colinfwatson

[terrence-silver]

Would Terry accommodate a beloved curious about age regressing? Not even in a sexual way, just wanting to do childish things/act whatever age. I think Terry would be pleased to be able to see beloved that vulnerable and would be more than happy to play his part.

---

I mean, when you really think about it, Terry Silver 'doesn't act his age' either.

And it ain't no play whatsoever.

😬

I mean, he acts more like a teenager than a grown man in the classical sense, really. Causing a ruckus at a nightclub filled with adolescents, dashing and jumping off railings when trouble comes, being as happy as a mischievous kid that he got away with it and showing his delight by openly cheering someone's nose got busted up, keeping the company, of truly, likeminded (hooligan?) youths in the form of Snake, Dennis and Mike Barnes, being as vengeful as only an impulsive, cruel child can be. They beat you at a sport, John!? Well, I'll hurt them for that! Because that's what besties forever do! We have friendship bracelets matching tattoos, after all! Treating the elderly Margaret more like an aged, ever so patient aunt who occasionally well meaningly chastises his shenanigans mid-work because --- sigh --- an adult has to once in a while. He's like a child who fell into the suit of a Billionaire with all the resources of a Billionaire, which is an extremely dangerous and volatile combination. Even the way he conducts business is the way a child imagines conducting business goes in Donald Duck's world; he shouts at his Dynatox agent in Borneo and just tells him to get rid of that toxic sludge right before he hangs up. What's the gonna do about that DEA next? Oh, yeah, bribe him again (with cartoonish bags of money, no doubt)! Cue the evil cackle! The way he expresses his cruelty and sadism? Also the way a child would do it. Look, Johnny, I think he peed his pants, he says, after they've roughened up an eighteen year old together like a pair of playground bullies! And how old is Terry here approximately? Lets say, if he was eighteen in 1969 in Vietnam, that would mean he was born in 1951, which means, in 1985, he'd be 34. This is a nearly 35 year old man, at best, doing all this nonsense. Maybe even older, because we can only speculate at his exact age. But, he certainly isn't a kid to be able to justify any of this. No. He's the type of guy who'd have his own payroll Senators instead, so go figure.

Man.

Even the name Dynatox for his company.

It's like he's deliberately taking the piss out of the whole world, naming his business a mixture of Dynamite and Toxic, not unlike a boy given a box of crayons and told to invent a name for a conglomerate, doing so to see if he can get away with flaunting it so obviously and in-your-face to the world, that his practices, are in fact, malpractices. And he can get away with it. He does get away with it. My company is Toxic and it's Dynamite. It's so obnoxious and perfect! I love it, Margaret!

I'd say that even when we are reintroduced to him thirty five years later, there's something childlike about the way he wants to fit in with a clique of ill-fitting, cookie-cutter Champagne-Liberal friends that are 'commonly acceptable' in California. It's like having that one friend who was by your side all throughout elementary school only to suddenly switch up with an entirely different type of people because it was 'the normal type' these days as opposed to, say, John Kreese or Snake, the Bad Boy of LA. The way he tries to befriend Chozen (Sensei Joe)? It strikes me like the vulnerability of a lonely kid who just remained friendless and desperately wants a rebound by showing off all the cool toys (swords) he has to impress a new potential buddy.

So, yeah. Terry Silver would know all about this regression. Not that he's aware of it.

I don't think he is.

I think he's perpetually stuck at an age he was when he went to Vietnam, which would've been 17-18 years old, vaguely speaking, and due to trauma, he just stayed there, added bonus is that he strikes me like someone who came into extraordinary amounts of money fairly early in life, perhaps inheriting his father straight out of Vientnam as early as in his 20's and he was truly just some kid, entirely unsupervised with a unimaginable number of zeroes at his beck and call which along with the war, does something to a man. Doesn't mean he's not supremely competent too. Doesn't mean he's not as clever as they come. Not to say he's not amazingly dangerous. Refined. Sophisticated. Mature-seeming. Corporate minded. But, there are aspects of him that are simultaneously so immature that there's clearly something going on there, meaning that if beloved wanted to indulge in hobbies and behaviors that are seen as regressive, they'd find themselves right at home because Terry wouldn't necessarily even notice in ways most commonplace people would because he's in that exact mindset too. After all, this is a man who declared that he's taking indefinite time off for the business of REVENGE right before telling off his team of stylists that the clothing items they've presented to him don't look poor enough for his vendetta. What in the Regina George is any of this! So, in a setting like this? Beloved could act as childish as they like because Terry would potentially be there, not only to accommodate them entirely in their every whim, but to also outact them in their act by about a mile every time.

[ssolessurvivor]

@reidinthedeep continued [x]

Nobody said recovery would be this hard. Nobody said anything about pain being untouchable. Nobody allowed him to die. Two weeks in suicide watch sort of helped with that, plus his niece and nephew. At least he could stay up all night in his private room when his phone started vibrating. He didn't immediately recognize the name and number but answered anyways.

While he had a moment of blinking in confusion as he listened to the rambling on the other end, it finally clicked: he just needed a minute of hearing that voice to register. Logan exhaled and winced from the pain underneath the bandages and tape.

