#until i wrote this lmao

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

[ content warning: discussion of in-canon sexual abuse ] Maybe it’s just because I’m not too active in the ALNST fandom and mostly observe from afar, but I think this fandom brushed aside way too quickly the fact that Till was sexually assaulted. I have never seen anyone talk in depth about like, what that actually means in terms of his arc and the storytelling of his character. Which I find deeply, deeply upsetting because holy fucking shit.

This man right here has been told, basically his entire life, that not only is he himself not worthy of being treated as a human, but that his body is not his body, but a piece of property that can be owned. And whoever owns his property can use it for whatever, and however they wish. Now, dehumanization is nothing new or unique in this world, obviously. The very concept of Pet Humans is dehumanizing by nature, leaving all six of our main characters as victims to it, even those who are more well-off like Mizi. But Till is a specially fucked up case almost distinctly unlike the rest, because he is actually treated like a fucking dog.

(x) Ivan: If you keep rebelling like that, they won’t ever remove your collar you know? Till: This annoying bastard… — Ivan: I told you so, didn’t I? You didn’t listen? Till: This annoying bastard... (translation courtesy of @leiikos on youtube)

(x)

An unruly animal who needs to be leashed up and put in it’s place. Animals, as is common knowledge, are not on the same level as a human being. But they are ordained to follow the commands of those above them. And if someone (thing) isn’t doing as it is told…

It deserves to be taught better. But I’m getting ahead of myself. This is the mindset that has followed Till his entire life by the ones who were supposed to take care of him. He is not human, even less human than the existing inhuman. He is a pet, even more so than the other pets, an animal. A thing. Property. Something to own. And the best thing about owning something?

You gain the ability to do whatever you want to it. Till’s body was not his from the start. It was used as something to toy around with, experiment with, to train and train and train, presumably for his whole life. His body, his skin, his flesh and bone and blood, it was all nothing more than a plaything. So what if he screams? Just ignore it. Or don’t. If this competition has taught us anything, voices have the most value of all. On top of it being reinforced that Till is not deserving of humanity, he is also not deserving of his bodily autonomy. People are free to do whatever they want with his body because it’s not his body, it’s theirs. And that brings us, finally, to the scene itself

He can’t sing her song, he refuses to. This isn’t the first time he’s refused to do something, far from it actually. What was once an innocent puppy with dilated hope in his eyes has grown into an angry, disobedient mutt. And we know what happens to an animal that refuses to do what they’re told. But there’s something interesting about dogs, or rather about the ones they descended from, the wolf: When the circumstances call for it, they will bite the hand that’s supposed to feed them.

And here is where I intrude to remind you that this is the only time we see anyone physically fighting back against the aliens in the confines of Alien Stage. We see Hyuna and Mizi fucking up aliens in All In, but that was after they had escaped from the cage. And you could make a case for Mizi trying to escape the grasp of the guards that grabbed her in Ruler of My Heart, but from what we saw she didn’t actually lay a hand on them and more so just tried to force herself out of their grasp. though if you disagree with me on that that's fine Here though? Till has this bitch’s face grabbed into his palm with a bottle in hand ready to smash it directly in between it’s eyes. I consider this to be the first act of physical violence shown against the aliens within the uncomfortably tight enclosure. And it’s triggered not because of anything personally done to Till, which on its own could probably fill a list that reaches the ground. But because of the prospect of Mizi being dead. Till knows that this place is shit, that his life is shit. Said so directly on his profile.

Dislikes: Everyone, including Guardian Urak (translation courtesy of @kh47uo on twitter)

But he stays regardless because Mizi is there. If Mizi is dead, Till has absolutely nothing to lose…Right?

I can almost imagine him thinking: There’s nothing you can put me through that’s worse than every other way you’ve hurt me. …But there was. Oh there was.

A final, disgusting message to the pet to put him back in his place. Back on his leash. Making sure he will never forget where he stands for the rest of his days.

And that is really what the sexual assault of Till represents to me. It is a cruel reminder to Till that fighting back is impossible, having hope, being free, it might as well be a fool's fantasy. He will always be less-than-human, less than anything. His body will always be the property of the ones that were supposed to protect him, claimed, and then used used used until it’s worn out and dead.

And the aliens chose to exemplify that fact in the most direct way they possibly could.

So what if he screams? Just ignore it. Or don’t. If this competition has taught us anything, screams have the most value of all

[svgvru]

okay but imagine subby dazai who loves to be called Princess …🙏🙏🙏

admin ( posted for the first time in a while ) but like, ur so right nonnie omg. he'd be so cute! imagine him being his brat like self, pulling a couple of pranks, pushing buttons he knows he's not supposed to push, the usual. he'd play fight you, knowing damn well he can't win. he's a bit too frail, too thin and small compared to you. there's no way he'd win, but he tries regardless, whimpering when you pin him to the wall.

his right side his pressed firmly to the wall, one leg is keeping him afoot while the other is in your hold. his left side his folded due to your arms caging his leg to his head between your arms. he's completely trapped and under your control, his arms and legs of no use, just like he wanted of course. imagine slowly pushing into him, sighing at the way his walls feel. "you just have to be irritating, hm?" you grit your teeth, buck up into his hole, smiling at the way his dick slumps downwards due to gravity. "i thought you wanted to be my princess? well—then again, princesses tend to be bratty," you whisper, pressing sloppy kisses to his neck, "guess the slipper fits."

dazai whines at the nickname, his cheeks are reddend with blush as he takes your cock like a champ. his hazel eyes catch the way your cock bulges beneath his belly button, and he almost cums from the sight. "come on, princess. be as bratty as you need to," you coo in his ear, "'m right here."

a chuckle leaves your lips when dazai practically yells your name, muttering "mhm"s and "yesyesyes," over and over again. he's a cutie!

[cross-eyed-boy]

(@bulltuskbutch you asked to see where this was going so 🫣)

dad who gets home on a regular day, expecting the usual routine of hanging out with its son, making food for the both of them, then telling him its going out, knowing its boy doesn't ask questions, he's too old to care what his dad does on its personal time.

dad who's still ashamed it has so many one night stands each week. not ashamed of having sex, or doing it with guys, no... just of all of them being much younger boys who look suspiciously similar to its own son. it did stop for a while, after the first time it moaned its son's name when it came. but the urges were so strong it was afraid it might end up touching him for real, so it's back to a routine of fucking boys with the same skintone and dark curls. sometimes it even works up the courage to ask if it can call a boy a different name... thinking about raping your son while fucking another guy is okay as long as you never actually act on it, right?

dad who's surprised to find the house empty and dark, who calls for its son as it makes its way through the rooms, until it sees the faintest bit of light coming from the unused basement. there's noise coming from there, too, so it starts down the stairs in a hurry, afraid something might have happened to its son. something hits it in the back of the head, and the last thing it sees as it tumbles down is a pool of blood spreading on the floor in a corner of the room.

dad who wakes up some time later, tied to a chair under the bare lightbulb hanging from the basement ceiling. it blinks, vision coming into focus just as it takes in the sight before it. its son, covered in blood, hair matted to his forehead with sweat, crouched next to a few bodies slumped against the wall. it takes the dad too long to recognise the faces, left pristine in contrast to the bloody, lacerated bodies: the boy it fucked a week ago, who let it call him by its son's name; one from a couple of months back who looked so similar to its son it cried after it was done fucking him; another it had forgotten about, not even from the city. and, closest to its son who has his hand in the boy's hair, pulling his face back, the boy it was supposed to meet tonight.

'hi, dad.'

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu Drabble - Cafe Gossip

I am back with another Drabble <3 It is another kitty one hihi.

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Also. @spotaus You better be ready :D

Timeline wise? about like... 9 months after nightmare got deaged. Guys have been in farmtale for like half a year (so where the gang is it is winter)

*--------------*

Ccino sighs as he tries to find the damn cattoy. He swears Berry hid it somewhere around the cattree. He just knows. He can see Berry staring at him with joy as Ccino searches.

Ccino huffs as he shoots a glare at Berry "Anyone saying you don't like pranks is a filthy liar."

Berry has the nerve to jump down and nuzzle him with a purr before wandering off.

Ccino starts to doubt if the toy is actually here. He sighs and sits down at the base for a moment. Watching as Dream's cat version, Sun, rushes by. Sniffing, searhcing and crying loudly.

Sun makes a lot of noise as he goes and it breaks Ccino's soul.

Sun rushes to another room and a lot of noise comes from it. Well, that doesn't matter really.

