#went amnesia route

[sl33py-g4m3r]

OCs from SMT IV that I accidentally created; or 2 but I’m only working on 1 currently I think. Fleshing him out more~~

Is what the larp is, lol. Accidental creation of characters.

Don’t have names for them yet tho.

One is someone from the monastery who’s somehow got access to this site and posts occasionally.

The other is a prentice samurai who completed a mission and unfortunately is now in the infirmary unconscious; with their soul somehow being isekai’d to our world somehow.

Whether he’s just a ghost or can interact with things physically around him is unknown at this time. How it happened is also unknown. Hopefully his soul returns to Mikado once more ~~

Rip new recruit. Shall he meet his end henceforth?

Still with all his equipment, gauntlet, and everything, except his memories of his fellows or what a samurai even is. Hadn’t determined whether he can still use the gauntlet to summon demons in our world or use any magic, or it’s simply cosmetic as he was wearing them in naraku and when he collapsed… remembers not of demons or magic…

Appears if at all, as a transparent figure of himself. Unsure to him if anyone can even see him or what happened. Finds interest in all the ‘magic’ he gets to witness in our time. Or relics as he would’ve known in Mikado.

Hopes to remember who he is, what the gauntlet is for and can do, and where he came from. In hopes that he can eventually get back to help his fellow samurai in Mikado. If he remembers that is.

Now he just has the vague feeling he’s missing and lost something deeply important; but knows not what nor whom. And is saddened by it~~

Thought it was a cool idea but now it sounds really stupid ~~~ as there’s nothing there that could possibly just do that to ones soul while leaving the body unconscious and not actively dying…. But suspension of disbelief I guess… magic doesn’t need to make sense in our world I suppose ~~~

Calling my own ideas and fantasies dumb… unbelievable… it’s supposed to be fun even if it seems stupid ~~~

Wanted to larp for fun but accidentally created characters instead….

For once creative post instead of an ‘I’m anxious darn you anxiety stop ruining my fun’ posts. A creative positive post??? Unbelievable ~~!!! lol.

Hope this is my own thought and I didn’t accidentally steal this from somewhere else cause I’m always afraid I had. Cause there’s an occult saying: “there is nothing new under the sun” so I might’ve picked it up somewhere but maybe I’m just overthinking my own creativity here…

How tf would a 1400’s society keep someone in a coma alive in the infirmary? Of course demons are a thing so…. Who knows…: are his fellows worried sick or too busy on missions to care that he’s vanished from this world? Is thee one that has a crush on him and fails to do missions in the hopes he wakes? Or does Hope make him do missions regardless?

Edit: fixed ‘for motions’ to ‘on missions’ as that’s what I intended to type. Stupid typo

[duoduotian]

think i'm officially done w/ caramia's routes, time to start kyrie's route on my next off

[spectruminterests]

When you're both you get a double whammy

[kawareo]

Thank you lovely people for giving me a chance to ramble more about something (this is genuine, i mean no shade)

I find it really cool how every character has a parallel with Durge! In general every single romance pairing has reasons for why i think "yeah i could see them being good together", but I love those for Durge especially since I think about Durges way too much

Gale. Prodigy, Chosen of a God(ess) with a relationship that went far past god/Chosen, with him and Mystra being 'lovers' and Durge and Bhaal being 'family'. They were also both groomed to a degree to fulfill a role and have since fallen from grace of their gods.

Lae'zel. Raised in what is essentially a cult, having her entire world fall apart when she learns the truth about Vlaakith and Orpheus (while Durge's world falls apart when they learn about who they are in act 3). Cult has harsh and merciless punishments for those that disappoint, with death and beatings for githyanki and... Well. You know what, for Durge (looking at you, deleted bad ending).

Shadowheart. Having an equivalent of an electric collar on you that her God(ess) can punish her with (for Durge, that punishment isnt so immediate but Bhaal can literally stop their heart if he wants to). Amnesia. Having to choose between leading your cult or leaving everything you thought you knew and being an outcast. Depending on what you do with Shart, they also both kill their parents.

Karlach. Having your body changed without your consent, in drastic ways that you have no control over; the engine for Karlach, lobotomy + Slayer form for Durge (slayer in a more minor way but i will say that even in evil route you dont get a say whether or not you transform the first time). They both hurt people that get close to then without meaning to. They both have someone more powerful who sees them as property. Also, ties to Gortash.

Wyll. Daddy issues! And being rejected and outcast by your Father, wanting to prove yourself that you're still worthy. They were also both given shitty fucking names by their dads. They both at some point chose between power at the cost of freedom and freedom at the cost of literally everything; Wyll when he made a deal with Mizora, Durge at multiple points through the game when it comes to Bhaal. They both struggle with being tied to an evil, manipulative being that wants them isolated and weak and alone. Similar with Karlach, unwilling body modification, but specifically one that turns you into a 'monster'.

Astarion. 'Father'. 'Siblings' that you are in constant and brutal competition with, for momentary approval of your Creator who will never have enough of anything short but the world. Creator who's end goal very much includes you dying for him. Having no bodily autonomy as your Creator can literally violate your mind whenever. Sexual abuse. Struggling with bloodthirst! Your existence itself is violent, you can't live without hurting someone! (Bloodthirst for Ass, Urges for Durge)

Halsin. (Potential) guilt for something you have done, being pushed in a leadership position (Halsin at the grove, Durge with companions) that you may or may not be unsuited for. Being so, so alone, without anyone to care for your feelings. They both also have sides of them that they sometimes can't control, with the Bear and Urges, or more literally, the Slayer.

Minthara. A proud and efficent warrior that got one upped by a person they underestimated. Ties to Orin. Living as someone with the highest social status in a brutal, cruel society. Fanatic worship of an objectively evil god(ess) and then the betrayal that follows, waking up from quite literal brainwashing, seeing how your God(ess) turns against you.

And I could go on! Theyre all so good and interesting and depending on what path you decide to take, there is always something that Durge can relate to on with any companion! I tried to avoid repeating points or talking about my Durge specifically by just talking about what is set in canon for them, and there is still! So! Much!

[prime-adeptus]

Of Ghosts and Smoke Signals

Who was he before he became the Colonel? What was the death and resurrection he dreamt of so often? The voice he heard in flashbacks—was it yours? (Or: the one where two lost souls find each other again.)

PAIRING.⠀Xia Yizhou | Caleb x Reader

CONTENT.⠀NSFW | female reader | (referenced) spoilers for Caleb’s route and card stories + Winter Soldier AU | slight yandere Caleb | amnesia, assassins, blood and violence, brainwashing, childhood friends, character death (not Caleb anymore), corruption, grief, hidden cameras, mentions of torture, reunions, romance, stalking (it's his job!!!). angst with a happy ending. | smut tags: cunnilingus, emotional sex, implied loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex | ~7,5k words

A/N.⠀hey guys so since I'm already being cooked, boiled, braised, fried, steamed, grilled, and everything in between, I thought why not just succumb to the brainrot. I have been in a stupefied gegepilled state for the past week so here u go. product of my brain doing its thing.

available on AO3 | reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Though there was much that the Colonel couldn’t remember, there was one constant: he always had the same dream.

It would be as if he was seeing the world in somebody else’s eyes. He’d see fire and total destruction, debris scattered all over what used to be his home. He’d feel phantom pains in his limbs and cough and choke from the smoke in the air. The next time he came to, he’d be strapped to a table in a cold room with fluorescent lights. There would be masked people around him, all dressed in military uniforms as they oversaw his experimentation process. Then, he’d feel excruciating pain all over his body, electricity shocking through his entire system as the world went dark. There’d be a strange emptiness where his arm was meant to be.

After that, he’d hear a hiss as the doors to his cryo chambers opened, effectively waking him up for the mission that day. His quarters were perhaps in the most secluded part of the Farspace Fleet’s base, away from any inquisitive eyes and potential dangers (though those wouldn’t be of any concern to him). The room was dark and freezing, but it was nothing he couldn’t withstand. He was superhuman. Serum after serum and tests after tests were done on him for as long as he could remember. As far as the Fleet was concerned, he was the prime of all men—strong, fearless, merciless, and on a level far beyond others.

Not once has he ever failed a mission. The Colonel completed every task flawlessly. He never left behind loose ends. He had no name, no memories, and no sentiments holding him back. He zeroed in on succeeding every mission, and he did. There was no reward for a soldier like him. He lived in a rigid routine—be awakened from cryostasis, do the mission, return to the cryo chamber, and it would start all over again. The disciplinarian lifestyle suited him, he thought. His main duty was to do the dirty work. He didn’t fraternise like his superiors did. He didn’t feel, and if he did, they’d shock him again, restarting his memory anew.

The wintry coldness surrounded his body as the chamber pushed him out of its confines, allowing him to step down and roll his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles. Frost clung to his metal arm and glinted in the light of the laboratory. A mechanic was performing a routine inspection on it, numerous tools at the ready beside him as one of the Farspace Fleet’s officials—Commander Rand—paced around the room slowly, seemingly deep in thought. The metal in her heels clicked against that of the flooring; the noise reverberated throughout the room, knocking against the ground in steady taps.

“Your mission this time is slightly different from what we usually make you do,” she said, stopping in front of him and holding out a folder. He took it gingerly. “We don’t need you to kill… yet. We just need you to deliver a warning.”