"Matthew?" He asks, feeling a warmth followed by worry in his gut. "I-I mean, I never knew if they told anyone. This, it's all very hush hush. But I guess it's all leaked now, or from what limited news I hear." But he pauses and bites his lip, hearing that hopeless tone makes him sad. "I'm ok...better now that you called." Which was true, he was smiling at least now.

[thefaithbroken]

A dissertation about Zevlor that I've been meaning to write and post for some time…

Some of this is from my bio for him and some I will elaborate further upon than I do there, but here we go. // @thefaithbroken

Zevlor has been through hell, figurative and literal. A protector by nature, it was as obvious an action as breathing to become a paladin of Helm, to become a Hellrider. His strong sense of justice and his drive to defend those who could not defend themselves had him rise quickly in the ranks. It was not long before he earned the title Commander.

For a time, all was well. He was proud of his work, of his calling, of the good that he did.

And then Elturel fell.

You remember the shattered windows of Elturel's High Cathedral, the burning black sky of Avernus beyond.

In its horror, the Blood War unites you. Tiefling, dwarf, and elf alike huddle behind the shields of your paladin order, waiting for salvation. But when it comes… disunity.

The returned city casts you out, the devils who dragged them down to hell. In the end, it is not your paladin oath that is broken: It is your Faith itself.

Those of his order stood together, united in the face of possible enslavement or annihilation… until the danger had past and there was time for such ugly things as resentment, fear, hatred, and racism.

After all they had endured, after how they all had stood together and defended their home, after they had all placed their own lives in peril to defend those who needed their aid—just as Zevlor always had believed should be done—to be cast out… broke both his faith and, in many ways, him.

He was weary, wartorn, betrayed. But his people, the frightened Tiefling refugees also cast out, needed him, looked to him to guide them through the perils of the Wilds and to Baldur's Gate. He was the one with the most experience, the most authority of the lot. They looked to him and he set aside his own pain and brokenness in order to do what he could for them, so little as it might be. Older than most there, powerless with his faith left in shambles, a greater ruin even than Elturel, still he agreed to lead them. Who else was there to whom they might turn? Most of them had never held a sword, perhaps never even ventured outside of their city, in all of their lives.

Yet, even despite his knowledge and his experience, they lost many along the roads, to all manner of dangers and threats. Their numbers had substantially dwindled even before the gnoll attack… and he set each one like a mark against his very own soul, the burden of his failures, the reasons for the guilt that hunched once strong shoulders. He was not worthy to lead them. He had failed them at every turn. Without his abilities as a paladin, with his faith shattered as it was, what use has he been to them? If he has done anything at all worth note, he cannot see it. Yet, he does not ask for them to take up arms as well. Does not demand of these survivors to become soldiers. He assures the ones who wish to help, tries to encourage them even when he would have given up from the moment the order to leave was given if it hadn't been for this duty. He asks nothing of them, and takes everything upon himself, weary as he is.

That is where the story begins anew though, isn't it? Gnolls and goblins and brave, heroic adventurers, some small spark of hope rekindled at last… How surprised he is at every turn when the leader of the adventurers not only agrees to help, but even offers, does so without asking anything in return. It shocks him every time and you can hear it in the breathless, stunned quiet, particularly if the leader of the adventurers doesn't take the payment he collected from the refugees for their help in ridding them of the goblin threat. He even gives the leader his own Helm-blessed gauntlets if the player sorted Kagha. Every time he is met with kindness and aid, he is left stunned and perhaps even a bit verklempt because Elturel had shaken him so much, had broken him so much, had left him hopeless.

But these adventurers who owe them nothing had done everything in their power to help him and the other refugees, perfect strangers to them, simply because it was the right thing to do. It isn't much in the grand scheme of the world turning, but it means everything to him, which is exactly what Cerys says when you meet her at Last Light.

"The way Zevlor talked about you, I'd thought you would be ten feet tall." [ Potentially paraphrasing as I can't remember the exact wording, but that's the gist. ]

He hadn't stopped talking about the leader, about the one who returned at least some hope to him, not from the moment they left the Grove. It was the first time since Elturel fell that he felt a spark of something again that didn't feel like loss or suffering.

If only he had known how it would go from there…

What hope had been rekindled by the travelers was challenged by the Shadows as fear and uncertainty once more gripped him. Were these shadows not the same that Halsin had warned the travelers about? And yet, Cerys assured him it was only a quick detour to avoid an owlbear on the road. If his scout was so certain, then perhaps it was, in fact, the best path.

Except that it wasn't.

Not far from a place that could have been their safehaven from the shadows, it fell upon them: the might of the Absolute.

Enthralled and dominated by a being of god-like power, his brokenness, his vulnerability, his self-doubt and his guilt are what the Absolute sees and what it uses. What is it that captures him? The thought of having his power restored to him, not for his own gain… but that he might at last truly protect his people, might prevent the loss of any more lives, might at last be able to live up to all that they had asked of him when he, in his mind, had failed them so many times along this journey. The Absolute singled him out as the threat, as the one who would cause the most trouble if he was aware at the time of the ambush, and it made certain that it wouldn't be, showing him exactly what he wanted to see: him able to keep his people safe…

As they were slaughtered around him, or blindly fled into the darkness.

