#probably nothing i say would be new but whatever

[flower-boi16]

Octavia’s reaction is 100% justified, actually

So I already made an entire reblog about this but I feel as if this topic is deserving of being its own post because the fandom’s reaction to Octavia has hit a new low. I’m just gonna paste what I said from this reblog here.

So think of this; young girl living in a home with a close relationship to her father. The father is always there to comfort the young girl and even sang a song when she was little as a lullaby to help her sleep due to having nightmares of her father not being there for her, telling her that no matter what, he’ll never leave and she will always be okay.

Cut to many years later, and, suddenly, things change. The father that the young girl held close to…suddenly cheats on his wife and starts obsessing over a random imp over her, even to the point of making sexual remarks about him around her even when she’s uncomfortable. Everything was turned upside down for her, the parents who previously loved each other now loathe on another, and now the father who held his daughter dear starts neglecting her in favor of this random imp.

Which leads the daughter to grow a fear that her father will leave her in favor of that imp, a perfectly understandable one given that it was established before that she has fears of abandonment. THEN when that father takes the daughter to a carnival that she hated when she was a child, he spends most of the day flirting with that imp on the trip that was SUPPOSED TO CHEER HER UP. The daughter gets fed up with this and runs off where the father follows suit. The daughter expresses her fears of abandonment to her father and asks him if he is really going to leave her in favor of that imp. The father says no, realizing his mistake and assures her that he’ll never leave her and decides to take her to a place she actually enjoys as a way to make up for that…

…and then cut to 17 episodes later where the daughter then witnesses her father THROWING HIS LIFE AWAY ON LIVE TELEVISION FOR AN IMP. He told her that he would never leave her, that he wouldn’t chose that imp over her…and he does that with no hesitation. Without even telling her. Octavia doesn’t know shit about whatever close relationship Blitz and Stolas have, to her, Blitz is just some random nobody imp that Stolas is for some reason horny over.

And this effectively cements to Octavia that, she doesn’t matter to her father. He really would choose an imp over her. Sinmass further drives this home with a heart breaking song Octavia sings that offers as a dark reprise of you will be okay, as Octavia sings about her resentment and heart break over her father betraying her trust, for LYING to her. She says she’ll never be the same now and fully accepts the fact that Stolas cares more about Blitz than her. And she then finds out that Stolas was taking anti-depressant pills, making her believe that she was just nothing but a burden, an obligation to Stolas this whole time.

If she wasn’t, why would he leave her without hesitation? It’s infuriating to me how the one time the show has good writting the fandom STILL makes insane arguments trying to defend Stolas.

Is Stolas allowed to form other relationships outside of Octavia? Yea, he is, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that Stolas was placing those new relationships above his old ones, he chose Blitz over Octavia, his daughter, his FAMILY.

”probably called her a million times” actually we saw him call once and Octavia was happy to answer until Stella wouldn’t let her, taking Octavia’s phone and mocking Stolas for trying to call her. Octavia doesn’t see the whole picture because SHE DOESNT HAVE THE WHOLE PICTURE! Stolas never communicated ANYTHING to her, not about what was going on between him and Stella, and not about his relationship with Blitz. Stolas didn’t give Octavia ANY information about what was going on and guess what? Seeing Stars and Sinmass show the exact consequences of that.

In Seeing Stars Octavia runs away to try and see the stars for herself because Stolas was focusing more on arguing with Stella than her, which leads Octavia to thinking that Stolas hates Stella more than he loves her, and she wouldn’t have started believing that IF STOLAS COMMUNICATED AND TOLD HER ABOUT THE ABUSE DURING OF THEIR MARRIAGE. Therefore she would be more understanding.

And in Sinmas, If Stolas ever explained to Octavia at any point in the show the full context of his relationship with Blitz, that would, at the very least, make Octavia understand his decision. Yet he never did. Octavia doesn’t have the full context for ANY of these situations because Stolas for SOME REASON never communicated to her.

And can people just fuck off with the whole “omg Octavia is such an immature/selfish teenager!” BECAUSE SHES NOT!! She’s not being a bratty, emotional teen for *checks notes* wanting attention from her father. Sinsmas is legitimately one of the best episodes of season 2 because it actually addresses Stolas acts as a father and calls him out for it, creating drama that doesn’t feel artificial for once and ends up being a step in the right direction for both Stolas AND Octavia as characters. But it’s sad to me that some people still miss blatantly obvious details like this.

Octavia is not a bratty teenager having a tantrum, she’s a girl that had her life turned upside down and is suffering through a divorce. I wish most of the fandom would actually see that.

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part iv]

She's weird, she's creepy, she's a total stalker, and now she's... loitering outside your door...? [part iii]

You paced your living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, teeth chewing the inside of your cheek. You felt like an idiot.

What were you thinking showing up to her house uninvited, banging on her door and shouting her name like a lunatic? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help but feel that showing up like you did had been a mistake. 

The look in her eye when she opened the door haunted you. It wasn’t anger, not really. It was something else entirely. Fear? Guilt? Whatever it was, you hated that look on her.

You stopped pacing for a moment, your arms falling to your sides as you let out a heavy sigh. What was the point of trying to fix things now? You’d probably just scared her away for good. Why did you always have to push things? You should’ve just left her alone, I mean clearly she didn’t want to be friends. 

But then you couldn’t help but wonder: why the hell had she been following you then??

You groaned and flopped onto your couch as your mind raced. It didn’t make any sense. If she didn’t want anything to do with you, why had she gone out of her way to be near you? Why had she constantly stared at you from afar as if she wanted to say something?

None of it added up, and the more you thought about it, the more frustrated you felt. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she wasn’t following you at all, and you’d just misread the whole situation. But… no. The way she’d looked at you when you confronted her, it was written all over her face. She’d been following you. You were sure of it.

“Ugh.” you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. This was hopeless.

Every time you thought you had a grasp on her, she’d do something to throw you off completely. She was impossible to read, like a puzzle missing half its pieces, or a windup monkey without its gears. And as much as you wanted to forget about it, about her, you couldn’t.

Because deep down, you cared. You hated seeing her so… isolated, so withdrawn. And even if she didn’t want to be friends, even if you’d scared her away, you couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t deserve this.

Pushing yourself off the couch, you started pacing again. You wanted to fix this, to figure out some way to show her that you weren’t just trying to bother her. But how? After the way she’d turned you away, what was the point?

Part of you wanted to march back to her house and try again. But the other part screamed at you to stay put, to not make things worse, to wait until she was ready.

But god did you want to see her.

You huffed again. You felt like a stupid teenage girl kicking her feet and hitting her pillows while whining about her latest highschool crush. You wanted to see her, you wanted to see her so bad it was driving you crazy. It was irrational really. She was a total freak. New in town, avoidant, creepy, and frankly, a little bit of a bitch. All negative traits associated with someone you shouldn’t be seeing. So why did you want to so badly? All your alarm bells were going off but it was hard to tell if they were yelling or singing.

Either way, you decided that this time you wouldn’t be impulsive. You’d choose logic over feeling, because obviously that’s what any other responsible adult would do… obviously. Logic over feeling. Rationality over impulse. It sounded easy in theory, but as you sat there, staring at the blank wall across the room, it felt impossible. 

What if she thought you hated her? What if she thought you didn’t care? Or worse, what if she thought you pitied her?

She’d probably slam the door in your face again if she thought for a second you were pitying her. You knew nothing about her yet you couldn’t help but feel like she would be the type.

You groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself. "I'm ridiculous."

You stayed still for what felt like hours, the only sound you could hear being the faint ticking of the clock. You couldn’t sit here forever, pacing between guilt and worry. But you’d already decided: no more impulsive decisions.

…

So why were you halfway to the door before you even realized it?

Your hand froze on the doorknob. You couldn’t go over there again. What happened to all that logic over feeling talk? Before you could scold yourself and retreat back to the couch, a sound from the other side of the door made you pause.

A shuffle. A creak. The distinct sound of someone sighing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you were hearing things. After a short pause you decided that it wouldn’t hurt to just check, for your own peace of mind if not anything. 

Turning the doorknob to quickly open the door, the sight made your breath hitch.

Powder was crouching on your doorstep, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. Her eyes were wide, her hair messy, and she looked just as nervous as you felt.

“You!” You shrieked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"What... the hell are you doing here?" you managed to ask after a long pause, your voice softer this time so as to not freak her out.

She shot to her feet so fast she almost lost balance, quickly tucking something into her pocket. Her eyes darted to the ground as she fidgeted with her fingers. “I don’t- I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t what? Just crouching on my porch for fun?”

She looked back up at you with a sour expression, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. “I didn’t think you’d open the door!” she blurted out defensively.

“It’s my house!” you said, exasperated.

“I know that!” she snapped back, louder than she intended. Her eyes widened, and her voice softened almost immediately. “I just... I wasn’t ready.”

“For what?” you asked, but she didn’t answer.

The air was heavy and the atmosphere was thick as you waited for her to respond. Her lips parted again as if to say something, but instead, she shook her head and spun on her heel, dropping onto the top porch step with a huff.

You took a minute to look at her. Just a couple minutes ago you were telling yourself to stay away from her, and although you agreed, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for her visit. It felt right, y’know, her being around.

Staring at the back of her messily cut hair, you wondered why she’d dropped by in the first place. Two days ago she was shooing you away like a fly, but now, for whatever reason, she came to you this time. You wondered what changed.

You sighed as you followed her, sitting down a few feet away. Neither of you said anything at first, the silence filled only by the far away sounds of the townsfolk heading home as the sun set.

Finally, you spoke first, your voice quieter this time. “You know, you don't make much sense.”

She didn’t look at you, her eyes fixed on the sidewalk below. 

“I know.” she muttered.

“Then help me out.” you said, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “What’s going on here?”

“I... I don’t know.” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to look at her, noticing the way her fists tightened. For someone so closed off, she looked more lost than anything else.

You felt a pang of guilt, and although you knew she'd never stand for being pitied, you couldn't help but feel bad.

“Well...” you said after a moment, leaning back slightly, “whatever it is, there’s no rush.”

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say anything, but the fact that she didn’t immediately run away felt like progress.

‘There's no rush’ the phrase replayed in her head for the millionth time. It was just like you to say something like that wasn’t it? Sweet, patient, so sure of yourself. Meanwhile, she felt like her insides were about to explode.

