#and isn’t that the people they’re supposedly doing this for? for the little guys and underdogs—

[thatmooncake]

I am genuinely confused on what Moon is supposed to be. The cookbook basically says he sucks. However in the security breach DLC Cassie says she slept better in the daycare so that's gotta mean Moon was good at being the nighttime attendant. So like why would the cookbook portray them as sucky if they were good at their job as nighttime attendant?

But then there are the complaints you can read about in security breach where Moon is scaring kids (but that's when the virus started right? Or no? I am not familiar with the new fnaf lore).

But then there's also the fact where Moon played the villain when they used to be in the theatre (I say fact but I am not actually sure if this is cannon or just a popular headcanon that I am confusing for cannon)

I haven't even read the books yet so I am not sure how they characterize Moon there. I figured I would ask you since you seem to like Moon a lot and know way more about them than I do. Sorry for bugging ye

No bugging done here :) my take on this is that it’s all a matter of the perspective - so for characters like Moon you’ll get some things painting them in a bad light and others more favourable.

(More explanation under the cut as I tend to get carried away when it comes to character analysis)

So generally speaking the FNAF games and books heavily play into the “creepy” “uncanny” aspects of the characters - it’s a horror franchise, it’s gonna play up any spoopy vibes it can and in Moon’s case sadly he gets the short end of the stick because he’s depicted as the darker half of Sun, so a lot of general descriptions will point out how Sun is the good one and Moon is the evil one and leave it at that. However, that doesn’t mean that’s as far as Moon’s characterisation goes or that that’s all he’s intended to be.

The FNAF guidebooks and cookbooks and stuff are written for a broad general audience who aren’t necessarily hardcore FNAF fans but maybe just like the vibes of FNAF, so when those books mention the characters in passing they’re like cameos playing up to what you see if you casually play the game (like “you better watch out, Moon’s gonna get you” “Sun turns evil when the lights go out” - that kind of thing).

The Ruin descriptions are from Cassie’s perspective, and Cassie likes the animatronics and clearly isn’t all that creeped out by them. Could be something to do with her dad working on them making her more curious and less frightened of the way they work and all the “uncanny” vibes other people are getting from them. Either way, it definitely adds more nuance and tells us Moon wasn’t written just to be the evil side of Sun, even if a lot of descriptions and cameos play to that.

In the Tales of the Pizzaplex book, The Bobbiedots (spoilers ahead) Moon is written to be the darker side of Sun that staff in that pizzaplex tried to erase when Sun was updated from being a theatre bot. Even in the theatre, Bobbiedots Moon was the stricter side telling people they’ve been naughty and need to go to bed. This was all a theatre gimmick using the lights and would likely use Sun as kind of a playmate but then he turns into Moon, and suddenly he’s chasing you telling you you’ve been naughty. The thing is, I think some kids would have kind of loved villain Moon. I mean, kids (and adults) generally like booing pantomime villains, they love when they come onstage and tell them they’re all naughty and need to do what they say. I don’t think Moon’s theatre persona necessarily took away from his being liked or made him a bad guy offstage, it just made him inconvenient to staff as a daycare attendant because of power outages they were too cheap to fix. Honestly, I think that characterisation says a lot more about how cheap Fazco were than how evil Moon was destined to be.

Then in another tale, Somniphobia, we have (spoilers ahead) Moondrop and his dream sphere. So two things about this one: Moondrop, the little Moon inside the dream sphere that seems to look a bit like a snowglobe and supposedly “helps you study” (toootally not a ploy for some soul stealing) …he is never strict, he is never harsh, he never tells you what to do. Getting sucked inside the dream sphere is entirely a matter of getting in too deep on our protagonist’s side. He’s given several opportunities to put the thing down and gets called out for overdoing it by basically most of his friends and family yet he never stops because the dreams are too enticing. Moondrop just takes him with him for the ride. It should be said that the dream sphere in the book is wildly popular as a prize and teens love it as a study aid because it literally takes you (in your head) to historical places like ancient Egypt and to the bottom of the ocean etc. it’s just very addictive. So basically Moondrop in this story is neither good nor bad, he’s just a lure. He even takes the guy by the hand at the end - if anything, he’s a quiet and gentle and reassuring presence, for better or worse.

Moon in Security Breach absolutely scares some of the kids - and chances are, so does Sun.

Here’s the Fazwatch message about the daycare attendant:

“Night Terrors CUSTOMER COMPLAINT -

My son never had sleeping problems. But after spending an evening in the daycare, he refuses to sleep with the lights out anymore! He just cries. And then when I do let him keep the lights on, he wets the bed!”

Poor kid can’t win either way. (This message absolutely could mean that the kid can only sleep with the lights on but still has nightmares about Moon - or it could mean neither of them provided a reassuring presence for the kid. Maybe Moon hunted them for sport. Maybe both Sun and Moon’s mannerisms creeped the kid out. For all we know Sun insisting on the lights being on in a dark tone and forcing the kid to remain in his sight might have terrified the kid. There’s really no clear cut way of telling but we do know from this message that the daycare isn’t going great for some kids.)

And then in contrast to this is Cassie’s message about the daycare - sounds like she loved it there both at playtime and naptime. So this is definitely a point against Moon just being pure evil. I really think the guy got a bad rap in Security Breach due to the virus - he has a ton of merch and a whole line of candies. Would you eat a candy based around a guy who’s always trying to kill you? Would you hug a plush of a guy who’s just pure evil?

I think Moon was very convenient for Afton and Vanny since he’s pretty strong, fairly graceful, operates great at night and he basically has a retrieval protocol to get naughty kids to go to bed. Tell him everything is a naughty kid who needs to go to bed and he’ll round up anyone who’s acting out of line because the virus insists he has to. Make him hurt whenever the lights are on (and we know it hurts him intensely, he says as much in Ruin) and he’ll fight ferociously against Sun for his freedom to stop the pain, and won’t listen when Sun tells him something is wrong. Sun kind of confirms Moon isn’t evil in Ruin by insisting they need to be whole. And Moon isn’t trying to be evil in Ruin, he’s in pain and can’t stop himself. Once Eclipse is activated, Moon (as well as Sun) can start healing.

So in summary I think that basically if Moon makes a cameo appearance, it will usually be as “the dark side of Sun”, but that isn’t all he’s supposed to be and the writing shows there is supposed to be reasoning behind his actions and contradictions to the idea that he’s just a bad guy.

#moondrop #fableasks #sorry if this ain’t entirely coherent or comprehensive I’m fighting a bug myself so I know like a tenth of what Moon feels lmao #I do dig evil moon too I just don’t think that’s all there is to him #also thanks for the ask I love characterisation and analysis

[t0ast-ghost]

S2 Episode 16 (The Gamesters Of Triskelion) is supposedly a very good episode.

Time to find out why:

- “Star date thirty two eleven point seven.” Good ass star date

- “astrogation station.” This man is just rhyming today

- OH DAMN THEY JUST GOT YOINKED

- This is a really intriguing hook, also interesting that they have Uhura, Chekov, and Kirk as the main pairing this episode

- oh wait a minute. Is this the one where Kirk gets collared? This that why you guys like it? C’mon…

- This man is weird

- Chekov like “no one’s hurt… yet” WHATRE YOU GONNA DO? He’s like an angry small dog

- They just switched the shot to him being collared. I was. Not prepared.

- Damn this is a scary episode for Kirk

- “Hope? I always thought that was a human failing, Mr Spock.” “True, Doctor. Constant exposure does result in a certain degree of contamination.” Guys. Guys, this isn’t the time to be flirting. Can you please stop. Just.