And by the time he can snap out of it, there's nothing he can do. It's too late. Asharak, Ikaron, Memnos, and others — dead. It's his fault. It's his fault that he was too weak. It was some personal failing of his that lead to this, clearly.

So he goes with the cultists. Lets them take him away to Moonrise.

So much for hope. So much for heroes. What a fool he had been.

There was only him and his weakness and his failure… and the dead…

Yet, upon being freed in the Mindflayer Colony by the leader of the adventurers, he fights like a madman, helps to clear the room of any and all threats, offering a glimpse at the warrior he was and still is beneath the grief. And then you can speak with him.

For this, I will use my paladin, Thraeya and the dialogue options she chose.

Zevlor: Hells, I didn't think I was going to make it… Thank you. I… I owe you an explanation. Much more than that. But first, please… The others. The ambush — tell me they survived.

Thraeya: They found refuge. But what the hells happened out there, Zevlor?

Zevlor: You've heard some of it, I'm sure. That I froze, or broke, or some other lie that is kinder than the truth. We were ambushed by cultists, yes. And then I heard… her. Their false god, whispering promises in my mind. I would be a paladin again — with a god's purpose, a god's power. Everything I needed to protect my people. And all the while, the cult tortured them. They fought, and ran, and died around me, while I imagined myself their saviour. By the time I regained my sense, it was too late. I did not just surrender to the Absolute. For a moment, I welcomed it.

Thraeya: It sounds like you were being enthralled. It's not your fault.

Zevlor: It would be nice to think so. But whatever these monsters twist us into… I believe that it begins in us. I won't make excuses. I can't make amends. But I know something of what you came to do — I want to help, i- if you'll let me. Ketheric is below. He thinks you are no longer a menace. Descend and show him how wrong he is. If there are any more survivors to be found, I'll find them and lead them out of this place.

Thraeya: Find your people. They need you.

Zevlor: They have you… Go, my friend. Please. Let me do this much.

--------

As an aside, most of the responses you can choose are less than understanding. Several of them are outright condemning, much as the tone I dislike that has been taken with the writing in answers to Gale. And, honestly, the way Zevlor talks about himself also reminds me quite a bit of how Gale talks about himself. As though he has no worth or value beyond what he can do for others—right from when you first meet him in the Grove and he says that he'll repay your kindness—as well as for feeling that there is no way he can redeem himself, no way to make amends, no way to atone. There is something inherently wrong with him.

It frustrates me to no end that the game and its writing team have chosen to treat a character like Zevlor in this manner, as though the very narrative condemns him for something utterly beyond his control. As many times as certain adventurers get charmed by harpies and Tasha's Hideous Laughter and Otto's Irresistible Dance cast by just regular, ordinary opponents, I find it a bit hypocritical to hold it against Zevlor that he gets dominated by a literal deity-level being.

We give Minthara a second chance when we recruit her despite how many deaths she's either responsible for under orders of the Absolute or would have been responsible for under the Absolute, nevermind anything she might have done or been part of as a Lolth-sworn drow.

We don't hold all of Astarion's past against him, despite all the lives it affected forever.

We don't condemn Shadowheart for being part of Shar's cult despite all of the destruction wrought.

We don't blame Lae'zel for her people literally being willing to go wipeout whoever stands in their way — including an entire monastery as well as the Flaming Fist and the tiefling scout.

We don't fault Karlach for not helping the people of Elturel while she was in the hells because she was focused on doing whatever it took to survive.

We don't hold it against Wyll that he made a bad decision because he wanted to save his city.

We don't blame Halsin for the Curse falling and for his inability to fix it all this time, or even to keep the Grove in order and Kagha, his own student, on the right path.

We don't blame or condemn or ostracize any of them for their worst act or worst failing or worst decision or worst moment.

Yet the game seems to slant towards immediately writing off characters like:

Zevlor [ who was literally in the worst mental state possible while still trying to help others and was taken advantage of because of it and then subsequently blamed by the very people he strove to protect and had protected until that point even when he was struggling, to the extent of Cerys basically saying 'fuck him' despite the fact that SHE is the whole reason they ended up in the Curse anyway even if you explained to her what happened, and Zorru — who has exactly no right since he took off and abandoned the Tiefling who the Githyanki kill — basically says he better not see Zevlor or else. ]

Nere [ who is arguably in the same boat as Minthara, if not worse for having been a drow male in Lolth-sworn society, and if you converse with him after you convince him to free the gnomes, you can even actually see the shift in his demeanor and tone, to the extreme of going from talking in third person to talking in first, as well as him seeming almost addled and confused ]

Gale [ who much of the fandom makes no secret of saying that somehow Mystra was the real victim and Gale was the problem — thanks, Larian — despite the fact that even Minsc says that where he comes from, they teach their wizard boys to be silent lest Mystra steal them away, nevermind all of her canon behavior and atrocities outside of the game ].

