#i need to write about his brother his parasite and..much more

[merichita]

(Goddamn I was finally able to write at least my character's personality and more, buaa. Btw this was translated so any mistakes are not my fault!)

Dr. Harlow

Personality:

Kind and calm at first sight but inside he is just someone empty who needs to use everything in his favor to survive and cure himself of the parasite that consumes him. Harlow is the type of person who will always be kind to manipulate others for their own good, he resorts to this only when it is new information about a possible cure for his parasite or also for other personal reasons, you never know...He has the perfectionism syndrome, where you want to achieve impossible goals and have everything perfect at the same time, which can be understandable due to where you work and what you specialize in, nuclear physics and radiation. He is a little "dishonest" with his own things, in fact almost all of his sanity has worsened since he became home to the parasite or rather: part of it. Even so, his morality is based on the fact that death is not the solution to diseases, that there may be something far beyond where we can find a cure for everything. Basically someone very ambitious for the common "good", he is such an excellent persuader that you will not realize the consequences of the actions required by Harlow's request. He still tries to be useful and help, understand and seek cures, these thoughts originated in his childhood.

He has a fear of getting sick, since his body does not have the best defenses like others. This fear originated as a child and continued until he was an adult, but now with the parasite he no longer gets sick as often, according to his words...Something that not even he admits is that he has hysteria, influenced by his family, specifically his mother's family, deep down he lies to himself that everything is fine with his mentality and health, although not be true.

Family and childhood:

Mother, father and a younger brother! (I will talk about him later since they are both united in each other) childhood is considered the helplessness of not being able to have done anything to cure his mother of her madness. When Harlow was born she was occasionally mistaken for being delicate because she got sick quickly, which her mother associated with her being a "delicate child" and was given the name "Lily" whenever her mother was awake or quiet...Her mother suffered from schizophrenia and was also influenced by family hysteria, which is why she often had violent attacks on her own children. Harlow's father was not present at all, probably sleeping with other women because his wife did not satisfy him for being "crazy." And lastly, to his brother, when he was born, Harlow always protected him from his mother's outbursts so they were always together like this, although their relationship is too complicated at the moment, they are both on thin ice and if they make a bad step everything will crumbles. (I will talk about this when I upload information about the brother since he is another of my ocs that I want to talk about :3!)

SCP Foundation:

He discovered the SCP foundation by persuading a co-worker about where he worked, successfully getting his co-worker to take his recommendation to the SCP foundation, which worked well, and he was admitted and joined the research department, specializing in nuclear physics and radiation, thus over time raising the security level with a lot of effort. He has too much grudge against 05 because they did nothing regarding the parasite case, yet he refrained from doing anything foolish knowing that he is on thin ice with them so he continued to be cooperative with the SCP Foundation to have more trust from his superiors and make the most of it. He mostly isn't so hard on the newbies because he somehow feels some empathy because he reminds him of his brother. So if you see a man waving at you from a distance, get closer, he's just the one wanting to start a conversation with you and get to know you better.

Personal data and details!!

(his clothes, his open eyes and how his hair works)

• Has nosophobia and hysteria

• The brooch that he wears around his neck was a gift from his mother, his brother also wears one of his but the jewel is a different color than his.

• During a containment breach he met SCP-706, where they had a small talk where they became friends, since that day Harlow occasionally visits SCP-706's containment cell as he sees her as a younger sister.

• The four little moles under each eye is something unique among his family that was inherited from his mother

• His favorite animals are owls and seals

• he is a person who can convince anyone of anything

• His favorite flower is hydrangeas and the ones he hates the most are lilies.

• he calls himself with his last name but never with his first name, since he has never mentioned it.

• One of the employees who has never gone to therapy and does not even attend the monthly psychological evaluations, ignoring that, no matter how much he needs it.

[violinios]

Corrupted!Dream

What if he ate the golden apples? More information below! (This au is not finished yet)

Some facts about him:

I wanted to use roots with thorns to reference Nightmare's tentacles, and also to recall the roots of a tree, like the tree the two guardians used to protect. It comes out of Dream's back, and the first time they came out, right after being corrupted by positivity, they tore the back of his clothes and his cape, so he eventually changed the clothes he was wearing, but the old cape remained. Another reference to Nightmare in his design are the yellow and purple carnations in his left eye, not only because of the meaning of the flowers themselves, but because Nightmare of the goo covering one of his eyes, so I decided to do something similar, but with plants instead of slime. Dream is blind from the left eye after gotten attack from defending his brother from the villagers.

As for the meaning of the colors of the carnations that come out of his eye, I did very brief research, so don't take the meanings I'll write here for certainty. Yellow carnations represent rejection and purple ones represent loneliness. Although they are attached to Dream's body, they represent Nightmare's feelings towards the villagers who often mistreated him. The flowers grew after the corruption and after Dream discovered what they did to his brother.

What is controlling Dream's body now is not Dream himself, but rather a parasite that has taken over his body and identity, while the real Dream remains semi-conscious and unable to regain control of his body.

He feeds on positive feelings and his objective is to exterminate negativity for his own survival. He is not capable of feeling remorse, and will not be afraid to exterminate an entire universe if it has a very strong negative aura (like universes that follow the genocidal route, for example), but he cannot visit these universes alone since his magic works using positivity as "fuel", so he's dependent on allies to travel to negative universes.

He doesn't kill because of his moral compass and doesn't really care about what's right or what's wrong, who's good who's bad, he will kill them anyways if their negative aura is enough to give him a headache. This means he will kill innocent people who hold suffering on themselfs only to end with their negativity.

He calls himself a hero/savior/angel to manipulate people with false promises, when in reality, he only acts out of his own needs and survival instinct, not actual kidness.

There's only one who is full of negativity that Dream wants alive; for now, names won't be mentioned (who the person/monster is still not decided, it can be an already existing character or maybe i'll make an OC for this, but for now, feel free to imagine whoever you want to imagine) but their aura, somehow, makes the burning feeling of overwhelming positivity inside of Dream feel a bit less like it's burning. Yes, the positivity is too much even for Dream to the point it feels like it's burning from inside (remember how in original Dreamtale, a human body would barely even survive with the amount of energy the magic held inside the siblings body? Well, now imagine that now the magic way more powerful to the point that even his skeleton body hurts sometimes), and their negativity makes it feel less painful.

He is not completely incapable of feeling negative feelings, but it is VERY rare. Some examples are his fear of owls, a trait from the original Dream that remained, or the anger he feels when he is disobeyed.

He killed the citizens of the village when he saw the amount of negative feelings they caused his own brother. At first, he didn't want to kill Nightmare, but after he saw Nightmare attack him after the genocide he caused, Dream now seeks to kill him as well. He thinks of him as ungrateful for trying to hurt him after finishing off the people who caused him so much suffering, and he blames himself for leaving him alive, knowing that he is also the result of negativity.

Nightmare doesn't want to kill Dream, because he knows that the balance in the multiverse is important and it is their existence that causes it to exist, he just fights against him to not be killed and when some universe/being is being hurt by Dream. He wants to find a way to bring his brother back to consciousness, he still wonders if he could kill the parasite without killing Dream too. Dream, on the other hand, doesn't care about the balance.

His spines possess a poison that gives his prey the illusion of comfort, hiding the sensation of pain and fear within his own positive aura so that they do not escape when captured. It is rare for their prey to regain consciousness to realize the danger they are in, but not impossible, and some may be immune to the venom or his aura, like Nightmare, who'd feel a big pain if he got captured, which is a good advantage if you don't want to be trapped with Dream forever or eventually die.

[dreadpirateella]

uhhhh so I couldn't wait and finished The Neon Void... AND I HAVE THOUGHTS

putting a cut here bc this is gonna be loooong

and spoilers for all of Neon Void ofc

Dude ok just the writing in this?? This fic is SO well written like omg. All of the action scenes come across SO well, and as someone who can't write a fight scene to save my life, I just really appreciate that. Everything is so easy to follow.

AND THE DIALOGUE???? SO perfect omg. Everything felt so in character like this could be a whole season of the show. The way Leo's hysteria is written is just so crazy and so incredible. Like it's so clear that he's losing his mind but also so clear that he's still Leo. I'm just in love with it

and the looming threat of the Krang parasite?? Such a good like consistent villain. You can never go too long without remembering its presence and realizing what a massive threat it is!

The miscommunication between Leo and everyone else about what he plans to do with the key is also just incredible. The way they thought he was so far gone as to use it to release the Krang? That's just so heartbreaking.

AND THE REVEAL???? I just need to talk about it like genuinely it's SO well done. It feels a little out of nowhere (/pos!!!) and I really think it works bc it just totally catches everyone by surprise. Leo not even realizing that he's exposed until a few seconds pass it just perfect. Wondering why his entire family is staring at him like that and then realizing that they know is just *chefs kiss*

I LOVE everyone's anger when Void messed with Leo's stuff. Him stealing Donnie's bracelet and messing up his room, like you can feel the anger from the rest of the family and it's SO good.

also side note??? Mikey cutting Leo's arm off??? freaking awesome I LOVE when Mikey gets to go crazy

The emotions in this fic are just SO palpable. Like I felt the grief and heartache and confusion and anger radiating off of these characters through my screen. Every chapter is just so soaked with emotion it's freaking incredible. The writing in this fic is just phenomenal.

The brother's ninpo calming down and comforting Leo is also just such a good little repeated detail. Leo finally being able to contact his ancestors because he's back with his family once again is just SO good and so sweet. Karai is the most comforting presence known to man 😭

AND FUTURE LEO AT THE END???? was NOT expecting that I love it so dang much. Everyone in Leo's little mindscape journey at the end just yelling at him to go back to his family is just so so so sweet to read. And Leo's decision when he destroyed the key to stay with his family was just so beautiful. It just felt so right.

And everyone's reactions to every situation just feel so natural!!! I was reading it and something would happen and I'd be like of course that's how they'd respond to that! All of the Hamatos having that realization hit them that yes this is Leo and yes he's actually here is just so bittersweet to read. Knowing they grieved for FIVE years and now here he is right in front of them. It's just so emotional

I'm definitely gonna have more thoughts about this as more time passes so maybe expect more rambles?? and maybe some fanart too!!! Void's design is just too cool not to draw.

This fic sent me on a roller-coaster of emotions and I couldn't be more thankful for it. Thank you SO MUCH @sugarpasteltmnt for writing and sharing this incredible piece of art with all of us. You're incredible.

TLDR: I'm in love with this fic please go read it I'm gonna think about it for the rest of my life

[graycomfort]

I have an idea to write something heavy. David naturally has better communication skills than Simon. Simon is more unhappy, which makes him insecure, whereas David does not have this quality and can flirt with Sophie. Girls love bad boys. And as a result, Simon may catch them in an intimate moment or simply realize that he will never get Sophie back and become even more depressed. David may pester Sophie or the reader, or Simon will meet the reader after catching David and Sophie together.

+ "I am adding to the previous post. David makes Sophie fall in love with him. Simon had known David since he found out Sophie was with him. and when Henrikson becomes disabled, he says his signature phrase at a meeting with Leatherhoff. And the reader could call an ambulance for Simon"

Simon Hennrikson x Gn! Reader - Shouldn't - Part 1

Pairings: Sophie x David Leatherhoff, Simon Hennrikson x Reader

Synopsis: Your best friend Sophie falls in love with your brother, David. Simon isn't too happy about that, but maybe something good can come of it.

Everyone in this story is an asshole, but I'm so sorry David and Sophie lovers! I WILL TRY TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!!!! Masterlist

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting!!! I'm so sorry for going a bit off-topic from the prompt you asked of me, and for taking such a long time. I had struggled a bit while writing it, and I ain't too happy with the outcome. I'M SORRY IF IT DOESN'T MAKE MUCH SENSE WAHHHHH

Contents: Two best friends drifting apart due to a relationship, everyone is an asshole in one way or another, eating ham pizza (just exchange it for something else if you don't eat meat or don't like pizza in general), one use of Y/N, unhealthy relationship, angst??? Word count: ~2.5k

"Oi, bro bro. Borrow me one of your Wii controllers, please." I said as soon as I entered my brother's room. David got startled, as I didn't even bother to knock, and dropped his joint on the carpet below. "Fucking hell." He muttered as he picked it back up. The carpet was now decorated with yet another burn mark as it wasn't a rare occurrence. "Don't you have two of them yourself?" He answered in a gruff voice of his. "If I didn't need one I wouldn't even waste my time talking to you. But I broke one of them and I need two." I crossed my arms as the conversation could have been very much avoided. "What for?" I groaned as he dragged out the conversation on purpose. "To play the other one with my feet, obviously." I stated with sarcasm seeping from my words. "I'm having a friend over, what else would I need two for, you idiot!" "You're weird as shit, I would have believed the first one." He said with an eye-roll as he stood up.

"So can I have it??" "Yes, Jesus, gimme a second to get it, you fucking parasite." His movements were sloppy, as expected from a guy who has taken more drugs today than I have drunk water this week. "Says you." But he didn't lie and within a minute the controller you needed was in your hands. "Thanks, will return it when she goes home." I was ready to leave, I only got to turn around before David spoke up again. "She? You're having a laddyy over! Is she pretty??" I turned my head at the question. Staring into his red eyes with obvious disgust. "Whatever is going through that drugged-up mind of yours, quit it." He shrugged. "If you're not interested I might be." He said with a cheeky tone. "No." I didn't even bother to argue with a guy who possibly couldn't even see who was in front of him.

But it did make me worried. I prayed all he said was a joke and that he wouldn't advance on her. He would be such a bad influence on a such sweet girl like her. I didn't even get to my room as a knock sounded on the front door. "I'll get it!" Was heard as a black smudge ran past me. The most coordination I have seen him manage to keep in a while. Oh, you motherfucker.

David opened the upper lock on the door and swung it open. Before the squeaky door, which had a "Leatherhoff" doorplate glued to it, stood an average heightened brunette girl. It was the first time I had ever invited her to my house, so she was caught off guard at the sight of a disheveled-looking man. "Oh my, why do I have the pleasure of seeing an angel at my doorstep?" She was not prepared to be hit on the second the door opened. The fact that most interactions she had with men had been bullying from her schoolmates. It weirded her out, yet kinda felt pleasant. What she was supposed to say she didn't know.

"Is this wh-" Before she could finish her sentence, the dark-haired man was forcefully shoved out of the way by a familiar to her face. "Move it, pothead." I stabilized myself after the strong push and made way so the said girl could enter. "Please come in, Sophie. And don't mind my idiotic brother." As I was mentioning him I shoved my elbow into his ribs. Which he winced at.

