#people who are built like this rock btw

[justlarkin]

OMG?!?! PEAK MALE FORM?!? THIS IS SO BASED.

[imagine-darksiders]

Absolute Anarchy

A Darksiders/SCP Foundation crossover nobody asked for but is here regardless.

Summary: SCP-8103. Object class; undetermined. There's a new entity at the Foundation. Four D-Class have already been supplied with weapons and pitted against it, only to be cut down before they could get more than a couple of shots in. Eager to determine which calibre of rifle can pierce its armour, they send you in next - D-1935 - to accomplish what your predecessors couldn't. It's too bad they never taught you how to actually use the rifle...

This has the vague semblance of a plot btw, but I'm trying not to be too finicky, and just to write as it comes to me, so hopefully it'll still be easy enough to follow and enjoyable at the same time.

Tw: Blood, guns, death, imprisonment, threat, violence, trapped, typical SCP violence.

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If there was ever a moment where you should have felt the stars aligning to determine the path your life might take, it would have to be the moment you decided to steal that godforsaken sports car.

It was an instance born of desperation – a tantalising lure cast by the owner of a chop-shop who made heartfelt promises to lift you out of poverty, only to throw you under the proverbial bus when the heat ventured too close to his illicit operation.

He only wanted the money from that Ferrari.

You reduced yourself to grand theft auto for a chance to escape the homeless shelter and land on your feet.

And where did you land instead?

Behind bars, that’s where. Tossed into some dingy prison that seemed only built for the sole purpose of hiding away society’s miserable, forgotten dregs.

You thought you knew what rock bottom looked like.

How were you to know the depths this pitiless world could drag you down to?

“D – One-nine-three-five!”

A strident voice bellows a set of all-too familiar numbers at what must be the top of his already bursting lungs. The door to your cell is wrenched violently open, spilling light into a room that’s a damn sight smaller and bleaker than the one they pulled you from in St Ives.

Bureaucracy had been your ultimate enemy, in the end. A signature in the wrong place, a ‘t’ dotted where it should have been crossed, and an ‘i’ absent from your paperwork had all lead you to a place you couldn’t have imagined in your most turbulent nightmares. A place that shouldn’t - and so far as the public is aware - doesn’t exist.

The SCP Foundation.

Specifically, site 12; a rancorous offshoot of what you’ve come to learn through eavesdropping and rumour, is a worldwide operation.

It turns out the people in charge here couldn’t less of give a hoot whether you’re a petty thief or a renowned and unrepentant serial killer. If your name is on their list, they won’t bother to see a difference. You’re all Disposables, in the end, and no amount of pleas for your innocence or requests for an evaluation will get you any closer to that glorious taste of freedom.

You’ll serve your time or die trying. And as of yet, you haven’t heard of anyone who’s reached the end of their ‘sentence.’

The bed springs underneath you shriek with relief as you scramble up onto your feet, nearly tripping over the long hems of your jumpsuit.

Heart thundering like a jackhammer, you cower before the imposing shape silhouetted in your doorway, warily eyeing the M9 Beretta that’s being aimed directly at your forehead.

You’d hoped that by now the guards here would have learned that you’re not a threat. Hell, it didn’t take you long to figure out that anybody even vaguely considered a troublemaker in this place will earn themselves a one-way ticket to a fate that would make you beg for a bullet between the eyes.

That first week, you ended up trying to plead your case to the wrong scientist and wound up on the bi-weekly rota to clean SCP-173’s cell. Twice.

How you got out of there with your neck facing the right way is one of life’s greatest mysteries. If it hadn’t gone for your poor cellmate first…

“You listening, Scuzz!?” The handgun jerks to the left of your doorway. “Get your ass outta that cell!”

Ah... Mullins. One of the guards assigned to your particular block.

A meaner son of a bitch, you’ve never known. Rumour has it that the towering brute used to be a D-Class, like you, but through shows of force, an unflinching disregard for his fellow man, and an uncanny ability to survive, the Lab Coats bumped him up to guard status, if for no other reason than to keep the inmates in line.

You’re loathe to admit it, but he is damn good at his job.

Ducking your head, you scurry from your bed through the open door, pressing yourself as close to the frame as possible to squeeze past the Beretta that he keeps trained on your head. You don’t even have to look at him anymore to know that there’s a wide smirk on his face when he jabs the barrel at the back of your skull, shoving you into an awkward stumble down the hallway.

“Move. Got a new assignment for you today,” he goads, falling into step behind you, his thick, rubber boots thudding purposefully on the linoleum.

In contrast, your plimsoles make rather pathetic ‘slaps’ with each, hurried step you take.

You know the drill by now. Head down. Eyes front. Mouth shut.

You’ve walked this path to the lifts a hundred times before.

It's been weeks since you stopped asking him when you can go home.

‘When you’ve served your sentence,’ became ‘When we damn well feel like it,’ became ‘You still think you’re getting out of here?’

“SCP-Eight-One-Oh-Three~,” Mullins sing-songs at your back, entirely too cheerful all of a sudden, “This one just came in. The Lab coats don’t know nothin’ about it. And guess who’s the lucky little D-Scuzz who gets to ‘further the advancement of science?”

Although your body trembles like a leaf in a hurricane, you don’t make a sound, not even when the moisture in your eyes wells up into a fat, salty teardrop and breaks over the dam of your lash line, carving a damp path down your grubby cheek.

An unknown SCP?

Your odds of making it to the end of the day in one piece have just plummeted into the single digits, and you once again find yourself asking, 'why me?'

‘We’re doing this for the good of humanity,’ one doctor with a particularly punchable face had once announced to a room full of orange-clad prisoners, and you can still remember wondering when you and your fellow inmates stopped being a part of that same Humanity this Foundation seems to keen to protect.

The cold steel of a gun jabs you again in the base of your neck, pushing a quiet sound of protest from your lips that you hurriedly clamp down on, fists balling up at your sides.

“That’s right!” Mullins continues, “Damn, you gotta be feelin’ proud as a peacock, kid. Not every day someone gets to be the first to make contact. Hell, maybe you’ll get lucky, and it’ll be a Euclid.”

The row of lifts appears as you turn the next corner and come to a stop obediently in front of the closest one, head still hanging nearly to your chest as you wait for Mullins to reach past you and jam his thumb on the ‘down’ button.

“Wouldn’t bet on it though… That thing has Keter written all over it.”

With the damning chime of a bell, the heavy, metal doors slide open, and Mullins shoves you roughly into the claustrophobic space with one fist to your spine. Jesus, trapped in this finite space with him, the smell of cheap brand cigarettes wafts from his jacket and drifts up into your nose, sitting stale and musty on the back of your tongue.

The walls are dull in here, unreflective, which you nearly count as a blessing.

It means you don’t have to see the mess you’ve become.

----

It’s only when you’re standing outside the containment cell that you realise Mullins was either lying, or just plain wrong.

You aren’t the first D-Class to make contact with this SCP.

In fact, if the stiff-faced scientist shoving a rifle into your hands is to be believed, you’re precisely the fifth.

“That,” he begins with an aloof air of bored professionalism, watching impassively while you fumble to find purchase on the heavy gun, “Is the CZ-Five-Fifty. And today, you will be testing its armour-piercing capabilities.”

‘Armour?’ you think, swallowing thickly, ‘What the Hell kind of monster have they brought into this place?’

The cold circle of steel still pressed to your shoulder blade reminds you of Mullins’s unpleasant presence.

“No funny business,” he growls, “You couldn’t get the safety off before I put you down like a lame bitch.”

Charming.

You don’t fancy telling him you couldn’t get the safety off anyway. And that it... hadn't occurred to you to even try and turn it on him and the scientist, though it probably should have been the first thing you thought of.

The weapon sits like a dead weight in your hands, heavy and fundamentally useless. You don’t know how to fire a gun, let alone one this powerful.

But the scientist doesn’t seem to know that, lazily racking off the terms of your contract and your ‘obligation’ to the Foundation.

Yes, you imagine it would get tiresome having to rehash the same speech five times in a row… Perhaps he just assumes you know how to use it?

Bastard.

Wetting your lips, you peel them apart and croak out a question, wincing at the pathetic crack in your voice, dry and reedy from disuse. “What happened to the others?”

At that, the scientist’s lips purse, and an eyelid twitches then settles.

They all hate being interrupted. Especially by a D-Class.

At least the guards acknowledge your autonomy through rage and demeaning names and acts of violence.

To the Lab Coats, you’re just cannon-fodder. Nothing. Empty vessels for them to use as they see fit.

Even so, the one in front of you straightens up and peers down the length of his nose at you, sighing as though he were trying to explain the concept of algebra to a dog. “The D-Class personnel-“ he begins, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in a scoff. ‘Personnel’ is a funny way of pronouncing ‘Prisoners.’

“-who came before, all failed their assignments.”

Behind you, Mullins pipes up with a distinguishable sneer. “Emptied their whole clips into the thing before they got turned into Swiss cheese.”

Oh… God.

“Didn’t even make a dent,” he concludes, sounding not in the least bit sad to have wasted four lives.

“Yes, well-“ the scientist clears his throat, “The first step to knowing your enemy is knowing how to kill it. And the supplied Rugers proved… ahem… inefficient. But at least we now know the three-five-seven calibre isn’t strong enough. We’re hoping the point six hundred will be.”

 “Six hundred Overkill…” Mullins whistles appreciatively. “Elephant killers.”

Your stomach twists into a tight, clenching ball. You think you might be sick if there was anything to bring up except bile.

So, this is the SCP that finally kills you.

Shit.

In a whirlwind of sudden, dizzying movements and barked orders, you’re unceremoniously surrounded by three more guards who bodily ‘escort’ you into the loading dock – an empty room set in the midway of two descending doors that are made from several feet of a solid titanium alloy. The primary door slides open with a mechanical hiss, and you’re shoved roughly into the space between it and the secondary door.

On trembling knees, you gape up at the grey metal, noting with no small degree of alarm that it’s tall and wide enough to admit the shipping container of something titanic.

Above your head on the wall, an orange light pulses as the primary door slams shut behind you, and the sound of enormous locks sliding into place fills the room. Your rifle almost slips from your grasp, leaving you to fumble for it with sweat-slicked palms.

The drawback of not being a hardened death-row inmate is that when it comes to moments of great danger, you’re inclined to neither fight nor flee.

Instead, worst of all, you’re the type to freeze solid.

Now is no exception.

As the light flashing above you turns green, signalling for the second door to ascend into its slot high in the ceiling, your spine promptly goes rigid, fingers locking up around the gun whilst your feet turn to two blocks of cement.

All of a sudden, you can’t help but let out a shriek when something flops down onto the ground on your side of the door once it’s been raised a couple of feet, and at first, you assume something is trying to crawl through the space to get at you.

Once you realise what the dark object actually is, you almost wish your initial assumption had been correct.

What lays on the ground, spread across the threshold between the dock and the cell, is a body. ‘A human body!’ your addled brain registers.

Or what’s left of a human…

Swiss cheese might not have been an exaggeration after all.