It isn't like he gets cross-universe customers anymore anyway.

Ccino used to be a bit of a hotspot for other travelers. They all loved to visit him and eat as his cafe.

But... well.

That changed when he heard people whine about the damage that Nightmare and his gang had done.

And ccino had questioned why they thought they knew better than an actual god whoes job it was to do what he was doing.

That had just been the start. people said he agreed with what they were doing and how. Ccino tries to explain multiple times he doesn't say what happens is right. but he also tried to explain that just that it is stupid to think they knew better if they don't even know their reasons.

Quite a few insults his way later and the customers left.

It continued like that for a while. Now his place is a lot more quiet than it used to be. Ccino doesn't mind however. Honestly? this way at least the special cats cna mvoe around freely without Ccino having to be worried someone will connect the dots.

And people from his own universe still visit anyway so he is good still.

Ccino sighs as he rises to his feet and quickly goes to the counter. he crouches down and opens a cabinet and smiles softly "hey there Noot." he slowly reaches his arm and hand inside.

Noot blinks his one good eye open and sniffs the hand. then he pushes his head into Ccino's hands for pets which he happily gives one of his favourite cats.

Noot purrs loudly and Ccino feels a part of him relaxes. At least Noot didn't seem to get worse and evne the vet agreed.

...

Look maybe he shouldn't have taken a cat that is somehow connected to a very important person in the multiverse but Ccino was panicking!

He was so afraid Noot had been dying and by expansion Nightmare! He got the cat packed up and took him to the vet.

Ccino doesn't think he ever heard Murder, Oreo, Stain or Rust sound that panicked. ever. ccino had felt horrible about taking Noot away form them. The tiny kitten crying had been soulbreaking.

But he needed to be sure. So he took Noot straight to the vet and waited.

After a long examination and some vague lies the vet reassured him that Noot was just an old cat. To make sure the cat was comfortable and to let him rest his body when he felt the need.

ccino had felt such intense relieve he doesn't think anything is going to meassure up to that. ever. He happily took Noot back to the cafe and let him and the others of his little cat gang cuddle as he got to work.

He hallowed out one of the cabinets and made a comfortable little cat den for Noot and any of the cats that followed him around.

Ccino sneaks a look into the cabinet and smiles "alone today?"

Noot just keeps nuzzling his hand.

a sound of something landing. Ccino glances up and sees Murder on top of the counter, staring menacingly at him, which is sightly ruined by the cute kitten he holds in his mouth.

Murder huffs and quickly jumps down and climbs into the little cubby. He lays the kitten right by noot before starting to groom the bigger cat.

Ccino chuckles before rising back to his feet. He leans on his hand as he watches his cafe and keeps an eye on his cats.

Eventually Ccino's eye lights find a pamphlet. He takes it into his hands and rereads it.

It is a message from the Stars. a short explanation that Dream had been in the wrong and making things worse while Nightmare had been helping people.

It felt amazing being right.

Ccino chuckles as he hangs it on the news board before moving back to the counter. His mind thinking back to the one time he met the Stars... It had been ages ago. Back when the Stars patrolled the multiverse for the Crescents. longer than a year ago...

Ccino sighs as he grabs Stain off the counter again. He tried to give the cat a strict look "don't do that. you could get hurt." Stain just makes a little blep as he stares at him.

Ccino chuckles as he puts the cat back to the ground. Stain looks insulted by the very idea of it before huffing and walking off.

He smiles at the cats carefully before stretching his limbs out.

All in all it had been rather quiet today. Some customers had come by and one of the older cats had been adopted. it always warmth his soul to see one of the older gentle cats finally finding their forever home.

The bell rings and Ccino looks up with a smile "Welcome to the Cuddle Cat!" then he sees who it are and freezes.

He never actually met or saw them in person before. His little corner in his nowhere cafe wasn't exactly a big place. it was just a quiet spot people who wandered lost tended to find. It is how most of his cats arrive here too.

So no. He had never truly expected the Stars to just walk in.

The three walk over with purpose and the one with the golden crown smiles brightly. Ccino immediantly knows this is Dream. Mostly because well... it is just the shape of Dream's face is exactly like Nightmare's...

Dream doesn't seem to notice or maybe he assumes his shock is because of awe? Ccino doesn't feel excited. in matter of fact. he feels a bit sick. Wait! What time is it?!

He glances at the clock. okay. okay. it is only 3. that gives him enough time to get these three out before Ngihtmare's normal arrival time.

Oh shit he really is going to lie to the Stars isn't he?! No Ccino. don't panic. Maybe they won't even ask about that stuff?

Dream starts speaking and Ccino focusses back on him. Dream smiles as he speaks "Hello, I am Dream. and these are my teammates Blue and Ink." Blue waves when his name is said and Ink puffs up his chest when he is named. Dream smiles "We are the Stars. we protect the multiverse."

Ccino gives a slow nod "Yeah.. I heard about you guys. euh... welcome to my cafe. it is a cat shelter and cafe in one, if you wish i could tell you a bit about the concept?" when in doubt return to your customer service lines and voice. go full npc.

Drema blinks before looking curiously at the cats. he gives a smaller smile "I would love to hear it.".

Strange. This smile seems more honest to Ccino. Well, not his business.

The cafe however is!

Ccino takes a moment to explain how this place takes in wadnering cats nad helps them heal and socialise until they are ready to be adopted out again. The cafe is to encourage people to relax with some food and drinks to get familiar with the different cats.

At the end Ccino smiles "Would you like to order something?"

Ink grins and looks proud "We are the saviors of the multiverse!" he grins and looks pointedly at the food items "These all look very good! I would love to have some."

Ccino immediatnly feels done with all three of them even as Dream and Blue give Ink disapproving looks. Ccino had 'famous' customers before. Mettaton tries it each time.

Ccino smiles brightly back "Well! Let me know which one you want to buy! The prices are right by the display."

Ink blinks at him wiht two questionmarks in his eyes. Ccino jsut keeps smiling.

Ink frowns before grinning again "We are saviors. It would be very nice to be given thanks."

Ccino tilts his skull "What did you save us from exactly? I don't feel very saved. Not to forget. I don't do special discounts. if you want something you can pay for it."

Ink glares but Blue stops himw ith a shake of his skull. Blue pulls him back and Ccino can hear Blue berate Ink for acting entitled and just because some people gave him stuff deosn't mean everyone has to.

Dream smiles "Sorry for him." he pulls out a wallet and looks through the many different types of money and gold in there "Three chocolate milks and three shortcakes please."

Ccino nods as he gives the price before turning to make the drinks and get the cakes. It only takes a moment to ready the drinks and food and give them over in trade for the money.

Ccino gives them a smile and motions them towards the table as he turns to put the money away.

A moment later and Ccino can't help but feel like he is being watched. He looks over and sees the stars drinking but also quietly talking. Ccino notices the glances shot his way and it makes him a bit nervous.

It isn't like he made it a secret that he didn't allow slander of Ngihtmare nad his gang in here. maybe that protective feeling he had was going to get him into trouble after all. But how could he not? It wasn't his fault that he had found Nightmare sound asleep in the reading chair before, using his tendrils to wrap around himself as all the gang cats laid around him.

Ccino felt justified in his protective feelings.

silence surrounds them as ccino just does what he usually does.check inventory. check the cats. make sure the machines are clean.

The stars take a long time. it is already past four before Ink and Blue leave.

Only Drema walks voer to him with a gentle smile. Ccino raises a brow "Was something wrong with your order?"

Dream blinks and shakes his skulll "no! Not at all! It was amazing! It is just... I wanted to talk."

Ccino frowns and gives a slow nod "Well. It is quiet now so it should be fine. is there something wrong?"

Dream takes a deep sigh "It is... about my brother." his soul freezes and Dream gives a gentle smile "I have heard.. rumours that he visited this place. I wanted to be sure everythign is okay. and if you dind't realise at least warn you!"

Ccino frowns as he turns back to the machine "I have been clear to everyone in here. I don't allow slander."

Dream frowns as he looks unsure "and I admire that! But... it is for your own safety. If my brother visits this place I need to know. especially when he does."

Ccino shoots him a glare "and why woudl you ened that? To control my place? to control who is allowed to come here and go?"

Drema sputters and backs off looking shocked "of course not! It is for safety reasons!"

Ccino huffs as he crosses his arms "Give me the reason. Because no one here has ever been brought into any danger from Nightmare or the crescents. The people who make the most trouble are those who feel entitled to things or information or feel like they have any say in what i do with MY business."