Sophie looked so unsure of the whole shit show before her, but in the end, she did enter my household. As soon as she took off her shoes I rushed her into my room. I sent one last glare in the direction of my brother before he fled back to his room annoyed. Sophie looked at me and said in a slight whisper "Was he…?" Her hand raised to point at her eyes. "High? Yeah." I said with a tired tone and threw myself on my bed. "I'm sorry that it was the first thing you saw here." I stared at her worried. I really didn't want her to judge me based on my brother. But Sophie just waved her raised hand. "Ah, don't worry about it. He was sweet to me." The worried look quickly got replaced with disgust. I fake gagged. "Ugh, girl nah!!" She laughed at my reaction and sat down next to me.

She grabbed her bag and took out a few crinkly pages. "I got you the notes you wanted. Sorry, they're kinda smugged… got pushed into a puddle…" Her mood suddenly dropped at the mention of the accident. I sighed with anger. "Fuck. That's the second time this week, I wish I was there to pay them back." Sophie smiled at the sign of care and looked up at me as I took the papers. "Don't worry, Simon was there and stood up for me." She paused for a second. "I should introduce you two to each other, I feel like you two would have a lot in common. And he could use some socializing…"

I recognized the name, but couldn't pinpoint it to a face though. As it was mostly obscured by the hood of the hoodie he always wore. It surprised you when Sophie said he stood up for her or let alone that he's her friend, as he seemed very reserved and mostly kept to himself. Usually spending breaks and sometimes even classes, listening to music, or sleeping. I couldn't blame him, I would have probably done the same thing. Yet I really wanna show the school am I better than my deadbeat brother who used to go to this school. Most of the teachers had a sour look on their faces the first time they read my last name while taking note of the attendance. I feel like I have succeeded in showing them I'm nothing like him. But the pressure to keep up the good act was still there.

"Yeah sure, I will gladly meet him. He seems like a good guy." Sophie smiled at me, she felt glad. "He is, he is. I mean yeah, he can get a bit too much sometimes. But I'm guessing that's mostly because he doesn't have any other friends than me." I hummed back at the information. The conversation diverted into many different topics before we could even get to the main point of our hangout. Playing on the Wii. Just dance, Wii Sports, etc. We played any party games we could find in my library of games until we got tired. Sophie was pretty skilled at playing those even tho she doesn't really own any gaming equipment. I was glad to give her access to mine as she seemed to enjoy it very much. The room was filled with movement, laughter, and overall fun.

It was all interrupted eventually by the door getting swung open by David. I was about to tell him off before I noticed that he actually had a reason to come in here. "Mom ordered pizza. This one's for you two. It's ham, I think." I stood up from my bed and took the pizza from his hand. Sophie was right behind me. "Great timing! I'm starving" She leaned over my shoulder, placing her hands on them. "It smells so good!" I looked at David, who's focus was on Sophie. "Tell Mom we said thanks." And with that I went back to my bed, taking the pizza with me. Before Sophie went back herself, she turned to David. "Thank you for bringing it to us." She smiled, which was replicated by David. "No problem, beautiful." I groaned before Sophie had a chance to reply. "C'mon. It's gonna get cold if you keep chit-chatting." David signed and grabbed the door handle. "Maybe another time." With that he left, closing the door behind him.

I was very much annoyed with the forceful flirting he was showering Sophie with. The girl didn't see anything wrong with David's actions. As she was appreciating all the positive words sent her way. As it wasn't a common thing in her life. Sophie came back and opened the pizza box as I was too deep in my thoughts. I was brought back to reality when I felt a warm scratchy texture in my hand. As Sophie put one of the pieces in it. David was right, Sophie was an angel. He was right about the pizza too, it is indeed ham.

It started to get dark once we finished eating. "I should better be going. It's getting dark." I glanced outside only now noticing the dark grayish sky. "Man…" "Yeah…" Sophie didn't look too happy about it just like me. I stood up and Sophie grabbed her things. "I had a lot of fun, we should do it more often!" She beamed as I replied with a nod. "Definitely!"

As we got out of my room, we met my mom in the hallway. "Ah miss Leatherhoff. Thank you for the pizza and for having me!" Mom waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, my dear. It got late, why don't Y/n's brother drive you home." She smiled sweetly. Sophie started to get worried, as she had just seen him high a few hours ago.

"I don't know, ma." I said worried about Sophie's safety. My mom didn't really listen as she called out for David to come to the hallway. It didn't take long till he came out of his room. "Yeah? What is it?" David seemed better, his eyes less red as if it wore off. Yet I still didn't trust him. You couldn't bring it up to Mom, it was a very sensitive topic. She chooses to be oblivious to her son's obvious addiction.

"Could you give Sophie a ride back home?" David looked confused at who she meant. Looking next to her, he saw his annoyed sibling and the brunette girl he hit on earlier. Just now remembering that it was her name. "Yeah, sure. Lemme just grab my keys." David disappeared again and then appeared back in the hallway quickly with his car keys in hand.

I was so displeased with the situation at hand. "Something happens to Sophie and you're fucking dead, David." I glared at him. "Y/n! Language!" My mom said before David spoke up to his defense. "Chill, nothing will happen. You know I'm an amazing driver." I raised my eyebrow. "Oh, are you now?" David sent a glare back at you. "Enough of that." Our mom spoke up.

I signed and went to hug Sophie goodbye. Before I let them leave I spoke up one last time. "Text me the second something happens or when you get home, okay?" "Okay, okay. I should be fine." She said as if she wasn't sure herself. They both put their coats and shoes on and left. I stood there looking at the door a second longer. Worried thoughts filled my brain.

And I was right. I couldn't stop David from entering my room while Sophie was there. But I couldn't stop the text messages. I don't know when they started texting. Possibly they exchanged numbers when he drove her home. It didn't matter. What mattered was that my conversations with Sophie started to get filled with 'You will never guess what David said' 'David did this' 'David' and 'David'. I would have been happy for her. If it wasn't my druggie of a brother she was talking about.

I suggested to her plenty of times that maybe she could go for Simon. "Have you seen how he looks at you? He definitely likes you!" At this point, I started to sound desperate. "Maybe… but I just don't see him that way. I like him, just not like that." I felt defeated.

Then the unavoidable happened. It was a very quiet break, there was maybe one more person in the classroom besides me. Sophie came so excited to my desk. "You won't believe it!" I looked up at her from my notes. "What?" I should have been already prepared for what she was about to say. "David and I are dating!" But I wasn't.

"Åh, cool!" I tried not to show how displeased I was with what she just announced to me. My eyes made a connection with the notes again. "Something wrong?" She asked and I really wanted to tell her the truth. I didn't wanna be a bad guy in her eyes. She was love-struck, and David made her happy. So I lied. I looked up at her with a fake grin. "Åh, nej. I'm happy for you two! I'm just a little tired and studying for today's exam is killing me.'" "Åh, I'm sorry! I will let you be! Good luck!" With that, she was gone. I watched her leave as if it was gonna be the last time I saw her. When she was out of my sight I sighed.

Hangouts at my house changed from just us two hanging out. David started joining us more and more often. With time it was David who invited her, not me. I didn't have to, she was here at least once a week anyway. At some point, I stopped going out of my room to them. Lying that I wasn't feeling too good.

Sophie did realize after a few times that I didn't come out of my room on purpose. So she decided to make plans in advance that involved going outside. So I couldn't hide in my room. She came up to me at school. "Hej, are you maybe free this weekend?" I pondered for a second. "Um, I don't think I have anything planned, why?" "How about we get some coffee this weekend? Me, you, David, and I will also invite Simon!" I really wanted to decline the offer. I was hoping it was gonna just the two of us, but of course, David had to be there too. But I do remember agreeing to meet Simon tho. Maybe he being there with us was gonna make it at least a bit less awkward, so I agreed.

"Yeah, sure." She seemed to relax at my answer. "Good! I will send you the details once I invite the rest." I was glad she still cared about our friendship. I felt a bit of an asshole for avoiding her when she came over. But I had my reasons.

A few classes later I felt my phone buzz. 'Saturday 1 p.m sounds alright to you?' was a message sent by Sophie. I replied with a thumbs-up to it and put my phone back in my pocket. The thought of regret filled my brain, but I couldn't back out now.

A few uneventful days went by till it was Saturday. It was Saturday at 12 a.m right now. I got ready for the day early, trying to look at least a bit decently since it's not gonna be just you three. I wondered what kind of person Siomn was, as Sophie's description and my own observations didn't give me much to work with.

The door to my room was open, and he stood in it. I chose to ignore him until he spoke up himself. The person in the hallway did not cross the threshold and spoke to me from where he was standing. "Are you ready to go?" It was David who, despite your relationship souring even more since he met Sophie, offered to give me a lift. "Yeah." The room was filled with an awkward silence as I picked up my things.

He moved away from the door and waited for me to put on my coat and shoes. My pace was clearly too slow for him as he passed by me and went straight for the door. "We're leaving!" He shouted to our mom who shouted back to us about being careful. And then he left. Shortly after I left the house myself, locking it behind me.

[iamjacksragingboner]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy Pt. 2

Chapter 1

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: None

A/N: Chapter two is finally here! Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, whatever you celebrate, and hope NYE is just as good! I’m not home from holiday yet but apparently that didn’t stop me from writing a little whenever I could on holiday. Hope you enjoy this chapter as they get a little more familiar with each other :3 Reblogs appreciated!! <3

Horrific first impressions aside, you were ready to embrace this Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish character as one of your own. Sure, you had been mere moments from cracking him over the head with a bottle and feeding him by hand to the vultures, but if Simon could put up with him then you could too. Perhaps you had just caught him on a bad day.

You shook his hand amicably, choosing to ignore the way he winked at you and held onto your hand just a little too long for your liking, having to practically wrench your hand out from his grip. You stood with an albeit strained smile on your face as Simon, in one of his rare moods for excited talking, regaled tales of him and Soap out on horses in towns further from here than you could ever imagine. You even politely offered to bring Soap’s dinner up to his room later for him, after he complained that his ass was aching from sitting on a horse for too long.

“Ah, maybe I can teach ye some of my trade secret massage techniques to use on me, aye lass?” He copped a swift smack on the head from Simon for that comment, and you took a smoke break.

With the sun setting before you, smoke from your cigarette tiredly billowing in front of you, the chatter from the bar dying out, you sighed. Sliding down with your back on the wall to sit in the dirt, you ran your hand through your hair.

You enjoyed keeping yourself busy; kept you from thinking too much. But in those quiet moments where you snuck off to smoke, you sometimes found comfort in the way your brain still seemed to careen with life, even in silence. At the moment, it seemed to be fixated on your parents, and the tavern they left to you and your brother in their passing.

You were so young then.

Don’t think about it.

The faint sound of a glass smashing was what dragged you back to earth, back into the bar, broom in hand and smoke still whispering its way from your lips. You swept mindlessly, still not all present. You had failed to recall the other times, where the silence was hostile, would bite and claw its way into your sides and sink its teeth in like a parasite.

The hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you felt someone walk just a little too close behind you, and you weren’t at all surprised to look up and see that it was Soap that had invaded your space. You slid uncomfortably back into reality.

“Here, lemme help ye with that one, lass.” Before you could even begin to say you didn’t need help with sweeping, Soap was already on his knees in front of you. Continuing the theme of doing things before you could tell him not to, he was scooping the glass into his bare hands, and then immediately hissing as blood began to weep from a cut on his finger.

You rolled your eyes and propped the broom up on the wall beside you, before kneeling down with Soap. “Stupid,” you muttered, before gently ridding his hands of the glass and clutching his injured one in your own. “What were you expecting, picking up broken glass with your bare hands like that.”

Soap shrugged, his eyes glued on your face instead of his bleeding hand, a detail which you avidly ignored. “Dunno,” he said simply, and you thought he was finished—any other cowboy would end the conversation there, stick with the fact that they don’t know jack and be on their merry way. Unfortunately, Soap wasn’t any other cowboy. “Could ye kiss it better for me, bonnie?”

You dropped his hand with a curt “you’re fine,” and averted your attention to the glass on the floor, sweeping it into a dish rag to take outside, Soap’s cackles accompanying you out the door.

Just as you finish dumping the glass where no one would step on it, you were greeted once a with Soap as you turned around.

“Was only jokin’, lass,” he says with a smirk that told you he probably wasn’t. “Don’t get yer panties in a knot, ‘sides, already got the whole talk from yer brother.” He placed a hand over his heart and spoke solemnly, “I’m not ta touch a hair on yer wee bonnie head, else Ghost’ll never ride with me again.” He began to saunter up to you, hands in his pockets and his head at an annoying tilt that feigned innocence.

Like a dog.

“I know ye were mighty excited at the prospect of gettin’ that massage from me, maybe even gettin’ a little somethin’ else.” He circled you, like he was sizing you up, seeing if you were fit to eat. “But alas, we’re out of luck.” A large, rough hand placed on your shoulder, not yet a threat, but enough of a presence that it could quickly become one if he wanted it to—they were hands that he knew how to use. “Although…”

More like a wolf, or a coyote. Big teeth.

You brushed off his hand with a little more haste than you intended. “Sorry,” you said, a bitter glare burning from your eyes but not quite seeming to register in his, “but I’m not interested. Your room is upstairs, two doors down, on the right.” You patted him on the shoulder in a not quite friendly, but not quite aggressive kind of way, and headed into the bar to start closing up.

-

Simon caught you just as you were bidding goodbye to the last few stragglers to leave, a plate of food in his hands. “Oh, I’ve already eaten, Si, but thank you,” you said, warmly.

“Oh, this ain’t for you,” Simon chuckled, and flicked his head to the ceiling. “‘s for Johnny—you said you’d bring it up to him. I would, but I’ve got my hands full with matters outside.”

Cowboy matters, you were sure. Riveting stuff. The speed at which the smile dropped from your face was surely record breaking. You took the plate from his hands and bid your brother goodnight, feeling at the very least glad that he was in a good mood. Regardless of whether that mood had anything to do with the cowboy upstairs, Simon being happy was a good thing.

Biting back any reservations you had towards interacting with that fiend again, you climbed trepidatiously up the stairs to Soap’s room. You stood in front of the door, searching inside yourself for any ounce of kindness. He had been nothing but unpleasant to be around any time you spoke, but surely, surely he had to be at least semi decent for Simon to think so highly of him.

