#if anyone can help me escape or know things

[joinsideke]

And I actually did NOT say "not wanting to be raped is purity culture". I did NOT say we should get raped rather than commit suicide (as if it's one or the other, as if most women even know they're about to get raped and have time to kill themselves instead, as if this is the norm). I did NOT say surviving trauma is easy. And I most definitely did not say anyone should go on living through endless torture they can't escape, you hyperbolic twit.

So here, let me extrapolate what I actually did say, since reading comprehension is not your strong suit:

Feminists like to say rape is a fate worse than death. I said that rape is not inherently worse than death, because death is final. You can survive rape and though it may be difficult, you can get help, you can get better, and you can go on to have a fulfilling life. This is not to say you necessarily will, just that it's possible and worth trying for, whereas nothing is possible if you're dead. Call me an optimist, but I believe in the potential for happiness, even with life's hardships. I do not believe victims of rape or any other abuse are doomed for it.

But feminists don't seem to agree. They claim rape is the worst thing that can happen to a woman, and that they would rather kill themselves instead. This notion and what it implies is what I'm calling purity culture. Again, why is rape worse than death? Does it mean you're ruined for life? You're damaged goods because a man forced himself on you? You'll never find happiness again, so that's why it would have been better if you had killed yourself? Cos that's sure what it sounds like. Do you not see the problem with this? If rape is worse than death, how can rape victims go on living?

I saw in your tags that you have been raped before, and I am genuinely sorry to hear that. But you didn't kill yourself, and you add that you're still not sure if you would or not if faced with that situation again. Kinda contradicting what you're saying in your post, but I get it. It's a traumatic, awful thing to go through and no one should ever have to go through it. I understand why you have complicated feelings about it.

I'm not saying you or anyone should choose rape over death. I'm saying you shouldn't have to choose death over life. I don't care about hypotheticals, I'm worried about what this rhetoric does to people who have survived. Yall deserve better than that.

Haven't seen anyone else addressing how the "feminist" preference for being eaten by a bear over meeting a man alone in the woods is in large part about purity culture and terror of rape.

Like, this whole thing is an obvious reference to older tales where the virtuous maiden flees the wicked men and gets eaten by a bear or fell off a cliff, but at least she died a virgin!

I miss where there was at least a feminist contingent that thought that being raped wasn't a fate worse than death.

[anarcho-smarmyism]

help an nb and trans little sister escape TX

i haven't wanted to make a donations post for myself for the past months no matter how dire things got, considering so many other fundraisers are much more pressing, but my situation has gotten dire. i was able to leave an abusive relationship with a man who was threatening suicide on a regular basis and then cyberstalking me, but i ended up losing transportation, my job, and my housing in the process, and ultimately had to move back into a toxic and dangerous household (as in, someone pulled a gun on me to prove a point within the last week) back in Texas. as many of you know, TX has now been declared a no-travel state for trans people, and having grown up here and been a youth activist during Trump's election back when i was in high school, the local Republican Christian transphobes and homophobes know me by name and face, and my family is either unable or unwilling to give me rides to work, even assuming i can find a legitimate job. to make matters worse, my little sister is a trans woman and lives only a few hours away from Odessa, where there has been a $10,000 bounty offered for any trans people caught using the bathroom.

i desperately need to begin to save money to move; i have several possible safe places offered in North America, but with no car of my own and very limited funds, i have few options. i even had to borrow money from someone to get my old bank account out of overdraft because i couldn't get anyone to help me open a new account. i'm hoping that i can also find a safe home for my three cats, maybe even bring one or several of them with me wherever i go, but for now i have to start saving money for the eventuality that me and my younger sister have to flee within the next few months.

i'm going to try and set up an Etsy store for additional income while i try to find a job, but in the meantime, any donations or purchases of a tarot reading, or simply sharing this post as widely as possible, could be a literal lifesaver.

venmo: @Smarmy

cashapp: $smarmy1

paypal: @Regan451

(i can also use zelle)

[cumikering]

John Price x reader

2.5k | tw implied sui ideation, angst, comfort Thank you for being here today

John smiled to himself as he watched from the end of the bar. A few feet away, a group of three women chatted. The pub was packed, but it didn’t escape his notice that one in particular laughed so bright. The life of the party.

It was the same woman who ordered for the group, round after round. In fact, for other groups too. She’d sent rounds to random tables the past hour.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but what caught his eye was how his battery was at 4%. A stupid idea to be out on such little juice, but the outing wasn’t planned – it was no more than an escape.

His thoughts were interrupted when the barman placed a pint next to the bourbon he’d been nursing. He opened his mouth to clarify-

“Courtesy of the lady,” he gestured to the very same woman.

John nodded at her, the corners of his eyes crinkled. She raised her own pint in acknowledgment. He finished the last of his bourbon and made his way over with the gift.

“Noticed you’ve been buying people drinks. What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Saturday night. No one should be drinking alone.” She sipped her beer.

The corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “But aren’t we all fundamentally alone?”

“Correct, but not here-“ She shrugged, teasing. “If you can help it.”

“Honest, is it your birthday?”

“Nah. Just happy.”

“Wanna be like you when I grow up.”

Her laughter was crisp yet warm. It caressed his ears despite the rumble of the establishment.

“Cheers, love.” He clinked his glass against hers and took a swig.

“Enjoy.” She followed suit before turning back to her friends.

He lingered, leaning against the bar as his gaze wandered across the room. Framed photos of vintage rugby and football stills crammed the wooden walls as they glinted under the deep yellow glow. The pub had seen better days, but from the size and chatter of the crowd, it didn’t seem like anyone cared.

He didn’t either. He didn’t pick pubs for its looks.

Behind his glass, he smiled again at the way the woman laughed so easily. She reminded him of a certain someone, a blue-eyed Scot who never stopped soaring despite his clipped wings. The one with the sun roaring in his boundless heart.

The one to do things because he was happy.

She downed her beer, and gave each of her girls a tight hug. She was leaving, but not for a short time it seemed. She turned to the barman to tap her phone on the receiver before handing him a thick wad of bills. The grin cracked his face in half as he thanked her profusely.

John took a step towards her. “Leaving already?” he asked, a little louder this time due to the swelling noise.

“It’s almost 12.”

“Are you Cinderella?”

She laughed. “Wish I was.”

“You can be. I’ll just have to make sure to find you again.”

“No, don’t think so. It’s my last night here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m moving away.”

That explained the lengthy hugs. “Oh, where to?”

“Middle of nowhere. You wouldn’t know.”

John knew a thing or two about faraway places. He spent the entirety of that day in one.

“You’re really Cinderella,” he concluded and downed the rest of his pint. “Have you got a pumpkin chariot waiting outside?”

“It’s nothing that interesting.” She grinned. “Want to enjoy my walk before it’s terribly late.”

“I can walk with you, if you’d let me. You did say no one should be alone Saturday night.“

He was nosy, clingy – not himself. But after managing to crawl out of the hellhole he called his mind, this was his first conversation of the day and he wasn’t ready to wallow in his flat again just yet.

She shrugged. “Alright, why not.”

Once more, she hugged her friends, rubbing their backs. They were teary eyed, but she wasn’t - her smile as lively as ever. He tucked a few notes under his glass before following her out.

On the pavement, she took a lungful of fresh air in, chin tipped up towards the sky. He supposed the weather was decent. At least it wasn’t raining.

His boots thudded as he walked next to her. With her hands tucked in the pockets of her light jacket, she strolled with a little bounce to her step as she looked up at the stars. They were easy to miss, but they were present, and it was enough to bring a curve to her lips.

“I’m sorry, I just have to ask,” he said in amusement. “Why are you so happy?”

“Don’t have a reason not to be.”

Could you really be happy for no reason?

He chuckled. “You make me want to dance, and I don’t even dance.”

She glanced at him teasingly. “You should. Dancing is fun.”

“You know how to?”

“No, but you don’t need to know how.”

“Want to show me?”

She turned to him with a laugh. “What, now?”

He shrugged. Her joy was contagious.

“Well, first of all, you need music.”

“Lucky you, I got the whole world in my pocket.” He pulled out his phone and clicked the power button. Once, twice. It wouldn’t light up. “I take that back,” he said with a sheepish chuckle. “Your phone then.”

“If we find a busker.”

He barked out a laugh. “What are the chances at this hour!”

“Slim to none, but you’re probably luckier than me.”

John thought of the close calls he’d had: the gunshots to the shoulders or the bullets ricocheting off his helmet that sent his ears ringing, or the desperate jumps he’d executed from cold-blooded heights. But despite everything, the gift of life was still his. Still beating and fluttering in his rough hand, stained with blood that hadn’t washed off.

He hummed. “I like to think I’m pretty lucky.”

With wonder in her bright eyes, she continued to admire the sky.