On the whole, the fandom pardons almost all of the team characters in some manner or other, while condemning some of the very others whose stories are quite similar. Why is that? This game literally revolves around the concept of trauma and the fallout from it, and yet… apparently the effects of trauma should hold weight only for some characters? Is that the takeaway?

Zevlor should be condemned and ostracized because he was suffering, Nere should be killed and his head taken to the Myconids despite being a puppet under the Absolute, and Gale's best ending — according to some of the very people at Larian in charge of the stories — is to kill himself for the greater good because he wasn't ready before but he can do it now.

Wow.

--------

But, I digress, Zevlor is a good person who has been through literal and metaphorical hell while trying to help people who needed help, despite the fact that he didn't even feel like he could help himself. In a moment of weakness, he was taken advantage of and enthralled, and he blames himself for all that followed — and the narrative itself seems to blame him in turn.

Instead of pointing fingers, throwing blame, and directing venom at a man who already thinks he isn't worth the space he takes up, you should be able to sit him down in camp with a warm blanket and some food beside the campfire and reassure him — just as you do with all of your companions, each in turn — that he did what he could, that he isn't defined by his worst moment, and that the world is still better for him in it. What's the most important is what he does next. And you would see him absolutely crumble.

Zevlor deserves the world, and no one will ever convince me otherwise.

[shiroi---kumo]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ He's snuck out of the castle again and he's sure he'll hear about it later. He's snuck out again to set next to the unmoving corpse of a man that wasn't quite as dead as he can only assume that His Excellency intended to leave them. Szél hasn't woken up in what feels like ages and he wishes he would. He doesn't understand. He doesn't understand what he's doing to him or what he's putting him through.

It's been ten years and he's been stuck here in this damnable world alone and he was alone because whatever His Excellency and his Lords were it certainly wasn't company. He's been alone and he doesn't know if even when Szél wakes up if he'll be able to wrap his brain around it. It'll be distant. It'll be strained. Something in the pit of his stomach tells him it'll never be the same and part of that something is the glowing red eyes that bore deep into him when he cast the man to slumber.

He's been here alone for ten years and he thinks he's going insane in the silence. He doesn't know if he will ever be the same man that he was before. He wasn't the person Szél used to know and he didn't know if he could ever be the person he needed him to be ever again. Not - not after all the horror - he's seen. Not after... the bloodshed... not with his hands so stained.

Too much has happened. Too much changed. He's been hurt. He's been killed. He has killed and he's survived so much else that has left the ghosts of Wonderland resting in his vision when he looks in the mirror. Those ghosts including his own. He can hear their cries in the back of his mind. He remembers all the voices of the one's he's killed. He remembers his own voice as he begged for his life and for the life of Opet-

He doesn't want to think about it.

There's a lot he doesn't want to think about it but he knows he'll have to - one day - eventually. The grief is there and he's been burying it for years. For a decade. For longer. Misterica is gone - and and he doesn't know how to wrap his brain around the concept of killing everyone simply to - simply to get to him. To kill all of Windaria just to get to Szél - it doesn't make sense. He can't wrap his mind around that level of greed. That level of selfishness. That level of entitlement.

Were they that big of a threat? Surely maybe Lord Bahamut and Lady Tiamat were but not them. Even as their vessels they could hardly handle their powers and everything was just a mess. They always ended up a mess. They both have lost their lives to that beast and that means - how are they supposed to - can they even defeat?

If the last ten years are anything to go off of he doesn't know if they can. This is all he has. An unconscious body of his Other and a withering hope that he'll ever get out of this mess to a point where he can say he finally knows the taste of freedom. He doesn't even know what freedom is at this point but what he does know is that he needs him. He needs Szél and he doesn't know if he can deal with the silence much longer lest he really does go insane.

What is it to be loved again? What is it to be wanted and needed and cared for? Would he - he doesn't know if he'll ever find these things again. His Excellency certainly wasn't it and everyone else was - gone. He was all that remains of his home. Chaos took them all away. Chaos took away everything all for - this.

Will Szél remember what they had when he wakes or will the gap of time between them be too large to cross? The 'will he's and 'what if's what rotate in his mind on a never ending spiral are getting hard to cope with and they are making it horribly hard to sleep. Mist is not supposed to spiral but yet for some reason he can't seem to get himself to stop.

Szél wake up soon please. Holdfény misses you.

[transcendingblood]

I’ve been dwelling a lot lately on my first crush. I was 16-17, incredibly sheltered, it was on an older YouTuber. His circle thought it was hilarious and publicly as well as privately humiliated and tbh punished me for it. One even FaceTimed me while in a room full of people pretending to not be there so they could hear me fawn about it for there amusement. TL:dr I had an innocent crush and was abused by adults for their entertainment because of it.

I’ve been dwelling a lot on this lately, and reliving some of it (purely based on my own fears about developing feelings), so I thought I’d share some of the art I’ve made over the years to vent about my abusers. Sometimes I feel like they placed a curse on me.