She hated how much she cared about your words, how they lingered in the back of her mind, how they actually managed to reassure her.

“You’re being too nice to me.” she said finally.

“How so?” You asked, keeping your tone light.

She shook her head. “You just are.”

You groaned dramatically. “You’re so confusing.”

She laughed dryly in response.

After a short pause you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.

“I like being nice to you.” you said simply.

She froze. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I don’t know how to deal with that.” she admitted finally, her voice small.

“Then don’t” you replied. “Not right now at least.”

Powder looked away, blinking rapidly. She stood abruptly. “I have to go.”

You stood too, subconsciously copying her. “Powder, wait–”

She turned to face you, looking at you fully for the first time since you two sat down, before quickly cutting you off. “Here, this was for you.” 

She extended her fist towards you before opening it to reveal a crushed and wilted flower. 

You hesitated before accepting it, it was a cute offer but you were more confused than anything. You stared at it for a second before the sound of her boots rushing down the steps caught you off guard. 

“H-Hold on!” you called out.

She stopped in her tracks, turning her head slightly to look at you through her peripherals.

“Are you… free tomorrow?”

. . .

it wouldve been real fucking funny if i made her trip and fall down the stairs

ANYWAYS THEYRE SO CUTEEE AWWW (i say as i am the one who wrote it)

TRUSTTTTTTT that PART 5 WILL COME A LOTTT SOONER!!!! updating takes me awhile when im not sure how to go about the story BUT I HAVE RLLY CUTE AND FUN IDEAS FOR THEIR HANGOUT SO WRITING IT WILL BE MUCH EASIER!!!

also posting this on my bday is so funny to me like wow life of a teenage girl

[taglist ( ;´ - `;)!!]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed @iamastar @lostdreamingwallflower @errorlovernotfound99 @raven437 @cartalige @poncho-fisch @crushh-existz @slxtcity @jinxslapdog @radioheadfan699 @alduinworldeater11 @dulleyeddreamer @alicenasflowers

[USERS I CANT TAG 4 SUM REASON (◞‸◟；)]

@sacrasm-is-my-form-of-attack @wonylvxv

[qwertyprophecy]

Mortholme Post-Mortem

The Dark Queen of Mortholme has been out for two weeks, and I've just been given an excellent excuse to write some more about its creation by a lenghty anonymous ask.

Under the cut, hindsight on the year spent making Mortholme and answers to questions about game dev, grouped under the following topics:

Time spent on development Programming Obstacles Godot Animation Pixel art Environment assets Writing Completion Release

Regarding time spent on development

Nope, I’ve got no idea anymore how long I spent on Mortholme. It took a year but during that time I worked on like two other games and whatever else. And although I started with the art, I worked on all parts simultaneously to avoid getting bored. This is what I can say:

Art took a ridiculous amount of time, but that was by choice (or compulsion, one might say). I get very excitable and particular about it. At most I was making about one or two Hero animations in a day (for a total of 8 + upgraded versions), but anything involving the Queen took multiple times longer. When I made the excecutive decision that her final form was going to have a bazillion tentacles I gave up on scheduling altogether.

Coding went quickly at the start when I was knocking out a feature after another, until it became the ultimate slow-burn hurdle at the end. Testing, bugfixing, and playing Jenga with increasingly unwieldy code kept oozing from one week to the next. For months, probably? My memory’s shot but I have a mark on my calendar on the 18th of August that says “Mortholme done”. Must’ve been some optimistic deadline before the ooze.

Writing happened in extremely productive week-long bursts followed by nothing but nitpicky editing while I focused on other stuff. Winner in the “changed most often” category, for sure.

Sound was straightforward, after finishing a new set of animations I spent a day or two to record and edit SFX for them. Music I originally scheduled two weeks for, but hubris and desire for more variants bumped it to like a month.

Regarding programming

The Hero AI is certainly the part that I spent most of my coding time on. The basic way the guaranteed dodging works is that all the Queen’s attacks send a signal to the Hero, who calculates a “danger zone” based on the type of attack and the Queen’s location. Then, if the Hero is able to dodge that particular attack (a probability based on how much it's been used & story progression), they run a function to dodge it.

Each attack has its own algorithm that produces the best safe target position to go to based on the Hero’s current position (and other necessary actions like jumping). Those algorithms needed a whole lot of testing to code counters for all the scenarios that might trip the Hero up.

The easiest or at least most fun parts for me to code are the extra bells and whistles that aren’t critical but add flair. Like in the Hero’s case, the little touches that make them seem more human: a reaction speed delay that increases over time, random motions and overcompensation that decrease as they gain focus, late-game Hero taking prioritising aggressive positiniong, a “wait for last second” function that lets the Hero calculate how long it’ll take them to move to safety and use the information to squeeze an extra attack in…

The hardest attack was the magic circle, as it introduced a problem in my code so far. The second flare can overlap with other attacks, meaning the Hero had to keep track of two danger zones at once. For a brief time I wanted to create a whole new system that would constantly update a map of all current danger zones—that would allow for any number of overlapping attacks, which would be really cool! Unfortunately it didn’t gel with my existing code, and I couldn’t figure out its multitudes of problems since, well…

Regarding obstacles

Thing is, I’m hot garbage as a programmer. My game dev’s all self-taught nonsense. So after a week of failing to get this cool system to work, I scrapped it and instead made a spaghetti code monstrosity that made magic circle run on a separate danger zone, and decided I’d make no more overlapping attacks. That’s easy; I just had to buffer the timing of the animation locks so that the Hero would always have time to move away. (I still wanted to keep the magic circle, since it’s fun for the player to try and trick the Hero with it.)

There’s my least pretty yet practical solo dev advice: if you get stuck because you can’t do something, you can certainly try to learn how to do it, but occasionally the only way to finish a project within a decade to work around those parts and let them be a bit crap.

I’m happy to use design trickery, writing and art to cover for my coding skills. Like, despite the anonymous asker’s description, the Hero’s dodging is actually far from perfect. I knew there was no way it was ever going to be, which is why I wrote special dialogue to account for a player finding an exploit that breaks the intended gameplay. (And indeed, when the game was launched, someone immediately found it!)

Regarding Godot

It’s lovely! I switched from Unity years ago and it’s so much simpler and more considerate of 2D games. The way its node system emphasises modularity has improved my coding a lot.

New users should be aware that a lot of tutorials and advice you find online may be for Godot 3. If something doesn’t work, search for what the Godot 4 equivalent is.

Regarding animation

I’m a professional animator, so my list of tips and techniques is a tad long… I’ll just give a few resource recommendations: read up on the classic 12 principles of animation (or the The Illusion of Life, if you’d like the whole book) and test each out for yourself. Not every animation needs all of these principles, but basically every time you’ll be looking at an animation and wondering how to make it better, the answer will be in paying attention to one or more of them.

Game animation is its own beast, and different genres have their own needs. I’d recommend studying animations that do what you’d like to do, frame by frame. If you’re unsure of how exactly to analyse animation for its techniques, youtube channel New Frame Plus shows an excellent example.

Oh, and film yourself some references! The Queen demanded so much pretend mace swinging that it broke my hoover.

Regarding pixel art

The pixel art style was picked for two reasons: 1. to evoke a retro game feel to emphasise the meta nature of the narrative, and 2. because it’s faster and more forgiving to animate in than any of my other options.

At the very start I was into the idea of doing a painterly style—Hollow Knight was my first soulslike—but quickly realised that I’d either have to spend hundreds of hours animating the characters, or design them in a simplistic way that I deemed too cutesy for this particular game. (Hollow Knight style, one day I’d love to emulate you…)

I don’t use a dedicated program, just Photoshop for everything like a chump. Pixel art doesn’t need anything fancy, although I’m sure specialist programs will keep it nice and simple.

Pixel art’s funny; its limitations make it dependent on symbolism, shortcuts and viewer interpretation. You could search for some tutorials on basic principles (like avoiding “jaggies” or the importance of contrast), but ultimately you’ll simply want to get a start in it to find your own confidence in it. I began dabbling years ago by asking for character requests on Tumblr and doodling them in pixels in whatever way I could think of.

Regarding environment assets

The Queen’s throne room consists of two main sprites—one background and one separate bit of the door for the Hero disappear behind—and then about fifty more for the lighting setup. There’s six different candle animations, there’s lines on the floor that need to go on top of character reflections, all the candle circles and lit objects are separated so that the candles can be extinguished asynchronously; and then there’s purple phase 2 versions of all of the above.

This is all rather dumb. There’s simpler ways in Godot to do 2D lighting with shaders and a built-in system (I use those too), but I wanted control over the exact colours so I just drew everything in Photoshop the way I wanted it. Still, it highlights how mostly you only need a single background asset and separated foreground objects; except if you need animated objects or stuff that needs to change while the game’s running, you’ll get a whole bunch more.

I wholeheartedly applaud having a go at making your own game art, even if you don’t have any art background! The potential for cohesion in all aspects of design—art, game, narrative, sound—is at the heart of why video games are such an exciting medium!

Regarding writing

Finding the voices of the Queen and the Hero was the quick part of the process. They figured that out they are almost as soon as writing started. I’d been mulling this game over in my mind for so long, I had already a specific idea in mind of what the two of them stood for, conceptually and thematically. When they started bantering, I felt like all I really had to do was to guide it along the storyline, and then polish.

What ended up taking so long was that there was too much for them to say for how short the game needed to be to not feel overstretched. Since I’d decided to go with two dialogue options on my linear story, it at least gave me twice the amount of dialogue that I got to write, but it wasn’t enough!

The first large-scale rewrite was me going over the first draft and squeezing in more interesting things for the Queen and the Hero to discuss, more branching paths and booleans. There was this whole thing where the player’s their dialogue choices over multiple conversations would lead them to about four alternate interpretations of why the Queen is the way she is. This was around the time I happened to finally play Disco Elysium, so of course I also decided to also add a ton of microreactivity (ie. small changes in dialogue that acknowledge earlier player choices) to cram in even more alternate dialogue. I spent ages tinkering with the exact nuances till I was real proud of it.

Right until the playtesters of this convoluted contraption found the story to be unclear and confusing. For some reason. So for my final rewrite, I picked out my favourite bits and cut everything else. With the extra branching gone, there was more room to improve the pacing so the core of the story could breathe. The microreactivity got to stay, at least!

