#players wolf entertainment

[pintsofguinnesmakeyoustrong]

saw except jigsaw and his apprentices look like this

[catchastarorten]

—“This one’s mine.”

Pairing: Hwang Jun-ho x VIP!fem!reader

Summary: after being pestered by your own brother, you agreed to accompany him to the island to watch the games, only to find yourself helping a waiter—Jun-ho—who was being eyed by a creepy panther-masked VIP.

Warnings: your sarcasm, mentions of death/violence in Glass Bridge, your brother is a VIP, brother & sister bickering/you put him in his place because he's being annoying, the VIPs—panther masked VIP being a weirdo, you save Jun-ho tho, English isn’t my first language, mistakes should be present, not proofread, sorry!

Word count: ~ 2.6k

The golden fox mask felt heavy on your face, pressing against your skin in a way that made you want to rip it off and toss it across the room. But that would be improper, wouldn’t it? A VIP must maintain decorum. At least, that’s what your insufferable little brother kept reminding you.

Speaking of him, he was sitting beside you, his wolf mask barely concealing the delighted smirk on his face as he leaned forward, watching the players stumble and fall to their deaths on the Glass Bridge. He laughed—actually laughed—when a man made the wrong choice out of the two and jumped, crashing through the wrong glass panel, screaming all the way down.

You sighed, swirling the drink in your glass, watching the liquid catch the dim light. It was infinitely more interesting than the so-called “game” before you.

How had you let brother dearest drag you here? Oh, right. He had whined and pouted and gone on and on about how you never did anything fun with him. You had rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they hadn’t gotten stuck in your skull, but against your better judgment, you agreed.

And now here you were, surrounded by a bunch of snobby men—your presence wasn’t nearly enough to balance out the testosterone levels—draped in velvet robes, sipping on the finest liquor, and betting on desperate people fighting for their lives.

You suppressed a yawn.

“This is so much better than another charity gala, isn’t it?” your brother drawled, nudging your arm. “You have to admit, this is real entertainment.”

“Yeah, watching poor people die really warms the heart,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be such a bore, sis,” he said, rolling his eyes. “This is tradition. You should be honored to be here.”

Oh, you were honored, alright. Honored that your parents left everything to him, making sure he had enough money to play dress-up with his rich little friends while you had to fight for your own wealth. Not that you needed their inheritance, but the principle of it still burned. He got to be the spoiled prince while you had to claw your way up in the world. And now here he was, wasting it all on cheap thrills.

The Glass Bridge game was nearing midway. The players were hesitating, trying to strategize their way across. The VIPs around you were buzzing with excitement, shouting bets, clapping, drinking like it was the biggest sports event of the decade. But all you saw were walking corpses, their fear so thick in the air it nearly masked the expensive cologne in the room.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the burn coat your throat.

“At least pretend like you’re having fun,” your brother whined. “People are gonna think you’re some kind of a… prude.”

“Oh no.” you responded mockingly.

He huffed, crossing his arms like a petulant child. If there was one thing he hated, it was not getting his way. You could practically hear the gears turning in his spoiled little mind, trying to come up with a way to make you enjoy this, but his thoughts were interrupted when the other VIPs erupted into cheers and groans. You just exhaled through your nose, staring at the mess.

It was the players on the glass bridge, arguing, too afraid to jump. One shoved another forward, out of desperation or malice. The man screamed as he plunged to his death.

“Ugh, finally,” your brother muttered. “I hate when they hesitate. Just jump, you cowards!”

You turned your head slightly, studying him. Did he even realize how pathetic he sounded? Lounging in a silk robe, sneering at people who had nothing? He wouldn’t last a minute in their position.

“You should play,” you mused, tilting your head. “Next year.”

He snorted. “Please, I would dominate these games.”

You smiled behind your mask. “Would you?”

Your brother scoffed. “You doubt me?”

“I know you,” you said. “And you wouldn’t make it past the first round.”

He looked genuinely offended. “I’d make it to the finals, at least.”

You leaned in, voice dropping. “Tell you what. If you join next year, I’ll bet against you. Just to make it interesting.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath. But you saw it—the flicker of doubt, of fear. As much as he enjoyed watching, he knew very well he would never survive playing.

And that? That was the only entertaining thing you’d seen all night.

A moment later, your eyes flicked toward the Panther-masked VIP, whose frustration over losing a bet had quickly turned into something much more unpleasant. His focus had shifted from the game to the waiter standing stiffly beside him—a waiter who, you observed, wasn’t moving quite like the other servers.

You weren’t an idiot. The way that waiter hesitated when he was called, the way his shoulders were a little too tense, the way his hands remained perfectly still as if not used to serving—it all screamed of someone who didn’t belong.

That was because he wasn’t really a waiter, it was Jun-ho disguised as one, though you didn’t know that. He had taken down one of the servers moments before the VIPs arrived on the island.

And now, the Panther-masked VIP was ordering him to sit beside him and take off his mask.

Jun-ho—recognizing the sharpness in his tone—tried to resist, his voice calm. “I need to serve the other guests, sir.”

The Panther VIP scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, come now, the others won’t mind if I keep this one for myself, will they?”

A chorus of laughter and amusement rippled through the room, the other VIPs agreeing without a care—“he’s all yours!” one of them laughed. Your brother even chuckled beside you, raising his glass as if this was all just another part of the entertainment.

You, however, did not find it amusing.

Before Jun-ho could be forced into something he clearly wanted no part of, you lazily raised your hand and gestured toward your glass.

“I need a refill,” you said smoothly.

Jun-ho’s eyes darted toward you, wary but sharp, understanding immediately that you were giving him an out.

Your brother groaned, shifting beside you. “Come on, sis, let him have his fun—”

Your hand shot out, swatting him hard against his arm before he could finish his whining.

He yelped, rubbing his arm. “Ow! What the—?”

“Shut up.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, but the look you gave him through your golden fox mask was enough to make him think better of it. He slumped back into the couch with a huff, grumbling under his breath.

The Panther-masked VIP tsked in annoyance but didn’t say more as Jun-ho bowed his head slightly and stepped away from him, making his way toward you. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease, if only slightly.

As he reached your couch, he carefully took your glass and poured you another drink, his movements slow and precise. Up close, you could see the way his jaw was set tight, his eyes flickering with restraint.

You leaned in slightly as he finished pouring. “You okay?” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Jun-ho hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding once. “Thank you,” he said quietly, placing your glass back into your hand.

You didn’t reply, just took a slow sip while he stood beside the couch you sat on.

However, the weight of the Panther-masked VIP’s stare was suffocating. You didn’t even have to look to know that he was still watching Jun-ho like a predator eyeing its next meal.

Annoyed, you turned your head ever so slightly, locking eyes with him through your golden fox mask. You raised your glass in a slow, mocking salute before downing the rest of your drink in one smooth motion.

The message was clear: Back off.

Unfortunately, subtlety was wasted on men like him.

“Come back here,” the Panther VIP drawled, waving his fingers in a lazy command at Jun-ho.

Jun-ho’s grip on the bottle in his hands tightened slightly, his body as still as a statue. It was subtle, but you caught it. He didn’t want to go back over there.

So, before he could even think about stepping forward, you reached out and grabbed his forearm, holding him in place. Your fingers pressed firmly against the fabric of his uniform—a silent message that he could stay with you.

You sat up straighter, your voice cutting through the noise.

“This one’s mine.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Jun-ho stiffened beside you, clearly taken aback. You didn’t mean it in the way it sounded—he wasn’t a possession. But these men only responded to power plays, and if that was the language they spoke, then fine. You’d speak it fluently.

Your brother let out a low whistle beside you, his amusement clear. “Ohhh, big sis is getting bold.”

You didn’t even hesitate—your palm struck his arm again with a sharp thwack.

“Ow!” he rubbed where you smacked him.

“Shut up,” you muttered, leveling him with a glare. “If you don’t stop embarrassing yourself, I’ll give you a real beating in front of all these people.”

He grumbled something under his breath, soothing his arm, but he didn’t push it further.

The Panther VIP, however, was not so easily prevented. “Come now,” he chuckled, though there was irritation beneath his voice. “You can’t hoard all the fun.”

“Sure, I can,” you replied dryly.

A few of the other VIPs laughed at that, enjoying the exchange. The Panther VIP let out a breath through his nose, clearly displeased, but he wasn’t about to pick a fight with another VIP. That was the unspoken rule—annoyance was fine, but outright challenging each other was bad form.

Jun-ho turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at you. You met his eyes for a brief second, and then you stood up, keeping your grip on him firm.

“We’re leaving,” you announced.

Your brother groaned. “What? Where are you going?”

You didn’t even look at him as you responded, voice utterly monotone. “Somewhere that isn’t here.”

More amusement rippled through the other VIPs, some watching with interest, others indifferent as they returned their attention to the game. But as you turned to leave, you felt it—that silent, looming presence watching you.

The Frontman.

He didn’t say a word, didn’t move to stop you. He simply observed, his masked face unreadable.

You met his gaze for a long moment before turning away, leading Jun-ho out of the room. No one stopped you. No one dared to stop you.

And just like that, you stole the only honest man in the room away from the wolves.

The moment you got him alone into a dimly-lit, empty room, you could feel the tension radiating off of him. Jun-ho wasn’t stupid—he knew he didn’t belong here, and he knew that you knew. His shoulders were taut, his breath controlled but just a little too shallow, and his hand was subtly reaching for something. A gun, maybe. A knife. Whatever he had managed to smuggle in.

You raised your hands slowly, showing you had no weapon, no ill intent. “Relax,” you said, your voice calm, softer even. You let go of his arm, stepping back to give him space. “I’m not going to turn you in… or whatever you’re thinking right now.”

Jun-ho’s sharp eyes flickered with suspicion. “And why should I believe that?”

“Because if I was planning to sell you out, I would’ve done it back there.” you tilted your head slightly, crossing your arms loosely. “Would’ve let that old man have his fun.” you said with a hint of distaste at the thought.

That gave him pause. He studied you, his gaze flickering over your golden fox mask, as if trying to gauge whether you were lying, or just the need to understand why a supposed VIP was helping him. You didn’t blame him for being on edge. This entire place was a slaughterhouse dressed up in gold. If you were in his position, you wouldn’t trust anyone either.

“You don’t belong here,” you stated plainly, watching for his reaction.

“And neither do you.”

That actually made you laugh, just a short, soft chuckle. “You’re not wrong.”

He hesitated. Maybe because your mask didn’t hold the same predatory amusement as the others. His fingers twitched, like he was still deciding whether to draw his weapon, but then he let out a slow breath.

You sighed too and gestured toward the door. “You should go. Before someone actually does come looking for you.”

Jun-ho didn’t move right away. He just stood there, looking at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle. And for a brief moment, you could tell—he wanted to ask.

Who are you?

Why are you helping me?

What’s under the mask?

But he didn’t ask. He just gave you a small nod before slipping out the door, disappearing like a shadow. You shut the door.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders as you turned back toward the empty room. Not even a minute later, a knock came at the door. You raised an eyebrow, opening the door, meeting the presence of a square-masked guard, who stepped inside.

“The Frontman sent me to check on you,” the guard said, his voice hollow under the mask. “Where’s the waiter?”

You gave him a blank look. “What waiter?”

The guard straightened. “The waiter you left with.”

You tilted your head, voice dry. “Oh. Him.” you shrugged lazily. “I got bored. Told him to get lost.”

The square guard didn’t buy it. “Where did he go?”

You sighed, as if this was the most exhausting conversation of your life. “Am I his babysitter?”

The guard didn’t move. He was pushing. You didn’t like being pushed.