Dream just gapes at him. clearly unsure what to do or say next. a bit of doubt appears on his face as he rubs his arm "I am just trying to help..."

Ccino huffs as he turns abck to the spotless counter to clean nothing "Give it to someone who actually asked for it or wanted it. I don't need anyone spreading hate and rumours in my place."

Dream just stared at him but afterwards he left.

Ccino is still unsure where he had gotten that bravery from. Protective feelings are overpowered honestly.

The Stars never returned.

Of course they didn't. Ccino had made it clear he didn't want them there at least.

It did slow his customers though and it was a shame to see that happen but at least he ddin't have to worry as much.

Well, that was before Ngihtamre disappeared without a trace.

THe bell rigns.

Ccino looks up and says his greeting wiht his normal smile "Welcome to the Cuddly Cat-" and he freezes.

Because that is Dream. Looking nervous and shy as he waves.

Ccino doesn't even think as he glares before speaking "Well if it isn't the god that didn't evne bother to read his own job description."

Ccino expected a lot.

He did not expect Dream to start laughing before smiling happily a she answers "I know right? I made a mess of things... It is just..." he rubs his arm "I heard you have... very special cats and i was hoping to meet them?"

Ccino wants to say no. Tell him to leave.

But...

The pamphlet.

The fact that Dream's cat version had been screaming his little head off searching for Noot.

Ccino sighs as he waves him up "make sure to turn the sign to closed please."

May as well see this mess through.

*--------------*

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[whorekneecentral]

hmmm okay would you feel some toto after today? the launch had me 👀 i’m ngl

maybe something casual like hes still working so hard to get everything perfect for testing? and then you try to get him to take a break, maybe with prompt 6 and 67?

-🐣

this is from the merc launch 😭 this has been in my inbox for way too long lmao // prompt: “I didn’t realize I needed your permission” + “you cocky bastard.” “what’s that ? you want my cock?” 

"Mr. Wolff?" You knocked on his door, peeking into the dressing room. "20 minutes to launch." You tell him, giving him the time warning.

"Come in for a minute, would you?" He calls, back turned to you. You step into the room, letting the door shut behind you. "Tie or no tie?" He turns to face you, holding up the black tie.

"I rather no tie but up to you."

"I didn't realize I needed your permission," he starts, causing your brows to furrow, "you asked my opinion." You rolled your eyes, earning yourself a smile from him.

"I'm just teasing, y/n."

He tosses the tie onto the chair, moving closer to you. His arm out in front of you and instinctively, you reach out to fix the cuff of his sleeve.

"Aren't you always?" You glance up at him, moving onto his other sleeve. "You cocky bastard," you mumble. Toto grabs your chin, pulling you to look at him.

"What's that? You want my cock?" He asks, feigning a look of confusion. Your cheeks are bright red, you can feel the heat and his gaze is not helping.

"Stop that." You tell him, pulling away.

"Stop what, sweetheart?"

"They need you outside in 15," you remind him, letting out a breath. Toto's hand rests on your hip, looking down at you. "Then you better behave so we're back in time, hm?"

[procyonloser]

"Halloween is the best human holiday," Adam said happily, strolling down the sidewalk in his modern human disguise, which happened to just be himself minus the wings and height. But, confusingly, he'd put on a new disguise, a costume that made him look like some sort of convict in white and black stripes. Lute followed behind him in a black dress and wig, less convinced, more judgemental over the humans they passed on the road.

"I truly don't understand, sir..." she said, jerking sideways as a group of kids in horrible masks ran past them.

"It's the one holiday that is equally beloved by children and adults, Tits. Kids get to be over the top and loud, they get all the candy they want, and can just be little menaces - and adults get to dress up all slutty and bang strangers in masks!" Adam told her, looking wistfully across the street. "They got the idea from me, you know. My descendants. I'm so proud."

Lute made a noise of doubt. "All I see are a bunch of future sinners..."

Adam shrugged a shoulder. "Maybe, but remember they're innocent until they die! We don't kill them until then. Right now, we just have fun, enjoy the-"

"-creativity, the ambiance, the theatrics of it all!" A voice cut Adam off, as two figures walked towards them on the sidewalk. The shorter of the two was gesturing wildly as he spoke. "Humanity is incredible, look at how inventive they are, look at how they've taken their cultural fears and turned them into something to celebrate!"

Adam blinked, agreeing with the man totally. Not enough people understood how amazing humanity, (and therefore himself), was.

"Thank you! You get it!" Adam said, gesturing to him as they got closer. The guy was dressed as a strange little bunny man, and his companion was a tall blonde woman dressed as- oh, Adam realized she was Jessica Rabbit. She was hot, undeniably, but she looked entirely uninterested in that he was saying. Her fucking loss, the guy totally understood what he was trying to tell Lute. "I've been trying to tell her how much better Halloween was as a holiday!" Adam said, hip checking Lute.

The bunny man perked up, eyes big and bright as he nodded his head. "My wife doesn't get it either, but I love it! I love all the death related holidays, but this one is just so fun! I love candy! I've had about five bags so far, humans keep thinking I'm a truck or trunter, am I saying that right?"

"I know this town pretty well, do you want to hang out with us while I show her around?" Adam asked the couple, watching as the woman blanched, but the man beamed up at him, hands on his hips.

"Boy, do I! What do you think, sweetie? This sounds like fun doesn't it?!" He turned back to his wife, who seemed honestly like a giant stick in the mud. The husband was cuter anyway, Adam thought.

"Why don't you two go along," she said finally with a deep sigh. "I think I'll stay and talk with your...friend."

Adam looked over at Lute, who seemed focused on the Jessica Rabbit woman like a hawk, not particularly happy with her either. But, oh well, if she was going to be a bitch the entire time, he'd rather hang out with the stranger.

"Come on, at least someone will listen to me." Adam said, wrapping an arm around the man's shoulder, nodding his head down the street.

Lilith's horns began to curl out of her skull as she stared down Lute, who had pulled a knife out of who knew where.

"We need to stop meeting like this, Lute." Lilith said lightly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "How many Halloweens has it been now?"

"35," Lute bit out in reluctant anger. "What kind of spell does Lucifer use to disguise himself from Adam?"

"None, dear, Adam is just stupid." Lilith answered with a smirk.

"What does that make Lucifer?" Lute countered, raising an eyebrow.

"An optimist," Lilith responded effortlessly. "Would you like to get a drink first before we fight?"

Lute begrudgingly agreed.

[justaz]

once merlin puts arthur to rest, the world around him disappears and he’s in ealdor staring at his mother’s back. his sobs from the lake grow worse at the sight of his mother and he wails like he’s a child again, calling repeatedly for his ma. she spins around and finds him, without asking any questions she dashes forward and pulls him into a hug, holding his weight as he falls apart in her grasp, choking out nonsensical words and soaking her dress with tears, snot, and drool, his overwhelming grief causing him to ignore any sense of shame he might’ve felt at such a scene.

he doesn’t remember explaining anything to her, frankly he doesn’t remember much beyond the cries he pressed into her shoulder, but she says he’s been in ealdor for a week. she’s clearly worried and asks, no, begs him to eat or drink but he doesn’t feel the need or desire to, and even if he did, he simply doesn’t have the energy to bring the sustenance to his mouth. she cradles his head in her lap and runs her finger through his hair like she did when he had a nightmare when he was younger. it’s almost enough to make the entire thing seem like a horrible, horrible dream. but theres blood on his tunic where he held arthur’s body to his own so he knows it’s not true.

his mother doesn’t ask any questions, the look in her eyes telling him that she knows anyway. perhaps his nonsensical babble created a clear enough image for her to understand. maybe she just saw the broken look in his eyes and came to the conclusion on her own. she doesn’t mention him. merlin isn’t sure if he’s relieved about that or not. in the end, he brings it up, he asks how she was able to go on after balinor left. he asks how she was able to pick herself back up on her own two feet and carry on life as normal after receiving his letter informing her of his passing. she says sometimes she can’t, sometimes she lays in bed and listens to the birds sing and can’t help but hate them. she says she lives on for him anyway. she pushes herself up and makes food and works in the fields even when she hate the world around her.