- “Don’t quote odds and don’t give me anymore dispassionate logic, Mr. Spock. Just keep looking for them.” “I would welcome a suggestion, Doctor, even an emotional one, as to where to look.” “First time you ask me for anything and it has to be an occasion like this.” They both care so much. Spock is so worried, he just cannot actually do anything. McCoy is upset and he wants to be upset at Spock or at least see it reflected back by him. Spock asking for advice shows him just the position Spock is in

- WHAT THE FUCKWHAT THE FUCK THEY DID NOT

- oh okay what what what what

- This is reminding me of the pilot

- THEYRE HARNESSING HIM?!

- I like when they switch back to the enterprise where we get anger (McCoy), confusion (Scotty), and panic (Spock)

- The weapons training scene makes them look like a bunch of theatre kids

- Kirk being put in the situation of having to protect his people in these impossible circumstances

- Get him Kirk! He got in a little kick

- His little kick with the roll

- “Hold.” God? You there? It’s me Margaret Armen

- Kirk’s little curl <3

- He’s got his tits out now

- Curiousity killed the cat, Kirk.

- ew Kirk, ew

- Spock asserting dominance. McCoy does not like to lose in their arguments

- WOAH KIRK TF! You just knocked her out! Okay fair enough for escape and all

- McCoy and Spock ready to go save their idiot boyfriend yippee :))

- Hearing McCoy’s “what the devils going on?” Over the god comm is so funny

- They’re little coloured brains. I’d like to play with them like a chew toy.

- Kirk wagering all of the enterprise is crazy.

- ‘Mr. Spock, look! It’s Jim in a harness.’

- I like Spock’s sitting position

- She got his ass. He would not survive.

I like her final words they’re beautifully said and hopeful but sad. OMG SHE LOOKS LIKE AN OOMPA LOOMPA

Masterpost

Episode written by Margaret Armen

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #tos spock #captain james kirk #tos kirk #leonard bones mccoy #tos bones #tos mccoy #pavel chekov #tos chekov

[morporkian-cryptid]

Hey, y’all wanna see some more Very Inadvisable Gun Practices by Daisuke “Supposedly The Best Gunman In The World” Jigen,

the same absolute madman who brought us timeless classics like “shooting over your shoulder with the hammer right next to your ear”, “shoving a loaded gun into your waistband”, "twirling a loaded gun by the trigger guard", and of course “using the wrong ammo for so long that your gun just blows up into pieces and buries itself into some guy’s chest”?

-cracks knuckles-

Suppose you are stranded in the Middle Ages (thanks Mamou); Middle Ages People have stolen your gun and used up all the bullets, before kindly returning the now useless gun to you. Do you:

Use your gun to bash people on the head

Acquire a crossbow or perhaps a slingshot

Forge new bullets out of some random metal you melted over a campfire and poured into a hole in a block of wood, then shove them into your used bullet cases, presumably with some gunpowder that you just found somewhere

WHY, OPTION C OF FUCKING COURSE!

I sent these pictures to J (@whosayscrimedoesntpay), my Friend Who Knows Guns™, and he was kind enough to give me a detailed run-down of what exactly is wrong with Jigen. I will now hand the keyboard over to him, so he can explain why, in his own words, “there’s… so much wrong here… so much…”

What the fuck is that metal? Why are you able to melt it over a normal fire?? Why doesn’t the powder flash deform it if that’s the case?

How did you just… find a bullet-shaped hole?? Did you make it?? How did you do that so it was the right size and shape? The wood grain would affect the aerodynamics!

Pouring water on it is just a questionable idea in terms of physics. It could cool weird and possibly deform, if not have water trapped in it.

WHY DOES HE HAVE NO BULLETS, BUT SPARE BULLET CASINGS? [NB: the answer is that he had the spent cases from already fired bullets, which sent J into even more hysterics]

SAME FOR THE POWDER [NB from your local Japan History Nerd™: this movie takes place in the early 1500; firearms were introduced to Japan in 1300 so it’s not completely impossible that Jigen would have acquired some, but then again the villagers there were very clearly established to Not Have Firearms, so…]

Is he… hammering it?? Into the case?? With a rough object?? Risking deforming the bullet?? See point 2 for my point about aerodynamics.

If he doesn’t have spare cases and he’s just using old ones that he’s spent already, no he’s not. THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKS.

Expanding on point 7: the whole way a bullet works is the hammer hits the base of the case, either on the rim (the flared bit) or on the center (no flare on those so these are likely rimfire, unless the animators don’t know that either) [NB: .357 Magnum bullets have a flare on the base, so yes the animators did indeed get that wrong.]

That silver bit in the middle of the base houses the “primer”, which is the thing that initially causes the heat/spark that sets off the powder. Depending on if your gun/ammo is rimfire or centrefire, the pin will either strike the rim or the center. On the picture of the spent case (on the right) you can see a dent in the little silver bit.

If they’re spent, you can’t just reuse the exact same case. The primer in the rim/center is spent. You can’t replace that.

Well, technically you can reuse centrefire cases, but you have to replace the bullet (which Jigen did, very badly), the powder (did he?? We didn’t see him do it) and the primer (same here). In the end, the only problem Jigen had with these bullets in the movie is that the aim was very bad, even though the fact that his gun even fires at all goes against the laws of physics.

--------

TL;DR: Jigen is once again defying both science and gun logic. According to J, it basically boils down to “even if the metal is suitable (which it isn’t) and the bullet is made correctly (which it isn’t) and he just… has gunpowder up his ass, he STILL needs a new primer”.

Thank you for tuning in to this new installment of “Daisuke Jigen should not, in fact, be trusted with a gun”!

#lupin iii #daisuke jigen #lupin iii : elusiveness of the fog #the hobbit rambles #elliott's nerd corner #i need a proper tag for these posts #gun trivia

[duckiemimi]

i really don't wanna be that person but what is your thoughts on gojou with utahime as a pairing? like no hate to anyone that likes to ship them but i just don't see the significance in this relationship, especially since it feels like a reach when they try to compare utahime with geto for example, saying they have similarities supposedly, which?? utahime in general is like a typical girl from a manga that people seem to project onto because she has this tsukkomi vibes or something? like the whole dislike towards gojo is disregarded and treated as a joke despite adults in jjk are obviously capable of putting aside their distaste of one another to work for the greater good if goals aling. i honestly think these two work better as allies because they have rather sibling like type of dynamic. and i didn't mean for this to get so long and overboard but i needed to share and i hope you'll have some thoughts along the way because i really enjoy your theories and metas. have a good one :)

before i start, disclaimer: if you like gojohime, by all means, ship it! there’s nothing wrong with shipping two characters you think go together, so as long as you don’t pick unnecessary fights about it!

now let’s start.

i think i don’t see the appeal in gojohime because i see no chemistry between them. they’re professional coworkers who might even be acquaintances once in a while to me.

i think what i truly dislike, though, is how utahime is portrayed in the ship. if a woman says she doesn’t like a man, then she doesn’t like a man! but even through a reader’s standpoint, while these are fictional characters in a story we can find wholly knowable because they are readable (unlike in-real-life humans), there is no evidence to suggest that utahime even likes gojo. they work well together and that’s it.

i think because we don’t see much of utahime in the story, it becomes easy to see what isn’t there. most of her on-screen interactions with gojo, if not in tepid professional manner, are fiery, with her becoming defensive and quick to anger. i think many shippers read this as utahime becoming flustered and perhaps they see her as the quintessential “tsundere” who shows affection through irritability. if anything, though, i think we should consider the fact that teenage gojo used to blatantly call her weak and it’s definitely affected their dynamic as adults. utahime could still be a little resentful, and i don’t think gojo realizes this.

you also have to remember that gojo isn’t the most likable person (not character) in the series. nanami is not entirely fond of him, and neither are most of his students. they care for him, and they might love him, but he’s not an easy guy to get along with. it isn’t just utahime who finds him “annoying.”

as for the geto and utahime comparisons, they make me giggle a little. is it because geto is objectively the closest person to gojo, and that’s how shippers wished it was for utahime, or is it because they both have dark hair? besides the fact that pre-defection geto and utahime have a sense of duty as sorcerers (which also differ, by the way; their motivations were completely different), they have absolutely no similarities. where did this argument even come from?

i think it’s important to realize that you can ship characters without grasping at barely-there evidence. you don’t owe anyone your ship’s canonicity. you’re allowed to like a ship even if two characters have never even interacted with each other. of course, different people are bound to perceive the story differently, so i guess as long as you don’t pick fights, do whatever you want!