So you took a slow step forward, closing the space between you and the guard. He stood his ground, but you could feel the slight hesitation in his stance as you slowly backed him up against the wall.

When his back hit the surface, the shift in atmosphere was instant. You weren’t loud. You weren’t aggressive. But the weight of your presence—the empty, unreadable calm of someone who knew how to lie—was enough to make the guard tense.

You tilted your head slightly, a slow, empty smile forming under your mask. “What exactly are you suggesting?” you murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That I’m hiding something?”

The square guard stiffened.

“Because that would be a very bold accusation to make against a VIP,” you continued, voice dropping to something almost sickly sweet. “And you wouldn’t want to insult a guest, would you?”

There it was—the slight shift in his posture, the hesitation and hint of nervousness.

“I—”

You stepped back, your fake smile still in place. “Good talk,” you said dryly, dusting off your robe like this was nothing more than an inconvenience. “Tell the Frontman to send someone more competent next time.”

The square guard didn’t argue, he just quickly stepped away from the wall, stiffly nodding before leaving the room without another word.

You sighed as the door shut behind him, rubbing a hand against the side of your neck.

This whole thing had been a drag, but at least you’d managed to do one decent thing tonight.

[aventurineswife]

So, reader decided to play mouthwashing due to its positive reviews and how it became popular enough to gain fandom. Maybe Ratio, Aventurine, Kafka, Blade, Silver Wolf, Jing Yuan and Jade decided to watch reader as they play? How would they react to this game's plot, it's characters and opinions?

HSR Characters Reaction On Mouthwashing

Tags: Kafka x Reader, Silver Wolf x Reader, Blade X Reader, Psychological Horror(not the actual fic but the game), Character Study, Game Reactions, Manipulation, Redemption, Survival, Dark Themes, Self-Destruction, Fractured Minds, Immortality.

Warnings: Strong Language, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Mental Health Issues, Psychological and Emotional Distress, Dark Themes of Suffering and Redemption, Self-Harm (Implied, Related to Destruction and Pain), Death and Death Imagery.

A/N: I haven't fully watched the whole gameplay, so this might a bit ooc but I do know some basics of what happened and all I gotta say is: I hate Jimbo‼️🧍‍♀️ also shortened this to three characters because tags won't take the others and I probably would've to write each characters individually for their reactions on each characters so sorry if this disappoints you :')

Kafka lounged gracefully on a velvet chair, her fingers tracing the rim of a crystal goblet filled with a dark, undisturbed liquid. The soft glow of the screen reflected off her red wine-colored hair as she observed the game unfolding before her. Mouthwashing, a psychological horror game that had garnered significant attention, was the latest entertainment distraction.

The game's plot piqued her interest immediately—stranded in space with dwindling supplies, a mutilated captain, and a fractured crew. Kafka found the dynamics between the characters fascinating. The tension, the fractured relationships, and the slow unraveling of sanity… it was like watching a perfectly woven web fall apart. She couldn’t help but admire how the developers had manipulated the player into becoming complicit in the escalating violence.

Her eyes narrowed at the unraveling storylines. "So, it’s a game of power and survival," she mused, sipping from her glass. "But with a touch of madness, I wonder if the creators intended to turn the player into the true villain. The emotions on display—guilt, betrayal, desperation—can only lead to one outcome: unraveling."

Kafka's attention shifted to the player’s choices. The tension between the crew members, the twisted relationships, and the manipulation—it felt familiar. She was a master of persuasion, a manipulator of emotions, but this game was something different. It made her wonder how the player would handle the sense of culpability for the crew’s inevitable downfall.

"I suppose," she mused, "this is what makes games like this addictive—the slow collapse, the control one has over others... It’s almost poetic, in a sense." She couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen as the final moments played out. Jimmy’s tragic end, believing he had redeemed himself by placing Curly in the cryopod, was something Kafka could relate to—a misguided belief in redemption after irreversible actions.

Turning her attention back to her glass, she smiled softly. "I would have handled it differently, of course. But I suppose that’s the beauty of these games—they allow us to explore paths we’d never dare take in reality."

Silver Wolf sat cross-legged on a low sofa, her sharp gaze fixed on the screen as the game's opening scene began. Her fingers twitched in a restless, almost instinctive motion—an impulse to hack, to break the system and rewrite the story as she often did. But she forced herself to focus, her curiosity about the game's mechanics outweighing her usual inclination to manipulate.

The dark and gritty atmosphere of Mouthwashing quickly drew her in. The world-building was minimal, but what Silver Wolf found compelling was how the game subtly forced players into moral corners with each choice. The crew’s personalities were rich with flaws, and the tension between them was palpable. Her fingers flexed, itching to dive deeper into the psychological undercurrents, analyzing each interaction like a puzzle waiting to be solved.

"Not bad," Silver Wolf muttered, studying the way the plot twisted and turned with each new revelation. The complexity of the relationships, particularly Jimmy's unraveling sanity, fascinated her. "It’s like hacking a system, but instead of codes, it’s the characters' minds. The more you understand them, the more control you have over the outcome."

She watched intently as the player made choices, her eyes narrowing when the characters’ fates grew darker. “Hmph, some people just can't handle the game. They don’t see the bigger picture. It’s all about the challenge, about beating the odds. It’s not just survival—it’s about making it through with your mind intact. The chaos is part of the fun.”

Silver Wolf tilted her head as she saw Jimmy make his fatal choices, his mental state breaking down under the weight of guilt and fear. "That's one way to go out," she muttered. "Pathetic, really. I would’ve used that moment to break free, to rewrite the whole scenario. But I suppose that's why it's not me playing."

She smirked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Still, I can appreciate the game's challenge. It's not about winning, it's about seeing just how far you can push the boundaries before it all collapses. Just like the game of life." Her fingers idly tapped against her knee. "Maybe I’ll try a new strategy next time."

Blade stood motionless in the shadows, his piercing eyes fixed on the screen as Mouthwashing unfolded before him. The plot resonated in ways that few things did—survival at any cost, fractured relationships, and a constant drive toward self-destruction. His cracked sword, an eternal symbol of his fractured existence, almost felt lighter as he watched the characters’ struggles.

The captain, Curly, with his tragic fate, reminded Blade of his own cursed immortality. Mutilated, unable to speak or act, yet still alive—trapped in a state of perpetual suffering. Blade’s gaze lingered on the screen, his mind replaying his own endless cycle of death and rebirth. He saw in Curly a reflection of his own fate: an unending existence that could only end in violence and ruin.

"What a pitiful display," Blade muttered, his voice low and cold. "Surviving only to slowly lose everything—your sanity, your humanity… That’s what this game is, isn’t it? A slow descent into madness, with no way out."

He watched as the crew's relationships deteriorated, one by one. Jimmy’s spiral into madness, his attempts at redemption, and the eventual tragic end... it all felt too familiar to Blade. "How weak," he whispered, his fingers twitching at his side. "No honor, no purpose. Just mindless survival."

Yet, there was something in Jimmy's desperate final act that resonated with Blade. The desire to find release, to end it all after causing so much destruction. It was the same goal Blade had sought for so long: an end to the suffering, an escape from the endless pain of immortality.

As the game neared its conclusion, Blade’s eyes narrowed. "They think they can redeem themselves," he mused. "But redemption is a lie. There is only the inevitable conclusion—endless destruction." His hand brushed the hilt of his broken sword. "This is the true path. There is no escaping it."

The game ended, and Blade remained silent, his expression unreadable. "A fitting end," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But not my end."

[songoftrillium]

Coming this winter:

Book 1: Cliath

In 1992, White Wolf Publishing released the first edition of Werewolf: the Apocalypse to the public. Throughout the 1990s, it rapidly grew to become one of the most played role-playing games of all time, and this persisted well into the noughties when the series concluded with the Revised (3rd) edition.

Its a game that speaks to the core fears many of us hold about the uncertainty of the future. Of corporations harming the world to meet their profit margins, of everyday people whose homes and lives are destroyed by disasters caused by those corporations or by storms that wouldn't have been so severe even a decade before. Of politicians who sell agencies to those who pay them the most to make the most vulnerable groups in society even more vulnerable. Of people who don't even have that. It looks you all in the eyes and asks you to be enraged. It asks you to care while handing you the tools to do something about it. Then, you get to work. You don't just blow up the factories; you empower the little guy, heal communities, and confront the stagnant society that you've become a part of, and you have to be responsible custodians of the greater world around you while not trying to be consumed by the very darkness you fight against. It was as intense as it was touching, heartbreaking, and entertaining. At times its just as absurd (and nuanced) as real life.

It was revolutionary at the time for the space it held at the tabletop. Werewolf was the first tabletop roleplaying game ever made that defaulted to using feminine pronouns in all Player and Storyteller interactions, as well as the default pronouns of the Garou in its first three editions. For its many flaws, it saw itself as the first tabletop roleplaying game that held any space for Indigenous groups. It made activism a core theme of the game itself, and would conclude its books with a list of related real-world demonstrations where the players can get involved in protecting the world around them, just like the werewolves they represent at the tabletop.

The Garou have intricate and multi-layered cultures from their written language to their oral histories, the way they dress, and the ways they manifest across editions were presented with very little overlap when it comes to the multiple facets across their society, leading to a rich history and complex societies for Storytellers to weave chronicles together for their troupes.

Dark Surrealism Awaits

The World of Darkness is implied to exist just beneath a facade that all others take for granted as simply being a world gone wrong. Can you feel it? In a world of burning forests, flash floods, social inequality and seemingly worse things emerging day after day — a world where everything feels wrong and nothing in the world feels right — you are not alone.

The universe is itself a living organism, thrashing like a panicked animal at the biting darkness, and we, the Gaians, are those who join the fight to protect it. You are one of Gaia’s chosen warriors, about to experience your First Change, and become swept into a world of ancient warriors and sacred purpose.

We monsters ask nothing of you—other than to join us.

Book 1: Cliath includes • Over 300 fully annotated pages with cross-referencing and book citations for Storytellers to delve into the deeper lore of WtA • Cross-edition compatible character creation rules for Fifth edition and legacy games • Comprehensive information on the histories, societies, and politics of over 20 Tribes • Laws, Tenets, traditions and rites for 3 new factions • Downtime and Questing mechanics • Detailed breed information and roleplay tips on how to play a wolf • Full sept breakdowns including roles and duties • Over 600 level 1-3 Gifts in a whole new presentation • 7 New Patrons • New Renown system and detailed ranking info • Comprehensive character creation rules • Dozens of story seeds to get your players started • A localized Pacific Northwest setting with Sept, legends, and over 20 new NPCs • Citable information on first changes and rites of passage

Read our introductory comic, Cracking the Bone

Read our latest project update here

[princess-prettyboy]

i think it’s cool when you make a roll in a ttrpg and almost want to fail

two examples

last night my character drank a weird alcoholic bug and had to make a roll to resist blowing chunks. she rolled very high and impressed a bunch of dwarves, which was awesome! but i would have been equally entertained if i rolled very low instead and made a fool of myself. both results lead to fun consequences.

a few months ago i was running my own campaign. the player characters had to navigate through a forest, and were at risk of getting lost or running into danger. they partially succeeded, but a minor failure led to them getting followed by a talking wolf, who asked them to take care of a problem in exchange for correcting their lost progress. they ended up succeeding on their next attempts to escape, but more failures would have meant more and cooler stuff!

[themindcastlesystem]

Another crackpot "Project: Eden's Garden" theory

(Sunny, they/she) hi again it's your girl I'm going insane again so I'm back with another theory

NOTE: Unlike my chapter 2 theory, which is more cohesive and at least has some Biblical parallels and narrative themes to back it up, this theory is COMPLETE speculation based off of only a few observations - so keep that in mind while reading.