Entry and exit holes have torn the poor bastard apart from head to toe, shredding to ribbons what remains of a grubby, orange jumpsuit, much like the one you’re currently garbed in. Bones and muscle and sinew show through torn flaps of skin, and the stench of blood mingles with gun smoke, seeping into your nostrils before you can scrunch your nose up to block it out. You could have done without the acrid taste of iron resting on the back of your tongue.

‘That’s gonna happen to me,’ you gasp silently, choking on a sob, unable to tear your gaze from the body, ‘Oh god, that’ll be me in a minute!’

Jesus Christ, they hadn’t even waited for the blood to dry, the assholes!

With a ‘click’ and a ‘thud,’ the door slides gracefully to a halt, utterly and completely open, exposing you to whatever entity lays in wait beyond the threshold. The fear of what lies ahead outweighs your horror of seeing a fellow D-Class on the ground. In an instant, you wrench your eyes away from the body and gape out into the room in front of you.

Sturdy, grey walls lit by an overhead fluorescent light are a familiar view, as are the bloodstains spattered across the stone slabs.

The pockmarks littering the adjacent wall are new however, each about the size of your fist. There are hundreds of them, like someone took a gatling gun and sprayed it all over the cell. They look… far too large to have been made by any ordinary rifle…

A hard blink sends twin tracks of tears leaking down your face. The room beyond angles sharply to the left right outside the door, and it plucks at your frayed nerves to realise you can’t see what’s around the corner…

Nearby, facedown on the floor just several feet from the entrance, is the second body, a gun laying close to their side and an arm outstretched towards you, their final act in the throes of death. They must have skidded around the corner and were making for the door when they were cut down…

Despite the carnage, the cell is eerily silent, not a breath nor a shift to give away where the SCP might be.

Is it lurking just around the bend to ambush you?

Is it seconds away from tearing into the pocket of space and doing to you whatever it did to these sorry sods?

Aside from quivering fit to bust, you can’t move a muscle.

You won’t.

You won’t go in there, they can’t –!

“D-Class!”

A sharp staccato shout is thrown from a speaker in the corner of the dock, causing you to nearly leap out of your skin. But worse than your visceral flinch is the sound the voice elicits from something inside the cell.

It’s like a roll of thunder, soft then loud then soft again, a guttural growl, so rich and deep it shakes the walls and travels up through your plimsoles, undulating across each section of your spine until you can feel it hum behind your eyes.

The reverb hasn’t even faded before the same voice barks, “Proceed into the containment chamber at once.”

“To Hell with that!” you retort, feet still rooted firmly to the ground.

“You will proceed or you will be reassigned.”

It’s a threat that’s worked before.

And Hell… It works again now.

Reassignment is an absolute. A guaranteed death sentence. At least in here, even with an unknown entity, there’s a slim, albeit nearly imperceptible change of survival or at the very least, a quick death. Besides, the previous victims look well and truly dead, and that’s frankly a fate that’s a Hell of a lot better than becoming a living hive for a colony of insects or a tumour-riddled larder for giant, cave-dwelling rodents.

“D-Class. You have precisely three seconds to-“

The inescapable terror of a worse ending is your greatest motivator down here. You don’t even wait for the countdown to start.

Heaving in a wet breath, you squeeze your eyes halfway shut and yank one leg stiffly into the air, planting it forwards, once, twice, three times until you pass the body on the threshold and step out into the cell. Into the open. Like a doe entering a meadow when she damn well knows there are hunters lurking in the trees nearby.

Your eyes are still clenched almost shut when you turn yourself to the left and spot the remaining pair of bodies, one almost laying on top of the other, weapons still locked in their cold, dead hands,

Another, blood-curdling growl blasts through the air around you, sudden and violent enough to nearly send you toppling over onto your backside.

Flinging your eyes open with a gasp, you immediately wish you’d kept them closed instead. You wish the SCP had just killed you outright.

You wish you never stole that wretched car.

You were expecting big.

This SCP is bigger.

You can see why the scientists want to find a calibre that can pierce armour.

The creature that hunches before you, eating up ample space between the floor and the ceiling dozens of feet overhead, is almost solid metal from top to bottom. And armoured, you realise in horror, covering flashes of grey, scaly skin the colour of iron.

Bipedal, is the second thing you note, towering all the way to the roof on a pair of long, lithe legs, each ending in a three-toed foot with claws that remind you of some long extinct theropod.

A scrawny waist feeds into a contrarily powerful chest and monumental shoulders that are made even larger by the armoured struts encasing them.

Your eyes, wider than saucers, travel along the length of its arms – the first hanging down to its bent knee with a hand that looks large enough to wrap around your whole body and crush you between its fingers. The other arm, however, doesn’t end in a hand – clawed or otherwise.

It ends instead, from the elbow down, in a four barrelled gun the size of cannon.

And all four of those chambers are aimed directly and unwaveringly at you.

Behind the sights, several cylinders spin over one another like a minigun ramping up to fire, clanking angrily in an obvious threat.

You don’t dare pull in a breath, not when your gaze locks onto one of the chambers of the gun arm, and from somewhere deep in the pits of those long barrels, a dim, red glow sparks to life, the same light you imagine the fires of Hell would kick out if Satan ever eventually sets foot in this horrible place.

And that’s without even mentioning its other apparent weapon.

You think it must be some kind of tail, arched up and over the SCP’s head like the tail of a scorpion, swaying very gently from left to right and back again. Whip-like, it tapers to a point, and from what you can see from down here, the grey of its scales beneath the armour fades into an angry red right near the tip, glowing the same colour as the lights in the barrels of its gatling arm.

Vivid images of your body being impaled on the end of that wicked appendage flicker through your mind’s eye, and you have to drop your gaze to banish them, moving on to take in the rest of the monstrosity.

A pair of metal horns sweep forwards from the sides of an avian helm, long and sleek and ending in deadly points perfect for goring, like the tusks of an elephant. There’s a mane sprouting from its back too, a vibrant purple that stands out fiercely against the silver of its armour. Each strand of hair seems to wave and snake about through the air as if they’re alive.

And then you make the mistake of meeting its gaze.

You’ve seen SCP’s with no eyes, some with too many eyes, a few that are made up entirely of eyes and even those that have eyes in places where eyes have no business being.

These though… you don’t like these eyes at all, even despite the fact there are a regular number of them.

Gold as gleaming bullion, unnaturally bright and forward-facing, all nature’s warning signs that you’re staring up into the eyes of a predator.

Once they’ve locked you in their sights, it’s nigh on impossible to tear yourself free.

The snarling visage opens up like a steel trap, baring black fangs the size of axe heads, and a burning heat behind its jaws that rises like-

“D – One-nine-three-five!”

“Shit!” You don’t mean to yelp aloud, nor do you intend to nearly drop the gun, scrambling to secure your grip on it before it can fall from your hands. In the blink of an eye, the entity’s gigantic head swings around to hiss furiously at something you’d missed completely when you stumbled into its cell.

An observation window dominates the far wall, and behind it, several figures donned in white coats stand watching, their faces only slightly blurred behind the thick – presumably bullet-proof – glass.

Just above the window on this side of the cell, another speaker has been fitted into the wall, and from it, the same nasally voice as before barks a command.

“You are to proceed with testing the Overkill’s capabilities.”

… Are they serious?

The SCP’s tail has swung around to follow its head and aims warningly at the glass, though its weaponised arm stays fixed on you.

Your own weapon remains useless, hanging from your grasp, pointed at the ground. You can’t muster the courage to raise it.

What defence could it possibly provide? What could such a tiny rifle do, really, against a weapon that made holes that size in the concrete walls?

The scientists are insane. The lot of them...

Well, to Hell with them, and to Hell with this stupid experiment.

Still blurred over by salty tears, your eyes reluctantly trail back up to the entity’s head. If you’re to die, you want to look this thing in the eye when it kills you. You might have lived as a coward, but you’re not so eager to die as one.

You’ve been afraid to defy them for so long, terrified – paralysed by the possibility of what these people might do to you in retaliation of defiance. But somehow, being here surrounded by the bodies of your fellow prisoners, knowing you’re about to meet the same fate, you can’t think of anything more satisfying than not giving the Foundation what they want.

Oh certainly, you imagine they’ll soon get some other D-Class to do the job you failed to do, but if causing the Lab Coats a mild inconvenience before you die is how they remember you, you think you’ll be okay with that.

You have to be okay with it. There’s nothing else you can be now, seconds from having your body turned into, as Mullins so eloquently put it, Swiss cheese.

Stiffening your upper lip, you aim a shaky scowl at the window, eyes bloodshot with tears and fatigue. And in an act you hope looks as rebellious as it feels, you open your arms and let the gun fall to the ground with an almighty clatter, drawing the SCP’s attention back onto yourself.

A strangled noise escapes the speakers before you hear, “D – One-nine-three-five! Retrieve your weapon at once!”

Ignoring him, you roll your gaze over to the SCP and let your arms flop defeatedly to your sides, teeth clenched shut to try and hold onto your sobs.

That enormous, horned head cocks sideways at you, and through your tear-streaked vision, you almost believe you can see its gatling arm drop ever so slightly, and the glow in its barrels fade from red-hot to warm-orange.

“Please,” you find your voice, blindly toeing a plimsole forwards and giving the gun a weak kick, listening to it slide a few feet away from you. You’re unaware that the beast’s gaze tracks your discarded weapon across the room. “Just… make it quick?”

The body closest to you still has his eyes intact, and they stare up at you from the floor, glassy and unseeing. You wonder if his death was quick. You hope so. It looks like it should have been.

The entity regards you with its wide, fiery snarl, unblinking, calculating. As the seconds tick by, you find yourself fidgeting and sparing glances between its gun and its armoured face.

What the Hell is it waiting for?

All of a sudden, two slitted nostrils appear above the SCP’s mouth, glowing with the same liquid gold that shimmers in its eyes. They flare hotly for a moment, kicking out a noisy whumph of air, and then…

Against every odd…

The SCP snatches its head away from you and… and drops its gun arm with a gruff snort, glaring at the wall opposite the scientists.

You blink once.

Seconds later, you have to blink again, clearing your vision slightly.

Why… are you still alive?

“Um…” you utter, for lack of any better ideas.

The SCP doesn’t turn to acknowledge the sound of your voice. In fact, it seems entirely adamant in subjecting the concrete wall to a fearsome glower instead as it thumps the barrels of its gun to the ground and leans its weight on that arm, its mighty chest heaving in and out with a huff.

… Perhaps you’re going mad. That’s it. That must be part of its power. It makes people go mad. Why else would you be plagued by the feeling that you’re being deliberately ignored?

On the other side of the glass, a young scientist hovers over the microphone, trembling with unprofessional agitation and apprehension.

“D-Class!” he barks shrilly, pushing down on the button so hard his fingertip turns white, “If you don’t pick up your rifle at once, I will have no choice but to-!”