#jjk #gojo satoru #gojo #iori utahime #utahime #jujutsu kaisen #asks #gjhm

[rougepancake]

Longing

Ft. Reiner x F!Marley!Reader

Warnings: Angsty fluff?? But mainly angst. Mentions of emotional trauma and abuse, also sexual harassment, mentions minor character death, you get shot like twice. Buckle up kiddos. I did my best lol.

Slightly proofread!

Summary: You and Reiner are both so different, yet so similar, both soldiers fighting for a cause that no one truly understands and children who want nothing that to rest. You have found comfort in confiding in one another, even if it’s against the law.

“Hey there sweetie! Who’s ready to go to Eldia with me today?” Your father picked you up and spun you around as you eagerly chanted ‘me, me!’.

It was common for you to accompany your father to patrol Eldia, being forced to watch him ‘keep the streets safe.’ Or at least that’s what he told you. But you knew how much he hated the people of Eldia.

You were nine, not three.

You grabbed his hand and followed him out of the house, wearing a beautiful smile as you waved to strangers on the street. They waved back and went about their days, passing along the childlike wonder you had shared with them.

The guards at the gate nodded in respect as they let you in. However, they ignored your kind wave and stared into the distance. Their behavior reminded you of the conversation you had overheard the last time you were here.

Your father had been paying off his fellow soldiers to prevent you from being exposed to any serious violence. Which made sense as to why the villagers were always happy whenever you were there.

“Oh, oh! What’s going on over there?” You asked excitedly, pointing over to the group of kids that seemed to be training. They looked your age, but you knew you couldn’t play with them. You really wanted to, but you just couldn’t.

“They’re training like you.” He smiled softly, following your gaze. “They’re training to become great warriors with crazy powers.” Your father chuckled, leaning in to tickle you.

“Papa stop it!” You laughed, trying to push him away. Your joyous laughter echoed throughout Eldia, causing the children to stop and stare at you. You felt bad for interrupting them, so you waved.

Only one of the kids waved back at you, a little boy with messy blonde hair who was being dragged around by a slightly taller boy with black hair.

Your father picked you up and placed you onto his shoulders, giving you an amazing view of what life was like at his height. It temporarily distracted you from the idea of your training.

You were nine. Not twelve. Nine. Why were you training anyways? Because your father wanted a son. He was doing his best to turn you into a strong soldier, but these were the years you were supposed to be living to the fullest.

“Come on now sweetie, let’s go meet someone who will change your life.” He began walking, forcing you to hold on to his helmet to avoid falling.

“Woaaah! Change my life?” You asked, secretly confused. Was there anyone in Eldia that was capable of changing your life?

“You bet! Actually, when you finish your training with me, you’ll be seeing this guy a lot!” As you two entered the building, you were met by a young man with sandy blonde hair and round glasses.

“Zeke.” Your father nodded, giving him a glare as you waved enthusiastically. The man nodded back and gave you a small wave. Your father set you down and went to stand in the corner of the room so the two of you could interact.

You were nine. He was seventeen. Quite the age gap for someone who was supposedly going to change your life.

“Papa, how is he going to change my life??” You turned around, confusion written on your face. You heard your father sigh as Zeke stepped forward, taking a knee so he was eye level with you.

“It’s something your father here has set up.” He started, looking over to the corner with slight disgust. “As soon as you’re done training, you and I are going to go on missions together. Maybe even to Paradis.”

“Paradis?!? Isn’t it scary over there??” You were intrigued, your eyes shining with curiosity.

“Yes, but by the time we’re working together, you won’t be afraid.” He reassured, standing back up to let your father know he was done.

You were nine. Nine and already your father planned out the next few years of your life.

Soon, you were ten. Your training had been concluded and your father deemed you strong enough to go out into battle. Ten and already had the blood of innocent people on your hands.

Then, you were eleven, listening intently for any sort of news about the titan shifters who had left for Paradis. Eleven and fearing for the lives of children who were your age.

Your twelfth birthday rolled around and you began to interrogate prisoners of war with Zeke. Your father was now helping you move up in the ranks. Twelve and people already feared you.

When you were thirteen, Zeke left with Pieck Finger, leaving you to work with Porco Galliard, who, at the time, wasn’t even a titan shifter. You led missions with him until you were seventeen.

Seventeen was when everything changed for you.

Reiner and Bertholdt had returned temporarily with a young woman by the name of Ymir. She was to be eaten by Porco. Reiner filled you in about some brat named Eren Yeager and how Zeke planned to deal with things.

A year later, Reiner, Zeke, and Pieck returned with no sign of Bertholdt and Annie. You wanted to comfort them, but you weren’t able to do so. You knew they had been through hell, but you couldn’t say anything to them. Thankfully, Zeke understood. He was a like brother to you, always understanding that this wasn’t the life you wanted anyone to live.

“Right. Tell me more about this Eren Yeager guy.” You leaned against the doorway to the Reiner’s room. He had been restless since he had returned from Paradis, constantly being plagued by night terrors. The other soldiers had hoped you could help him get his shit together, but you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

He looked over at you, surprised to see a Marlean soldier in his doorway.

“O-Oh yeah it’s nothing-“ He stuttered, hoping he wasn’t about to get his ass beat.

You sighed, taking off your helmet and setting it on the floor. You placed a hand on your hip as you stared him down. “It’s me, Braun. You’ve got nothing to worry about right now.”

Reiner visibly relaxed, a sigh of relief escaping him. “I can’t believe you’re still a soldier.” He mumbled, swinging his legs over the side of his bed. “It’s a miracle they haven’t beaten you for your kindness.”

“I agree.” You motioned for him to keep resting, since he hasn’t been getting much of it.

You continued to stand in the doorway, waiting for him to get comfortable so he could tell you about his time in Paradis.

“Eren Yeager is Zeke’s half brother. And a real ass.” He mumbled, laying on his side as he stared into your eyes. He had heard about you through Zeke, about how you treated everyone equally and with kindness when they have done nothing wrong to you. The thought of someone being as kind as you made his heart swell.

When the day comes that you and him die, he knows you’ll be resting amongst angels as he awaits his punishment deep within hell. You may be able to forgive his sins, but God won’t. God holds grudges, and Reiner is sure he’s one of them.

“I’ll take your word for it.” You smiled softly, wishing he was able to return your gesture. Zeke had told you all about the titan shifters when you worked together. He told you about the great potential they had, each and every one of them. You had always wanted to get to know them better, but due to the sides you were born on, you weren’t allowed to.

“It was terrible over there.” He whispered, now curling into a fetal position, fear in his eyes as he recalled his time in Paradis.