THE THEORY

So uh. Cassidy sus. *points at her* amogus! amogus!

For real, though. Does anyone else get the feeling that she's a bit... out of touch, emotionally? Or that she's the most fourth-wall-breaky of the group, like she keeps feeding her jokes and references to some sort of viewer (whether the player or the literal broadcast viewers in-universe)?

This could most definitely be just a comic relief thing. Or maybe a "streamer" thing, since that's what she's known for - and streamers are notorious for not being totally authentic, especially when they're in front of an audience. It's not like half of their audience really cares about how they feel, or if they're having a bad day - they want entertainment. I could see a character arc where Cassidy becomes a bit more expressive and authentic with her emotions across the rest of the game, learning to let her actual feelings show instead of masking her fear/sadness with smiles and jokes. I would love an arc like this in a DR fangame.

But, personally, I have other suspicions. There's a few pieces of "evidence" that make me suspect her of being the mastermind (quote marks because it's not conclusive and could be interpreted in other ways). I know there might not be a traditional "mastermind" in P:EG, especially since the creators said not to expect canon DR tropes, but just take "mastermind" to mean someone in the main cast that's working with Tozu/Mara/any other killing game organizers, whether willingly or under duress.

THE "EVIDENCE"

She's a streamer. As I said, this could explain why she seems so inauthentic and that's that - but that is ignoring the tangible benefit that her platform would have for the masterminds if they decided to use it. She easily has the biggest live following of the group - while there are other individuals with mass followings, like Wenona (who runs a huge business) and Kai (who has a ton of social media followers), Cassidy's thing is livestreaming. This killing game is being livestreamed. And if the killing game organizers are broadcasting it, it would make total sense for them to take advantage of the Ultimate Pro Gamer's live audience - and this would be easier to do if she was in on it, rather than if they had to hack her account to get a stream going or something.

Her actions during chapter 1. The two most important things she does are: a) kick down everyone's doors so they're forced to leave their dorms, and b) organize the game tournament during which a murder happens. The reason she says she did this was to get people to be more active and do something fun with each other, to boost their spirits. But it is possible that she wanted to force people to be out and about so that there would be more chances for people to kill each other - and/or to keep things more entertaining for the viewers (similar to how she feeds jokes/references to the camera). There is also potentially an argument that she might want to get people to trust each other in a less overt way than someone like Wolfgang or Diana - by getting them to let their guards down. With people's guards down, it becomes easier for a wolf in sheep's clothing to strike. (Hahaha get it because-- *gets shot*) You could even say that everyone's caught in her spider's web and they don't even realize it. (Hahaha get it because-- *double gunshot*)

This fucking picture. (Everything before this was already speculation, but this is EVEN MORE SPECULATIVE!) I have no idea what it means, and I know it was Diana that Wolfgang hallucinated as being his mother when he was in the boiler room, but Cassidy looks even more like her. Like, other than her eye color, she has the facial proportions of Wolfgang's dad and the eyes/hair of his mom. (Haha your mom.) Maybe they're siblings/half-siblings, I don't know. But it does strike me that Wolfgang's last words were "I won't stop until the world knows me as--!" before he died. Which... could mean he knows who the mastermind is, or has some involvement with the killing game, or maybe his parents did and he knows about it ("like father, like son..."). I have no clue, this is just me guessing based off of a facial similarity and two lines of dialogue lmfao.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

I don't know. Try again later.

Uh, but if I had to come up with some sort of potential motive for her to be involved - assuming she's a willing participant and has some sort of ideological or personal motive - then... here goes.

The first thing that comes to mind is something Damon says multiple times in the prologue: "Ultimates are charged with the betterment of society." And, well, he thinks everyone's doing a shit job - except for maybe Wenona, because she's a billionaire and runs a big business that feeds people. Basically everyone else, he thinks is totally useless.

Well... I can see a way that Cassidy might feel similarly, but in sort of a reverse way. She's a streamer and a pro gamer with a huge audience - and so far, she actually seems like the least harmful popular figure in the group. Compare her to Kai Monteago - who's a total dunce and who seems to really only care about his own fame when it comes to his talent. Or Wenona - who's a billionaire, a wealth hoarder whose profile literally says she owns over 90% of the agriculture industry and she dislikes unions.

We don't really know anything about Cassidy's platform (that I can immediately remember) other than "she's a gamer" and "they're called Cassidy's Comrades" - but even in just that, there's already communist theming with the "comrade" joke. Though that could just be a "haha Soviet Russia" joke and nothing deeper, I will also point out that one thing streamers are known for doing is charity streams - oftentimes long ones that become widely talked about because someone decided to stay on stream for 24 hours straight to raise money for a charitable cause. Also, because of the live nature of streamers' relationships with their fandoms, it's much more common than other industries for streamers to be publicly put on blast for things like microaggressions or giving money to bad people - something that could easily influence someone like Cassidy. What is a killing game broadcast, but a livestream where all these Ultimates are put on blast - with their first murder motive being cryptic blackmail about some of the worst things they've done?

In my "Cassidy = mastermind" hypothetical, where Damon's hatred of the Ultimate title and the people who have it comes largely from his ego and distrust of others in general, Cassidy could hate the Ultimate title and the people who have it because she thinks they're not doing enough to help others. Ultimates have been charged with the betterment of society, and they're failing. In this hypothetical, Cassidy also puts herself above others and distrusts others - but expresses it very differently from Damon. Surprisingly, much more pessimistically, given the whole murder game and all.

Well - that's if I'm right. I'm probably not. But it's a fun thought, right?

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Six - Blood and bonds

☆☆☆

The demons of Hell were all excited as they cheered. Whatever this game was, it was clearly a big deal. You had no idea what was happening. For your own comfort, you chose to watch Dream. Matthew is perched up above you. Morpheus and Lucifer stood facing one another.

He had to win. There was more than his helm on the line now. Dream had sworn to himself he would protect you. Hell could not have you.

Choronzon stood on the balcony with the helmet in his hand. Lucifer and Morpheus stood on either side of him.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, for your entertainment and delectation, a formal challenge."

The demons cheer.

"The challenger is Dream. Once the master of the Realm of Sleep."

The demons boo.

Morpheus turns slowly and looks at you. You look back at him. He steps away from the balcony and makes his way toward you while Choronzon announces Lucifer as the other player. The demons cheer for their ruler.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly.

"Fine." You reply shortly.

"I will not let Hell have you."

Your gaze on him softens. "You don't have to make a fuss of me. Me for the helm was probably a good deal. It must be important to you if you were willing to come to Hell for it."

"I would not trade you in this life or any other. You are my soulmate, and you shall come back to the Dreaming with me." He speaks softly. "If anything happens to me, take my sand and use it."

"No. No. Don't say that."

"Promise me," he says.

You shake your head. You find yourself reaching out and grabbing his hand. "You can't leave me. You're my only way out."

"My sand will work for you."

"I don't care about the sand. I... I just need you to be okay. Please. Don't leave me."

"Morpheus, am I interrupting a premlinary of some kind?" Lucifer asks.

"Just a little pre-game pep talk." You say. "Your majesty." You bow your head. "We came for the helm, and we're not leaving without it," you talk more to Morpheus now.

He looks at you again silently.

"We shall see," Lucifer says, amused.

You let go of his hand, and Morpheus flexes his hand slightly. He steps away from you, though reluctantly. He doesn't like the look of fear in your eyes.

He wants to keep you safe. He needs to secure your safety. You need to come back to the Dreaming with him.

"As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move." Lucifer says.

"Very well. Make your move."

You stand there with baited breath as you watch the pair of them. Your eyes linger on the Devil. There was so much at risk here.

"I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler."

You turn your eyes to Morpheus.

"I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing."

Lucifer grunts as they receive a wound through their body. That's the first hit. Morpheus drew blood from Lucifer. You watch carefully for the next move.

"I am a serpent. Horse-biting... poison-toothed."

Your eyes are drawn to Morpheus as the poison floods his veins. His breaths come out in short, ragged puffs. You hadn't realised how dangerous and severe this game was. This was crazy.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping."

The poison leaves his body. Lucifer receives three long slashes across the face. More blood is drawn.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying."

Morpheus falls to his knees as his flesh appears to be eaten away. You stare in horror. Was he going to die playing this? This was horrible.

"I am a world." He says slowly. "Space-floating, life-nurturing."

His body heals. You look at him in awe. He is still able to play. You smile softly.

"I am a nova." Lucifer says. "All-exploding, planet-cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground, his flesh scorched. That was a big hit. You can't stand this anymore. Lucifer is doing mkre damage to him, and it's starting to make you feel sick.

His eyes flick to you. He can see the worry glistening in your eyes. "I am a universe." He whispers weakly. "All things encompassing, all life embracing."

You smile softly. Perhaps there is much more to this man than you're aware of. Perhaps it isn't quite fair to judge him so quickly.

"I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus goes cold. He lays there, unable to lift his head. His breathing is shallow. This is the worst he's looked all game. What is he supposed to do now?

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

He tries to move, but he can't. You can't help yourself anymore. You rush over to him and touch him gently. "Get up," you whisper. He doesn't move. He shivers under your hands, and for a moment, you think this is it.

"Come on," you say softly. "Say something. Anything. You have to win, remember? You have to win for me."

He looks up at you through his lashes. His breath is quiet and shaky. He looks like he's dying.

"Still with us, Dream?" Lucifer asks, amused by this display.

"He is! And it's his move, Your Majesty." You say, glancing up at Lucifer. You turn back to Dream. "Come on. There has to be something."

"There are no more moves." Lucifer states. "What can survive the anti-life?"

You continue to caress his face gently. He stares at you through dark eyes.

"You can survive the anti-life," you whisper. "Dreams can survive anything. I dreamt of you. Every night. While I was locked away in my room with nothing else left, I had you. All that time, you were locked away under the house, and I didn't know, but I felt you. I had you in my dreams, and that was enough."

Your words strike something in him. He had no idea you had been dreaming about him. All that time, and he had no idea he was able to get through to you. Unintentionally, but still. You had him.

"I... am..." Morpheus gets up on his knees. You keep a hand on his back as you watch him. He looks up at Lucifer. "Hope."

Morpheus rises to his feet.

"Hope." Lucifer speaks softly.

You smile softly as you look up at him.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus asks. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer knows they have lost. They turn to the demon. "Choronzon. Give him his helm."

"No. I won't. It's mine. Please."

Mazikeen throws Choronzon off the balcony after taking the helmet from him. Morpheus approaches the demon and takes the helmet from her, thanking her in the process.

"Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honourable, indeed. I will not forget this."

"Honourable? You joke, surely." Lucifer walks closer to where you two stand. "Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?"

Morpheus smirks slightly. "You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell... Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?"

Lucifer is clearly seething under that calm exterior. You can see it in their eyes.

"One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you."

Morpheus leans in close, seemingly bowing, and looks Lucifer in the eye. "Until that day, Lightbringer."

With his helm in hand, Morpheus walks away. You follow him quietly. Matthew flies by your head. The raven had been watching everything quietly. He was curious about you and his master. However, he kept his thoughts to himself for now.

You follow Morpheus out the gates and back out to the wastelands you had arrived in. You couldn't help but worry slightly. You knew Lucifer was beyond pissed off after today.

Dream was still in his battle gear. It was very fitting for him. He looked... good. It felt weird to think about it, though.

You watch as he puts his helm on.

"Can you actually see in that thing?" You ask. It was a peculiar thing. It looked like it was made out of bones...