A sample of old dialogue from the overcomplicated version:

Regarding completion

The question was “what kept me going to actually finish the game, since that is a point many games never even get to meet?” and it’s a great one because I forgot that’s a thing. Difficulties finishing projects, that is—I used to think it was hard, but not for many years. Maybe I’ve completed so many small-scale games already that it hardly seems that unreasonable of an expectation? (Game jams. You should do game jams.)

I honestly never had any doubt I was going to finish Mortholme. When I started in late autumn last year, I was honestly expecting the concept to be too clunky to properly function; but I wished to indulge in silliness and make it exist anyways. That vision would’ve been easy to finish, a month or two of low stakes messing around, no biggie. (Like a game jam!)

Those months ran out quickly as I had too much fun making the art to stop. It must’ve been around the time I made this recording that it occurred to me that even if the game was going to be clunky, it could still genuinely work on the back of good enough storytelling technique—not just writing, but also the animation and the Hero’s evolving behaviour during the gameplay segments which I’d been worried about. The reaction to my early blogging was also heartening. Other people could also imagine how this narrative could be interesting!

A few weeks after that I started planning out the narrative beats I wanted the dialogue to reach, and came to the conclusion that I really, really wanted it to work. Other people had to see this shit, I thought. There’s got to be freaks out there who’d love to experience this tragedy, and I’m eager to deliver.

That’s why I was fine with the project’s timeline stretching out. If attention to detail and artistry was going to make this weird little story actually come to life, then great, because that’s exactly the part of development I love doing most. Projects taking longer than expected can be frustrating, but accepting that as a common part of game dev is what allows confidence in eventual their completion regardless.

Regarding release

Dear anonymous’s questions didn’t involve post-release concerns, but it seems fitting to wrap up the post-mortem by talking about the two things about Mortholme's launch that were firsts for me, and thus I was unprepared for.

1. This was the first action game I've coded. Well, sort of—I consider Mortholme to be a story first and foremost, with gameplay so purposefully obnoxious it benefits from not being thought of as a “normal” game. Still, the action elements are there. For someone who usually sticks to making puzzle games since they’re easier to code, this was my most mechanically fragile game yet. So despite all my attempts at playtesting and failsafes, it had a whole bunch of bugs on release.

Game-breaking bugs, really obvious bugs, weird and confusing bugs. It took me over a week to fix all that was reported (and I’m only hoping they indeed are fully fixed). That feels slow; I should’ve expected it was going to break so I could’ve been faster to respond. Ah well, next time I know what I’ll be booking my post-release week for.

2. This was my first game that I let players give me money for. Sure, it’s pay-what-you-want, but for someone as allergic to business decisions as I am, it was a big step. I guess I was worried of being shown that nobody would consider my art worth financial compensation. Well, uh, that fear has gone out of the window now. I’m blown away by how kind and generous the players of Mortholme have been with their donations.

I can’t imagine it's likely to earn a living wage from pouring hundreds of hours into pay-what-you-want passion projects, but the support has me heartened to seek out a future where I could make these weird stories and a living both.

Those were the unexpected parts. The part I must admit I was expecting—but still infinitely grateful for—was that Mortholme did in fact reach them freaks who’d find it interesting. The responses, comments, analyses, fan works (there’s fic and art!! the dream!!), inspiration, and questions (like the ones prompting me to write this post-mortem) people have shared with me thanks to Mortholme… They’ve all truly been what I was hoping for back when I first gave myself emotions thinking about a mean megalomaniac and stubborn dipshit.

Thank you for reading, thank you for playing, and thank you for being around.

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 for the first time

― luigi thinks of you in his cell. that's it that's the fic.

notes :: thank you for all the support to show my appreciation i would like to throw a rusty screwdriver into your hearts i love u guys!!

The thing they don't tell you about prison is that it's really cold.

No, seriously. It's really fucking cold, even here in NYC where it's already cold to begin with - it's like you're in the back of a deep freezer in a shitty jumpsuit, because you kind of are. It's cold enough that I have to curl up into a ball on my "bed", knees to my chest in order to try and stay warm.

And because I have nothing to do, I find myself staring at the white, emotionless wall, and doing that sort of thing is kind of a surefire way to get your mind to wander. One of the tried and true methods, if you will.

It's lonely here. Sure, the inmates like me, they're nice, but I mean... I'm not really in the mood to socialize with anyone. This whole ordeal has sucked the energy out of me. I've been being thrown around the country for days, ever since they found me.

I don't even want to think about what's happening outside of this place, either. I'm sure people have lots of thoughts and things to say about what I did.

I wonder if she saw it.

The news, I mean. Of course she saw it, who didn't? I bet her and all my old classmates and friends are probably talking about it, about me, what I'd done - right now. Trying to pick apart my motive, maybe grieving about the life I'd thrown away. Guess I had a lot ahead of me.

Can't help but wonder what she's thinking. I wonder if she's disappointed in me. Or maybe proud. Why am I thinking so much about what she thinks of me? It was one fling, from ages ago, I can't even remember when... at one of countless parties, and yet I still see how she looked underneath me so clearly.

It wasn't really just a fling. I talked to her about it - about how the system was falling apart (if it was ever together to begin with) and I felt the need to put all this privilege I'd been granted to good use. How I felt like I had to do something. She told me about herself, too, how she'd been fucked over time and time again and how she knew countless others who felt the same way.

Actually, yeah, we spent a lot of time together, thinking back on it. She'd come over on those cold winter nights I remember so fondly and we'd keep warm together, whatever way we could find. She was kind of... below me, I guess. Lower class. Not that I cared that much, though. Didn't make her any less of a lover.

And then I went radio silent. Then I figured out exactly what that thing I had to do was, and I put all my effort towards it. I didn't have time for love anymore. I had to take the chance I'd been given and fix things.

So I started leaving her on seen, stopped answering my door, even when she'd yell that she knew I was there, stopped showing up at the places I'd loved before, I stopped everything. Dropped off the map and left nothing but a ghost in my place.

She probably hates me.

I'd like to think that maybe this brings her solace... that maybe the idea that "it wasn't because you did something wrong" made her feel better, but I doubt it does.

When I get out of here, if I even do, she'll probably have forgotten all about me, because everybody forgets. I'll be old news by the time that day comes, and everything we did, everything we wanted to do - would just be a hazy memory.

I still remember seeing her for the first time. I remember the way her eyes pierced through my soul, and I remember how it made me feel inside.

I wonder if she remembers that too.

[fascinatedscrawls]

Take a Byte

"Huh." Danny stood up straight and leaned sideways, simultaneously standing on something flat and nothing at all. "Well, that's different."

Floating up (for a given definition of the word) a little he tried reaching out to what he was going to call the 'ceiling', but maybe 'screen' was a better word?

"Different?" The question was a little muffled, the view of Tucker's frown was almost too clear though. And big. "Different how? We've done this before."

"Yeah, but usually only when I'm too busy fighting Technus to look around." Danny pointed out, doing just that. Turning away from the mind bogglingly large view of his friend's face, Danny tried to orient himself. It was difficult to do in a place he knew was 2D even though his eyes insisted there was a third dimension. Viewing Tucker's PDA from the inside was always a bit odd.

Floating upwards, or maybe just to the left? Whatever, he made his way over to the list of application icons cluttering the floor/wall and tried to grab one. He felt the pressure of whatever it was for just a moment before the app - the calculator - opened up. Jolting above it in surprise, Danny reached out and hit the hilariously huge '8' button to see if he could.

"Dude, why do you have your calculator on your main screen?" Danny teased, ignoring Tucker's sigh as zipped down to hit the '0' twice.

"Because I don't like bringing a separate one to math class, which we have nearly every school day. You know that." A finger loomed large and Danny was quick to move to the side as Tucker tapped out of the application, each interaction causing a little zap of electricity between the screen and the PDA's display.

"Fair." He made a mental note to try and avoid that if at all possible. Sure, the arc seemed to start at the floor instead of Tuck's finger, but probably not fun to be near either way. "Can you open a webpage? So far Technus has stayed mostly local, but if he ever gets the bright idea to surf the web to different locations I'd like to have some experience navigating the place."

"Sure." Tucker used the stylus this time, the plastic pen coming down like one of his parent's inventions and zipping here and there as a browser opened below Danny's feet. A webpage opened, then another as Tucker entered in an address.

"Whoa, hang on." Danny flew closer as Tucker hesitated before clicking through a pop-up banner.

"What?"

"It's just," putting one hand on the edge of the banner, Danny trailed off as he looked closer at the bottom side of it, the one hidden from the screen. "Dude, when they say cookies, I didn't know they were literal?"

"They aren't." Tucker asserted confidently. "Or, rather, they are but only in the technological version."

"Hm, are you sure?" Sniffing a little, Danny tried to identify the small package full of delicious looking baked goods hanging from the banner. Chocolate chip definitely, but maybe with a ginger snap thrown in? It smelled spicy.

"Man, no one would know how to code in actual cookies to a webpage, especially not the local news station." He brandished the stylus again only to huff exasperatedly when Danny flew up to wave him off. "Come on, you have to be pulling my leg."

"Are you talking to your PDA again?" Danny could hardly hear Sam's question, but it did a nice job of distracting Tucker.

Danny flew to the little banner as Tucker tried defending himself against Sam's teasing and flipped a few options before accepting the necessary cookies. When the final button was pressed a little bag of cookies (just the chocolate chip ones, it looked like) dropped from the banner into his hand. Opening it up, he inspected one (yep, looked like a cookie) before taking a bite.

"Uh, whatcha got there Danny?" Sam asked filling the ceiling with her suspicious look, Tucker clearly having turned it her way to 'prove' he was talking to Danny.

"A cookie!" The words were a bit hard to get out around the mouthful, but he was sure the one he held up to showcase got the message across.

"What?" Tucker appeared again in a blur. "Danny, where did you get those from?"

"The webpage." Sometimes Tucker asked the dumbest questions. "I told you they were real."

"Cookies aren't - they don't - it doesn't work like that!"

Sam took the PDA from Tucker when it was clear he was having a crisis. She left him to his mumbles and instead asked, "Are they good? Do you know if they're vegan?"