He peered at the photos within. From first glance, it was already clear that you were a civilian, and a harmless one at that. Though not one to question his orders, he didn’t understand how someone so mundane could have caught the Farspace Fleet’s attention. She said your name as he was reading it. Reflexively, blurred images and voices flashed in his mind, a sharp pain striking his head.

I’m not a little girl anymore, █████.

It wasn’t the first time these flashes happened. They came whenever he was conscious. He couldn’t tell if they were memories or just figments of his imagination—or of whatever humanity was left within him. The voice felt so familiar yet so far away, too out of reach, like it was light years beyond him.

I don’t need you to protect me.

The words haunted him whenever there was silence. It continued to haunt him even now as the older woman stood in front of him patiently, crossing her arms over her chest. Hiding his discomfort, he opted to ignore it for the time being and return his gaze to her.

She offered him a wry smile. “This poor little puppy has been sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“How so?” he finally spoke up. Civilians weren’t of interest to him. No one was, really. If it wasn’t combat information, then he didn’t care, but there was something about your photo that piqued his curiosity just the slightest. He chalked it up to him being meticulous. Anything to guarantee the success of the mission.

Sparks bounced off of his arm as buzzing filled in the brief silence. Commander Rand produced a cigarette from her breast pocket, placing it between her lips and smoothly lighting it up with a match. Her expression was pulled taut, shoulders stiff as she shifted her weight to one leg, standing more comfortably. He barely noticed the mechanic finishing up his work and hurrying out of the room, presumably afraid of their presence. She exhaled heavily.

“She’s caught wind of our… activities behind the scenes,” she explained with a pitched sigh, blowing smoke out the corner of her lips. “Not a journalist, not a private investigator, just a nosy little thing. Keeps looking into Bloomshore District. We have the media and police in our pockets, but, well… you know how I hate loose ends.”

“She’s a civilian,” he pointed out.

“You’ve done worse, Colonel. Don’t act all high and mighty now,” she retorted, tone dripping with mockery.

She was right. Any outspoken rebels were dealt with by the Colonel himself. In the same manner he had gone through before, these people were brought up to the laboratory where they sat in the electrical chair. Scientists worked tirelessly to hypnotise and medicate them, and by the time they were done, the subjects would not remember anything. As far as they were concerned, it was a nightmare, and the man overseeing these procedures didn’t exist.

He pursed his lips, suddenly irritated. “What do you need me to do?”

“Do whatever you want. Maybe take a direct approach,” she sighed, taking another drag of her cigarette. “Just let her know we’re watching.”

“And if she resists?”

“Bring her here. I’m leaving the interrogation and reprogramming in your hands.” She smiled again. The gesture was sardonic and forced. Something didn’t feel right. “Is that clear?”

It wasn’t anything outside of his capabilities. The Fleet used him as a multifunctional asset—assassin, bodyguard, spy, and everything in between. Doing their dirty work was nothing new. He flexed his metal fingers in front of him, curling it into a fist as he gave her a determined stare. He nodded grimly.

“Good. Better get started, Colonel.”

—

The Farspace Fleet had eyes and ears everywhere.

From mirrors in homes, corners of buildings on the streets to the most inconspicuous of things like trees and benches, cameras and microphones were in every nook and cranny of Skyhaven. No household was safe. They saw everything, they heard everything, and they knew everything. Vocal criticism of the Fleet was punishable by law. Any journalist who dared speak up would suddenly be out of work, and those who dared act on their thoughts would be thrown into a holding cell. It was how they kept the people of Skyhaven under their thumb.

This never seemed to be a concern for you at all.

You weren’t afraid to ask questions as soon as they came to mind. You weren’t afraid to venture into places the Fleet declared forbidden, either. Bloomshore District had been closed off since the explosion and was deemed an extremely polluted area unsafe for the people since last year. You still stopped by every now and then, silently musing in front of the remnants of homes. You had a particular fixation on the explosion despite the Fleet having ‘confirmed’ it to be an accident. Your searches dug deep, veering dangerously close to the truth, and your social media activity revealed everything you were interested in. He was starting to see why Commander Rand saw you as a potential threat.

The second thing he noticed was that you were constantly anxious.

You always returned home before the sun set. As soon as it got dark, your blinds would be closed, and your windows would be locked. You’d cover the small gap beneath the front door with fabric and compulsively check the lock until you were reassured enough. Though you lived in a relatively safe area close to the local university, it seemed that you were still wary of your neighbours, especially those who were male. You constantly looked behind you when you were walking, trying to detect a predator, and you always held your key between your fingers as a makeshift weapon.

The third thing he noticed was that you liked living by a routine. It wasn’t anything complicated. In the morning, you’d leave for work, and some time after four in the evening, you’d return home. After freshening up, you’d leave for the cemetery with a lunch box in hand. You’d sit in front of a headstone and eat; no words were spoken, only hushed whispers of the wind.

He had once gone ahead and took a look at the headstone himself, his innate curiosity awakened. “Here Lies Caleb, Loved In and After Death” was engraved into the surface. He didn’t recognise the name, but there was something about it that seemed to strike a nerve. His head throbbed as visions flashed before his eyes once more. He pictured a younger version of you beaming at him, braces on full display as your eyes crinkled into little curved moons. He pictured a hand coming up to affectionately ruffle your hair and the sound of chuckles in response to your pout. He wasn’t one to contemplate his past often—to him, all he needed to think about was the mission—but a nagging sense of familiarity tugged at his heart strings, causing him to falter.

‘Always,’ ‘by your side,’ and ‘promise.’ Those words echoed themselves in his brain in desperate whispers, begging for him to remember what they meant. He stared at the road ahead of him. Your silhouette was long gone, but your presence lingered with him, like a magnetic field drawing him close. Days of observing you led to more questions than answers. Not just questions about you, but questions about himself. Who was he before he became the Colonel? What was the death and resurrection he dreamt of so often? The voice he heard in flashbacks—was it yours?

Things he never considered became all that he thought about. He began to jot everything down in a small notebook in hopes that it would remind him of something, anything. He was no longer working emotionlessly; this time, there was a storm gathering in his mind, and he was feeling everything all at once. When he returned to his safehouse that day, the sight of you sitting in front of his (was it really his?) grave replayed before his eyes again and again. Though the fog was starting to clear little by little, the past was still obscured in uncertainty. This was only one small piece of the puzzle, and you were the key.

It was a rainy evening when he finally made his move. You weren’t home, having gone out to dinner with your coworkers. He picked the lock to your front door with ease and invited himself in, careful eyes scanning his surroundings. Trinkets and collectibles of things you enjoyed decorated the empty spaces on the shelves. Your shoes rested unevenly on their rack, some of them askew and some missing its other side. Post-it notes and magnets were scattered across the door of your fridge, and the counter had a basket of decorative apples placed on it. It brought forth a nostalgic feeling, one that reminded him of youth and family.

He continued on. The stairs creaked with each step he took up the stairs. The door to your bedroom was wide open, revealing your sanctuary to him. The bed was unmade. Pillows were messily thrown on top of each other and the blanket was hanging off the edge. Plush dolls of varying sizes lined up the side of your bed. Some of your clothes laid on the mattress, presumably the ones you decided you weren’t going to wear. He stepped inside carefully, gaze darting across the room before it landed on your desk.

There was an open notebook on it. The pages were full of scrawled handwriting. Some of them had nonsensical diagrams with only a few keywords connecting them to one another. Ever, F.F., body not recovered. He flipped through the pages, trying to make sense of what you’d written when a photograph fell out, slowly floating down before he caught it swiftly. It was a photo of him and you together. You were kissing his cheek and he wore a delightfully surprised expression on his face. A large bouquet of apple blossoms was in his hands, seemingly handmade. He hardly recognised the man in the image. It felt as though he was looking at someone else.

His head was starting to throb. Pushing on, he flipped the photograph over to find a note written on the back—no matter where you fly to, remember to come home to me! written in black marker and accented with heart-shaped stickers. Without thinking, he tucked it into his pocket as his mind spun with several theories and fragments of remembrance. Memories of your laughter drifted into his mind, accompanied by blurred images of your playful smile and your twinkling eyes. Images of childhood flashed before his eyes. He saw a garden of irises and white peonies, a rainbow in his field of sight. He saw a worn down attic, glass shards scattered all across the ground as someone held on tight to him.

He remembered holding a needle and thread in his hands, fixing up a beloved plush doll and putting it back together. He remembered the scent of jasmine and lemongrass, wafting past his nostrils and bringing forth thoughts of summer. He felt the comfort of a person’s presence and the pride of being relied on by someone. Knees giving out beneath him, he shakily took a seat on your bed and took in a deep breath in an attempt to ease his mind. Distress weighed heavy on his shoulders. The memories felt so real and so close, but they still didn’t feel like they belonged to him.

I’m scared… Will you stay with me?

I’ll protect you. I promise.

Electric shocks. The sound of a man’s pained screams. Ice-cold temperatures. Agonising pain on his shoulder. He wished there was an easier way to search for answers. In the back of his mind, he wondered just how much the Farspace Fleet had taken from him. He didn’t know what it was in exchange for. They gained a deadly and untouchable asset, but he gained nothing.