You knocked and you waited.

And waited.

And waited.

For a moment you thought, with a little glee, that perhaps he had gone and died, but much to your chagrin, he opened the door.

“Sorry ta keep ye waitin’, lass. Was just putting’ my clothes back on—didn’t wanna startle ye.” Soap was stood in the doorway, looming over you like some sort of predator, with a smirk on his face that said he’d like to do much more than startle you. He was sweating too, the gross hound.

“Dinner,” you said, simply, offering up the plate to him with the most polite expression you could muster, under the current circumstances. Your eyelid twitched.

Soap’s attention seemed to flick immediately to the food before him, and he lit up, rubbing his hands in glee. “Och yer an angel, ‘m bloody starvin’, come in, come in.” He ushered you into the room as if he were some sort of welcoming host and you were his eager guest.

Each guest room in the tavern was laid out much the same. A double bed, a table with two chairs and a bucket with some water and a rag, in case whoever was in there wanted to wash. You pressed yourself flat against the closed door as Soap set the plate down on the table nearby, breath hitching in pain as he did so. Your brows furrowed in concern.

“Everything alright there?” You asked, trying to be civil. You wished you hadn’t.

Soap clutched his finger and let out a wailing mockery of pain, catching you completely off guard. “Woe is me! My poor finger, lass! Still it weeps in pain and anguish!”

“Will you keep it down!” you hissed, eyes wide and alert as you rushed to him. “There are people trying to sleep here! Besides, it’s just a tiny cut, you’re fine.”

“Ohh but it’s not fine! I need a little kiss on my wound from a lovely bonnie lass to heal my ails and raise my spirits! Please oh please will ye kiss it better?”

You startled, coming to the abrupt realisation that perhaps this was the reason Simon liked the guy—he was kinda funny (if you squinted real hard and stood at a distance). You chuckled, finding a smile on your lips for the first time since you began interacting with him, and shushed him like a child. “Okay, okay, but only if you promise to keep it down.”

The grin on Soap’s face could have melted glaciers. It wasn’t a bad look, and you were struck with the thought that if he never opened his mouth to speak again, maybe he could be attractive. He was practically glowing as he thrust his finger towards you, wrapping it in your hands. His hand was warm. “Of course, lass, I promise, cowboy’s honour and all that—just give it a wee smooch for me.”

You scoffed but obliged anyway. ‘What’s the harm in entertaining him anyway,’ you thought, raising his finger to your lips.

It was much more intimate of an act than you anticipated—the way he seemed to fall completely silent, not even breathing, in fact you weren’t even sure if you yourself were breathing. The way his finger felt, cushioned against your pouting lips, the way he could have stuck his finger in your mouth so easily if he had chosen to. The way he seemed to shudder, as you kissed his finger, as if this alone was pleasure enough for him.

You let go of his hand the minute if felt too intimate for you, laughing dismissively. “Stupid,” you murmured, averting your gaze.

Soap, on the other hand, was thrilled. He held his hand close to his heart, muttered “I’ll never wash my finger again,” and pressed it to his own lips, making sure to look directly at you.

“That was foul,” you said simply.

“Cannae believe we just had our first kiss!”

“That was not a kiss, that was me kissing your finger and then you kissing your finger after.”

“We’re practically married now, bonnie!”

“You’re insane.”

“D’ye think ol’ Ghost’ll officiate our wedding?”

“You’re delusional. Eat. Your food’s getting cold.”

Soap moved to the table and gestured to the chair opposite his. “Sit! We can have our first meal together as husband and wife,” he exclaimed, propping his chin on his hands like an eager child.

You shook your head, a faint smile still lingering on your lips despite your still remaining reservations about the man before you. “No, Soap, I’m okay. I really should be getting to bed now.”

Soap’s brow furrowed, and for once you saw an emotion on his face other than a smug, confident grin. It startled you, if only a little. “Come on, lass, just stay for a little, I’ll even feed ye some if ye want?”

“Goodnight, Soap.” You turned to leave, but a hand on your wrist stopped you. You did not turn to face him. You would not.

“Please, lass. Stay. I just…”

“Goodnight. Soap.” You brushed his hand off, leaving before he could think of a way to finish his sentence, before you could see the way his lips downturned. Your bed was cold that night, and you dreamt of Soap finishing his cold meal on his own, and lying down in his own cold bed. In another world, maybe you could have found it in yourself to regret it.

[coolingrosa]

A question I've had since I've been watching ur Roseverse content is: In RV there's a clear divide between mortal Sanses and immortal Sanses from what I can see, especially when it was talked about in the pilot. This begs the question: Is Ink actually a mortal? Because it's canonical that Ink was once a *child* and *grew*, and it's also clear Ink is also still soulless in RV. If he isn't mortal and is indeed immortal, does that mean at one point every immortal Sans was once a child and *grew* up? If this is just a personal choice of writing/characterization I'm not critiquing or hating on it! It just intrigues me very much and raises some questions

Hello! I figured I would eventually get questions along these lines, and sometimes I forget people who arrived from the pilot wouldn’t know this, so here is some RoseVerse lore building that was in the OG lore doc:

Immortal beings are split into a wide variety of groups, species, and classification. There’s a hierarchy between them, with Fate and Destiny at the top and Player and Core Chara at the bottom, right below Core Frisk. For mortals, respect is given to all immortals. However, due to this hierarchy, those at the bottom are ignored or treated as less than by those with more power. It also means they have less connections to aging natural if you’re lower on the scale.

Player, Core Chara, and Core Frisk are examples of corrupted codes making them forever stuck at the age of when they became an immortal for the first time. They had to die in order to live forever- as they are kinda like Geno (their bodies are forever stuck in time and paused) So, they do not mature past the age they died nor grow. They are called Demi-gods in the lore- or simply deities.

With full Gods, it’s not about bloodline. You meet the qualifications of a god if you are immortal, and you posses power over a certain idea, function, or way of life that sways the lives of the mortals. Ex: Reaper isn’t considered a god just because he was born from another- but because he’s over the concept of Death and serves as a reaper. Some are created as adults while others are created as children. The Reapertale God structure is based off of Greek mythology where child Gods were still birthed/created and grew. Ink is not from Reapertale, and is ranked below the Reapertale gods, but he’s still considered a full god due to him being over creation.

Ink was a god that was created and popped into existence at four years old due to insufficient power from his creator. He had a soul as a child and when Error found him, he was also in the midst of still growing too, as Error was only nineteen. Gods completely reach maturity at 25 years old, and it takes them many centuries to actually reach that age, much longer than humans. It’s why little gods are not typically created without someone able to look after them- and they have a special aura about them that makes them latch onto the first person they see so they can grow. Call it a parasite…but that’s just how they are. Little Gods are still able to die, especially since they are so young. They aren’t in tune with their magic, and a fatal incident will kill them or leave them permanently disfigured. It’s a survival instinct and magical ability that keeps them safe and keeps their distracted godly parents hyper focused on them until they reach 13 and can primarily fend for themselves. (Keep in mind they are Gods. Though they don’t fully mature until 25, they are still able to fend for themselves a lot more than a fully adult human, even as children. Once they aren’t as delicate, the parents don’t constantly need to look after them- which is why Reaper was forced to start working more when he reached that age.)

Error latched onto Ink due to this aura, and became his older brother instantly bc he was overcome by the need to take care of Ink. Like reverse imprinting

He does genuinely care for Ink- don’t get it twisted. Even if Ink didn’t have that aura, Error would be less inclined to leave him behind. But in “Wilted”, Error would not have saved Ink from getting run over if Ink wasn’t an god child. However, he felt like his whole world was going to shatter if he didn’t save him- so he did.

It’s also why Error hasn’t recovered from Ink’s assumed death. Ink was only 11. He wasn’t ready to be on his own yet. Error feels like a failure both mentally and also instinct wise, and that grief is horrid and painful. He lost his baby, and failed as a guardian and a God by letting a godly child disappear like that. It’s…rough. Nightmare deals with a similar type of grief emotionally wise, but not so much instinct wise. He misses Ink everyday, but in a typical grief way (not belittling what he deals with. He mourns him greatly and loved him like his own kin. He’s just as hurt as Error is in that regard.) Error’s is just…more…extreme

How Ink lost his soul as an adult tho? Cant say that yet…

[samwinchestersbf]

"I Will"

Sam Winchester x Reader

This was based on Mitski's song, I just love her music so much.

Authors note: Suprise!! A comfort fic!! I haven't been doing the best lately, my mental health is really getting to me. I think writing this may help :) Beware of any writing mistakes, it's 4 am right now so criticism is welcomed. (silly hours for me) Non-specific reader and this one might be a little small.

Reblogs are appreciated!! <3

He was always so caring and lovely no matter what, you knew that.

However, something inside of you just ate at you for days, weeks even. It was different and difficult, causing the past to reel you back in. The 'What if' thoughts were consuming you once again.

What if that never happened to you? What if everything you went through was for nothing? What if this was the last week for you? What if you're just making it all up? What if.

The sadness was a persistent parasite, you wanted it out of you.

You were a little avoident and dismissive about it, throwing "Yep I'm good"'s at him.

He knew something was actually up with you, he attempted to try to fish it out of you.

You started to refuse to sleep in the same bed, if you did it would only be for a little bit before rising earlier than he did. You slept in the library or even the kitchen, your excuses with research and exhaustion weren't cutting it anymore.

He didn't do anything wrong, it was you being you.

He was finally able to corner you, catching you up in your lies.

You two were sitting in the impala, Dean in the store for some food on the ride home. You, in the backseat, pretending to be asleep so you could wiggle your way out of the tense situation.

"You're getting worse, I can see it. Please just talk to me, I will take good care of you."

You took a quiet deep breath to reject the tears.

You couldn't explain it to anyone out loud, it felt like an internalized argument with yourself.

An argument of upset and angry thoughts. You wanted help but the shame and bravery of asking for help was overwhelming to ignore.

His hand patiently reached for yours. It was warm and soothing. You ached for his love yet you couldn't bring yourself to embrace it.

"I'm sorry," is all you could mutter out. How could you explain to him?

Sorry Sam! The thoughts are getting worse and I'm not sure if I'll make it this time. I hope you can understand!

As if that was okay to tell him, it'll raise him to questions and concerns.

Dean came back to the car, putting an end to the situation. He was aware of how your mental state was, you weren't too hard to read.

He offered you food and you accepted it out of a hint of guilt if you didn't. You just placed the food next to you and watched the environment move when he backed out of the parking lot.

The drive was going normal, their normal brother bickering and silence. They were having a talk about the hunt you all got done with yesterday.

You decided to tune it all out, ruminating in your own world.

You thought of ways to tell him. Maybe you didn't need to, you could just lock it all away to eventually forget.

You started to feel a sense of dread building up in you so you attempted to sleep it off.

You woke up with soft whispers of your name, Sam's voice trying to wake you up.

Due to the lack of sleep and high alert you bolted up, sitting straight and facing him.

"We're here now, come inside so we can talk."

Those words made you feel small as a little kid would when they get in deep shit. You thought about it more, that's all you've been doing as of lately.

You got out of the car with Sam trailing behind you.

Dean must've been inside already, ready to booze and snooze.

The two of you just walked in the same tense atmosphere as before, making your way to your shared room.

He closed the door behind and immediately wrapped his arms around you in such a gentle way.

Obviously you couldn't help but sob in his care, you needed it so much. Repeating the words 'I'm sorry' to him over and over.

It never felt enough.

He never said anything during it, he understood sometimes you struggle. He played with your hair, guiding you to the bed to sit down with him.

"It's okay to feel this way", he replied to your aftermath of crying.

"I'm always here for you. I will always be here for you. There's no need to run and hide from it." The way he spoke to you in that tone, you wanted to melt in his love.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You shook your head still unsure of how to talk about it. He gave a simple nod and hugged you a little tighter before letting go.

"We should go clean up, we're dirty from that hunt."

Sam held your hand the entire time as he lead you to the showers.

You both stood in silence again, just appreciating each other while the water ran. You wished the peaceful intimate moments with him lasted forever.

The night ended with him holding you, the tense atmosphere now replaced with kindness and comfort.

"It's just getting really bad again, I just want it to stop."

"We can get through it together, please just stay with me for now."

[the-beatnik-gale]

A Moment Alone

I went ahead and wrote some fanfiction for my Tav Husk x Gale because I was bored and wanted to write something cute. I wasn't going to share this but fuck it, we could all do with some more Gale content. ====================================== Approximately 1.2k words

Gale Dekarios x Tav (Named) It's a fluff piece, nothing raunchy. :) It occurs in the Elf Song Tavern from Act 3, but there aren't spoilers.

* Nothing has been proofread, and I can only hope Grammarly caught most of my mistakes. This is the first thing I've written in about 10 years, so I apologize if I've regressed back to 8th-grade writing skills. Forgive me; I'm out of practice.

The warmth of the water enveloped Husk with the comfort of a favorite blanket. The road to Baldur’s Gate was harsh and unforgiving but was a familiar practice that she took solace in. The nights spent around the fire, eating, laughing, and sharing the company of her companions had brought memories of her youth: her mother singing for the wondering group of vagabonds she had called family, her father creating illusions to accompany the stories and lyrics, and of her brother silently taunting her when she was up to perform. She missed it dearly and sometimes resented that she had willingly severed that tie. “It was necessary.” She thought, “You needed to get away, to find yourself.” She sunk lower into the bath water, and her smaller dwarven height made her a perfect subject for being completely submerged. “If I hadn’t walked away from them, I wouldn’t be here.  I wouldn’t have this damn parasite…” She huffs but can’t stop the smile from breaking through. “… and I wouldn’t have yet another wizard to add to my pocket full of magic men.” She couldn’t help but laugh. Gale had been her favorite part of this whole debacle. The silver lining against a sky of unknown horror, especially given the reality that he could have been but a speck had he gone through with his goddess’s demand. The moment of relief she had when he went ahead and chose her, Faerun and Mystra be damned, was indescribable. More likely, Husk didn’t have the right words memorized to describe the moment.

“Papa would like him, and he’s always respected as an arcane practitioner no matter at what stage. Draccel would fight with him, surely, debating some facts about some old dusty mage that’s long been dead, only stopping to ask how Gale could deal with me, and Mama…” A joyful sigh exits; she can hear her mother’s voice, simultaneously laced with stress and affectionate. “Just what we need, another wizard to anchor down among their schemes and grand delusions. Really dear, couldn’t you find a simple sorcerer or warlock if you needed someone magically imbued?” Husk threw her head back, eyes resting and arms outstretched to rest on the top of the tub.