"I can. I can see the ruby."

"Your ruby?"

"Yes. Come here." He turns to you, but you can't see his face now he wears his helm. It's rather intimidating.

You stand closer to him and watch as he takes his sand from his pocket. Matthew stands between you both, looking up at the pair of you.

Dream pours the sand into his palm, and it swirls around you both. You instantly reach put and grab his arm gently. His surprise by your action is hidden by his helm.

You arrive at a storage house. You take a look around you and find yourself no longer in Hell. You feel the tension leave your body and let go of Dream.

He looks down at his arm, where you have touched him and tries to commit the warmth of your hand to memory. You take a step away from him, and he comes back to his senses.

He leads you inside.

"I can sense it. My ruby. It's here."

He walks through the shelves and finds the glow of his ruby emitting from a crate on the shelf. He reaches out and smiles as he takes the ruby from within. He holds it up and looks at it.

"Something is wrong."

You frown and are about to ask what was wrong, but as he touches the ruby, it explodes with power in his hand and sends him flying backwards.

"Dream!"

He doesn't respond. You rush over to where he lies and tap his face a few times. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

He doesn't respond.

The door to the storage unit opens, and you hear someone enter. A man in a long coat and slippers kneels down and picks up the ruby. It doesn't seem to affect him. You watch him walk away with it.

You turn your attention to the man in your arms. "Please get up." You whisper. "Wake up..." You feel tears in your eyes.

You don't know what to do.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden -

[ro-bee]

Hi!

Could maybe say something more about your Goat Realm?

What is story of Puppy narinder here?

What heretics look like here and how are they behaviour? (I'm curious about it because I love these beans. I'm all ears to any littlest detail)

How other bishops look like?

And anyway anything. I'm all ears to all ramble!

Drink your water!

HELLOOO

It is time for the goatverse yap section ! Everybody cheers!!

Anyway little disclaimers :

1_ is very work in progress... Unfortunately all my focus is on those two gay furries and not much on the world so I don't have many drawings to show :(

2_ it's heavy... And I mean there are strong themes and stuff (I'm not gonna go in details here) ... You'll see it better when I finish one of my many projects but it will require a lot of time... Like a lot, sorry... Anyway :)

Goat's world is very harsh. Here we live by the philosophy of kill or be killed very often, despite that there are some people that manage to live in piece and tranquility (example: goat's family and people that don't venerate any specific bishops or that venerate Kiran)

The world is ruled by the 5 bishops (these design are still concepts expect our beloved wolf lol)

Four of them command on different regions, Kiran being the god of death rules the purgatory

He doesn't have many followers like his siblings but he prefers it like that, it doesn't really matter to him because people souls would end up to him anyway.

His siblings have more of an evil alineament, they use their godhood for bad often, taking entertainment on their followers pain. Kiran is the opposite and witnessing his followers suffering fills him with sorrow, that's why he always gives his followers a painless death, is the last he can do for them... After all their souls gives him power :)

Anyway I think I already explained kiran's plan here , tldr bro is sad people suffer so he thinks that killing everything is a good solution

A little thing I want to add to kiran's backstory thing (idk):

I think that unfortunately we're not gonna have a ratau in this world, since Kiran's objective is to get rid of pain with putting everyone's soul to rest I think he won't let any previous vessel go away after failing (I'm not doing this because I hate ratau, he's my dad I love him so much)

So goat had no guide in what they were doing

Heretics here are just like regular heretics(?), if you wanted to know more about their design unfortunately I don't have anything with them :( I have some sketches in the comic I'm working on but I need to keep it as a surprise

Most of them are just regular people that want to survive...

Talking about people who want to survive:

Goat wasn't always this fucked up in the head, this whole deal changed them for the worst. Before the crown they lived a normal peaceful life with their family, when they lost everything they were forced to learn how to fight back to survive. So they spent many years running away and fighting back, they felt terrible at first but then it started to feel normal, almost enjoyable. Getting the crowns powers made killing people fun for them so yeah lol this is the evolution of goat going from calm Lyra player to killer machine, they have a loooooot of anger issues lol.

About the bishops... I'm currently drawing them better and they still have no name right now...

Their personality is the opposite of the canon one basically

The leshy is calm less impulsive

The geko is a prudent and a bit coward

The kraken is fearless and violent

The scorpion is ruthless and impulsive

Kiran is their older brother and loves them very much!! the feeling is not very mutual but anyway :)

I need to work a little bit more on them ngl

Aaaand I think this is all? Hmm idk feel free to ask more :)

[nino-rox]

ANOMALY | CHAPTER TWO

Stiles Stilinski x Original Male Reader | M.O

Warnings : None, Teen Wolf AU, Teen Wolf x Original Male Character, Teen Wolf SPOILER ALERT, Gore

Disclaimer : This is a Fan-fiction story written for entertainment purposes only, no part of the story implies or affirms anything regarding real world events or individuals. Please be of the appropriate age ( i.e, Adult as per your country’s stipulations and regulations) before interacting with this post

{Author’s Note: Thank you for the requests! Please leave a comment or suggestion!}

[CHAPTER 2] [2,500 words]

As you reached the benches, you were absolutely fucking appalled; how is it that wherever you went, you'd run into those two boys - they were sitting next to Lydia - you sighed, taking a deep breath as you walked over, putting on your best smile...

The two boys glanced at each other, not expecting you to be the one to show up.

Lydia was the first to speak, "Oh, Y/N, hey. Glad you could make it."

"Of course, thanks for inviting me," you responded.

"This is Scott; he's in our biology class. He's really nice, and that's Stiles. They're childhood friends. You met them this morning. "

"Yeah, I did," you chuckled.

"So, Y/N, Lydia tells us you're from Los Angeles?" Stiles asks.

"Yeah, I am,"

"Why move?" Stiles questioned abruptly.

As Lydia took a breath, mildly embarrassed at Stiles' inability to subtly ask someone a question without sounding like he was interrogating them.

"My mother got a job here," Y/N replied, smiling. 

"So what was the deal with the 10-foot metal chain you carried around?" Y/N asked, curious, making Lydia raise an eyebrow towards the duo.

"We had it in the trunk of our jeep, and it kinda fell out and rolled… in your locker," Stiles said, making a face and grinning in the hopes you'll let it go, while Scott looked pale and tense.

Despite sensing they were obviously hiding something, Y/N decided to let it go -  "So you were planning on chaining something or someone? What is it, like a kinky sex thing?" You said, laughing, and Stiles' eyes widened in shock at your question.

Stiles is still in shock, mildly blushing. Scott and Lydia just look at him in amusement and then look away, laughing.

"HEY MCCALL!!" The coach's voice interrupted from the other side of the seating area.

"YOU and BALINSKI BETTER GET YOUR ASSES TO PRACTICE NOW!!!"

Scott glanced at Stiles, signalling something. Stiles nodded, not noticing you had caught their little exchange. This piqued your interest, so you decided to try tagging along to…you know…get to know your lovely friends better (that's LA slang for stalk these dum bitches)

"You guys have a practice or something? I've got nothing to do. Can I tag along?" Y/N asked

"Uhhh yeah, sure," Scott responded, not knowing why he did. Stiles immediately snapped his head to Scott in pure disbelief as if he'd blown some cover.

You followed the boys, and on the way, Scott and Stiles explained lacrosse to you - you never said you didn't know the game - they assumed you'd never played.

The team was warming up, and Scott took his post as goalkeeper while you sat at the bleachers to watch the boys. 

Suddenly, your phone rang. Perfect timing, you thought to yourself. You quickly picked up your best friend's call and caught her up on everything.

"I was thinking of trying out on their team. What do you think ?" Y/N asked Maria.

"No way. I thought you said you were done with lacrosse after what happened?"

"Yeah, but like it or not, this might be a clean slate…"

Suddenly, you saw the goalie (goalkeeper)—Scott—run towards the charging player and tackle him, both falling to the ground. This caused the coach to abuse air into his whistle, fuming at what he saw.

"Did that goalie just leave the..?" Maria, who was also watching through FaceTime, asked, confused

"HEY MCCALL ????? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ??? The position is goal KEEPER, not goal ABANDONER. STOP LEAVING THE GOAL POST," Coach Finstock Yelled into Scott's ears.

You chuckled, amused at what you were seeing

"Yeah, you still want to try out for their team babe?" Maria shot smugly.

As the next player began to charge, Scott suddenly left his position again, his whole team confused, and coach Finstock looked like he could resign at any minute. Maria laughed, "You were right; these two are crazy AF."

You noticed something weird. When Scott tackled the other boy to the ground, it was almost as if … he… sniffed?…him.

After another yelling from the coach, Scott did the same thing again, and you saw it happen again; you were sure of it. He leaned in and sniffed the guy before looking towards Stiles and shaking his head. 

"I was thinking of trying out on their team. What do you think ?" Y/N asked Maria.

"No way. I thought you said you were done with lacrosse after what happened?"

"Yeah, but like it or not, this might be a clean slate…"

Suddenly, you saw the goalie (goalkeeper)—Scott—run towards the charging player and tackle him, both falling to the ground. This caused the coach to abuse air into his whistle, fuming at what he saw.

"Did that goalie just leave the..?" Maria, who was also watching through FaceTime, asked, confused

"HEY MCCALL ????? WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ??? The position is goal KEEPER, not goal ABANDONER. STOP LEAVING THE GOAL POST," Coach Finstock Yelled into Scott's ears.

You chuckled, amused at what you were seeing

"Yeah, you still want to try out for their team babe?" Maria shot smugly.

As the next player began to charge, Scott suddenly left his position again, his whole team confused, and coach Finstock looked like he could resign at any minute. Maria laughed, "You were right; these two are crazy AF."

You noticed something weird. When Scott tackled the other boy to the ground, it was almost as if … he… sniffed?…him.

After another yelling from the coach, Scott did the same thing again, and you saw it happen again; you were sure of it. He leaned in and sniffed the guy before looking towards Stiles and shaking his head.

You don't know what you were witnessing, but something weird was going on.

The sheriff came onto the field, escorting one of the boys Scott tackled to a van. Seeing this, Y/N began making his way to the two boys.

The boys weren't facing him and didn't see him coming close. As Y/N approached, he stopped after overhearing something they had said. 

"How good are these cells at holding people?" Scott asked in a worried tone.

"People, good…werewolves ?? Not so good."

You were confused. Is this what people meant by weird stories and stuff about this place? Are these two nuts part of some ghost-hunting club?

Y/N hears Scott say something about a wolf and a scent.

"It's him. He's a werewolf, I know it. We have to get him. He's got a scent to main and kill people,"

"How can you tell?"

"I don't know, I just can, and his father just died, and they think he did it, so that's not helping."

What the hell are these two talking about? You heard the sheriff tell the boys they had to leave. You turned around, avoiding whatever mess they were about to get into.

"So, are you going to try out for the team?" Stiles asks as he approaches Y/N.

"Ummm, no, not interested, and I was just kidding earlier," you said.

"Aw, and I thought we'd get to hang more", Stiles pouts.

You roll your eyes playfully at him and start walking, but suddenly, as Stiles follows, he falls down, "OWWWWWW."

"You okay?" Y/N asked.

"Yup, totally," Stiles said as he picked up his lacrosse stick.

You could tell the boy was lying and trying to hide the fact that his ankle hurt, and Y/N had to admire his attempt at protecting his ego.

"Here, lean on me," Y/N said, sighing as you helped him.

Stiles looked at Y/N in utter confusion.

"Are you serious?" Stiles asked, surprised that Y/N didn't just laugh and walk off.