Thunder roared outside. It snapped the Colonel back to the present. Seeing the sky flash outside made dread settle at the pit of his stomach. There was a lot to consider, but he had to return the mission—it was his duty. Adjusting the mask on his face, he returned downstairs to wait for your return. The downpour was slowing down, transitioning into a lighter shower as time passed by. The Farspace Fleet uniform he donned was starting to feel suffocating, like they weren’t meant for him. Still, he composed himself and watched as the doorknob turned with the sound of keys jingling in the background. Flailing around blindly, it took a couple of tries before you were able to find the light switch, and the light smile you’d been wearing on your face immediately twisted into a look of fear.

“Who are you?” you breathed, fists clenching the strap of your bag tighter. “How did you get in my house?”

He stepped forward. “You’ve been lurking in places you shouldn’t be in.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows knit together in a mix of uncertainty and agitation. Your gaze travelled to his hat then his clothes before reality dawned on you. “You’re from the Farspace Fleet?”

Ignoring the lump forming in his throat, he handed you a folder. With trembling hands, you looked through them, eyes widening upon realising that they were records of your personal data. Chat logs, search histories and surveillance images stared back at you. You wanted to run away but you were rooted to your spot, completely frozen still. He made his move to leave, stopping just beside you.

“This is your final warning,” he said. His voice was quiet, hesitant. “Stop looking into Fleet matters.”

With that said, he walked out of your home and closed the door behind him. The rain drowned out the sound of your crying, but he heard everything.

—

You laid low for a few days after that.

The surveillance feed showed that you barely left your house at all. Instead of opening your curtains all the way through, you left but a small sliver for the sunlight to shine in. It was a reaction he saw often. You were far from the first citizen he had to warn. He’d done worse for those who did less. Commander Rand was unpredictable; however someone was going to be dealt with depended entirely on her mood that day. The Colonel was simply her soldier. He followed his orders. He always completed his missions.

He continued to keep an eye on you. At first, you held back. You hardly used your computer and ignored incoming calls, worried that one of them might be him. He had hours’ worth of footage of you blankly staring into whatever programme was playing on television. Isolation brought unwelcome company, allowing fear and doubt to enter the fray, and you were losing. With no visible sign that you were going to keep poking around, he was prepared to report to Commander Rand about his success.

But on the sixth night of self-isolation, you picked up right where you left off. You were back to spending hours on your laptop, sifting through your notes and tinkering with your evidence board. It was as if you had an epiphany, a burst of energy. You’d thrown yourself off the couch and ran to your room, digging through your drawers to find everything you hid away after his visit. The footage was grainy and unclear, impossible to zero in on the details of what you were doing.

No longer did you turn in early. Mugs of coffee kept you awake all night. You’d spend hours at your desk and get up, stretching your limbs before sitting back down. You’d talk to yourself, moving animatedly as you paced around the room. Frantic, sleepless, and on the verge of a discovery. You started returning to the explosion site as well. Surveillance caught you crouching before a burnt down house, digging through the rubble and capturing photos. You were more careful in your movements. You broke out of the self-imposed curfew and left when the streets were desolate. No stone was left unturned.

The longer he watched you, the more his thoughts circulated around you. There was a need to know everything about you clawing at his chest, pulling him down into dark waters. Before long, he was visiting the site in question himself. Fleeting images of a home appeared before his eyes. Muffled words rang in his ears. The dream he always had—the one where there was only fire and debris, only pain and hopelessness—was starting to feel like a true memory. It left him out of kilter. He found his thoughts wandering more frequently as he tried to make sense of the broken pieces in his head.

He was strong. He knew this, and yet, being more aware has never made him feel so helpless. He was a man grasping at straws. He was a traveller trying to find an oasis in endless desert sands. The rational part of him—the Colonel, not this broken man—reminded him to focus. That these memories were forgotten for a reason, and that he didn’t need them. He found himself stuck inside a paradox of wanting to know but fearing what he would see—fearing that he’d loathe it if he saw the truth. He didn’t know what he’d do after learning it, either. Being the renowned agent Colonel meant his life was in the Fleet’s possession. He wouldn’t be able to return to a normal life, not like the one he seemingly had with you. And if he showed any sign of remembering, they’d shock him with electricity again until every thought left his head.

If he was dead, then he was reborn as a captive to the Farspace Fleet. Insurmountable amounts of blood were on his hands. Hundreds of people had been beaten by him until they were nothing left but a mass of broken bones. Hundreds more had undergone the same therapy that he did, all under his orders. His title was spoken in hushed whispers by people afraid of encountering him and his mechanical ways.

The Colonel is watching. The Colonel sees everything. The Colonel is a cruel, lifeless puppet—

His life was theirs. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. There was only you, and even if he only knew bits and pieces of you, he was unknowingly latching on to you like you were his lifeline. You held the answers. You held the truth. And now that you were on the Commander’s radar, he was the only one who could save you—and free himself from this prison they trapped him in.

(I’ll always be by your side.)

His earpiece rang. “Colonel. Any updates?”

“Commander,” he greeted, taking a moment to think. The turmoil within gnawed at him, wrapping its ghastly hands around his throat, digging their claws into his skin and drawing blood. He still had to finish the mission. After a long pause, he finally spoke up again, throat closing up and heart pounding against his chest. “Bringing her to HQ now.”

—

You awakened to complete darkness.

The room was cold, sending goosebumps rising across your skin. You felt trapped and oddly stiff. Trying to stand up, you found that there were metal restraints holding your wrists and ankles back against the interrogation chair. The lights suddenly came on, not giving you any time to adjust your vision as two people came into view. One of them wore a mask that covered up to his eyes. You struggled against the binds, fruitlessly trying to break free as the woman stepped forward with a smirk.

“Look who’s awake,” she cooed. “Our little problem.”

“Where am I?” you blurted out. Your head was pounding and fatigued seeped deep down into your bones, slowing down whatever train of thought you could have. “You’re… Commander Rand. Am I…”

“Yes,” she chuckled. “You’re here at the Farspace Fleet’s base. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? A little glimpse of how we do things behind the scenes?”

You let out a heavy exhale. “I haven’t told anyone about what I found.”

“It doesn’t matter, little girl.” Her tone turned sharp, the stability in her voice a façade to the rage brewing deep within her soul. “I was nice enough to have the Colonel warn you harmlessly. You just can’t take ‘no’ for an answer, can you?”

Fear shot into your heart. Apprehension stirred at the pit of your stomach, making your blood run cold as you struggled some more. She sighed in exaggeration, leaning her arms against her knees.

“You wanted to know the truth behind Bloomshore District?” She clapped, her lips curling into a sly smile. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Colonel, take off your mask.”

Hesitantly, he complied, and in that moment, your world stopped.

You couldn’t say a word. You stared into the eyes of the man you thought was dead. You saw the explosion yourself, felt the debris cut into your skin as your home burned down. You visited the abandoned area several times when you missed home. The necklace you wore was beginning to feel heavier, something akin to a ball and chain. You couldn’t believe your eyes. The ringing in your ears grew increasingly violent the longer you realised that this wasn’t a dream—this was all real, and you were right in the middle of it.

“Caleb?” you whispered in disbelief.

“The one and only!” Commander Rand declared. You could practically hear the smirk and mockery in her voice. “Even better, he can’t remember you. You’re nothing. Is that enough for closure, little girl?”

She laughed and laughed like she was watching a comedy show, clutching at her stomach and wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Her laughter was loud and grating, demeaning, and it sparked a burning rage inside you.

“It doesn’t matter,” she continued with a happy sigh once she calmed down from her moment of sadistic joy. “You know, we’ve put him through a lot since that fateful day. But we saved his life. You ran away.”

“We brought him to life. Took away everything that made him weak and turned him into the perfect soldier. And you, little girl…” She leaned forward, the smile never dropping from her face. “You’re the final part of his test.”

She brandished a pistol and shoved it into Caleb’s hands, pushing him forward with a satisfied expression on her face.

“You know what to do, Colonel.”

Caleb watched you quietly. It felt like he was drifting further and further apart from you. You didn’t want to die, but your choices led you here—this was your fault, everything was, and you were going to pay the price for it. You looked up at him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you forced a smile, your voice quivering as you spoke.

“I’m glad I got to see you again.”

He cocked the gun. You closed your eyes and braced yourself for the inevitable. You weren’t as religious as you used to be, but you still recited a prayer in your mind, hoping that the heavens would have mercy on you.

You heard the sound of a gunshot, but you felt nothing.

Tentatively opening your eyes, you found that Caleb had his back faced to you. Commander Rand was no longer speaking. There was a bullet wound in the middle of her forehead and she slouched over. The metal restraints unlocked, allowing you to free yourself. The sight of her corpse made you wince. You reflexively looked away, not wanting to see any more of the blood and gore.

He faced you again. “We don’t have much time.”

“What—”

He swiftly carried you in his arms and pushed the door open, briskly making his way down the hall. He peeked out of the corner, scanning if there were more personnel around. Once he was sure that the coast was clear, he continued to run before finally arriving at what appeared to be a fire exit staircase. He hurried down, the metal plating echoing within the walls as he did so. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fear coursing through your veins as he made his escape.