Was the secret etched onto its darkness, behind the fading clouds and dying stars? Perhaps he could find out if he squinted, even that he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to look at.

Midnight London was nothing close to the desert skies he’d witnessed; the marbled ones with a handful of diamond shards splattered and swirled across them, the ones that made him feel like he was nothing but a speck of stardust waiting for its inevitable dissolve.

But perhaps the answer wasn’t in the beauty, but rather in what you made of what you had.

John glanced at her again because, well, a smile was a smile. If the unassuming sky could inflict something so beautiful, maybe it would work on him too. Even if just a tiny bit. If he’d just give it a chance.

As they entered her neighbourhood, she pointed out the establishments. This flower shop, the owner stopped her one day to give her a stalk of red orchid. That one cafe around the corner had amazing coffee and croissant, but she couldn’t bear waiting over an hour for them ever again. The chippy across it used to be her favourite kebab shop.

She chuckled. “I came in every week for years. It’s been three years and I still miss them.”

“You reckon they know how much their kebabs are loved?”

“Probably not. People never love enough until it’s gone.”

He considered.

“What does it matter anyway? The world runs on the width and height of love, not its depth.”

He shrugged. “True.”

He’d never taken the time to sightsee. It wasn’t really his thing, but a little tour of the city - the city she was leaving - made him feel nostalgic, like he too was leaving. Was he?

It didn’t feel like it took any time at all before she stopped at a building.

She turned to him with a wince. “Sorry, I’m not inviting you in.”

“I know. That’s fine.” John smiled, like the weight had been lifted off his chest, even if temporarily. “Today wasn’t the best for me, but you’ve made it better. So I wanted to thank you.”

She let her gaze drop, and for a second she looked… distraught, before recovering. “Well, you can come in for a bit.”

“Oh, don’t- I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” he quickly said, but she’d headed towards the stairs. He didn’t stop her.

She pushed open the door to a studio apartment, tiny even when it was nearly empty.

“Tea?” she offered, making her way to the kitchen.

Her bed was in the far corner, a small table with two chairs by its foot. Across it, stood a dresser with a guitar leaning against it. The walls and surfaces were bare. There was no clutter apart from an empty carboard box on the floor.

“Sure.”

He didn’t judge. He too barely had enough to fill out a box, but that was his room on base, not his flat.

“You’ve got everything packed, it looks like.”

She hummed, filling the kettle up.

“Can I use your charger for a bit so I can order a ride later?”

“Of course. It’s on the nightstand.”

John made his way over, but the charger wasn’t there, nor on the floor. Nor was it in the ajar drawer. It was empty, safe for one thing. He whipped to her, chills running down his spine.

“Actually, why don’t you keep it. I don’t need it anymore,” she said lightly, flicking the kettle on.

“S’not there,” he muttered.

She scanned the room. “Oh, sorry. Then it must be by the table,” she pointed.

Wordlessly, he strode over and plugged his phone in with shaky hands. He swallowed, his throat going dry as his heart drained. He stared at the back of her head as she opened the overhead cabinet, only to chuckle to herself.

“I’ve only got a mug left. A bowl would have to do.” She set them on the counter and opened two tea bags.

He was going to be sick. He blinked rapidly, searching for something to distract himself with. His eyes fell to her guitar. He swallowed once more before he croaked, “T- That’s a gorgeous one.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled fondly at what he was pointing at. “It is. But one of the pegs broke and I never picked it back up.”

“Can I play?”

She frowned. “You can’t. It’s broken.”

“I’ll make do.”

“But it’s useless. I was going to give it away, but no one even wants it.”

“It’s still a guitar. And it’s not broken forever. Nothing is ever broken beyond repair.”

She paused before turning back to the counter. “Feel free then,” she said quietly.

He sat crossed legged on the floor, back against her bed. He strummed and tuned the dusty instrument as best he could. As expected, it didn’t sound right because of the jammed string.

His heart continued to beat out of his chest as she poured the hot water into the mug and bowl. She set them on the table before settling next to him.

The lump in his throat only swelled, but he turned towards her. His fingers trembled as he picked the strings. The first chord. A beat. A bar and two.

He let out a long, steady exhale. On any other day, he couldn’t have endured the disharmony, but today the ringing in his ears were far louder as he inhaled.

“Love of mine, someday you will die, but I’ll be close behind. I’ll follow you into the dark.”

John’s blue eyes stayed on hers as a smile blossomed on her lips. The sight pained him. His gaze cut to the fretboard.

“No blinding lights or tunnels to gates of white. Just our hands clasped so tight waiting for the hint of a spark.”

The metal strings buried themselves further in his fingertips. He drew a sharp breath, eyes shut, wishing the tears wouldn’t spill. Not now.

“If heaven and hell decide that they both are satisfied. Illuminate the ‘no’s on their vacancy signs. If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks,” he heaved, trying his best to calm his voice, but a tear finally slipped. “I’ll follow you into the dark,” he rasped.

When he looked up at her, she had turned away, wiping at her tears.

He set the guitar aside and inched closer to her. “I saw…” he started, even when he wasn’t sure what to say. “In the drawer.”

But he couldn’t help himself when he wrapped his arms around her. She clung onto him, face pressing against his shoulder.

“It hurts,” she choked between sobs, her tears seeping into his shirt. “I keep telling myself to hold on for another day… But it’s been too long, and it hasn’t stopped hurting.”

“I know. Thank you for choosing to be here, no matter how hard. Thank you for trying. Thank you for giving it a chance, every day. Thank you for letting the world love you, because it will never be the same without you.”

“I don’t know how much longer,” she mumbled into his shirt, shaking in his arms.

He rubbed her back as he let out a breath. Another tear ran down his cheek. “It might not be now. Might not be tomorrow or next week or next month, but I swear it will be okay in the end. Always. Even if the worst has happened.”

John didn’t know how long, but in the silence, he held her until her tears and its tremors dissipated. Her grip on him loosened.

“If you… Tonight…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Would you?”

She nodded. It was tiny, but it was all he needed.

He wiped his own tears with a shaky sigh. “Come on then. It’s your birthday. We can do whatever we want.”

“What?” She pulled away with a chuckle, her voice still hoarse.

“Let’s go out.”

“Where to?”

“Anywhere you want. Are you hungry? There’s waffles. Or chippy, pizza or kebab. The birthday girl can have everything.”

“What about the tea? It’s not even hot anymore.”

“Lucky me. Never been a fan of hot tea.”

She laughed through her drying tears as he chugged it down.

John Price considered himself pretty lucky, but he wasn’t lucky enough to find a busker in 2 a.m. London.

But he was lucky enough to spend hours on his tired legs walking across the city with her. They bought food - whatever that still looked appealing enough at the hour, until they decided to rest at a park. At the top of the stairs as they looked upon the rousing city, they basked in the remainder of its slumber.

At the break of dawn, in the distance, the blush of gold crept over the horizon.

She turned to him. It might not have been as wide or bright, but that smile carried something else. An empty field with the faintest sprout, stained with a tinge of hope.

“I’ll get my guitar fixed.”

It looked good on her.

Thank you for being here today. I’m so happy to have you here. Please stay safe and take care

Masterlist Ex bf Price Formula One Price

[ipleadbritney]

could we please have ↻ FLIP FLOP for the first kiss scene in three-sixteenths???

thank you dear!!! 💕

- kitty 💕 (aka three-sixteenths’ biggest fan)

for @utopiastri who's really the sweetest!! ask game post here thank you for letting me revisit three-sixteenths in oscar's pov!!

3/16 the first kiss, flip flop

“Uncomfortable?” Lando repeats. 

“With my magic. I don't want to make you throw up, or, you know.”

Oscar himself is one wrong move away from throwing up, actually. Yesterday threw him in for a spinner. Every time he blinks, he conjures up the walls of Monaco around him, waiting and waiting. 

He hoped to get some rest today, to let his magic stretch over the new place. Nico Rosberg mentioned in an interview once how telekinesis in Monaco is different. Everything's lighter. Oscar wouldn't mind trying it. 

But Lando called, and, well. Oscar was already skimming teleportation crash guides in the middle of their call.

Lando and curses is a horrible combination. It's taking everything in Oscar not to panic.

Lando clears his throat. “I asked you to come here so you could probe at it. And I'm not throwing up. Magic reflects the person, right? I answered your call for a reason, and I'm glad I did.”

How can Oscar not panic when Lando just says the sweetest things like it's nothing?

But someone has to be calm between the two of them, and Oscar's not going to pass the responsibility on the person who's cursed.

He rubs at the empty space where his suppressor usually is. Calm down. “I'm glad you answered my call, Lando. I really am.” 

Better him than anyone else. If Oscar's right, then—

True Love's Kiss is a powerful spell that has wavered in popularity in recent decades. Most historians agree it is common for any spell to have crests and troughs. This particular case, however, has stumped some of the wisest living magical minds. 

