm sorry!"

"And to find this out from Queenie, I–" He retreats a bit, if only to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this! What were you thinking?!"

"I don't know!" Dook's voice breaks a little. "I don't know what I was thinking!"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I– I didn't want you to be upset with me...!"

"I am upset with you!" Beach Bear snaps. "I'm more upset that you thought you could just get away with it! What, that you could just sweep it under the rug? That I wouldn't notice? That it'd just be a funny story later down the line?"

"I–"

"Do you know what I could've done with that money, Dook?"

"I–"

"Do you know what I have had to do since then just to keep the damn house?! I had to go crawling back to my parents again!" He falters for a moment, as if he wasn't planning to tell him that. "I..."

"You–? You didn't have to do that!"

"Yes, I did!" Beach Bear says, just as angry once again. "I had to call them and– and all but beg for the money to keep the house ours! I had to– I had to tell them I was over the being a guy thing! I had to tell them I was wrong and delusional and everything else they wished I was...! Because of you!" Beach Bear pokes him forcefully in the chest. The tip of his claw is sharp.

"Beach Bear–"

"Because I trusted you!" He pokes him again, getting even closer now.

"B- Beach–"

"I liked you, even! I thought you were my friend!" He's practically on top of him now. "And what do you you do but spit in my face?!"

Beach Bear pushes Dook, who stumbles and falls to the floor. He isn't hurt, but he's terrified.

"Is... Is this what you were keeping from me?" Dook asks. "You said you weren't being truthful with me."

"Do not try to turn this around on me," Beach Bear says.

"I'm not tryin' to, I–"

Beach Bear sighs sharply. "I cannot believe this. I cannot believe this!" He turns, beginning to pace the distance between Dook and the front door. "Who do you think you are?"

Dook begins to stand again. "B... Beach Bear, I–"

"I can't," Beach Bear says. "I can't be here." He turns for the door once more.

"Beach Bear–?"

Beach Bear opens the front door, leaving the house. Dook scrambles to his feet, chasing after him.

"Beach Bear, wait!" He calls. Beach Bear is already getting into his car. "Wait, please! Don't leave! I'll– I'll leave instead! I'll go! Don't leave, please!"

Beach Bear pulls out of the driveway.

"Beach Bear! Beach Bear! No! Please!" Dook attempts to chase after the car, but it's too fast.

"Beach Bear!" He tries once more. But he's left alone in the street now. "B..." The words die in his throat.

He feels empty. He feels destroyed. This is all his fault.

·–—–·

Dook stares blankly at the papers he left on the coffee table. What he once was so excited over feels embarrassing now. It's been a few hours since Beach Bear left, to where, he has no clue.

He's considered what he should do when he comes back. Apologize profusely was the first idea, obviously. Maybe he could prepare some sort of grand gesture, like making him his favorite meal... but he's got no idea when he'll be back, and it would be a shame to let the food get cold. Maybe he should just leave. But if Beach Bear returned to find Dook gone, that might cause distress all over again. But to do nothing feels like he doesn't care...

The phone rings. Dook springs up to answer it. It's probably Beach Bear, calling to make up with him, right? Maybe chew him out some more, but at least he'll have the chance to apologize again.

Dook picks up the phone. "Hello?"

"What the hell did you do to him?" Queenie snaps.

"Wh– Huh?"

"What did you do?" She repeats.

"I–" He stutters a few times, recounting his memory. "When he got home, we argued. Obviously. Then he left. I haven't– I haven't seen him in a few hours."

"Well, what did you say to him?!" She presses.

"I didn't say anything! I apologized!"

"Well, you must have done something," she insists, "because he's in the hospital!"

Dook freezes. "He's... what?"

"He's in the hospital," Queenie repeats. "I don't know what happened yet, I just got a call now. We're leaving now."

Dook isn't sure what to say. He's in the hospital? What happened? What did he do? This is all his fault.

"Meet us there," Queenie says, and then she hangs up.

Dook holds the phone to his ear a moment longer, still stunned. Then, finally, he puts it back on the receiver. Guess he's going to the hospital.