"They're alright," Danny put another one in his mouth to try and pin down why they weren't great as he read the back of the package. "A bit stale, I guess. And, uh, no idea on the vegan part - this just says they're made from 'top quality ones and zeroes'."

"There's advertising on the webpage cookies?"

They both ignored Tucker's baffled question as Sam thought his response over, a frown forming before she asked, "Wait, aren't you just ones and zeroes when you're in there?"

"Theoretically. That's what Tucker believes at least."

Her frown turned a bit disgusted.

"Does that make eating the cookies cannibalism?"

That made Danny hesitate. He held the cookie he was about to eat out in front of him and inspected it for a beat, then remembered every other time they discussed cannibalism recently and popped it in his mouth anyway.

"Can't be worse than needing to drink ecto, right?"

Sam scrunched her nose up, but clearly remembered how she didn't win that fight, especially after Frostbite brought out the 'medically necessary' parts. The PDA was snatched back before she could respond and Tucker's face was even closer than before, his eye nearly the size of Danny.

"Danny! You don't know what's in those! I didn't see which ones you allowed, what if they have trackers in there?!"

There weren't, Danny made sure of that, but seeing Tucker all worked up was kind of funny so he just shrugged.

"Would that mean they could track him outside of your PDA though?"

"That's it, I'm pulling you out." Tucker started the process and Danny responded by shoving the last of the cookies he was holding in his mouth. "Danny! Stop that! No!"

Chewing faster (and nearly choking in his haste) Danny managed to swallow them down before being hurled back into reality, the switch from 2D to 3D making him stumble right into Tucker's hands, where his friend shook him by the shoulders frantically.

"Spit them out!"

"Keep that up and I might hurl them at you, but in the least pleasant way possible." All the shaking was making him a bit sick.

"Why would you do that?" Tucker let go of him to put a hand to his hat. "Who knows what they translated to here!"

Smacking his lips a little, Danny brushed a few crumbs from his hands then reached in his pocket to retrieve the package and the final cookie he kept inside it, still chocolatey if a bit crumbly. "Looks to me like they're still cookies."

"Hm," Sam grabbed it and inspected the packaging for herself. "Do you think this makes them vegan and cruelty free or does being a cookie from a corporate webpage cancel that last part out?"

Danny hummed as Tucker snagged the package to freak out over, before offering, "I could try to grab one from a non-profit next time?"

"No," Tucker cut in. "Stop taking food from strange websites! Jazz will have my head!"

"Spoilsport."

[in-a-bucket]

Project Eden's Garden CH 1 thoughts

hey so this probably isn't gonna be coherent at all cause i just finished the chapter and it took my like 12 hours to finish it so i have not slept but i just need to get my thoughts out lol

uh anyway major spoilers for the whole chapter you have been warned

so for the chapter as a whole i had a great time playing it! you can really see all the love and care put into this project. that being said, this chapter was CARRIED by it's deadly life/trial section, at least in my opinion. the daily life wasn't like terrible by any means it just didn't feel like a whole lot happened? the days felt really short, like the day you explore the new area is literally, wake up, meet in the dining hall briefly, explore the new area, and then go to bed. i was like ????? how is the day already done what. and then when the motive was introduced it was a bit lackluster, the concept was really cool with the pictures and the vague messages for the blackmail, but then we barely find out what anyone's information and the few people we do find out isn't super bad (expect for wolfgang kind of, maybe?), hell damon is not once concerned about the motive and none of the other characters seem all that concerned about it either which i think kinda brings the tension and stakes down. it's pretty evident when you find out the killer's motive as nothing to do with the blackmail and they weren't even concerned over their own blackmail so they have to create an entirely separate motive with the whole traitor perk thing, and it's not like that came out of thin air cause you're told about the secret prize from the get go i just don't get why they didn't use the motive they already made instead of revealing it all at the end of the trial from tozu.

ok whoops getting kind of off topic there but yeah daily life, it just felt like there could have been more, maybe it just has to do with the kind of guy damon is, but it kind of felt like we were dragging our feet from time to time idk maybe im just insane.

as for deadly life, holy shit they made some ballsy decisions here. can't really say whether they were good ones yet or not since we still have 5(?) more chapters but i have to respect the devs for who the first victim and killer ended up being (i'll get to them later). i remember thinking (man this is a pretty long investigation lol), although it probably didn't help that it took me forever to find the blood in the hallway i was genuinely so confused as to what i was missing I went back into all of the storage closets and like triple checked i had exgauhsted all dialogue, and then i was trying the move my mouse all over the place to see if there was anything else to search and then i finally found it.

the trial was so fucking fun, as devastated as i was due to who the victim was it was a ton of fun figuring out the crime and i genuinelly thought it was gonna be diana and i was gonna be done with the trial in about 2 hours and only to hit and intermission and realize i hadn't used like half my evidence yet. the mechanism of the crime was really cool too and i had a lot of fun solving it, even if i did start to lose the plot when it came to the stuff of the cord and the vent but that might've just been me being tired. I will say i did not enjoy the bullet hell argument whatever it's called at the very end, the artwork was really cool but it took me FOREVER to beat it, and myabe that's just cause i'm bad at video games but ti was so frustrating getting to stage 3 multiple times then loosing all of my health and having the start all over again. i think it would have been better if you run of of health you have to start from the beginning of whatever stage you died on but hey maybe i just suck at the game idk.

okay now on to some more character specific stuff, first of all WOLFGANG AKIRE YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU GAHHHH

ugh i'll admit it, i'm actually devastated he died first like seriously thank god the trial was as good as it was cause i might have stopped playing if it wasn't lol. in all seriousness though i was so excited for how he'd handle someone killing and all of the reprecussions with that only for him to die first lol. i really hope that this isn't the last we get to hear about him though, like i hope he's not just like a passing thought in ch 2 and then never mentioned again kind of a thing like hopefully he'll be plot relevant in the future or something idk i just want more wolfgang he's my fav BRING HIM BACKKKK. maybe we'll get to learn more about him through grace cause i'm now like 99% sure they knew each other before this whole mess lmao i mean come on grace wanted to be roomies with him and she was so fucking devastated by him dying and didn't want people poking around his room like come on.

and just everything you find out about his situation in the trial is just devastating oh my godddd. i was really worried they were gonna pull the whole "omg guys wolfgang was killed in self-defense and he was actually terrible this whole time and you all should have believed me(damon) cause i was right all along memememememe" and they didn't thank god. just that whole scene where diana reveals their confrontation was just so good like that is one of my top fangan scenes of all time now. just all the stuff he was saying revealing stuff about his character that might NEVER BE ELABORATED ON CAUSE HES FUCKING DEAD NOW WTFFFF WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS. and the voice acting was fucking incredible holy shit NAD THE FUCKING SPRITE WORK OH MY GOD THAT SHIT WAS AMAZING. the sprites for wolfgang and eva (i'll get to her later) were so fucking good i mean just look at this shit

LIKE THIS IS DEVESTATING TO ME LIKE HOLY FUCK BRO I NEED TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON IN UR HEAD AND NOW I NEVER WILL CAUSE UR DEAD UGHHHHHH

it's really funny cause i actually ended up doing all of his FTEs not knowing he was gonna die

now let's talk about eva cause holy fuck girl. i remember after the prologue she was one of my least favorite characters, cause it felt like her whole personality was "ooooo look at how mysterious and cool I am ooooooooo", but then you get the reveal that she lied about being the ultimate liar and you get her normal talent and she actually shows an actual personality and is a video game nerd i was like "omg yes i'm loving the p:eg team's take on this!" and she was moving up my character tier list ranking very quickly, and then she was revealed as the killer and she tried to pin everything on damon and then her reasons for killing wolfgang in the first place and she went right back down to the bottom LMAO. not because i thought she had bad writing or something but at the end of the day her motivations for taking the perk were pretty selfish and while i agree that wolfgang shouldn't have been trying to isolate her like that she kind of put a target on herself for no reason by lying about her talent like girl what did you think was going to happen lol. also her execution was fucking brutal, it looked incredible but damn was it brutal, she didn't need to go out like that omg.

as for some other characters, always gonna love my girls grace and cassidy they were a delight as always and i look forward to seeing more of them, diana went up on my tier list and i'm looking forward to seeing where her character goes from here, i'm also really loving jean a lot but he feels a little too helpful so i fear he might die next chapter lol.

i feel like there's more i have to say but im so tried lol so yeah have whatever this is lol. overall i had a great time playing and everyone did an amazing job working on it (even if i am really upset you killed my fav), i look forward to whatever the next chapter brings!

[thefandomsfervent]

Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 15) - Rich Gold

This is a jayvik x reader fic now but it'll still be labeled as a Vik Fic until it's fully implemented. Ft. a visit from Mel! Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom.

Planning on writing as much as I can this weekend to post in bulk before Christmas week, I'll be traveling a distance away and can't bring my laptop with me.

stay tuned and Thank you for reading <3

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The two men had been working over there for the last hour. The last thirty minutes of which they had spent muttering too quietly to discern. When you cast a look their way, curious about the whispering, you are presented with something very interesting. Jayce was standing by Viktor’s chair, his hand tracing a pattern you couldn’t make out on the lithe man’s back. That usually would not be cause for concern, it wasn’t something you had really seen before but nothing that risqué. The fact that Jayce was bent down by Viktor’s face whispering something that made his pale skin glow red? That was new. And intimate. And something you probably shouldn’t be seeing. 

It stirs a warmth deep in your stomach that you furiously try to tamp down. Whatever was happening over there was not your concern. The sketch you were working on was. When you had shown Viktor and Jayce your sketchbook they both lingered at the same spot. Answer enough. You had several iterations of it sketched out, that should have been a sign. You’ve had this happen before though. Where your subconscious had fully decided on something, and pushed it to you again and again, and it took something else to make you realize that you already knew what you wanted. So you tear your gaze away from whatever flirtations the two were engaging in to go back to your sketch. 

General composition confirmed. Now you need to decide on little details. Foxgloves for ambition. Or Hollyhock? The former also could represent ambition for another person, not just your own glory. Fitting for their commitment to each other and their Hextech dream. Golden Rod for encouragement and Grapes for charity. King Cup for yellow to go with the Golden Rod, and to represent their wish for it to prosper. Purple or yellow for the Carnations to show pride? So many options. The petals of all of these flowers and more were sketched out in front of you. Changing their colors, layering, placement. Part of your panic in selecting a final composition earlier was knowing that Mel would be visiting today. 