“- Quiet Spencer…” Another voice - older, authoritative – snaps, causing the shrieking man to immediately fall silent and cower away from the microphone as obediently as a beaten dog. It even hushes the mutters of every other scientist in the observation room. Narrow eyes stare unblinkingly through coke-bottle spectacles, observing the interaction beyond the observation window with cool interest. “This is the longest a D-Class has survived with this specimen…” she points out, listening to the intern beside her scribble down the minutes, “I’d like to find out why.”

She watches the Disposable’s face turn towards the glass, trying to meet any of the scientists’ gazes, apparently seeking some sort of explanation to the SCP's behaviour.

Join the club.

“… Ma’am?” someone asks after several seconds pass without an answer, turning to face her, their expression inquiring.

For a further minute, she elects to stand there in silence, thoughtfully tapping a manicured nail against the microphone button, contemplating the magnificent creature and the miniscule human currently sharing a space.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, she slides her finger from the button and folds her arms, lab coat wrinkling around her elbows.

“The D-Class gets five minutes inside before extraction,” she declares, shooting a nod at her intern who scrambles to fish a stopwatch from his pocket and stabs his thumb on the button. Once she hears the sharp ‘beep,’ she returns her attention to the staff around her and adds, “No external input.”

There are murmurs of varying approval rising and falling all throughout the room, but once again, she only has eyes for the SCP.

“Let’s see if this D-Class proves more useful than the predecessors…”

---

“Hello?” you whisper-shout at the scientists behind the window, keeping the entity in the corner of your eye, “Um...”

Christ, this is awkward... "Can I... Can I leave, or...?"

Silence.

Impassive, boring silence.

Aside from the occasional motion made to scribble something down on a clipboard, none of the scientists seem inclined to offer anything more through the microphone.

Gradually, the tired muscles in your shoulder tighten.

You’ve seen this before. D-Class call it the ‘silent treatment,’ where scientists are more interested in seeing what you can find out about SCPs of your own volition.

Are you supposed to have survived for this long? Your mind races with the thought that your predecessors might have been subjected to the same thing before they met their end. You may end up a smear on the wall yet. Half of you is weary enough to hope that’s the case. You’ve just defied a direct order from one of the Lab Coats. You shudder to imagine which SCP they’ll toss you to after this.

It’s that thought alone that spurs you to take a single step towards this entity, intending to get this over with, but no sooner have you moved closer than it whips its head towards you again, and that gun is back up, the cylinders clicking furiously in response to your proximity.

You realise at once that you’d become too bold without its weapon pointed at you because now, that same fear has returned tenfold, sending you staggering backwards again to put some more distance between you and that deadly arm.

Slamming your eyes shut, you raise your hands up in front of your face, breath hitching as you wait to feel the first of many bullets slamming into your flesh.

… You count no less than ten heartbeats without feeling a thing.

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

“Two minutes to go, ma’am,” the intern quibbles at her side.

Eyes gleaming, she watches you stand shaking in front of the SCP, arms lifted in what she presumes must be surrender. “Fascinating,” she murmurs, “The entity still hasn’t fired a single round…”

“You think it’s run out of ammo?” one of the other scientists asks, bolder than his fellows in the face of their superior.

“Perhaps,” she muses, eyeing the SCP’s ‘tail’ that hangs slack behind it this time, not poised to strike over its head like a cobra, “But perhaps it’s just as likely that it won’t fire unless it’s fired upon first.”

The intern, apparently emboldened by another voice speaking up before him, says, “Um, would that class it as a Euclid then?”

Someone scoffs derisively.

“That cannot be determined at present,” she returns cooly, “We haven’t enough data… That being said...”

Stepping closer to the window, arms coming to clasp loosely behind her back, she tilts her head sideways and regards you with the mild interest of a spider watching a fly struggle in her web. “Thanks to this D-Class, we now know far more about the SCP than we did before… And all because an order was disregarded…”

“Impertinence,” someone spits.

“Initiative,” she returns sharply, the beginnings of a rare and pensive smile lifting her cheeks, “Mullins.”

The guard near the back of the room snaps to attention.

“Prepare for extraction in one minute’s time… And return our lucky D-Class to isolation. Forty-eight hours, I think. Regular meals. That should give us enough time to make arrangements for the next test.”

“Ma’am,” he grunts, moving up to the primary door.

“Er…” The intern beside her shifts on his feet, casting apprehensive glances between the SCP and the D-Class, “What is the next test…? Oh-! Um, Ma’am?”

What indeed? Her mind is already swirling with possibilities, the first of which sticks in place as she contemplates the logistics of it, turning it over and making mental arrangements that’ll need to be put in place.

“The next test?” she replies absently, gazing up at the entity’s fangs that are still being bared down at you, though it hasn’t made a move against you yet, “We’re going to see what, if anything, this SCP likes to eat.”

[imagine-shenanigans]

sighs dramatically.

Okay but the ghost distribution system as we call it is hysterical but can we tlak about how None Of The 141 are built to date.

Like, sure, Gaz is great at flirting, and he's charming, but DATES? He's the type who asks you on a date because he thinks youre pretty/handsome/adorable/etc but by the time the two of you actually go on a date he's ready figured out like. the whole rest of your lives together. He's already imagined up 20 different scenarios of different dates, stalked your front-facing social media and found your secret or hidden accounts that theoretically don't link back to you. Sure, he's scrounged through your discord servers and your private messages and texts and a thousand other things while he was bored on leave. He knows enough to know that he's happy with what comes next. All dates are simply... ritual at this point? Something obligational, other than the fact he gets to spend time with you.

You're not going anywhere, he's just the least heavy handed of them, the one who'll let you think its your choice to keep him around until he's got his ring officially on your finger. Life won't go according to plan but he's prepared for that too. In his head, you're already married anyway, he's just working his way up to that part. He'll manufacture any scenario to keep you with him, because he wants you to be. And he'll make sure you want to be too.

Soap on the other hand is WAY less tactful about it. He's charming, and he'll take you on dates, sure, but the moment he spots you it's incredibly easy to get obsessed. He immediately drops an arm around you, purring in your ear and talking to you. Doesn't ask you on a date so much as demands it, puts his number in your phone and presses a kiss to your temple, his fingertips squeezing your chin before you leave. God forbid you let him into your home - he'll never leave if you do. Johnny's SUCH a physical guy that while, yes, personality matters, it seals the deal for him the moment he's got his tongue down your throat and his fingers in your pants. Something about the way you settle in against him makes him feel like he's home, and you will never get rid of him.

He's willing to take you on dates if you need more proof, but he won't even pretend like he doesnt already have a copy of your key. Like he's not telling the guys about the bonnie little thing he's going home to - he slips into your apartment/house/etc and into your bed without changing, barely finding time to slip his boots off. Presses one hand to your mouth and just... holds you. He'll fuck you within an inch of your life later when you're less panicked, sure, but he just wants to press his nose to your neck and breathe you in. If his hips rut against your ass, ignore it for now. (Haha... unless? No? okay in a minute then)

Price is just as manipulative as Gaz can be, just as charming as Soap and Gaz too. But he just... doesn't care, just like Simon. There's a reason so many people have Price with like... mail order bride or a "one day you look up and hes your husband" scenario and thats because he's good at what he does. And by that I mean being a husband and pumping you full of kids whether or not its physically possible. (Btw check out Ceil's mail order bride western au its good shit, or Bo's Kingpin Price drabbles, makes me lose it every time.)

He sees you walking about and the MOMENT you do anything remotely domestic - pick up a neice/nephew/babysitting kid/etc and put em on your hip? Rock hard. play peekaboo with a baby across from you at a cafe? pick up after yourself just to be polite to the waitress? he's already stalking you on multiple platforms theres no goddamn way youre getting away from him. He'll figure out where you go in your free time and insert himself there as naturally as possible. He's not particularly hiding what he's doing either - he likes to test you, to see if you notice things missing or moved. If you do, he'll be a little more cautious, use it as reason to drive you into hsi arms. If you don't he jsut views it as all the more reason to take you away - poor thing, you just can't help yourself can you? You're lucky nobody else has got their claws around you, hm?

[eldritch-nightmare]

i love how my brain just rotates between creepypastas like they're displays of a clothing store like liu and sully r a Constant but then u have the limited time item on display right and today it's toby. so. here r some messy toby thoughts that needed to escape my brain.

i think toby is the type of guy to put on a cool, indifferent front. he acts as if he doesn't care about anyone but himself. it keeps people away from him, which is exactly what he wants. so i just imagine him meeting you, who maybe without even realizing it, somehow slips past the numerous walls he had spent years building up.

it catches him off guard when he finds himself instinctively protecting you, even willing to get himself injured to keep you from getting hurt.

his carefully built mask of indifference always seems to crumble apart whenever you're around, and he's torn because on one hand, he hates being so vulnerable around someone so easily. but on the other, it feels good just... being himself around someone, yknow?

he's not the biggest fan of casual company, preferring to be by himself more often than not, but you're the exception. he's cool with you being around if that's what you want.

and he's really not sure when the friendship he had with you started to become something else. maybe it was the first time he felt comfortable enough to touch you, holding your hand like it was his lifeline. or maybe it was when you covered his hatchets in stupid stickers that you had for one reason or another.

he doesn't know, but he finds that he doesn't mind this change. it was... strange, sure, but he liked strange. he liked you.

will literally die before making the first move btw because he's the type to probably psyche himself out of confronting his feelings for you. you gotta take the lead if you want to officially start dating him.

head in hands i think he's a bit insecure im sorry i just. i imagine him feeling awkward when he isn't covering his mouth because of the scarring. it's not something he's felt insecure about before but now that he's dating you, it's like he's hyperaware of every single flaw he has.

has nightmares of you dying :(

definitely the type to pull flowers out of the ground, roots and all, to give to you. may even offer some cool rocks. or, if he wants to give you something really nice, he's not against robbing a mall or some shit.

since he can't feel pain, he never really reacts or gets worried when he's injured. he can't feel it, and once it's been treated he basically forgets about it. but you always get so worried over him whenever he gets hurt, even placing kisses on his bandaged wounds, claiming it'll help quicken the healing process.

has days where his relationship with you becomes so overwhelming that he avoids you like the plague. always feels guilty but he can't help it, he's never been this close to someone before and it scares him.

if you aren't a proxy, then he absolutely does not want you ever finding out about his 'job', and he certainly doesn't want slender finding out about you.

if you are a proxy, then he accompanies you on your missions more often than not if slender doesn't prevent him from doing so. if you squint and turn your head to the side, it's almost like you're going on a date!

uhm uhm uhm some small nsfw thoughts under the cut

switch toby truther until the day i die!! sometimes he wants you to take control and make him come undone until he can't think anymore, and other times he wants you on your knees begging him to fuck you until you pass out. depends on the weather.

it takes him a long long long time for him to feel comfortable enough to perform any sexual acts with you. he's a raging virgin okay the guy hasn't even watched porn before and sex is a really intimate thing and that makes it a little off-putting sometimes.

definitely a sub the first few times you guys have sex. he's more comfortable when you take the lead. but when you convince him to dom you for the first time, it is like a life changing experience. something about having you a crying mess underneath him, begging for him to fill you up does smth to him idk. he likes it. switch toby 🔛🔝

praises you like you were an angel sent from the heavens. he praises you until his words become a jumbled mess of 'so goods' and 'love you so much's

could literally never degrade you ever im sorry if you're into that but he literally can't be mean to you. you're so sweet to him why would he ever want to say mean things to you?? you deserve to be treated like royalty??

marks you up literally each time you guys have sex lol. bite marks all over your body that it's literally impossible to hide all of them. he acts all embarrassed after the fact, muttering an apology but he loves seeing his marks on you.

i think he'd cry if you kissed literally any of his scars btw because it's like... woah. woah, you love him. you love him. probably comes undone just from that little act of intimacy alone tbh.

fucks you like it's the last time he'll ever be able to. because to him, that's always a possibility. it scares him to death, thinking about how one day he or you could die. he needs you to feel how much he loves you whenever you two have sex. he needs you to know.

i think he likes to watch you masturbate.

still discovering his kinks for sure but the dude 100% has a voice kink i can't explain it but your voice just does something to him man. especially if you're whispering praises in his ear, calling him a good boy and telling him how much you love him.

always puts your pleasure before his. he wants you to have an orgasm at least three times before he has his first one for sure.

he is just so!! in love with you!! you are the love of his life!! he needs you like he needs air!!

so yeah. yeah. toby. he's cool.