[kaksparkz]

for the artist askgame, idk how many youve answered already but 3,4,10,12,21,24 and 35!

hello helloo!! sorry im just answering this now, been pretty busy^^ (also, using this chance to thank u for your support!! i always see u interacting with my stuff here hbasfcyhdb you're a sweetheart😭💕)

Your fav piece/s?

Probably this vergil one! i still love how it looks djddgnds my art peaked here im afraid,,,,,

Piece you wish got more love?

hmm, this is an interesting one!! tbh i dont mind it much but this johnny fanart got waaaaay more attention on instagram!! i mean,,, i have a lot of mk moots there so it makes sense lol (and also just got to 1k followers on IG!! crazy stuff💌)

How do you deal with artblock?

to be honest, once i realize i have artblock i stop drawing for a couple of days. if i keep insisting on drawing i just get more and more frustrated and it makes it worse imo. so i like to spend some time doing my other hobbies!!! (´▽｀)

usually i just come back to drawing once i regain motivation or i get a cool idea that i need to sketch so i wont forget. and when that happens, my artblock is usually gone!! so,, i guess i just wait for it to go away? lol not much advice i can give on that sadly :/

Describe your process while drawing!

CHAOTIC. to say the least.

i spend like. half an hour on pinterest beforehand getting inspo & searching for refs and ONLY THEN i can start drawing. i start on SAI1, do the sketch and if i like how it looks, i just clean it up. if it dont, i do 'proper' lineart. after that i start coloring and shading!! this is my fav part tbh. once im done shading i color the lineart so its not completely black. then i open up SAI2 and start doing more rendering, adding overlays & effects. that part is also SO FUN cause it makes everything come together so nicelyy. my art process is a pretty big 'trust the process' till that part lol.

there's ALWAYS music or yt videos playing in the bg, and me taking A LOT of 15 minutes breaks cause that one song is so good and i have to stop drawing and start singing while looking at the spotify lyrics like im hypnotized LMAO

What do you thin you artstyle woukd taste like?

people always say my art looks so tasty and. i kind of agree!! like. smth very sweet. it really depends on the colors i use on the piece but,,, either hard candy, gummies, marshmallows or even syrup i think!!!

What's a compliment about your art that has always stuck with you?

i get super giddy with every compliment i get so i dont think i can remember one in particular??? but istg people always say the funniest, most sweet things ever and it's so nice to hear :3 but if i had to say smth,,, i once had the chance to talk with this one incredibly talented illustrator, and he kept telling me how he thought my stuff looked amazing. and i was like!!! wow!!! you actually like my stuff?? what!!!!

Piece of advice for my younger artist self

i would sit this little girl down and talk to her for hours tbh poor thing was STRUGGLING 😭😭😭

i guess my best advice for her (and for anyone who reads this, too!) is to not be so hard on yourself. art is a skill, and it takes a lot of time to build it up!!!

i used to get SO extremely upset when my stuff didnt look the way i wanted it to and ughhh. took me literal years to find my artstyle too and that didn´t help AT ALL with how frustrated i was feeling. i felt,,, stuck??

but now i look back at my art journey and. wow have i improved!! maybe if that little girl saw the stuff i do today she wouldn´t be so sad about her art :´] not to say i don´t struggle today, i still feel stuck and frustrated often!! but i guess i learned to be kinder to myself. but i still have lots of things to improve about my art!! i wonder when i´ll take another look back and see how much i´ve progressed since today,,,

thank you for the ask!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[underratedandoverit]

oh god. first off, bless you for this. the feels are so much right now ;; as for the prompt, i was inspired by how clingy kip was lol. something that makes kip really happy happens (doing well in/winning a big match, finally get a win in his game after a long losing streak, etc) and the moment he sees oc, he jumps into his arms and clings to him all excited, wrapping his legs around him and kissing him. kip gets embarrassed at first when he realizes what he's doing, but oc won't let him go and kisses him back because he's just too damn cute when he's happy

~1,1k words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

i tried to edit and proofread this, but keep in mind ive been awake for 24 hours so everything is a struggle lmao. i still think its cute tho, and i wanted to get this up before i crash for a nap, so hope you enjoy! 💜

boop at @stormbornpirate as well since you wanted to be tagged into everything ~

on ao3

--------------------------

Kip wasn’t sure how many times he had read the email over so far, but it had to be somewhere in the high tens at this point, maybe close to a hundred. And with every single reread, it was still sinking in for him that this was actually happening. The words on the phone screen seemed surreal, but after reading through them so many times Kip had managed to convince himself that they were actually real. This wasn’t just some kind of a cruel joke being played on him, this was real, and really happening.