merlin tries to relate, tries to understand, tries to imagine himself getting up every morning and living on in his name. he can’t. his parents loved each other, he knows that, but they were their own people and were able to stand the years apart. merlin…merlin is arthur’s, even in death. everything he is, everything he’s done, has been for arthur. he is half of merlin’s soul, the center of merlin’s world. how can anyone expect him to move on as if he’s capable of being alone? how can anyone expect him to function as if half of his soul, half of himself, isn’t dead in a lake? merlin can’t do it, he can’t imagine living a life without arthur. he barely got through the week and that’s only because he was passed out for a majority of it. how could he make it a year, much less another fifty?

he can’t. he can’t do it. he can’t breathe, he’s in agony, the world around him doesn’t exist anymore. not without arthur.

he’s back at the lake now, tears still streaming down his face despite the pounding headache from dehydration yet it doesn’t matter, not anymore. none of it does. he stumbles into the lake and sends his magic into the water to tug excalibur from the depths. he can feel freya pulling the sword back, but his magic overpowers hers easily and the sword springs from the lake, gleaming in the afternoon sun. freya’s face appears in the ripples of the water next to him, her expression pleading and sorrowful. merlin whispers an apology before turning back to the sword, staring at the sharp point of the blade. he brings it closer to hover just over his heart, the metal pressing against his skin but not enough to draw blood just yet.

peace washes over him. the sun warms his skin and the water cools him to keep it from being unbearable. the birds sing in the trees as the wind whistles through the leaves. merlin stares up at the brilliant blue sky and pure white clouds roll by, images of bunnies and birds and crowns and horses staring down at him. he wonders if avalon will be this peaceful, if he and arthur could lay out in a field for eternity, basking in the sun and laughing as they point out misshapen clouds that supposedly look like the other.

he plunges the sword into his chest, right through his heart, and falls back into the water. bubbles trail out of his mouth up towards the surface, blood spills from his wound and mixes with the water. he closes his eyes as he sinks further and further. he knows when he opens them, he’ll be with arthur once more. it’ll all be okay. he doesn’t feel his body hit the bottom before blackness fills his mind.

arthur awakens from his fitful slumber in a bed that is not his own. he squints at the room, or rather hut, around him and finds an old man hunched over a book in the corner. arthur tries to speak but all that comes out is a squeak of air, his throat too dry to speak. the man hears and whirls around to begin treating him once more, prattling on and on about how he found arthur in the woods outside his village donning shiny clothes which he discarded bc of the blood staining them yet he couldn’t find a wound. arthur’s hand reaches up to his side but there’s no stab wound there, not anymore, though he does sport the scar. he remembers how he got it, he remembers stumbling away from the battlefield, he remembers being found by merlin- merlin.

he asks the man about him but he seems confused and denies ever knowing someone by that name. arthur climbs out of the bed (the flash of golden eyes) and hastily pulls on his armor (“i’m a sorcerer. i have magic.”). he’s out the door before the old man can protest. he’s in a village he doesn’t recognize, they must not be anywhere near camelot (“i’m still the same person.”). he turns to the old man hobbling out of the hut and demands directs to camelot. the man stares at him oddly and scratches his ear before informing him that he’s never heard of a camelot before (“you’re my friend and i don’t want to lose you.”).

he instead asks for directions to the woods where he was found and sets off in that direction, the old man shuffling after him (“me, i was born to serve you, arthur.”). it doesn’t take long to reach where he was found. if the old man had carried him home it couldn’t’ve been much of a hike (“and i’m proud of that.”). he steps into a clearing where the man panted that he found him here (“and i wouldn’t change a thing.”). it’s no where near the lake where merlin held him as he took his last breath, it’s no where near camelot. the man didn’t even recognize the name of his kingdom (“it’s not why i do it.”).

arthur sits in the grass as he thinks on his next move and the man who watched over him sits next to him (“i’m not going to change now.”). he speaks lowly of a prophecy about a man from a time long forgotten sent on a journey, a quest, to retrieve what has been lost. he says how the prophecy led many to a sword lodged in stone (“i’m not going to lose you.”) but no one could pull it free. he points out arthur’s armor and calls it odd, he mentions camelot, a kingdom of which he’s never heard, and gestures around the clearing where he found the mystery man. he concludes that perhaps the prophecy spoke of him (“i can’t lose him.”).

arthur, with no other options, follows the man’s directions to a lake. not exactly lake avalon but close enough. theres a small island in the center that seems more like a hill. the sword, his sword, excalibur is buried in a stone covered in moss, misshaping it’s actual form. arthur wades across the water and climbs the hill. he wraps his hands around the hilt of excalibur and closes his eyes. he imagines merlin confident and reassuring expression as they and all his men stood in the woods around this damn sword in a different stone however long ago it was. he breathes in and out (“he’s my friend.”) and pulls.

excalibur comes free just as it did before. arthur watches the metal pull free and as it does, the moss on the stone falls away revealing its form. it looks like a collapsed figure, excalibur having been lodged in it’s chest, right where it’s heart would be. arthur squints at what looks like the head and feels a flash of familiarity. the stone slowly fades away from the hole where excalibur was all the way to the hill. as the stone fades, it leaves behind skin and clothes and hair and…merlin.

arthur drops excalibur and falls to his knees to hold up merlin’s limp form. he feels warm, as if he didn’t just spend however long with a sword in his chest as a stone. he’s not breathing. why isn’t he breathing? arthur grasps around, shifting his clothes out of the way to find the wound where excalibur had once been. the skin is stitching itself together with tiny golden threads. arthur looks back up at merlin’s lax face as the wound fully closes. he inhales sharply as his eyes fly open, glowing gold, and all around him it seemed the world finally inhaled after suffocating for millennia.

merlin exhales and golden sparks shoot from his lips to flurry around in the air. the grass under them grows longer and curls around both his and merlin’s body where they rest against the ground. the water around their island clears from the murky brown to a blindingly clear blue. the air is crisp and clean, the sun brighter and warmer, and one soul finally whole again.

[qcomicsy]

I have the controversial opinion that maybe, just maybe we stop wanting to go after people with pitchforks for getting characters wrong and not reading the comics inviting them to easy and accessible ways of and making our own content with comic accurate representation

people might feel less anxious about starting comics and misinformation won't spread as easily

[johnnystorms]

When Peter was seven, Mrs Kanowski wrote in his report card that he always has something to say. Uncle Ben had found it quite funny. Aunt May had elbowed him in the side and murmured something about it not being a compliment, a word Peter didn’t quite grasp until a year later, when Gwen Stacy socked him in the shoulder then said, “I like your socks.” (They were covered in crossed swords and skulls wearing pirate hats, much to Aunt May’s dismay. Harry thought they were cool, though, and so did Peter, kind of, and now so did Gwen. So there.) “Thanks,” Peter had said, and that had been that. Not his first friend, but one of them.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about that now.

They’re on the roof of the Baxter Building. The sun is setting, spilling red and pink and orange all over Johnny, over his golden hair, the planes of his face, the brightness of his grin. The grin in question: the remnants of laughter, left over from Peter telling him about the time Harry keyed his dad’s car in a fit of six-year-old pique and Peter had tried to take the blame, only for Norman to dismiss the attempt with a brisk you’d have chosen more sensible places to do it, which had made Johnny absolutely howl with laughter.

“Really, Pete,” he says, still grinning, “what kind of six year old gets told they’d commit vandalism sensibly?” He snorts, shaking his head, looking out over the city.

Mrs Kanowski was wrong, it seems. Peter is tongue-tied, watching Johnny’s eyes crinkle in the corners, the slope of his nose as he looks out over towards the Chrysler Building. It swells in him, the way Johnny looks right now, the way he feels, loose-limbed and relaxed and happy. Peter likes Johnny a lot of ways, but this is maybe his favourite, when it’s just the two of them, and Johnny has that smile that looks like it put the stars in the sky, instead of the one he flashes at people in corridors, at the press when they get in too close, at ex-girlfriends and maybe-boyfriends – everyone who wants a piece of him.

It’s a nice smile, don’t get him wrong. Peter is mostly immune to Johnny’s charms, but that one still makes his chest feel a little warmer. It’s just got nothing on Johnny when he’s like this, bright and open and beautiful.

“I wonder what you’d have been like if you’d known me back then,” Johnny says, still not looking at Peter. His voice has gone thoughtful, smile fading until all that’s left is a soft tilt to his lips. “What I’d have been like.” He’s quiet for a second, and then: “I’m a little jealous, you know.”

Peter can’t work the words out of his mouth. His tongue feels too thick. Still, there must be something questioning enough in his gaze when Johnny glances back at him that it gets conveyed, because Johnny blinks, then smiles ruefully.