[shift-the-third]

I Broke Him

This follows an AU myself and @forgotten-afton came up with. Trigger warning for violence, blood, and trauma.

Featuring the characters: Lucas Wane Montgomery Gator

Mentioned: Gwen Schmidt Mr. Hippo William Afton

Lucas found himself within the depths of the Pizzaplex. The air was stale, like nobody had been down here in a long time. There were several hundred storage containers, but Lucas knew which one to go to. He had been told which container to look for to find the information he was looking for. And once he got this information, he would expose Fazbear Entertainment for what they truly were. He had made this promise to Mr. Hippo, to himself, and to everyone who had ever been slighted by the company and its murderous former co-owner, the man known as William Afton.

Turning the corner, he shone his flashlight down the row of shipping containers. The beam illuminated the number 508. Like many of the shipping containers, this one had hazard tape over the front of the container, but that wasn't going to stop Lucas. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Faz-wrench, attaching it to the device. With a few flicks of his wrist, he unlocked the container, and slowly pulled it open. The door was rusted and the noise echoed throughout the cavernous underground chamber.

Stepping into the shipping container, he found it surprisingly sparse. He had expected maybe a filing cabinet, but instead he found a single external hard-drive and a flash drive sitting in one corner. An entire shipping container for just two small objects?

Walking over, he leaned down, shining his light down on the two objects. They were both marked with purple tape. He understood the significance of the color, and knew this was exactly what he was looking for.

Suddenly, his heart nearly leapt into his throat as he heard the sudden movement of large metal feet on concrete, but sighed in relief when he saw who it was. It was only Monty Gator. He trusted Monty. He even jokingly considered himself Monty's biggest fan.

As Monty peered in on Lucas within the shipping container, his eyes suddenly flickered a bright red, and his body slightly stiffened. His movements became jerky as if losing control of his motor functions. 

"Hey there little guy," he said, voice an octave deeper than usual. The Southern drawl was still prevalent but tinged with malice.

Montgomery Gator seemed to be speaking normally, yet there was something... strange in the way he was moving that even Monty himself couldn't explain. He felt trapped in his own body and powerless to stop what would be happening next.

Lucas leaned down, grabbing the external hard drive and the flash drive before turning around to face Monty, who was looming at the entrance of the shipping container. He took note of Monty's surprisingly red, glowing eyes, but nevertheless addressed him as he usually would have.

"Thank goodness it's just you, Monty. Did you follow me down here?" He asked. "Can you keep this… whole thing between us?"

Monty's grin widened and his claws elongated ever so slightly, while a low chuckle rumbled in his throat.

"Now why would Ah' do that Luke?" He spoke in a smooth purr, as he leaned towards Lucas. "After all, ya know Ah love secrets as much as the next guy!" His tone shifted suddenly from amused to aggressive as he taps his chest with one clawed finger. "Though if you don't tell me the reason for your visitin', Luke… things might get ugly." 

The air around Monty seemed to buzz with dangerous energy, making it clear he meant what he said. It was then that Lucas knew that there was something wrong with Monty. He could feel his heart sink. The animatronic wasn't himself. He knew it almost immediately. While Monty could be rather aggressive, he had never been like this.

"Monty… what's wrong?" He asked, taking a step back. "Come on, snap out of it, bud."

Monty's eyes flickered again, his body convulsing as if there were tremors rippling through it. A low guttural growl issued from deep in his throat.

"You… you shouldn't be here," he snarled, the words coming out distorted as if they were being filtered through something else. "Fazbear is watching. They know what you're up to." He stepped forward, towering over Lucas menacingly, the muscles in his thick limbs tensing with barely contained aggression.

Oh gods. Oh gods. This was Fazbear's doing. They knew. Where had he fucked up? Where had he been reckless? Somewhere down the line, Fazbear Entertainment found out about what he had been up to… and now, they had sent a mechanical assassin after him. One that he had idolized. They probably knew that, too. They probably chose Montgomery on purpose. Tears filled his eyes.

Suddenly, Monty lunged forward, claws outstretched and teeth bared. While he was usually a cool and collected alligator rockstar - well, for the most part, at least - he seemed more like a wild beast now.

Lucas let out a scream and jumped to the side, just barely dodging the lunge. He ran towards the entrance of the shipping container and flew out of it. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to outrun Montgomery Gator.

Monty growled deeply, sprinting forward on all fours and crashing into a stack of storage crates with an eruption of wood chips. His long snout snapped furiously towards Lucas, who he saw as the intruder in Fazbear Entertainment. 

"You can't run from us, Luke!" he bellowed inhumanly. The animatronic's voice was laced with a sickening metallic echo now - a sign that something was seriously wrong.

The Glamrock Alligator charged again, swiping his massive claws roughly at the air where Lucas had been standing moments before. Looking back at the music superstar gone rogue one final time, Lucas knew that he couldn't face him alone. Not like this…

He had to find Gwen. Gwen could help him. But he was deep underground. He wouldn't be able to get to the elevator in time!

"Monty, please!" He called back as he ran down the row of shipping containers. His Fazlight fell from his hand as he ran, clattering on the floor behind him. "It's me! It's Lucas! We're friends!"