His head snapped up and eyes shot away from the screen as Kip could hear lazy footsteps coming down the stairs, approaching the living room. Cassidy had been taking a nap for the past couple of hours while Kip had gotten the news, and as exciting as things had been, Kip just didn’t want to wake him up; Cassidy had been dealing with a rough weekly schedule and a long flight home the day prior, so Kip happily let him sleep for a while longer, while he was still taking in the news himself.

But now he was awake by the sound of it, prompting Kip to stand up from the couch just in time for the blond to appear in the living room doorway, Kip’s face lighting up immediately upon seeing the sleepy man standing there, running a hand through his hair as he yawned.

“Morni--”

Cassidy couldn’t finish the statement as Kip was already standing in front of him as he crossed the living room in just a handful of steps, grabbing a handful of his t-shirt as Kip pulled Cassidy closer, kissing him. Being half awake, it took Cassidy a moment to catch up to his speed, but eventually he laughed it off, replying back to the kiss, allowing it to deepen as Kip pressed himself tighter against him. Cassidy’s arms wrapped around his waist at first, but seeing as Kip was not going to let him go any time soon, he just went along with it, shifting his hands slightly and easily picking the other man into his arms. This turn of events was highly welcomed by Kip though, as he easily wrapped his legs around Cassidy’s midsection, restless hands running through his short hair as they were trying to find their place.

Cassidy wasn’t sure what brought this kind of behavior out of Kip all of a sudden. Not that he usually wasn’t needy or enjoyed their closeness, but he seemed more eager to be in his arms today than usual. Maybe it was the fact that they had been apart for an extra few days now and the time Cassidy had spent at home he had mostly been asleep so far, but even then usually Kip was at least laying in bed with him, just to be able to cuddle while Cassidy got the rest he needed.

It didn’t matter much though, he didn’t mind it. It was always very pleasant to have his boyfriend in his arms, not to mention to be able to kiss him, no matter the occasion or a lack thereof.

Kip finally broke the kiss apart, allowing both parties to catch their breath. It was almost as if only then he realized where he was, feeling Cassidy’s hands on the back of his thighs as he was firmly held in place in the air, his legs wrapped around the blond. An immediate shade of pink started to take over his face, Kip just trying to laugh the situation off awkwardly as his eyes looked away from Cassidy, clearly embarrassed over the situation his enthusiasm had put him into.

“Sorry, I-I got a little carried away.”

But Cassidy clearly wasn’t going to let him go, as he just leaned closer, pressing another kiss onto the side of Kip’s neck, trailing it up to his cheek, feeling the heat of it against his lips as Cassidy chuckled at him quietly.

“You’re never this eager for affection,” he teased Kip, watching the bashful look take over his entire face as Kip just looked around the two of them, finding everything else in the room clearly more interesting than Cassidy at the moment. “Did you miss me that much?”

Kip didn’t respond at first, but he could feel getting the control of his hands back, slowly starting to spin coils of Cassidy’s hair around his fingers as he was running his hands through it. “Well, ye-yeah that too.”

Cassidy tilted his head at him, offering the Brit a smile. Kip knew he was in this predicament until he would actually tell Cassidy the truth, the other man wasn’t going to let him down before that. And Cassidy had become really good at reading him, obviously knowing when he wasn’t telling the full story of something or otherwise lying, so there was really only one way out of this for him.

Kip finally looked back at him, his whole face twisting into a smile as soon as he laid eyes on the blond. “We’re going to Japan.”

Cassidy blinked at him, trying to process the message being relayed to him. “Japan?”