It would be wonderful, beautiful, pure bliss. “Then there’s his mother and Tara. Tara, I have some idea about it, but his mother…” She stops short, a string of thoughts running through her at once, eyes still closed. There was so much left to do: Wyll’s father, Gale’s book, Astarion’s master, Orin and Gortash, the damn elder brain, plus whatever small tasks the group was sure to find themselves aiding in—the list seemed to grow ever larger, and there was no end in sight. “This is all assuming we even make it out alive. If, by some miracle, we do, then I can worry about this; until then, silence yourself. Relax, still your mind like you were taught. Just breathe deep.”

The distant murmurs of the patrons below amplified the silence of her upstairs dwelling. The others were selling spare supplies, wandering around, or making merriment elsewhere for the time being. It was their first day in the city, so it didn’t take her by surprise that the itch to explore and revisit was almost too much for some companions to resist. While the quiet was nice, Husk was beginning to regret not going with Gale to the stands. He had insisted she relax, and she wasn’t ready to expend the energy needed to protest. “The proper supplies will be needed if I’m to cook a more substantial meal than what we’ve been subjected to these last few weeks.  Worry not, I’ll be back soon. You take the chance for a proper reprieve, and by the time I should, should the others not have returned, perhaps we might take a few moments for ourselves.” If there were even the slightest possibility of a quiet moment together, Husk would hold out hope for it. Her eyes flutter open, peering past the cracks in the dividers, taking in the upstairs. She glared at the beds, their size just enough for a single body. Despite her dwarven frame being smaller than the rest, she wasn’t small enough to slide in alongside him. “Mmm, perhaps we should have stayed camping.” She wasn’t sure when she had dozed off or for how long, but she was suddenly aroused by the loud shutting of the door and the murmuring of a familiar voice. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s around… “

It was Gale, grunting slightly as he carried in what spices and groceries he had retrieved from his quick excursion.

“My love, are you here?”  His steps moved from the fire to the left of the room, opposite her. “I’m here; if you give me a moment, I’ll be right out. “

She heard the quickening of footsteps across the room. Before she could lift herself from the water, which had long since grown cold, her gaze turned upward as Gale gently nudged his way past the screen towel in hand. “Here, let me help. “ She didn’t need it but took the offer, grasping his extended hand. He helped pull her up, wrapping the towel and his arms around Husk. Gale leaned in, giving a lingering kiss on her forehead. “You smell nice. Not that I found you to have a pungent aroma in the first place. “ A small chuckle fell from Husk; she knew he didn’t mind her natural smell, but it felt nice to be able to bathe.   “Lavander and honey, not my first choice, but I’m content to smell like something other than my own sweat. It makes me happy that I didn't take a vow of cleanliness. The journey here would have been far more troublesome for me.” She reached her hand to his face, her thumb running along his cheek.

“And how was the market? Hopefully, you had no difficulty finding what you needed.” Gale nuzzled himself into her hand.

“Oh, I didn’t face much difficulty at all. Talking to a few vendors, however, I noticed that the people here seem to be just as on edge, if not more so, than those outside the gate.  While I still suggest we rest tonight, tomorrow will come early, and we’ll need to start laying out a plan immediately.” His face goes stoic for a moment, the reality of what is to come hitting hard and quick, but slowly, it loosens into a smug grin. “But that’s for us to worry about tomorrow, yes? For now, I say we take that moment I mentioned earlier. After all, it’s hard to focus when I have such beauty standing before me. While it won’t be the most romantic moment I could conjure, you have my word that I’ll do my utmost to make the best of it. I don’t think we’ll have all that much time left before our companies retire from the city. So, let us make haste and act accordingly, claiming this little moment for ourselves.” He takes her hand and leads her to one of the beds; both are determined to seize the moment, even if only for a short while.

[tk-duveraun]

22/23 Luo Binghe is SO NORMAL about Shen Yuan

12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22 (here), THE END

Read up through even numbered parts on Ao3

"You're fucking with me," Luo Binghe said.

Snowball had nothing to say for himself. He just sat there giving no expression after revealing himself to be the author of that trash heap IRS.

"Why the fuck would you leave out all the important shit? Do you have any idea the conversational landmines I had to deal with before the System deigned to give me this dumbass's backstory?" Luo Binghe paced back and forth across the meeting room as he ranted.

"Why would I write things that upset me?" Snowball replied.

"Upset you? Oh, pardon me! Wait, what do you mean you didn't write anything that upset you? Are you saying I imagined Shen Yuan being dubconned every other chapter."

Snowball said nothing, just maintained eye contact.

Luo Binghe recoiled in disgust. "I didn't need to know that about you."

"You read it."

Because he had nothing to say to that, Luo Binghe instead focused on his annoyance that Snowball had transmigrated into a lump of cold stone that couldn't emote if he tried.

"According to rumors around here, Little Mobei is obsessed with his consort and uninterested in a harem, so why the fuck did you write Shen Yuan getting railed by every man he so much as smiled at and some he didn't?"

Snowball shrugged. "I wanted everyone to love me."

Speechless. Luo Binghe was absolutely speechless. Sure, it was acknowledged that a lot of webnovels were personal fantasies, but he'd never heard of an author admitting it so blatantly.

Luo Binghe leaned over the table and jabbed Snowballing in the chest with his finger. "So was Shang Qinghua the end game all along?"

Instead of answering, Snowball said, "You should get rid of Xin Mo. It drove the Original Goods crazy."

Even as Snowball said that, Xin Mo was clawing and gnawing at Luo Binghe's resistances. "No shit. I could have figured that out for myself. Is that why he was haunting Shen Yuan?"

"Blood parasites," Snowball said. His unmoving expression made him impressively punchable.

"Good to know they can counter the Ice Mites, but I'm murdering Linguang-jun so I expect it won't be necessary," Luo Binghe said. "I hope you're not attached to him."

"Make it hurt."

"Now that's the sort of ringing endorsement I wanted. I found a stranded clan of Leopard Demons, I promised them his territory."

"Tell Qinghua."

"Have you always been this taciturn? How did you write so much when you can barely put a full sentence together?"

Snowball's glare actually deepened at that. He bared one of his fangs in a sneer before answering. "Writing is different."

"Whatever you say. " Luo Binghe stopped pacing and slouched into the chair across from Snowball. He drummed his fingers on the table. "Is Shen Jiu actually Shen Yuan's brother."

Snowball nodded. "Half."

"You know, the comments called them Schrodinger's incest, right?"

There was a pause, then Snowball blinked. "Comments?"

"What do you comments? You know, forum entries? Replies? Commentary?"

"There were comments?"

When Luo Binghe returned to his senses, all of the furniture in the room was ash or water and the walls had melted into odd curves. Snowball remained unruffled, himself and his chair the only things left unscathed.

A raised eyebrow was all Snowball's face gave him. "You done?"

"I hate you so much."

"Luo Binghe," Shang Qinghua repeated. He wrote the characters on what was definitely a clipboard and showed Luo Binghe.

"That's correct," Luo Binghe replied. It was… odd to see his own name again. A good odd, but definitely different.

"With all due respect, this Servant might suggest something slightly more… Regal? Perhaps something—"

"This Lord is decided," Luo Binghe said.

"Of course, of course. This Servant would never think to know better." Shang Qinghua dried his ink with a flash of spiritual qi and then shuffled his papers around. Finally he found several pages that had been cut and notched to hold them together.

"Now, on to the matter of Linguang-jun. While he is no match for my King and thus not a problem for one such as Junshang, he is devious and cruel. If he were to suspect Junshang of holding animosity toward him, he would not hesitate to leverage a presumed kinder nature from a human upbringing."

"He all but enslaved me. Either he knows I'm coming, or he's an idiot. What kind of defenses can I expect?"

Shang Qinghua scratched the side of his head with the back of his brush. There was a splot of ink on his cheek from where he'd used the wrong end. "Linguang-jun stole all of the old Mobei-jun's trophies and artifacts before my King had full control over the North. This servant would not advise triggering his ambush."

"He doesn't have full control now. I hear the whispers of sedition constantly," Luo Binghe said, looking at Shang Qinghua askance.

"Ah, ah, Shen-bro, your disciple has no faith in me. Answering Junshang, until the formal ascension of the new Mobei-jun, replacing all of the staff is political suicide. Half of the whispers are fabricated for our agenda and the other half are marked for later."

"Ice Mites?" Luo Binghe asked. Ever since learning how Shen Yuan was controlled, he'd wondered why Linguang-jun chose poison to control him.

Shang Qinghua sighed heavily at the question. "If only. My king finds them duplicitous and crass. But even if not, in some demon clans they are frighteningly obvious: visible in one's eyes or manifesting as lumps traveling under the skin. It would alert the demons in question they were marked."

"So they lack subtlety."

"Indeed, but not to worry, my king has allowed me some means of, how did he phrase it? Tagging them. They will not survive when I become Lady of the Palace."

Luo Binghe didn't doubt it. Shen Yuan's friend was surprisingly vicious.

"Back to the matter at hand. If I should not trigger the ambush, how do we draw him out?"

[danceintheskies]

hi sam :) do you have any free itch.io or steam game recommendations 🎮

yes! but this is heavily skewed by my own tastes(mostly vns and rpgs

Bittersweet birthday is very polished so far, has great art, and is also mind-crushingly difficult. (This is a free demo, the full game isn't out yet.) Steam link

Slice of scythe is deeply cute and fun and enables you to do moderately evil things for a cute cowboy hat. recaptured the feeling of playing random silly flash games for me.

love on the peacock express - the itch page for this is "trainmilfsgame.itch.io". all you need to know. (okay, not really. it's a short mystery game. and it has milvess

our life: beginnings and always is a very earnest and fluffy self-insert VN with a lot of customization. might not be everyone's taste-- basically rides or dies on if you like the main boy unless you want to get the DLC-- but I had a lot of fun with it. I haven't played the second game in the series (our life now and forever) but I imagine it follows a similar philosophy? As an aside it's cute seeing their art improvement from one game to the next. Steam link

a tale of crowns - a high fantasy text adventure that has me gripped by the hair. (not complete as of writing)

wayfarer is another fantasy text adventure, but it plays much more like a TTRPG with dice rolls and everything. beautiful visuals too, which is a weird thing to say about a twine game, but it's true! I have to stop myself from playing this because I get too invested in it. (also not complete as of writing)

flesh, blood and concrete - high grade rpgmaker horror. beautiful art, very contemplative

lily's well - rpgmaker horror game in the style of older PC games. I think it's more of an acquired taste than FB&M, but I enjoyed it. Steam link

horla - atmospheric 3D first person horror game! I like the sound design in this one. currently just a free demo available. Steam link (for wishlisting!)

butterfly soup - I mean. I can't not put buttsoup on here. c'mon. it's a coming-of-age VN about gay asian girls playing baseball. Some don't like the memey humor, which I get, but the characters are all 9th grade freakazoids so I think it's charming and nostalgic. The sequel came out recently too, after a long wait!!!

I hesitate to call it a game more than an interactive story, but my brother; the parasite haunts me now and forever

depression quest - this game gets overshadowed by its reputation as "the game that started gamergate", which is a shame because it's an interesting interactive fiction game in its own right. my actual nitpicks of it boil down to the author presenting their experiences as universal, but I think more people should still give it a try.

In general, if you want to find more weird or niche or one-off or otherwise unique games to play, looking through the games submitted for different game jams is always fun!

[cinnamonest]

I have one minute left of Monday as of writing this intro, but I have not had a Momcon Monday in ages (which is criminal) and "what if the Kamisato father still died but Kamisato Mama never died" thoughts have parasitically wormed their way into my brain and taken hold, therefore I cannot be held legally responsible for the degeneracy of this post.

After what I learned in a Japanese history class I took in college, I imagine Inazuma to have a similarly very incestuous history >:) Also obvious canon divergence, this kinda ignores the canon Kayo

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

For any Inazuman family, the firstborn son is the pride of the household. It's sort of a traditional value, that great attention, care, and importance is placed on said firstborn son. While this may be very beneficial in some ways (other children in Inazuman families often resent their firstborn brother, feeling he gets more attention and priority than them), this advantage is greatly counterbalanced by the sheer amount of stress, responsibility, and expectations placed on the son.

Having only two children is an abnormality, as noble families tend to be fairly large (albeit smaller than they were in some eras of the past). And only one son, even rarer. It places the utmost stress on your son, to an extent you feel a bit of guilt -- perhaps you should have had another boy just to alleviate some of his burdens?

Regardless, you try to be there in the ways he needs you to be, to be a source of comfort and a shoulder to lean on. That, too, would be perhaps a bit frowned upon in Inazuman nobility culture... it tends to be a rather uptight and strict culture on such things, and Teyvatan nobility in particular often encourages pushing children to their limits, hardening them, but you can't bring yourself to be too harsh. People still tell you not to make him turn out to be weak or soft.

Even so, that turns out to not be the case at all.  As Ayato grows, he is no exception to the standard – capable in every matter, intelligent, strong, skilled in combat and wit alike. You couldn't be more proud. You make sure to tell him so, and everyone you know, for that matter. People frequently say similar things to you, I wish my kids were that well-behaved, if only my son cared about his studies like yours... on and on it goes, and in truth, it does make you feel that much more proud. He's wonderful in his behavior towards you as well, always so pleasant and thoughtful, going out of his way to check on you, get gifts for you, include you in his life. He even speaks highly of you to others, especially when praised -- ah, but I would never have done so well without my mother there to encourage me.

But life can drastically change overnight, and it does.

Death, particularly of the head of a household, is a particularly volatile, uneasy time. He’s incredibly stoic throughout, and takes charge of things very quickly. That, too, is something you're quite proud of, how quickly he adapts and takes over, and the efficiency with which he does, far surpassing what would be expected of someone his age.

Things are a bit awkward at first, though, because he replaces the role of your husband, while you remain in the same role as always, right beside the head of the house, which is now him. It just feels a bit strange, looking to him as and having many of the same partnered functions as you once did to your husband. For example, you are expected to remain side-by-side for all important affairs and meetings being held at the estate.

You don't contribute very much, merely supposed to sit there quiet and demure unless addressed or during the more casual socialization that occurs after important affairs are dealt with, but it would be socially embarrassing for someone of his status to appear in front of guests alone, as having either a wife or other matriarch of the household present is the expected standard. Still, although you know it's your responsibility, it just feels... strange.