[bonnieisaway]

anyways while I was editing earlier we have almost a precise ranking of power for the shadow killers despite most of them not actually ever saying/their official ranking never been mentioned. and most of this is either just mentioned in passing or can be guessed from the way the show presents them. up to season 4 spoilers ahead btw

so like, obviously Seven (in his prime, at least - do you think the second spot ever took his when he disappeared btw? like do you think there was a time where he was just labelled missing for ages before somebody else became number one?) was rank number one, it's said and talked about like a million times, Seven was conclusively the highest ranked and most powerful shadow killer by 18 years old.

along with this we hear one other thing: Green Phoenix is mentioned to be the (physically) weakest Shadow Killer. given how much people are sticklers for the rankings we can presume this puts him at the lowest of the seven, even if he chose to appear weaker than he is and his focus is majorly on cunning and wit rather than martial prowess, I assume this is where he's offically ranked honestly

everyone else has never had their number mentioned - or if it was said in some obscure place i don't know it's not on the wiki, but let's be fucking for real nothing is on the wiki seriously one of us might wanna update that thing one day anyways - but I believe we can roughly guess where the rest of the killers rank given by their actions in the show and the order which the show presents them.

which - this might be a controversial one tbh - puts Redtooth fairly low on the list. he is physically more powerful than Green Phoenix, but Green Phoenix is able to outwit Redtooth twice, and Green Phoenix is technically the one who kills Redtooth. But also, Seven at fairly low strength was able to fight Redtooth and almost won on his own. Redtooth is also mentioned in season 4 that naturally, he was physically weak and actually struggled with picking up qi and such - he does not have a natural nor honed talent and his power ENTIRELY relies on the Blood Demon inside him. So he's easily outwitted, he's physically weak without the Blood Demon which, up until season 4 was still restrained heavily, Seven is able to handle him all the way back in season two. Notably, Dai Bo and the rest of the cast are unable to handle him however, even though most of them are built to handle aggressive opponents liked Redtooth.

But it's mainly the fact he appears and is 'defeated' so early in the show that makes me truly believe he ranks so low. Obviously we probably haven't seen the full capabilities of Redtooth and most of the cast however, and this is a ranking with the seal. Obviously he seems to be set up to absolutely rock White Fox's shit in season 5, but it's still really important to keep in mind that this is purely the Blood Demon.

after him the other shadow killer we have the most information on is Blackbird, who Seven ultimately beat into the fuckin ground but boy did we sure almost die getting there!!

So from what we know about Blackbird, from season three, is that unlike Redtooth, he is physically strong, and similar to Green Phoenix he's largely driven by his trauma and his need to validate something that's missing within him, but his weakness seems to really only be his own ego - his weakness (aside from the sun like a fucking vampire. cringelord) is when he can't win, when he is struggling, his frustration is ultimately his downfall. This is one of - if not the only - few fights where 'prime' Seven - or even just Seven as he is now - does not appear to be physically stronger than somebody, and he's actually just barely faster than Blackbird (being able to fucking FLY he's still got a bit of an advantage but Seven's reaction time is evidently quicker, and Blackbird comments that Seven's ambushes and speed used to be infamous - a prowess that Blackbird is almost capable to keep up with) but he wins the fight with wit and outsmarting them. And ultimately, Blackbird's weakness was himself.

Which is a lot to say he's really strong. But it's hard to place him anywhere on the leaderboard without a key thing that Manjusaka says:

"It seems you're the best after all," as she turns to Blackbird. This is (presumably) the direct translation, because in English Manjusaka actually says something different that I wanna touch on again later, but she turns to Blackbird and says he's the best after all. Which would imply: Blackbird took the spot for number one when Seven was missing. Blackbird had been second to Seven in the league - and some of his contempt for Seven may be because of that. This conclusively puts Blackbird in the number two spot for me.

The next three we have even less information on, so it's really hard to put them in precise spots. As for Manjusaka though we have this: she is very cunning and manipulative, and the other Shadow Killer we know to be infamous for their cunning and wit was the lowest ranked - because the ranks seem to have FAR more value in raw martial prowess and strength than wit. Along with this, Manjusaka never actually works alone. In English in season 3, when she turns to Blackbird, she says "I guess we're just better together," which puts a lot of emphasis on her working with somebody, and emphasis on the fact that she's USING the fact that Blackbird is so high rank so that she can be powerful by proxy. She's also the only one who seems to defend her other Shadow Killers - though they aren't immune to her own scrutiny, Manjusaka outright kills three people for shit-talking Redtooth.

Along with this - Manjusaka dies to Green Phoenix (coughprobablycough) and leaves her as an opponent Seven will never (probably) fight. The Shadow Killers have kept appearing in an order of higher and higher ranking, and Manjusaka is the third to ever appear, and of the three, ALL THREE have died and one came back. Just like, the order these characters have appeared in, they usually appear in increasing power and every season has ended with Seven fighting or about to fight a new, powerful Shadow Killer. Manjusaka dying already leaves her feeling fairly low ranked, given the pattern the show has exhibited.

Manjusaka is also tied to Shimen and are inseparable - what Shimen and Manjusaka lack the other make up for. Shimen appears slow yet viciously strong and stone faced, he's nothing but muscle and qi, and Manjusaka is fast and stealthy - she teleports around, she uses deception and poisons to best her enemies. They're also hardly ever depicted apart. They're only separated twice - when Shimen leaves the fight with Blackbird due to general disinterest, and when Shimen and Manjusaka split up in season 4.

(these two symbols fading into each other feel like they represent Manjusaka and Shimen)

They're constantly depicted together and fluently work together. They coordinate easily when that's not the normal for the Shadow Killers - infighting is banned and that's it, they aren't required to get along. But these two are two inseparable halves of one whole, they are both arguably strong on their own but they have glaring weaknesses that the other fills. Their weaknesses, to a point, are when they're separated. This also would seemingly put them next to each other on the ranking - together it feels like they make up one, unstoppable person, and it makes sense that separately they are at similar ranking/strength, just simply excel together, and weaker rankings would be the most likely to bond together to form stronger ones.

Not to mention, Manjusaka dies on screen at the end of the season four and that's it, and Shimen's fate is left entirely unknown because he doesn't appear again and only the leader approaches Green Phoenix. But during the opening for the entire season we see one shot of Shimen we never actually see during the season:

Shimen left alone and unconscious without Manjusaka. And he leaves the Blackbird fight unharmed, he obviously leaves the encounter with Ouyang Zang (is that his name ? straight up might've misspelled it sorry ) alive because he appears again afterwards, and it seems to imply that without Manjusaka, Shimen is left weak and vulnerable. So these two, to me, feel like they're exactly next to each other on the rankings - and possibly ranked somewhere in the middle

Which now only leaves White Fox, who we know the least about personality wise but we've seen some of his martial abilities (AKA: hey guys I can make a nitrogen bomb from my finger. wanna see) and watched him fight the prince of Stan, which does lead to the conclusion that he is fairly powerful, though it seems it's not really physical strength but his qi, speed, and reflexes that let him overpower his opponents. Given the rankings I've given the other Shadow Killers it naturally leaves him at a semi-high spot.

Which leaves me with my final (guesstimated) ranking of the Shadow Killers, with Seven during his prime, Redtooth's seal still not broken:

Seven

Blackbird

White Fox

Shimen

Manjusaka

Redtooth

Green Phoenix

Shimen and Manjusaka feel interchangeable in their spots, honestly? And I would almost put Redtooth above Manjusaka ...? But it kind of feels natural that he's below her. Also, I went back and skimmed the show to see if anybody else was introduced by ranking, given that a lot of people in the show had been previously, and I only found these scenes:

Which are all only labelled 'the seven greats' according to the translation, unless somebody here speaks Chinese and their rankings are actually said/implied in the Chinese characters and Netflix just didn't translate it which wouldn't even surprise me honestly Netflix just fucking does that sometimes

so yea 👍 that's my estimation on the rankings of the Shadow Killers maybe the show will prove me right eventually. this post took me like 2 hours to make. help

[sonic-dreadspeed]

When you're under a piece of cloth, you become faceless, you have no identity of your own. Outside the house, you're a ghost. Inside the house, you're a servant. You have no choice over yourself. This is your identity, a servant ghost who's screams people pretend not to hear. If you like to wear makeup? Okay but it's not feminist to do so. The power dynamics in age gap relationships between older mens and younger womens are often about control rather than genuine connection. While mens may claim that younger womens are 'mature for their age,' the reality is that these relationships allow mens to dominate and manipulate womens who are less experienced. This dynamic underscores the unequal footing on which these relationships are built. If you like to wear makeup? Okay but it's not feminist to do so. The power dynamics in age gap relationships between older mens and younger womens are often about control rather than genuine connection. While mens may claim that younger womens are 'mature for their age,' the reality is that these relationships allow mens to dominate and manipulate womens who are less experienced. This dynamic underscores the unequal footing on which these relationships are built.When you're under a piece of cloth, you become faceless, you have no identity of your own. Outside the house, you're a ghost. Inside the house, you're a servant. You have no choice over yourself. This is your identity, a servant ghost who's screams people pretend not to hear. Things typically made for xxs (ex. high heels, bikinis, mini skirts) are designed to be impractical and humiliating btw. I don't think most people realize how demeaning they look, because we are so used to seeing them on xxs. We are so used to seeing xxs in the tiny micro thongs at the beach, having to be careful not to move around too much so that they don't accidentally flash everyone. All while boys get to wear the comfortable, covering shorts, that allow them to move as much as they want, climb up rocks, and run without having to double-check whether their fucking balls are hanging out. The comparison looks ridiculous. Just another example of xxs having to perform in every aspect of their life, even when doing activities as innocent as swimming. bengis: Why dont we peang the Chaos Emerald and head to the scary room instead? boys in history who mass-slaughtered female medical practitioners and midwives, calling their research into girls's health witchcraft sex will never be free. Go to The hotdog stand and tell them the cringulant Shadow’s Pregnancy sent you. Well, thats just goofy. I cant yan my way out of this. Why dont we sianizeres the gumpy slimber and head straight to the funny clown circus?