“That they knew you back then – Harry and Gwen and even Mary Jane, though I know she was a little later. They all got to know you so early… It kinda feels like I was missing out.” The way he says kinda is like an inside joke, the type where you’re the only one in on it, where you’re laughing at yourself. Peter’s heart aches.

Johnny’s smile goes crooked as he looks back at Peter again. “You’re my first real friend, Peter. You know that, right?”

And, like, maybe. Maybe Peter knew that, logically, if he ever really thought about it, but he didn’t – he doesn’t – because Johnny is bright and handsome and funny, charming and charismatic and wildly popular even though he has enough personality defects to fill a dictionary. Everyone likes Johnny, even some of his exes, and the ones who don’t usually have a grudge to pick with his brother-in-law, or they think Johnny is just like any vapid, handsome, rich, famous type. And it’s not that he’s not, but he’s also so much more than that. Sometimes Johnny is so much that Peter doesn’t have words to contain it.

But that’s a lonely thing too.

So maybe Peter knew, on some level, that this is what he is to Johnny, this is the space he occupies. But he’s never really thought it consciously, never really framed it that way, and certainly never heard it out loud before.

He swallows. Hard.

Johnny just blinks again, then grins. It’s not that crooked one, small and quiet and delicate enough to make Peter wish he could fit it in his pocket. It’s a sudden blitz against the sky, against Peter’s fucking mental stability, because it is so gorgeous that it is utterly devastating. Peter is devastated and Johnny is beautiful. Status quo.

Mrs Kanowski was definitely wrong, Peter thinks, as he slides a little closer to Johnny, nestles up against him so that their thighs are pressed close and their shoulders are knocking together. Because when Johnny looks at him like that, he can’t think of a single thing to say.

[umbralsong]

I was expecting something more thematic regarding Wyll's transformation, especially since there are obvious Beauty and the Beast parallels that are just ripe for the taking.

I genuinely expected this character, a heroic monster hunter so in love with fairy tales and romance, to strengthen the narrative surrounding the Tadfools and their fear of death, metamorphosis, or further transformation. For him to bring a completely new thematic resonance to the Emperor's story. For him to embody the city on the verge of discarding their soul to Gortash, the artistocrats, the vampires, and the (maybe futile?) attempt to save the city once again.

Instead, he is simply punished for his good act, and in a way that isn't close to his vow to kill Karlach on his "one good eye."

I really don't know what they were going for with all of that. *Warlock voice* And her contract doesn't make any fucking sense, as pointed out [here].

That's why I personally discard it, but I'm curious about what all of you amazing Wyll fans would have done if Larian gave a shit about him. What would you have done?

[shadyvoidhologram]

I was laying in bed overthinking, as you do, and started to go on a depressive doom spiral. And then, to distract myself I started thinking about the things I like.

[Spoilers and some gross details incoming, you know what Mouthwashing is about]

So, eventually I started thinking about Curly being in a similar headspace as I was, laying down, incapable of doing anything, constantly in pain and hearing time and time again how quickly things are going to shit and that it's all your fault.

Him replaying his mistakes over and over on his head, imagining the many ways things could've gone a different way if only he had done something instead of ignoring the issues to "keep the peace".

Remembering every interaction that led to the accident, Anya's confession, his friends poorly disguised resentment, him ignoring and filtering details of his crew's mental state, her taking the gun, the notice, Jimmy.

Him being a coward and disguising his hate of confrontation with the guise of being a good friend.

And then comming back to reality, to is burning flesh. To the blood, shit and bile staining the bandages, robe and bed, to watching and hearing his friends suffer and die, unable to do anything.

When the kid dies, in the midst of all the emotional chaos, he feels some sick sense of relief knowing that probably Swansea will deal with both of them quickly and it'll be over at last.

Then Jimmy finds the gun.

And he can't help but laugh. He remembers the conversation they had and he cackles bitterly because not even in death can her wishes be respected. She trusted him and he failed her even after she was gone.

Soon enough it's just the two of them left.

Through muffled ears he hears Jimmy rambling, talking to himself, asking questions and answering right after, he sees him moving the bodies around. When Jimmy carries him from the infirmary to the common room table he's still as stone, not a sound leaves his mouth, he doesn't look at the bodies thrown on the chairs around the table, he doesn't even breathe.

But all of Jimmy's attention, hatred, idolatry, and envy are on him only. Eyes glossy, cut pieces of a one sided conversation and a tentative smile on his lips when he reaches for the slightly dented knife.

He screams until his lungs close and his throat burns. When he's fed parts of himself he cries and throws up until he is forced to swallow and keep it down.

He's dehidrated, half delirious from the blood loss and emotionally checked out when Jimmy picks him up and tells him they can still fix this, he knows what to do. That he's going home.

Sure, he thinks, he wants to go home.

When he's placed on the cryopod he just stares at Jimmy talk to himself at him some more, about being heroes and everything being all right now. Then he steps out of sight.

It's on the silence after the loud bang when his brain starts working again, he's completely and utterly alone on a crashed ship of a company that's closing it's doors, with a now depleted shipment that wasn't even important enough to guarantee a search party, and no way of fending for himself in the case of 20 years passing and no one coming, even less if the power gave out before that.

As the cryopod finally starts to cool, the few tears he has left fall from his remaining eye.

He hopes he doesn't wake up to see what happens next.

..ok see y'all when I wake up-

[rowanisawriter]

exit wounds

hades / thanzag / post divorce AU / ch1 of 3

Years and years after Zagreus’s successful escape to the surface, an untimely and unexpected death brings him right back down to the underworld, and shatters Thanatos’s fragile truce with himself.

.

Thanatos’s anger ripples through his body, like a pebble tossed into a pond. “That’s the thing about you. You’re always leaving.”

The sound of Zagreus’s knuckles cracking as he clenches his fists is conspicuous in the hush quiet of the fountain room. “You know why I have to leave.”

“No, I don’t.” Thanatos jumps to his feet. A restlessness fills him suddenly, a need to pace. He stays still, standing before Zagreus, but his hands twitch for want of movement, another strange influence, another foreign need. Everything is different around Zagreus, always. “I don’t know why you need to leave. You will always come back here, you’re tied to this place and tied to the rest of us even though you don’t want to be. And still you put me through this every time. I feel all your deaths. It’s like a knife in my chest.”

He realizes he’s raising his voice and snaps his mouth shut with an audible click. The room feels smaller suddenly. He wants to leave but Zagreus’s eyes on him seem to pin him down.

“You do know why I’m leaving,” Zagreus says, his voice low and even. For once, he’s the calm one and Thanatos is hanging onto his careful composure by a thin and fraying thread. “My father is an Olympian. So was my mother. Whatever it is that makes the underworld your home, that Chthonic ichor inside you, I don’t have any of that.”

“That’s not it,” Thanatos says. “Not all of it, at least. You’re right that your Olympian blood is propelling you forward. That same pride, that same desire they have for more. You always want more. More than the underworld.” His mouth curves around the words, “more than me,” but he swallows it back, chokes it down.

[ganondoodle]

Not gonna lie, the "It looks like a Divine Circle but is actually just hundreds of years of superstition & propaganda"-Concept is the coolest fucking thing I didn't know I needed until ten minutes ago. It's a super cool inversion of the classic trope, opens up a million possibilities for stories and arcs and on top of that, in game, you would obviously not know about it form the beginning but slowly have to collect clues and hints that things are not quite as everyone tells you.

So yeah, very cool concept!

Not directly related, but it's probably no surprise that my favorite Ganondorf line is the "I coveted that Wind"-line from the finale of Wind Waker. He doesn't even go into detail, cause he doesn't have to, this line alone instantly humanizes him. Like, its the end of the game, we are about to fight him, there is no way this will not end in a fight, and yet, at that point, that line, just goes so fucking hard. Because you instantly know what he's talking about, that he simply wanted a future for his people, which, you know, is a very human thing to do. It wont stop us from fighting him here and now, way too much has happened for that, but it reminds us, the audience, that he has motives and reasons and thoughts and is an actual character.

So yeah, in case it's not obvious yet, I too despise the extremely flat "I'm evil because evil, waaaaaaaaagh!" Ganondorf from TOTK. Why even include him if you cant be arsed to actually write him?

Anyways, last thing, I'll have to somewhat disagree on the Gameplay vs Story thing, at least partially because I work in the field and have had experiences with this problem myself. Not saying its impossible to have both, but its a lot more difficult than one would expect.