Soon, however, it starts to feel something different entirely, due to your son's unexpected behaviors - humiliating.

It catches you off-guard, at first. You would never expect it from him, who has always praised you, held you in some degree of reverence and respect, always done as you asked.

It quickly seems to change, though. As he begins to take his father's place in dealing with other significant figures in local politics, he talks about you in front of others in a way that makes you feel degraded, as if you were an animal incapable of understanding he's even talking about you. You voice concern over what seems to be a disadvantageous decision being made with a major political power, trying to interject in a way that is as appropriately as you can manage, seeing as you're not supposed to talk much, but you can't let it go unaddressed... but your son just waves his hand dismissively, smiling.

Ah, you'll have to forgive my mother. She has a tendency to upset herself over trivial matters. He finishes with a chuckle, rests his hand on the top of your head for a moment.

He also gives you subtle warnings and guidances regarding your own words. The custom in your culture is for you and your guests to sit on opposite sides of a table low to the floor, with the head of the household -- now your son -- and the matriarch of the household (that's you, and would be your daughter if you were to pass) sits right beside him. This is an opportune way for him to be sure you don't say anything he would prefer you not to. You'll just be talking as usual, when you get a sudden firm squeeze to your thigh. Telling you that, for whatever reason, whatever you were saying has been deemed not acceptable, or perhaps that you simply are talking too much when your role is more to sit there and smile.

You give your son the benefit of the doubt. You rationalize it. He's young and all of this is so new to him, he probably wants to prove himself and take initiative over the social atmosphere, and would feel embarrassed if you were to to guide the meetings... he wants to feel capable and in charge. You taking over would be belittling to him, he would feel like you're treating him like a child, and you can understand that. That's a good thing that he's being so responsible, isn't it?

Besides, it's not like his behaviors towards you outside of the meetings have changed... until they do, in fact, begin to.

It starts with you taking a deviation in your routine. Not that that in and of itself is a big deal; there's nothing dictating that you have to follow a certain routine or anything like that. You don't have many responsibilities, as your son takes care of business and management affairs, your job is primarily to be present when needed, and ensure the household is being kept in order.

Therefore, you get a great deal of lounging time. One day, you simply felt like reclining to read for leisure in a different spot than usual, opting to sit in the estate's study rather than the foyer. Something done without any consideration to the matter, not thinking it anything that could possibly cause an issue in any way.

You jolt when the door harshly opens, barging through with urgency. Your son sighs when he sees you, shoulders falling as tension leaves his body. You think something to be the matter, that he must have something upsetting him -- is something wrong, sweetheart?

But instead of answering you with some other matter, his eyes narrow.

I have been searching for you for nearly half an hour. You would do well to not worry me by disappearing so.

There's a frustration in his voice you're unaccustomed to, an authority in his tone he has never used towards you. It catches you off-guard, your eyes widen.

O-oh, I... I didn't mean to...

In the end, you reassure him you will not repeat this variation in your usual schedule, at least not without informing house staff so that they can inform him when needed. He didn't seek you out for any reason, though, as it turns out, only coming to check on you.

You suppose you should appreciate these checks, as they continue. The monitoring becomes more and more intense over time. He begins to check on you several times a day, or at least sending a member of the house staff to do so. He requests that you have a consistent schedule, so he doesn't need worry about you.

One day you decide to take some time to yourself, wanting to clear your mind. The family has long had a very peaceful, calming estate grounds pathway to walk on, a natural garden area behind the main building with flowers and greenery and the like, where you often go to walk around in when you have a lot on your mind.

You've done so for years, and it's never been an issue, but you've been so preoccupied that you haven't gotten the chance to do so since your husband's passing... and yet, this time, you're not even gone for twenty minutes before someone comes looking for you.

Oh... him. The housekeeper is such a sweet boy. Always bright-eyed and energetic. And he feels bad for you. You can tell, you can sense it even now as he comes briskly walking up to you, hand held up in a greeting gesture, smiling -- but in that apologetic, sheepish sort smile, furrowed eyebrows conveying a very different message than the upturned corners of his mouth.

Likewise, the choice of words is polite and sweet, and yet, you can hear the unspoken part without needing to hear it.

'Oh, I was just wondering where you were!'

(I was sent to come find you.)

'...has been really worried about you--'

(I'm going to be in trouble if you don't come back.)

'And I was just thinking--'

(He told me to say--)

He keeps this cheery, upbeat sort of tone, but you can feel it's forced. It's just short of audibly hearing what it says on its own: sorry.

And you know exactly why he's the one coming to find you. Sure, part of it is no doubt because he's so sweet and soft, but you know your son's real line of reasoning -- that you wouldn't want to get him in trouble, that you'll feel more empathetic to him than you would towards any regular servant, and thus you'll be more willing to comply from the start. You hate to admit that it works.

Thoma becomes a sort of guardian over you. He's there in the mornings - of course, you have a female servant to dress you for the day, but as soon as you exit your room, he's always there, smiling and bowing his head in greeting, cheerful as always. Polite and respectful, too, always keeping with the formal honorifics and ma'am's and the like, even if you've tried to tell him it's not necessary. He always makes you food and tea in the morning, always accompanies you if you wish to go out (a fairly new pleasure in your life, as your late husband often told you to refrain from doing so, but you figure it can't hurt to visit the city every now and then), often sits with you and your daughter at meals, particularly if your son is too busy with work to do so.

He hovers over you, a constant presence. Ayato even went to the extent of hiring another new servant to help around with the tasks that had usually been under Thoma's responsibility, to give him more time to watch over you. In truth, it's suffocating, but you know he's only following commands, and you tell yourself that you ought to be grateful you have a son who cares for you so deeply.

And thus, your son continues to utilize him to control your own every move.

That is, until a certain incident.

You do get along well with Thoma, really. Who wouldn't? He's a very pleasant boy, easy to hold a conversation with, bright and energetic while also amiable and easygoing. He's content with talking about pretty much anything, goes wherever you want to go, never complains.

And usually, he's very well-prepared, but of course, everyone will make mistakes every now and then. Thus is how the two of you get caught in the rain, returning from a leisure stroll along the road. The poor thing apologizes a hundred times on the way back for neglecting to consider the possibility of rain and failing to bring an umbrella, taking his jacket off to hold over your head the whole time, but the rain is particularly heavy, so much so you both end up soaked anyways.

He frantically runs to fetch towels, still nervously apologizing (even though you told him it's fine each and every time), getting you multiple towels to dry yourself off. He leaves so you can dry your body off and change your clothes, but even after you return to the living area, sitting by the fire at the back-center of the room, he helps you rub a towel over your scalp and shoulders, arms more or less wrapped around you, leaning in, bodies a few inches apart.

It's at that moment Ayato passes by. Not intending to stop, merely walking past seemingly in a hurry, but his eyes flicker over to you two as he passes, and he comes to an abrupt halt. He's quiet for a few moments. He's a composed young man, never the type to show negative emotions too outwardly, but you can make out a distinct look of displeasure on his face, mouth pulled taut and eyes narrowed. After a moment, he questions what happened, in a calm, but cold voice. You're the one to explain before Thoma can say anything, wanting to defend him, thinking your son is upset over you getting caught in the rain, perhaps.

I see.

It's all he says before turning and walking off.

...You don't see Thoma very much anymore after that. Well, you still see him, he's always around doing some task or another, but he doesn't come to visit you anymore, and even when you see him and speak to him, he sort of leans away from you, keeps an arm-length away from you at all times, smiles and speaks in a sheepish mannerism for a few minutes before coincidentally remembering something he's forgotten to do and leaves to go do that. It hurts you a little. You want to say something to Ayato perhaps, but in truth, you're uncertain how to approach him... was he truly that upset over you getting rained on? Or was it something else? You have trouble making sense of it. Regardless, surely he's overreacting.

He seems so uptight lately. You imagine he's under a great deal of stress. He used to be rather lax and easygoing, but these days he seems to be more easily upset. Ayato's "bad moods" are nothing compared to someone of a less pleasant disposition, he merely gets cold and quiet and a bit harsh with his voice and words, but nonetheless, as your child, you know him well enough to know these things indicate he's upset.

He gets into such a mood more and more often, often nitpicking about the things you wear and do, getting unnecessarily upset if you fail to inform him of your activities and location, insisting you stay in the same places at the same times each day for him to come by so he can briefly check on you.

It's unnecessary, and frankly rather obnoxious. But once more, you're unsure of how to bring the matter up. Perhaps he's merely undergoing a strenuous period of time, and will improve once it is over. You hope so.

He assigns more servants to you, first a different female one, then another, and soon you have three, who are constantly following you around, tending to your every need. It's not as if the estate hasn't always had personal servants, but in the past, you merely summoned them when needed, and in truth, you were never the conceited type to have servants do everything, you were more than capable of performing certain tasks for yourself and didn't feel the need to command someone else to do it. But it's never been like this, never so suffocating.

Eventually, it becomes too much.

You need some time to yourself. To appear in public by yourself would be unseemly for your position, but nonetheless, you have to find a way to get some room to breathe... you know he would be furious with you if you were to intentionally avoid contact, to go off into the expanse of nature beyond the estate grounds... but the "what he doesn't know won't hurt him" is a motto you imagine all mothers use at some point when dealing with their children. When the beloved pet was killed by a kick from a horse, so you told the children it ran away. When the country underwent such a financial crisis a decade or so back that even your family had to sell some of their heirlooms to pay for the expenses of the estate, so you told the children they were simply tacky and you no longer wanted them. That sort of thing.

Yes, this would be no different. To leave the estate at night and walk around beyond the grounds for a while, beyond the garden where servants might see you, just to get some time and space to yourself, to clear your mind. You have to wait until night, when your servants are no longer trailing you so closely, but you manage to find an unguarded door to the outside, and slip away undetected.

Almost.

You're just taking the last few steps out the gate when a spear is thrust in front of you, the pole section blocking your path. The exterior guards. They seem high-strung, almost panicked by seeing you out. As soon as they stop you, they tell you to (albeit very politely, prefaced with please, madam, it's not good for you to be out here at this hour) return in side immediately.

You try to reason, and yet, they continue to insist. You give a demand -- Please, this is an order, I am simply going for a walk -- and yet even still, even with such an authoritative statement, they merely shake their heads. They take steps forward, gradually pushing you back inside, until you finally relent, making an exasperated noise before turning on your heel and stomping back inside.

You know your son had to have said something to them. Even your husband never held so much power that the household staff would so immediately and sternly disregard your words.

More importantly, you know they'll tell him. You know he'll be upset.

But you were expecting him to simply address it the next day or so. You didn't think he'd be so angry that he'd come into your room so late. You're pretty sure it's past midnight when you hear heavy, quick footsteps come stomping down your hallway.

Nor does he knock. Your doorknob simply turns, opening the door in one swift motion.

Mother.

If his tone alone didn't convey exactly how unhappy he is, the force with which he shuts the door behind him certainly does.

It feels as if your roles are reversed -- you find yourself shrinking back, stammering, like a child caught doing something wrong. You shift uncomfortably on your bed, watching as he sighs, closes his eyes and pinches at the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Don't you realize how foolish a stunt like that was? And bizarre, too, who tries to go outside at night like that? It has nothing to do with you wanting "time to yourself," as you quickly try to defend yourself with, no, he interrupts you before you can finish. You're merely being spiteful. You're bitter about the matter of him having authority over you and giving you instructions on behaving recently, it feels humiliating to you, and you're acting out in some desperate desire to prove your autonomy to yourself, to validate yourself, or perhaps to even intentionally upset him... how utterly childish.

You'll likely do something to escalate the situation just to make him more upset, like going off into the city on your own, putting yourself at risk. Truly, you are so naive, you have no regard for safety.

This is precisely why he will be moving in.

You blink. You take a moment to process his words.

What?

He exhales in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it's a very simple, obvious matter that you're dense for not immediately grasping.

As you know, this room belongs to the head of the estate. It's very obviously designed to be so, given it's center position among all the rooms, size of the bed and the room itself and all that. It's sort of inappropriate for him to still be sleeping in his old childhood room.

You still only blink in confusion.

So... you want me to move out?

He huffs in frustration again, but hearing how soft and meek your voice sounds with those words, his own tone softens, though his words are still stern.

Obviously not. As he just said, he's moving in here to keep better eye on you. That's part of the whole point. You will be staying in the same room and bed from this point forward. You shared a bed with his late father most of your life, yes? This should be no trouble, then. Please, have some maturity.

I'm not a child anymore, mother. I have the final say in how this household operates, and it will make things easier on us both if you cooperate.

You're not sure what part of the matter to protest -- the bizarreness of it all, the fact that sleeping with you is something reserved for a child, the invasion of your privacy.

You say you have no intention of doing something worse like he claims, that you were just going to walk around for a short while. And before he can respond, you interject the obvious question -- that's not... that's not normal, don't you realize that?

He just sighs. You're being needlessly difficult. You know I have the utmost affection for you, Mother, and I've tried to be patient with you, but please be reasonable.

Why would you think this odd? You are family, after all, so no amount of closeness should be strange, there should be nothing to be embarrassed about. His tone as he finishes speaking is firm, making it clear that no further opposition is to be voiced. You find yourself wide-eyed and silent, slack-jawed as he proceeds to not leave, but rather, make his way over to the bed, sitting on the side opposite of you. He reaches out, affectionately putting a hand to rest atop your head, trying to soften the mood after being so firm.

His voice is far more gentle as he speaks again. I do worry for you at night, as well. I know being alone now must be difficult for you... I want to be here for you.

You don't protest further. In truth, he's right to an extent, it's not like it's a stranger or someone unrelated, so it doesn't feel all that unnatural. Still, he's grown, it's been ages since you were last like this... but even then, that thought takes you back to the days he would come shuffling down the hall, tearful over a nightmare or frightening shadow, and would nuzzle up to you all night, and that memory makes you feel warm and happy inside.

It's still awkward, of course, and you have trouble falling asleep with him there. At first you try to close your eyes and pretend it's your husband, but... no, that's too painful to think about. You toss and turn for some time. You keep repeating to yourself that it's not a big deal, even if it feels bizarre. Maybe he's actually stressed, and wanted you for comfort, but didn't want to say so...? That is a possibility. Or, even if it's exactly as he said, that's concern for your wellbeing.