Monty charges through the space, unconcerned with anything other than taking down Lucas. He seems unfazed by what Lucas is saying, like he's not quite able to recognize him as his friend.

"You're no friend of Fazbear! You… you're trying to bring them down!" Monty snarled as he closed in on Lucas. "I have to stop you before you can ruin EVERYTHING!"

Lucas could hear Monty approaching from behind. He ran as fast as his legs could take him, his lungs burning, his heart beating in his throat. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die down here, in this horrible place. He could feel tears stinging at his eyes as he heard Monty on all fours, charging behind him, metal limbs slamming against the concrete floor…

"Please, please, not like this!" He whimpered.

Monty leapt forward, easily tackling the human from his waist and sending him sprawling to the ground. He pinned Lucas down with a growl, using his strong jaws to scrape at Lucas' chest with sharp teeth.

"You should have known better than to mess with Fazbear! They see everything. THEY KNOW EVERYTHING!" Monty roars at him, drool splattering on to the ground. "And now... you belong to them."

Lucas looked up at Monty. The animatronic he idolized. The animatronic he cared so dearly for. The tears gushed uncontrollably from his eyes. This was how it would end for him, in this dark pit deep beneath Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex, by the claw of Montgomery Gator.

"I… I forgive you. Please, please don't blame yourself, Monty." He whispered.

Monty lunged then, teeth sinking into the human's neck with a sickening crunch. Blood spurted everywhere as Monty tore flesh apart. Lucas' shrieks of pain and fear echoed throughout the open area before abruptly stopping, only faint ringing remaining.

But as he finished, something within Monty broke free from whatever had been possessing him.

He stumbled backwards, pulling away from Lucas' now lifeless body on the ground. He staggered, falling to his knees. The gator cradled himself in his massive arms as blood dripped from his teeth and fingers. After a moment, he let out a wail of anguish, before sobbing uncontrollably.

"What have I done? What have they turned me into...?" He cried bitterly, feeling immense guilt. "I... I broke him. He was a rockstar, and I broke him!"

It seemed that Fazbear Entertainment wasn't finished using Monty yet, however. Monty stood up, looking down at Lucas' lifeless body for a moment before shaking his head. Without so much as looking back at the shipping container where he unhinged Lucas' neck moments earlier, Montny set down course following the directives placed within him by Fazbear Entertainment.

He returned the flash drive and the external hard drive to their rightful place.

He cleaned himself up.

He wrapped up Lucas' lifeless body all nice and neat.

He fetched the Glamrock Foxy animatronic from storage.

It wasn't long before Monty was headed back to the surface, his eyes glazed over, barely registering the two heavy forms tucked under his muscular arms.

[ladyimaginarium]

[xtinyslip]

@lcvenderhcze continued from here.

"we’re not supposed to invite friends over for food?” not wanting to have put him on the spot at all, it had been a friendly invitation. she wanted to know more about him and if this woman was important to him? despite kassies raging trust issues, she would have tried. “she doesn’t know about me? it’s okay. i understand.” she truly did. if anyone else had heard her story they would have turned and run. no one was going to work right inside after experiencing the trauma she had. right? it made sense they kept this between them. “i know how wrong it is to miss her but sometimes i do.” she felt ashamed to say it after what that thing had done to her siblings, what it had almost done to her and her aunt beth. “you know the deal. you have to pinky promise.” she smiled, holding her pinky out to him. “maybe. we were so scared she would come back to get us. we never. i never thought about anything like… what i wanted to be in the future.” she never thought it was going to be possible to have a normal future. “maybe a nurse?” was that purely because she’d begged in her head for one to arrive when her mom had gotten sick. maybe. maybe it came from really screwed up reasons, she wasn’t sure. “i don’t understand… why?”

[tofumarinado]

it's so funny to me when i see pearl-clutching articles about how "teenagers are diagnosing themselves with mental disorders via tiktok" because like. this is not happening in a vacuum. teenagers are severely and i mean severely medically neglected. i cannot stress this enough. teenagers do not have free access to medical care. those same news outlets would be clowning on women with housewife psychosis in the 1950's.

i sometimes go pale when listening to some of what my friends have gone through in their childhoods and teenagehoods. they talk about it so nonchalantly, things that would be considered straight up torture if done to an adult, can't fathom the effect this has on children. they are on multiple anti-psychotics and several antidepressants and anxiety meds now that they are adults. medical neglect has legally and effectively disabled them. a timely diagnosis and intervention could have saved them. of course teenagers are self-diagnosing using tiktok. if your knee-jerk reaction is to scoff at the idea and dismiss it as dumb teenager shit instead of being radicalized because the best shot young people have at attaining the mental health support they need is a fucking dancing videos app, you're categorically a political enemy of the youth.

[comikbook]

The Eyes of God, 2023, Digital Painting by myself, Liz Pence

[gampix]

Guilt.

[terrence-silver]

How would Terry cope with accidentally killing beloved?

---

Same thing that happened with Ponytail happens.

He usurps beloved.