Has humanity polluted our world to the point of a Great Spell extinction? Do we even need True Love's Kiss anymore?

Oscar forces a smile, ignoring his thoughts. Not much a textbook can help them with, right?

Lando smiles back. Oscar loosens up. 

Maybe it's not True Love's Kiss. 

What if it is?

It doesn't have to be. Oscar can just kiss Lando right now. Fix the curse after. Free Lando's wrist. Explain somehow along the way that he like Lando enough to think he'd break True Love's Kiss if it came down to it.

It won't. 

Lando's phone vibrates and lights up with a text notification. Oscar barely makes out the name Charlie. 

“Aren't you going to read that?” Oscar asks.

Lando shakes his head, still smiling. Dazed. “No, it's probably a stupid notif—” he checks his phone “—fucking finally, Charlie's awake.”

He's mouthing the words as he reads them, something that hasn't escaped Oscar. Cute, of course, but also. The text can't be that long. 

Lando sits up straighter. He's re-reading the text. Again and again.

Worry's bubbling up inside Oscar. Unfortunately, his worries have a nasty way of materializing through his magic.

So does Lando's. There's buzzing in the air, like static TV.

He tightens the control on his magic. He won't be of any help to Lando if he's a mess on his own.

After what must've been the 20th re-read, Oscar asks, “What did Charles say?”

“I need to kiss someone Italian. To break the curse, I need to kiss someone Italian.”

Lando all but throws his phone to Oscar for him to check. Charles’ texts confirm Oscar's suspicions, or at least part of it. Being right is such an overrated emotion. 

Can TLKs be bound by other conditions apart from the whole yeah you're my one true love? Kiss-curses that aren't TLK are even rarer. Leave it up to the Monaco Grand Prix to attract generational magic users who can randomly cast a kiss-curse.

What if Charles misheard it? Misunderstood. Mistranslated. 

What if he didn't?

“I hoped it would be different,” Oscar starts. “Not that you'll have a hard time finding someone Italian to kiss, no, but uh, Sophie will have our heads. Because it'll cause a riot, maybe. Then they'll resurrect us so Sophie can have our heads again.”

Please let the floor swallow Oscar whole.

“Thanks, I guess?” Lando says, and his face is so open, you can see every single emotion he's feeling right now. 

Oscar wonders if Lando can read him the same way. Like how he's no longer surprised when Oscar sticks close to him in public, anticipates it. Leaves a little bit of space for Oscar to slide through. It's the type of understanding and clarity Oscar's always wanted.

“You know, I'm 3/16 Italian,” Oscar blurts out. 

Lando half-splutters, half-laughs. “You don't have to cheer me up, Osc."

“I didn't say it to just cheer you up. I'm here to help. That's why I'm here, yeah?”

For the first time since coming here— which is the first time he's ever been in Lando's apartment and everything is Lando Lando Lando —Oscar's mind is clear. 

“Reckon it'll work?” 

“Won't know if we won't try."

Oscar can still backtrack. He can salvage the threads of their professional relationship. Nevermind that their professionalism has turned into Lando practically sitting on his lap during meetings because his seat doesn't “seat right”. 

But Lando's beaming. “Sure. Let's do it.”

Huh. It can't be that easy. It can only be that easy if Lando likes Oscar back. He doesn't. Probably. “Oh, okay.”

Nothing happens. Is it up to Oscar? Well, Lando's handcuffed to his bed, so. Oscar needs to, good God. Oscar needs to.

“Do you think it's supposed to be, like…” Oscar took three magic-related electives and none of them talked about breaking possible kiss-curses.

“Kiss on the mouth?” Lando’s smile grows even wider. Does he? Like Oscar back? “You're the magic nerd here.”

“I'm really not.”

“Go big or go home,” Lando says.

Suddenly Lando hooks a finger on Oscar's collar and pulls him closer. Oscar kneels in front of Lando, one of his legs bracketed by Lando's thighs. Lando's pretty like this, looking up at Oscar. 

Oscar touches Lando's cheek. “This okay?” he murmurs.

Lando closes his eyes and leans into his touch. Nods.

Oscar presses a soft kiss on Lando's mouth. The buzzing's gone, has been for a long time, maybe. 

He pulls back just the slightest, but Lando's kissing him. Oscar is reeled right back in, deeper this time. Lando holds him by his waist. Gentle but secure.

Oscar's dreamt of this before, but those didn't. Get the details correct. Lando's sighs. His taste. His magic.

Fuck, Oscar's own magic. He can feel it slipping out of his control.

Lando parts open his mouth, a permission for Oscar to take. How much can Oscar take? How much is he willing to take?

There's a clicking sound and a wash of strange magic, bursting then fading away.

The handcuffs. Oscar almost forgot about that. 

They move apart, which is a bit hard with Lando's fingers curled up in his shirt.

The curse leaves behind a cloud of gold and green glitter. A few specks land on Lando's nose then melt off. 

“I'll call you first if I ever get cursed again,” Lando says, laughing. There's a halo surrounding his head. Oscar's magic. 

“I'm 1/16 Chinese.” He returns to his spot at the foot of the bed. “Call me even if you're not cursed?” 

“Don't jinx it, mate.”

Oscar's not going to jinx it. No hexes or curses or any love spells, either. He doesn't trust his magic to not influence Lando. He puts his suppressor on, and it sucks the fucking air out of the room. 

“Sorry,” he tells Lando. “It's, I've got my suppressor back on.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Broke the curse already, didn't we?”

Lando tilts his head, assessing. “We did.”

What do they do now? 

Lando takes the lead, as he usually does. “Want lunch? I'll reserve us a spot, so don't leave. Give me, like, 15.”

As if Oscar would ever say no to lunch with Lando. “I'd like that, sure. Let's get lunch.”

If it hadn't been a kiss-curse, they would've probably kissed some more. Oscar tries not to be too hung up about it.

[haruka-vii]

Help request to Rayman and retrogaming fans

Unfortunately, as much as I’m making efforts in solving my long-term unemployment situation there are things out of my control and I reached a point I really, really, need help.

Besides my grandma’s recent passing, there’s been a collection of unlucky events happening to me and my family in a small time interval. Both our dish washing machine and my Nintendo Switch Lite need to be repaired. The console stopped turning on regardless what I do and it’s out of warranty already. The console’s fixing, alone, can be up to 103€ according to the Iberian Nintendo support page).

But the worst case was our car’s “death”. Days after my grandma’s funeral, the car burnt its electronic system to the point of replacing that system being more expensive than the current value of the car of the same model without problems, meaning we were forced to replace the whole vehicle to a different model. The car is essential for our quotidian lives even for simple things such as doing groceries and buying food and cat litter for our seven small felines that we own. The latter unpredictable expense is very costly and adds a bigger layer of problems on my family’s end about financial management given that my mother is also jobless and there’s the bed replacement (done in January 2024) funds I want to also return to her whenever I manage.

2025 is going to be a difficult year for me and I already recently had to shrink down my Crash Bandicoot collection to a single item for a start but it’s still not enough. Now I had to make a very difficult decision of selecting personal items from my private Rayman collection and make them available to anyone in the Rayman and retrogaming fan community to be able to purchase in case they show interest in any particular object.

Please note the following details:

Products that are shown alongside with other product or more in the same photograph square means that those items are only sold as a pack/batch and not separately. I can clarify which ones by DM if you aren’t sure through the photographs.

I ship to most countries in the world, and always with tracking code so we’re both able to know its whereabouts. I won’t accept other types of shipping due to safety reasons.

The shipping address and other sensitive information will be exclusively used to ship the parcel.

Prices will be always discussed by DM, as well shipping costs as these vary depending on the destination country and parcel weight.

PayPal only for payments. While I prefer EUR currency I can also accept GBP and USD.

I’m conscious of how a good portion of the list contains particularly rare and valuable collectibles.

Some items prices are negotiable, especially if someone is interested in acquiring at least 3 different items or more that combined make up a significant total.

All items work 100%, including the Playstation accessories.

The Rayman memory card will be formatted if it gets a new onwer.

MS-DOS era games require emulation techniques to work on modern computers and there are community projects like Rayman Control Panel that help with that.

All games are complete in the box and between very good condition to like new.

The Rayman memory card is in good overall state.

The statues are like new and will be packed carefully to avoid transportation damage.

I can consider including the matching Switch videogame to the pack if I get a fair offer.

I reserve the right to not accept a sale for reasons not mentioned here.

List of items available in the photos:

Rayman Gold [PC/MS-DOS] (Rare, Original Big Boxed United Kingdom Edition)

Rayman For Ever [PC/MS-DOS] (Rare, Original Big Boxed France Edition, it even includes a Ubisoft catalogue with unique Rayman drawings)

Quick CD-ROM Demo Nº2 - Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc [PC/Windows]

Rayman M [PC/Windows] (United Kingdom Edition, still factory sealed!)