Yes... he's just concerned is all. It's odd, but the sentiment is wholesome, in fact, you feel guilty for being defiant considering it was out of concern for you. You even make a note to apologize to him, the following morning, when you wake up beside him. He just smiles, back to his usual gentle, good-humored self. It's alright... you were merely emotional from stress. I understand. The choice of wording feels a bit degrading, but you know he means well.

Thus begins a rather... odd setup. The next day, you find servants moving some of his belongings into your room. They say nothing, they don't look you in the eye, merely go about their task as presumably instructed. You no longer have the servants following you around either. Instead, Ayato insists you merely stay with him. It will be easier for me to keep an eye on you this way. Really, this would have been easier from the start, but I didn't want to upset you...

You're allowed to do as you normally do. Read, entertain yourself in various sedentary ways. In the afternoon, when your high-class lifestyle has you adjusted to taking a short nap, he returns to the room with you, sitting at the desk to continue his own work. Really, you prefer him to the servants, it feels less awkward, but... he's very nosey. Always wanting to know what you're doing, what you're reading. He sets a schedule for you, ensuring you accompany him everywhere as necessary.

But it begins to become more and more intrusive. You try to take a bath, get some time to yourself, but soon he's knocking on the door to tell you that you've had long enough, and need to get out so you can accompany him to yet another meeting. You try to ask if you can go lay down in your room due to headache, and while he allows it, he insists on accompanying you. If even a servant comes to speak to you, he turns his attention to them too, careful to listen to every word, and you are never granted a private conversation with anyone but him.

You notice other oddities, too. You haven't had any guests for you in ages, despite the fact that you used to have friends and distant family on your side of the family visit fairly often. But since your husband's funeral, you haven't gotten any letters, nor any visitors. You can't imagine he would turn guests away, or intercept the estate's mail for things addressed to you... at least, you hope not, yet you can't think of anything else that could explain it.

You do ask, after finally summoning the gall to do so, but as per usual these days, he just sighs and gives you a vague answer. I have the servants sort through everything addressed to us, Mother. Do you really believe they would withhold anything from you? Somehow, it isn't reassuring.

He begins to personally dictate your choices as well, in ways even your husband never did. You find robes already set out for you each morning, what you will wear thus subtly dictated to you ahead of time. You don't see any point in doing so, but... if it makes him happy... you suppose you can oblige. So you tell yourself, among everything else.

He begins to become more touchy as well. He sits closer to you during your meetings, often so your bodies brush against each other. He often rests his hand on your head now, often touches your shoulder to get your attention. At night, he leans forward to kiss your forehead. And when you sleep, you manage to always end up entangled with each other, you always wake up to his arms on you.

It's all so, so suffocating, it becomes unbearable. You just want a moment to yourself, to do anything without being questioned. You find yourself growing tearful as you lay down at night, lamenting your loss, wishing you could have back your life before, where your husband at least gave you room to breathe, and your son was still merely you son, with no authority over you. You know he's trying his best, and you want so badly for him to be confident and capable, but you can't take it.

And while he's still amiable, still pleasant and easygoing on so many things, you learn that he can snap into that firm, harsh tone at a moment's notice. It's intimidating, truthfully, and for that reason, you tend to stay quiet. You would feel guilty for upsetting him, when he already has so much responsibility. Thus, you let the frustration build. You make excuses for him in your mind. You tolerate it all. The emotions bottle up inside.

It's bound to reach a breaking point, and one day, that point finally comes.

Rather, one night. Not that you do anything wrong by any rational standards. You wake up thirsty, in the middle of the night, and naturally, as anyone would do -- as anyone would do, anyone at all, you tell yourself -- you quietly, slowly slip out of his grasp and out of bed, and make your way down the hall in the moonlight coming through the windows, fetch a glass of water, and turn back the way you came.

You run into your son halfway down the hall. Despite visible grogginess, the moment he sees you, his eyes narrow.

What are you doing?

You halt, begin to shrink back. Out of learned instinct, you feel guilt, despite having done nothing wrong, dread that builds in your gut. Over doing something so simple, so harmless. You stutter as you try to say exactly that, but he isn't having it. He speaks calmly, but his voice is deep and firm.

Come back to bed. I have explicitly told you so many times to not wander off on your own, and yet you continue to deliberately disobey... what am I to do with you...?

And with those words, something inside you snaps. The frustration all comes bursting out at once. Your grip on your glass tightens, you stomp the ground harshly, causing even him to raise his eyebrows in surprise at the sudden lack of dignity. There's venom in your voice as you talk back to him.

I've had enough!

The words come out without intending them. You don't even really process what you're saying, just that you're so, so tired, that you're sick of not having space to yourself, that you won't tolerate being disrespected so. That you think it was ridiculous that he would forbid you from taking walks, that he would remove that sweet housekeeper boy from your side, that he insists you accompany him everywhere. Your eyes well up with tears as you speak, you squeeze them shut.

You aren't in control of me! I am not a wife for you to command, I am your--

But he grabs your jaw. You go silent at the harshness of the grip, your heart skips a beat. The now nearly-empty glass goes falling to the ground, rolling as it hits the rug. His expression is cold and dark and furious.

What you are to me is irrelevant. You are under the authority of the head of this household. Do you understand?

Even in his most frustrated moments, you have never heard him speak in such a low, ominous tone, quiet yet piercing. It strikes fear into your core. You can do nothing but stare up at him. A few moments of quiet pass, your eyes wide with shock, staring into his own. Finally, after moments of crushing tension, he lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head.

...Come, Mother. We're going back to bed.

The grip he takes on your wrist makes it clear you have no choice in that matter. You stumble a bit as you're pulled back into your room, set down onto your bed, turning to light a candle for the slightest bit of light, signifying that he must think you have more to discuss before you sleep again. But before you can lay down, he sits you upright, hands on your shoulders, before sitting down in front of you, not taking his hands off you as he does. You stare in confusion and questioning. He repeats that affectionate gesture, moving a hand to the top of your head, before speaking again.

I understand what is the matter now. Why you're behaving this way.

Your eyes widen further. You can't find your voice. You find yourself leaning back. There's an unsettling feeling in your chest, something like dread, anticipation. You can just barely make out his eyes in the light.

In truth, I refrained for your sake, thinking it would be too soon... but I see now that was a poor judgement. Your needs are going unmet now... I've neglected my own as well, to control myself for you.

His voice is softer as he speaks, then. Still, something about it makes you feel uneasy. Nervous. Your heart pounds in your chest. What?

Slowly, he reaches out. Not to your head, not to your shoulders. His hands firmly come to rest on your waist. Your body stiffens. He leans forward, forehead against your own.

It's too blatant to not understand the atmosphere, the implicit, silent understanding that passes between you without words. It takes you with such shock, you recoil. You scramble backwards on the bed, away from him, looking up to him with terrified eyes. You can't summon your voice, but your expression says what your mouth can't. After a few more moments of quiet, he speaks in a low, soft voice.

...Mother, are you familiar with what was done in our situation, in the old days? At the passing of the head of the household, what would happen in your case?

The question seems completely out of the blue, takes you completely off-guard. Your eyebrows furrow.

Yes, there were traditions for these sorts of things, you knew that much. Traditions that are now no longer observed, that have been lost to time and the changing of social values. In the case of a patriarch's passing, in the Inazuman nobles of old, there was a process that was to be immediately followed thereafter. In those days, the families were huge, having a large number of children. The eldest son took over the estate and all of its affairs, and was to marry if he had not done so already, middle sons would largely proceed as normal. The most notable of old customs, one of a different time and different mindset, that so notoriously earned disgust from present-day individuals looking back, was for the youngest son, who, if the patriarch left behind a widow, was expected to be wed to his own mother.

You have one son. The eldest and the youngest, by definition.

You shake your head. Disbelief renders you stiff. That's... that's from a different time. That's not... you don't do such things now, it's not right... it's vile, it's...

Mother.

That firm tone again. You stiffen once more. You can't help a soft, quiet noise that comes out of your throat. Your body trembles. You jolt as his hands reach out to grab your waist again.

...The attitudes of society come and go, Mother. They change with the times. You needn't concern yourself with that.

His hands pull you back towards him. His hands then reach for your wrists, and pin them together in one hand. He leans forward, other hand on the back of your head to keep you from pulling away as his mouth meets yours. It's only for a few seconds, but in your shock, everything is slow, it seems to pass as an eternity. Eventually, he pulls back, leaning instead to your ear to murmur to you.

It's alright. This will help your frustrations... remind you your place. It is only natural. Try to understand that... forget about everything else but me.

He doesn't listen to you. Words of protest come out of your mouth, but it's as if he doesn't hear you at all. You struggle to speak as he progresses, but your words devolve into shameful, high-pitched sounds as his mouth latches onto your breast, as his fingers trail down your stomach, under your nighttime robes, slip inside of your body. You squeal when your clothes are pulled off. You cry out, you flail, your legs spasm and your breath hitches when you feel him push inside you. Obscene noises spill from your lips until it all goes quiet.

It doesn't feel real. You shiver in place with his arms around you. You stare at the faint light cast on the ceiling. He murmurs soft comforts to you, pulling you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back, but you can't seem to even make the words out.

You don't remember closing your eyes, you merely wake the next morning far later than usual, almost convinced it was a nightmare until the soreness all over your body sets in. Your limbs feel heavy and limp. You slowly turn your head as your son stirs beside you, sitting upright with a quiet groan, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

Are you sore? I'll have today's schedule adjusted... come, I'll dress you...

As if it's nothing at all, no particularly big deal. You're silent and trembling as you stumble to your feet at his tugging on your arms. You feel hot with embarrassment as his eyes trail over your body, now in full daylight. You stand stiff, still overcome with shock, unable to move more than just the slightest on your own as he pulls your clothing onto your body. He mentions to a servant in passing to get you herbal tea for your aches, not specifying what said aches are from.

And from there, it all falls so perfectly into place. It repeats the next night, the next, and the next. Your protests are quickly silenced with a firm, commanding voice that makes you go quiet, makes your chest swell with fear at the sound. Told that you're being unreasonable, that you're thinking too much about the matter, that you just need to be more open-minded, and you'd realize this is what is best for you. And the next night, and the next night, and the next. Then, during the day, during the time reserved for your afternoon naps. Then, at his desk, pulling you over to sit on his lap, sheathed inside of you as he works, telling you it's beneficial to his progress.

The servants accept it. As time goes on, they seem to slowly figure it out, little by little. You see it in their expressions. For a while their eyebrows furrowed, they looked perplexed whenever he was so close to you, kept his arms around you, whenever they had to come knocking on the door to inform him of something and saw you in there through the crack when he opened it just enough to talk to them. And after some time, their expressions change. The corners of their mouth pull taut.

The trade partners and all the figures of local politics and business that visit your home seem to accept... whatever they believe it all is. It used to be frequent that you would hear them pull him aside, propose an arrangement to marry their wealthy daughters, but he would always politely tell them he plans to put that off for a few more years now. Some acquaintances visiting would likewise ask if he planned to marry soon, and he would give the same answer. They gradually stopped asking. You even overhear two guests once talking to themselves about the matter. He seems content with his mother filling the role of a wife, hah. You clench your jaw and think to yourself that they have no idea.

You're trapped and helpless. Everywhere you turn, there is no solution, no way out. The servants won't help you; even if personally revolted (based on the expressions that sometimes cross their faces, you know they are) they're loyal to their paychecks at the end of the day. They won't let you leave and seek help elsewhere. Everything is locked into place exactly as your son wants it, everything is set up to function as he would have it, with you left unable to do anything about it.

Except for one little problematic piece, one that cannot be fitted into the metaphorical puzzle, yet the image is not complete without its presence, it cannot be removed from the scene altogether, and thus, it creates an obstacle.

Your daughter is a perceptive, intelligent girl. You've always been proud of her, wanted a better and freer life for her than you had. You want to shield her.

It pains you to know that she knows something is wrong. When your son moved into the same room as you, he kept it quiet, but she has noticed, having passed the room several times. She doesn't speak to you much lately, and when she does, it's quiet, she looks at the wall or the ground. Her eyebrows furrow with an expression of confusion and unspoken questioning, but it's only ever so slight, so much so that you know it's only a mild confusion, that she hasn't begun to really understand anything. You want to say something, desperately want to address the silent but unbearable tension, and yet you can't find the words. The tension remains, crushing.

It's the worst-kept secret, anyway, as you know the servants all know something is going on. Even so, it didn't matter if they knew. That wasn't your concern. Above all, you were still hoping to shield it from her. Did everything in your power to appear normal and as if nothing was amiss, just for her. Wanted so desperately to preserve her innocence and happiness, dreading the thought of bringing such a depraved, distressing thing into her life and force her to live in awareness of it. You wanted to spare her that undoubtedly scarring experience. You prayed you could just maintain that alone, that you'd endure anything as long as she could live in ignorant bliss.

One night as you lie in bed on your back, legs slung over your son's shoulders... you hear a sound. Wood against wood, a soft friction, the door sliding. The movement of the bed and wet sounds of his body in yours drowned out any footsteps you might have otherwise heard approaching. Instead, it's just that soft wooden sound... and, as soon as it slid open just the slightest inch, within a split second, it slams shut again.

He stops, equally caught off-guard, head turning towards the door. In the absence of movement between the two of you, you hear hurried, clattering footsteps running back down the hall in the opposite direction. There's a silence that follows as the footsteps grow further and further until they can't be heard.

For once, even your usually composed and collected son seems to lose some composure, eyes wide and face visibly worried. He's never had anything he considered important enough to stop mid-session like this. Even before, when you had company or anything of the sort, he would tell the servants to tell the visitor to hold on just a moment, quickly finish up with you first.

But not now. He pulls out, stands up, throws all his clothes back on in a matter of seconds. I need to talk to her.

Part of you wants to intervene. You want to do something, you don't want him to be the one to say anything to her, are afraid of what he might say, and want to hear whatever he says... and yet, you just lie there. You can't bring yourself to face the crushing shameful feeling, can't bear to look her in the eye. As badly as you want to do something about it, you can't bring yourself to face it, and in avoidance, instead you curl up into yourself, shivering as you grip a pillow to your body, letting tears gather on your eyelids and soak into the fabric.

You never know what he says to her. It takes a long time, though, you know that much. Several hours pass before he finally comes back to bed. He says nothing about the matter himself, only quietly enters the now-dark room, crawls into bed with you (stirring you from having fallen half-asleep), and presses his mouth to yours, resuming your former activities before you can even question anything. You know whatever transpired frustrated him, his grip is intense and his movements are forceful and harsh... but you say nothing. You don't want to ask, you don't want to know.

