#ya know click the stick to lock on flick the stick to change targets

[b0tster]

Okay so as someone who has never played an AC game, and only has passing familiarity with souls-like games, do you think it'd be enjoyable if I was only into mechs? Is it more Mechwarrior plodding big pew pews or is it basically a sekiro reskin?

in terms of gameplay its vaguely soulsy but it is def a big pew pew game first and foremost! i havent played mechwarrior but i think you would enjoy it!

[wilhelmjfink]

November (pt. 1)

So November is a really hard month for me for several reasons. I try to be open about it now in hopes of helping others who felt the way I did! In 2010 when I was a freshman in hs I attempted suicide November 9th. I spent a week and a half in the psych ward and was in extensive therapy after that and still am to this day and that “it gets better” BS is SO cliche but shit, it’s true... so herr we are...

Naturally they went straight to meds and I spent a lot of time sick & drugged out like WAY beyond anything I could’ve comprehended. So I struggled a LOT with horrible nightmares due to different medications after that and I still do now.. But I’ll take scary dreams over any of that any day. 

November remains a dismal time for me so I channeled all of those feelings into a story (cuz I can do that now thanks to @crossbowking) so here is a rapid, confusing story about conflicting inner emotions and high functioning manic bi polar disorder and major depression. There are your warnings. Enjoy my inner turmoil ❤️ I tried to make this uncommon and use a plot line that wasn’t already used before that I saw! Xoxox

PS I’m REAL bad with present/past tense shit so humor me ok thanks 

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, although everyone else had been convinced it was just another irrational worry of yours. And as you jog through the frozen woods searching for footprints or tire tracks or anything, you were fueled by fear knowing that Daryl was never late just because.

So when you come up on a long imprint of tire tread that jolted sideways and slid, leading you to a familiar overturned motorcycle that lay tipped over on its side abandoned in the snow, you about scream your heart out right then and there. 

The bike is lodged against a dead tree trunk that prevented it from tumbling down the hill behind it into a deep ravine, a big ditch of various whites and browns and the sound of rushing water. The front tire still rotates slowly, suspended in the air; you tried to focus on the minuscule relief you felt knowing that it had to have crashed pretty recently at least if it’s still moving, right?

You waste no time diving over the bike, sliding uncontrollably down the side of the steep ravine wall rather than gracefully scaling it like you intended to. You land harshly at the bottom, falling forward onto your hands and knees in the frozen riverbed, pebbles and rocks and Ice jabbing through your  thin gloves like shards of glass. And you know for sure that it will all really hurt later, but right now you’re so fucking scared so scared that your adrenaline won’t let you even think about it right now. 

You spot what you immediately recognize as his body laying motionless some feet away. Your heart literally stops and words lodged in your throat for a second, and the fucking fear you feel... it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

“Fuck, Daryl!” You finally clamber to your feet, slipping in the mud and trudging through the not-quite knee deep waters, the bitter cold instantly soaking your boots and clothes.  

“Daryl!” You call out again and again actually hoping to catch the attention of the four waterlogged walkers that are stumbling toward him where he lay just barely on dry land and out of the water flat on his back, not moving, and with an arrow sticking out of his side. Your breath comes out in white puffs in front of you and even through Daryl’s layers of clothing you can see the blood staining his jacket. His crossbow sticks out from a snow bank several feet away. You can’t tell if his head lulls or if it’s just wishful thinking.  “Hey! Hey!”

When the first walker spots you and changes his target to you instead, you fumble blindly at your side for your holster that isn’t in its rightful place on your hip.

“Shit,” you whip around and quickly spot it back on the bank where you’d fallen, the metal contrasting the white snow it lay in. You’re frustrated now because running in water is fucking stupid hard, especially when you’re already freezing, and when you finally manage to snag your pistol and unholster it with almost numb fingers, you aim and flick off the safety just as the first walker stumbles over itself and face plants into the water in front of you, successfully colliding with your barrel as it lands. 

The shot misses, hitting the ground to the left of where it lands. You curse again, your sights locking on the other three walkers that have still taken an interest in Daryl. 

You fire two shots rapidly, the first one hitting its chest and the second one it’s skull,  and then watch in horror as it falls forward on top of Daryl and the the other two fall of top of him, still alive.

“No!”

The scream rips through your throat and hurts like fire, echoing through the stillness of winter around you and bouncing off of the ravine walls and trees. In a panic now you completely drop your gun while you scramble over to him as fast as you absolutely can and you’re already positive it just isn’t fast enough. 