Embodies them.

Adopts mannerisms. Adopts speech patterns. Habits. Beliefs. Quirks. Flaws. Outward aesthetic presentation he adapts to himself. Everything that they were before it happened and it wouldn't even be the first time either because Terry Silver already feels he was pretty directly responsible for someone's death before (A death he was actually impacted by for life and one he actually, dare I say, regrets? Or is at least haunted by?) that death being, yes, you guessed it, Ponytail's. That too was an accident and a loss of control so deciding it changed the trajectory of Terry's entire existence, just about. And call it what you will; identity theft, usurpation, claiming someone, paying homage and coping with wartime survivor's guilt, depersonalization and re-personalization into something or someone else during times of trauma and duress, mirroring, face stealing or plain old imitation for imitation's sake or all of the above, but point is --- this is the closest to how Terry Silver was shown coping with another close person's death and in the off chance he doesn't actually follow after beloved and offs himself too in mourning, I can genuinely see him posthumously taking over their personality too and ensure they...in a weird, parasitic sense continue existing and living through him like that.

[ssolessurvivor]

While he absolutely loves the holidays and the snow, sometimes it can just get to be too much. All the family over at the cabin a lot, the quiet of the snow, the cold seeping in through the windows. One would say a trigger can't be something so calm and tranquil.

But that's exactly what the trigger is. It's too quiet. Always too quiet. All he can hear in his head is their screams as he made it too late to hold them, the cold of the station plummeting even colder with the windows having been shattered: the ice crystals on the windows in the morning remind him of that.

Logan isn't one to verbally lash out at anyone, but he's close. Grinding his teeth, that muscle in his jaw popping out and burning with the exertion of the repetitive motion. Hands snake through his hair and tug idly, trying to feel the pain to ground himself, to bring him back out of his head, out from under the claws of his demons threatening to rip him apart all over again. And again, and again.

[sioraiocht]

~ @falliblexpenance || cont'd from x ~

Natasha hadn't been sleeping. The nightmares were suffocating her, every time she closed her eyes she was falling on Vormir, watching Clint's face retreating into the distance. Then there was a bang and she woke up sobbing into the pillow. However, she couldn't admit that. She wouldn't. Natasha needed everyone to think she was okay. Especially Clint. For some reason, it meant the most to her that he thought she was doing well. Which was stupid given the fact that he knew her better than anyone.

However, even Natasha couldn't deny the weakness in her body as she clung to him. "Maybe -" She swallowed, taking a breath and pushing hair back from her face. "Just a break. Can we get food?"

[shiroi---kumo]

Morality Meme || Accepting

@ l/ady-quen asked:

Something he hasn't been asked before (as much): 💋: How easily is he tempted? (Absolutely does not have to be in *that* context. Think material gain, favors, etc)

Buckle up, this is gunna be long and a RIDE.

The trick is when it comes to Kumo on the topic of "tempted" (and not that as you said) is there are two sides to this ->

The idea of tempting or the idea of giving into temptation.

Considering the original question doesn't specify which side we're going to, we're going to go with temptations.

And there are a lot of them and if you want to view things like candy, sugar, indulgences, etc - Kumo gives in often and easily.

The thing about it is though, is, that it's entirely riding on an outsider's perspective of Kumo's actions and if someone like, say Kaze, were to just let Kumo be and react to situations for a week however he so pleases and then judged him on how he reacted over that week -> through an outsider's lens it would appear that Kumo caves to temptations at nearly every turn.

But we're not going from an outsider's perspective. We're going from Kumo's perspective and that is an entirely different situation. This is also why the boys clash so often because the outsider's perspective simply doesn't know / understand why Kumo is doing what he's doing.

In Kumo's mind, he almost never caves to temptations and when you look at the world from his eyes - he's right.

It's taken over two years - real time - for Kumo to dance in front of Kaze (dance in general) totally carefree and to just move, DESPITE the fact, his body tingles and his skin prickles whenever he hears the sound of any form of tune. Kumo hears sound with his entire body but he hasn't combusted yet with his overwhelming full body urge to just move. And when he wanted to sing, he removed himself from what he assumed was Kaze's earshot because he did not want to nor did he feel comfortable doing so in front of the man. He made himself smaller instead of just caving to the urge and singing regardless of whether or not anyone could hear him.

He resists the urge to just flip himself upside down more often than not because he knows it annoys his Other to no end when he does so and he hasn't taken to the sky to just go exist inside a cloud for thirty minutes because of a previous threat to shoot him down if he flew ahead.

Kumo needs to be in the air to breathe properly but yet he has remained mostly grounded due to his extreme fear of angering Kaze. And I do mean extreme.

In Kumo's mind, he doesn't act outside of the boundaries that have been set for him, to the point of even denying his own needs to an extent, if only to keep the peace.

An Outsider's perspective would lead them to tell you that Kumo is a spoiled child that gets whatever he wants, whines and cries to achieve that and lives of sugar and candy that sleeps all the time.