She had come in a few days ago looking for Jayce. Something about their next council meeting, What to and not to say. Who to kiss up to. Who to placate. Versing him, and Viktor by association, on the proper etiquette. Viktor had told you once that Jayce already knew everything he really needed to know from his patrons the Kirramans. Yet he listened to her with rapt attention. When she was done with them she floated by your station, ever graceful steps on the tile. Her jewelry clinked softly with each movement, like a quiet chorus of bells and crystals. Something about her presence was anxiety inducing and enchanting all at the same time. She thrummed with something otherworldly. 

Mel had set a date and time for her to visit with you, something that you considered a luxury. A councilor taking interest in your art was one thing. The idea had crossed your mind when you had applied for this project, part of why you had considered it in the first place. Not to climb any ladders, but to make sure you could stay here in Piltover. Now you were teetering on an edge of potential friendship or securing stability. You felt that you were not one whose words were graceful enough to secure, well, anything. Felt that your skills laid in your hands. Hands that you were doing your best to keep moving despite the appointment you had set grew closer and closer to the present. 

You were finally hitting a groove when there was a familiar sound pulling you away from the sketchpad. A scraping sound. The lab door is opening and Mel’s gentle footsteps clack against the tile floor. Smooth and swift movements to cross over the lab. She held a box in one hand. This time she didn’t immediately stop at Jayce’s or Viktor’s station. Direct line of motion to you. You stand and brush your hands against your slacks. When you glance in the men’s direction, they had separated and turned to the both of you. You realized that you did not know if Mel was aware of how deep their partnership ran. A blush on both their faces. It was cute and you try not to smile at the sight. You instead shift your gaze to Mel and offer her your smile instead.

“Forgive the intrusion,” her voice like honey, “are you ready?” 

“Yes! Just a moment.” You’re grabbing a pouch and sketchbook. Today was going to be more of a walk-and-talk situation, you doubted you’d have the time to really draw anything. Still, you wanted to be prepared. As you’re gathering your supplies you hear Mel talking with Viktor and Jayce. 

“Councilor Hoskel sends his regards.” You turn to see Jayce opening the box, the largest bottle of wine you had ever seen and two glasses inside. Piltover’s iconic gold filigree crawling up the bases, stems, and swirling around the bottom of the bowls. Expensive. 

“Whatever for?” Viktor’s holding one of the glasses now, turning it in the light of the lab. Watching as it glitters, it seems that there may be small jewels set into the whorls and swirls. Very expensive. 

“Truth be told, it’s a set he gave me. I thought that it would be better enjoyed here. I know that these meetings are growing repetitive. Consider it an incentive to continue your hard work.” Usually Viktor would scoff and mutter some reply about how they did not need incentives, but he’s eyeing the bottle of wine. It’s Jayce who stutters out their thanks and puts the box on the table behind him. 

Mel just nods, pristine and simple before turning to you. “Shall we?” You give Viktor and Jayce a nod of your own and trail behind her when she starts walking towards the door. The two of you make your way to the hallway. 

“Thank you for making time for this Counc-,” Her head tilts with her raised brow. “Mel.”

“Despite the finery and brilliance here in Piltover it is hard to find minds worth talking to.” Your cheeks heat. That was a compliment right? “If those two let you stay with them, then you must be intriguing.”

“I’m just painting.” It’s hard to keep the doubt out of your voice. Doubt that she thinks you are worth spending her little free time with. Doubt that Jayce and Viktor find you intriguing.

“You have grown close with them. I'm glad. The two are so busy I worry that they forgot how to make friends.” When she notices you falling behind she slows her pace. Having you at her side like you were equals. 

“You're a friend too aren't you?” A genuine question. Jayce had a crush yes, but her frequent visits didn’t imply to you that she returned the sentiment. Her energy was so kind, warm like the sun. It was hard for you to believe that she didn’t want companionship. 

“Mmm. Perhaps. I'm not sure both of them would agree with that." You both give faint laughs at that. She continues. “I would like to be a friend to you though. We will need to find time to paint together soon.” The statement settles around your shoulders, the air around your ears buzzing.

“Yes, I’d like that too.” This time it’s your chest heating, swelling at the thought of being friends with Mel Medarda. “Those two could probably use a solo lab day.”

 “You know with your skills, you could help promote them.” Your steps falter for a moment.

“What do you mean?” Promote them how? Why? Questions she is reading on your face.

“Job security after your painting is done. They'll need someone who can help them advertise, especially once Hextech goes public.” She says it like it’s the only logical conclusion. Finality in her belief alone.

You hadn't thought about that. Well, you had. When you first met them you had brought it up as an idea for someone else to do. Not yourself, you hadn’t assumed it would be you.  And the look on her face tells you she knew that. Like she knows everything. Not in a patronizing way, but in a calming one.

“I’m not sure how they’d feel about that.” They both didn't like the amount of schmoozing they were having to do now. If you helped with anything it could be selecting designs but you weren’t a designer or typographer. And if the other advertisements you’d seen plastered around Piltover spoke for what she would want you to make, it would be their faces. Having their faces plastered around everything is not something you thought they'd like either. This city is all about claiming credit for things that went well and sweeping things under the rug if they didn’t. 

“They are fond of you. I’m sure they would agree to it.” You give a friendly scoff at that word. Fond of you? The word makes your heart warm more than it has already. And your face. The upturn of Mel’s lips doesn’t help either. Nor does the hand she places on your shoulder. “Consider it for a friend?” 

You’re looking at her hand, her arm. Eyes meeting hers. Such genuine eyes. Green and glittering with the gold in her hair, on the freckles speckling her face. You raise a hand slowly to place on hers. “For a friend.”  

“Good!” She pulls her hand away and motions for you to walk with her. “Enough talk of those boys.” You join her side again as you travel around the halls of the Academy. You talk about art, about the pleasant memories you had of Zaun and she lets very little slip of her childhood in Noxus. She shares artists you recognize the names of, some you don’t. You shared that you make your own paint as a hobby. Leading the two of you to the topic of what paints you each preferred. It was nice. Talking to someone about things you truly did understand. Viktor and Jayce would explain their work to you, and you would listen. But finally talking to someone that was just as knowledgeable about art as you were was a breath of fresh air. You were explaining the process of tempera paints, and why you liked making them, not using them when someone calls for Mel. 

A woman holding folders approaches, giving you a onceover before closing the distance. 

“Elora. Is it that time already?” 

“Yes, it seems that-”, she pauses before looking at you again. When Mel nods she resumes. “That there’s been a development on those trade routes we discussed earlier.” 

“Hmm, it’s always something isn’t it.” She turns to you. “Thank you for our time today, a nice escape.” Mel places her hand on your shoulder again. “I do hope you’ll keep our talk in mind.” 

“Ofcourse.” With that she leaves, Elora following behind her. When they round a corner you can hear their voices talking in a hushed tone. Imports and merchants being discussed as their voices and footsteps trail away. You’re left standing in the hallway. Realizing that with the couple hours that have passed you and Mel had traversed to a part of the Academy you were not familiar with. 

A groan leaves you as you turn to where you had come from. So if you had taken a right here, then you should see a vase on your left… 

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------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[stoned-frog]

⚠️toxic/abusive relationship⚠️(killermare)

@beforetheendowo this got really long so I'm making it its own post

answering this

I absolutely agree with the pushing boundaries part, Target would do or say things that obviously make Nightmare upset, he would openly show that he knows stuff about Nightmare he probably shouldn't, showing that Night wasn't careful enough in maintaining his perfect image and he would never admit to it but it makes Nightmare very unsettled and sometimes even scared.

Target would also sneak in on Nightmare to just watch him sometimes. He isn't that interested in him but it makes Nightmare tense up and Target can see behaviours he's never seen before, he can see that this perfect powerful being can be bothered by a pathetic mortal like him. That way he can get to know Nightmare better and use it to his advantage but also it makes Nightmare more prone to lash out, he can never take a break because at the back of his head there's always this irrational fear that Target might be watching him.

Basically Target pushes bounderies, gives him the silent treatment and annoys Nightmare because it amuses him to see his god vulnerable and that makes Nightmare more stressed leading to more abuse

Adding to all that I also think about Target being toxic because he worships Nightmare in a way, he believes that he is a god, a being far higher than him therefore Nightmare's actions are what he deserves. He knows he is used and abused, objectified and molded like "his new owner" wants it, but he just submits to it. He was already used by his AU's anomaly (Chara or whatever, I don't like that aspect of Something New, that it's just Chara) and when he thought he was free they got replaced by another abuser. He might think this is just his fate? But yea back to my idea-

Nightmare can never change or even reflect on his actions because Target doesn't resist, he follows orders, bows to him, never responds violently to him. It only takes one word for Target to throw away whatever he was doing and come to him like a dog.

I'm talking mostly about Target lol but that's cuz Nightmare is just so obviously abusive both verbally and physically, gaslighting and making others think they need him it doesn't need as much attention? But I will say what I think anyway

Aside from all you said, I also imagine Nightmare would use him as a kind of stress toy, when he needs to blow of some steam, or Target just says one word too much he might get thrown across the room or pinned to the nearest wall by his neck and yelled at. Some time ago I drew some things that might illustrate what I mean

Here and here

Also this is just for my headcanons but Target introduced himself just like that to both Dust and Horror and that's what they call him (in all versions I made for the gang) but in this one only Nightmare refers to him as "Killer" and of course, Target never corrects him. When Dust or Horror call him that either by accident or to tease him he always corrects them and it sometimes even turns into an argument but with Nightmare, nothing. Not a word.

[niechys]

I got this little part I don't know where to put. Will probably stick it in with the bad ending later. For now I'll just stick it here.

Just Onslaught trying to take care of tings.

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

It was late. A medical personel would either be the ward checking patients, or returning to their own place. Pharma was heading to none of those places.

He was about to turn a corner when he felt it. The prickling sense of being watch. He wasn't alone. Pharma held his breath, trying to listen for footsteps or any sound not coming from himself.

"Well...well.. What's a doctor doing here at this hour?" Cold metal pressing at Pharma's back, Onslaught step up behind him.

"Commander? I should ask you that" Pharma put his hand up not trying to look back.