“Yeah!” He had heard Kip’s previous stories about his visits to the country in question, not being even a tiny bit surprised to hear his voice perk up in an excited tone. “I just got an email from Tony, they would love us to represent AEW over there for a few shows for DDT! You and I, wrestling in Japan – isn’t that amazing?”

Cassidy couldn’t hold Kip’s excitement against him, he knew from previous times spent there how much Kip loved not only the country, but also wrestling there. Clearly this was a big deal to him as Cassidy was fairly sure he had never seen Kip be this excited about sharing some news with him, going as far as basically jumping into his arms to deliver them.

“You’re gonna go with me, right?” Cassidy snapped back to reality from his tired, thoughtful state, immediately replying back with a nod. “Of course I will, you know you don’t even have to ask that.”

Beaming back at him, Kip gently pulled him closer by the back of his head, locking Cassidy into another excitement and passion filled kiss. Trying to keep track of his surroundings in the haze of his feelings in the moment, Cassidy carefully walked them up to the couch, slowly lowering Kip on it. As he could feel the legs unwrapping from around him, Cassidy sat down on his lap, making sure to never break the kiss as he did so, hands running through the other man’s bright colored hair to carefully pull him closer to himself again.

[medtech-mara]

8, 11, 22 for Mara/Jack and Mara/J I H Z Z Y

Ref post

8.Who is the big spoon? Little spoon?

Jihara- which is the couple name for J I H Z Z Y and Mara. I think we can all guess who is the big spoon.

It's Mara. J I H Z Z Y is the little spoon.

For Jack & Mara, who don't have a couple name because we've not came up with one yet.

Jack is the big spoon. Before he got the extra inches (his height, don't be in the gutter lmao) from his Sigframe, he was a like a Jetpack on Mara. Kinda cute. He wasn't that much shorter than Mara, only a couple.

9.Who is clingy?

For Jihara- Mara is the more clingy one. Something about this rockerboy leaves Mara desperate for his attention. Maybe it's because his fame makes her feel insecure? Especially knowing that Missy (Our pop queen) has had his audience a few times. Of course it was only for discussing Collab and Missy asking J I H Z Z Y to get Gordie to look her way again, but it still made Mars hella jealoussssss!!!!

For Jack & Mara- Jack is the clingy one. He has always hung on every word Mara has ever said since he fell in love with her when they were 9. She'd come over one morning, with her frizzy of unmanageable mane, her glasses, and braces, something in the way she smiled, something in the way she was so excited to talk about this new show she watched, when she crawled into the blanket fort dubbed Fort. Adams with his twin brother, just made him realize she was the one for him. While they have always been inseparable, after getting together in Water on Mars, the two are rarely seen without each other, and Mara will never admit to anyone but him, there's no place else she'd rather be.

22. What is something - either character - doesn't like about the other?

Jihara- For J i h z z y, I can't speak for him on this, but IF I were to guess, it would be that Mara's content with going any minute, she's okay living the rest of her days as a merc. He wants more for her.

For Mara, She doesn't like that J I H Z Z Y has never taken being a merc serious, despite this being the whole reason he's here for his next album. He's not improved and too many times she's had to hold herself back to tend to him to to be near him in the invent that something horrible does happen, she has to get him hooked to a Cryo-bag stat.

Jack & Mara- For Jack, He hates Mara being a merc. Well, at first. He was SOOOO AGAINST IT!!! That was, until one day she was coming home from a gig that she blew him off for, she was pushed onto N-CART track and left for dead.. But she wasn't. Maelstrom scavs near by took advantage of a fresh corps to pick apart, but the only Cyberware she had at the moment of value was her KIROSHI 075362K Limited Gold Edition w/ the following upgrades: 

-Low-Light/Infrared/UV 

-Color Shift

-Anti-Dazzle

But they were fried when she fell on the track, and left blind. THE ONLY saving grace was that Mara had a Frequent Flyer card addressed to a Titus Atredies (Space prince) and they saw their chance for a good cash cow that they wanted to milk dry. However, He never showed. I have no clue what the Boosters planned on, but Mara was almost never seen again. If it hadn't been for her brother putting a tracker in her bag, a spy toy from when they were kids, which he'd recently given to Jayce before he was arrested. (Look theres a lot, that was going on at that time. I would need a soild hour to explain.). Mara had pinged Jago several times to get her, and he hadn't showed either. Blind, she knew that she wouldn't fair well, but she was gonna die trying. She didn't want to know what they planned for her. Just as she got ready to make a break for it, Jack showed up and killed the two guys in the front seat. That's when he decided he had to be proactive, he had to protect her or else she was going to end up like her friend Jennifer Costa.