The moment he opened the door, clamour broke out. Gunshots rang and bullet shells fell to the ground with a loud clang. The staccato rhythm made the adrenaline rush worse, intensifying your anxiety until all you could hear was the ringing in your ears. Caleb deflected every bullet with his arm, keeping you shielded with his body. A gasp left him as a bullet grazed his cheek. The sting was of little concern to him. He needed to get you to safety.

He held you closer. The soldiers were approaching. Spotting a plane with its ramp down, he unceremoniously tossed you into the ship before rushing into the pilot’s seat, gearing up for take off. Bullets bounced off of the surface as the vehicle rolled down the runway at full speed. Some officers were forced to move out of the way. Some didn’t leave in time. He started its ascent, going higher and higher into the air. The ramp was slowly closing up, but you could still see blood and bodies on the rooftop.

Death wasn’t unfamiliar, but witnessing it was.

You stared at him in horror. You never knew he was capable of such violence. This wasn’t the Caleb you knew—this was a stranger taking on his form. Was this what he was doing for the past year? Taking lives without batting an eye and running from danger? You were stunned, speechless. Where were you supposed to begin?

Your stomach lurched when you glanced out the window as you pushed yourself back to your feet. Being several miles off the ground made your panic increase tenfold. You breathed heavily and sat down, gripping the edge of your seat. You barely made it out earlier. Caleb had been moving at an inhuman speed, effortlessly deflecting bullets while keeping you safe. Your protection at the cost of many lives. You didn’t know what to feel.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelled, fully distraught. “You just ran over a bunch of people!”

“I had to get you to safety,” he replied easily.

“But—” You cut yourself off, throwing your hands in the air with a frustrated groan. You were glad to be safe, but what you saw earlier—that wasn’t right. Those were people with families, children, loved ones waiting at home. This man was a monster. “A child is going to wonder why his father’s not coming home. How can you be so unaffected?”

Your voice was shaking and you could barely hold back your tears, the emotional turbulence catching up to you without warning. Caleb shot you a concerned glance but swiftly returned to focusing on the path ahead of him.

His fists clenched around the handle. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

“None of this would’ve happened if you just killed me, Caleb!” you cried out.

“I said I’d keep you safe,” he repeated, more firmly this time. There was a hint of irritation in his tone. He’d never spoken to you like this before. You only cried harder, overwhelmed by everything that had just happened.

“And here I thought I needed you,” you muttered bitterly, turning away from him. You didn’t want to look at him. “How am I supposed to live with this?”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure if you wanted him to.

Silence settled over the cabin. The only sound you could hear was the dull vibrations of the engine within. Time seemed to pass by torturously slowly. Every second felt too long. The weight of your words and regret lingered in the air, leaving it with a sour taste.

With a sudden lurch, the ship began its descent. The soft jolt of landing brought you back to the present. Caleb unbuckled his harness and went towards the control before crouching down, deftly searching for something beneath the panel.

“What are you doing?”

“Disabling the tracker,” he replied, ripping off the piece with ease. “So they can’t find us.”

Effortlessly crushing it into pieces with his metal hand, he tossed them away and made his way over to you. Before you could ask, he slipped his arms beneath your shoulders and the back of your knees and hoisted you up without so much of a grunt. You banged your fists on his chest, struggling to get out of his hold.

“Let me down!”

“No.”

“Caleb!”

“Please. Let me protect you,” he said, finally meeting your eyes. There was a profound sadness within them, making you waver for a moment. “I promised I’d always keep you safe.”

He trekked through the shallow waters, grasslands and rocky paths with expertise. The new scenery made for a rather good distraction. The sun’s rays peeked between the threes and adorned the path in light and shadow. Birds cawed and chirped from where they were hidden, engaging in a natural symphony. After what felt like hours, you arrived at a bunker built into the hill. He gingerly put you down and walked up to the doors, quickly typing something on the keypad.

“Door is unlocked,” came the automated voice.

He ushered you inside and closed the door behind him, activating every lock hidden behind it. It looked more like a resort than it did a military bunker. There was a kitchen with marble countertops, a massive television on the wall and an equally large sofa as the centerpiece. It smelled clean, like it hadn’t been used in years. The sight of him darting across the place was overwhelming you.

“Caleb!” you called out, breaking him out of his daze. “Can we please talk?”

“This is Commander Rand’s private island. I’ve escorted her here once. No one else knows about it.”

“That’s not what we need to talk about,” you sighed. Feeling weak in the knees, you sat down, and he followed suit. “You… You killed her. And you killed them.”

“She was a threat to you. I had to eliminate her,” he responded. He almost sounded casual. “She was the one who gave me the order to keep an eye on you, and I did. But… there’s something about you. I started to remember. What happened back there gave me proof of it.”

“What have they done to you?” The way your voice was so quiet broke his heart. “You’ve changed.”

The fingers on his bionic arm curled into a fist then relaxed not long after. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before looking at you with regret, weakness evident in his voice, “I can’t tell you.”

You wanted to scream and cry, to break something, but all you did was stare at him. You didn’t know what to feel. It was a tempest in your head, an amalgamation of relief, sadness, anger and shock. You had spent a year grieving over him, digging into the deepest, darkest corners to find out who was behind his death, only to learn that he was alive the entire time. Alive, brainwashed, turned into a super soldier. Turned into a monster.

Despite your rage, you let him pull you in for a warm embrace. The feeling and the warmth of him made you break into sobs again, fists grabbing the fabric of his shirt until they trembled. Your ear was pressed against his chest.. His heart thumped beneath his ribcage, proving to you that this was real. He was real.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured sadly. “I had to do it.”

You slouched against him, eyes slowly closing from the exhaustion. Your drowsy state tuned out the sound of his voice.

“I did it for you.”

—

Caleb was having a nightmare.

His brows furrowed and his fingers flexed and unfurled. Sweat gathered at the crown of his head as he squirmed in place, wincing and mumbling under his breath. You slowly blinked the sleep out of your eyes and blindly patted the bed searching for him. When you found his arm, you gently shook him awake, trying to wake him up.

“Caleb,” you called. “Caleb, wake up.”

His eyes snapped open and he wheezed, chest rising and falling with each breath. In the dim light, he looked up at you and panted, still reeling from his nightmare.

“I’m sorry.”

You frowned. “Why are you saying sorry? It’s out of your control.”

Sighing through your nose, you gingerly brushed his hair back. The damp strands glided between your fingers.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. It was the softest you had been with him since yesterday. “It might help take your mind off of it.”

He paused for a moment. He seemed to be hesitating. Knowing him, it was likely because he didn’t want you to see him this way, but it was too late for worries like that.

“They took everything from me,” he murmured, defeated. “My arm. My memories. And…”

He took your hand in his and laced your fingers together. You listened quietly and let him seek your warmth. Even through everything, you cared about him. You were still shaken from what happened, but the way he sounded so broken had you crumbling completely.

“I couldn’t remember,” he continued, barely louder than a whisper. “Until I knew it was you.”

“Caleb…”

“Every time I remembered, they shocked me and put me in ice until my next mission. My life was theirs.”

Heat spread across your body as you grew enraged. Not at him anymore, but at them for ruining him the way they did. He would never be the same. He could never have a normal life again. You couldn’t imagine just how much they put him through in the past year.

“They hurt me, but it can never compare to what they made me do.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I knew what to say,” you whispered softly. “If I had known—”

“You being here is enough,” he said, squeezing your hand warmly to ground himself. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

You cupped the side of his face and gently caressed his cheek with your thumb. You didn’t mean the horrible things you said to him, but you couldn’t take them back. An apology died at the tip of your tongue as he shuffled closer, resting his forehead against your own. You could feel his gaze on you even in the dark. You could never forget the way he looked at you. It was something shared between the two of you. Only you and he knew what it meant.

“Caleb,” you breathed, “I missed you.”

Your throat felt like it was getting closed up. Your bottom lip quivered and you began to cry, trying to hold back the sobs that were leaving you. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes and burst, sliding down your face and staining the pillow beneath. Your lips were close to brushing each other. Craning your head, you met him in a chaste kiss, eyelids fluttering shut. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you flush to him, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“You said you didn’t need me,” he uttered. A sense of urgency clawed at him. “Do you still believe that?”

You exhaled slowly. “No. I don’t.”

“Say it,” he sighed. “Please.”

“I need you, Caleb.”

His lips met yours in a passionate, hungry kiss. His hands roamed your body, mapping out every inch of your skin beneath his touch as he let you push him onto the bed. You straddled his waist and lovingly cradled his face, letting him lose himself in your taste, eyelids fluttering shut as he fell deeper and deeper. A shaky moan left his throat when you moved to his neck, pressing gentle kisses against it before grazing his skin with your teeth and sucking softly.

He squeezed your hips firmly. “Lay back. I need to taste you.”

The bedsheets rustled as you switched positions, sinking into the pillows beneath. He kissed a trail down your body, taking in your scent before stopping between your legs. Gently lifting your legs, he let them rest on his shoulders as he hurriedly tugged off your panties. You pushed yourself on to your elbows to watch him mark the inside of your thighs with his teeth, fingers digging into your skin possessively. The first flick of the tongue was tentative, testing the waters until you ran your fingers through his hair, nails tenderly scraping his scalp.

He licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit, the ticklish sensation making your toes curl into themselves. Wrapping his lips around the sensitive nub, he suckled on it softly, humming deep in his chest as he immersed himself into your arousal.

“Caleb,” you whisper, arching your back when he grazed your clit with his teeth, “I don’t think I can—oh—”

His fingers carefully slid into you, coating themselves in your slick before he started slowly thrusting them in and out, cheeks flushed from the lewd squelching noises made between your legs. Your head fell back, lips parted as a breathy moan left your lips. He curled his digits against your walls, reaching deeper than you could’ve ever done yourself, and your thighs closed down on either side of his head, making him groan.

Tthe ache in your core grew hotter, tighter. His gaze drifted over to you. Your head was thrown back, but he could still see the rise and fall of your chest, feel your muscles tensing under his hands. He pulled back for a moment, a string of spit connecting his lips to your folds.

“Is this good?” he asked breathily, fingertips massaging the spot in your walls that had you crying out broken syllables of his name. You tried to speak, but no words came out; all you could do was moan as he rendered you speechless. Deciding it was enough, he withdrew and gently kissed the inside of your thigh. “Do you think you can take more?”

“Take me,” you sighed, dreamy eyes meeting his.

He climbed back up and kissed you again, letting you taste your own essence from his tongue. The tip of his cock slid between your folds before he gently pushed in inch by inch, making him moan into the kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist, easing him in as you tried to adjust to the unfamiliar stretch inside you. He pulled back to carefully watch your expressions, searching for discomfort as he bottomed out. You felt heavenly around him, your walls sucking in his hardness in ways better than he could’ve imagined.

Caleb pressed light kisses all over your face, murmuring doting words you couldn’t register. Any coherent thought you had in your head dissipated into thin air, the feeling of being filled to the brim too overwhelming to handle in all the best ways possible. You lightly pulled him flush to you, giving him the signal to move. Carefully, he drew his hips back and thrusted forward, taking the breath out of your lungs. He started a slow, steady rhythm, his hips grinding against yours as you hid your face in his neck, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders.

It was far too much. The foreign bliss invading your senses, the heat exuding from him, the love he made you feel. You whined, your voice reedy as he fucked you in earnest, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. Your brain felt like mush, unaware of anything else other than him, him, him.

“I missed you,” he breathed into your ear, murmuring your name with so much love, “I missed you.”

“Caleb—”

You tightly squeezed your thighs around his waist, jaw hanging open as your walls clamped down hard on his cock, making him falter in his movements just the slightest. A soft sound akin to a whimper left his lips, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck as he chased his own high, hips growing erratic in their pace. It didn’t take long before he tipped over the edge as well, filling you with warm streaks of white. He panted in your ear, catching his breath while your hands travelled across his back, gently petting him in affection.

You pulled him closer. You needed to be near him, needed to be with him in any way possible, the close contact making your mind spin and your heart pound against your ribcage.

“Can I be selfish?” he asked quietly, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss it. “I don’t want you to go.”

You sighed, content. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I can’t promise you a peaceful life.” It was a stark contrast to the Colonel who had been at your doorstep. That man was cold and domineering. This man was kind, vulnerable, yours. “I wish I could.”

You caressed his cheek lovingly, giving him a timid smile. “It’s okay. I just want to be with you.”

“We’ll constantly be moving around,” he said. The words were leaving him before he could think. You had that effect on him, he thought, where he felt like he could let his guard down and feel safe with you. His gaze softened as he stared into your eyes, his breath slowing down as he gradually relaxed. “We won’t be home.”

“It was bound to happen,” you cooed. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck while he slipped his arms beneath you, holding you close like he was scared you’d fade away. He let out a heavy sigh, sinking into your softness as he buried his face into the crook of your shoulder. “But you’ll protect me, right?”

Caleb’s hold on you tightened. A dark glint passed over his eyes.

“I won’t let anyone take you away from me. Never.”

That was his oath to you.

[chizu117]

Romancing the Emperor on a redeemed Dark Urge is the most hilarious route in the game when you look at it from Gortash's POV.

Imagine:

The weird ass Actual Alien Creature you went through great pains to enslave because it was eating your goons escapes, and a few months later it shows up again and it's rounded up a posse to kick your ass, one of which is your bestie who now has amnesia and has rejected the god that made them. The monster then proceeds to FUCK your bestie, who is now in love with it, has them blow up your foundry, and then kills + robs you.

The disrespect 📈📈📈

[aokozaki]

The whole "Ragnarok spell check 'corrected' to Kangaroo" translation mistake is a classic and all, but there's another similar example of an all time classic editing error worth talking about.

The Visual Novel Ever17 ~ The Out of Infinity features two protagonists observing the same events, as a group of people gets trapped in an underwater theme park.

(It's by writers who'd go on to make Zero Escape or Root Double, and much of the rest of the team went on to do the Science Adventure series at MAGES.

To a modern audience, Ever17 might seem really slowly paced and meandering, but that's because the Infinity Series it's a part of shows a fascinating transition from "romance VN with sci-fi elements" to "straight sci-fi VN", an important stepping stone for the genre.

Ever17 is slow, but the true ending picks up the pace as it interrogates all the lingering threads from the character endings. Anyway...)

One of the two protagonists is a young boy with amnesia, who doesn't even remember his own name. One scene early on both routes has the gang decide to give him a name, for convenience, suggesting several names from previous protagonists of VNs from the same developer, as a little easter egg.

None of them stick, and so the group collectively shrug and decide to just call him "shounen".

Now, E17's translation was a bit of a rush job, with the translator not having enough time for a proper level of polish and care (lines like "naturally I knows the hacker" come to mind), and this lead to a hastily done case of find-and-replace making its way into the released version.

We know that in an earlier draft of the translation, "shounen" was translated as "youth". This both reads a little weirdly in English and missed the intended punchline. Thankfully, before release, they spotted it:

They try the names of several previous protagonists of the developer's VNs, before shrugging and going with "shounen".

Ever17 was developed by Kindle Imagine Develop, or KID for short, so the joke is they should be calling him "kid". Like, y'know, "hey kid", or whatever. With limited time, the translator found "youth" and replaced it with "kid". There, all done, that shouldn't cause any problems.

The find and replace tool used for this game somehow didn't take spaces into account.

Lines like "what do you think?" become "what do kidink?" Phenomenal.

[greml1nb0i]

Hazbin Hotel Rewrite [WIP- this is copy and pasted from my docs; this is old but i wanted to share it anyway]

Rewrite the Characters:

Original +opinions (ooo~ Spicy) :

Charlie - Princess of Hell, Daughter of Lucifer. Sheltered and Cheery.

  I hate that she’s just Disney Princess coded. They could have used the whole sheltered route well but TBF we don't see that either.  We see a weird rendition of that where everyone forgives her for her terrible actions but yet other characters like Husk and Angel Dust are somehow held to a higher sense of accountability for their actions?!

  I also don’t believe whoever raised Charlie could keep her away from the ever growing and changing landscape of Hell. Like if you're going to be a Princess of anything its really important for the next heir to be well acquainted with their kingdom's landscape and history. At the very least talk to the locals and commonwealth. 

 Her design is...ok. It didn't change much from the pilot but tbh i liked her Pilot design, I feel like it makes sense for her to wear hints of red and white, but i wish they added more than just red, i feel like black or gold would have been better or even purple for Biblical accuracy of Pride.

Vaggie - Girlfriend to Charlie and protector of the Hotel, ex-Exorcist. 

 Why did they change the lore? Also why does it feel like the VA hated being there or was just given 0 directions. She sounds dull and plain except for when she’s sounding like she’s angry, which is 99.98% Of Vaggie’s emotions.

  That, an amnesia apparently?! How does vaggie not remember the very weapon that cut out her FUCKING EYE that still makes no sense, like how tf her and Lucifer and even Husk have wings, if wings are going to be used for ANY character why make them seem important to Vaggie when Husk literally has wings, and Lucifer the supposed “fallen Angel” STILL HAS HIS?! Like why? How does this make sense? 

Angel - FemBoy, Sex worker. Deals in Self destruction, self loathing and deep depression while also being flirty and promiscuous. Was in a Mafia family. 1940s timeline. 

 Trauma porn character and just a bunch of gay men stereotypes. As a survivor, his story doesn't hit the way its meant to. There's a good and bad way to show SA and Abuse and while they did it “eh” (im saying this loosely) at first, they were completely unrealistic and downright infantilizing at the end.

  There's no way someone who just went through a beating, an having to almost get drugged and dragged out of bar, is going to forgive the same person who started the stupor in the first place- ESPECIALLY ON THE SAME NIGHT!!!!!

I FUCKING CANT WITH THESE WRITERS THINKING MENTAL HEALTH CAN BE SOLVED IN A 20 MIN EPSIODE, IS THIS A KIDS SHOW ABOUT FRIENDSHIP OR AN ADULT SHOW ABOUT CARTOON DEMONS IN HELL. 

And don’t get me started on that terrible musical number, it’s just soft core rape in a cheery pop tune i fucking hate it!! It doesn't help that Raph, an SA fetishist STORYBOARDED THE DAMN SCENE

WHAT THE FUCK MEDRANO!?

Husk - Angry grump, bar keeper. Contracted to Alastor. Gambler. From the 1970 or 60. 