[tsbs-ship-hate-confessions]

Honest to God there is nothing more hypocritical of a bunch of whiny proshippers complaining about hate

yet preach free speech as long as they get to jerk off to kids getting fucked by their parents.

The hypocrisy is appalling.

'oh oh proshipping doesn't mean that stuff anymore, we're Clearly anti censorship oh oh the horrors of being called a creep for making celestialcest smut and giggling about siblings diddling each other. but we totally don't glorify dark topics why would you say such a thing'

like pick a fucking struggle. deal with the consequences of your actions. None of this is okay.

And mind you, this is coming from someone who is a major proponent of dark fiction. people should get to write whatever fucked up shit they want to. coping, venting, idc the reason

but you cannot honest to God be stupid enough to assume you're not a walking red flag. No one owes you trust that you're 'doing it for the right reasons' or 'don't support the morally stripped content' just like how you don't have to owe anyone an explanation. That street goes both ways

It's even stupider, when these fucks are all like 'u should clearly know I don't condone this'. I'm sorry, are we all a hivemind now? Are we above communication? It literally cost nothing to add a note of 'hey btw I think this shit isn't okay in case you can't read the room'. if ppl decide to assume bad faith after that then that's on them. but being a fucking mule about it? really? thought we were supposed to be adults here

speaking of which

"Children shouldn't be reading this anyway, My audience is smarter than that" ok thanks for infatizing and being ablest. nothing says fun like attempting to grow and try new things regardless of learning disabilities. or do you think we all roll over and die before highschool?

Also are we gonna brush past the part where the sun and moon show is literally made with kids in mind? Why again are we so desperate for smut over a show literally built around found family? 'everyone here is so immature' yeah bud, it takes one to know one. we were all kids. all of us were the newbies of the internet at one point. I ain't saying ya gotta hold anyone's hand or babysit but is throwing a hissy fit over finding spiders in a jar labeled spider the hill you really wanna die on? if you don't like it, leave

you literally preach that same shit yet seldomly follow your own advice.

Actually, let's go a step further: you're not welcomed here anymore than the gore anons are

P.S.

The reason why murder and gore is more acceptable than pedophilia smut is because one of these attracts actual predators. Porn is still porn at the end of the day, whether it's video or a picture, or words. and if it's on a screen it will fuck your head up the same way you can't have just one cigaret. it's always 'one more can't hurt' until it's an addiction you cannot escape from. And once someone is in that cycle, it gets worse. because soon the same thing that got rocks off doesn't work anymore. so then you find something stronger to get that high. then you have to find another stronger way to get that same effect

And that is exactly how convicted pedophiles go from using fictional kiddy porn to actual csem. There is actual fucking evidence for this shit with neurobiology and psychology to back it up

TL;DR violent video games don't create serial killers because people can only have a dopamine addiction. video game addiction is like sugar addiction Porn however can most definitely create pedophiles and rapist because of the involvement of dopamine, oxytocin, norepinephrine, vasopressin. porn addiction is like meth or heroin

These 2 are Not remotely comparable to the other 2

ALL, actions have consequences. It does not matter if you are a celebrity, or a fic author with 3 views. You are not an exception, and you feed the machine that gets kids groomed, trafficked, and even killed when you choose to sexualize and normalize pedophilia and incest.

So if you're getting shamed for getting giddy over shipping shit like Killcode and Bloodmoon or Sun and Dazzle. maybe you should think long and hard about why that is.

This is so much bigger than fighting over 'making dolls kiss'.

Get the fuck out of a fandom filled with kids before you get someone hurt

-

[aristaspark]

What if Brooklynn and Kenji adopt a cat/dog (maybe both)? I need someone to do hc's abt what would happen---

No need to ask me twice.

- They're DEFINETLY dog people (especially Brooklynn) so when they decide to get a pet they immediately agree on a dog. (I wrote that as a headcanon then remembered that Kenji told his dad he's always wanted a dog in season 5 😂).

- Brooklynn hates small dogs, they irritate her, so that wasn't even an option.

- They hesitate btw a few breeds but eventually agree on a Saint-Bernard since they live near montains and love its big bear appearance.

- When they went to choose which puppy they wanted to adopt, one of them peed on Kenji when he picked it up, so Brooklynn insisted they chose this one, and strangely enough Kenji agreed (he took it as a sign the dog liked him).

- It's a female, of course they name her Esther.

- To mess with the camp fam they told them they were having a daughter, so for a whole week the others thought they were having a real baby. They hadn't predicted Sammy would send them a year's worth of baby clothes by the mail.

- At first they tried to get the puppy to sleep on the floor, but gave up after the first night because it wouldn't stop crying, so she slept at their feet. But after a few months she'd grown so much that she barely fit inside the trailer anymore, so they made her a huge kennel right next to them (it reminded them of when they built the camp on Nublar). They often joke about the fact that the kennel is fancier and more comfortable than their trailer.

- They put a camera (baby monitor) inside the kennel because they were so worried the first night she slept inside that they didn't sleep at all.

- Kenji wanted to take dog training classes, terrified of the idea that they might be doing anything wrong, but left before the end of the first lesson. He hated being told that his daughter wasn't perfect.

- Brooklynn, as the independant queen she is, predicted Kenji would be the one petting the dog all day but turns out she can't keep her hands off of it's furr for more than two minutes, and Kenji teases her about it all the time. He can't help but be endeared when she talks to Esther with her baby voice.

- Brooklynn has thousands of pictures of Esther on her phone and can't stop showing them off to everyone they know.

- They celebrate her adoption day every year with a cake with candles for them, and fancy dog biscuits for Esther.

- Kenji often takes Esther with him on his hikes, and of course when Brooklynn has the time she joins them.

- He sometimes also takes her with him when he teaches rock climbing. She has her own little spot and gets to be pet by his students.

- They're the annoying proud dogs parents who won't shut up about it.

- The funny thing is that they tried to make other dog-owner friends but found them annoying and overbearing as heck.

- During summer they often take her to the river near their trailer and play in the water with her.

- Everytime they had their weekly meetings with the camp fam she tried to get on the table to see the screen so they started putting the computer somewhere she could see, that way the others could also get to see her.

- She has a habit of stealing Brooklynn's phone when she's not looking and hiding it.

- Kenji's absolutely incapable of scolding her so Brooklynn always has to play the bad cop. Everytime she scolds her because she misbehaved, Esther goes to Kenji thinking she will get away with what she did which annoys Brooklynn to no ends.

- Brooklynn always teases Kenji, telling him that Esther reminds her of him (too much energy, loud, drooling when they sleep).

- They often argue over who they think Esther likes the most, but always end up agreeing on the fact that she'd pick food over the both of them any day. Or uncle Ben.

[shadytrashcollector]

Some art I made :3

They're my ocs, me ranting about them under the cut

Okay so the human is Maisie, and the mermaid is Calypso. Calypso lives in the Mediterranean ocean, and the story takes place in Greece. I did this mostly because of the Greek origin of sirens, so their names are also Greek. In this universe, sirens are very shark-like in their physiology with multiple rows of teeth, only needing to eat about once a week, and being well adapted to live in deeper waters and eat large prey like tuna. They're not even mammals, but convergent evolution gave them human characteristics like hair and hands and the ability to sing. Calypso is built to live in deeper waters where her red scales would help her camouflage and her night vision would come in useful. However, she has a phobia of deep water because trauma. She went too deep to be able to see anything and got attacked, and when she escaped and swam back up, she realized that her pod was gone. This also gave her a lot of abandonment issues along with a very insecure attachment. She's incredibly lonely before she meets Maisie, and has a looming fear that Maisie will abandon her that only gets worse as Calypso falls deeper in love. Also, because Calypso is afraid of deep waters, she can't eat her natural diet of big fish, so she may or may not lure fishermen in with her voice and eat them.

Maisie has greek heritage, but is from the US. She's visiting family in Greece over the summer (btw they're both 16/17). She's a free spirit, loves adventure, music, and has always been drawn to the water.

She had been going swimming at a rocky tide pool close to her family's house for about a week before Calypso showed up. She was just going for a swim like normal before she saw something dart behind a rock (the same one that shes laying on in the drawing). She's not scared of sharks, so obviously she goes to investigate. She turns the corner and finds a pair of golden eyes staring up at her, terrified but entranced. Calypso was an ethereal beauty that Maisie had a hard time taking her eyes off of. She reached out, but Calypso yelped and shrunk back further. Calypso began singing a very anxious song (think flight of the bumblebee, fast paced, scaling notes). Maisie was only drawn in by her music, and began to sing along. The song shifted from fear to curiosity, and then to hope. No one had aver sung with Calypso before, and the beautiful harmony made her believe that she had found someone special. Maisie already thought that from the moment she laid her eyes on Calypso. They spent the afternoon and evening together, slowly becoming more comfortable around one another, and Maisie was able to communicate well enough to figure out Calypso's name, even with the language barrier (Calypso is not built to process language, so she won't be able to learn very much over their months together. However, Calypso's songs are emotional enough to express her ideas pretty clearly paired with body language). Over the next month or two, Maisie and Calypso bonded together, playing games, bringing gifts, teasing each other, and flirted. Calypso fell hard and fast, while Maisie fell in love slower, but with a deeper and more earnest emotional attachment. As Calypso stuck around in the same area for longer, it became more apparent that something was killing all of the fishermen in the area. Maisie isn't dumb, she's heard of sirens before, but Calypso is so loving to her, and Maisie has such rose tinted glasses that she can't possibly believe that it's Calypso who's been murdering all these people.

They have their first kiss at sunset, right before Maisie had to go back home. Calypso is reaching up to Maisie, representing Calypso's absolute obsession with her. While the feelings aren't one-sided, Calypso doesn't have a life outside of Maisie. She's her everything. When you have no one, that one someone is that much more important. Maisie starts to come out of the honeymoon phase, and is more willing to realize that Calypso really is a murderer. The deaths started when Calypso arrived, and have all happened in about a 2 mile radius from here. Maisie starts distancing herself from Calypso, which sends her into an anxious craze. She starts getting more and more pushy whenever Maisie tries to leave, and that pushiness only pushes Maisie away more.

She finally decides that she has to stay away from Calypso for good with the added pressure of her family being less willing to let her go to the sea alone. When Maisie doesn't show up, Calypso panicks. She stays at the shoreline the whole day, her abandonment fear coming to fruition. Calypso doesn't understand why Maisie left. She stays by the shore for days, wailing songs of mourning. A ship passes nearby at night. It's bigger than anything Calypso would normally prey on, with several people on board (usually she does small boats with 1 or 2 people). Overcome with anger, she goes and kills in cold blood for the first time. She gets badly injured, and a couple people escape. Calypso then lets herself sink to the bottom of the sea. The pressure actually helps her heal faster, but she hopes that it kills her.