"Nothing much. Just looking out for my pilot"

"I don't..."

"Don't worry, doctor. I won't hurt you, just continue on wherever you were going" Onslaught said, slowly withdraw the gun from the other man's back, but keep it trained on him.

Pharma steady his breath, then started walking. They walked in silenced, Onslaught falling behind a little but still at arm's reach. Entering the research facility, most labs were dark, automatic light came on in the hall way and went off as they pass. Finally, they reached the inner lab, Pharma punched in the code and they entered.

There were only one still working. His singular yellow lens on metal mask blinked as he looked up, passing Pharma to the man behind him.

"Shockwave" Onslaught addressed him first. The gun still trained on Pharma even as the medic moved away from him.

"Commander Onslaught" Shockwave gave a small nod and got up from his chair. "What brings you here?"

"There are some rumors I heard that I might have to take care of. Does Felix rings a bell?"

"Felix? Oh, you mean First Aid, Vortex's latest pilot. An interesting kid, mostly since he survived this long"

"Exactly. I need you to be less interested in him" Onslaught pointed his gun toward Shockwave, aiming right at the yellow glowing lens.

"Are you looking out for your pilot, or the higher up sent you?"

"The higher ups don't care and frankly, I couldn't careless of what they think or what you do to unfortunate new recruits. But that boy is piloting our best asset. I rather not lose him outside of the battlefield."

"I make no promise. But I have no interest in harming him" Shockwave answered, already going back to looking the the screen in front of him.

"Well, best to keep you claw off him, do I make myself clear?"

Shockwave made a noise and nod in acknowledgment, but didn't say anything further.

Onslaught knew Shockwave was not to be trusted. Letting him know that Vortex wanted First Aid alive might be a problem, so he kept that part to himself.

First Aid's value as a pilot far exceed any research Shockwave might have going. That much was true regardless of Vortex's own interest. If whatever Shockwave was doing cause harm to Felix he might as well put a stop to it before worse shit happen.

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

Obviously didn't help much- But sometimes the adult got to do stuff too (I just wanna see him pull out a gun is all)

[officerwhitmore]

Standing near the front door, duffle clenched in one fist, Vincent studied Tony’s expression with wide, pleading eyes for an answer to his request only to find nothing. Nothing good, anyway. No confirmation that he’d help Vince cover his tracks, no indication that the request had offended him. Only subtle things, dangerous things, like sadness and softness and empathy. That was the confusing one — the empathy. Empathy for a man so broken he could barely function, so selfish he would willingly destroy his marriage for a fuck, so starved for affection/understanding(/love?) that he dissolved into tears at any display of tenderness.

But somehow, still, with the proverbial clock ticking, Vincent had to remind himself that only minutes ago, he’d found Tony’s thoughtfulness admirable even in spite of the time he took to think before he spoke. Now, far removed from the warmth of Tony’s body and the tender touch of his lips, it only made him feel impatient, his heart thudding and his mind burning with the knowledge that every moment spent in this apartment would make his fabricated alibi less believable. A not insignificant part of him felt the impulse to pressure Tony for an answer, but the softness in the man’s dark eyes made him incapable.

Not for the first time, Vincent was reminded of just how little he deserved him. By all means, Tony had every right to tell him to fuck himself and lose his number, especially given the painful ache from the interrupted blowjob—something the stiff outline in his slacks made clear. He’d invited him over for a hookup, and all Vince did was eat his food, melt down a few times, and get off twice before slobbering on his cock and leaving him blueballed with a shitty piece of origami and some dishes to clean. But somehow, somehow, Vincent was pathetic enough to cling on to any semblance of hope that he could make it out of this apartment with a believable excuse that would allow him to be alive to beg Tony for one more taste of… whatever the fuck this visit had become. Because really, if Vincent cut the bullshit and stopped denying the truth, this hadn’t been a hookup since the moment Tony watched him dance and took his hand and kissed him in a way that defied comparison. It was Tony, and Vincent knew down to the marrow of his bones that he’d never be kissed that way by anyone else.

He wanted to see this man again — even if he didn’t deserve it. So he asked, softly, gently, a hair’s breadth away from begging, “Tony… please.”

Tony didn’t say a word, but he did reach out a hand and slip something into his shirt pocket so swiftly that when Vince glanced down, he didn’t catch sight of it. It was only by scent alone that he deduced what it was. Spearmint gum. A sad smile curled up the corners of his lips as he took the gum out of his pocket and looked it over, spying an expiration date that was a year overdue, though that wasn’t the reason he’d have to decline it. It wasn’t a brand he chewed, and if Stella found it, it would just be one more thing he’d have to explain. It’d be an easy excuse — Angie gave it to him or something — but with all the lies he already had to balance, it was a burden he could do without. Most importantly, he had gum in his car and more than enough money in his wallet if he wanted to buy more of it. For Tony, this gum was probably a luxury even if it was half empty; even if it was expired. He almost wanted to make a joke about bad breath to stave off the flood of warmth that bled through his chest, but he didn't. Tony deserved better than deflections.

Vincent met his eyes instead, giving him a watery smile that he instantly knew was too fond, too sweet. “You’re so sweet, it’s almost sickening, you know that? I can’t take this, Tony,” he said, sounding like he was politely declining a brand-new car instead of a half-empty pack of expired gum. It didn’t matter, ultimately. As heartwarmed as Vincent was by the gesture, there was hardly any difference. Vincent tucked the pack of gum into the waistband of Tony’s slacks and lingered there for a moment, fingertips tucked beneath the dark fabric as he soaked up the warmth of Tony’s skin. Judging by the firm outline in the man’s slacks, the tip of Tony’s cock was less than an inch away from his fingertips, still hard and hot and neglected. It took everything in Vince not to slip his fingers in deeper and brush against it, just a touch, just a graze, and come away wet with precum if he was lucky. His tongue still tingled with the memory of his taste, warm and salty-sweet. He needed more of that before he died. He’d lick it off of his own fingers if he had to.

When Vincent looked up, Tony stepped in so close that he could smell the hint of sweat on his skin and the vague scent of his shampoo. The heat of Tony’s skin consumed Vince’s mind in one measure, and his fingertips slid further down without his permission, tightening around Tony’s waistband as the tip of his cock pressed hard against his knuckles. And there it was, that sticky-slickness, that liquid heat. When Tony reached down to take the duffle bag, Vince’s fingers fell open automatically, loose and pliant, and he wasn’t surprised in the least. When it all boiled down to it, he’d do anything Tony wanted when he was this warm, this close. Once again, his height seemed to swallow Vince whole, and in spite of the uniform he wore, Officer Whitmore was nowhere to be found. Right now, he was whatever Tony wanted him to be.

Tony nudged his collar to the side, and Vincent bared his neck and held his breath, listening to the man’s warm breaths as he eyed the mark he’d made when he backed him up against the wall and ravished him. Despite their closeness, despite Vince’s fingers clenching the waistband of his pants, when Tony places his other hand on Vince’s shoulder and leans in close, it all strikes Vincent as strange compared to the way they’d melted against each other earlier, sharing desperate, sloppy kisses and clutching at each other’s bodies like they’d die without the contact. Now? This was business, a favor — almost transactional, if not for the fact that Vince had nothing to give him in return. It was cold. Impersonal.

But the moment Tony’s lips met his neck, hot and wet and ticklish, Vincent pulled in a sharp gasp and closed his eyes, stiffening up like a frightened animal because all of the desire he’d lost when Stella called came flooding back into his body in an instant. Tony’s body was stiff, though, even as his teeth scraped and bit at Vincent’s skin, lips sucking, tongue soothing, teeth nipping again. Vincent did his best to appear unfazed, but nearly failed when the hand on his shoulder tightened into a squeeze and the fingers on his collar smoothed down to rest on his waist, leaving a burning path down every inch they’d touched. Vincent didn’t give in, didn’t moan or gasp or pull him in by the waistband. But he did shudder, a full-body tingle racing through his bones. When Tony lifted his head and took a small step backward, murmuring that the hickey ‘looked like it would work,’ Vincent’s hand slid out of his waistband and he gazed at him wordlessly, pupils wide with unspoken lust.

There was something heavy in Tony’s gaze when he met his eyes. Once again, Vincent was immediately reminded of how stupid and dangerous this had all been from the beginning, because his chest clenched tight and his stomach twisted with the fact that even with his wife in desperate need, he still wanted nothing more than to stay. And there was softness in Tony’s eyes, loneliness, regret, like he, too, knew that they’d fucked up irreparably. Vincent could read on the man’s face clear as day that he didn’t want Vincent to leave either. Back home, Stella might’ve needed him because she was grieving and terrified, but she wouldn’t have given him a second thought had the crash not happened, and she sure as shit hadn’t needed him for ages prior. But Tony? Tony wanted him. He wanted him in his apartment, wanted to hold him, wanted him to stay even if he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. Just this once, for the first time in ages, here was a man who wanted Vincent just because. Someone who didn’t need him. Someone who simply enjoyed his company. (And/or his cock, apparently, which was less important but still nice to know.)

Vincent didn’t deserve Tony. In the end, all he’d done was come into his home to use him for sex, and now he was about to leave him even more lonely than he seemed to have been before all of this. It occurred to Vincent that he’d done all of this without once considering the possibility that someone other than himself would be left hurting in the end. Someone so beautiful; so sweet and so perfect. Jesus Christ, he felt fucking terrible, and there was no fucking way Tony couldn’t see it on his face. “God, you’re gonna make me cry again,” Vincent breathed with a little laugh. He averted his eyes to the ground because they were burning and probably beading with tears and his neck was on fire and god, this was all so fucked. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he softly shook his head, eyes closed, wetting his lips with his tongue. “Tony, I want you to know I—”

But then Tony kissed him. Hands clutching his shoulders, he kissed Vince like he was his; kissed him as if pretending he owned him would somehow make it true. Opening his mouth and kissing him deeper, it almost seemed as if Tony believed it; and, according to Vince’s throbbing cock, if Tony believed it, then clearly it must’ve been true. When Tony stumbled forward and Vincent’s back hit the wall — no hand to cushion his skull this time, just hard plaster and sweat-damp hair — Vince parted his legs and moaned into his mouth as his cock was pinned hard between his hip and Tony’s thigh. Vincent sighed hard through his nose, and it was as if all his bones went with it, his body melting until Tony’s solid chest was the only thing that kept him from falling to his hands and knees. Tony could take him that way if he wanted to. Right in that moment, sliding his hands up Tony’s naked back and digging blunt nails into his skin, Vincent thought that if this man picked him up and threw him on his mattress, he could have his way and Vince would never even remember he had a—

Family. Stella was inconsolable and June was clueless and… Vince couldn’t keep doing this. He had to get out of here. He had to go home.