 The design is a character designer's worst nightmares come to life on the screen. Every furry from the early 2000s clutching their pearls in cringe. It screams “omg rawr xD uwu” era and i think we as a society are way past that, i figured a 30 something year old woman would be too.

[apparently it was her sisters OC that was put into the show, viv why?!]

Alastor - radio show host from the 30s. Cannibal. Half Creole. “Wendigo design”. Cocky and always smile but is "quite dangerous when provoked." [yea ok pal]

  An OC from middle school that should have stayed in middle school. There is a reason so many OCs from artists' early childhood don't make it into their new and growing art style. Most of the time if you keep obsessing over the same OCs you stunt yourself on growing in your art. Tumblr Sexy Man is that exact thing. I like him in concept but, if he was drawn better and actually looked like a man from the 1900s and in his 40s,(or even a half creole man; that's supposedly a Wendigo) I'd have less to complain about. His concept is good and interesting, but its not the first or the last and Alastor def isn't the first. Also give that man a haircut please!

Nifty - Japanese-American. From the 50s Obsessive and a neat freak. Camera shy but psychotic.

  I feel like this is just a racist stereotype waiting to be exposed. The “young psychotic Japanese  girl” trope is so fucking old and repetitive that i cant vibe with a character like Nifty when i know her only purpose is to be used as comedy bait. It doesn't help that Viv didn't give Nifty almost any merch! Like WOW really showing favoritism over the merch sales and that is disgusting.

Sir Pentious - British inventor. Kinda an idiot but is a brilliant machinist.

  We were robbed of a decent villain. I hate that he became part of the cast and became the first redeemed as if Angel wasn't there longer and started showing signs of Redemption sooner, like we got more Redemption scenes of Angel but like NONE of Pentious and we are supposed to believe this weird snake dude is redeemed just cuz he kissed a girl and got himself killed for nothing???? VIVZIE YOUR ASS WRITING IS ASS!!

Also he's a stolen Character...seems to be a trend for Viv..

Lucifer - King of Hell, Father of Charlie, Sin of Pride. Depressed and non-serious, deep self loathing. Complex of some sort. Short King.

 He’s fine..i guess, i mean its freaking Jeremy Jordan VA-ing him…he kind fixes whatever is wrong with Lucifer character wise. [this is for very obvious reasons a joke, while re-reading this i realized some people might not know i'm being sarcastic,oopsies] He’s a terrible character for numerous reasons. He is kinda homophobic if you really think about that “i like girls too” line and then proceeds to call her “MAGGIE”;  Lucifer feels like he is just there to satisfy Viv’s  disney esque “daddy issues” type kink she has for “tragic characters and shitty dads” type characters.

 Designs wise he trash. He looks like jeff the killer but blonde and drawn by your aunt who refused to go to art school

Cherri Bomb - Angels Friend. Arsonist. From the 60s(?). Punk rock.

 Her design is literally traced and just the Addict design…the fans are just stupid. Also i dont like the fact that Viv EXPECTED viewers of her show, to have done homework on who the fuck Cherri is, cuz if you're a new watcher, and didn't read the fucking Vivziepop Bible, you wont know who tf she if or why you should even care about her.

 Why is Angel hanging out with someone like this in the first place, You’d think because Angel is older and from a different time period he wouldn't vibe with Cherri?? But apparently Viv thinks a fem gay man from the 30s would be the best homie to a 20 yr old punk rock Aussie from the 60s, a whole 3 decades of time difference!! Tell us why and how they know each other!! How can these fundamentally very different people even vibe together!! Is it just cus "wow shared trauma of abusive lovers" cuz wow Viv.

(her entire design is also stolen soooooo~)

Mimzy - who?

This one also feels really fucking racist. Idk what it is with Viv but the jewish stereotypes of Mimzie are absolutely atrocious. 

Fix:

Charlie - [TBD]

Vaggie - [TBD]

Angel - [TBD]

Husk - [TBD]

Alastor - [TBD]

Nifty - [TBD]

Sir Pentious - [TDB]

Lucifer - 

 Was an Angel with dreams, and took part in the Creation of All Things.

   However Lucifer was too ambitious and went off course with the designs of Earth’s creatures, causing the other Angels to feel uncomfortable by him and his new creations. 

While the Angels were tolerating him, he was allowed to visit the First Human, but in doing so felt that their lack of knowledge was unfair and so in hopes of helping the other Angels see things his way, he gave the Apple of Knowledge to Adam and Lilith. 

 This didn't go as planned though, Where Lilith became kinder and more empathetic, Adam however became more uptight, and acted as if he was better than Lilith.

 Lucifer defended Lilith against Adam thus causing the Angels attention to be drawn. Seeing what Lucifer had done; Ultimately bringing evil (free will) into the world, They (strangely) cast Lucifer AND Lilith, as well as the creatures Lucifer had created to the dark void;

 The Angels now would call it, Hell. Lucifer, home. 

Lucifer would first land in Hell confused and depressed, Along with Lilith they both begin to freak out as they look into the dark, empty landscape in front of them. Feelings of bitterness begin to reside within Lucifer, that settled into a resilient sense of ignorant Pride. 

Lucifer’s Creations - 

 The demons and most of the Hellborns. Lucifer is treated as the Divine Judge of Hell, His punishment is having to witness all the evil that had been created due to him and He in turn must turn what could never be, into another one of his creations. Though he is given it a process. He has given up on making anymore Hellborns due to them fixing that themselves. Demons that are specifically Dead Humans (The Sinners).

Sins - 

 All of the Sins were once creatures created by Lucifer that began to Form into The 7 Deadly Sins. However the rest of these creatures evolved into lower ranks and a hierarchy was formed. With the Sins and Lucifer being at the top.

 The 7 are special creatures that Lucifer held a special fondness to in particular. More so than some of the other Creations. Each of these Sins were given a mission after the fall and were subsequently turned into the Sins by the Angels, who felt they deserved the same punishment, if not worse, as Lucifer. Forcing each of the Sins to work as their prince/princess of their specific ring unless they want their entire existence to cease. They rather that not happen.

The angels cursed all the sins, and Lucifer himself. that if they ever stop their torment they will cease to exist. Angels thought this was humane but didn't realize or rather didn't care that much at the time how barbaric it actually is. 

Dubbed the Curse of the Angels or Angels Kiss 

(play on Kiss of Death where whomever Death kissed is marked for death, 

here the Sins were “kissed” by the Angels and a “kiss” was once used to symbolize a curse or bad omen onto another)

their "death" however is more than they evaporate into nothing

its their very minds and bodies slowly begin to deteriorate painfully to the point of being empty husks. No expression, No emotions, No sense of self. Nothing. Their consciousness and personality essentially gets erased entirely.

Premise IDEAS for Rewrite: 

1] 

Sinners go through character arc delving into their issues that lead to each one's Redemption

Heaven gets upset over the rise of redemption in Sinner 

 Earthly Denizens of Heaven/ “winners”  attack the Hotel

The Sinners and the Staff defend the Hotel

Heaven’s attackers are turned fallen. 

{END}

so i started this almost a year ago, it was right when i really started to dislike Viv and Helluva Flop Boss. If you wanna give a suggestion on what you think could make this better go for it. It's a WIP- so any advice is welcome and appreciated!!

[spyderlondon]

An au, where everyone’s memories are lost including the crew thinking they were ever real/humans when they got transported into the digital circus, they all think they are their respective characters and act as their characters personalities, heavily deviating from the ones in the show

Pomni a semi crazy goofy jester

Kinger…. A normal king

Jax, a helpful voice of reason(with a little southern accent)

And so on

A/N: .......evil Caine route? Evil Caine route. Definitely no showtime in this- it'd be far too toxic. There will be a referenced BunnyDoll though.

CW: Mind wiping, mental manipulation, puppeteeing unwilling participants, amnesia, loss of free will

Art by @00belle00lovely00

Pulling All the Strings

Ko-Fi

----

There was a small gasp then a groan as a small woman awoke in a dark room with no light visible aside from a small crack under, what she assumed, was a door, "Ugh... where-where am I...?" She mumbled quietly.

There was an almost unnoticeable dark chuckle from the corner of the room, "Seems my new puppet has awoken from her sleep~" A voice called out as she was forced onto her feet slowly and steadily as if strings were pulling her upwards against her will.

Her eyes widened in fear as she began struggling, attempting to get away. Only to feel her flesh being cut into by the invisible threads. She could only gasp in pain, "Let go! Let me [^^%*&^%] go, you ba-" She cried out as the strings seemed to yank against her neck, threatening to cut deep if she spoke another word.

Once the woman went silent and the figure seemed to feel slowly stop to struggle, he spoke up again, "They always struggle." He sighed as he on the strings once more before loosening them up, "Always struggle, almost always curse. You're all so... human." He hissed out 'human', sounding disgusted by the word. He went silent as he looked down at her, only his glowing narrowed eyes could be seen. It was as if he was examining her, judging her, figuring out who she was, "Hm, yes, you'd make a wonderful jester~" It sounded as if he was grinning, "Let me adjust your mind a tad..."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN AD- Ack!" She was silenced with another pull of the invisible string on her neck, drawing blood.