"Yes, you dumbo. Come on, lean," Y/N said, laughing slightly and rolling his eyes - something inside him feeling just a little bit weird.

Stiles wrapped his hand around Y/N as they continued to the parking lot to his jeep. 

The walk was silent. Both boys noticed each other's breathing as the wind gently blew past them. The loud world felt somewhat calmer as leaves rustled in the wind, and the nature around them felt like a peaceful addition to the sound of their footsteps. 

Y/N was always fond of scents; it was perhaps one of his more stereotypically "effeminate" traits as compared to his general masculine nature for the most part, according to his best friend. He couldn't help but notice that despite Stiles not seeming to have any perfume on, his scent was…Y/N pondered how to describe it for a moment before settling on a simple "It's nice…" Not known to Y/N, the boy by his side was enamoured by Y/N's scent; it wasn't a masculine cologne or a feminine scent; it was just sweet, but just the right amount, almost addictive, with a hint of something that made you feel like perfection?

(Author's Note: LMAO Stiles, are you sure it's the "scent" you're finding so 'perfect’ ?? Awww)

As the boys neared the parking lot, Stiles stopped momentarily, looking at you, breaking the silence. "Y/N… I'm sorry about the morning, with the chains and stuff," he said slowly, his voice trailing.

"Oh, that? Don't worry about it; it was nothing," Y/N said, smiling slightly.

"I don't think so… at the moment when it happened, you seemed to be quite upset, it was like for a moment I saw some panic, you didn't like being in the centre with everyone eyeing you…I…think…so you don't have to brush it off and say it was nothing, so I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

As much as you tried to hide the fact that his words affected you, your eyes widened, and you froze, the smile on your face faltering. You knew one day someone would have been able to see through your facade, except perhaps not so soon.

Y/N didn't quite know what to say as the buzz-cut boy stared into his eyes; perhaps Stiles was more than a dunce…Y/N had never noticed that Stiles had read him that much; a part of that fact scared Y/N. It was threatening that someone read emotions he might've buried. Either way, he was grateful for Stiles' apology, but saying thank you and acknowledging Stiles would mean accepting that he was indeed "that" bothered by what had happened, and he tried to hide it. Y/N wasn't mentally ready for the stranger he met to know that. 

Somewhere deep down, Y/N wanted to hug Stiles and thank him for caring enough to notice and care about him—a stranger he didn't even know, who, until now, had just looked down on him and wanted to avoid him.

"I think you're reading into it too much, Stiles. Besides, I was just shocked and caught off guard, nothing more. It doesn't mean anything, so it's fine," Y/N said, walking forward while supporting Stiles.

Stiles knew the boy was lying. He wondered why Y/N seemed … scared, but he couldn't help but respect that Y/N wasn't ready to open up...yet.

As the two boys walked to where Stiles said he parked, Scott was near his blue jeep, leaning against the side while talking to someone on the phone.

"That blue jeep is mine," Stiles said as he checked out the sleek black SUV parked next to him, mouthing damn as if he had just checked out a hot girl.

Y/N couldn't help but smirk.

"This one's yours, huh?" Y/N asked, pointing towards the jeep.

"Yes, she is. What about her?" Stiles asked.

"You should really get it fixed; the entire body's dented," Y/N replied.

"Heyyyy, she's fine. She's been like this for years, and she's still running well. Besides, I have duct tape," Stiles said defensively, which made Y/N laugh.

"Hey, let's go ?" Scott said, getting into the jeep. Y/N took his arm off Stiles' side as he got into the car, waving as the clunky jeep drove off.

He took a deep breath, looking at the dusk sky, tired and shocked. His first day had been more complicated than he had expected.

Y/N got into his car and sat behind the steering wheel, not quite knowing what to think or how to react. Everything felt different—his day, his emotions, his heart? He felt knackered and needed some sleep, so he drove home.

As he reached his home, Y/N saw a note his mother left saying she was staying late at work and not to wait for her.

He walked into his room, stripping and quickly showering before bed.

Y/N didn't know what had happened. He was always fine being alone and never needed friends or companionship. But today, as he lay in bed, something about the day's events kept running through his mind. He had a strange urge to call his mom and talk to her, but she had an important surgery, and he didn't want to bother her. So, Y/N sighed, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, and as he dozed off to sleep, he couldn't help but feel like a certain "scent" was missing.

After his day, it didn't take long for Y/N to drift into a slumber. But the cold kept him from getting comfortable. He shifted around, turning and tossing, but it was no use; it felt likely it was getting colder; annoyed that his sleep was disturbed, Y/N got up to turn up the heat, freezing in shock.

It was pitch black, and the comfort of his bed no longer supported his body - it was nowhere to be felt - and crickets chirped as thin beams of moonlight shone through dense trees—Y/N was in a forest.

As Y/N felt the wet ground and mulch under him, the reality and panic began to set in. He was in a forest! A dark forest, cold, half naked, and something was…hurting.

Y/N felt it, and there was an overwhelming sense of pain.

His mind was hazy, and as his hands found the source of his pain, his eyes watered at the sight of a bear trap digging into his foot, blood spilling.

Panic filled his head; the pain, the forest, and the cold made his senses overflow, and not before long, Y/N felt something … something was there…just ahead of him…looking right at him…he could feel it in his gut…but the darkness masked it. . .It was right there…

The air was cold, and the silence was deafening; all he could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat.

He felt the presence coming closer, and as the wind blew, a gust of cold air hit him, carrying a scent. The scent smelled like something was rotting or slowly…dying.

Y/N whimpered in silence, trying to move back, but the trap held him firmly in place. He was powerless, pinned down by the trap, unable to get up and run, and as his fear peaked, he saw something terrifying.

Its eyes glowed yellow, as dark slits in its eyes appeared, a hiss emitted from its throat, saliva dripping from its mouth as it bared its fangs. It stood up like a human, its body covered in scales with a tail that was getting dangerously close to Y/N's neck.

Y/N was frozen in fear, unable to move or breathe, his heart beating out of his chest as the creature's tail lunged towards him, piercing his shoulder and causing his whole body to spasm in pain.

It felt like someone had ripped his shoulder apart, and the feeling of his bones cracking, his muscle tissue ripping, the nerves in his shoulder being severed. His flesh torn apart was excruciatingly painful. His voice was lost, and his breath hitched as he tried to scream out in pain.

The creature hissed once again, its tail still deep inside his shoulder, twisting around and moving about, causing more pain than Y/N could ever have imagined. But suddenly, his body began to go numb. Y/N couldn't move a single muscle; he lay there paralysed, his eyes wide in fear, tears streaming down his face as the creature got closer.

Y/N saw its claws extend; as it got closer, he could feel its breath on his face. Still, suddenly, it snapped its head in another direction, running off, leaving Y/N bleeding in silence.

He saw a dark shadow approach him, and the last thing he heard before his vision went blank was the sound of his own screams.

Please Request for CHAPTER ~ 3

[sayhoneysiren]

WHAT'S UR SEDUCTIVE CHARM

I II III

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welcome sirens! this reading is for entertainment pursposes only based on the downloads i receive. do not attack me if the message doesn’t resonate. keep in mind this is a collective reading, not a individual one. with that being said, enjoy!

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xx HoneySiren xx 🍒

I ~ Your charm is your Elusiveness. You prefer to keep your circle small and don't open up to others easily. It takes effort to get your attention and tie you down, since you have high standards. Many of you may attract athletes or be athletic yourself. People seem to be in awe with your physique. You could enjoy dressing in leather and velvet fabrics.

Underneath your cool exterior you are a very compassionate, sensitive and spiritual person who can be shy at times or have anxiety about being seen. People view your shyness as 'cute' and instantly become somewhat protective over you. In a social setting, you are probably stationed in the corner of the room waiting for others to approach you or surrounded by close people you know.

Your eyes are alluring and can be felt across the room. People yearn to know more about you and what lies behind your enchanting gaze. They question why you're so quiet and to yourself.

When getting to know you, people notice that you are blunt and honest, preferring to cut straight to the point. You can clearly see through players, fakeness and egos and you're not here to entertain the bs. It also surprises people that you are so intelligent, headstrong and charming. But you only open to who you deem worthy.

II ~ Your charm is JE NE SAIS QUOI, Unfamiliar, profound and spellbinding, You are a person of potent power and you know it. Your essence oozes a calm confidence that fascinates and touches everyone around you.

Many may view you as a lone wolf or distinct in the way you present yourself. No one can check you off into any box. Some of you are of a different descent than those around you,

making you seem exotic. People could be enthralled by your accent, voice, unique fashion sense or your culture. You don't care about appearing weird to others. Staying authentic to yourself is most important and by doing this you give others hope, expand their minds and show them that they too can express their truest selves. You take them to another world where they can see themselves with loving eyes.

A glo' up' has been real for some of you and your looks have evolved tremendously. People describe you as a baddie or an it girl. You just have a captivating quality. On top of that, you KNOW how to seduce and don't care about being labeled 'bad'. Some of you embrace the label of the 'bad girl'.

People love taking time to get to know you and you enjoy talking about your big dreams. You don't stay still, always seeking to grow. Therefore always evolving.

III ~ Your charm is the Finesser.

From first glance no one would expect you are a powerful witch. The spell work and affirmations you do helps you manifest things excellently. You are able to see situations for what they are and manipulate it into what you want them to be. You may also be connected to nature and have some unique spiritual tattoos.

You are the undercover player moving in very strategic ways. You’re the type to meet your crush and reverse them to like you. You charm them by playing coquette and get them on your side to do whatever you want. You may use the affirmation "Everything I want wants me more."

You have many different sides to show, but you never reveal your full hand all at once. One day you're innocent then the next day naughty, happy then sad. You always have a one up one people, so things never get dull with you. You may also love to shock and surprise people. 

You're not boastful or afraid of showing vulnerability. You know this works in your benefit and no one suspects you until it's too late. Until they're too far gone under your charm.

People think you're losing but you’re actually winning.

[rendy-a]

Could I request a self aware twst au with like the first years :D?

I want to thank all the people who interacted with that post earlier today. It gave me enough motivation to go out and finish this piece.

While trying to think up concepts for this work, it occured to me that all the first years (except Ortho) were in sports clubs. That means there is one event perfect for you to bond with your first year friends.

Ace kicks a pile of canvas laying in a heap at his feet, “This is ridiculous!  What if something happens while we’re gone!”  His mouth twists into an unpleasant grimace.  He looks to his basketball club members for backup, but no one will meet his eye.  So, he turns to where he knows he’ll find support.  “Oi, Sebek!”  The green haired fae is distractedly pounding away at a tent stake nearby but it is easy to see from his expression that his heart isn’t in it.  “What happens if someone tries to kidnap the Player when we aren’t there to protect them?  You know how famous they are!”  Sebek stops hammering and slowly looks up, tears forming in his eyes. 

“SILVER! SILVER!” he shouts to his clubmate, “What if I’m not there to protect the Player!  Forget this event, we must return to the school with ALL HASTE!”  He looks to his fellows for support but again, none of the senior students stop what they are doing.  Ace, however, is fast to abandon his own camping site and join Sebek.  “Right, right?” he eagerly urges Sebek on, “What does this even matter if our Player isn’t here to see it?” 

“Stop it,” the sturdy voice of Jack growls, “It doesn’t pay to get worked up over it.  This is in the story, so we have to do it.  That’s just how it is.”  Sebek stares at the wolf beastman silently, tears falling from his eyes.  “Maybe we can tell them about it later!” Deuce tries to cheer his fellow freshman up, “I’m sure they’d like to hear about it.  They always listened to my card stories before…well before it happened.  I think they’d like to hear about this too!”  At that Sebek seemed mightily cheered and returned to setting up his tent with gusto, muttering about what he’d tell the Player about later.  Ace scoffs, sensing his defeat and returns bitterly to his own site. 