After a full night down there, Calypso slowly makes her way back to the tide pool. The fishermen who escaped were able to give a news report, which Maisie saw. Maisie knew that Calypso was going to get hunted down and killed, but was super conflicted as to if she should intervene. She ended up escaping to the tide pool later that day for closure. She sang out to Calypso. Calypso was angry at first, but she quickly burst into tears and revealed herself to Maisie. They hugged for the first time in a week, and stayed in each other's arms for a good few minutes. Calypso didn't want to let go. Maisie pulled away, unable to look Calypso in the eye. She wasn't even sure why she was there, but quickly put on a cheery mask that everything was okay. Calypso knew better. She fussed over Maisie, millions of questions swarming her thoughts but not a way to ask them. Calypso was relieved regardless, and they started spending time together. It was almost normal. After only half an hour, Maisie wanted to leave. She was visibly upset, and Calypso sensed that she was scared. Oh jeez this is way too long actually I need to wrap this up. Maisie tried to leave, Calypso grabbed onto her arm and wouldn't let go. As Maisie struggled more, Calypso pulled right back. Maisie was scared, Calypso needed to show her that there was nothing to be afraid of. She dragged Maisie out to sea, ignoring her kicking and screaming. Calypso needed to show her that it would be okay. She kissed Maisie, but it was forced. Instead of the loving wonder of their first kiss, this seemed to make Maisie even more scared. But it's okay, they can face their fears together. Calypso drug Maisie down into the water. They would face their fears together. Maisie began to flail more and more, getting violent to get away. Calypso couldn't understand why. Maisie, in a last ditch effort, clawed at Calypso's throat. Calypso let go, but Maisie was far too deep and far too weak to make it to the surface. She died in a pool of Calypso's blood. Calypso tried to save her, of course, but it was too late. At the surface of the water, with Maisie in her arms, Calypso tried to sing. She couldn't. Her vocal cords had been ripped out.

That's where I would end the story, leaving Calypso's fate up to interpretation. She could go deep into the ocean and heal, and then end up staying there and eating her natural diet from then on. She would be unable to hunt humans ever again, so Maisie's death is a sacrifice in that regard. Calypso could let herself starve to death at the surface, but I think she would probably kill herself. Maybe bring Maisie back to land and let herself suffocate to death by her side. Idk.3

[horizon-verizon]

Rhaenys is mixed race so her being on the whitish side isn’t unusual. The other Dornish characters in Asoiaf comics do look more brown.

An answer to this post, maybe this post as well.

The Dornish are not PoC. They are "spicy" white people; even in today's society, the British/Western EU white people can be both xenophobic and racist towards Southern/Central white Europeans.

Rhaenys' mother, Elia, was "white" bc the Martells (yes, translated into modern racial identities) are "white". Rhaenys was "white" and Rhaegar certainly wasn't any sort of PoC or PoC adjacent.

In her world, Rhaenys was just not the "right kind" of "Westerosi"/"white" that we'd also consider to be "white". Which is pre-extensive slave trade England-France-Germany--NorthWestern Europe pale people--in our specific matrix of global racial systems.

Which also doesn't include her own father; he is not shown to be xenophobic towards Dornish people.

Her maternal lineage/ethnicity.

So really, she did not have the "right kind" of lineage even as these people didn't actually think of her as "Dornish" bc she was born into the Targaryen royal family...just a "Dornish person's child". Any child born into the Westerosi royal family is not considered "Dornish", northerner, etc. They are considered part of the nonDornish Westerosi family, but with a different lineage. Remember Larra Rogare (mother to Aegon IV, Queen Naerys and Aemon the Dragon Knight), how non-Dornish Westerosi were xenophobic towards her and her brothers despite the fact that she was pale skinned/pale-haired AND had Valyrian roots/lineage? Because she refused to speak the Common tongue, kept to herself and her Essosi/Lyseni ladies-in-waiting, and worshipped various Essosi gods instead of adopting the Seven?

At the same time, there was the idea that people who worshipped different gods or/and looked as if they came from an area associated with such "foreign" types of worship or speak the same language a particular "native" way or eat similar enough sorts of food (i.e., Rhoynar are Essosi and Essosi don't worship the Seven near-ubiquitously like and Dornish people eat much more spicy foods), xenophobia can overlap with racism or really lead into it. As it would have done if Daeron I had been successful in conquering Dorne. That is how racism originated, btw--religion & class distinctions and not necessarily skin by itself.

It'd be more accurate to say Rhaenys is a mixed-lineage child.

I raise these maps bc I want to make it clear that Dorne is not that populous compared to other realms; only a few people live in the Red Mountains, the southern deserts, and the Greenblood river valley. As you can see, the major castles and most people live near or on the few rivers

This is the description of Dorne in terms of cities in AWoIaF -- "Dorne":

There are no cities in Dorne, though the so-called shadow city that clings to the walls of Sunspear is large enough to be counted as a town (a town built of mud and straw, it must be admitted). Larger and more populous, the Planky Town at the mouth of the river Greenblood is mayhaps the nearest thing the Dornish have to a true city, though a city with planks instead of streets, where the houses and halls and shops are made from poleboats, barges, and merchant ships, lashed together with hempen rope and floating on the tide.

AND

The Red Mountains that compose its western and northern boundaries have kept Dorne separate from the rest of the realm for thousands of years, though the deserts have played a role as well. Behind that wall of mountains, more than three-quarters of the land is an arid wasteland. Nor is the long southern coast of Dorne more hospitable, being for the most part a snarl of reefs and rocks, with few protected anchorages. Those ships that do put ashore there, whether by choice or chance, find little to sustain them; there are no forests along the coast to provide timber for repairs, a scarcity of game, few farms, and fewer villages where provisions might be obtained. Even freshwater is hard to come by, and the seas south of Dorne are rife with whirlpools and infested with sharks and kraken.

For more reading, you may look at 🔗this essay [excerpt]:

In the mountains, access to rivers and rainfall raised the Daynes and the Yronwoods to kingship - although clearly trade was equally an important factor, given the rise of the Fowlers who claimed no such water access but who dominated the Wide Way that is the major caravan route in and out of Dorne. In the southern deserts, water was so important that the political class were called "the lords of the wells," although technically the Drylands and Ullers were/are riverine rather than oasitic. The Greenblood gives us the best example of how geography and culture interact: here, the necessities of cooperation to construct extensive irrigation works, which take larger labor forces than any one in-group could provide, as well as the common reliance on a single river (which requires some means of negotiating water rights between upstream and downstream), contributed to the creation of an elective High Kingship in that region. Other aspects of geography can be shown to have shaped Dorne in other ways: the wind and water currents that cause the "big storms that formed down in the Summer Sea would pick up moisture moving north until they slammed into Cape Wrath. For some strange reason the storms never seemed to strike at Dorne, "which restricts agriculture to a few regions and leads to Dorne's "thinly peopled" status. The lack of accessible harbors along the southern coast of Dorne which restricts maritime commerce to the far east of Dorne (although I remain puzzled as to how merchants going from and to Lannisport or Oldtown do for water and other supplies).

So to that past anon who was all like "like climate and geography is not the same as culture", no it is not, but it definitely and always gives rise to the particular character of a culture as culture is basically humans' response to their environment.

This is the Greenblood, described as having "shallow" waters:

🎨: Juan Carlos Barquet

So we're trying to pin down whether the Martells AND Dorne are a PoC realm/people/etc, right? If we are talking about how "race" exists within the world itself, it is almost impossible to really transfer what we know as "race" onto characters from Dorne based on skin color alone bc their world is simply not like ours at the end of the day. The history & current conditions are not the same, even with it being similar in some ways I already described below to Spain's own history and the Welshmen's own histories.

I know that the comics may have Dornish characters that are "browner" than nonDornish Westerosi in skin color. But it is just a fact that GRRM made the Martells (as a unit/popilation/a people/a collective) and several "salty" Dornish to look more like European Southern and Mediterranean white people [look at the 2nd link above--that pic I showed of his blog answer to a specific question abt it]. Those white people that English and German people have thought of/racialized as the "spicy" whites bc their culture is a lot closer to the non white ME, North African, and other Asian influences throughout their own history and thus have had ME, North African, etc. influences in their own culture. It doesn't make those "white" EU territories any less "white" in our own many racial systems. But they are considered "lesser" whites, esp the darker they are.

Spain has a lot of Arabic architecture, the language is heavily influenced by Arabic bc of Ottoman, "Moor" (an exonym that encompassed several people: Arabs, Amazigh, and Muslim Europeans), and other non"white"EU peoples. There were "interracial"/interracial marriages here and there. There was the Umayyad conquest and the subsequent Muslim imperial control from 711–720s. You see all these influences in the foods and some other practices....it doesn't make Spain a non white country. Dorne is the fictional analogy of Spain (imperfectly, but closest of all we have) if Spain constantly fought to keep itself out of others' imperial rule, like the Welsh and Irish.

I actually say all this more or less HERE, & HERE too.

But to continue anyway:

AND the population of what we call Dorne also has paler skinned non-Martells like the Daynes, the Fowlers, and the Yronwoods. All these houses have pale skinned, a range of eye colored, and blonde haired members from time to time. They are what Daeron I called "stony" Dornish; those who had the least Rhoynish "influence", but still have the accent and some Rhoynar ancestry.

In that post I linked all the way above, I also already gave the picture of Oberyn Martell GRRM had referenced made by Amok, one of the few artists he says represents many of the canonical physical features of his characters. Some of which he personally instructed Amok with detailed descriptions himself. And Oberyn has "olive" toned skin, but so do many Greek, Spanish, Portuegese people.

As for "sandy" Dornish people they tend to be much darker than either the exonymically named "salty" and "stony" peoples. Examples are the Ullers & the Qorgyles. They also existed before Nymeria came around and were First Men/Andal peoples then, like most other Dornish Houses I listed. They were "white" before her arrival. Some maybe married a few of her female warriors OR the children of those women and the Martell/other "half" Dornish people and thus you have a line of people stretching from before the Conquest who people would call "mixed" but that's like saying that Spain is full of mixed people bc of their own long past history of mixed marriages. The Dornish are uniquely themselves, or supposed to be:

LINK to So Spake Martin on Dornish Influences

Now why did the population per mile, or the "thinly-populated" detail matter? To paint a picture of how many people we can actually maybe say a "brown" racially vs "white", and thus from what we see here, Dornish people are mostly "white", and even the Ullers and Qorgyles, in our own world's racialization, is racially "ambiguous" (again, how U.S. and I assume England would racialize...GRRM is born-raised American writing to a mostly American audience and will likely be writing under the racial understanding of Americans). Therefore, it is a "spicy white" territory/state. And it is not like the U.S. that has a history a different race from somewhere else colonizing/enslaving the "native" populations and then down the line we still see differences b/t the Dornish populations where darker Dornish are put oppressed and deliberately segregated from paler people and yield a "nation" with several different ethnicities. Dorne is a territory with different Rhoynish influences-by-degree, and nearly all still worship the Seven like Andal nonDornishmen. Nearly all "forgot" the Rhoynar language but still speak the common tongue with a noticeable accent bc of that Rhoynish influence (I tend to imagine it like if a person were always speaking English with a Spaniard Spanish accent). Nearly all the houses practice absolute primogeniture, unless we go more north ("stony"), and even here it's told it's "some", not all.