You walked over to his bed and knelt down, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder as he sat in silence.“You look like you could use a drink.” You tried to lighten the mood, hoping that either hydrating him or getting him wasted would make him feel better. As someone who didn’t get much comfort as a kid, you weren’t sure how you could help him.

“No, please don’t go.” His voice sounded so fragile, like he would break into pieces if you left him alone with his thoughts. You weren’t used to people being this vulnerable around you, and now you really weren’t sure how to help him.

“O-Oh.” You whispered as he pulled you close to him, unexpectedly trapping you within his muscular arms. You weren’t one for physical affection, but him hugging you like this brought out a wave of emotions from you.

It was an awkward position the two of you were in, with you on the floor and him on the bed, but it was comforting nonetheless. You felt his shoulders begin shake, a sign that the poor man was now crying in your arms.

You broke free of his grasp and crawled up onto the bed, opening your arms for him. He looked at you, more surprised than anything, his eyes wide as you waited for him with a soft smile.

“Are you really sure you’re a Marleyan soldier?” He mumbled, burying his head in the side of your neck as he hugged you once again. His grip on you was tight, his shoulders still shaking as he sobbed silently.

You said nothing as your fingers played with his hair, your other hand rubbing his broad back gently.

It hurt you to see someone in such a state of vulnerability. To see someone so incredibly weighed down by the decisions he was forced to make was truly devastating. It made your heart wrench, guilt now washing over you.

It was your people that did this to him and for what? Because his ancestors did something that yours didn’t like? It made you so sick to think about.

Reiner must have noticed, because his grip loosened. You felt him hesitate to move, leaning away from the hug so he could look into your eyes. He could tell that you were upset, but he didn’t know what for. It was just that you radiated a sudden hatred, one that matched the dark look in your eyes.

“I apologize.” You whispered, your soft smile returning to your lips as he stared at you. You just sat there, staring at each other in the other’s arms.

There were no words exchanged afterward, only silence. The type of silence in which so many things are said, but nothing is being done. The type of silence that is used to communicate feelings that are too dangerous to be said aloud.

You leaned in slowly, tilting your head upward and bringing your lips closer to Reiner’s. He met you halfway, his lips connecting with yours in a teary eyed, messy first kiss. It was a beautiful moment, and it would have stayed that way if you hadn’t remembered that acts like this were against the law for Marleyans.

Quickly, you got up and grabbed your helmet, shaking nervously. “There’s g-going to be a mission n-ext week with the trainees..” You stammered, avoiding his gaze like it was the plague.

“S-So get ready f-for that.” You turned to leave, and you were halfway out of the room before you caved entirely. “I’ll be back in a little while, I’ve still got to do my rounds before I’m allowed back to watch you and the others for the night.”

With a quiet huff, you left the room, closing the door behind you carefully before speed walking away as fast as you could. On your way out, you ran into Porco, who was slightly tipsy. He gave you a weird look as you passed him, watching you closely.

“It’s late l/n. There are a lot of scumbags out and about this time of night.” He warned, leaning against the couch. “Do you want me to come with you?” You knew he had good intentions, but you were a soldier, so therefore, you didn’t need his help.

“No thanks Galliard. I’ll be okay.” You reassured before walking out into the night.

The fear of being a woman was something you would never get over. It was terrifying to walk the streets of anywhere alone, especially at night. Thankfully, you always had your gun and a pocket knife on you for self defense. A senior of yours had given you the knife a while back, telling you only to use it for personal emergencies.

You could hear the drunkards in every alley you passed, the stench making you sick. It was disgusting how people indulged themselves in such things without reason. It was almost as if they enjoyed making fools of themselves. You despised such people..

“Heeeeeey there beautifulllll.”

Great, you thought to yourself, keeping your expression blank as you walked away from him. You prayed internally that he would take the hint.

But the drunk never do.

He called for you again, his voice closer than before. Without hesitation, you spun around with a look of disgust. “I’m a man.” You deadpanned as you continued to walk, a bad feeling pooling in your stomach.

You felt someone grab ahold of your wrist, forcing you to stop walking. Panic spread throughout your body as you slowly turned around, eyes wide with fear.

The man gave you a sickening smile, his breath reeking of alcohol.

“I’m going to ask you nicely one time, Sir. Please take your hand off of me or else I will have to resort to violence.” You tried to assert yourself, your other hand slowly moving to your pocket knife.

“Oh pleaseeeee, I’m not ssssscared of no soldierrr.”

“You may not be scared of me, but you’ll be scared of my fellow soldiers sir.” You tried to pull away, but his grip on your wrist only got tighter, sure to leave a mark.

“Y-You need to ressssspect your eeeeldersss.”

He was starting to get upset now, meaning his next moves could end badly for you or him. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him, but you were getting closer and closer to doing so.

Suddenly, his hand went up to your breast, squeezing it harshly. The man let out a drunk giggle as he fondled you, ignoring your previous warning.

Slowly, you raised your hand and balled it into a fist, forcing it to collide with his face at full force. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you watched him stumble back, your mind racing as you thought about how to handle this.

“Ooooh you’re a strooooong oneee.” The man almost seemed happy, quickly recovering and walking back over to you. “I liKe ‘em stronggg.”

“Fucking hell, he’s insane.” You swore to yourself, frantically looking around to see if there was any way out of this. And instead of thinking to find a good course of action, you ran towards him, swinging your rifle like a baseball bat.

The man fell backwards as the butt of your rifle collided with his hideous face, knocking out one of his teeth in the process.

You stared at him in horror before making a run for it, hoping someone would be willing to help you.

“L/n! Is everything alright?” The familiar voice brought tears to your eyes, the concern in his voice making you feel guilty for making him worry. “My god, what happened??? You look terrified!” Reiner breathed out, pulling you into his arms as you shook with fear.

“S-Some guy…” You mumbled, not wanting him to worry about it. “I-It’s nothing…”

“I came out here because I was worried something had happened.” He admitted, resting his head on yours. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, but is there anyt-“

“Ey! Thhhhats my gal!” The sound of his voice caused you to tense up in Reiners arms, fear flooding your body once more.

Reiner quickly let you go, walking over to the man, rolling up a sleeve as he did so. The look in his eyes was one you had never seen before, and it scared you even further.

“W-Wait don’t-“ You called out, but he ignored you, continuing to intimidate the creep.

“That girl right there,” He pointed back at you, his tone sharp. “She isn’t anyone’s. She is a Marleyan soldier, and if you aren’t going to respect that, then maybe I can help you.”

“H-Holddd on here buddyyyy, I think I’veeee got the wrong chickkk.” He stammered, backing away slowly, his hands raised in self defense.

But Reiner didn’t care, he punched him anyways, knocking him onto the cobblestone sidewalk. Then he got down and punched him again, holding the man by his shirt.

“I-I’m sorryyy! Please d-don’tttt kill meee!” He whined out, tears streaming down his face.

“You scum.” Reiner scoffed, throwing him to the ground with a disgusted frown. He turned to look at you, frowning even more when he saw how scared you were. It hurt him to see such a strong woman so afraid, and all because of idiots like that guy.

Without a word, Reiner motioned for you to get on his back, worried that your legs might give out on you. Once he had gotten you situated, he began to walk back to the housing for the titan shifters.

You wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, burying your head in his shoulder as you sat in silence.

“I-I’m sorry for worrying you, Braun.” You whispered weakly, sniffling softly.