As soon as you’re close enough you throw yourself into the dog pile, noticing at the very last second how Daryl seems to stir. But it’s too late to do anything about it, because you catch the top two bodies — one alive, one dead — and the three of you tumble down the slate drop off and sink like stones to the bottom of the cold water.  

It knocks the wind right out of your lungs and for a second, you’re paralyzed.  It takes  you some time to gather your bearings, finding the surface while you’re tossed around by the current, tangling with a heavy body that you can’t decide is alive or not. 

Your heavy winter clothes are quickly soaked and act as anchors, holding you prisoner underneath the rushing water. Amidst all of the fear and panic you’re faced with, you can’t seem to stop worrying about Daryl.

 By the time you resubmerge your body is so fucking cold that the gasp of oxygen you desperately inhale pains you, like you were swallowing electricity and letting it settle inside of your body while it burns every inch of you, inside and out. 

                                                                 ~

You finally drag yourself out of the river, slipping and sliding with little grip on the wet rocks, until you’re finally out and able to lay flat on your back and catch your breath. 

The obnoxious clicking you hear turns out to be your own chattering teeth and you can hear yourself gasping audibly while trying to breathe but you can’t help it because it’s so fucking cold. So fucking cold that it hurts. 

All you want is to find Daryl and make sure he’s okay, then you remember the last thing you saw was two walkers falling on top of him as he laid unconscious. 

So you were pretty positive he wasn’t okay. 

You can’t tell if it’s the cold air or the absolute feeling of disbelief that washes over you that renders you useless but you just lay still, staring up at the endless gray sky, too cold to move and too cold to scream and cry.

Daryl is gone. 

Your heart hurts. 

It really, physically hurts. 

The dull ache turns violent when it tries to function, like a broken bone inside of your chest. You want to scream and cry and fucking thrash around to try and relieve the pressure that was building up inside of you, threatening to boil over and send you whirling out of control.

But you were just so cold. 

How do you expect to make the trip back like this? 

You would be fine with just freezing to death here, actually. Less painful than having to live through this shit world without Daryl by your side to help you and tell you to chill out because everything would be fine. It wasn’t going to be fine. Nothing was going to be fucking fine. 

And even if you could make it back, how did you plan to just tell them you let Daryl get eaten? What would they think? You were better off dead than without him, anyway.

It was dark when you stirred next, the silent snow falling around you eerily nostalgic, the flakes landing gently on your skin and eyelashes and disappearing when you blinked. 

Sitting upright you felt like a board, so stiff and immobile, and your body ached with every movement and your head throbbed with every beat of your heart. 

It was quickly becoming nighttime, the last of the suns rays barely lighting the forest around you. You were confused, dazed, completely out of it and unaware of your surroundings or the frostbite that was setting into your limbs dangerously fast. Despite not being able to feel it, it loomed over you like the dark and heavy clouds above your head, and when you pushed yourself to your feet to take your first few steps, you quickly collapsed back into the snow. 

Your fingers couldn’t bend, your toes couldn’t move. Your extremities wouldn’t listen to your brain and so you crawled, blissfully unaware of the snow that was soaking through your already drenched gloves, burning your numb fingers so violently that you couldn’t feel it at all. 

Eventually you couldn’t crawl anymore. So you collapsed down onto the frozen ground, chest heaving, body screaming, head swimming. Dizzy. Confused. Tired. So tired... so, so tired. 

“C’mon, girl, getcher ass up.”

You shifted uncomfortably, shaking off the weight that was trying to get you up and away from the comfort of sleep. You know, you haven’t had a migraine in years, thankfully, but you had one from hell today and you didn’t want to have to wake up for anything... especially work. 

You swatted the hand away, refusing to move for your boyfriend as he sighs — he was even harder to get out of bed in the morning than you are, you remember bitterly — when the voice came back even louder than before.

“Fuck’s sake, woman, come on! Are ya serious right now?”

You felt a surge of energy in your bones that stemmed from the anger that rendered, and were prepared to sit up and lash out when you opened your eyes and realized you were not in your fucking bed. 

“Patrick...?” You mumbled for your boyfriend into the bright white above you. When your vision settled and you blinked through the pain, you were looking up at bare tree limbs blanketed in snow. Not your ceiling. Not your boyfriend.  Not your warm, cozy bed. 

“Real nice,” the familiar voice beside you muttered — now obviously not your boyfriend. “Nah, it’s me. Get up n’ lets go.”