Epel wanders over and observes Ace silently.  “You finished?” Ace asks in surprise.  “Yeah, Leona is a great leader and took charge of getting us set up right away!” Epel informs him, “I had time to put up my tent and help Ruggie set up one for Leona too!”  Then he looks down and kicks Ace’s sad abandoned tent as well, “I just wish the Player was here to see it.  I bet they’d have been really impressed with how fast I finished.”  Ace frowns and complains, “But they aren’t here.  They are back at school with the Arts Clubs.”  This causes Epel to scowl deeply, “Dagnabit!  I didn’t need a reminder of that!  I can just picture those frou-frou artsy types trying to suck up to the Player.  Trying to get them to talk different, eat different, just…” He doesn’t finish the thought but the way he grinds his teeth shows how he feels about the idea.

The sound of pounding tent stakes and shifting canvas is diminished when the booming voice of Coach Vargas booms out, “Listen up, young campers!  Now, I know you don’t need any additional motivation to showcase your strength and fortitude here after I’ve done an AMAZING job setting up this EXCITING AND ENTERTAINING EVENT!”  Here he pauses and casts a quick look over his shoulder before straightening up again.  “But if you do!”  Then he smiles a beaming smile and sets his hands on his hips.  That’s when you pop out from behind him, “Hey guys!  Guess who’s here to do their memory keeper duties!” 

Ace jumps over his canvas pile in a rush to get to your side and stumbles over it.  “Woah, calm down,” you admonish him cheerily, “I’ll be here all weekend.”  Epel asks in an innocent sounding voice, “You will?  You really will?”  You pat the two boys on the shoulder and search out your other first year friends in the crowd.  Sebek is sobbing quietly in front of his tent and Deuce is waving excitedly from the distant track club area.  Jack gives you a small nod before turning back to his area as though he is unaffected by your appearance, but the cloud of dust kicked up by his wagging tail says otherwise. 

You turn toward Vargas and look expectantly.  He looks blankly back at you until you awkwardly say, “Go on.”  He looks at you a moment before clearing his throat, “Ah yes, yes.  Harumph!  Anyway, tents are up!  Get over here and listen up for your next task!”  Then he looks at you as though seeking your approval to hand out the task.  You shrug and then nod as though to say, ‘Sure, go for it.’  Vargas gives you a toothy smile and then proceeds to hand out a familiar sounding explanation about the tasks to be assigned to the clubs.  You wave lightly before heading back to the cabin to get your own things sorted out.  The eagerness of the students fades as fast as your departure.

“So…,” Deuce begins carefully, “We are going to try now?  Right?”  He looks at Ace for confirmation.  Jack snorts behind him, “I was always going to try.”  Then he makes a fist and puts on an eager smile, “I’m going to knock this challenge out so fast that the Player can’t help but notice me!”  Deuce turns away from Ace to join Jack instead.  The two Track Club members fire each other up over their plans to dominate the camp tasks and stand out to the Player.  Deuce quickly becomes so distracted by this that he forgets Ace entirely.  This is just the chance Ace has been waiting for to quietly slip away.

“So, Prefect,” Ace begins as he appears at your side.  You yelp and drop your backpack, catching it before it hits the ground and damages your precious ghost camera.  “Ace!” you shout, “What are you doing here?  This isn’t in the event!”  He looks at you quietly and you quickly backtrack, “I…I mean, shouldn’t you be with the Basketball Club doing…something?”  Ace smiles, happy to have avoided an awkward situation.  “Nah, I’m not going to mess around in the woods.  It’s a team effort, so as long as those other guys do the grunt work, I’ll be fine.”  You roll your eyes at his attitude.  “Plus, why would I want to be anywhere but with my best buddy, eh Prefect?” 

You consider this carefully before slyly narrowing your eyes and gesturing to your unbuilt tent.  “Sure, thing, Pal.  Why don’t you hang out and help me build my tent.”  Ace grimaces, not wanting to do the work but mostly afraid you’ll pick up on his lack of tent-building expertise.  The odd standoff is concluded when you hear Coach Vargus bellow, “Nonsense!  That won’t do for either of you!  I can hardly deprive the Prefect of the chance to enjoy this stimulating muscle-building activity and as for you Ace, well, you are just slacking off.”  Ace starts to stammer as you just stand there cringing.  Coach Vargus calmly approaches Ace and lifts him up by his collar.  It reminds you of how you lift a misbehaving Grim by the scruff of his neck.  You wave awkwardly at the departing Ace as he looks imploringly at you from the Coach’s grasp.  ‘Oh well, you reap what you sow,’ you think.

A tiring amount of time later, you brush your hands off on your thighs and declare, “There, done!”  Then you slowly head over to grab your pack holding the Ghost Camera, among other supplies.  The sun is barely at its peak, but you are already sweating with exertion from putting up the tent.  You wonder how your more athletic friends among the first-year students are handling it.  You know they are more used to the effort, but you hope they are taking necessary precautions.  Perhaps you’d just remind them and see if they need to borrow some sunscreen.

You know realize that sunscreen was the least of your safety concerns.  You watch in disbelief as Sebek continues to scale a sheer cliff in search of a lantern blossom flower.  The reaction of the nearby students was mixed.  Silver seemed remarkably unconcerned as he spoke to Riddle nearby.  Meanwhile, you and several NPC characters were more nervous.  “He is going to fall, isn’t he?” you ask the nearby Scarabia A.  He looks at you for a long moment and then shrugs his shoulders.  You are not reassured at all. 

You turn instead to Ignihyde C and gesture, “This game doesn’t have a mature rating, so he can’t die.  Right? Right?”  The surprised student looks at you with his mouth falling open before he stammers, “R.right.”  Then he looks up at the precarious position of the green haired fae and mumbles, “But maybe you should cheer him on anyway.”  You look more intently at the NPC and demand, “Do you think that would help?”  He answers you in a fluster, “W..well, if my oshi…I mean friend…if my friend cheered me on, I think it would really help me do my best!” 

Right.  That is just the sort of thing friends do.  “HEY SEBEK!” you shout.  The fae somehow hears you shout and looks arrogantly over his shoulder at the spectators but when his eye catches your form, he shakes, and you fear he will tumble from the cliff.  “HOLD ON SEBEK, YOU CAN DO IT!  I BELIEVE IN YOU!”  From even the great distance between you, the image of determination that crosses his expression can be seen.  He sets off with a renewed vigor, making daring transitions and finding ways to make speedy progress.  With several movements that make you gasp and hold your breath; he reaches the lantern blossom and plucks it from the ground. 

Much faster than the ascent, Sebek’s return to the ground was accomplished quite shortly.  He was still a considerable distance up when he leaps from the cliff edge to race to your side and show off his prize.  He eagerly holds out the glowing lantern blossom for you to view.  “Its so pretty,” you comment politely, “I wish I had one.”  He gasps and grabs hold of your hand, forcing the poor battered flower into it.  “THEN YOU MUST HAVE THIS ONE!”  You give him a shocked look, “No really, that is unnecessary.  I’ll get one some other day.”  He smiles at you smugly, “No need Prefect.  Any time you need a lantern blossom, I will fetch one for you.”  You guiltily hold out the flower to one student after another, but no member of the Horseback Riding Club will take it from you.  “Prefect,” Riddle finally says in a commanding voice, “Its rude to return a gift.  We are more than capable of retrieving another lantern blossom.”  Sebek and Silver nod in agreement, backing up the Dorm Leader.  You think it’s time to go before you cause this club any more trouble.  You make your excuses and dash off to the lake.

As you part a pair of branches and emerge from the forest at the lake’s edge, you catch sight of some members of the Spelldrive Club nearby.  Ruggie seems to be fishing up a storm while your first-year friend Epel watches from nearby with his own pole.  “See,” Ruggie tells his underclassman, “That’s how its done.  Now in return for that free lesson, how about you show me what you learned by catching enough fish for the rest of the club! Shishishi!”  You roll your eyes at the obvious attempt to foist the work off onto Epel but are surprised with your friend shouts “YES SIR!” with enthusiasm.  You catch Ruggie’s eye and give him a quiet tsk tsk which only earns you a mischievous wink before the hyena beastman set’s off toward camp.

You slowly saunter over to Epel, who is fully engaged in his fishing.  “So, got a plan?” you asked over his shoulder.  “Eh!?” he gasps and drops his pole, “Player!  I..I mean Prefect!  It’s you! Ya’ had me surprised outta my skin there!”  You give him an apologetic smile.  Epel stoops down to retrieve his pole and shyly replies, “My plan is just to catch the fish.  I’m not going to give up until I’ve caught at least a dozen!”  Then he holds up his arm and bends it at the elbow, giving you a little flex to show off his determination.  You hold in a laugh, “Well, if you are that fired up, why stop at only one dozen?” 

Epel’s eyes go wide for a moment and then he gets a maniacal grin.  “Yeah! You’re right!  I’m going to catch you at least two dozen fish!  Or maybe three or four!”  You know Epel is not the type to break his word, so you quickly interrupt to calm down his ambitions, “One dozen is enough!  I was just joking.”  You wave your hands toward the ground as though to say, let’s lower our expectations.  Epel frowns and mutters under his breath, “That isn’t going to impress anyone.” Then he looks at you determined, “Just wait and see!  I’ll catch plenty of fish so don’t go eat’n with any other club!  When tha fish are in tha bag, I’ll make ya Gram’s special fish stew!” 

As Epel gets to work, casting his line and reeling in the lure, you sit beside him on a rock.  When the time seems right, you snap a picture of him eagerly lifting a small fish from the lake on his line.  “There you go!  One down!” you say as you transfer the ghost camera to your elbow and give him a small clap of encouragement.  He preens a short second before frowning down at the small fish.  “Tha’ next ‘un will be twice as big!” he shouts in determination before casting his line again. 

True to his prediction, soon Epel gets a tremendous tug on his pole.  You both shout and leap to your feet at the strength of the fish that appears to be on the line.  “WOAH!” Epel shouts.  You lean over the edge of the lake, trying to see the monster fish Epel has snagged.  Epel too seems interested in his opponent and plans one foot firmly while leaning forward to stare intently where his line entered the lake.  With a sudden flash, a scaled hand emerges from the lake to grab the tip of Epel’s rod and tugs Epel, pole and all, into the lake.  You quickly slide back as far more of Floyd emerges from the lake.  He gives you a toothy smile before his trademark laugh emerges and he returns to the lake.  Epel does not immediately surface, and you are concerned for a moment before you spot him further down the shore.  Though he has concealed himself behind a log, you can tell his ears are flushed with embarrassment.  You kindly decide to give him his space.

Halfway to camp, your stomach begins to growl.  You thought sadly about Gran’s special fish stew, now beyond your reach.  You hoped that you’d manage to sweet talk some fish off someone.  They were your friends, so someone is bound to share, right? 

The size of Deuce’s eyes when you asked him sweetly if he’d share his food with you rivaled that of the empty plate you held out to him.  “Please?” you finish your plea for lunch.  Deuce flushes and quickly removes his pack from his shoulder, pulling out a fairly large fish.  “No problem, Prefect, I’ve got enough for two here!”  You make a little gesture to celebrate your victory and compliment him, “Yeah!  Great job catching such a big fish.  It looks so huge, I bet its even enough for three people!”  Immediately Deuce denies this, “NO!  NO, IT’S NOT!”  When you pull back in surprise, Deuce continues in a softer voice, “I…I mean this one is just perfect for two.  It…its just meant for us.  To share.  Together.” 