“L/n…” He frowned, adjusting his grip on your thighs as he thought. “I don’t ever want you to apologize for something that you couldn’t control. If anything, I’m sorry that I didn’t find you sooner…”

“B-But normally I c-can handle them!” The shakiness in your voice only made him angrier, his heart beating rapidly. He should’ve beaten that guy to a pulp. He should’ve kicked his ass so hard his ancestors would have felt the beating.

“Did you kick his ass before I got there?”

“I threw a punch and then s-smacked him with my gun…” You turned your head, your warm breath now blowing onto his bare neck, sending goosebumps throughout his body.

“I bet he won’t forget that.” Reiner nodded, knocking on the door to the house gently. He turned his head to get a better look at you, your noses brushing against each other. “Do you want me to get Zeke?” He asked softly, regret instantly spreading through him as your eyes filled with fear.

“Oh god no. Please. He’d hunt him down and kill him.”

Porco opened the door, looking at the two of you in surprise before letting you in. He was genuinely shocked when Reiner set you down on the couch and asked if you needed anything.

With a quick ‘psst!’, Porco waved Reiner over, ignoring the glare he received.

“What’s going on between you and the soldier??” He questioned, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Nothing.” The blonde huffed, crossing his arms. “I just owe her, that’s all.”

“Riiiiight.” Porco rolled his eyes, dismissing himself with a wave.

Reiner looked back at you, guilt squeezing at his heart. He should have left sooner. He should have just gone with you. But instead he was too weak and wrapped up in his self pity to think about the dangers of you patrolling at night.

If someone were to ask him how he was feeling that night, he would have simply said “I don’t know.” Because there’s not a single word out there that could describe the emotions swirling in his chest.

“G-Gabi!” You shouted, watching her walk out onto the battlefield with wide eyes. With a groan, you pulled out your rifle, focusing entirely on Gabi’s safety.

In fact, you were too busy to hear Falco and Udo whisper about how cool you looked.

“L/n. Weapon down.” Your superior officer ordered. “She’s an Eldian. If she wants to die, let her.”

“Sir. The enemy is approaching her.” You stated, blatantly ignoring his orders. “Permission to shoot?”

“Permission granted.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re damn lucky your father is important.” He grumbled to himself.

Without hesitation, you shot the man approaching Gabi, signaling to Zeke and Reiner to drop the titans.

You sent Colt out to retrieve Gabi before Zeke and Reiner landed, following them with your rifle as you engaged in physical combat with an enemy.

Zeke and Reiner had landed, now wreaking havoc on the fortress, destroying it carelessly.

“For the love of- ack!” Someone had shot your shoulder, causing you to stumble back, blood now staining your uniform. You winced, holding back a cry of pain as you took your aim at the stranger who had shot you.

“L-L/n!” You heard Gabi call out, followed by cheering when you successfully killed your attacker.

You made a quick motion for your superior officer to go out on the battlefield before you retreated to the trench. The trainees were quick to tend to your wound, not voicing their concerns for fear that you’d brush it off.

“F-Fuck.” You whispered weakly, breaking out into a cold sweat. Your body was shaking slightly, your breathing labored and your vision fading. “T-That wasn’t a n-normal bullet-“

The last thing you heard was a scream from Gabi before everything went black, forcing you to sit alone in the darkness.

Your doctor was unable to figure out what the bullet was laced with, leaving you in the dark once again. However, you had recovered quite a bit since you had been wounded, and were now being allowed back to patrol Eldia once again.

There was a festival that had been organized by Willy Tybur, the streets bustling with smiling Eldians. It was a lively sight, but an odd one, since the placement was quite unusual.

You saw Falco leading Reiner away from the crowd, smiling softly at how excited the boy seemed. He must’ve found something quite extraordinary if he was that happy about it.

Gabi then came up to you, taking you by your hand as she lead you to where Zofia and Udo were. They looked so happy. So excited.

“Let’s take a seat over here! I wanna know what’s going on!” Gabi jumped, dragging you over to where the temporary bleachers were set up.

You took a seat beside the children, patiently waiting for Willy to begin his speech for the night.

As the blonde was speaking, something emerged from the stage, causing it to crumple to the ground. People began to scream as they began clearing out the area as fast as possible.

Debris went flying everywhere, sending the people into even more of a frenzy as they desperately tried to avoid their deaths.

You looked up in horror, locking eyes with the monster that had just ruined the moment. All you could do was stand in fear as you stared into those terrifying green eyes.

A titan. A titan you didn’t recognize was now in Eldia, killing innocent people and for what.

You had lost Gabi and the others, but you trusted them to keep safe. Now you just had to make sure they would be able to stay safe.

“Boss! Get out the big guns!” You shouted, pulling out your rifle as you began to look for a target. Thankfully, the titan wasn’t the only intruder. A woman with short black hair had landed on his shoulder, seemingly talking to him before disappearing into the night.

She blended in well, but you were well trained. So you’d love to see her escape your aim.

Quickly pulling the trigger, you shot at her, missing, but making your presence known. She whipped her head around to stare at you, almost as if she was surprised by your audacity.

She came flying at you full speed, large swords in hand. You pulled out your pistol from your bra, shooting at her to throw her off. The woman swerved to avoid your aim, nearly running into aa building as she did so. You smirked, shooting at her once again.

Yet someone had called out her name, forcing her to retreat, but not before she glared you down.

You then watched the warhammer titan get devoured by the invader, sending chills throughout you.

“Eren Yeager…” You whispered, stumbling back in shock. “Oh my god… I need to find Braun!” You made a run for it, doing your best to take off the recognizable parts of your uniform so you’d look like a civilian.

That way, no one would engage. Because they were clearly here for the soldiers of Marley. They had a vendetta, and it terrified you.

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that they would have had to have had an inside man, because how else would they have been able to pull it off.

You quickly rounded the corner, now in the room that you suspected Falco had taken Reiner to. Breathing heavily, you stared into Reiner’s eyes with fear.

“Zeke…” you breathed out, your world spinning at the thought of such a betrayal. “Oh my god it was Zeke.”

All Reiner was able to do was stare at you, words failing him as you broke down.

Slowly, he got up from his seat and walked over to you. Your face was buried in your hands, tears streaming down your cheeks and your sobs now echoing throughout the concrete room.

Hesitantly, Reiner wrapped his arms around you, saying nothing as you cried hopelessly.

“You look familiar.” A woman’s voice spoke to you, deep and powerful.

You turned around from where Reiner was laying on the floor, your eyes meeting the many of the group that had broke into your temporary hideout.

“Please. D-Don’t hurt him.” You begged weakly, sitting defensively in front of him.

“We’re not gonna hurt him. We need his help.” The woman with black hair spoke, her tone devoid of emotion.

“Right. We need the armored titan.” The blonde beside her spoke, attempting to reassure you.

Slowly, you shook him awake, a frown forming on your lips.

“I’m going to fight too.” You stated, staring into the ravenette’s soulless eyes, your tone unmoving. “I’m not going to let him die while in your care.”

Reiner sat up as you spoke, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at his former comrades. “Get up. You’re with us now.” The woman commanded, tossing you a blade before turning around briskly.

A couple of the others stared at you a little longer before joining her outside.

“Reiner… I’m going to protect you. So don’t die out there.” You nodded, helping him off the ground.

“Y/n… you’re wounded…” He frowned, his hand rubbing your cheek softly before placing a gentle kiss upon your lips.

“I’m better now.” You lied, flexing to back up your claim. “Now let’s get out there and kick some Yeager ass.”

Watching you fight was something else already, but watching you fight like this? Reiner thought he was going to pass out.

You were a natural, defending your new ally’s from your own soldiers. You were taking down people you knew for people you didn’t, because he trusted them.