Rayman Rush [Sony PlayStation] + DualShock Controller [Sony PlayStation]

Rayman 2: The Great Escape [PC/Windows] (Very rare, Original Big Boxed United States of America Edition; I only saw maybe not more than 2 copies like this for sale online in over 15 years)

Rayman 100 Niveaux Inédits [PC/Windows] (Rare, Original Big Boxed France Edition)

Rayman Designer [PC/Windows] (Rare, Original Big Boxed France Edition)

Rayman 1 [PC/Windows] (Rare, Original Big Boxed European Edition)

Rayman Gold [PC/Windows] (Rare, Original Big Boxed France Edition)

Rayman 3: Hoodlum Havoc [PC/Windows] (The manual is translated in Portuguese but the games are in multilanguage)

Rayman 2: The Great Escape Sony Playstation Memory Card (Guillemot brand, uncommon item)

Rayman Raving Rabbids [PC/Windows] (Original United Kingdom Edition)

Rayman Raving Rabbids Activity Centre [PC/Windows] (Original United Kingdom Edition)

Rayman 2: The Great Escape [Sony Playstation] (Original France and Germany Edition)

Full collection of 4 medium-sized PVC statues of Mario+Rabbids: Kingdom Battle characters

Other alternative ways to help me that don’t involve buying my Rayman items:

Ko-Fi donations (https://ko-fi.com/haruka_vii)

Currently opened with the goal I’ve referred earlier of collecting enough funds of the bed replacement expenses to return to my mother combined with the needed funds to be able to send my Nintendo Switch Lite for repair.

Art commissions

I can open a limited number of slots and draw single or groups of characters in a single digital or traditional drawing. Details can be discussed through DM!

Reblogging and sharing

If you know anyone who could be potentially interested in getting anything please share them, it’s also a help!

I don’t like to ask help but it’s been a rough timeline for me. Thank you for reading in advance, any help is greatly appreciated while I don’t manage to find a job. 🙏

[notmorbid]

these violent delights.

dialogue prompts from these violent delights by micah nemerever.

i never told you my name.

who puts those awful ideas in your head?

you're forever assuming the worst.

what's that face? you look like you're going to cry.

you're one of those people who worry all the time, aren't you?

i don't worry, i ruminate. they're distinct actions.

nothing made you. you just are.

beautiful things are supposed to hurt.

people tell you you're shy all the time, don't they?

i don't know how i ever got on without you.

a little trouble is a good thing for a young person.

i wasn't born yesterday. i know what kids get up to.

it's good to have guns to stick to.

you could do anything to me and i'd let you.

i'm not ready to be seen. not yet.

i don't need you to treat me respectfully. i'm not made of glass.

tell me you love me, at least. please. i need to know somebody does.

do i look normal? i can't tell if i look normal.

you can get away with anything, as long as you act like an authority on the truth.

don't tell me what i want.

you know you're just about the worst liar i've ever met.

i don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you.

you're so square, you're a cube.

i just want you to believe me when i tell you you're worth something.

there are limits to what you can expect people to understand, without living it.

you can't fight everybody all the time. you still have to live with them.

i forget how blue the sky can be outside the city.

i'm going to push you off a cliff, you fucking boy scout.

thank you for trusting me with this.

be a kid while you still can.

please believe in the things i try to tell you, instead of the things you think you deserve to be told.

if the sun touched you for even a moment, you'd go up in flames. like a vampire.

your voice changes when you're angry.

what a lonely, dreary thing it is to know the truth.

you never look away, even when your eyes are closed, but i'm never certain you can see what's really there.

tell me you need me. in those words.

can i tell you something? that i'm all but certain you won't believe?

i never lie to you. but sometimes, i wish i could.

you never let me pretend the truth is alright when it isn't.

you have a profound, elusive sadness about you.

you didn't. please tell me you didn't.

you and your awful little games.

why would i bother to grow my own conscience when you're always around to pester me?

you're going to help me escape.

this house is a shadowbox, never meant for human things.

you have no right to stop me, and you're not going to try.

you're sweet, when you want to be.

do you want me to kill ____? i mean it.

it might do you good to be an orphan.

you're just so sincerely creepy.

wealthy people pay handsomely for the privilege of ignoring cries for help.

i've never seen you like that before. not once.

i've decided to learn to be impulsive.

the worst damage humans do isn't rooted in malice, but in thoughtlessness.

there's such a thing as right and wrong. anyone can figure out the difference if they're willing to think for themselves.

there's no part of you i can't see.

i don't want to hurt you. please don't let me.

you're ridiculous, sometimes. but that's alright.

i don't want you right now. go home.

i'm not like you. i don't even have a shape of my own to hold anything else in place.

i'll never matter the way you do, and you know it.

say what you need to say.

if you say the word 'deserve' one more time, i'm driving us off a bridge.

i've been meaning to talk to you about ____.

i'm worried about what you're getting into.

you don't see me. you can't. you never could.

it's your life. you're entitled to make your own mistakes.

i want you to know you deserve better. you don't have to put up with ____.

you scare the hell out of me. you really do.

you look the same way you always have.

i was worried i'd lost you.

i'll take care of you. i don't need you to be brave.

all i want to do is make you happy, and you're the unhappiest person i've ever met.

i would rather be cruel than weak.

i want you to let me be nice to you today. i don't care if you think you deserve it.

this place looks like somewhere in a jigsaw puzzle.

it's always been real for me. every second.

please don't say anything to my mother.

we can't fix it if you don't tell me what happened.

i'll call you when i can stand the sight of you. don't hold your breath.

hiding the truth is still lying.

i thought you'd finally trust me if you knew i'd kill for you.

i'm just as much of a monster as you are.

i was missing part of myself my whole life, until i met you.

righteous fury leaves no space for fear.

you can always talk to me. about anything, okay? i love you no matter what.

you played [game] in school, didn't you?

no one tolerates boredom worse than the idle rich.

someone needs to be looking after you.

you know you can't actually stop me, right?

i want to be able to look at you.

when you need to, you will understand.

i'm only ever early when i'm afraid.

people talk themselves into the strangest things when they want to look impressive.

in the end, there's no difference between trusting someone and underestimating them.

[loathsome-little-creature]

I have lately noticed, along with many of my friends from Palestine, that much of the support that the people of Gaza rely on to survive has been disappearing. It started pretty slowly a few months ago but at this point donations have slowed to a trickle for most of the Gazans I’ve talked to.

I can sort of understand that people are burnt out and out of money. I am most certainly both of those things too, but I really don’t see how that counts as an excuse to stop doing your best to help the people of Palestine.

When Hani Yasser reached out to me, he wasn’t even asking for donations, he just wanted someone to talk to. He just wanted to know that there was someone out there who still cared. I was a little surprised, honestly. I mean, folks on this website talk a lot about how much they care about the Palestinian cause, right? Lots of talk about how horrible the colonial entity of Israel is, lots of talk about war crimes, that kind of thing. Has it come to a point where the geopolitics matter more to people than the human suffering of the Palestinians? Have a people become nothing more than a cause in the eyes of the world?

I really don’t have answers. I don’t speak for anyone but myself, and I really don’t know enough to say with confidence what is causing support to die out like this. Please don’t leave the people of Palestine behind.

Hani and his family deserve better than to be ignored. They deserve better than to endure the worst that war has to offer alone. I don’t know what I have to do to convince you to help. Just please do.

@variantsofblue @murderbot @dlxxv-vetted-donations @sayruq @a-shade-of-blue @90-ghost @opencommunion @commissions4aid-international @palhelp @appsa

[yourwhumppromptoftheday]

Hello! My whumper is a demon king named castor, and my whumpee is named Quinn, although they aren’t truly mine so I won’t be doing the whumpee part

1. Acquiring whumpee-oh, it was quite easy. I put a tracker on a rebel and watched them go to their little base. We had a little raid, and I took them.

2. Choosing whumpee-It was clear they were the leader. Everyone panicked when I grabbed them, so I knew they were valuable.

3. Keeping whumpee-I know that they’re strong, and I can use that. I give them freedom but I can’t let them go until they tell me where my son is. I must find him.

4. Legality-Ahahhhaa! I make the laws, I can’t break them. The authorities have no right to stop me. If you’re concerned, however, section 3 paragraph 24 clause eight says that rebels do not have the right to try and stop any punishment. I’m fine

5. Open-ness-Well, I don’t parade them around, but a few of my advisors know that they exist.

6. Quinn has a very comfortable room in the castle, they’ve progressed enough to move out the cell. Even if the room locks on the outside

7. The entire castle is my “workplace” but I don’t bring them to most important decisions.

8. Quinn is quite confusing. They’re a rebel, and a terrible liar.

9. While I certainly don’t think of Quinn that way..their hair is nice. If I were ever going to kill them, I’d scalp them and keep it as a wig.