& also he hates mara's ex jago a lot and hates that she even has anything to do with him still

Mara HATES that Jack can never say what he feels. Its always gotta be to the point of no return for him to finally make his move. Mara wasn't blind to how Jack felt, but when she made her move, he didn't respond? So she was kinda left confused, and maybe thought it was for the best. She stood the most to lose if it didnt work. It wasn't until He heard about Mara and Titus had broken up, thats when he went to make his move. LIKE DUDE WHY? UUUUGGGGHHHHHH

[ticklish-touch]

What do you think about AI, i mean AI like ChatGPT

OK SO. I have some strong thoughts about AI in general, so buckle up:

AI chat clients are totally fine. They've been around since the days of Evie, maybe even longer. And, imo, they're examples of actual AI. Learning algorithms. I will neither confirm nor deny that I have attempted ChracterAI tickle RPs with a couple of my fav canon characters out of curiosity.

I know you didn't mention it but I think I should bring up the topic of "AI Art generators". But this gets long, so I'm putting it under the cut, lmao

I think people need to understand that the AI itself is not what we should be upset about. It's the fact that these programs have been allowed to and trained to pull art from all over the internet with absolutely no checks or permissions in place. They launched before anything was solidly set in place that would allow artists to opt into their work being able to even show up under an Art AI's radar, and protect artists' work who do not want it to be distributed. And even websites that have implemented the ability to opt out of giving up the copyright of their work have done it in such a sneaky, underhanded way that most people don't even realize that it's an option.

And imo, these algorithms aren't really "AI" in the sense that people have come to believe the term to mean. Stuff like that is about as "Artificial Intelligence" as using a free art collage maker or Youtube mashup-maker online, or setting parameters in a 3D model renderer for an object to follow. It would be the equivalent of AI Chat bots being allowed to plagiarize literature, fanfics, and other published works. And as far as I'm aware, that isn't what they're doing.

So, to me, a real "Artificial Intelligence that creates art" would look like a program that actually, legitimately learns from the references it sees online, not just, cut & pastes from a conglomeration of stolen art. It would form its own blueprints, correct its own brush strokes, uses smart computer brain juice to run the math on what would create the most scientifically & visually appealing composition.

That... Isn't necessarily an ideal outcome either though, since there would still be the possibility of artists that spend hours, days, weeks working on their art being upstaged by people who press the "make art" button (which is already how normies and uneducated folks view digital art in the first place). BUT I really, truly believe it could be a very useful tool to people who have beautifully creative minds without the skills or time to draw their concepts. IF the technology is utilized correctly.

So, admittedly, my Sci-Fi loving heart hurts whenever it sees "Say No to AI" and sees how AI as a whole has an even worse name because people have already fucked it up.

...So YEAH TL;DR, say no to AI Art generators but by all means have fun with your Chatbot RP buddies, they're a great outlet for story & RP ideas and acting out ticklish fantasies 👍

[7ndipity]

hiiii!!! i wanted to do the ship thing because i am a HOPELESS romantic and that just rocked my world tbh. ALSO CONGRATS!!!!! 🎊 🥳👏🏻🎉🙌🏻

pairing: romantic

star sign: aries

personality: i think im a pretty fun gal. from what i know im somewhat of a comedy genius but i don’t want to start flattering myself TOO much here! honestly im just down to have a good time with whoever, whenever, and wherever (if that makes sense?) i am a theatre MANIAC. i spend pretty much all my free time in theatre and dare i say im quite good. i also ended myself up on the tennis team even though its been a couple months since ive played (we will just see where that goes) I LOVE photography (it’s in my BLOOOD.) i have a whole insta account for it and sports photography really became my passion (or one of them I’m a woman of many talents) im also on yearbook and i love that, im in choir, and for some reason im on the debate team. other hobbies are really making bracelets for my friends, watching movies (letterboxd warrior), TALKING to friends (I spent 8 hours FaceTiming my friends yesterday and I didn’t even realize), and i would say im a Spotify legend.