“Ouch, whew, that stung a lil’!” Another voice howled from somewhere around you so loudly it made you flinch. “Isn’t ‘at her ol’ man’s name? Ha!”

“Shut it, Merle,” the first man growled, eliciting a chuckle from the other man. Daryl — your brain was racking itself to decipher who that was. Why the fuck didn’t you recognize his voice? What the fuck were him and Merle doing there? Wasn’t it just Patrick who was shaking you awake? Were you drunk? 

“Ya just gonna lay there n’ daydream, or what?”

“She ain’t comin’ with us,” Merle stated matter of factly. You subconsciously rolled your eyes — didn’t you lose him on a roof like a week ago? They must’ve found him. Where the fuck did his hand go?

When your eyes found finally found Daryl, he was standing at your feet, his boot nudging the sole of yours impatiently. You just groaned. 

“Come on!”

It was weird — he looked so much older than you remembered: his hair was much longer, shabbier, down to his shoulders now. He’d filled out more — he was more muscular, his eyes darker. He has a thick poncho on, too, despite it being, what, 90° in Georgia? He didn’t look like the Daryl you knew anymore and it didn’t sit well with you. Especially because Merle looked the same as you remembered him; almost as if he hadn’t aged a day. Despite his hand being replaced with a blade.

“Just leave ‘er there, man! She obviously ain’t gonna get up. She don’t wanna come with ya! Didn’t ya just hear her call out for ‘at other guy?” He laughed. “Or did I jus’ imagine that?”

Daryl was staring down at you pointedly, as if he was trying to figure out what you were thinking. But you didn’t even know what you were thinking. Everything was too bright and too loud and your head was foggy, the world was tilting around you. Stupid migraines. Everything hurt. But you wanted Daryl to stay, to hold you and tell you everything was fine.

“D...?” You really wanted to speak but you couldn’t form any words, your mouth dry and unwilling to move other than your teeth that you couldn’t get to stop occasionally chattering, despite being so fucking overheated and sweaty. So cold. What the fuck was wrong with you? “Don’t...”

“She don’t want ya,” Merle was suddenly much closer to you, inches away from your face, sneering down at you. Daryl remained behind him, eyes darting between the two of you. You felt like he was looking right through you. “Ah, ‘sa real shame, too. I bet she was a real treat under the sheets, lil’ brother. Ha! Can’t wait for you to tell me all ‘bout it.” He elbowed Daryl, who shoved him off before turning and stepping away from you. No, no. You tried to reach for him but your arms felt like lead. You couldn’t even tell Merle to shut the fuck up and god that was all you fucking wanted to do! “Good for you, Darlina.”

“Man, shut up and le’s go.”

No! Was Daryl really just going to leave you there? Paralyzed and hurt or frozen or whatever you were — helpless and afraid and alone? You tried to scream for him, plead for him to come back and help you, hold you, anything. But Merle trotted up behind him, throwing his arm around him harshly, and leading him away from you. 

“Daryl...” You finally choked out, though feeling like you had a mouth full of marbles or cotton, preventing you from crying and screaming like you wanted to. “Daryl! Please...”

But he was gone.

You didn’t even know what you were doing but you wanted to give up on it. Quit and not feel anything. Not have to deal with anymore. No more loss. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. 

Daryl was somewhere back upstream. And he was probably a walker by then, if there was even anything left of him. 

Fuck, it hurt. It hurt so bad. 

It didn’t seem real. You had seen him brush with death so many times and he always came out unscathed — it was just what he did. He just seemed to avoid death. Like he wasn’t meant to die. He was supposed to be okay and be strong for everybody else. This world needed him — you fucking needed him. 

Whatever realm of purgatory you were stuck in allowed you to feel everything, and somehow, absolutely nothing all at once. You couldn’t feel the cold that was chilling you to the bone, turning your blood to shards of ice that coursed through your veins agonizingly, but you could literally feel your heart that had shriveled up inside of your chest, trying desperately to resume its regular beat,  like everything was fine and you were okay and Daryl was okay, and just failing miserably. 

You couldn’t picture anything but his eyes; it was always funny to you how he was so closed off and dark and angry but those blue eyes, God, they were the brightest, most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. And his small smirk, a smile that he’d flash so quickly sometimes you were sure it was your mind playing tricks on you. The light, breathy chuckle that only you could seem to elicit from him, when it was just the two of you. 

You felt like you were floating, weightless, surrounded by dark water that both cooled you off and lit you on fire at the same time. It was a peaceful ignorance, to feel no physical harm, no  sickness or fear, but you were happy once you remembered how to move, and all you could manage to do was curl yourself into a ball and tuck your head in and hide away and dig your nails into your skin just to feel something and you screamed your fucking lungs out. 