10. Quinn is mostly obedient, and they’ve come a long way. They used to spit on me and just spout insults all day.

11. I don’t have many rules. Dont leave, dont attack the guards, and dont roam without Alex, me, or a guard.

12. Oh, I bring out the good-ol whip. Always works.

13. I’ve tortured many people before. I won’t say that I’ve tortured Quinn. I’m just conditioning them. With others, I don’t let them rest. I’m being quite nice to Quinn here, they haven’t gotten their limbs removed in weeks!

14. Oh, I’d have to say I love skinning. My healer, Alex, is wonderful at fastly healing someone so I can do it all over again! It’s quite effective.

15. Quinns treats is being able to see their family, having a beautiful room, and being let outside. They’ve behaved enough to deserve these:

16. Possessive? I don’t care. Although I wouldn’t like anyone trying to take them..

17. A few pathetic escape attempts were made when they first got here. You know, darting through doors and sprinting down halls. I just drag them back.

18. Oh, when I got their family involved they certainly broke. They pretended to not care until I brought their little brother up. Oh, how they cried!

19. Their mine now. My soldier. They don’t belong to anyone else.

20. They can move about the castle and very soon, outside, as long as they have a chaperone.

21. Of course I’m doing the right thing! They’re a fucking rebel, what am I supposed to do, give them a cookie? I’ve never felt remorse.

22. I’d have them executed.

23. Alex, my medic, checks up on Quinn often. Healthy as a horse.

24. You have to find out what they care about. What they love. Then you exploit that.

25. I’ve certainly helped them learn that nobody is on their side. Nobody has tried to save them, and I make sure to let them know.

26. My guards are allowed to handle Quinn, and so is Alex. That’s about it.

27. Well, of course I allow them to talk. It helps me get information. Anyone can talk to them.

28. Boundaries are for nerds.

29. I’ve only known of Quinn through rumors before I got them.

30. Quinn gets quite good meals. When they first came here, I did “starve” them, but I never actually do it. I need them in top shape. I only give them the sensation of starving. It wasn’t effective, so I stopped.

31. I use them for information. As the rebel leader, they are also quite effective propaganda.

32. My ownership of Quinn shows the rebels that nobody is safe. That I am coming.

33. I don’t feel anything when I hurt Quinn. I get satisfaction when they tell me what I need to know, and that’s it.

34. Skip!

35. I used to have to restrain them as they got quite violent, but I don’t anymore. Locking them up in a room is enough. They do try and kill themself, but it’s not often enough I have to worry.

36. They’re just..so stubborn. Thats one thing I’ve tried to beat out of them.

37. They wear whatever’s in their wardrobe. I don’t stock it, I don’t know or care.

38. I have nothing to be punished for. I will remain as I am for centuries to come.

39. I believe in me. I am a god.

40. People don’t usually say anything about Quinn. I asked Alex and she said “..Quinn’s nice.” So, vague much?

41. I don’t use a collar. My command is enough to keep them “leashed”

42. No, they aren’t marked. They don’t have to be.

43. Release them? Hell no! They’ll run right back to their rebels with dozens of secrets.

44. Whenever I appear with them, I keep a firm grasp on them. Their propaganda; like I said.

45. I’ve sedated them when I needed to move them or if they need to calm down. I’ve drugged them to have horrible nightmares, because those will become reality if they don’t listen to what I say.

46. I’ve certainly never seen anyone try and rescue them. Or if they did, it was a pathetic enough attempt I never noticed them.

47. I put a roof over their head. I give them clothes, a comfy bed, luxury food, books to read.

48. Hm. I can’t say I remember doing it, but I probably have.

49. Only if it’s important, okay?

50. Haha! You can try but you’ll lose a few fingers

💫Whump ask game!💫

🔸Most suitable for non-BBU pet whump but can be used for whatever

🔸Anyone can use and reblog, nsfwhumpers included :)

🔸We're bringing tumblr ask culture back and ensuring no one is left excluded - sending an ask to the blog y'all reblogged it from is highly encouraged! I'll send an ask too! :)

🔸A little inspired by a wonderful ask post I wasn't able to reblog or visit that person's tumblr. Y'all hear me out. No block can stop me from playing whump ask games.

🔥For Whumper🔥

1) How did you acquire your whumpee? How hard it was?

2) From all the possibilities, why did you pick your whumpee rather than anyone else?

3) Why do you keep your whumpee captive? Why won't you let them go?

4) Is everything you do to your whumpee legal? Do you have to hide it from the authorities?

5) How open are you about keeping your whumpee?

6) Where does your whumpee live?

7) Do you bring your whumpee to your workplace? How about bringing them to your social activities?

8) How would you describe your whumpee?

9) Tell me about your whumpee's prettiest features!

10) How does your whumpee behave around you? How much did it change from the moment of capture?

11) What rules do you have for your whumpee?

12) What do you do if your whumpee misbehaves?

13) Have you ever tortured anyone aside from your whumpee? If so, what's the difference between your torture techniques for your whumpee and for others?

14) Your favorite torture method?

15) Do you give your whumpee any gifts, rewards or treats? If so, what are they? If you don't, why?

16) How possessive you are about your whumpee?

17) Has your whumpee ever tried to run away from you? What would you do/have done in that case?

18) Did you finally break your whumpee? How hard it is/was?

19) Does your whumpee fully belong to you? If not, why?

20) Is your whumpee allowed to move freely? How much?

21) Do you believe you're doing the right thing? Have you ever felt guilty about what you do to your whumpee?

22) What would you do if someone tried to take your whumpee from you?

23) Does your whumpee receive any medical care or health checks? If so, where?

24) Any advice on brainwashing or conditioning?

25) Have you made your whumpee learn something aside from rules and behavior lessons?

26) Do your friends/teammates/coworkers help you to tame your whumpee? Do you allow anyone to handle them?

27) Do you allow anyone else to talk to your whumpee?

28) Do you respect your whumpee's boundaries?

29) Did you know your whumpee before capturing them?

30) How often do you feed your whumpee? Have you ever used food as punishment?

31) What do you use your whumpee for?

32) Does your ownership of whumpee mean anything symbolic for you? Do you make any sort of statement by keeping them?

33) How would you describe the feelings you ger from owning/hurting your whumpee?

34) Have you trained your whumpee to obey your commands? How so?

35) Do you need to restrain your whumpee often? How and why so?

36) What do you dislike about your whumpee?

37) Do you decide on your whumpee's clothes? If so, what do you usually make them wear?

38) Do you ever believe you could be punished for your deeds, whether in your lifetime or after?

39) Could you tell me a bit about your values? How would you describe what you believe in?

40) What do other people usually say about your whumpee?

41) Do you use a collar or a leash on your whumpee? Do they have to wear it everyday, or only on special occasions?

42) Is your whumpee marked as your captive/possession in any way? How so?

43) Have you ever considered returning or releasing your whumpee?

44) Do you ever appear with your whumpee in public? If so, how do you make sure they won't run away?

45) Have you ever drugged or sedated your whumpee? Why?

46) Has anyone ever tried to search for your whumpee or rescue them? How do you prevent them from succeeding?

47) Which aspects of comfort do you allow your whumpee to have, if you do so?

48) Do you ever discipline/torture your whumpee when they didn't do anything wrong? For maintenance, for showing off, just because you felt like it?

49) Would you mind me to see your whumpee? Could you bring or call them to come here?

50) Your whumpee is so pretty! Can i pet them? Please :)

🌼For Whumpee🌼

1) When did you meet your whumper for the first time? How was it like?

2) What were you doing before capture? What could you tell about your life back then?

3) How were you captured?

4) Were you taken specifically for whumper from the start, or there was another reason at first?

5) Have you ever been interrogated? For what reason? Were you tortured there?

6) Do your friends or family know you're here? Do you think they miss you?

7) Have you ever planned your escape? If so, do you think it's gonna work? (We won't tell anyone)

8) How would you describe your whumper?

9) How strict your whumper has been with you?

10) At which points are you most scared of your whumper?

11) What are your thoughts on why is your whumper keeping you there?

12) Which of your whumper's rules you find harder to obey?

13) How much time are you forced to spend by your whumper's side?

14) Do you think anyone would be able to find or rescue you?

15) Have you ever tried asking anyone for help? If so, how did they react?

16) Do you hide from your whumper? Does it help? How long it takes for them to find you?

17) How often do you fight or resist your whumper? How do they react?

18) Does your whumper make you sleep in their bed?

19) Does your whumper take you outside? For walks, for any interesting places, for visiting their friends?

20) Do you have a comfort thing to feel better/safer? Does your whumper know about it?

21) Does your whumper provide you with any things of entertainment to do in your spare time?

22) Does your whumper try to brainwash you?