as for the rest of my personality, I would say I’m a pretty happy person. I have been through some very rough friendships with people who are pessimistic, so I try my best to keep AWAY from that at all costs. I’m also pretty mature/ an old soul. From the ripe age of like 5 I’ve been told that I am an old soul (honestly I don’t know how you can tell at THAT age but cool!) I feel things very deeply, but I also rely on logic more so than feeling sometimes. (Unless we are involving some sort of romance I will lose control of logic and immediately make the best decision for my emotions) other music artists I like besides BTS are the beatles, tame impala, red velvet, and Taylor swift. (Music is just a big part of my personality I thought you should know.)

Appearance: I’m blonde and I’m 5’5 with green eyes. I would say I am about medium or average sized? (I’ve dealt with chronic illness and the body changes that come with that so it’s fluctuated over time.) I also have PALE skin (Edward Cullen core). I am all around quite the looker. I am sorry. I do not want to flatter myself but I am just going with the information I have been given. I feel narcissistic and TRUST that is not me. Anyways, I’m always wearing athletic shorts and a shirt with the BEST shoes (my school has a uniform so the shoe game has to be on POINT so besides that my style is really casual and basic)

I think that about sums up who I am. I am ITCHING to know which bulletproof Boy Scout would like me (but absolutely no pressure I just DEVOUR your work LMAO) have an awesome day 💯💯💯💯💯💯💯

I would ship you with Hobi, Yoongi, and a bit with Jin!

You share a lot of qualities with Hobi and Jin that I think would make you a pretty good match with either of them. I feel like they would really love your energy and enthusiasm(also Aquarius and Saggitarius are a good balance to your Aries energy)

Yoongi’s also an old soul with a deep passion for music, and I think he would also appreciate your energy(similar to his friendship with Hobi)

Hope this was okay💜

[camgoloud]

22-25 for the end of the year reading asks!

(In response to this ask game which I reblogged Several days ago lmao)

22. What's the longest book you read?

By page count it's pretty close to tied between Iron Gold (Pierce Brown) and The Will of the Many (James Islington)! Iron Gold is the fourth book in a sci-fi series that I read a while ago—since this summer I’ve been slowly rereading/listening to the audiobook versions of the first five books because I learned that the sixth one was being released in July after a several year wait and couldn’t remember enough about the plot to jump straight into it. Working my way through the fifth one right now which is even longer (34 hour audiobook!)... hopefully I'll finish it before the end of the year so I can finally start the new one. Meanwhile The Will of the Many is the recently-published first in a planned trilogy and it's all about Gary Stu's adventures in the fantasy Roman Empire with a magic system that's a somewhat-clunky, hilariously unsubtle satire of trickle-down economics. I had fun with it :)

23. What’s the fastest time it took you to read a book?

I think the full-length novel that I went through the fastest is probably Catherynne Valente’s Space Opera, which I read in a sub-24 hour period (picked it up at the library on a Friday afternoon and was done before Saturday evening). My feelings on that one are somewhat mixed—it’s a quick read (lmao) and a fun concept (2/3 ex-members of a washed-up English glam rock band get forcibly conscripted to represent Earth in its first inter-galactic Eurovision analogue after first contact with aliens; if they lose humanity is deemed unworthy of entering the cultural conversation and the planet gets destroyed) and months later I am still compelled by the relationships between the main two characters/their narrative-haunting dead best friend, and there are a few specific sentences I could quote word for word because I liked the prose so much—but also the prose is just So Fucking Much. My god. Valente read the Goodreads quote page for Hitchhiker’s Guide and said “I’m going to write a book where Every Single Sentence reads exactly like all of these” and by god she fucking did it! Kind of grated on me after a couple of chapters tbh and also I can’t decide whether I think the ending was strong or not... I'd recommend it though if you're a fan of Hitchhiker's and/or Eurovision and/or rock band drama!