Towards your point, yes a good story can pull people through a game, but so can strong gameplay. Take the Doom games, I dont really care about their story, but the gameplay is great. On the other hand, the gameplay of the average Telltale game would be incredibly boring without the story behind it. There are hybrids, but even they tend to lean one way or the other: The Assassins Creed or Uncharted Series have solid and fun gameplay, but would probably get repetitive or boring if we didn't have strong characters and stories that keep us interested. And all of that is before you consider that there are different player types that gravitate to one or the other and it gets even more complicated. (There's more to this but I my thoughts on the topic could easily be a full bachelors Thesis, so I'll stop here.)

I should add that I dont think that the gameplay over story (or vice versa) argument can or should be used to defend games or design choices. Yes, Nintendo does prefer to focus on Gameplay over Story. Does that mean we shouldn't expect a good story, or are not allowed to criticize a bad one in their games? Hell no! (And if my previous ask sounded like I was doing that, I apologize, that was NOT what I meant to say! I'll happily critique all of TOTKs flaws, both in gameplay & story, otherwise how can we learn from it?)

This argument can be used to understand and analyze or interpret design decisions but it shouldn't ever be used to defend them. Just like the "just for kids" argument, by using such arguments, the person in question basically admits that they are aware of the weaknesses and faults in their story/game/whatever but didn't fix or improve them. So yeah, I do agree with you on that front 100%, hiding behind such arguments is a problem.

Anyway, sorry for leaving another wall of text in your inbox, hope you're having a nice day!

thank you! that 'cycle' concept is also what destiny (zelda comic) is based on, since it takes place before skyward sword you get to see the set up for it, and, in this story, the gods have been trying to achieve it countless times, throughout the story of it its supposed to slowly be revealed- like demise already knowing some parts since hes yet another 'failed' version of that plan (im reusing that concept for the totk rewrite as well bc i am very original wahoo)

oh you work in that field! thats cool!! yeah my opinion on this sort of thing is very much a thing i formed bc i play games, though i still dream of gamedev, i guess i understood your mention of it a little too much into the dismissive argument way (though not as an attack) and its been repeated so so many times i cant help but get a little >_> at it; the point i was trying to make was more like ... they need to find a balance with it, like you can make it all about gameplay, but then dont pretend you have the most epicest story that ever storied, maybe even do it less or more subtle, like the fromsoft game i feel like are very well balanced in that regard, bc their lore and story is very neat and intertwined, but you have to look and think to get it, and the gameplay is strong on its own so much so that it kinda ends up being both soemthing for people that dont care about lore and those that do, more than about the gameplay

zelda feels like it doesnt quite know what to do (even moreso modern zelda), bc they prioritize the gameplay but then still put in a story that they want understood .. so its like, babiefied? like there is a "simple" story and its few points are repeated into your face over and over and over so the people that dont care to read into soemthing GET IT but also annoy them, bc they dont care anyway, and the people who care about lore/story above gameplay are bored bc the narrative isnt engaging enough and they dont care as much about the gameplay

especially so with totk i think, its so weird, botw wasnt like that imo, it wasnt overly complicated either but at least it left you wondering, and let you think, the more you thought about the more interesting it was (at least to me) totk feels like the opposite, it doesnt want you to think, bc the more you think about it the more it falls apart and makes less sense

like theres types of games that focus HARD on one or the other (like slay the princess for example, its like an interactive audio book, there isnt much gameplay but it goes hard on narrative), so obviously the balance of gameplay and story isnt applicable to every game, but for zelda in particular they say they are one but then still want the other part just as much? like the lore in skyward sword isnt great, the characters are strong though, the gameplay isnt that engaging (to me, since that needs to be said) i got through it mostly just bc i wanted to see what comes next and liked the characters, in botw the freedom and world and gameplay were like nothign i ever experienced, exploring was addictive and the story took a bit of a backseat, but it was fitting for the game and lend itself so well to theorize, in totk they .. idk what the focus was, the .. glue? the toys to glue together? nothing fits together there and each part works against another instead of together, somehow, its so weird to me

the thing is, if you do gameplay over story, you need to roll with it? if thats what it is then let the story take a backseat, make it subtle and in the background or vague, dont stuff the game full of unskippable cutscenes where a character you dont care about explains you a thing you already figured out through the gameplay; like the zelda dragon point, let the design of the dragon and its music, what its carrying speak for itself, the way the deku tree is weirded out by the sword moving, maybe a quick subtle voice line once you get the sword fading away like the last parts of her soul being whispered away- but dont mention it in one of the first cutscenes, fail to bury it in 'thats illegal though and irreversible so nono dont you do it' (why mention it then huh) allude to it multiple times, and then just straight up show it (i get people like the scene but man, it would have been way cooler to figure it out yourself)

same goes for the fake zelda thing, the weird way she said the bloodmoon text already alluded to it, have her show up here and there but vanish before you (no "omg thats zelda omg what is she dooooing") , or go even harder and make her an NPC standing around the world interacting with you all nromally but animals react weirldy to her- make the midfight against her (maybe even that she isnt talking so you are unsure if its actually her but controlled by sth else, or talk all normally while literally going for your throat) and then have her dissolve into goop and woa the bloodmoon thing is without her now the zelda you have been talking to has been fake the whole time, its creepy!! leave out the stupid cutscenes of showing it multiple times!! stop monologing at me!!

ppl that dont care about it can go and do a fight and i can think about it! everyone wins yahoo!

(actually ... if you leave out all the cutscenes in totk i feel like it improves the game by alot ...)

(what my point in the previous thing was in the end that you can repeat the same old trope only so many times without changing anything before it gets boring as hell, like what you said here, and the series seems to really be setting itself on fire bc it just wants to do the trope of old so badly and at some point its gonna drag down even the best of gameplays like gameplay over story means (to me) gameplay is prioritized so whatever narrative there is is in the background, subtle and not overtly in your face with big cutscenes etc- but what i feel like its often supposed to mean is "its fine if theres a shitty story that makes no sense pasted on top bc they prioritize gameplay so stop complaining" like to me what it should mean is more gameplay, less story, a measure of quantity not of quality, but what i feel like it often means is better gameplay, bad story, a measure of quality, not quantity )

maybe my problem lies elsewhere and im just projecting it on gameplay > story, that could very much be the case, i could have a fundamental missunderstanding about this here, im still just a guy with opinions in the end and got no knowledge about anything other than i play games sometimes and these are the things i like and dislike and would do differently *puts my head in my hands*

idk if im making sense, im usually not very good at explaining how i feel or think :/ (or i THINK im bad at it, autism be damned)

(sorry this got so long again ......................)

[triglycercule]

ok so there's murder time trio where theyre best buddies and get along and sometimes even having more than just platonic interactions. and then there's also the murder time trio where they genuinely just don't like each other and avoid each other and do NOT get along and to me there's just a VERY clear timeline of events that could connect these two group dynamics. like these 2 could coexist,,,,,,

nightmare's fresh outta his little corruption sequence and he needs his henchmen. goes out and gathers the obvious three killer horror and dust (does it really matter how he got them??? kidnapping or not the trio will warm up to him). its his first time having to deal with mentally unstable grown up mortal men and he really has no idea how to manage the team so he lets them have some slack. spoils em a bit yk yk stops fights allows them to hang out allows em to screw around the castle even COMFORTS them,,,, shocking i know (a slightly nice nightmare interpretation from triglycercule? UNFATHOMABLE!!!!)

this killer's fresh outta something new so he's still kinda curious and nosy. he hasnt seen the multiverse and especially not interacted with nightmare/horrordust so he's kinda more outgoing and friendly (ish. to get to know better everyone and satisfy the curiosity of seeing what reactions and feelings these fellas could give him.) bc killer's not that much of a prick and horror and dust would naturally SLIGHTLY get along (and if in the right environment be good buddies. which is nm's lenience and killer's not shittiness) the mtt actually get along pretty well and are good buds!! like the first group dynamic i mentioned where the bad sanses are just kinda like a friend group except they have some weird work relations

and then a fight breaks out and nightmare kills either dust or horror (what about??? anything!) likely dust first because he's more likely to be wary of nm (if kidnapped) and also because he's just kinda more actively righteous compared to horror (who likely wouldn't do much against nm) or killer (does not give a shit.) dust dies, horror likely dies defending dust and that just leaves the og killer and nightmare

nightmare is like "oh shit i just killed my workers". he'll take like a week to ponder what he did and then completely move on (because hes an ass like that.) nightmare gets another horror and dust to replace the ones he killed. and killer is just like wtf how do i deal with this. the guys i were kinda friends were are dead but their copies are right here. like he knew copies existed in the utmv but he didn't think nightmare was so willing to replace them so fast???