23) Do you have anyone to talk to aside from your whumper?

24) How often does your whumper punish you? Why?

25) Which punishment method do you hate the most?

26) Do you like it when your whumper holds or touches you? How often would they do that?

27) Has your whumper ever made you wear something you hate?

28) What do you prefer to do to comfort yourself when you've been hurt or feeling sad?

29) Do you remember how long you've been captive?

30) Does your whumper use any pet names for you? What are their favorite? Do you like them as well?

31) How much privacy do you have?

32) Where do you feel safer - with lots of people in the room or with your whumper alone?

33) How do your whumper's friends/coworkers treat you? Do they pay attention to you?

34) Did your whumper ever threaten to hurt your family or friends? Have they actually done that?

35) If you were given an opportunity to escape, what would you do? Where would you run to?

36) What does your whumper usually force you to do? Which of these things do you hate the most?

37) How often do you get sick? Do you get someone to take care of you in that case?

38) Have you ever been afraid to fall asleep? Why so?

39) What does your whumper usually say to you? Does he give more threats or compliments?

40) Does your whumper listen to your pleads, complaints or requests? What would you never ask them for even if you absolutely needed?

41) How does your whumper usually act around his friends or coworkers? Does he try to be a good person for them?

42) How much do you miss your past life, if you do so? Which aspects of it do you miss the most?

43) Are you afraid to die?

44) If you knew you'd end up like that, what would you do differently in your life?

45) Is there anything you said or did that could've led to your capture? If so, do you regret it?

46) If you could become an animal, which one would you choose? Why?

47) How much have you changed since the first day in captivity?

48) Do you have any plans or hopes for the future now?

49) Tell everything you've ever wanted to say to your whumper (we won't tell anyone!)

50) Share one of your happiest moment of freedom for us!

[obsidianpen]

Tell me Tom is bad at feelings without telling me.... Loved your new B&G chapter, kinda knew that we'd have to see the Dark Lord version of Tommy sometime soon, but didn't think it would be THAT soon. I want my fluff back.

Anywho - kinda funny that he's all in Hermione's face about being her 'Master' when he's quite literally a slave to that WAP. I think Hermione needs to put him in his place ASAP. Here's hoping that whatever they see in the vision really shows just how 'worthy' she is of being his equal.

I am also honestly jealous of all the people that are able to fantasise about the ending - I honestly have no idea and I'm loving it.

My only (silly) question is - will the lines ever stop spreading? It's clear that they are literally everywhere (thanks Tom), but surely they are running out of space to spread?

Also - the hand shaped mark on Tom's chest that Hermione did - are they somehow connected? Sorry I know that's 2 question.

Feel free to ignore them if they are too spoilery! x0x0x

okay I’m glad someone else sees this too haha! Yeah, so not to get to into revealing toms inner turmoil (if you don’t like knowing what’s going on in his head stop reading this),

but I’m totally about to ramble big time because I think a lot of people are missing this. Lots of comments like ‘he’s such an asshole!! How dare he!!!’ Well. Toms definitely spinning. And can you blame the guy? He went from getting a bouquet of symbolic wildflowers from hermione that was even sweeter than she realized (he often gave flowers to his clients as a shop boy, and he even stole some for her accidentally - never imagined once in his life that he’d ever get any - yes because he’s a guy but also because he has a lot of hang ups, he is not used to gifts, he gives things to manipulate and he takes the things he wants), and after deciphering all that realizing (even if he wouldn’t say as much) that he’s fucking down so bad for this witch, fully enamored, must keep. And THEN she’s sick and THEN she doesn’t take his nice ‘take a nap, love’ potion and THEN she gets kidnapped by Dumbledore and the freaking MACUSA and THEN he’s pleading with freaking Hepzibah like some lovesick peasant for help and THEN, when he’s knee deep in imperious curses and dark marks and internationally kidnapping metamorphagi bartenders, THEN, while retrieving her wand from the Ministry despite how tricky that is (like a true gentleman)… he finds out this bitch stole his ring. Which means she knew about his horcrux (well it was horcruxes but he didn’t know that then poor lamb) and in his mind, the only reason anyone would go after a horcrux would be to destroy it. Tom had to process a lot, still had to save her because he can’t have this seer who knows all about him in Dumbledore’s clutches, had to short term delude himself into pretending everything is totally fine until he gets her out, that whole grand escape thing happens, and THEN she wants to give him a blowjob??? Which he’s never trusted anyone to do, let alone this witch he’s obsessed with who destroyed his SOUL??? Who at this point he thinks is a world class psychopath, btw - but he lets it happen because even in his most crazed moments, he’s actually exactly what you said. And he knows it deep down, but can’t accept it, so yeah, he’s doing the whole ‘have to reassert my dark lord dominance’ thing, and while a lot of people reading seemed really hung up on him being a manipulative asshole (rightfully so, this is him), there was also a lot of pretty blatant worship in that chapter too (and in case this has also escaped the general notice, Tom is actually obsessed with pleasing her)

[pootimedes]

dude i had a dream that we got another portal game where wheatley comes crashing back down to earth and somehow both him and chell end up in another dysfunctional science facility run by an angry robot, who went mad after a lack of proper maintenance and now runs the facility almost as bad as wheatley ran aperture, that they have to escape. chell fends up finding a very damaged wheatley, barely alive in a room full full of the facility's reject cores. chell uploads wheatley's consciousness to the body of an unprogrammed core, and they set off. during the whole thing, wheatley keeps trying to make it very clear that he's sorry for what happened, and does everything in his power to help chell out.

in the boss fight with the big guy, we see that he has he has somewhat of a humanoid frame, connected to the ceiling by the back with a bunch of wires and circuitry, and is red with rust, from living isolated from the rest of the facility, simply because the task of tending to him was too dangerous of a job for anyone, and the very few staff still alive in the facility had no idea how to shut him down.

his attacks were mostly melee in the first to second wave, utilizing a giant claw hand at chell, which would either try to crush chell by slamming it down from above her, swinging it at her from the side, or try to grab her by the head to crush her.

he would only use one ranged attack in the first to second wave, which were homing missiles that you had to throw back at him. think undertale mad dummy but 3d (you don't get a portal gun so there are some different mechanics, not really "portal" is it then?)

the third and final wave would add electric shock type attacks, big guy weaponizing his own decaying body in a pitiful attempt to take chell down. also lazers. lots of lazers.

chell would do the usual 'throwing the bosses projectiles back at them', while wheatley messes with big guy's controls while he's out to try and weaken him, accidentally making him stronger after the second time big guy gets knocked out.

if you manage to survive the last wave and take him out, big guy explodes, and an ominous 60 second timer comes on the intercom, along the lines of "central core discone-(garbled)-truct initiated in 60.. 59.. 58.." giving you just enough time to grab wheatley before the timer ends, which gives you an option between two endings.

if you chose to use the time to grab wheatley before making a break for it, the counter will end only a few seconds after you make it to him, and you get a sick ass parkour sequence with the facility crumbling and burning behind you as you make a break for the emergency escape pods. once you make it to the end, you get a cutscene of wheatley and chell riding the escape pod to the surface, having a bit of a heart to heart moment with wheatley, him thanking chell for not being mad with him, even if chell doesn't talk. well, you get the option to, by pressing space, (getting you an achievement called "it can talk!?")a little callback to the beginning of portal 2. you reach the surface, getting you the "forgiveness" achievent, and the game ends. congratulations on your marrige, chell

if you choose to leave without him, you can hear him worriedly saying things along the lines of "what are you doing? where are going?" before realizing you're leaving him behind and starts panicking. as the door to the escape pod closes, you get an achievement called "coward's way out" as you hear a distant "don't leave me, DON'T LEAVE ME!" further guilting you for being a greedy achievement hunter, you monster. In the escape pod, you get a whole minute of of uninterrupted silence before arriving at the surface, earning you the "you know what you are? selfish." achievement, before ending the game.

there would also be a shadow achievement where you do absolutely nothing and wait for the self destruct counter to finish, killing the both of you.

ok, most of this wasn't in the dream, i just started getting ideas

(edit: i just had the idea that chell was in a similar kind of situation to ratman, where she was an employee at this facility, working in robotics when uh oh spaghettios all her coworkers are dead and she's stuck in hiding from the giant robot running the facility)

[sonics-atelier]

𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 !

For @lucienweekofficial Day 7 : AU

AN : Was going through my wips and found this which was perfect for AU day. Princess Diaries + Elucien = Perfection. Have fun reading <3 WC : 720. Read Below or on Ao3

The sun was setting over the Summer Court, casting a warm golden hue across the lush gardens. The soft murmur of a nearby fountain filled the air as Elain and Lucien strolled together, their steps slow and unhurried. The day had been long, filled with endless meetings and discussions about court alliances, and both were eager for a bit of playful escape.