In the end, though, however it went down, he must have had the final say. Nothing happens to indicate any sort of change. And as for your daughter... she, too, pretends nothing happened, goes about her day as usual. Only now, she speaks more quietly, she won't look you in the eye when she talks to you. It's painful, yet at the same time, you can't bring yourself to bring it up. You're not sure which would hurt more.

You once, accompanying your son, rounded a corner into another room, and caught her talking to Thoma, a hushed but pleading voice, but unable to make out the words. He was a bit louder than her, though, you could clearly make out the replies on his end with each back-and-forth exchange.

I know... I know, I wish I could-- I know. I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do... I don't even know what to--

But both fell quiet as the two of you came into their line of sight. Both visibly stiffening. Coming up with quick excuses to walk off, flashing forced smiles and a greeting gesture as they passed you.

You remember how sick you felt for the rest of the day. You lay in bed for hours, and your son was kind enough to stay by your side... and to even breed you more gently than usual, something he seemed to feel was particularly benevolent of him.

It goes unaddressed. Not a soul in the household doesn't know. But it is never spoken, never brought up. No one reaches out to help you. You know your squeals and protests are loud enough to be heard. You see the way the servants refuse to look you in the eye. You feel the bitter humiliation when some even smirk or snicker as you pass. You can't speak to guests outside of your son's perpetual, hovering presence. It feels like drowning, struggling, all while those around you merely watch.

But nothing is ever done. You suppose that, too, is part of the expectations of nobility, to fulfill one's responsibility without question. Your son has done an excellent job of meeting that standard... hopefully you will learn to as well.

[fisheadz]

I’ve decided to write more about the SWTD + ISM crossover, because I doubt I’ll ever write any longfics about it, so I like throwing out the plot like wet laundry. Any grass stains or mud splotches get added to the story, because I like them.

I’ve made up my mind about how @milestonekestrel ‘s Caz survives AU happens here. Addair Thing doesn’t show up until after Caz meets the others, but before they realize that there’s been a misunderstanding. In fact, I think that Addair Thing showing up is what reveals it, and they ask Caz and he’s like “wait what did you guys think happened to me?” And it’s a whole thing. (Do not ask me how Addair got to Milton Haven.)

Now, where does the showdown™️ take place? The old quarry is a possibility, likely being completely abandoned after Desmond, Lucas and everyone else popped the lid on Mayers bullshit. Maybe we can pretend Fort Sonder is bigger than it is and make it happen there, idk.

Now obviously the main priority is to keep everything under wraps, and to get rid of it. Things change here, because Caz doesn’t get a chance to rush in, and I think while he’s talking with the others, Suze and Billy catch up, so they know now (after a whole lot of convincing). Meanwhile the Shape is getting impatient, and Addairs going nuts, so they have to act fast to kill him.

Billy, of course, gets chew-toyed by the bastard at some point, but I think with Desmond and Virginias help (I hc that her brother is a nurse, and therefore has taught her a thing or two, and Desmonds obvious) the damage is mitigated somewhat. His arms still fucked, but it’s not as bad as it could be. With more targets, they have to be sneakier, but they can distract him better while someone else does something important.

If this is the old quarry, I think reflooding the pit with Addair trapped in one of those rock cage things is feasible. If it’s Fort Sonder, we can just imagine that there’s some water tanks in there somewhere. Ain’t fanfiction fun?

Once Addairs killed (they possibly find connections between the Shape and AR, along the way. As a treat) they regroup, take the injured to go get uninjured, and live happily ever after. Totally. :D.

Except, no! Because now the Shape lives in all of them! And now I get to talk about my little Shape + Agent Rainbow interaction!

This is going off the theory that it’s a parasite. A really funky, really mindscrewy parasite. That just so happens to have the ability to tap into the Collective Unconscious. I imagine that it wouldn’t get much farther than someone’s personal conscious, but with AR’s help, it can spread more in the weird, barely explained hivemind.

Now imagine this - you got a Shadow, and it sucks. It resides in your personal conscious, though as Desmond proves, that can be accessed through the CU as a whole if you can find the way in. Typically this requires a deeper connection to the CU, you need your personal conscious to have more of an influence on the CU. Desmond has this connection through whatever strain Mayer gave him, or maybe through his brain reacting differently to the chemical. Lucas doesn’t, at least not anymore, either because of the strain, or the dosage, or the circumstance, or his brain, or a combination of the four.

But, that connection also means your Shadow has more of an influence on the CU, more sentience, like Desmond’s Shadow, Agent Rainbow. The others’ Shadows were stuck in their personal conscious - as they should be. Shadows are supposed to stay with the person they belong to. Agent Rainbow the chemical, changes that. As Rosemary points out, it weakens that divide, making it possible to connect to someone via the CU. Communicating from one PC, to another, through the CU as a whole. Like the internet.

AR the Shadow could mess around in other PC���s, interacting with the environment. This is especially obvious when he changes a whole ass corridor in Max’s tape, letting Desmond walk through it with nothing in his way when, once AR changes it back to normal, there’s clearly no straight way through without getting hurt. AR doesn’t have complete control, not by a long shot, but he has enough to really fuck with things. Not enough to prevent Desmond from defeating the Shadows, but still. A Shadow having this much influence over a different PC is clearly bad, given a Shadows nature. Which is why it’s very important that they stay in their PC, where they’re supposed to be.

The Shape, this parasite that spreads through peoples PC and the CU? That screws with peoples heads to the point of driving them insane? AR weakened the divide between the CU and ones PC. The Shape breaks it entirely. It enters someone’s PC, messes with them, and once that Shadow is at its strongest, the person having completely given up on fighting it (however subconscious that fight is), it uses that weakness to destroy the PC, opening it to the CU completely, and spreading out to the CU. This releases the Shadow, and while it isn’t as freethinking and Desmonds Shadow, it’s still very destructive.

It can affect other PCs to an extent, and can royally fuck up those more open PCs I mentioned, the ones like Desmond’s that are somewhat merged with the CU. This is how it spreads, at least in a way. It destroys your mind utterly and irreparably, allowing it to take you over, so it can spread in a more physical manner. It destroys you mentally, so that it can destroy you physically, so that it can infect more people, so that it can repeat the process however many times it needs to.

Does this mean that it’s completely indestructible? Yeah, pretty much. Does this mean that you can’t stop it from spreading? Not really. If you can stop it from breaking the PC, then its mental spread stops there. It still weakens the PC, of course. It leaves the person more vulnerable, but it doesn’t get out into the CU, and it can’t infect more PCs. It can only mentally spread to people who are already infected physically, so as long as the person isn’t taken over physically, the spread stops with them.

Does ANY of this make sense. Fuck no! Like I said, the CU isn’t very explained, so we can theorize and headcanon it to oblivion. And in this universe that also has the Shape, which is also not explained, we are Gods at our thrones, pushing around little wooden figures to make an aesthetically pleasing visual. Or something poetic like that, idk.

And now, with the ISM group infected, the Shape is a greater threat than ever. Especially with Desmond, whose PC, as I mentioned before, is very exposed to the CU. In a sense, he’s a doorway to other PCs, though this is limited to a few people. And the Shape happens to be an opportunist.

Now they have an extremely volatile time bomb on their hands, in the form of their cell former therapist, and his former patients, who have all had their PCs weaken by AR the chemical, and Caz and Suze and Billy, have to find a way to keep it from spreading further within the CU. Because they don’t know if anyone else was infected by the Shape. It’s been a long time between Caz getting off the rig, and Addair coming for him, he could have infected anybody between then!

That arc, however, is to be elaborated on more at a different time. I is so very tired at the moment :<. It’s 1am, and it’s been a long day.

Oh my gosh this is awesome tho! I feel powerful, Shaping (heh) this mini plot like silly putty. I’m still working on my wip ISM fic, but between my rapid-fire bursts of motivation, I like thinking about this crossover. There’s so much that I can do with the Shape and AR, it’s giving me headaches. Or I’m just dehydrated, whatever.

[alexandraisyes]

Initial Bloodmoon Thoughts - New vs Old

Disclaimer, this ramble/analysis was made 01/11/2024 and is copy-pasted from the original (me) source on Discord in TSBS server. I have a thread there. There are a few ss of the original thread for when other people came into the conversation.

Thoughts under the cut.

My brain is stuck on BM. I remember how angry everyone was with Earth for saying that she didn't think they could be redeemed because she's supposed to be the "therapist" character but like She's just as much a person as the other animatronics and just because she's "understanding" doesn't mean she has to be forgiving of her literal murderer, I can imagine dying messes a person up (we all saw how Lunar handled it) And where she has to be perfect, she has to be the better bigger person, it's part of her code to always take the moral high ground and turn the other cheek so to speak I'd bet you money she is compartmentalizing the heck out of life So no, I don't blame her for not wanting anything to do with Bloodmoon and thinking he's beyond saving If someone killed me I would write them off too

However Sun on the other hand I'm mostly just crouchy that he's being a spineless cunt He was willing to argue with Moon about BM because he knew that they couldn't help it But he's not saying anything about Eclipse and I'm so grrr Like I get it, Eclipse was kinda crappy, but you aren't stepping back and looking at this rationally Sun, and someone needs to step back and look at it rationally because Moon is way too emotional and always has been, and Sun feeds off of his brother's anxiety and always has

It feels like a double standard on the Celestial Twin's part (cause it is lmao)

"He can't help it, it's all he knows" For Bloodmoon And then "I'm gonna torture that inserts insult" For Eclipse like come on He hasn't even done anything (yet) I can understand why Moon would be more understanding towards BM than Eclipse, but it doesn't mean I have to like it

I've said it once and I will say it time and time again Eclipse is the product of an unhospitable environment that was left to his own devices long enough that he drowned in his own self-loathing and the only anchor that he could perceive was taking that out on those around him All of the Eclipse issues could have been solved if one: Old Moon treated him as more than just a parasite And two: Sun had a single thought in that pretty little head that wasn't just an echo of Moon's

I love Sun to death, don't get me wrong I loathe the fact that even now, with a 'new' Moon, he is still just going along with everything Moon says and decides upon He does not think for himself The one time he did, the one time he tried to escape Moon's hands around his choices, what happened? He failed to kill Eclipse and was goaded into destroying Moon's magic Which did what? ding ding ding Only reaffirmed his prior belief that he's A screw-up, stupid, the dumb one, incapable, unreliable And that Moon is Correct, the smart one, capable, and the one who should be trusted with decisions Which is so so so bad for Sun's psyche

Whereas with Bloodmoon, Sun and Moon cannot seem to get over this idea that he's "like the old Moon he can't help it we understand" Sure, Bloodmoon has a want to kill that is so strong it feels like a need And so did the old Moon But that's where the similarities end They fail to take into consideration bloodmoon's feelings when they talk about 'redeeming him' As well as his origins They only see the surface value because they've already written him off And yeah, bloodmoon is awful Bloodmoon is an awful awful creature who has done horrible things to the celestial family And his instincts do not excuse his behavior However, I hesitate to write him off for similar reasons I won't write Eclipse off He's a product of his environment and Ruin's crappy programming (Not that Ruin is bad at programming, per say, more that Ruin only programmed him in what he thought would make BM a good tool, which leaves out a lot of higher cognitive functions.) As we've already seen, this BM is a lot dumber than the first BM when it comes to rationalizing and recognizing issues past the immediate here and now in specifically their bubble

I think, and this is just a theory, but I think that Sun was thinking of the old BM when he was trying to get through to the BM now. Because the old BM was a lot more complex, a lot smarter, and was able to rationalize with others. This one isn't. This one is vey obviously missing very large chunks of development and personality, and I don't know if it would be kinder to just straight up put him down or try to reprogram him. The issue with reprogramming him is it might break him beyond what he already is. Or it might cause a similar crisis that Moon has when he thinks about "old moon". Not the same, of course, but similar. Or it may just completely erase BM entirely because the celestial idiots have no idea what he was like before Sun killed him past what they see on the surface. So if they were to go the reprogramming route, they'd have to turn to dun dun dun Eclipse Because even if old BM and Eclipse weren't on the best of terms, Eclipse would be able to fix what is missing because he knows the missing peices. Now of course, this only works if it's Eclipse 1.0 or 2.0. If the Eclipse we have now is Eclipse 3.0 then he can't do crap unless the entirety of the BM schematics were in the files Ruin stole, that Eclipse then stole back. And even then, he still can't fully get it if he's Eclipse 3.0 because he's missing the memories of what BM was like. So, with all of that complication, at this point it's easier (not necessarily right) to just put him down. He's dangerous, right? (Rhetorical)

Past Sun's POV on BM, I get the feeling that Moon let Sun try to rationalize with BM because, in Moon's mind, BM and Old Moon are basically the same person. Maybe even KC too. An irrational need to kill is embedded in their codes, and they are powerless to stop it, etc etc. And Moon was probably thinking, "Well, Old me and KC both managed to fight their instincts, so surely BM can too." He fails to recognize that BM doesn't have a support system. Old Moon had Sun, and he was friends with the other animatronics as well. Old Moon also had a best friend, Monty. Monty isn't the best influence, but he is still a friend. And Sun was a good influence on Old Moon. Killcode had a good influence too. He had Sun, Glamrock Freddy, and to an extent, Moon. He had a reason to hold back his violent urges, it would be counterproductive to lash out at old BM and Eclipse 2.0 when they were his allies. Acting on said urges outside of the area would also be counterproductive bc that could endanger the host of the body he was sharing, which would end his own life as well.

BM 2.0 has… no one. Ruin was a bad influence. The stitchwraith was a bad influence. Rodrick was a bad influence. Ruin was manipulating them by being kind, so of course BM 2.0 is going to react poorly to kindness and compassion. It is, in their eyes, just another ploy to make him a tool. He can't trust a helping hand because the first kind hands in his life were lying to him. When you wake up, and all that you know is kindness being a mask, that's what you expect from everyone. And when you're offered help, you react poorly and with hatred because you are expecting to be used just like the person you trusted used you. The only reason he let Solar help him was because Solar was upfront with his intentions, and didn't try to sugarcoat it or play 'friends'. He knew that it was a situation in which they would be taking advantage of each other, but the key there was he knew. Ruin literally destroyed his psyche in the worst ways possible by programming him to be a tool, only showing him the parts of the show that were beneficial to Ruin's plans, and using kindness to manipulate him. BM has every right to be angry and distrustful because the person he considered family was the person who broke him beyond repair. And Sun and Moon don't understand that because they don't understand psychology. Earth may have been able to understand (therapist coding), but BM purposefully made her hate them (perhaps to avoid the kindness they know she gives everyone?). Out of all of the people they could have attacked, they attacked the one person who could have puzzled them out. At this point, the only hope for BM is either Eclipse or a literal miracle.