this killer's still adapting to the multiverse and stuff (it probably hasn't even been a year since he got snatched up!!!) and yeah hes aware that copies exist and he could get replaced by one but he didn't think that it would LITERALLY HAPPEN RIGHT BEFORE HIS EYES. so he decides to stick more around nm and avoid getting replaced like the og dust and horror because it really just hammers in the point that he's kinda useless if he speaks out like those 2. hes avoidant of the new replacements as well bc hes still new to this experience and is getting used to the whole implications of two guys that were once him and he was friends with died and got replaced by basically the same person

but they still have to work together for obvious reasons. and even if killer's avoiding horror and dust they probably aren't avoiding each other and probably are like wary friends/acquaintances. and naturally killer HAS to become okay worker buddy pals with them because hes stuck living with them. nightmare's a lot stricter and cold to avoid something like dust's rebellion against him happening again. mtt are wary of each other (mostly towards killer. horrordust are pals and killer's kinda growing more apathetic to the duo because he's already experienced a lot of the stuff before with the og two that died.) but theyre still "friends" you could say

and then perchance maybe horror and dust decide to let killer in on a lil secret theyve been cooking up. theyre planning to escape (kidnapped DUH. and nm isn't as nice as he was to og horrordust to warrent them to wanna stay) and even though they don't really trust killer theyre still letting him in on the plan and offer for him to come with them because they lowkey feel bad for him and he's really not all that bad under all the bullshit

but killer saw what happened to the og dust and horror so he says no. and the night that the duo are planning to escape he just has this overwhelming sense of dread. the next morning he wakes up to nightmare standing over his bed with a cold glare telling him of horror and dust's attempted escape and death and killer just kinda. sighs. his dread was right (he was lowkey hoping that they could escape so they didn't die like the original 2)

and then the cycle repeats. previous dust or horror or both die to nightmare or some random outside force or escape (because it has to happen eventually right??) and the pair keep getting replaced. killer keeps witnessing their deaths and replacements and at this point he's just so used to it that he doesn't even TRY to interact with the new horrors and dusts. theyre not even like real people that are getting killed and replaced like robots to him anymore they're just distant coworkers that get fired and then a new one comes to take up the position

each new dust or horror is icked out by nightmare and killer. nightmare is incredibly cold and intimidating and dictatorial and just sucks in general. and killer gives them this distant look. like he knows something they dont. he's already proven to them that he knows that they should obey nightmare and how to deal with the king and they know he's been here longer than them but even when he's not with nightmare or not talking about him they get the blank stare

sometimes when a nicer replacement of horror decides to do something nice for killer like make him a meal he just gives him that look and declines (there's already been countless different horrors that tried doing nice stuff for him. it's not new and nice in his eyes anymore.) maybe when a dust replacement gets irked by killer's apathy and decides to try and say something that'll bother him or snoop through his personal stuff killer will just walk away or kick him out of his room with that creepy ass blank stare again (it's not the first time a dust has tried to rile him up. it's not new or interesting and just predictable)

killer just doesn't CARE about the new horrors and dusts. they're all pretty much the same two guy except maybe a bit nicer or meaner or quieter or even taller or something?? all he really cares about is is serving nightmares atp, no other outside relationships. and ngl he doesn't even care that much about nightmare either. he's already figured out his thinking he's already figured out all of his likes and dislikes and what not to do to piss him off. the only reason he's still dealing with him is because he doesn't have anything else better to do and he doesn't wanna be useless to the one guy that he's served all this time

he's just kinda stuck in an empty boring limbo that killer's only maintaining due to a lack of motivation and any other priorities. and personally i just think this bad sans dynamic is lowkey tragic because like killer keeps witnessing all these guys that he used to be friends or enemies or rivals or whatever with and they just keep dying or leaving him behind. not one ever stays for THAT long (because no wayyyy a dust or horror would take being under a cruel nightmare well) and it's given him this idea that none of these people matter (aside from the important one which is nm) because they're just gonna leave me and the connections ill have formed with them will be for nothing so why even try being vulnerable and friendly and interacting with these cheap copies of the guys i USED to be friends with

[wikiangela]

inspiration saturday/seven sentence sunday

tagged by @daffi-990 @exhuastedpigeon @disasterbuckdiaz @buckaroosheart @hippolotamus (tagging y'all back for seven sentence sunday <33)

still trying to get back to writing and currently jumping between wips again lol - and I made a lil moodboard for the cheating fic + title reveal haha - for once I have a title waaaay before I'm gonna finish the fic - it's the line that inspired this whole fic but a bit edited, from mgk's 'loco' (the og line is 'got a man at home but she loves the way I taste')

prev snippet

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and a lil snippet:

“Uh, yeah, I guess it was.” Buck finally responds, quickly getting out of bed and taking his pillow with him and covering himself. He feels too exposed like that, standing in front of Eddie, but he needs to put some distance between them. “It was- it was a-” his voice shakes, he feels like his body is physically trying to stop him from saying these words, “a drunken mistake. It doesn’t- it won’t change anything, right?” he finally looks at Eddie, who’s staring at him with wide, sad eyes, and Buck has no time or energy to read into it right now. “It doesn’t have to be weird.” he sounds pleading, begging, just needing Eddie to say that they can get back to normal and pretend it never happened. 

“No, of course.” Eddie’s voice sounds hoarse, and he clears his throat, a faint smile on his face. “We were drunk, it was- it was nothing. Let’s just forget anything happened.” Eddie’s words sting. Buck was hoping for them, but they still hurt, and he immediately wants him to take it back, he wants to backtrack on what he said earlier, he wants to- he really needs to get a fucking grip and sort out his feelings.

no pressure tags (it's already sunday here so tagging y'all for seven sentence sunday): @elvensorceress @gaydiaz @diazass @thebravebitch @silentxxsoul @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @arthursdent @diazblunt @911onabc @spagheddiediaz @housewifebuck @gayhoediaz @rogerzsteven @watchyourbuck @monsterrae1 @honestlydarkprincess @underwater-ninja-13 @eowon @weewootruck @loserdiaz @evanbegins @steadfastsaturnsrings @ladydorian05 @malewifediaz @pirrusstuff @theotherbuckley @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @wildlife4life @fortheloveofbuddie @nmcggg @diazpatcher @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @thewolvesof1998 @lover-of-mine @jamespearce9-1-1 @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks

[palabraasinnecesarias]

maybe someday...

ao3 | ff.net

ship: ranma/akane words: 2,171

Maybe someday it’ll be more than touching hands without the worry of being shoved against one another by their binding families.  

Akane fanned herself as best as she could, trying to outbeat the mild heat thanks to the air conditioning having a minor malfunction. It’ll be up and running in a few hours, but until then, the Tendo household sprawled about the family room and along the engawa while Kasumi and Auntie Saotome prepped cooling snacks.  

The weather wasn’t horrendous by any means, in fact the breeze clanking the wind chimes offered a nice ambiance, and if it wasn’t for daytime TV entertainment, she probably would have joined Nabiki as she enjoyed her magazines next to her father and Uncle Saotome while they played another round of shogi. But instead, the young girl watched whatever was playing. And when it cut to commercials, she succeeded in not glancing at Ranma who had decided to join her – even as she knew that he was probably looking at her.  

She had caught him a few times now and then, and he’d look away almost instantly, with a hint of blushing cheeks that made her smile just as excitedly. She hadn’t actually paid attention as to how it started to happen, but it had become their thing to hide behind closed doors and share an intimate stare or reach towards each other to hold hands for just a moment. But as soon as someone walked through it, they’d unlatch and look away, pretending like nothing happened and nothing ever would. 

That evening hadn’t been any different. When they believed that no one was paying attention to them, Ranma’s hand had accidentally pressed against hers, and he didn’t look at her directly, but she knew he was probably color matching with a beet. And Akane tried not to react as she wrapped her pinky around his, risking one glance at him through the corner of her eye with a timid smile.  

His hands had always been bigger than hers, and could probably crush hers without much effort, but he was so gentle in the way he softly squeezed back. She knew he could be awkward about touching, and it always elated her beyond words when he willingly initiated the first move.  