Elain twirled her delicate lace fan in one hand, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she glanced at Lucien. He caught her look and raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching upward in a smirk.

“What’s that look for?” Lucien asked, his tone teasing.

Elain’s smile widened. “Just thinking about how much I loathe you,” she said dramatically, her voice dripping with mock disdain.

Lucien placed a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. “You loathe me? That’s funny, because I was just about to say the same thing to you.” He leaned in closer, his grin widening. “I loathe you too, Elain.”

She let out a gasp, raising her fan to swat him on the arm. “How dare you! You infuriate me more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Lucien chuckled, catching her wrist gently before she could swat him again. “Likewise. You’re impossible, Elain.”

Their eyes met, the playful banter crackling like electricity between them. There was something intoxicating in the way they sparred with words, both knowing full well that there was no real malice behind their teasing. It was a game they both enjoyed far too much.

“Oh, really?” Elain challenged, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “You loathe me that much?”

Lucien’s gaze darkened, his grip on her wrist tightening slightly as he pulled her closer. “More than you can imagine.”

Without warning, Lucien’s gaze dropped to her lips, and in that instant, Elain’s breath hitched. The tension between them snapped, and in the next breath, Lucien’s lips crashed against hers.

Their lips met in a heated, desperate kiss, the kind that spoke of months of unspoken feelings, of a bond neither of them fully understood but could no longer deny. It was wild, fierce, and utterly consuming. Elain’s fan slipped from her hand, forgotten as she tangled her fingers in Lucien’s hair, pulling him closer.

They stumbled backward, neither paying attention to their surroundings until they collided with the edge of the fountain. With a surprised yelp, they both toppled over, falling into the cool water with a splash.

For a moment, they were both stunned, sitting in the shallow fountain, drenched from head to toe. Then, as the shock wore off, Elain burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the garden. Lucien joined in, the rich sound of his laughter blending with hers, their earlier playful tension dissolving into pure joy.

“You… you really are impossible,” Lucien managed between laughs, his hands still holding onto her waist as they sat in the water.

Elain leaned her forehead against his, her laughter softening into a warm smile. “And you’re infuriating,” she murmured, her eyes shining with affection.

He brushed a wet strand of hair from her face, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. “Maybe, but I think you might just like that about me.”

Elain pretended to think about it, then nodded with a grin. “Maybe I do.”

Lucien smiled, leaning in to kiss her again, this time softer, more tender. The water rippled around them, but neither cared. The world outside their little fountain seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them, tangled together in a perfect moment of playful romance.

Eventually, they pulled apart, breathless and still smiling. Lucien helped Elain to her feet, both of them dripping wet and looking thoroughly disheveled. But neither minded. If anything, the unexpected dip had only added to the delight of the evening.

“Shall we call a truce?” Lucien asked, offering his arm.

Elain looped her arm through his, her smile still wide. “For now. But don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you for all your infuriating ways.”

Lucien chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple as they began walking back to the manor. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they walked away from the fountain, their laughter still lingering in the air, Elain couldn’t help but think that perhaps there was nothing quite as wonderful as loving—and loathing—Lucien Vanserra.

- @sonics-atelier 2024 ( do not repost or reuse in any way, shape or form )

Dividers by @cafekitsune <3

[bcolfanfic]

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” “It’s ok. We’ll figure it out - together.”

i lowkey wanna request this w one of the uncles and the yv kids 🥹 torn between sawyer and gale anddddd meadow and john so u pick!

surprise i split the prompt and did both!

uncle buck and sawyer blakely <3

"Sawyer, hey what’s wrong?" Gale asked gently, the twelve-year-old swiping at his nose with his sleeve as he sniffled. He'd slipped his shoes off since the last time Gale had looked over at him as he was helping Blakely get their stuff packed into the car, knees drawn up to his chest.

"Don’t wanna go home," He said, voice wobbly. "I don’t- don’t have friends at school, and I like it when we’re all here because then I do have friends," Sawyer continued, picking at a thread on his jeans.

Gale's heart twisted in his chest. He'd believed Blakely and Helen when they said this past week in Wyoming was the least wound up they'd seen Sawyer in a while. He wasn't as rambunctious as the others had figured out they had the space to be running around the Bucks property causing trouble. But he was content to play Animal Crossing in the basement with Micah, and was chattier at dinner with anyone than Gale remembered him being when he'd seen him a little over a year ago.

"You’re still gonna see most of ‘em at home bud, the only ones that don’t live there are our crew." Gale said as he sat down next to him. "And we’re gonna be in New York to visit in a couple months,"

Sawyer only huffed, resting his chin on his knees.

"’s not the same." He said into the material of his jeans, punctuated by a hiccup. "Don’t know what’s wrong with me, I try to talk to people- but nobody wants to talk to me, they just don’t like me,"

Sawyer's breath hitched and Gale felt his throat tighten, ducking his head down for a second to compose himself. It wasn't new information- he'd heard bits and pieces of it from Blakely. But it wasn't issue he'd had with Josie or Micah- and he found himself wishing he had a better sense of how to navigate it.

Wringing his hands, Sawyer looked at Gale expectantly.

"There's nothing wrong with you bud," He said after a moment, reaching a hand for the back of his shoulder, feeling the tremble in it still under the press of his palm. "You're a great kid- gonna find your people who see that- just gotta give it time,"

Sawyer took a shaky inhale and a few more tears escaped on the exhale, chin wobbling as he budged closer into Gale, hiccupping until he was positioned to let out a little sob into his neck.

"I know, you're okay," Gale murmured, trying to fish his phone out of his pocket without jostling the boy too much.

To: John ❤️

Can u tell Helen to come back in the house? Sawyer is a little upset about leaving.

-

uncle bucky and meadow biddick <3

Every second since Micah had come flying down the stairs a few hours ago screeching that Meadow was pregnant- that JJ had gotten her pregnant, had felt like some sort of fever dream. A fever dream John was only halfway jostled out of when his phone rang just as he was about to brush his teeth, the twenty-two-year old's caller ID flashing across the screen.

"That Meadow?" Gale said when he saw how John was looking at his phone from the doorway, John giving a little nod as he picked up the call, walking out of the bathroom to sink down into bed.

"Hey Mead," He started, soft. He could hear her breathing- and sniffling, on the other end.

"Have you talked to my dad?" She asked when she found her words.

"No, kiddo," he answered softly, absently rubbing the edge of his phone case with this thumb. "But Micah kind of told me what’s going on."

The line was quiet for a moment, Meadow's voice cracking a little when she spoke up.

"I don’t think he loves me anymore," She said, John's chest and his grip on his phone tightening.

He knew that wasn't true- would never be true no matter what she did. But from the bits and pieces he'd heard from Josie and Micah about how things had gone at the Crosbys, he almost couldn't blame her for being so wound up.

"No, hey- no, that’s not true at all," John said, tone a little firmer. "I haven’t talked to him yet, but I don’t need to to tell you that much."

"But he’s so mad," She said as her voice shook. "You weren’t there- I thought he was gonna kick me out till Jeanie said I could spend the night with them and he got all mad at her too."

John dropped his head back against the headboard, holding back a dry laugh when he saw the concerned look Gale threw him from where he was getting undressed.

"I'm gonna wring Curt's neck." He mouthed across the room at him before he went back to trying to think of something to say to Meadow that might actually be helpful.

"I’ve seen your dad mad a lotta’ times in my life,” He tried. “And he's got a cooler head in there somewhere, just takes some time for it to prevail."

"How much time?" she cut in before he'd fully finished his sentence. "He won’t even listen to daddy- I heard them arguing ‘cause he told him to calm down- he hates me."

John heard her breath hitch on the end and felt a lump forming in his throat as he listened to her resolve crumble. She tried to catch her breath to little avail, a sob escaping between sniffles.

"It’s okay, Mead," John said, gentle- and wishing Wyoming was a closer hop and skip from New York. "Don’t gotta cry, you're breakin’ my heart sweetie. I promise he doesn’t hate you- swear it on my life."

Meadow’s shaky inhale was enough to tell him she didn’t believe a word of that. But she managed to get herself calmed down at least- he imagined somewhat due to her sister coming in, Bry's voice entering faintly into the background.

"We’re gonna figure this out together- but you should try to get some sleep first, 'kay?' he said when he heard Bry pause, tapping his fingers against the back of his phone case.

"'Kay, Uncle Bucky."

Her voice was still wobbly, but she wasn't hyperventilating anymore and that was enough for him to feel okay about passing things over to her sister. He let out a sigh when he hung up, his phone buzzing a few seconds later.

curt biddick

Was Meadow on the phone with you just now?

John rubbed a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with an exhale before he went to respond.

john egan

Go tell your kid you still love her. Was breaking my heart listening to her cry like that.