You landed on his titan’s shoulder, leaning in so you could discuss the next steps of the plan, making Reiner thankful that you couldn’t tell he was blushing. You were covered in blood and sweat, your chest heaving and your legs shaking. It was quite the sight for him.

“Reiner, Pieck and Porco are here. I’m going to get them and we’ll go from there.” You panted, placing a hand on his titan’s cheek to steady yourself. Reiner nodded and got into a fighting stance, Eren’s titan now rising from the ground.

He let out a loud roar as you sped away quickly, on the hunt for Porco.

As you were running, your eyes landed on Gabi and Falco, making your heart stop. Gabi was armed, Falco behind her nervously. Titans were everywhere, so why weren’t they inside??

You paused, debating on who to go after. Quickly, you turned around and yelled. “Reiner! Porco is on his wa-“ The sound of gunfire echoed amidst the chaos, time slowing as you fell to your knees, blood staining your shirt.

You looked to see the shooter, a man about your age with a sadistic smile. He had pinkish looking hair and a wild look in his eyes as he put his gun to your head.

“I’m not letting anything happen to Eren.” He smirked, kicking you onto your side.

You reached for your pocket knife, prepared to throw the thing if necessary. Thankfully, Pieck’s titan knocked through the building, sending your attacker flying.

“L/n…” She spoke, only able to stare at you.

Reiner let out another roar, too distracted by your injury to avoid Eren’s punch. Porco came up and lunged at the attack titan, catching him off guard.

As you lay on the roof of the building, your breathing shallow, Pieck left and Jean replaced her, picking you up gently so he could rush you away to safety.

“Hey Reiner! Rest easy! Your girl is safe with me!” Jean called , making sure Reiner saw you so he was able to continue fighting. He knew you would motivate him to fight, so he saved you. If you hadn’t been so close to Reiner, you probably would have died that day.

You awoke in a nice, comfortable bed, the early morning sun shining through your window as birds chirped excitedly. The pain in your side was unbearable, preventing you from moving too much.

Slowly, you looked around, your eyes stopping at Reiner, who’s head was on your bed, his hand in yours, snoring softly.

You smiled softly, tears in your eyes as you watched him sleep.

“It’s finally over, isn’t it Reiner?” You whispered, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand ever so gently. “I’m so glad you survived, my armored titan.” You continued to lay like that until he began to stir, his tired gaze meeting your teary eyed one with surprise.

“Y-Y/n!” He whispered, his eyes welling up with tears of their own. “Thank god you’re awake.” He cried, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“R-Reiner…” You winced slightly, placing a hand on your side as you attempted to sit up. “T-The wou-“

He softly placed his lips over yours, kissing you with such passion that you thought you were going to melt. He had missed you so much, your smile, your voice, and your lips. He missed everything, and he was going to show you.

Reiners lips trailed down your neck, slowly and sensually, taking his time as he tasted you.

“H-How long was I unconscious?” You stammered, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Reiner’s head rested in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against it.

“A week.” He frowned. “I was so worried.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“I was so scared. When I saw you get shot, I didn’t know what to do. I’m just thankful that Jean took you to get some aid before things got really rough…” Reiner trailed off, pulling you closer to his chest with a quiet sob.

“Y/n. I love you.” He confessed, his grip on your tightening. You were stunned into silence, words failing you completely as you processed his words.

“Reiner… God I love you.” You smiled, looking up at him. “I’m so glad we got to meet in this lifetime.”

He blushed at your words, pulling you back into his chest and laying down on the bed. “I want to marry you, Y/n. I’ve wanted to for such a long time now, but I couldn’t. Please. Allow me to be your husband.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of you saying those words?” You asked, a tear falling down your cheek. “I’ll marry you. My god I’ve wanted to forever. I’m just happy to know you feel the same way…”

“I love you, Y/n. I can’t wait to make you the happiest woman alive.” He whispered into your ear, stroking the back of your head softly.

#THIS MAN #THIS MAN RIGHT HERE #I NEED HIM SO FUCKING BACK YOU DONT UNDERSTAND #attack on titan #reiner x you #aot imagines #aot fanfiction #aot x female reader #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #reiner fluff #reiner braun #reiner x y/n #reiner imagine #aot reiner #reiner x reader #reiner braun x reader #fanfiction #x reader #fluff #angst with a happy ending #canonverse #the rumbling #tee hee #snk reiner #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk x you #snk x y/n #aot x reader

[maddiviner]

Hey I saw your posts about the Simulation/Matrix cult. I can’t find them myself but I’m wondering if they had any opinion on being trans, since the movie was created by trans women and had references to that?

The simulation cult isn’t a cult in the traditional sense, at least not yet. 

It’s just a bunch of people who, for whatever reason, are drawn to the idea that we’re “in the Matrix” and want to spew about it. I guess in five or ten years, someone with charisma could show up and start a proper cult out of it? Thus far, it’s super toxic, but they argue too much to count as a cult, I’d say. Cults are typically more controlling. Toxic ideas? Sure. Cult? Nah, not so far.

To answer your question, though, most of the simulation conspiracy theory folks are virulent bigots, I’ve noticed, particularly with regards to LGBTQ issues. This is probably why the Wachowski sisters very rarely get mentioned. This is despite using terms like “Mr. Smith, “Matrix,” etc culled from the film the duo made.

In some cases there’s comments and posts seemingly treating the movie as some kind of documentary almost. 

Their fascination with it is very surface-level, mostly concerned with the plot rather than any symbolism or (oddly) deeper meaning. If you really look at the movie, there’s a lot to chew on, but they’re not really doing that. 

At one point, someone in the Facebook groups tried to read some of the works of Jean Baudrillard, because the Wachowskis put his book in the film. That didn’t go well because apparently Baudrillard makes no sense to them. I’m not saying I myself understand Baudrillard , but like… c’mon, if this is so important, put in some effort, people…

I’ve seen some of ‘em say that they believe the Wachowski sisters weren’t trans to begin with, but that the simulation rewrote itself and the past to “discredit” them by adding that. Others have simply claimed that The Matrix wasn’t actually made by the duo - their name was put on it for nefarious purposes, presumably, again, to “discredit” the film’s message? 

It doesn’t make a lot of sense, like most conspiracy theories. If we’re in a simulation that’s so closely-controlled, why allow the movie to be made at all? Especially if it’s supposedly so close to being a “documentary” of the truth? 

Anyways, they tend to roll their general bigotry into the simulation theory stuff, too. The programmers of the simulation, the bad guys/robots/NPCs, whatever, tend to be whoever the person feels like targeting.

One guy commented that “the LGBTQs are all Smiths cuz if you simply disagree with them, they will cancel you.” Right next to a .gif of Mr. Smith from that film made by the Wachowski sisters. This is why aliens don’t talk to us, pretty sure. 

By this, he meant that he saw LGBTQ folks as de facto NPCs, particularly the evil sort actively controlled by the programmers. He likely wouldn’t have been able to describe what he meant by “cancel” or name one genuine bad thing that’d happened for him for “disagreeing.” 

In another thread, I saw someone comment that the religion-based discussions popping up on the group “don’t really engender much good discussion.” A guy saw the word engender, I guess, and assumed it meant something to do with gender. He popped back with some business about how “…you can’t engender things! Are you TRIGGERED by that?” I think someone eventually linked him to the definition of engender. I can only assume he’s still recovering from the shame of that moment. 

A lot of these people were probably right wing to begin with, probably had a conspiracy theorist streak to begin with. But still, it reads like their personalities and political beliefs formulated around 2011-2013 and they never grew any further. I gotta say that had to have been the first time in ages I’d heard that “lol triggered” thing used non-ironically. 