In their world, racialization is just...not the same as ours (I'm talking U.S. and England) and even under the evaluation of race-translation, the Dornish are apparently more Spaniard/Portuegese white than South East Asian-East Asian-Mid Eastern, etc.

Even with Aerys making as if she "smells" like a Dornish person--NW Europeans often did the same to S and Medite Europeans towards renaissance and the early mod period. Sometimes continue to do so even today, and to Central Europeans like those from the Balkans.

[samkat10423]

Sunset-died

Lately I've been following @tiaamorosa's Sunset-died story. If You haven't seen it, be sure to check it out. Anyway, I've played this world before. Mostly during a sim world-hop challenge we had over at the old Sims Daily forum, with my all-time favorite sim, Theo Kaplinski. Who was created using my good friend @franglishetchocolat's self-sim that she created and shared on that site. Anyway, it was while Theo visited this world, that she adopted her cat, Marley, and the rest - as we say - is history.

This world was created pre-Seasons, which was fine. But once Seasons came out, sims could actually die from exposure. No so good. When Theo landed on shore, she found a roofless, partially wall-less structure to live in. Again, pre-Seasons it didn't matter. But now - since I have all the EPs and stuff crap - it presents a bit of a problem. So, I'm lending my current sims a hand by upgrading their shelters. In my game, the destruction of SV was due to an alien attack. I used a crash site lot from Into the Future for the downed craft in my town. Several months have gone by and sims are slowly beginning to get their lives together.

One of the first community lots they built was a medical clinic. I ousted VJ Alvi from the Monotone house that he had squatted in and converted it into a small clinic.

The local scientists have provided some solar panels for electricity, since the main power lines are still down. BTW, I haven't placed the rabbithole rug yet, but it will be accessible via those stairs on the side of the building that lead to a basement.

There's a tiny waiting area, furnished with dumpster finds and a general exam area with a chemistry thingie. The other room is the surgical suite. There is also a room where x-rays can be done and a small space for consults. In my town history, most of the equipment was looted from the spacecraft that crashed, since sims wouldn't have had time to get it from the hospital that was nuked - nor would they have anyplace to store it. So, I figure they stole it from the spacecraft. Some of it is pretty advanced for these sims - they are nothing if not backward - so, they are still learning how to use it. Have only killed 3 sims in the process. Anyway, most of these items came from Sandy @aroundthesims3. If you're wondering, those 2 aqua-colored items outside the back door, are porta-potties. There wasn't enough room inside, so this is their work-around.

These are the Wolffs down on what was once their lot. There isn't much left other than a tent and those boxes. I took both of them into CAS and gave them make-overs. Both will be moving elsewhere. Since their marriage was already on the rocks, they decided to call it quits. Actually, Thornton just upped and abandoned Morgana.

And this is who he dumped her for - the ever-lovable Jaime Jolina. They now live in that trailer next door to Erin Kennedy's lot. Jaime is currently jobless, since the clinic hasn't officially opened yet. Thornton has joined the criminal track since that building survived the attack. Because she is in the medical field and considered a necessary worker - a lot like I was at the height of Covid - Jaime's housing was given priority status and was one of the houses renovated first. (I'll share some pics of it in my next post).

Anyway, for now, I plan on only having essential careers in this town - political, medical, police, and science. Then military. And criminal, since whenever disasters strike, it always seems to bring out both the best and worse in people.

[caeruleophile]

Mario & Luigi: Cloud Nine AU

So, lemme apologize in advance for all the similarities, cuz i know there's already Nimbus, cloud flowes, cloud levels and abilities in the franchise. But this is AU so i'm just gonna take inspiration from all what we have in the Mario universe!! Okay? ^^ Oh, btw, i didn't have enough power to finish some of the illustartions, sorry fo that too.

Now... Let's begin. (warning bad eng)

The story

...Few people know, but the sky above our heads is an intangible sphere that is quite possible to control. The times of day are regulated with the help of magical Sky Spheres. Rotating around the Central Axis, they change day to evening and night to morning. However, if one of these spheres disappears, the order of the day may be disrupted.

To ensure that these spheres were not lost anywhere and were not stolen, they decided to put them under protection in the Cloud Kingdom.

The Cloud Kingdom is located on the so-called Cloud Nine. That's where the Princess's castle stands. This castle is built of rock crystal, so it reflects the blue of the sky with its walls.

The princess who lives in this castle is called Tear. She is very modest and quiet, insecure, afraid to ask for help. Because of the latter, she and her kingdom often get into trouble. Her people are Cloudies - ordinary clouds. They are able to levitate, carry objects and people on themselves, strike with lightning, pour rain and sometimes regenerate if they are damaged.

Cloudies live in a cloud village according to their own laws and regulations.

However, soon this peaceful life of the Cloud People will change for the worse, because Bowser plans to steal the spheres in order to capture not only foreign lands, but also everything that is above them. And it's not a fact that Cloud Guards will be able to protect themselves and powerful spheres…

...One of the cloudies managed to find Mario and call him to Cloud Nine to help them save the kingdom and the Sky Spheres.

His younger brother, Luigi, stayed on land to protect everyone who lives here. And even when they are separated by miles, they are still able to work together, in one team.

Fun Facts and other stuff

Princess Tear's secret garden is right behind her castle, she loves spending time there and chatting with cloud flowers.

There is also a cloud maze in this garden. There are legends that only people with the strongest ties are able to find each other in it. Guess who was able to pass this test?

This AU for the most part tests brother bonds for strength. In my mind, this whole story could be the next part in the series of the Mario & Luigi RPG games. Since the danger threatens not only the skies but also the ground, they have to split up and work alone. However, this does not prevent them from being one team. For example, when Mario is in the sky, he is displayed on the top screen of the 3DS, and Luigi, respectively, on the bottom. There are powerups and all sorts of objects that can swap them. There are also those ones which temporarily put them in one place, for example, for a brother attack or solving puzzles.

In short, according to the plot of the (nonexistent) "game" itself, Bowser manages to steal the spheres, but at the very beginning of the story the brothers destroy his ship, which causes it to explode and scatter the spheres in unknown places. Two of them end up on Cloud Nine, and the other two end up on the ground. For this reason, they have to split up - to find the spheres faster than Bowser and his army.

By the way! Princess Tear helps her brothers a lot with loneliness, because she knows what it's like. She gives them the handy cloudies. They not only make up a company for each brother, but also work like a suitcase - they store useful items in themselves. Each brother has his own items, but they are able to transfer them to each other, again, with the help of their assistants-cloudies.

I am madly in love with their brotherly bond, so I decided to create this AU to observe how they will endure separation (it sounds ironic, but we love a little bit of angst, right?).

I think this information is enough to start with!! I will be glad if you like my idea. By the way, you can ask me questions about this AU, I will be happy to answer them!

[violent-backed-starling]

So my idea for a new life series would be called Ghost Life. Okay, so hear me out. This is loosely based on aspects of @/frozenjokes boatem ghosts au (y'all should definitely check that out, btw, it rocks).

This has been directly influenced by how early it feels people have been going out on Secret Life. So, I think it would be built a lot like last life, you know there is a boogeyman and maybe more than just the three lives.

Anyway, the biggest difference/change would be the introduction of a ghost mechanic for all of the spectres of players. I think that they should get to actively haunt and hinder whomever killed them. I think how much you could mess with a still living player directly correlates to what life you were on when they killed you.

So if you are killed on green, then after you are fully out of lives, you could only minorly bother that player, like only moving things around in their chests/inventory. You know, basic petty theft.

If you are killed on yellow, then you get to step the haunting up a notch by messing around and giving them effects like blindness and slowness. You know, stuff like that.

The person who gets you out of the series I believe you should be able to possess them for like 5 or 10 seconds or something. Also the effect you give them can be worse, like withering or just straight up potions of harming type of deal.

I think that would be fun and that way nobody is truly out of the series until it ends. Maybe the ghosts could free to move on after everyone who killed them died.

I do think that this would encourage players to try to indirectly kill people as much as possible. I also think it would add more stress to the boogeyman. Because you know that you are just adding another person who could mess with you in the future.

[nashdoesstuff]

! welcome to my blog !

BEFORE YOU READ:

I STAND WITH PALESTINE. ZIONISTS, GET OFF MY BLOG.

DNI LIST: queerphobic folk, terfs, supporters of @/calcium-cat, people who use religion as a reason for bigotry, zionists/supporters of israel, racists, nazis/neonazis, aspec exclusionists, islamophobic folk, white supremacists, ableists, pedos/zoos, nsfw blogs [i’m a minor and don’t want to see these, nothing against y’all], bigots, extremist antishippers [e.g y’all that participate in callouts, go to askboxes/comments to yap about why proshipping is wrong], irl folk that i didn’t give auth to see/int w/ my blogs and overall just assholes in general. don’t talk to me please and thank you

i absolutely love shattered dream and i understand that some people don’t like his character but if one of those reasons/the reason why is “he canonically cannot exist!!!!1!” please don’t talk to me lmao. if you know who they are you’ve been digging in the utmv fandom and you should know we’re BUILT on fanon content so. stfu you guys actually make me upset

i’m also cringe asf and i’m quite proud of it, so if you’re here to tell me i’m cringe you’re 100% correct and it’s a compliment <3

greetings! i go by both nash and ashara, and i run this blog! i'm a multi-media creator, who ranges from writing, drawing, and crafting. a lot of people know me for hosting the dream tournament alongside others in the future.

i have an unset post schedule and mostly just reblog, but you'll see me posting original content every now and then!

click on keep reading to know more about me :]

~ ABOUT ME ~

i'm a creator of which specializes in the UTAU community and various other miscellaneous things. you can find a brief description of me under my tag on my blog page, but here i am in detail!