"Now, now, pet. You needn't worry about a thing..." A hand was placed on top of her head, forcing her to peer up into his heterochromatic eyes that began to quickly flash with dots and strobbing lights. She attempted to shut her eyes to avoid looking into his but that merely resulted in tiny strings taking her eyelids and forcing them open, "Do not look away from your new puppet master." He commanded with a low growl. She whimpered in fear as she had no choice but to submit to him, gazing into his flashing, wide eyes, "Good, my little jester~ Just stay like that..." He mumbled as watched the color from her eyes slowly dull from the bright violet coloration they once had and slowly had the colors separate into blue and red in a pinwheel pattern before her eyes were allowed to flutter shut.

------

"Pomni. Wake up. Time to prepare for the show." A voice spoke out, waking the jester from her sleep.

She rose as if booting up like a computer. She looked up at the floating figure in front of her with blank eyes for a moment as if registering who she was looking at- red coat... white under shirt... black pants... top hat... oh! "Hello! Caine!" She greeted as she jumped out of her bed with a bright, kind've unnatural smile on her face.

Caine hid a smirk as he watched the girl- his new puppet. His new 'AI' smile at him while rocking back and forth on her feet as if waiting orders from him. He hummed as he silently looked her up and down, admiring his work on the jester. She had a black and red color scheme unlike her blue and red eyes but her outfit had entirely changed- she had a hat on that completely covered her hair with the front part of it going down in between her eyes and barely going over the bridge of her nose with little yellow bells on the ends of the liliripes; she had a dark red vest with little purple jewels attached on the lapels; gray long sleeves that had cyan embroidery on it of some swirly patterns as well as the letters 'C&A' on the shoulders; she had dark blue and crimson gloves on her hands; her tights were black and red alternating zig zags; and her shoes were like her gloves dark blue and crimson.

The ringmaster rolled his shoulders a bit, "Hello, my dear." He mused as he greeted her, "I apologize for how I had to force you into sleep mode last night, you were just acting out too much. I had to reprogram you a bit." He explained with a feigned sigh of disappointment, "But, don't you worry, any injuries sustained were patched up Bubble!" He clapped his hands together as if everything was going as normal as always. Pomni's programming simply messed up and had to be fixed after!

"Oh! Sorry for whatever I messed up on, Ringmaster!" The jester apologized with a silly bow before glancing up at him to see him chuckling in amusement, brightening her mood up.

"Ah, it's all okay. No harm, no foul after all, my dear." He waved off, "But we mustn't stand here chatting! Jax and Ragatha's act should be over here soon! You are up next, my dear, the audience mustn't be kept waiting after all!" He urged her to get ready before he zipped off to check on the current act.

----

"You cannot see

How much I long to be free..."

A stiff looking rag doll was spinning on a large music box in the center of the main stage of the circus- she was dancing around as if she was nothing but a decoration on the mechanical contraption.

Near her was a purple rabbit with a yellow light jacket on top of a seafoam green shirt and dark yellow pants. He was moving and dancing around as if under control of an invisible puppetmaster, "Truly Scrumptious~" He sang towards the doll despite how she never glanced his way and remained ever turning, "And if I may seem presumptuous..." He danced over to the mirrors attached to the music box and looked at himself like it was choreographed... until he paused and stared himself in the mirror as if he saw a flaw on himself.

"Turning around-" The doll's eye subtly wandered towards the rabbit and noticed what he was doing, she could tell the audience and the now nearby Caine, were becoming suspicious by the rabbit's actions, "-on this music box that's..." She waited until she rotated closer to him before jolting a tiny to ram his face into the mirror, making him stumble a bit and looked around.

There was laughing from the audience and the rabbit went back to singing, "Never... never... ever..." He wandered back in front of the doll's music box where he saw a hand close to his and he couldn't but use his puppet like movements to get close to trying to give her hand a kiss.

"Wound by a key." Her moved upwards quickly, slapping one of his ears lightly- causing more laughter from the crowd.

"Go away." She made sure her arms and head moved in a perfect, robotic motion as she spun and tried to ignore the blush that tinted her cheeks a little when she saw him try to kiss her hand.

"Yearning..."

"My heart beats so unruly..." The bunny placed a hand on his chest and had it move like a heartbeat.

"Yearning..."

"Because I love you truly..." He opened his arms wide as if to get a hug from the doll.

"While I'm..." The doll sent him a small look that told him to 'stop it'.

"Honest, Truly..." The rabbit hugged himself instead.

"Turning around and around." She suddenly became frozen, the music box no longer turning.

"I do." He halfway flopped downwards, the tips of his ears barely touching the ground.

Once the music ended and there was a roar of cheering amongst the crowd, Caine popped in between two, "...meet me in my office after the show..." He ordered the two of them silently, his eyes glowing a bit as the two of them gave a quick nod before running backstage.

The ringmaster looked up to the audience, "Weren't they wonderful, audience?!" Everyone in the stands cheered loudly, "Hope our next act, the jester can impress us all just as much!" He roused up the crowd, getting them excited for the new jester.

The rag doll and rabbit stared in horror from behind the currents as they heard the announcement of a jester. The doll had to grip the rabbit to keep herself from letting her mask fall, not when another character was so close by, "He got a new person..." She mumbled under her breath, her voice trembling as she watched Pomni make her way up to where the trapeze platform were, "...we have no net to catch her if she falls..." Her face paled, "Jax..." Her grip tightened.

Jax put a hand on hers and tightened it a bit, "Caine can control her, she'll be fine, Rags..." He murmured to her, his own eyes never leaving the sight as well. Especially now that the jester had begun her performance.

-----

Song used in the fic: "Doll on a Music Box" from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

[insertnameaboutocs]

Fuck it, account overhaul! [pinned post]

Main: @yourlocalxiaosimp

I keep getting feelings of dread whenever I see this blog so I’m gonna start using it again! This time with multiple ocs!

I’m doing this so I can keep Dante’s posts on here (I don’t wanna delete them)

Anyway! New intro post cuz I decided to delete the old one.

Dante: mercenary/bounty hunter with amnesia (maybe?) who is also willing to do odd jobs. Tag: let’s make this quick. This was originally a blog just for him but then I realized I don’t have enough info about his character to properly roleplay him (might not rp him as much)

Asa Miyaoi/Miyaoi Asa (idk I think asian names are usually said last to first?): a young tinkerer who took over his dad’s shop at 10. Is now 15. He is a very optimistic person who is always looking for ways to improve his technology. (Oh yeah and his parents died) Tag: an interesting discovery!

Finn: a thief who grew up in the streets, is eventually found by either a thieves’ guild or an organization of some sort (could be rp’ed into one (if we went this route, someone would have to give him the name of Finn)) (yet another orphan in the roster) Tag: yoink!

(Amount of ocs will change over time and probably none of them are gonna be connected)

Descriptions and rules under cut:

Dante: a tall, blond man in his early to mid twenties with light brown skin, grey eyes, and lightning/electricity scars all over his body. He wears a black tank top and brown pants with a belt over his torso.

Asa: a short, black haired boy with brown skin, dark brown eyes, and a slightly broken nose. His hair is very fluffy but likely unwashed. His shirt and pants are a size or two too big, but he ties his apron over them in a way that keeps them in place. The apron is brown and extremely dirty. He wears a pair of engineering gloves that like they’d be hard to move his hands in. On his head he always dons a pair of rusty goggles owned by his father.

Finn: [description in progress]

Rules:

- No nsfw. Blood and violence is fine, but nothing else.

- No private messages. I have opened the ask box again for a reason.

- Relationship rp is welcome, but preferably not romantic (most of these characters are children so… yeah let’s not)

- These characters don’t currently have a universe that they belong in, but attempts to bring them into one is appreciated

[sl33py-g4m3r]

this turned from a larp into a full blown kind of SMT IV OC writing thing~~

and now I don't know what direction to take.... which is sad cause I feel like I'm hurting my own creativity cause I've got ideas up there~~ perhaps it would be good anyway if there was an accidental contradiction or something somewhere.... it's a fun blog thing not a mystery novel...

I've got ideas but idk where to go.....

do I write about how the prentice got injured and turned up in the infirmary? who found him? does/would he even remember that in arrival of our world? I wrote the last one like he wouldn't and just be confused... but maybe there's pain of an injury or wound that vaguely reminds him of his fate?

who found him? was it the friend whom waits with baited breath for him to awake? whom goes on missions if he has to; but is so worried about his friend that he just sits by his friends infirmary bed when he's not on mission, eating, or asleep? does he even eat or sleep much; or is the worry about his friend almost all consuming?

what happened anyway? close call with a demon? he killing it before being badly wounded as a result? or perhaps simultaneously with the finishing blow? leaving a trail of blood unknowingly as the adrenaline from the spat was still high and he didn't realize he was injured? tried to go to the barracks to rest, as he was exhausted but collapsed before he got there?

or his wake up and confusion in our own world? wondering who could see him if anyone can.... or if Burroughs and the gauntlet still work if he isn't a total amnesiac of course. but the first thing I wrote stated that he was~~~

this turned from a larp for fun into a writing for fun, and maybe throw some larp inn there as well...