Read 11:57pm

The blue bubble indicating Curt was typing blinked for a second before it disappeared and didn't return. John chewed on the inside of his cheek, annoyed at the stubbornness he in most ways felt he'd grown more acclimated to than anyone.

He gave it five minutes before shooting off another text.

john egan

I get it man, I do. But if you’re not gonna let her stay with the Crosbys you need to make her staying with her dads feel like a good thing. Flipping out isn't helping unless you want her running off to JJ once you're asleep.

The bubble blinked again- and a response followed it this time.

curt biddick

Got it. Thx.

[anna-pineappel]

Head-canons!

Head-canons!

Head-canons!

Buckle up, I have quite a few headcanons for Hogan’s Heroes and the characters! I also have some Klogan-ship specific headcanons but I’ll focus on the characters. I’m also going to follow @frau-wilhelm-klink’s format. This gets long, sorry not sorry!

I also have specific head-canons for my fics, especially my long ones since there’s a lot happening and it’s too easy to derail and I need something to keep me on track! 😅 I could easily make separate posts for Walk Through Fire and Peace in the Moonlight (including its Prequel, which is now titled Terror in the Shadows)

General:

Either Klink/Burkhalter is Nimrod - it fluctuates depending on the Plot of a fic I’m writing. But I can see arguments of either or. (Why Burkhalter keeps Klink in his post, why he lets Hogan stick around in Klink’s office when he comes around. Why Klink tolerates Hogan’s antics, why he’s so high strung).

The Germans spoke German a lot more (obviously the show was in English for an English-speaking audience). However, Klink and Schultz would often speak English for Hogan and his men’s sake. Hogan and the gang all understand German in varying degrees but are fairly fluent in it.

The POWs definitely formed a found-family situation at Stalag 13. They all need each other and even though a horrible thing brought them together, they wouldn’t have it any other way. Klink and Schultz somehow became part of the found family too. (They are like that uncle that you’re not quite sure about, but turn out to be pretty cool and let you drink beer behind your parents’ backs).

The Germans (the Main 4):

Klink (trying to stay human in an inhumane business):

Is not the complete dummkopf that everyone makes him out to be. If he’s Nimrod, he’s just anxious about anyone else finding out. Burkhalter and Hochstetter also drive him crazy and he just wants to get through the war without freezing to death on the Russian Front.

When passionate/angry, Klink doesn’t remember the English language. Any yelling that happens is most definitely in German. Also, he can get incredibly angry/intimidating when he absolutely needs to.

Feels protective over his prisoners. He has a sense of duty and frankly, doesn’t care for the Nazi’s ideology. He’s grown fond of Hogan (especially; whether platonically or romantically) and his men and wants to makes sure they live through the war.

Schultz (Gentle Giant Teddy Bear):

Got caught up in the Draft, is definitely not a Nazi, nor does he believe in the Regime. Holds a grudge for having his toy factory repossessed for the war effort. Also can’t stand all the violence/fighting that comes with the War and just wants it over.

He knows about Hogan’s men and their operation but since he opposes the Nazi Regime, he implements his ‘I know nothing, I see nothing!’ Policy and plays the fool, but often helps out in any way he can.

He and Klink are actually good friends, bonding over their hatred for the war and what has become of Germany. Klink acts tough towards Schultz but deep down, has a soft spot for him, keeping him in his post.

Burkhalter (Has no time for nonsense and will sass you):

Is 110% done with everyone and their bullshit, especially Hochstetter. He has his own agenda (whether as Nimrod or as a General), and is tired of everyone else getting in his way. He doesn’t necessarily care about people or things; that would get in the way of his Strategy.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t completely hate Klink. He’s also feeling pressure from his superiors and since Stalag 13 is a Model Prison Camp with Zero Escapes, there’s a spot-light on it and Klink. He genuinely wonders how Klink does it.

He is also… fascinated by Hogan (in a ideology/military strategy way). All he knows of America is what the Regime has told him, which is all propaganda bullshit, so he’s genuinely intrigued by Hogan and his homeland.

Hochstetter (my angry smol bean man; I’m deep into this man rn for my WIP):

Definitely has an unhealthy obsession with Hogan (to the point that it is homoerotic in a way/may be due to internalized homophobia) and is desperate to prove that he is the Underground agent Papa Bear to his superiors, who may be getting to the point of dismissing the theory since there’s no evidence.

Like Klink and Burkhalter, he is feeling the pressure from his superiors to prove that Hogan is Papa Bear, and that is why he is wound tighter than a ball of yarn. He usually is a great detective, but is letting his skills/other cases slide with his Hogan Obsession™️

Is insanely jealous of Klink for having Hogan in his custody. A man as dangerous as he claims Hogan to be should be handed over to Gestapo for questioning. Why does KLINK, of all people, get to have Papa Bear?! He also questions if there’s something going on between Klink and Hogan, but like his case for Papa Bear, he has no proof.

The POWs:

Hogan (military mastermind with a mouth that won’t shut up):

Would sacrifice himself in a heartbeat if it meant his men (and Klink and Schultz) would be safe, a bit of a martyr. He sees himself as a father/big brother figure to his men and loves them as if there his own family. He also gets fed up with them, like they’re his own family.

Can sometimes let his emotions get the better of him, and explains why he sometimes seems to be flying off the handle. Seriously, without Kinch to hold him back, Hogan is bit unhinged.

Has gotten roughed up by the Germans (the SS/Gestapo) at least once, and holds a personal grudge against the Nazi Regime. He has his own mental blocks, but his motives are to make sure no one goes through what he did.

(Bonus): Has a certain level of respect for Klink and genuinely thinks they could be friends or more after the war. He loves his men, but enjoys the company of another officer from time to time.

Kinch (Holder of the Brain Cell):

Is the gang’s rationalized thinking. He questions the sanity of himself and those around him on a daily basis, and wonders what he did to be surrounded by these maniacs (that he loves).

With his race, he, along with Hogan, knows how horrible people like the Nazis can be. He would like to go unhinged like many (especially Hogan, Newkirk and Carter), but he takes the high road, to not feed into horrific stereotypes.

Often had to prove himself to others, but not with Hogan. Hogan knew Kinch was brilliant with technology and doesn’t see race, and Kinch appreciates being treated like anyone else.

Newkirk (Lovable Bastard):

He’s been at Stalag 13 the longest, which makes sense given that England/France/Canada joined the war years before the United States. Next of the core gang for longest time at Stalag 13 is Hogan, so the two have a bond over that.

Has a (petty) criminal past, which explains the lock-picking/pick pocking skills. Forced to join the military as an alternative to jail time and he was told he could kill as many Nazis as he’d like. He gladly accepted since… yeah, Nazis suck.

Bonded well with Carter since they both have a love for mayhem and destruction. He only picks on Carter because he is teasing, but knows to stop when he really strikes a chord. Carter brings out a sensitive side to Newkirk that he wouldn’t admit to the others.

Carter (Pyromaniac with a Heart of Gold):

Is neurodivergent (whether it’s on the autism spectrum, ADHD, or a little bit of both), and is happy to be be included, and accepted in the gang, even if he doesn’t understand all the social conventions. He seems a bit dim/naive, but in fact, is one of the smartest people of the bunch.

Has special interests with chemistry and explosions, which is why he can ramble on and on about them. He gets dejected when the rest of the gang dismisses him, but often, Newkirk or Hogan come to him later and let him ramble and show an interest.

Has a close bond with both Hogan and Newkirk, he sees Hogan as an older brother and often forgets they are in the military together. Explains why he often calls him boy vs. Sir because he just… feels like family.

LeBeau (Resident Short King):

Like Hogan, has a personal grudge with the Nazis since they did occupy France after all. He might have also had a run in with the SS/Gestapo, which Hogan knows about. It took him a long time to come around to Klink not being a bad guy; he was instant friends with Schultz after the first batch of strudel.

His one pet peeve with the rest of the guys is that none of them really bothered to learn French. So whenever he’s mad, he just starts muttering in French under his breath and shaking his head. Oddly enough, he found out Klink speaks fluent French and the two of them would often talk in French, much to Hogan’s frustrations (of not understanding what the hell they are talking about).

Has aspirations to be a chef, and maybe was one before the war/occupation. He takes a great joy in cooking which is why he doesn’t mind cooking if Hogan/Klink ask him too. He would rather not cook for Nazi-scum, but he knows that Hogan (and to a lesser extent, Klink) have ulterior motives.

What are your top 3 headcanons for Hogan's Heroes in general?

What are your top 3 headcanons for each character?

[luminousjellyfishy]

Not me dreading math and science because I have tests and I didn’t study at all-

[whyrubuyingclothesatthesoupstore]

Dunking on fictional losermen is fun and all but if you make it ooc then what is even the point. Mocking qualities you just made up that have no real basis in canon is dumb. At this point just make an oc with these qualities and make fun of them instead

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.