So yes. The simulation theory people are massive transphobes. Are you surprised? I wasn’t.

I’m considering abandoning this little project of lurking these groups because they’re starting to affect the way the Facebook algorithm feeds the rest of my account - I’m seeing more right-wing stuff.

I recognize and ignore/block it, but it’s there and annoying, and frustrating because there’s nothing I can do besides that.

It’s not like I’m skilled enough to change anyone’s mind about these deeply-held conspiracy theories. I don’t enjoy watching online train wrecks for their own sake. I get that some people do, but it seems unhealthy.

I ended up in these groups because I have epilepsy, and references to it in the groups themselves caused them to pop up on my feed (some of them think epilepsy, specifically, is a Matrix glitch - long story). 

I might dig into my settings and see about muting these groups for a while, just to get my feed a little more clean. I’m spending less and less time on Facebook, but there’s reasons for being there, I guess.

If it were only awful people on Facebook as a whole like that, I’d be outta the site in a heartbeat, but I got buddies still on there.

#simulation #simulation theory #simulation hypothesis #new age #conspiracy theories #transphobes #transphobia #npc #npcs #sim theory #eliza.txt #facebook #doused #matrix #cults

[rpedia]

Anonymous asked:  Idk, why. But every time I rp as a guy I sometimes feel uncomfortable or just bored. Especially when it comes to canon characters, I feel like I'm just satisfying my parthers otp/ships with their oc's. And when I try to bring in my others oc's, they're ignored. This happens almost every time with any other person. Do you have any advice?

Usually there’s a reason for stuff like this, so lemme jump to the biggest most extreme conclusion and get that outta the way. If you’re uncomfortable exclusively by the act of playing a gender, or thinking like a gender, and acting like a gender, and feel like you’re just playing a role with no connection to specifically a gender and nothing else... Maybe you don’t want to play/be/act as that gender? I mean, it could be anything setting you off, but this is important to point out, especially with your wording, subconscious though it may be. You don’t have to RP as a guy. It’s okay. Be anything you want, that’s what RP is for. To have fun, and be comfortable, and do what feels good to you. There’s no shame in just saying no to RPing anything. Settings, characters, genders, themes, tropes, even just roleplaying if you’re not in the mood! Roleplay is, again, for fun, and you should probably communicate that you’re no longer having it. That you want to explore other options. I mean this could be as simple as you don’t have chemistry with those partners, to as complex as realizing you may not have a real connection to a specific gender... even IRL. 

Like, I’m not gonna lie, I have seen a large number of people who have realized they identify as something else because they’ve played other genders, tried out the ol’ mental space with RP, and found something that fit them better. Might not be applicable to you, that’s fine. This is a deeply personal decision though, I’m just pointing it out as an aside because some people need that little push to go ‘oh’ and this answer is going to be an open letter to everyone who is in this situation as usual. So hey, it doesn’t have to be too serious, and if questioning your labels isn’t your speed, no issue. Just thought it was wise to point it out, rather than ignore it and pretend it didn’t set off a tiny alarm in my head saying ‘hang on a sec’. So yes, with that out of the way— Of course that’s not the only reason things might feel ‘off’! Like I mention above, there’s plenty of other things, so now that we have a quick ‘I’d be a jerk if I didn’t say this does happen’ out of the way, let’s explore things like chemistry, and why your characters don’t resonate with you personally, but end up seeming to be more for your partner in crime over there. AKA: Playing for other people, and why it doesn’t really work out.

So when you RP a character and they don’t sync with you personally? That’s a big thing buddy! That’s a sign you’re not playing what you love or vibe with. That doesn’t seem like something you should get upset about, we all do stuff that we feel pretty neutral or vaguely bored by for friends and family, but it really really can be draining over time. Playing something deeply out of your personal experience is a fun challenge, but I would never say do that for a long term if you’re not getting comfortable as you do it. You can burn yourself out, by pushing too hard and making so much work for yourself you lose the thread of fun supposedly throughout all RP.

Me? I have trouble with happy, perky characters. I can do it, and I do it well judging by the reaction of people around me, but it just doesn’t feel right. It feels like someone is very slowly spreading me thinner and thinner trying to react against my natural instincts. I know it’s actually another problem that some people feel like they play too many similar characters, but that’s a natural inclination to play something that suits you, so you can give your full attention to the details surrounding that character instead of questioning everything you do. 

Being able to act on auto pilot helps a ton when you want to focus on the important parts, like the plot instead of figuring out how this character would feel if it’s not what you kneejerk understand. Second guessing is hard! As anyone who deals with second guessing everything they do all day: it leads to exhaustion because it’s an extra hidden layer of emotional labor.

So! Why are dudes uncomfortable for you? We’ve got an obvious problem here that an external force (your RP buddies over there) may have trained you to believe that you only have one purpose. That male characters are romance fodder, and have to fall in love with an OC. That your OC’s aren’t important. That’s gonna be a whoooole different problem right there. This is a problem with your RP partner, who is using you to fulfill their happiness. There’s a huge problem with the power dynamic in this OOC relationship, just going by this little snippet.

Your partner should never make you feel like you’re only roleplaying for their sake.  

I’m leaving that line all alone so you can really look at it, and reread it. I’m going to say it again in fact: Your partner should never make you feel like you’re only roleplaying for their sake. There’s various reasons why that’s icky, but I’ll just touch on what stands out to me most. One of those things is that this makes roleplaying a job. 

Instead of letting yourself explore the mind of a character you enjoy, you’ve come to expect that you will follow a certain order of things, and that your job is to fill the emotional labor required of your partner to keep them happy. They respond to you requesting similar emotional labor (which in a healthy relationship should be give-and-take) by ignoring you. This is painful for you, maybe not like getting pinched, but feeling like what you’ve made isn’t good enough? That you’re not good enough by extension because our RP kids are totally extensions of ourselves? That’s unfair. Unfair to you.

However! Even if something seems to be a pattern, like not playing dudes, it’s always good to test run characters from all walks of life. Any character couldn’t be the exception to or that your mood could change. That means, don’t feel guilty if you’ve said “this label doesn’t feel right” for a while, and then you have an exception. It just means it’s an exception, you’re fine. You’re not breaking your own rules, you’re learning more about what works with you.

Finding yourself at a loss with OC’s or characters you enjoy may point to your environment being one that’s hostile to new things. They don’t understand an OC, there’s no blueprint giving them an idea of what to expect. OC’s are also one of the easiest ways for players to get into the game, which means newbies who lack social graces tend to gravitate towards them because ‘there’s no rules to break’ in how they portray them. Unfortunately since they don’t know how to approach others in socially appropriate ways, this gives OC’s a reputation for being awful to play with. They break etiquette, they push too hard, they don’t get why someone may be backing away. This isn’t the OC’s fault, it’s the player, but it’s seen more in OC’s because of ease-of-entry. So... they gain a reputation.

That means approaching on an OC is definitely going to come with people looking for standard red flags, and they’ll need to see you in action long enough to get comfortable with you! You have to be stellar in everything to get attention, and you have to have a hook. Your character has to be stand-out, interesting, and fun. Something people get grabbed by the summary of, so they can emotionally attach to it the same way they did major series, which give a character time to come out of their shell, and audiences time to connect to them. That’s why canons are popular: They bought the time it took to get under people’s skin by having a plot to follow. Without that, OC’s are like hearing about a character from another fandom you’re not interested in.