I still don't have names so this might get confusing for a while until names are given.....

a bit more (attempt at) world and character building before sleep~~

edit post cause I don't want to make an entirely new post for a random thought just yet~~

If he could take damage in our world; would that be reflected in his body in Mikado? or vice versa? of course if the wound he got in naraku actually hurt him in our world then the answer would be yes...

enjoy my cluster f of writing ideas while I try to flesh out an OC I accidentally created because interesting~~

enjoy the oc rambling as I try to flesh him out more~~ hope this isn't cliche or stupid sounding~~~

I like making characters in my head but never post them much....

[kachimera]

🌻 >:3c

Ok ok so, I've had this thought for a while on the tv tropes page for Magus and how it said that he got away w his shit way too easily. And while yea one can partially agree (if you're from 600 ad Guardia lmao), most ppl don't realize how his time as the prophet must've been the Torment Nexus.

After decades of plotting his revenge (and having it conveniently sabotaged) he gets thrown back into the exact period where his life went to shit. He's still extremely focused on his goal and so he decides to fight lavos as he appears in this time period, but that means letting the ocean palace be built and put Zeal at risk, instead of using his skill and knowledge to stop the Queen's madness.

And not only that, he ends up making things worse for the few ppl that were kind to him in his past life (and himself, lol) by imprisoning the Gurus, and placing extra pressure on the already exhausted Schala (as in, now that the gurus are gone she's the only one that can run the mammon machine, etc)

But none of this matters since he's gonna kill the damm tick (and as a bonus, Zeal and his sister will be alright) right?

Except he fails. Not only gets KO'd by Lavos and has to see history repeat itself, but it drains him of his magic, the power he's despised and embraced ( long story methinks he has a very complicated relationship w his own magic), and then he has to see Schala, his dear sister who's he's been a jerk with, save him at her own expense. He had his single "second chance" to make things right and he lost it forever.

All im saying is that there is a reason Magus tries to pick a fight with the chrono gang while he's weakened, when he knows they can defeat him at full strength :)

(And this is also why the route of sparing him w Glenn makes me chew on wires. Tfw u see your enemy you've sworn to kill at his absolute lowest bc of his own revenge spiral and decide to spare him bc what's the point :) )

*And i could go on about the dream devourer ending and chrono cross (including the new extra ending). Ah yes fates worse than death and self inflicted amnesia haha

[teecupangel]

Ok, I'll be honest and say I'm scratching the bottom of the barrel as I'm running out of fandoms to throw Desmond in. So, we've had multiple FE ideas, but not Awakening yet. How do you envision the story playing out if Desmond showed up? (Either being found with Robin or when the Future Kids come back to the past.)

I feel like putting Desmond next to Robin when Chrome and the others find them together might muddy the whole ‘Robin has amnesia’ thing and Desmond would have to deal with the fact that (1) he doesn’t know Robin at all and (2) people keep assuming that since they were found together, there must be a connection.

So we’re going a different route and Desmond is found by the river a few months since the end of ‘act 1’. This way, Desmond would have a bit of time to connect with the team in a more or less peaceful situation.

Desmond remains with them because he was found in the same place that Emmeryn fell and some people believe that he might hold a clue to why they haven’t found Emmeryn’s body at all. Desmond doesn’t feign amnesia, instead actually saying that this isn’t his world.

And they believe him because this is a world where magic exists so why not?

So when Act 2 officially starts, Desmond is part of the Shepherds because he’s gotten close to them.

Then Lucina talks to Desmond after she becomes part of the team and tells him that he was summoned by someone she trusted in the bad future she came from.

To be more exact, there was someone who came to their world and helped them travel back in time in exchange for helping him pull Desmond into their world when they travel.

The plan was for Desmond to appear with their benefactor but it seemed that something went wrong and Desmond appeared in another place instead.

Lucina believes that he appeared near where a relative of hers was because her blood was used to pull Desmond from his world before he died. According to Lucina, her blood was necessary for reasons unknown to even her.

(If we go for chrobin route, it’s because Lucina has the blood of Grima running through her veins as Robin was the vessel of Grima. Grima is their connection because Grima is what is the most similar to an Isu, Morgan’s blood was not used because Lucina would not allow her younger brother to bear the pain of being used as part of the summoning ritual)

And the name of their benefactor?

He only told them to call him ‘Clay’.

[blindbeta]

Hi! Sorry for the long ask, I just want to be thorough when providing context.

I'm writing a fanfic for Ace Attorney, which has two blind characters, both of whom became blind through traumatic incidents in-canon.

The first's cause of blindness is tied into the plot, so I can't change that, but I am working on making his experience with blindness/low vision more specific and clear (and I have a few threads I'm looking into on that point already!). This isn't about him.

My question is about the second, Thalassa. Her situation is a lot more malleable. She was a magician, with her father as the head of her troup, until an act went wrong and a bullet hit her head. Her father sent her away to a far-off hospital and told others that the accident killed rather than injured her. We don't see her until years later, but the result is blindness and total loss of previous episodic memory, seemingly with no other side effects. She becomes a famous singer in her new life, but her blindness is kept a secret from all her fans and is treated as a twist in the attorney’s case by the narrative. Her child co-star helps her as a guide, or at least is implied to, and pretends to be the blind one instead as a cover (??? I do not understand this set-up). Her amnesia is a huge plot point, because her old life was connected to multiple main characters, and she no longer knows them. Near the end of the game, she tells the player character that he's inspired her to go through with an eye operation that can restore her sight (and possibly her memory, for some reason??), which she'd previously been hesitant to do because she was afraid to “face her past”.

So, yeah, not great. I think the art not making her eyes clouded when she has CVI might be the only good thing about it.

Anyway, I'm considering changing it so that she was born blind, and that her brain injury has other, unrelated side effects along with more general amnesia, and completely cutting the whole “oh, I was afraid to let myself see, but you have inspired me, sighted person, to take the risks so I can Fix Myself” thing.

I think it would be good to have a character who's born blind, and for a character whose brain injury did more than episodic amnesia. And ofc if I do go that route, I'll research what realistic symptoms are, and what side effects I should include.

For the twist reveal of her blindness, though… Maybe just make her blindness public knowledge? I don't really get why it was a secret in the first place, tbh…

So, do these sound like good solutions? Is there something I've missed that you think I should consider before committing to them?

Also, do you think her being a celebrity might affect her ability to connect with the blind community where she lives? I don't want her to be alone, the way canon seems to imply, but I'm also not sure how to handle this aspect of her character.

Thanks for all you do, and I hope you have a lovely day!

I accidentally posted this instead of saving to drafts. Please kindly wait until I can come back to this.

[tristarnova]

Here’s my idea for what happened to the seven human souls as well as chara in my interpretation of Undertale, these are mostly my headcanons.

Chara: 1st to fall, fell down the mountain in an attempt to “disappear”, due to poor life on the surface, was found by Asriel, and became part of the royal family, lived with them for around five years, before enacting the plan, dying in their teens, and as we know that plan went wrong, and lead to asgore’s plan to get the human souls.

Patience: 2nd to fall into the underground, has blonde hair, and was the youngest out of the humans given the toy knife, fell into the underground while playing hide and seek, either didn’t get far past the ruins, or managed to get to asgore, was planning on staying with toriel, died to either asgore or someone else.

Bravery: 3rd to fall into the underground, fell into the underground due to taking a dare, outfit leans towards masculine in my opinion, regardless of gender identity, was one of oldest out of them, left toriel, due to bravery, died in snowdin or early waterfall, was killed and delivered to asgore by gerson.

Integrity: 4th to fall into the underground, was a ballet dancer, choose cinnamon, fell into the underground due to various reasons, was a pacifist in the ruins, before causing the snowdin incident in self defense, causing most of the monsters to end up as Amalgamates, was killed by axis, and ended up in chujin’s hand, their soul was given to asgore by ceroba, after kanako fell down, gerson quit after the snowdin incident.

Perseverance: 5th to fall into the underground, is near sighted but was also a nerd and otaku, couldn’t choose, very indecisive, was a pacifist through and through, made it barely to hotland, but was either killed by gerson, or killed by undyne, and delivered to asgore by her, items found by gerson after they dropped them in a panic.

Kindness: 3rd to last human to fall, was looking for ingredients on mount ebbot, I say oldest out of the kids, choose butterscotch, changed the opinions on the humans for the monsters, due to their kindness, took the dunes route, instead of the normal route, and made it to asgore, went full pacifist, and gave their soul to them, shaking their resolve.

Clover: penultimate human to fall, is American and southern, loves cowboy movies, teenager, chooses cinnamon, as we know, fell intentionally due to looking for the other humans that fell, and in my opinion, did a neutral into non flawed pacifist run, genocide exists as an alternate timeline, was revived after the events of true pacifist.

Frisk: last human to fall, fell around a year or so after clover fell, was an orphan, fell for unknown reasons, got a concussion, and has amnesia about life on the surface, couldn’t choose, had chara as their narrator, did pre pacifist neutral into true pacifist, breaking the barrier, choose to stay with toriel.

[oneknightstand-if]

Wait, how did that other anon get that flavor text about the whisper with a amnesiac secret MC? My guess is that's not available for the public demo atm? But I'm so so curious now as someone who's playing that route.

Since it included the code itself, I would think they went code-diving through the game for that. Also, that flavor text is ooooold.

It's part of the original update when the game was first released and uses the old (secret = "amnesia") coding (which I got tired of pretty quick and shortened to just "liar" in more recent sections.