“Tony,” Vincent breathed. The word was nearly incomprehensible between their mouths, so Vincent tilted his chin away and tried again. “Tony. Tony, Jesus, Tony, listen, I can’t…” Vincent moved his hands to clutch at Tony’s hips and pushed him away, gently enough to be tender, firmly enough to set a boundary even he didn’t want to make. Before he even opened his eyes, he knew what he saw on Tony’s face would be painful — disappointment, regret, hurt — so he spoke without thinking, anxious to soothe Tony’s hurt, and what came out of his mouth was, “I have to go home, baby.”

Vincent opened his eyes the moment he heard himself say it, and his entire diaphragm twisted, mouth going sour, face heating up in an instant. “I mean Tony, not — fuck, I’m sorry, my head’s all confused and everything’s—” Vincent shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, hands moving in frustrated gestures as if waving them in front of his face would wipe Tony’s memory. “Look. I gotta go.” Shaking his head hard this time, as if rebooting himself, he reached behind Tony and picked up his duffle by the strap, grunting uncomfortably as his hard-on was crushed a little with the movement. Narrowly avoiding elbowing Tony in the face, he swung the duffel over his shoulder and unlatched the chain lock on the door, pointedly ignoring the instant memory of how he’d teased him over it.

When he got the door open, the room immediately flooding with cool, fresh air, Vincent paused for a moment and looked back at him with one last glittering grin that felt like an utter lie. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to leave. But he had no choice. He’d done this to himself. “I’m sorry I’ve gotta run out like this. I’d stay if I could. I mean it,” he said, and his smile crumbled a little, his eyes turning as soft as his voice. He caught himself before he could make it all worse, and this time when he smiled, it felt a little more genuine. “Save me a root beer, okay?” It wasn’t really a question, but it sounded like one. And when he stepped through the door and into the breezeway, he couldn’t muster the fake positivity it would’ve taken him to wink.

He pulled the door shut and didn’t allow his grin to vanish until he heard Tony turn the lock.

Tony damn near saw stars in his eyes as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back, holding his breath for a moment. It took everything to keep himself from coming while in Vince’s mouth; he knew he could, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but damn it he wasn’t ready for this to end yet. And, judging by how utterly into it Vince was when he opened his eyes and looked down at him again, meeting his gaze, he didn’t think Vince was ready for it to end either. The longer this lasted, the more memories he had to hold on to - because there was no telling if he’d get a second chance at this.

Being called ’goofy’ could have been taken as an insult, especially in this situation, but Tony didn’t take it that way. He breathed out a laugh that was more of a heavy huff than anything else and gave Vince a grin. He was right, but hey, the lust-filled brain didn’t always work right.

”Didn’t want you suffocating.” Tony chuckled, leaning his head against the back of the couch and raking his fingers through Vince’s hair, grip loosening a little bit more before trailing his fingers down over Vince’s cheek. He heard that shake in Vince’s voice as he begged - it brought on so many questions that he couldn’t ask right now, but he knew for sure he couldn’t (and didn’t want to) say no to him. ”Good boy.” Tony repeated again, meeting Vince’s eyes and holding that stare as he said it.

God, he was so damned close, he swore if he exhaled at the wrong (right?) time he’d come hard, but it’d be too soon. He didn’t even know where Vince wanted him to finish. Tony opened his mouth to say something, then froze at the sound of something rattling against the countertop.

He couldn’t move, eyes locked on Vince as Vince’s eyes went wide. Something wild must have happened with his blood pressure because he swore for a moment his ears were full of cotton, his legs felt weak, and the room felt spinny. Only Vince’s string of desperate, terrified, breathless ’No’ over and over reminded him to inhale and brought him back to the present. The present where he was so blueballed it was damn near painful. Vince flew away from him towards the counter so fast it was a miracle he didn’t just slam through the cabinets and wall too.

Not trusting himself to remain completely silent, Tony slapped a hand over his own mouth and leaned back, taking a few steadying breaths through his nose. His best guess was that this was going to be a ’when are you coming home from work?’ call that, worst case scenario, would dampen the mood and things wouldn’t be so damn heavy and hot when they got off, then Vince would slink back to his life and they’d never speak of it again. The fear of that impending loss tightened in Tony’s chest.

But as he listened to Vince’s end of the conversation in silence, he realized that his original worst case scenario was actually a best case scenario. This? This was the worst case scenario. It didn’t take a cop or detective to figure out someone had been hurt, listening to just this side of the conversation. The relief was that it wasn’t his daughter, and wasn’t his wife - those two things would devastate a man. But there were plenty of other losses that could do significant damage, too.

Tony knew this was over when Vince ended the call and simply stood there for a moment, trying to breathe. That was no ’I’m buried in paperwork, it’ll be awhile yet’ conversation and they both knew it. Whatever frustrated anger he felt at having his night cut short was kept in check by immediately feeling empathy for Vince. He knew right then he had zero room to complain whatsoever and was going to keep his fool mouth shut about this.

”Yeah, I understand. Okay.” Tony responded dumbly, not even sure what else to say as he stood from the couch, sliding his pants and boxers back up and on. He turned away from Vince once they were up, managing to tuck himself back into his pants and zip up. This was utterly uncomfortable and he’d have to do something about it after Vince left, but he was not about to sit here, dick out, watching Vince leave in a panic.

There wasn’t anything he could do to help, either. He caught himself watching Vince strip out of his clothes and back into his uniform, but that oddly felt invasive. He stopped himself from looking by heading for the kitchen. In lieu of knowing what else to do, he washed his hands, trying to focus on the soap bubbles instead of the feeling in his stomach. This wasn’t the version of Vince that he’d brought here tonight and offered to him. This wasn’t the joking, sexy man that got on his knees and begged to be called a good boy. This was a small town cop rushing home to his family to comfort them after something very bad had happened, complete with bringing home dinner. Not his nachos either, some fast-food picked up from somewhere no doubt. Burgers and fries or Chinese takeout or pizza or something. Something that matched the white picket fence he no doubt lived behind better than his cooking ever would.

There was probably one thing he could do to help. It was such a minor, small thing that he felt rather incompetent even making the offering, but… it was the best he could do. Tony reached down and pulled open a drawer and rummaged through it while Vince got his shoes on. It didn’t take him long to find it - half a pack of generic minty gum. It would be something to cover the taste in Vince’s mouth on the drive home. There were three sticks left, and that felt pretty par for the course of what Tony had to offer in this life now.

Tony turned and closed the distance, watching Vince carefully as he held the door frame, knuckles white around the duffle bag’s strap. It was awful to see him this hurt now, and it made his small offering seem insurmountably more pathetic now. ’Sorry for ruining your marriage and life, have some gum.’ He was so frozen by his own inability to be useful here that he was caught off-guard when Vince turned around and met his eyes.

It was a utilitarian suggestion, and a smart one. Somewhere in the back of his head, a small voice reminded him that of course a cop would be able to think quickly about how to hide or mask evidence of wrongdoing. He shouldn’t be surprised. He knew he’d caused this issue, he was the problem, so it shouldn’t be a shock that he be asked to fix it. But he was surprised anyway… because another hickey meant another kiss.

Would his wife believe it? Maybe she would, while clouded by her emotions right now. Would either of them enjoy it? No, probably not. The mood had been ruined, Vince looked on the edge of tears, and he himself felt infinitesimally small and inept. He looked Vince over, a few breaths of silence for the man to come to his senses, take back the request, and run out. When Vince didn’t, Tony reached forward and slid the half-pack of gum into Vince’s shirt pocket, and stepped closer. Reaching down, Tony gently peeled Vince’s fingers off the strap of the duffle bag until he could hold it instead, and sat it down next to them.

A mental image of one of the last smutty vampire books he read barged itself into his brain as he nudged Vince’s collar out of the way and eyed his neck where he’d gestured, nodding his approval. He wasn’t eyeing for blood, though, but bruises, and looking to add to the mark. Not knowing where else to put his other hand, he rested it atop Vince’s shoulder and leaned in, putting his lips to Vince’s neck.

He’d never really thought about it before, but giving someone a hickey on purpose is a lot different than doing it accidentally. He almost felt stupid, standing here stiffly trying and hoping this would work. Maybe it would be easier to just punch the guy - not that he wanted to risk it. Punching an actual police officer would get the FBI on his ass so fast he might still be blueballed by the time the cell door slammed shut behind him.

After what seemed like an appropriate amount of time, Tony paused and leaned away, looking at his work. He hadn’t realized it, but at some point he’d let go of Vince’s collar and slid that hand down to his waist, other hand still on Vince’s shoulder but squeezing him now. The new hickey was almost as bright and obvious as the existing one. Just eyeballing it, it did look approximately the width of a seat belt strap, give or take.

”Okay. That looks like it’ll work.” Tony offered quietly, as if they were discussing tightening pipes or installing a new ceiling fan and not covering up an extramarital affair. Tony licked his lips, taking a small step backwards.

That small space between them felt too expansive. It was one step, but it felt like he stepped backwards and fell off a cliff that neither could ever climb. The gulf of circumstances between them was nothing but dark choppy waters full of sharks and storms. It made Tony’s heart hurt in a way he wanted to ignore. This was supposed to be a hookup, nothing more. A hookup between two people who had specific needs not being met elsewhere and they were just two adults scratching an itch. Nothing complicated. But he was a Goddamn idiot and his heart and mind were conspiring to make this complicated and fuck both those pieces of himself for ever doing this to him.

He knew then that if he let go of Vince, it was done for good, and part of him just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t handle the thought of Vince walking out that door and never seeing him again.

Tony had almost let go completely when he grabbed Vince by the shoulders and pulled him back in for a kiss. It was a bit rough and possessive, and he wound up taking one stumbling step forward that pressed Vince against the wall next to the door.