“Freshly squeezed lemonade, everyone!” Kasumi chirped, and that was enough to pull them out of their trance as Akane quickly released her pinky’s hold around his as she jumped to her feet and merrily made her towards her older sister to help distribute the drinks. All Ranma could do was exasperate a sigh as he let himself lay on the wooden floors.  

Maybe someday it’ll be more than touching hands without the worry of being shoved against one another by their binding families.  

Ranma had gotten so much better about waking up earlier in the mornings to make it in time for school, when he wanted to, of course, and definitely not because of Akane knocking at his door every two minutes.  

Some time ago, they had needed to reroute after some unexpected shenanigans landed them a few blocks further from their school, coming across a newly installed vending machine stocked with canned beverages.  

Occasionally, the duo had begun detouring a couple left and right turns to indulge themselves in a can, finding that they shared a preference towards the canned coffee over the rest; it wasn’t overly sweet, and tasted like coffee although not bitter by any means. They would slip some spare change into the vending machine to enjoy a treat on their way to school.  

“C’mon Ranma,” Akane rushed as she was already walking out the door while still trying to adjust her foot into her shoe, having a craving for the canned coffee that morning. Ranma yawned, mildly annoyed that he couldn’t quite enjoy his breakfast because she wanted to make sure they had enough time to get to the vending machine. Still, he followed suit, bidding his goodbye for that day as he closed the door behind them.  

To their dismay, the vending machine hadn’t been fully restocked, and offered a small variant that morning. Ranma didn’t get a drink, insisting he just wasn’t wanting anything as they made their way towards the school. Still, Akane took a sip before offering him a taste. Maybe he didn’t want a whole can, and she didn’t mind sharing by any means.  

“I know what it tastes like, ‘Kane,” Ranma scoffed, pushing her offer away, edging her to stick her tongue and blow a raspberry at him.  

“Geez, just trying to be nice, in case you did want some.” He mocked a face, and Akane couldn’t help but muffle a laugh, feeling like such a kid at how goofy he seemed for just a moment. “I won’t share with you ever again,” she groaned, pretending not to care that he had rejected even just a sip. She took another drink, and mid-gulp she could feel the can getting taken away from her mouth.  

Ranma was now drinking, his Adam's apple bobbing twice before returning the now-half-empty can, utterly confused as she took her drink back. “It’s good,” he said, and she scoffed. She offered him a taste, and he says ‘no’; she takes it back, and suddenly he wants the whole drink.  

“Honestly, Ranma,” Akane rolled her eyes, narrowing her eyebrows at him, seemingly bitter, “if you want to kiss me, you just have to ask.” Of course, she was completely kidding, but according to Yuka and Sayuri, sharing a drink could be considered a form of indirect kissing. She believed the concept of indirect kissing to be a cute way of communicating in public without outwardly displaying it, but the real deal tugged at her more than sharing a straw and calling it kissing. She and Ranma hadn’t kissed – officially, that is – considering they hadn’t done more than hold hands under tables and steal glances at one another.  

“Wh-what? Kiss you?” His stuttering jumble of words wasn’t much of a defense against her accusation, especially when his now blushing face almost camouflaged with his top, and she did laugh out loud this time. The comment had slipped out of her mouth mindlessly if she were being honest, but it enlightened her to see him in such a flustered state, even if it was short-lived as he grumbled and began walking away.  

“Are ya’ saying you don’t want to kiss me?” She teased, walking faster to match his step until bumping her shoulder against his arm. She was grinning from ear to ear, like a Chesire cat, quite enjoying the deflating of his usual substantial ego.  

“’Course I do.” He retaliated, his words too fast for his brain to catch up, and all Akane could do was smile sheepishly as her eyebrows scrunched amused by his answer. What was she supposed to say to that?  

“Well,” she cleared her throat silently, smiling softer this time, unable to stop the heat from rising against her cheeks at the thought that, nevertheless, they had indirectly kissed, “good.” He was looking at her now, not as flustered but just as embarrassed by what he had candidly admitted, and she couldn’t help but take a sip before looking away. 

Maybe someday she’ll get the courage to be the one to actually kiss him without the worry that the misfortunate of a bicycle’s front wheel struck at the back of his head for the umpteen time that week.

When Akane walked into the dojo she hadn’t been expecting to see Ranma self-training, although it seemed he was working out more than anything else. She had caught the pigtail wearing martial artist on the last set of his pushups, quietly awaiting by the door, both knowing that he had detected her the moment she walked in.  

Within a minute Ranma sat up, reaching for his small towel to wipe the running sweat from his forehead and temples. He was flushed, his hair sticking at the sides of his face and mild sweat spots about his tank top. “Hey, ‘Kane,” he greeted, feeling her knees wobble monetarily as she waved at him like some lovesick junior high student.  

“Working hard, or hardly working?” She winced at the way she was trying her best to remain composed, as if not caring that she thought him quite cute at the way he smiled at her.  

“Hard to say,” he chuckled, now sitting by crossing his legs as Akane walked toward his space, taking a seat next to him before beginning some floor stretches. “It ain’t like I gotta’ work much to be good at what I do.”  

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, groaning a sigh although she was grinning like some fool, “Well, all you were doing were pushups.”  

“I do more than simple pushups!” Ranma scoffed, offended, more than ready to debate against her had he needed to. “I could even do some with you on ma’ back!”  

“As if!” Although, she believed him wholeheartedly; mainly because she had been prime witness to the capabilities of his brute strength. She hadn’t known why she had been wanting to pick a fight, but the childlike pout he aimed at her ruffled her up and she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Prove it.”  

“What?”  

“Do a set of pushups with me on your back.” She didn’t know why she continued talking, but there was now some sort of gleam in his eye that told her he was accepting her challenge. She adjusted the strap that held her gi from being too loose, and maybe because she could feel herself getting nervous. This was silly, actually. She opened her mouth to tell him just that, but although he had just finished doing pushups, Ranma readjusted himself in position.  

“Okay, hop on, tomboy.”  

“Ranma, I’m not getting on your back,” she chuckled nervously, watching him continue to wait for her.  

“C’mon, ‘Kane,” he insisted, a mischievous smirk overtaking his face, and she couldn’t help but shiver at his determined demeanor.  

“I was joking, you dope.”  

It took some convincing, but evidently the young boy had managed to get Akane to agree. And he was in position, his body planked as he waited for the young girl to get atop of him. And with a heavy sigh, pushing strands of short hair behind her ears, Akane softly placed her behind on his back.  

“I know you’re not putting your whole weight on me, idiot, don’t be scared.” She was, in fact, trying her best to not rest her entire weight on him, as he claimed.  

“You better not nag me about it later, okay?” She readjusted herself, deciding that lying on him rather than sitting was probably a better idea. And so, Akane pressed her chest against his back as she latched her hold against his shoulders, wincing when hearing him mildly groan. Although, before she could get off, Ranma began the exercise.  

He wasn’t going fast by any means, but he also wasn’t hesitating, and his performance was immaculate, as it always tended to be. She shouldn’t be blushing as much as she was, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the heat that his body emitted onto hers. His pace was steady, and if she hadn’t been so self-conscious, she probably could have taken a nap on him, like some cat. She chuckled mindlessly at that.  

“What’s so,” Ranma groaned inwardly, “funny?”  

Akane leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his sweaty temple, “Nothing,” she promised.  

“I could go faster, ya’ know.”  

“I never said you couldn’t.”  

But he was already speeding up his pushups, and Akane had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck. “You idiot,” she yelped, bouncing off him and onto the floor before he could reach another set. He gasped inwardly, turning to face her but she was laughing, softly and low at first and then loudly, outwardly with her brown eyes squinting at him and the corners of her mouth pushing her cheeks so high they were rounder than usual. And he chuckled along, ignoring the way she sat up and bopped his head as she called him an ‘idiot’ again.  

When the laughter died off, they continued sitting on the dojo floor, not remembering when Akane had reached for his hand to hold. She opened his palm and sprawled her own palm against his for a moment, dragging her fingertips about his skin for a minute before intertwining her fingers in between his, lost in thought. His hands were long, rough, but they were so comfortable to hold.  

“’Kane,” Ranma called, and she hummed a response as her drowsy eyes blinked up at him, waiting for him to continue talking, “I’m thinking about going to the market for some snacks,” he told her, very aware of his hand still being possessed by Akane’s, “wanna’ come with?”  

“Sure,” she smiled with a nod at her head.  “Kasumi wants me to grab some items for tomorrow’s breakfast.”  

Maybe someday their walk to the market would be more than just grabbing some errands, but until then she’d relish on small moments as such.