24. Did you DNF anything? Why?

I think the only things I got properly invested in (as in, read more than the first few pages) before setting aside for an extended period of time and don’t plan on finishing before the year ends are House of Leaves and The Crying of Lot 49 - and both of them especially House of Leaves are books that I actually would like to finish, but realized partway through that I absolutely did not have the bandwidth at that point of time to give them the time/attention they required. But one of these years I will actually sit down and read a Pynchon novel from cover to cover I swear… and I should be able to get to House of Leaves in 2024!

25. What reading goals do you have for next year?

I want to read more short stories! I got pretty into the speculative fiction short story scene this year—bits and pieces of various anthologies, finally subscribed to some magazines like Clarkesworld, etc.—and I’ve been having a really good time with it, so next year I’d like to keep that energy up. I’m also hoping to finish House of Leaves as previously mentioned!

[kopretina]

Ok, so, for context, I am prone to really painful bloating/trapped gas, which comes and goes in its severity, but it's something I've dealt with since high school. I was at work this morning and it started to flare up, but it was manageable until I stood up and I was having a bit of difficulty walking out because of the pain. Got some simethicone from the nearby pharmacy because of course today was the only one day I forgot to bring my tiny medicine box. I went to the library as planned, but I couldn't stand the thought of eating because I was still in quite a lot of pain, so I skipped lunch. I felt ok while sitting, so I managed to get some work done. Started to feel a bit hungry after a couple hours so headed to the jídelna (public cafeteria/milk bar) and ordered from my favorite lady there, and she told me she's noticed that my Czech has been getting better recently. I said "You really think so??" I don't know how much she can really ascertain from our short conversations, but it was still a nice interaction. I decided to go to the city center to buy some yarn and to look for an instant camera to take to Slovenia. On the way between the jídelna and the next tram stop there's a busy road with a really weird intersection you have to cross. It's hard to explain, but basically the pedestrians and the tram go straight, but at the same time the cars get a signal to go kind of straight and then left. -there's a line for them to stop behind but they also have a green light, so it's confusing if you don't know what to expect. So me and a bunch of other people starting crossing the street, and I was admiring this woman's coat. Before I can even register what's happening, a car is flying full speed toward pedestrians ahead of me in the crosswalk. He managed to stop at the last minute, but it was so freaky. I realized after that that the tram was coming and he was trying to avoid getting hit by the tram, but he genuinely almost killed people trying to save his car. Like at that speed, people would have actually died. I don't even understand how he got up to that speed in the short distance between the car lane and the crosswalk. Anyway. i was still in a cloud of dissociation from the pain going "oooh Marimekko"...

Went to the craft store, picked out some yarn, then headed to the drugstore next door looking for an instant camera. I walk in, and there are like swarms of people waiting to check out which isn't normal, or at least I haven't seen it, so that took me by surprise. My eyes felt a little weird, but i thought they were just adjusting to the fluorescent lighting. Realized very quickly that they were migraine auras that just happened to coincide with walking into the store. So I had to haul ass out of there to get home and lay in the dark. Still don't know if they had the cameras there or not. When I have migraine auras, there is weird super rapid movement on the left side of my field of vision and my eyes can't focus on anything unless I really concentrate and it messes up my balance as well, so it's very difficult to like... be in public... alone... in rush hour... taking public transit lol... but I managed. The aura precedes the headache, but if I try to push through the auras, then the nausea comes, so I've learned I have to take the L as soon as I identify the auras and just abandon whatever I'm doing.

But yeah i was already in pain walking from the bloating, and then with the auras, my balance gets thrown off so it was a total comedy of errors getting home ahaha. Anyway made it home ok. Still having what I call migraine aftershocks, but the main part is over. But basically, I'm writing all this because I've been getting twice-yearly migraines for 15 years and I've learned how to cope with them, but I still haven't been able to identify a migraine trigger!!! So I tried to think back on my day to figure it out, but my day was so fucking crazy so who even knows lmao

Oh I realized I forgot to mention, I also felt this weird kind of numbness in my nose and face which is a new symptom I only first had last time, but I looked it up and it is listed as a migraine symptom. Not relevant, but yes