*Ten hour timeskip*

Okay so I’ve been thinking about Bloodmoon and my earlier statement of “At this point, the only hope for BM is either Eclipse or a literal miracle.” I’d like to rescind that statement to add the potential of Solar Flare since there is talk of bringing him back. I’ll elaborate once I get to my computer, but my mind is buzzing with the idea and the logic that would allow it to work. Because on the surface one squints and goes “And Alex is crazy talking again” But it will make sense once I explain how it could work

So Flare We love Flare I love Flare Flare

Flare has been known for a few things in the show. He's a tool. He was made to protect Killcode. He has limited emotional capacity. He's basically a super computer with a consciousness. He's an absolute beast of an animatronic, and is probably the most dangerous person we have seen on the show. He's also upfront, honest, non-deceptive, and has never shown a preference towards one side or the other. Nor is he friendly. He's not unfriendly, but he doesn't go out of his way to be nice. He gave Moon the schematics to the satellite because it was in KC's best interest, not because he liked Moon or hated Eclipse. There could honeslty be debate on if he's even capable of liking or disliking things, considering how emotionally incapable he is. He's very logical, analytical, etc.

So how does Bloodmoon 2.0 factor into this?

Well, as stated earlier, BM doesn't want kindness. He doesn't want pity, he doesn't want niceness. Flare wouldn't extend him those to start with, so that's one thing crossed off the list. Flare would also be upfront with BM about his intentions, he did straight up tell Eclipse he was helping to kill him, although he omitted the way he was planning to do that. So Flare wouldn't be trying to manipulate BM either. Bloodmoon may also feel some kind of companionship purely from the fact they were both made to be tools. Flare has no need to be loyal to the celestial twins or to Eclipse. I can see him going rogue like KC did. It wouldn't be unplausable that he would seek out BM purely since the twins were considered by KC to be family. And since there isn't a Killcode anymore for Flare to look after, his sons may be the next best thing, even if it isn't BM 1.0. Flare doesn't give a crap, honestly. He can defend himself, but he's also able to just sit there and take a hit. It's unlikely the twins would even be able to damage him were they to try to attack him. He'd probably be able to just let them wear themselves out until they are tired enough they can just be picked up like kittens and taken care of. Due to his stubborn nature mixed with the apathy we've seen displayed, I can see him able to help the twins because he's not gonna just "give up" on them. He can sit back and let them run themselves ragged and then do what he has to once they're all tired out. It wouldn't be the kind of redemption we're used to seeing in the show, and would probably not be a total redemption, but he may be able to tame them enough that they can be handled and fixed by the others. Flare taming BM twins and then reuniting with Eclipse so he can fix them? Interesting thought. Bring the family back together.

Obviously, I'm not saying this is even likely to happen. This won't happen, of course. But it could, in a different universe, I suppose. This was just to serve the purpose of explaining how Flare would be able to help the twins tbh.

Flare is too smart and apathetic to get hung up by a detail like that (in my opinion based off of my observation of him). He’d be pretty quick to piece together that the twins killed KC because they were manipulated into perceiving the older animatronic as a threat. (Once again Ruin why did you have to break them like that). Kinda like how they wanted to kill Monty (maybe still do?) because Ruin talked them into believing that Monty was a threat. Not, not a physical threat, but an emotional one. He (ruin) leaned on the fact that BM was “tricked” in the past by the people that Ruin saw as obstacles to convince BM to take them out

Pair that with volatile emotions and aggressive tendencies and you get a red goblin on a murder spree to avenge BM 1.0 more or less. I don’t think Flare would hold that against him cause he’s always been good at tearing through people’s psyches and finding the root motivations and issues.

And for BM 2.0 those issues and motivations both stem from Ruin’s manipulation

The thing is, I don’t think Flare really cared about KC. For him, it seemed more like protecting KC was just a protocol. Kinda like the protocol to kill for Moon 1.0. It’s just something that he was supposed to do. Which is just further reason why the twins killing KC wouldn’t be a hang-up for him

[dreadpirateella]

uhhh so update, I've read thru chapter 14 of The Neon Void (by @sugarpasteltmnt ) and dude. Like. I'm not the best at describing my feelings thru words but I just need to talk about this fic!!!

Spoiler warning for up to chapter 14 below the cut!

Okokok so like the Leo POV chapters??? Oh I just LOVE it!!!!! And where I'm at rn the boys are kinda figuring things out??? Like Raph juST MIND MELDED WITH LEO WHAT WHAT WHAT AHHHHHHHH????? AND DONNIE'S ONTO SOMETHING LIKE DUDE-

oh I am just SO ready for them to figure out Void is Leo like I can't even IMAGINE how that's gonna go

They're gonna be so heartbroken like it's gonna hurt to read and I'm SO excited for it 😭 But fr the Leo POV chapters are some of my fav. Just seeing like the way the parasite is taking him over more??? It's so cool to watch how his mindset is constantly shifting!! It makes me desperately sad but oh it's just written SO well

And the little sitcom hallucination???? Had me sobbing like I actually can't believe you'd hurt me like that, my boy was so happy 😭

This fic is incredible you have to go read it I'm begging you (and THANK YOU sugarpastels for writing this like I'm actually in love with it!! My excitement rly doesn't show thru well here but I promise I'm like kicking my feet and screaming at this fic when I read it)

OH- and Leo's joy at interacting with his brothers??? Like he's so happy that it makes him just break down in hysterical giggles??? SUCH a good choice like it just reallyyyyy keeps you aware of how messed up he is. And how he's like letting himself get attacked so he can feel their ninpo???? Man I love it so much

Omg and the way the action scenes are written???? This fic feels ALIVE like I can see these scenes in my brain so vividly it's so good like the descriptors and things are just phenomenal I love it sm

[jtficprompt]

A Young Outlaw's Guide to Hitching a Ride Home

Prompts for a series of fics I'll likely not get around to ever writing.

Feel free to adopt and adapt, using as little or as much as you like.

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Wonder Woman; Tim Drake; Ferdinand the Kithotaur (title ideas: "Tell an Adult" "Doing what needs to be done")

Batman is on a plane somewhere over the Atlantic. A slow civilian plane, that definitely isn't big enough to fit the BatPlane in the hold.

Which isn't kind of plane Batman takes when he knows Robin is being hunted by the Joker.

Superman looked half dead in the news footage. He was barely walking by the time parasite was arrested.

The Titans seem to be off world. Tim has no idea how to contact the Flash.

That means Wonder Woman. Which means Tim need to get to the Themiscarian Embassy in DC as fast as possible.

(Also featuring: Cooking lessons and discrete child neglect assessment questions with Ferdinand the Kithotaur.)

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Roy Harper (title ideas: "Friends in Low Places" "The Corn Pollen Path" "First Step")

You don't stop shooting up because heroin stops feeling like heroin. You stop shooting up because you find something more important than the next score.

Roy Harper finds that in a seedy bar in eastern Kasnia, when he hears two thugs he recognizes as Joker henchmen talking about "the boss" going bird hunting in Ethopia.

He may be an addict. He may be a has-been. But he was a Titan, and he will be damned if he scrounges for his next score while another Titan falls into that clown's trap.

Even if it kills him. (He tries not to hope too hard that it does).

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Veronica Vreeland; Roxy Rocket (title ideas: "Ronnie & Roxy's Rescue Service" "I'm the Cool Aunt")

"Roxie! Darling! I need a ride! I have to get to Ethopia so I can kill Harley's ex."

Roxie knew Veroinca Vreeland was crazy. She regularly encouraged Harley to kidnap her "for brunch." She dated the Penguin. Voluntarily. Before today, she just didn't know that "crazy" extended to HALO jumps from a rocket plane on a mission to kill the Joker. … Maybe Ozzie has good taste after all.

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Jordan Hill; Barbara Gordon (title ideas: "Someone who's been there before")

"I'm not an idiot, Babs. I've known you and every single member of the Wayne family since we were kids. We don't have time for this. I don't care what you all get up to at night: Jeckko is hunting Jason, and I'll be damned if I let that asshole hurt another kid."

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Garth of Shayaris (title ideas: "Tagging in" "The-Batman's-an-Asshole-Phone-Tree")

"You're telling me that Vic has a program running that goes through the entire internet to sort out if I'm doing 'something weird'."

"I mean, it used to track Dickie-bird. But yeah."

"Because if Dick was doing something weird, it means B was an asshole."

"Obviously. He's still an asshole, right?"

"Yes. And there is a phone tree for this. For when B is an asshole."

"Yes."

"Aren't you supposed to be King of Atlantis right now? Seems like you should have shit to do. Besides following my ass to Ethopia."

"Acting King. And if Arthur can be an asshole and dump all his work on me without asking, I can definitely take a personal day."

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Ra's Al Ghul (title ideas: "Ra's Al Ghul is many things")

"Sir, he has the boy."

"Where is the Detective?"

"He's on his way. But, sir, he won't make it there in time."

"I should never have allied myself with that madman."

Ra's paused and gazed out the window. Talia wondered how may people besides her would recognize regret in her father's face.

"Then I must go in the Detective's stead. Have the hangars ready our fastest plane, then fetch my armor and swords." Her father did not turn from the window as Ubu rushed out to see to his orders. He simply stared out the window until he spoke again.

"Talia. Prepare the pit while I am gone. His father will not thank me for it, but if my folly comes to its worst end I will not deprive my grandson of his brother."

[misc-obeyme]

HI HELLO I'M BACK AGAIN. I've been so full of energy the past two days because it's been weirdly slow at work (Calm before the storm ig, grand opening celebration this weekend 😭). Like I spent an hour each on t shirts and yarn on Tuesday, and today I meticulously (?) recovered craft paint, ribbon, and consolidated two displays?? Plus I made a new end cap display?? I WAS BORED OUT OF MY MIND FINDING THINGS TO DO

anyway I'm here to talk about silly things, today being the dinner rotation at the HoL. The retreat in season 1 feels like the first time MC cooks for them?? But seven days in a week, do you think MC took over Belphie's day? I'm assuming Lucifer did at first, or it was used as a punishment to have extra dinner duty.

I feel like Beel and Belphie always cooked together on their days. Like they have their twin telepathy, they're probably passing things back and forth in the kitchen and able to keep each other on task pretty well. Belphie holds his hand out and Beel wordlessly hands him the salt. Belphie knows when to give Beel samples, while also making sure Beel doesn't eat everything. Beel will keep Belphie engaged and on task so that dinner doesn't get burnt. They've got their routine DOWN.

It makes me wonder how MC learned to cook Devildom dishes. Were they shadowing the brothers? Was Lucifer teaching them simple dishes? Were they given a cookbook? (Imagine Satan annotating it with substitutions if an ingredient wasn't human safe.) A list of ingredients that were human safe and told 'good luck'?

Imagine Beel comes into the kitchen on Belphie's days, even after the exchange program starts and MC has taken over. If MC was given a list of ingredients, Beel could probably think of a number of dishes and guide them. And MC would probably be letting Beel sample a ton to make sure they're doing it right.

Maybe this turns into Beel and MC cooking dinner together on their days! MC who wants to learn more dishes, and Beel who wants company. God he's such a sweetheart, I love him so much 😭 Brothers Under A Pact group will always have a special place in my heart.

I've had this idea planned for like three asks ago, but then I had other things I was dying to ramble about. I am currently fighting the parasites (have you heard that audio on tiktok?) to ramble about my mammon x solomon x mc crack ship. and also just in general about mammon (i feel you on the writing essays about your faves) !! i was daydreaming scenarios for both of these things, the second one involving my mc singing along to music AAAA

okay okay I'm done, BYEEE, I hope you have/had a good day!!!

- ✨ anon

Welcome back, ✨ anon! It sounds like work is going well, I hope things go well for the grand opening too!

Oh I'm loving this idea about the cooking rotation... I agree that it seems likely that Beel and Belphie would cook together on their days. And then Beel just shows up when MC takes over because he's so used to it. And then later, when Belphie is there, too, they both spend their time with MC in the kitchen...

I've thought a lot about how MC learns to cook in the Devildom. Because I'm not a terrible cook, but I tend to go with my gut on most things. Like I'll buy a bunch of random ingredients because they sound good. Then I'll follow my heart and make whatever I want.

But I feel like I wouldn't be able to do that if I don't know what the ingredients taste like or how they cook? And like... I've made food for multiple people before, but I've been cooking for one for years, so I think it'd be hard for me to make sure I have enough for seven to eight people!

If they have some ingredients that are basically the same, I could probably get by. But I think I'd have a stretch of time where I would struggle. I'd be like, listen if you guys want edible food, I'm gonna need lessons or a cookbook because otherwise you're getting trial and error until I figure this stuff out.

I really love the idea of Lucifer teaching MC how to cook simple Devildom dishes. That's such a Mom thing for him to do and I think it'd be really cute. I also love the idea of a cookbook annotated by Satan. Like I'm just seeing him scribbling out some ingredient like DO NOT USE THIS IF YOU WANT TO LIVE, MC followed by a list of human safe substitutes lol.

After that, it's all Beel telling MC about dishes he likes and sampling what MC makes as they go. I love that, it's so sweet. And it probably helps him when he's missing Belphie during season one. Aww and then when they're all together, it's just bonding time~

The other brothers probably show up from time to time for MC's cooking shift just to add their own ideas and instructions.

They sometimes get together so they can deliberately obtain human world ingredients to bring MC for their cooking day. Like maybe every time Beel is there (which is all the time lol), he asks MC about their favorite human world dishes. And MC just tells him all about the food they used to make at home. Beel won't forget what MC talks about, so he can tell the others. I'm sure Barbatos has a human world food supplier he uses or something.

Then they leave all the human world ingredients in the kitchen for MC to find 'cause they want to try something that MC would've made in the human world.

Feel free to ramble all you like, you don't have to hold back any parasites! (I had not heard this audio, as I'm not on TikTok a ton, but I went to find it and was entertained lol.) I'm definitely not one to judge about long rambles, that's like every post I create.