He just needed one more. A parting gift to think of. It didn’t matter if Vince's lips tasted like his cock yet, if they both smelled like sweat and lust. He just needed one more kiss and a reason to not let go quite yet so he could put off hating himself for just a little while longer.

[dorizardthewizard]

High School Musical (2006) rewatch

*sigh* so... some time ago my friends and I rewatched this movie and I don't know whether it's the nostalgia or my usual love for cheesy low budget movies but I haven't been able to get this trilogy out of my head. So of course I ended up writing like 8k words of ramblings about each movie with nowhere to share them but the Random Hyperfixations Website, in the hopes that maybe one (1) person would find them mildly interesting. If not, future me could get a laugh or two!

I will also be tier ranking the songs as I go because why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Part 1: The Start of Something New

Aaahhh nostalgia 😭 and I only remember watching this one like once or twice as a kid lmao, it just feels so quintessentially 2000’s

Are the ski lifts working at this hour? Guess it must be a special New Years thing, sounds fun skiing at midnight but you know no one there is sober, New Year or not :P Après ski started hours ago!

Mrs. Montez: Gabby, it's New Year's Eve. Enough reading. Gabriella: But mom, I'm almost done!

I was literally like Gabriella at parties – ok granted I was like 12, but whenever we’d go to gatherings with family friends I’d either bring a book or this tiny notepad and pencil I’d fold up in my pocket so I could doodle whenever I got bored or socially awkward. People would compliment my drawings and make requests so I guess it worked out?

Also the mums' fits aren't great, looks like they’re wearing theatre costumes.

YOU TAKE IT DOWNTOWN! 🔥🔥🏀🔥🔥🔥🏀🏀

Mrs Bolton: Did we really fly all this way to play more basketball? Troy and Mr Bolton: ...........yeah?

I relate to this because my mum would also have to tear my dad and brother away from the beach volleyball courts when we go on holiday. I mean I play too during the year but I prefer to laze around or swim when we’re at the beach

“I don’t sing, I can't sing!” 10 seconds later….

"Some day you guys might thank me for this" This karaoke guy is hilarious, I choose to believe he is a fourth wall breaking omniscient being. It would be hilarious if somehow, Troy and Gabriella ran into him some day before getting married

Why are there screens showing the party in the back lol

Aaaaand the opening song! The one that started it all!!!!!

I love how no one cares about them doing the karaoke at first

So for Start of Something New I’d put it in A tier, it’s catchy and cute, and idk the instrumentation just sounds pretty 2000’s like it reminds me of the OG Winx Club score? I like how, despite the song literally just being them standing there on the platform, they make it interesting by having this progression through the song where at first they’re just giving each other shy glances, Troy is ready to leave after a couple of lines because he assumes Gabriella doesn’t want to do it, but then she actually joins in. Eventually when the music picks up, they start interacting with each other properly and Troy takes his jacket off, with Gabriella now grabbing the mic instead of standing hunched over. And once they’re into it, they have great chemistry! You love to see them open up and have fun.

Also Gabriella looks so pretty in that outfit and so cute when she’s nervous!

The way the karaoke guy stands up like he was right all along hahahaha. Cupid’s arrow has been shot.

Gabriella: I guess I better find my mom and wish her a happy new year Troy: Yeah, me too. I mean, not your mom. My mom. And dad...

Waaahhhh they’re so cute and Troy’s such a dork. Gabriella must have been so surprised to hear he’s the school’s number 1 jock boy LOL

Flip phones! I kept mine until 2015 but everyone thought it was so cool because it was a pink square shaped Alcatel with a full keypad B)

I feel like we don’t talk enough about the fact that Troy and Gabriella go skiing. Like is that unusual for a brainiac in this universe? Especially if she snowboards? Just imagine Gabriella tearing down the slopes and doing tricks :’P

[jrueships]

im going into my new work tomorrow, first time ever😐

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[flower-boi16]

So I never once thought I would ever make a post defending Helluva Boss of all things but this post struck a certain chord within me and I feel the need to respond to it. It is legitimately sad to me how the fandom will bend over backwards to defend Stolas’ actions and demonize his victims even when the SHOW FRAMING DISAGREES WITH THAT EXACT FRAMING.

So let’s actually run down the context here and explain why Octavia’s reaction in this scene is perfectly understandable and valid, shall we?

So think of this; young girl living in a home with a close relationship to her father. The father is always there to comfort the young girl and even sang a song when she was little as a lullaby to help her sleep due to having nightmares of her father not being there for her, telling her that no matter what, he’ll never leave and she will always be okay.

Cut to many years later, and, suddenly, things change. The father that the young girl held close to…suddenly cheats on his wife and starts obsessing over a random imp over her, even to the point of making sexual remarks about him around her even when she’s uncomfortable. Everything was turned upside down for her, the parents who previously loved each other now loathe on another, and now the father who held his daughter dear starts neglecting her in favor of this random imp.

Which leads the daughter to grow a fear that her father will leave her in favor of that imp, a perfectly understandable one given that it was established before that she has fears of abandonment. THEN when that father takes the daughter to a carnival that she hated when she was a child, he spends most of the day flirting with that imp on the trip that was SUPPOSED TO CHEER HER UP. The daughter gets fed up with this and runs off where the father follows suit. The daughter expresses her fears of abandonment to her father and asks him if he is really going to leave her in favor of that imp. The father says no, realizing his mistake and assures her that he’ll never leave her and decides to take her to a place she actually enjoys as a way to make up for that…

…and then cut to 17 episodes later where the daughter then witnesses her father THROWING HIS LIFE AWAY ON LIVE TELEVISION FOR AN IMP. He told her that he would never leave her, that he wouldn’t chose that imp over her…and he does that with no hesitation. Without even telling her. Octavia doesn’t know shit about whatever close relationship Blitz and Stolas have, to her, Blitz is just some random nobody imp that Stolas is for some reason horny over.

And this effectively cements to Octavia that, she doesn’t matter to her father. He really would choose an imp over her. Sinmass further drives this home with a heart breaking song Octavia sings that offers as a dark reprise of you will be okay, as Octavia sings about her resentment and heart break over her father betraying her trust, for LYING to her. She says she’ll never be the same now and fully accepts the fact that Stolas cares more about Blitz than her. And she then finds out that Stolas was taking anti-depressant pills, making her believe that she was just nothing but a burden, an obligation to Stolas this whole time.

If she wasn’t, why would he leave her without hesitation?

Is Stolas allowed to form other relationships outside of Octavia? Yea, he is, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that Stolas was placing those new relationships above his old ones, he chose Blitz over Octavia, his daughter, his FAMILY.

”probably called her a million times” actually we saw him call once and Octavia was happy to answer until Stella wouldn’t let her, taking Octavia’s phone and mocking Stolas for trying to call her. Octavia doesn’t see the whole picture because SHE DOESNT HAVE THE WHOLE PICTURE! Stolas never communicated ANYTHING to her, not about what was going on between him and Stella, and not about his relationship with Blitz. Stolas didn’t give Octavia ANY information about what was going on and guess what? Seeing Stars and Sinmass show the exact consequences of that.

In Seeing Stars Octavia runs away to try and see the stars for herself because Stolas was focusing more on arguing with Stella than her, which leads Octavia to thinking that Stolas hates Stella more than he loves her, and she wouldn’t have started believing that IF STOLAS COMMUNICATED AND TOLD HER ABOUT THE ABUSE HE O DURING OF THEIR MARRIAGE. Therefore she would be more understanding.

And in Sinmas, If Stolas ever explained to Octavia at any point in the show the full context of his relationship with Blitz, that would, at the very least, make Octavia understand his decision. Yet he never did. Octavia doesn’t have the full context for ANY of these situations because Stolas for SOME REASON never communicated to her.

And fuck off with the whole “oh look that’s typical teenager behavior!!” Bullshit right there. Ah yes Octavia is just acting like a bratty teenager for…*checks notes* wanting her dad to pay more attention to her. Cool.

Sinsmas is legitimately one of the best episodes of season 2 because it actually addresses Stolas acts as a father and calls him out for it, creating drama that doesn’t feel artificial for once and ends up being a step in the right direction for both Stolas AND Octavia as characters. But it’s sad to me that some people still miss blatantly obvious details like this.

Octavia is not a bratty teenager having a tantrum, she’s a girl that had her life turned upside down and is suffering through a divorce. I wish most of the fandom would actually see that.

Well honestly while I’m really sorry for Octavia and her feelings, she really needs to mature.

Unpopular opinion?

Parents also deserve a right to be happy and build their relationships. Stolas never neglected her and always was the loving and caring parent compared to Stella who only thinks of Via as of a tool for fulfilling her duty to the Goetia family. Stolas never hides his feelings and always makes Via sure that she’s valuable to him no matter what. But has Via ever thought about his happiness? She’s not a little girl anymore and gonna be an adult soon, so she needs to realize that there are other people around her who also deserve to be happy. Stolas was abused in his marriage with Stella, deeply depressed and taking antidepressants yet when he found someone who meant to him as much Via did he…what? Was supposed to let it go all of sudden? It’s not like I defend Stolitz romantic relationship over a parent/daughter relationship, but that would’ve never worked out irl.

Via baby, guess what? A parent can never stay around their child for all eternity, at some point of life you gotta separate. Once again that’s not about burning bridges with your family, you CAN still be a family and have your own business. Stolas probably called her around a million times in that ep and she knew that. She knew that he cared. Did she try to meet him? No. As we saw, nobody stopped her yet she only came when she decided to burn the said bridges. She simply refuses to see the whole picture and understand that sometimes there are CIRCUMSTANCES and REASONS for actions adults make. All she sees is Stolas somehow leaving her behind.

That’s a peak teenage behavior to me. And the saddest thing is that Stolas could never see such a point of view because a child is the most precious thing to a parent no matter what. He will slowly drown in his sorrow thinking that it’s his fault because he decided to have something for himself just for once in his life.

[danielnelsen]

peach (my cat) is having a full-day vet appointment to scan and possibly remove some teeth (the perks of only being allowed wet food)

completely unrelated, but anything regarding peach’s health or her being somewhere else or anything even mildly off with her routine or behaviour is probably by biggest anxiety and panic trigger

[jichanxo]

made a tierlist of my kuwagami fics for funsies (+ notes for a few) ↓

(everything listed in the same tier are equals, so the order they're listed in has no meaning)