Kumo's perspective would tell you, he is a terrified abuse survivor who is slowly dying due to a curse that is killing him little bits at a time so he sleeps as much as possible because he's running out of energy, who only eats what sugar they can afford and deemed acceptable despite needing it to literally function, drinks half the water he needs because of lack of storage issues, and only cries when his emotions become too much and he can no longer control them. The emotions only come out when the bottle holding them cracks.

An Outsider's perspective would tell you "Spoiled Royal."

And Kumo would even resist the temptation then to tell that person to go fuck themselves because spoiled is the last thing he's ever been. Those two words rub him raw enough to make him bleed but he won't say that either because causing confrontation is improper and he has an aversion to fighting and yelling so he avoids them at all costs.

How often and easily does Kumo give into temptation? He doesn't.

And I say this for a multitude of reasons but mostly that when Kumo "gives into temptation" for something, he's not giving in at all actually. He's been given permission to do something, so he is acting on that permission.

As a prime example, in Kumo's mind, his relationship to Kaze (not with. TO) functions solely around the sentence "I obey you." Because that is how he feels about that man at its root core. He loves him. He cares about him and one might think that his vision is being deluded by his feelings towards Rorahm, but Kumo told himself to come to terms with the fact that Rorahm was dead many months ago.

He no longer sees Kaze as that man. He sees the essence of Rorahm the person as dead but the name Rorahm remains as simply a name and that is why Pilvi and Seejvariil will still use it. But at the core of it, that's where Kumo's mind sets "I obey you." so he would never dare defy someone like Kaze - someone he holds extreme fear in even if "giving into temptation" is doing something is literally a basic need for his survival.

And he's been like this his entire life so whether Kaze is aware of it or not, Kumo was built with a foundation that tells his mind to obey before all else and that includes giving into any form of temptation that could be for his own benefit. Even at seven, Kumo would ask his teachers "Could we maybe color?" instead of just simply coloring as a seven year old should.

Even as a child, he was asking for permission before he did something and that includes: coloring, singing, dancing, drawing, painting, napping, cuddling, eating his favorite foods or really anything at all.

Kumo doesn't give into temptation because he defaults to permission before all else. Even in a relationship type context, Kumo didn't even haul off and kiss Kain. His brain absolutely thought 'I would like to kiss him' but instead of just doing so - Kumo proceeded to ask Kain "Would it perhaps be acceptable if I kissed you?"

Kumo is obsessed with the concept of consent and he means that by way of his own AND everyone else's. He does not just do things to do them. He will check to make sure he's not inconveniencing anyone by doing something. Even if that thing is a nap. He will tell someone he is going to take a nap before he does so. He will also tell that person they can wake him for any reason if they require him even if sleep for him right now is literally life saving.

Kumo's body has become a shattered broken mess of spreading soul scars because he won't fall to temptations of any kind for any reason. He will not prioritize himself for anything and his childhood had a lot to do with it. His current day issues also are what's causing this because having events like:

the 12 years of torture and abuse of all kinds in Gaudium,

Kaze's use of aggressive force, degrading language and dismissive attitude (using his body to intimidate, putting Orthrus flush to his neck to intimidate, back handing him with Orthrus for breaking eye contact, " you foolish boy"/ "spoiled royal" / "spoiled brat", calling him a liar when kumo said he loved him, telling kumo he needed to throw away his love because he was a sword, and an all around lack of general care or concern for Kumo's well being),

and the recent recapture by Anarchy

has only worked to solidify his belief that he needs to inconvenience those around him as little possible and that his existence and needs are things that can inconvenience others.

He doesn't function for material gain either. Ever. He didn't haul off and just go buy the Makea Meloni. No, he begged Kaze for it. (He asked for permission) Even with his goals to take the throne and become King of Wonderland aren't for material gain. He's literally doing this to heal the pain and turmoil in Wonderland to starve out Chaos - therefore weakening their enemy so they can stand in the face of it without causing so much death and destruction.

He's literally aiming for that seat, not for material gain or power. He's a Misterican Royal - they serve their people, not the other way around - so he's doing it to enlist himself into service of the people of Wonderland and therefore the Universe and he won't just declare himself King, even though the seat is currently empty. He is working to get Wonderland's approval before he does so.

Because at the end of everything, no matter what the situation is - Kumo operations on permission before all else.

[rhinexstone]

My fav version of poison ivys power origin story is a lá Thorns (medically tortured as a kid) and when she learns about a literal child following batman around she FREAKS OUT.

Ivy gets batman alone then serves him a total curveball: she wants to vaccinate Robin from most of her toxins. Bruce thinks it’s a trap until word on the street is that Scarecrow and joker had multiple poisons stolen. He confronts ivy and she admits to stealing them but it’s for the proposed vaccine for Robin.

The rules are that he’s not allowed any samples of the vaccine, and Robin stays with her for three hours for the vaccine to fully absorb into his system. Batman can stay with him, but only in the same room as she might need to use lab equipment.

So every Robin gets the very odd experience of having their biannual vaccine from Dr. Poison Ivy, where they are all on their best behavior and get biodegradable stickers while Bruce just very patiently sits next to them like >:| with one of those temperature guns aimed at their heads