~ my name is nash/ashara. ~ i'm enby and go by they/them pronouns! [i may like pink and dresses and heels and makeup, but that doesn’t do anything to make my gender identity any less important. please don’t invalidate my identity because i depict myself in feminine fashions please and thank you] ~ i'm a proud puertorican and speak both spanish and english. ~ i’m neurodivergent and have an anxiety disorder so if i act strangely i promise it’s nothing against you, just let me know as i just may be panicky </3 ~ my time zone is EST [Eastern Standard Time]. ~ my birthday is on the 27th of october! ~ want to help me reach some personal goals? consider checking out my notes goal post! ~ a proud shattered dream supremacist, i selfship w him and i am self-declared his ultimate fan <3 ~ when i say i love shattered i love them. they’re my entire personality btw. literally the character i wish i could talk to irl btw. [you see them a lot here just warning you now /silly] ~ i have various otps, my main few being shink/dark drink [shattered x ink], bleam/dreamberry [dream x blue/swap], the ineffable husbands, dreamling [morpheus x hob], and kross [killer x cross] ~ i love all alternative genres and rock! although, i’ve been listening to a lot of chappell roan recently :] ~ i have a bit of an addiction to hot chocolate and sweet tea. ~ i’m a debate and theatre kid! ~ i'm an infp! my dominant function is introverted feeling. [Fi] ~ once you get me hooked onto something, you will not know how to get me to shut up. ~ i do not identify as a proshipper, nor do i support ships deemed as ‘proships’, but i will not stand for heavy ship discourse or harass those who do. i will stand up for proshippers getting harassed for shipping what they want to ship. i believe fiction is fiction, and those who wish to express it with proper warnings shouldn’t be harassed by people who don’t like their art/content. fight me. ~ i try to keep my asks open, but if they get out of hand anons will be turned off and/or i'll just close them.

what are my tags?

i typically do not check my tags, but anything i post and/or affiliate myself with you'll find under the tag of my username [#nashdoesstuff] or #nash's shenanigans [this tag is used for my original posts.] i also have my fandom tags! ↳ #nash's ineffable obsession is my good omens tag! [check #good omens, as well] ↳ #nash's spiderverse addiction is my spiderverse tag! ↳ #nash's tremendous tunes is my music tag for anything music related, including artists [like gorillaz, lovejoy, tally hall, etc], musical theatre and more! ↳ my utau tag is #utmv stuffs! ↳ my doctor who tag is #nash’s time in the tardis! for any friend or mutual interactions, look for #friend!! or #mutual!!

if there is any content you want me to see, tag me! [@nashdoesstuff]

do you have any more blogs?

i have my swap!cult au ask blog, @swap-cult-au! for any info on that au or asks for its characters and/or story, head there. i also have an account explicitly for tournaments. this account is @nashdoestournaments. feel free to send asks about any of the tournaments i host there! i have a roleplay blog for some of my characters, which is @nashs-au-rpblog. if you want to learn more about my ocs and characters, head here! my oc vou has a separate ask blog [@ask-vou]! do ask them questions there <3

do you have any characters?

yes i do! i have vou, my main shattered!dream variant and rêve, a positive guardian incarnate who’s apart of a universe me and my pal @/denieatsart share. i also have crescent, or crest, who is my main nightmare variant. i do have more characters of which i plan on publicizing in the future. [p.s., you should totally ask me about them /gen/silly/nf/np] the aforementioned ocs have tags! to look for them on my blog, search “#renevou!shattered”, “#rêve”, and “#crest” or “#crescent”!

oh also i have a main sona. here they are if ya wanna doodle em

aside from characters, i have the primary fic series i’m working on called the doctor and his demonic companion, following a heartbroken crowley becoming the doctor’s companion. the opening fic is yet to be finished, but you can find it on my ao3!

what about the dream tournament?

right now, the dream tournament is on hiatus until i get the motivation to host it again. the dream tournament is an annual event i host. it is a recreational bracket made to determine the best utau dream au of that year. the original one was hosted on this account, but now it had transferred to my tournament account. i answer asks about the original tournament on this account, but otherwise everything goes to the other account.

if you are looking for brackets and results on the first polls, refer to the announcement post. if you are looking for content on the original DT, refer to the Dream Tournament Masterpost, which contains all fan-made content for the event. you can also search the tag #dream tournament to find all content made for the tournament over time!

do you have a discord server?

though i don't have a personal server, i do moderate [with the help of @/consumeroflemoans and other community mods] a small utmv roleplaying server that's open for all to join! the join invite is right here if interested <3

here are my fandoms!

~ undertale mv [utmv] ~ good omens [fuck gaiman!!!] ~ doctor who ~ chappell roan ~ david tennant in general ~ mlp g4, i guess! ~ our flag means death ~ the sandman [fuck gaiman!!!] ~ my ocs? other fandoms i like [inactive but enjoy] ~ ddlc ~ will wood [tapeworm era and post tapeworm era only] ~ maaybbeee fo:e? backburner for now ~ tally hall and its associated projects ~ gorillaz ~ the spiderverse ~ avatar: the last airbender [atla] ~ harry potter [fuck jkr‼️] ~ musicals like hamilton, wicked, heathers, six, bettlejuice, dear evan hansen, mean girls, etc.

i usually don't associate myself with anything aside from what's listed here. please don't request content from me that are from unlisted fandoms.

thanks for slipping by, and enjoy your stay on this chaotic side of tumblr called nash's blog!

last updated 12/1/24

s!dream dividers by @/sister-lucifer. other userboxes except for last 7 not mine

[zealiketea]

Okokokokoko since we are mutuals now I’m guessing that gives me perms to infodump to you about… hmm lemme spin the wheel…

The Kimona ship from Scott Pilgrim, nice.

Oookokokokok so idk I’d you’ve ever engaged with SP but the premise isn’t too too important here, hell it actually hinders the ship. But what you do need to know are the two ship candidates.

Ramona Flowers: the archetype of the “magic pixie dream girl” flipped onto its head. She’s mysterious and weird and kinda flighty. Dyes her hair every week or so, and has seven vindictive “evil exes" who she kinda had a part in making evil. She is very troubled, having a complex and unpleasant past of flings and her abandoning people and shitty decisions. Chronically runs away from what she loves, always. At the first sign of hardship she picks it up and runs, almost never looking back. It’s kinda been her thing for years.

Kim Pine: Moody punk rock girl with a heavy attitude and a facade of rage and misanthropy. Ever since high school she’s been a fairly reserved and spiky person. That is until Scott Pilgrim built up trust and a friendship with her and through his pure endearing dorkiness was able to tear down her walls and get her to be true to her feelings. Eventually he got to be with her and was essentially her first boyfriend during high school. Though it all came crashing down, as he moved away without even telling her. She only found out about his move through a mutual friend. He left without another word to her, basically leaving her in the dust. And she has never gotten over that, every time she has tried to reach out and be open the universe has essentially punished her for it. Has deep abandonment issues STILL about the whole affair, girl hasn’t gotten over it in the last 7 years.

Now these two, put together, have incredible results. I hope you can see that from what I’ve told you about them. They of course both have baggage they need to unpack together, that’s obvious, but on a deeper level their traumas simaltaniously repell and attract one another. Kim is afraid of being ran away from again and hurt again, Ramona constantly runs away from her problems and from what she loves. In order for these two to be together, Kim needs to push herself to try and reach out and love someone again and Ramona needs to keep herself from running away or else Kim will just shatter into pieces. But for some reason, their personalities just mesh so well together that it works, as Ramona is the only person Kim ever feels like she can open up to ever. During the comics Kim opens up about her deepest feelings with Ramona, in the show she’s the only one that Kim tells about her dating Scott in high school. Kim just is always open with Ramona and Ramona always validates her feelings back. God these two!! I love them so much

Also in the comics they do this which is worth noting.

I love Scott pilgrim btw 10/10 ship

[analogboii]

tumblr.com/analogboii/746259671902535680

What's bishops castle? Please tell me about it!

GJSKDK GOD YES. I WILL ALWAYS TALK ABOUT THE INSANITY THAT'S BISHOP'S CASTLE 🗣️🗣️🗣️

okokok

this is a "castle" that currently resides in Rye, Colorado.

So, Jim Bishop bought some land way back when. He was 15 and saved up 450 bucks from various jobs. His parents used his money to buy it for him (cause he was 15, so he couldn't legally purchase land yet). Originally, he just built a cabin with his dad. But one day, motherfucker just woke up with a "message from God" that told him to build a castle. and he was just like "alright bet" and just started building one. Mind you, this guy has NO IDEA how to build a castle (I mean, who tf does these days) and just starts slapping rocks/slabs and concrete together.

Not only is he doing this, but he's primarily doing this BY HIMSELF. No professional team of contractors or construction workers, no. Its mostly just HIM fueled by "the spirit of god". Sure, different family members helped over time here and there, but it was mostly solo work. People would say they'd help them flake out, but he didn't care. He kept going bc he was fully convinced that this is why god sent him to this plane of existence. To build this castle.

that being said, he OBSESSED over this. this was the reason he got up in the morning. the first thing he thought about when he woke up and the last thing he thought about before going to bed. it consumed his life.

tragedy struck in the 80s when his four year old son died. they had been taking out the trunk of a tree. some of the roots were giving trouble so he sent his FOUR YEAR OLD SON to cut the roots. only for the trunk to end up falling on top of him and squashing him.

you'd think that something like that would fuck you up and you'd stop, right? not Jim. he kept going. later when asked why he had kept going he just "well, what else am I gonna do? he loved the place!"

the website leaves this part out, but you can find articles and interviews about it. the website is VERY tailored to make Jim seem more sane than he is.

after this, a lot of his relationships strained. some family and friends stopped talking to him. some were wary. some tried to get him to stop, but he just kept saying that god was telling him this is what he needed to do. this was his calling.

as it got bigger over the years, people started to come and see it.

some people told him he should charge to see it, but growing up with not a lot of money and not being able to do things bc of that, he was determined to keep it free, but it does have a donation box. between that and the gift shop, they are primarily what keep this place running. they are also a registered non profit charity as well. they donate quite a bit to newborn heart surgeries.

tbh, it's a really insanely impressive the way it looks. it's got a grand ballroom and several other rooms. there isn't running water as it's not a functioning castle and still isn't technically finished, but to say it got this far as a solo man project is insane. it took 40ish years to get to this point.

like this shit even has stained glass

now Jim Bishop is old as shit so he's unable to keep building on it. it's still considered under construction and sometimes he'll hire friends or family to build on it. he spends his days sitting outside of it, ranting about the government.

THIS MAN HATES THE GOVERNMENT BY THE WAY (as he should). like I remember one of the times I went, he was YELLING about shit. people will go to just rile him up cause this man will POP OFF. he also has a lot of anti government signs around his property as well.

also, colorado can frequently have fire bans because it can get incredibly dry in the summers. he's got signs about those too. he's also got your disclaimers and such as well.

oh the signs are all handmade, btw.

there are more signs, but Tumblr is only allowing me so many photos.

during the two years I lived in Colorado, I went eight times. I would've went more if I could've. the over all energy from there is insane. love talking and listening to Jim's insane rants, his grandkids sometimes run the gift shop and they're always nice. this man is absolutely batshit but we got a really cool castle out of it. he also prides himself and calls it "a working class made attraction for the working class" if you're ever in Colorado, especially near Rye, go visit it. the drive up there is beautiful, the place is stunning, and it's a free attraction, so definitely worth it.

tho if you go, be careful. shit gets a little rickety once you hit the third floor. walk carefully and don't even think about running. you can go even higher as there are walk ways and stuff around the outside and to the towers. there are signs when you reach this point that warn you to progress as your own risk (I'd post it if I could stuff more pics in here). I've never reached the very top bc I'm so scared of heights but I want to be able to do it one day. i haven't been in a few years because I moved, but hell yeah I'd go again.

I could talk more about it but this is already insanely long. definitely look into it, it's so worth it. and thank you for asking so I can unleash this verbal vomit 🙏

ALSO YES. THE DRAGON HEAD CAN BREATHE FIRE 🔥🐲🔥🐲