You hold up your hands and agree, “Sure, sure.  Just you and me.  I get you.”  Deuce seems so very pleased by your response that you decide to just let his strange response slide.  Plus, you need him to cook that fish.  “So…what are you making?  You know, just for us to share?” you ask as you saddle up to his side?  Deuce looks back and forth between you and the fish, “I sure know how to cook this.  Yup, I really do.”  Your mouth falls into a little O and then you glare at him suspiciously, “Deuce, do you know how to cook fish?”  He doesn’t meet your eye but assures you that Trey taught him some recipes.  You still have your suspicious but figure if it was a Trey recipe, it would be alright.

“So, what do we do?” you ask Deuce.  He looks at you with a dreamy expression, “We?  You’re going to cook with me?”  You shrug your shoulders, “I mean yeah, that’s how Trey’s recipes are, right?”  Then you lean in close and whisper, “Like…Like in the game when we made that chestnut tart together.  Right?”  Deuce quickly agrees, “Right!  Together!  You and me!  Just…you and me… Ahem!”  He finishes with a cough and then, to your relief, sends you to the forest to collect some herbs. 

You had a handful of samples and a general area to search for more.  Apparently, Jack had scented some out while setting up camp and taken cuttings so his clubmates could retrieve more later.  You smiled at the foresight of the first-year student.  You weren’t sure exactly what Deuce needed, so you gathered a few handfuls of each type.  You walk back to the camp and set your bounty on the table next to the fish Deuce has prepared.  It looks like he’s used the time you were away to fillet the fish and make a simple dough.  Seeing the dough gives you confidence that this really is a Trey recipe. 

“So, what now?” you ask him.  “Chop up the herbs and mix them into a paste with water,” Deuce directs.  “Sure,” you say while gesturing to the pile, “but which ones?”  Deuce pauses and looks at the large pile of greens you have sitting there.  “Oh…um…All of them!”  Now your doubts are back.  “Are you sure about that?” you ask him carefully.  “Yeah!” Deuce replies confidently, “Just like Trey says, the more the merrier!”  You carefully take two sprigs of herbs and chop them up and then, while Deuce is preoccupied with the dough, give them a taste.  Honestly, the combination of the two isn’t bad.  ‘Well,’ you think, ‘what to I know about cooking in a magical world anyway?’  So, you chop the entire pile of greens and mix it all into a thick paste.  Deuce combines your herb paste with the fish and puts it into a small pie shell he has formed with the dough.  Then, you pack the ‘pie’ into the hot rocks of the fire to roast. 

While the pie bakes, you sit side by side on a log and chat about normal things.  Or maybe it was more like you chatted and Deuce listened.  You didn’t mind, he was good company even if he seemed preoccupied.  You were telling him about Grim’s latest antics when you felt something on your hand.  You give a small yelp and tug your hand into your lap.  “Ah!” you examine your hand as you brush it off, “Was that a bug?”  Deuce, who you suddenly realize had gotten far closer to you than you’d noticed, nervously remarked, “Oh yeah, that…was probably it.  Ha ha.”  Finally, you ask, “Are you cold?  I bet we could find you a seat closer to the fire if you are.  You can be as cozy as our pie.”  Deuce seems embarrassed for a moment before suddenly becoming alarmed, “THE PIE!”  He jumps up and fishes the pie from the fire. 

He brings it to you nervously, “I think it is fine…”  The pie has a small amount of char around the edge that was directly in the fire.  If it hadn’t been made by your good friend, you’d probably have refused it but, since it was made by Deuce, you don’t have the heart to refuse.  “Oh yeah, looks fine.  I guess…lets try it?” you say trying to convince both yourself and Deuce of the pie’s editability.  Deuce lets out a happy sigh and breaks the pie in half, handing you the slice with fewer burnt edges.  He makes no move to eat the pie himself but seems to hold his breath, waiting for you to try it.  “Well, here it goes?” you say in a worried tone.  You take a bite; it’s terrible.  You force your mouth into a wide smile, “mmm…” you mutter for him in pity.  You decide to use the same method for the pie as you used the last time you were forced to eat Lilia’s cooking.  You cram the pie down in three huge bites, trying to finish it off while tasting it as little as possible. 

For a moment, Deuce seems greatly pleased with the gusto in which you eat before the look of alarm sets on his face and he tilts his head to the side.  Or maybe he is tilting his whole body?  Oh, no.  It’s you that is falling.  Then the blackness takes you as Deuce’s frightened shouts fade out, “HELP, I think…I’ve poisoned…the player…”

You wake up groggy.  If that was all, you’d have considered yourself lucky, but it also appears you’ve been tied to a tree.  You are confused for a moment until you recall the storyline of the Camp Vargus event.  Right, Coach is probably out tormenting students right now while anyone captured is tied up.  Great, just great.  You look up when you hear a long howl echoing through the forest.  ‘Is that Jack?’ you think to yourself.  If Jack is already in his wolf form, then this camp is nearly over.  You sigh and lean back into the tree, waiting for someone to come along and release you.

It isn’t longer than an hour before a very tired but eager Jack arrives to untie you.  “Guess you are the hero of the day, huh?” you jibe at him.  He flushes as he rubs the back of his head, “Oh, you heard about that.”  He tries to pretend indifference but moments later he is asking for more details, “So what did you hear?”  Well, this is a challenge to answer since you hadn’t actually heard anything about it.  You just remembered it from when it was a game plot.  “Well…didn’t Floyd change into his mer form?  That was probably cool to see.” 

A look of incredulousness passes over his face, “Yeah well, other guys probably looked cool too.”  You nod knowingly, “Yeah, I heard you got to Sebek use his training to lure the monster into the bog.  Who knew there would be a chance for him to show off his skills out here.”  Jack huffs, “Yeah but he wasn’t the only one using his skills out there.”  Now you smile, feeling a bit mischievous yourself, “Oh, for sure.  I mean what would we have done without our MVP from Savanahclaw.”  Jack lets out a relieved sigh and smiles.  “Yes, Ruggie sure did pull though.  I don’t normally approve of his sneaky habits, but you have to admit he really came through today.” 

Jack’s eyes widen and he stands there in a silent shock.  “Well, let’s get going.  Are you hungry?  I could sure go for something right about now.”  Then you dust off your knees and start heading toward camp.  After a moment, you decide you’ve tortured him enough and pause, waiving your hand to signal him to join you.  When he reaches your side, you give his uniform sleeve a tug.  He bends down and you use this opportunity to give him a pat on the head and then rub his soft ears.  “You did good, Jack,” you praise him softly.  Then you thread your arm through his own and tug him along to camp.  “Now, let’s go get some grub.  Just don’t take anything Deuce gives you, ok?”  Jack smiles and follows you along, tail wagging all the way.

[gengarscribe]

This post is inspired by @heister-shmeister because the head canons of Jacket are so scrumdiddilyumptious and make my neurons fire.

Anyways, characterization of Jacket is such a fickle thing in this fandom and I think people don’t utilize the struggle of Jacket’s labeling as sociopath in the games and his seemingly remorseful, empathetic and outright emotional acts in Hotline Miami. Which, is kind of a shame because even the small snippets Payday 2 lore we get of him are so fun to sink teeth into and I imagine writing or drawing that would be just as entertaining.

In face of his sociopath labeling, I would argue that there is emotion to Jacket in some way in almost every game he’s in. I remember reading a headcanon by heister-shmeister and the one thing that is emphasized again and again is that Jacket will not willingly ever kill civilians. When he’s forced to kill one in Hotline Miami, he’s physically sickened and vomits. There’s remorse somewhere, there’s an internalized disgust. That also means the violence he commits isn’t mindless. Some level of care is taken and there’s an awareness in that big chicken head of his.

Not to mention, Jacket is shown to feel some sort of care or sympathy for others even though it’s not particularly broken down much. I’m sure developers behind the game wanted that to be left up to player judgment and discussion just like how the question of Do you like hurting other people? was left for debates on it’s meaning. But again, Jacket has cared about people. He saves Girlfriend from an objectively horrible situation when he didn’t have to. Not to mention the clear and utter guilt Jacket feels about Beard’s death. Had Beard survived miraculously or avoided the bomb in some turn of events, I don’t think Jacket would have become Jacket. He just would have been a vet living in Miami struggling with girlfriends and a messy, bachelors apartment.

And sure, you could argue he’s an almost animalistic level of violent and I’d admit that’s not even an argument but a fact. Though, Jacket is numb to this violence to the point where he can clear out banks and hotels of Russian mobsters or cops like it’s nothing. Plus, his entire build in Payday 2 is based off of his ability to tank hits with melee weapons and be rewarded for being up close and personal with enemies.

Again, the brutality sticks out to me. Jacket’s violence to me - a consumer of all of the media he’s in - seems so numbly enacted but not particularly in the way of a sociopath. I would say more in a way of where he just doesn’t care anymore; that he feels there’s really no value in his life or himself other than his ability to hurt other people. In Hotline Miami, he’s doing it for revenge and to satiate a deep set grief and rage in him. Jacket doesn’t even have a confirmed civilian life like the other heisters. His entire legacy in these pieces of media is and forever will be the violence he committed. Even Wolf, as unhinged and equally violent he is, has a family. At one point he was a father and a husband before he was Hoxton’s. There is no life to Jacket, there is only a chicken mask, a bucket of discount hammers and a numb, cool rage to him with loosely fitted limits and self imposed rules. In my eyes he really doesn’t live, rather he exists.

I’m not entirely sure what Payday’s Jacket backstory is as I can only ever find speculation. All I know is that it’s confirmed to be a different timeline/universe from Hotline Miami and that there’s a chance that Jacket is a copycat killer, but even then if this is some sociopath that goes around leaving bodies, why is there so much clear pause in his mind and why does he have such a clear limit?

Is he a sociopath or is he a broken husk of a formerly living man whose entire life became Jacket? And if he is a copycat in Payday 2, then something must have caused him to snap and decide that the real Jacket’s mantle as a Russian mob killing machine needed to be taken on.

This looks like crazed rambling to me as I read back on this but the purpose of this blog is so I can crazily ramble about the things I love whether or not there’s an audience. And if there is an audience, my condolences. I’m only making tags for the very very minuscule chance that this is seen and some avenue for discussion or debate is opened.

Edit: I say fickle because I refuse the idea that this is some perfect, cool and quiet tumblr sexy man sociopath. Let’s admit it, people characterize him as such. I refuse to Jeff the Killer my favorite character if that makes sense. In my mind Jacket is flawed and out of the norm in some way. He’s antisocial, he’s communicates in tapes, he won’t clean up his damn safe house room, etc etc.

[mountaingoit]

Dnd single player stats

pulled an all nighter again

Acela Valani [Dex/Cha Build]

HP: 6d8 [max: 48]

Lizard-folk Bard [Lv. 6] 

[Entertainer]

AC: 12

Strength: 10 (+0)

Dexterity: 15 (+2)

Constitution: 12 (+1)

Intelligence: 9 (-1)

Wisdom: 10 (+0)

Charisma: 15 (+2)

Proficiency bonus: +3

Spell cast DC: 13

Spell attack modifier: +5

Spell/Attack list

Dissonant Whispers   [1st Level]                    3d6+5 psychic damage Wisdom DC = 8

You whisper a discordant melody to your target, torturing its ears with terrible pain. The target must make a Wisdom save to break free. [1 action]

Healing Word         [1st Level]         Restores 1d4+4 hp

Your words can restore a creature within eyesight. No effect on undead or constructs [1 action]

Sleep [1st Level]     Range of effect:     [5d8 hp]     [Creature’s hp must be equal to or less than the spells hp range to be affected.]