It felt good to finally be able to let something out of your tightly wound soul; unfortunately it didn’t relieve the weight that was resting on your shoulders and crushing you until you felt minuscule and broken and worthless. You were so, so angry. 

You screamed until your throat was raw and you were sure you could taste blood. And it was bittersweet, remembering you that you were very much alive somehow, but very much alone.

So alone.

Maybe your unconscious would swallow you whole and you could live inside of your own head forever. 

Every time you made a noise there was a bolt of lightning in your throat and you gasped for breath, dragging your fingers through your hair, tangling themselves carelessly amongst the strands and emerging with knots of it stuck in your dull, bloody fingernails. 

Why? Why? How did you get here? Why did have Daryl leave you?

You screamed again. “You fucking asshole. I hate you! I hate you!”

Now you were sure you could feel him holding you, if you didn’t know any better. His grip was definitely holding you down, holding you back the way it would before when you’d playfully or otherwise try to run and he would quickly catch you. You’d laugh and sometimes he’d even kiss you. Did those memories even happen, or did you make it all up?

“I fucking hate you! Why did you have to leave? Why did you fucking leave me? I needed you. I still need you. I need you, please come back. Please don’t go. Please say something...”

Though you jumped when he answered you back. 

“Y/N?”

The sweetest sound you’d ever heard. Frantically you searched for the source of the voice, unable to find anything in the vast brightness of the world you were stuck in. Empty and bright. Where the fuck were you?

There was nobody there with you. But it was him. He was there. And you needed to fucking find him. 

“Daryl!” You were yelling into thin air. But he sounded alive, so he had to be alive, and was he going to leave with Merle again? Had that not happened yet, and you had the opportunity to try and prevent it? You clambered to your feet. “Daryl? ...Don’t go — please don’t go with Merle. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you... I’m so sorry.” 

Silence. 

“Daryl? Where are you? Please, come back!” The words began spilling out of your mouth with the tears and you just tucked yourself back into a ball because you just wanted to be as small as possible and disappear. It’s your fault you were stuck there anyway. “I’m so sorry, Daryl. I’m so sorry.” 

Who were you kidding? 

He would leave you — everyone did eventually. He would go with Merle. Gone. Just like that.

No, wait, you killed him... 

“Y/N!”

Your head snapped up — he’d come back for you! 

But he sounded confused or lost or in trouble. It worries you. Or maybe you were dead too, and you were in your own personal hell and you were about to watch him getting eaten alive by those walkers. No, no, no, no, please, not Again. 

You pushed yourself back up and screamed for him as loud as you could. 

“Y/N, relax.”

He was holding you again, trying to pull you somewhere else from where you wanted to stay standing until you dropped. So you tried to shrug him off, tried to fight the invisible force that held you back, until it finally gave way and you tumbled and hit the ground with a grunt. 

There was somebody else there with you. You could feel it. 

Rolling over you saw the first walker, grotesque and gray and bloodied, it’s jaws snapping as it meandered toward you. 

It slowly got closer and closer and closer and you just sat there, waiting for it to get closer. But why?

It got close enough. It was Daryl.  

You didn’t want horrified scream to tear its way through your already raw lungs and throat as he stumbled forward, falling onto you and grasping you with those cold, boney fingers. He was not your Daryl. Not you’re Daryl. Not your Daryl. 

You wrestled him frantically, looking anywhere else to avoid catching sight of those yellow eyes. It wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him. It wasn’t Daryl. There was no way, he couldn’t have died. He wouldn’t turn into one of those monsters even if he did. He was too strong. Too smart. He couldn’t die. He just couldn’t. 

You screamed his name a hundred times it seemed, trying to get him to wake up and respond to you, to snap out of that trance and go back to normal. 

But when you looked back up at it, using all of your strength to keep it hovering over your body as it flailed and wriggled and barred it’s teeth at you menacingly, hungry. Starved. Dead. It really was him. Your best friend.  Your best fucking friend. Why? You had loved him with everything that you had, tried so hard to keep him safe as he did you, you just wants to rescue him when he didn’t come back by dusk that fateful night, and it wasn’t enough. You had known something was wrong that day. 

Tears blurred your vision and they were warm and stung your cheeks as they fell. You stopped struggling. You let his body fall on you, deadweight, and sink his rotted, yellow teeth into your neck.

Confused?? Good. Stay tuned for pt. 2 :-)

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