You cast a spell that sends creatures into a magical slumber. The sleeping creature(s) may wake up by taking damage, being interrupted, and the spell wearing off in 5 turns. [1 action].

Rapier (1d8 piercing)

You strike the target with a swift piercing jab.

—

Paula Dendafter [Str Build]

HP: 7d12 + 2 [max: 84]

Wolf-folk Barbarian [Lv. 7]

AC: 13

[Outlander]

Strength: 16 (+3)

Dexterity: 8 (-1)

Constitution: 15 (+2)

Wisdom: 13 (+1)

Intelligence: 11 (+0)

Charisma: 14 (+2)

Greataxe [1 d12 slashing, heavy, two-handed]

Breastplate: AC = 13

Proficiency bonus: +3

Attack List

Greataxe [1d12+3 slash damage]     [Heavy]

You swing your greataxe into the target.

Physical hits     [1+3 bludgeoning damage]

You can either punch your target with your fists or kick them with your legs. [1 action].

Shoving    [Strength check]       [Yours vs Target’s]

You can shove an opponent away, but only if they’re not tremendously bigger than you and they must be close to you. [1 action]. 

Grappling [Strength check vs Str/Dex check]

You can grab a creature or wrestle them to the ground, but only if they’re not tremendously bigger than you and they must be close to you. [1 action]

—

Lydia Katheere [Dex Build]

HP: 7d10 + 1 [Max: 71]

Satyr-dragon Ranger [Lv.7]

AC: 14

[Soldier]

Strength: 12 (+1)

Dexterity: 16 (+3)

Constitution: 13 (+1)

Wisdom: 15 (+2)

Intelligence: 11 (+0)

Charisma: 14 (+2)

Pike [1d8 piercing, reach, two handed]

Proficiency bonus: +3

Saving throws: Dex and Wis

Spell cast DC = 13

Spell attack modifier: +5

Leather Armor AC = 14

Pike [1d10+3 piercing damage] [Heavy]

You pierce the pike into the target. [1 action]

Ensnarling Strike [Strength save] [1d6 damage per turn]                 Spell save: DC = 13

The next time you strike a creature after casting the spell, a writhing mass of vines ensnare the target from the point of impact. From there, the target must make a Strength save to escape or endure restraint and pain. Another creature can challenge your spell save to free the trapped target.         The spell lasts for five turns.                           [1 action + 1 bonus action] or [2 actions]

Hunter’s Mark    [+1d6 damage to pike attack]

You mark a creature as your hunting game/prey, where upon your next weapon strike, you will deal additional damage. The Hunter’s Mark lasts for five turns. If you manage to kill the creature [0 hp] before the spell wears off, you can mark a second creature on your next turn.            [1 action + 1 bonus action]

Longstrider       [target moves first on the next turn cycle]

You touch a creature to give them a speed boost. [1 action]

—

Paprika Whitterstone [Cha Build]

HP: 6d6 + 2 [max: 38]

Deer-folk Sorceress [Lv. 6]

AC: 12

[Urchin]

Strength: 9 (-1)

Dexterity: 15 (+2)

Constitution: 15 (+2)

Wisdom: 13 (+1)

Intelligence: 11 (+0)

Charisma: 16 (+3)

Spell cast DC: 14

Spell attack modifier: +6

Saving throws: Con and Cha

Spell List

Burning Hands      3d6 fire damage   Dexterity save:        DC = 10

Flames shoot out of your fingertips, engulfing at least two targets within. [1 action]

Magic Missile   1d4+4 magic damage per dart

You create three glowing darts of magical force to hurl at your target. You can choose to hurl 3 darts of magic towards a single target or multiple targets.              [1 action]

Chromatic Orb  3d8 elemental damage

You hurl a small orb of elemental energy, towards a target. You can choose from either acid, cold, fire, lightning, poison, or thunder for your elemental attack.   [1 action]

Mage Armor    base AC 13 + Dex The target must not be wearing armor.

You touch a willing creature who isn’t wearing armor to provide a magical barrier that blocks most attacks. The spell ends in five turns. [1 action]

[diamond-draws]

Glamrock Halloween headcanons

The ENTIRE Pizzaplex is decked out with Halloween decor by the month of October, on the last day of September almost all S.T.A.F.F. Bots are directed to put them up.

The Glamrocks are even given specially designed costumes to perform in. Freddy is usually Frankenstin's Monster (Dreadbear), Roxy is a diva werewolf, Chica a witch, Monty a swamp thing and Bonnie is Dracula.

Foxy and Mangle don't dress up speaking of which, Foxy does a Halloween exclusive performance on October singing some spooky shanties/stories, his favorite to sing is The Beast of Pirates Bay by Voltaire.

A trick-or-treat event is hosted on Halloween where children look for dressed up S.T.A.F.F. Bots with containers of candy scattered around the building to collect some delicious treats. (and believe me they're generous)

Mazercise is converted into a cornfield themed maze with animatronics like Twisted Wolf, Dreadbear, and even Jack-O-Moon lurking about, the objective of said maze is to find a way out without getting caught. Much like in HW photoshoot cutouts are scattered around for players to hide behind. Whoever manages to escape without being dragged out by the animatronics wins a special mystery prize.

The Daycare does some halloween themed crafts, like masks, clay jack-o-lanterns, paper bats and more!

The Freddy Fazbear Virtual Experience becomes available to play in the Arcade as further 'confirmation' that the supposed haunted history of Fazbear Entertainment is merely a bunch of ghost stories.

The Fazbear Theatre plays a plethora Halloween special episodes of Freddy and Friends.

Mystic Hippo is placed outside the Arcade to perform fortune telling.

Halloween themed prizes become available such as Nightmarrionne plushies, spooky masks, balloons, themed merch, candy pails ectara.

[thelesbianluthor]

I am pretty new and not as involved to the d20 fandom but seeing people say that Neverafter failed as a horror and fairytale season bc the players were not interested in the idea is so stupid. It's not like you HAVE to like something but saying that the players did not care? It's just objectively wrong.

Lou's explanation of his view of Pinocchio and any Emily interaction with the wolf alone elevate those fairy tales. If there is something that can never be said about the Intrepid Heroes in my opinion is that they don't care about the story they are telling.

I think people see the light hearted moments and jokes in between the horror points and immediately think that it's because they are not committed to it but in reality you have to realize that to make something like that you need to break the tension at times and have moments of release. If you don't have the release you won't feel the full tension when needed.

Also they need as people to breathe during the long ass shoots, you cannot expect them to be constantly on edge for your entertainment?

Now I am no dnd expert and my opinions are merely based on the story and the role playing/acting itself as a spectator but I will never take anyone that says that the cast doesn't care about telling the story seriously.

The thing that got me into watching their campaigns with my very minimal dnd knowledge was exactly that. The heart they put in everything they do. The way they always reach deep and try their best at telling a story that is worthwhile.

Some characters and stories may not resonate with some people or you may not vibe with the way things are structured/developed and that's okay. But doubting their commitment and genuineness puts you in the wrong immediately in my eyes.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Squid Game Au | Dabi

Working for a secret organization that murdered its players on a massive scale wasn’t as horrifying as it sounds. Granted, it was truly mortifying but you get used to it. You don’t show your face, you don’t flinch, and you listen to the Frontman. If you keep quiet and stay in your lane it isn’t long before you start moving up the ladder. From triangle to circle to square–it was like any other job. Like in any typical occupation if your boss, finds favor in your physique or otherwise you naturally get promoted. Thus was your fate as you went from being a mere circle to becoming the masked servant in the VIP room where you subject yourself to the whims of the richest and most loathsome patrons to the beloved Squid Game.

Today you were aiding the VIP with dyed black hair and stapled scars around his neck. He later instructed you to call him Touya. But when he first departed on his helicopter, his companions called him:

Dabi. 

Dabi or Touya is a wolf that doesn’t bother to conceal himself. Acting as the outlier to his troupe he trailed behind more interested in entertaining himself. Specifically with you. 

“Well, aren’t you cute? 

The moment he walked in his brazen blue eyes shifted beneath his mask. Sticking to you like glue as you weave behind each of the VIP spaces with only the finest scotch in hand. Feeling his burning stare on the back of your head you do him last, fully expecting to be halted from returning to your post. You were right to do so as he pulls at your suit, holding you in place as you were still bent down in a motion to pour into his cup.

“Sit, cutie. No need to be scared.”

He smirks when he says that. Clenching the silken fabric in between his polished fingertips until you did exactly that. Sitting beside him on the plush couch surrounded by exotic women and men painted in the patterns of seductive predators. Lifting you from the velvety seat into his lap, your bottom comes to rest on the crux of his crotch; already exposed by the widened stance of his legs. 

Throughout the games Touya holds you firm as he bucks his hips, causing you to bounce at the force. He holds you firmly by the hips rubbing tentatively as the contestants begin to fight. At this time he’s not really focused on the games. You know this because you feel the rough heated lips against the skin of your neck. His hands begin to wander as he squeezes the meat of your thighs, your stomach, your chest–he helps himself to all of it. But he still proposes his commentary, a little preoccupied but willing to participate.

“Mmmm~Tastes good…I’m guessing 56 isn’t going to make it. They have that ugly look that dead people get already.”

Touya despite his protests to his friends does get interested. Only holding you tight to his chest as he watches the show. Sucking his teeth in your ears as he watches a bet of his go down the drain. Sometimes his hands slip into your suit but only to rub against the warm texture of your skin. If you didn’t know any better you’d say his touch was loving

You admit you get comfortable, trading your stiffness for relaxed leisure as you let your body meld into Touya’s.  The Front Man may send you a look but the moment you move to straighten up your VIP yells at your boss.

“Oi don’t you dare look at them! They're busy pleasing me, so just turn around and do your job.”

For some reason, he really hates the Front Man as he insults and throws his glass near the masked man’s head. You don’t flinch but you silently hope that the VIP’s behavior isn’t attributed to you. As if to calm your nerves the patron underneath you held you tighter, shifting his position to cradle you against the lying seat.

“Oi better not fire them! I better see them next time I come around.”

And he does. Immediately calling you to his side when he does show up to watch the Squid Game. He touches you without restraint; as if actually missing you for the year you were apart.  Despite how much he seems to indulge in you he never wishes to disappear with you, not until his fifth visit. That was the first time he led you away from the main viewing room; smirking as his friends jeered.

“Oooh Dabi and the cutie are slipping away! But your going to miss the big final!”

“Piss off.”

“Ooooo so possessive?”

The fifth time is also the time he makes his proposal promise. He kisses you like a starving animal, wild without reason as he devours you. He would take off your mask but his gaze keeps drifting to the different decor of the room. He knows you two are being watched.  In between moans and groans he proposes a change of space.

“Why-ah-don’t we take this back to my place~!”

You protest adamantly that you must stay…how else were you supposed to collect your check? Even going so far as to pin it on your superior, who was the only one who could actually shift some weight in place of the host. He growls and you yip letting your hands grip the grooves of the golden-dusted wall. 

In the panting exhaustion that concludes you vaguely register the off-handed musing that comes from behind. With a tone that only wished for death, he spoke through his teeth and under his breath making your skin raise into a tizzy of goosebumps.

“...tter say, yes. Or I’ll burn the prude myself.”

You both worry and praise his departure. Even so, you find your inner self swooning at the way his crystal orbs look at you through his wolf mask with an uncontained want. Flicking away to glare at the Front Man. You have the sneaking suspicion that his sixth visit will be your last…that is if you aren’t dead before then.