There’s also, unfortunately, an online beef against the ladies in plot. I’m not gonna sugar coat it, people have gotten it into their heads that girls being roleplayed tend to be shallow, vapid characters designed just for romance. So it can be hard to egt people interested because of stereotypes. The worst part is, I see this stereotype most often from male writers playing women, who have no idea hoiw to treat them as a person, and have instead made them a cardboard cut out designed to reach their goals. This is even worse on adult websites where smut is an option, ladies get the short stick SO often because of years where female characters have been treated as a plot device. 

This goes way back to the idea of a sexy lamp: If your female character can be replaced with a sexy lamp, they aren’t expanded enough on. They aren’t a person. Some of the strongest female characters have been, say, Ripley from Alien. Why? She was a male character in the script, they just didn’t change anything but her gender and rolled with it. Which, duh, worked because women is people. A wild concept for some reason. Can you tell this is something that gets my goat, because baaaa, motherfucker, baaaa.

That means you end up working against a lot of shit to just try and play around and have fun. It can be exhausting, and more than once I’ve seen people give up. Don’t, though. People need to hear your voice. If you’re in a position where things are hard, remember. Trying the same things over and over expecting it to change is just silly. You need to change parts of your approach, whether it be the environment, the people, or simply how you word things. Push back on what’s making you feel bad, and put down boundaries. “If I do this, I would appreciate if you gave back with this.” Ask for space, you deserve space to explore what makes you happy. Say no more often to things you’re not comfortable with. You don’t have any obligation to fit a mold for another person.

Find your comfort zone, and defend it. If that means moving onto a new group of people, or just doing something extraordinary with what you have, or finding a new way to approach stuff, then maybe that’s what you need to do! Spread your wings, and find what makes you happy. Don’t look for advice on how to tamp yourself down into what you feel like you should be doing, if it’s not right for you. Good luck, and Happy RPing!

#RPedia #roleplay #roleplay help #roleplaying tips #rph #anonymous #Ask Rpedia #gender dysphoria #misogyny #OC hate #Big topics for a little question #I know #Especially when the advice boils down to #don't do thing if hurt #do other thing #with new people if needed

[pinkandpurple360]

ok so apparently asmodeus is technically a part of the goetia family because he’s a bird/is in the actual ars goetia grimoire, but why aren’t bee/mammon? or are they? did asmodeus create the goetia like satan is said to have created the imps? if so, why doesn’t he rule them but rules the succubi instead? is satan a goetia? if imps are descended from him, assuming all of the sins are goetia, does that make imps goetia? what do the goetia even do? heck, what do the sins even do? you dont really see any of them actually ruling their ring on screen, just their wacky business ventures. unless its supposed to be a commentary??? why are the hellhounds considered the lowest class when they’re more powerful than imps and succubi? why is beelzebub a “good guy” despite participating in a little slave trade??

you don’t hav to post this. im just thinking about the worldbuilding here because it’s a mess. helluva is supposed to be the showthat develops how hell works, according to viv, and to give context to hazbin. but it fails to do both, especially when based on what we’ve seen of hazbin so far, none of this shit matters.

if i were to rewrite, id just make the only hierarchy be sins -> everyone else. just have the other species have different abilities but no “tier list” because spindlehorse does not know how to handle these subject matters with tact, or even in a way that’s interesting.

end of rant :)

Hell yes the classism topic. My favourite. After rewatching Arcane I feel like I can approach this with new eyes.

Asmodeus - he’s a named king in the official 72 members of the Ars Goetia from the Lesser Key of Solomon. He’s supposedly an equal to Paimon, however, he’s been uplifted to Prince of Sin, wealthier and more powerful than Paimon, who’s favourite person is Lucifer. That has to be the tenth time a peasant idolised a rich person and the peasant as characterised as more evil than them. The sole exception is Fizz idolising Mammon.

Mammon is not named, Beelzebub isn’t either.

It seems as though Luci created them as they reside in the pride ring

What do the sins do? Have parties and concerts. And lots of sex with peasants. They’re lazy and privileged while the Goetia serve the narrative of corrupt royals. Even though the middle and upper classes should really be swapped. The middle are content and complacent, higher ups are the more effed up kind.

As far as Hellhounds go, I think what’s happening there is they naturally have reverse werewolf powers. Being able to transform from wolf to human and back. Imps are absolutely not Goetia.

Beelzebub is intentionally written as participating in the slave trade of hellhounds just like Asmodeus is participating in creating sex robots with remarkable levels of consciousness, being sexually violated everyday and being aware that it’s happening. But they will be characterised as ignorant or silly or forced by someone else who you must hate, into doing it. Like some bad woman like a Roo or a Stella. Or some evil poor person who’s evil for wanting to steal from the rich.

I still hold that the whole royalty hierarchy since the pro stolas mid series rewrite, (which is clearly what destroyed it) is now just to make the ships more spicy. And to make rich people into the biggest victims of it somehow.

As for your last point! Watch Arcane instead! It’s far better at this stuff.

#helluva boss critical

[scaryscarecrows]

Officer David Brooks had, honestly, thought the empty house had a squatter in it. Druggie, homeless kid, whatever. That was the only reason he’d gone in without calling for backup.

He’s regretting that choice now; he’d heard creaking upstairs, and opened a door there only to be met with a rifle to the face.

“What are you doing here.”

David recognizes him. A little, anyway. He’s one of what the internet has dubbed the Red Hood Protection Squad. Some’a the older guys at the station suspect they were here on Fear Night, but all he knows is that a bunch of guys came roaring into Gotham around the same time Black Mask made his move to get rid of the Hood, then everyone vanished (there’d been vigils and crying and candles on rooftops, weirdly enough), and then Hood came back with…minions. Or help. People.

Not that it matters. The rifle isn’t going down and the man holding it looks more than willing to squeeze the trigger if he doesn’t like the answer he gets. David stays still, wills his shoulders to slacken, and says, “Thought you were a squatter or somethin’.”

Rifleman cocks his head, looks past him at the dark hallway. David pretends his heart isn’t in his mouth.

“You here alone?”

That’s always a dicey question.

“Backup’s coming,” he lies. “Look, I--”

“Hands where I can see ‘em,” the man barks. “Bend down, nice and slow, and set your gun down on the ground.”

He doesn’t have much of a choice. Not that that makes this any better.

He does as ordered, hating every second of it, and straightens back up. Rifleman backs up a few steps and jerks his head.

“In. No sudden movements. You try anything , I will not hesitate to shoot you, is that clear?”

It occurs to him, just now, that Rifleman might have had a run-in with Fright, and her knock-off Fear Toxin. Hopefully not, but it’s possible. Likely, even; she’s out, and he heard the other night that she gave a couple of these guys the slip.

“Very,” he says. “Um. You, uh, you okay, man?”

Rifleman all but has a speech bubble over his head saying, Really.

They’re not usually out on their own, is the thing. Sometimes-like, once in a blue moon sometimes-one of them will drop off evidence or something. But they usually work in pairs at minimum.

David’s heard stories, from some’a the really older guys that’ve been around since the first Robin. Supposedly the Joker got hold of the second Robin (how many did Batman have, anyway?) and Hood’s what crawled back out, and that’s why he enforces the Group Rule.

No way is he gonna ask this guy if that’s true. It’s better to just step inside and keep his mouth shut.

He’s never gotten a good look at any of them, even on camera-they wear masks and goggles and the hoods on their jackets are almost always up. Rifleman’s goggles are on top of his head now, under the hood, but mask on the lower half of his face is very much still there. Still, David can tell he’s frowning. He steps to the right, intending to give the man some space, and the rifle swings back up to his face.

“Don’t. Move.”

He’s in his early-to-mid thirties, maybe; certainly no older. Comfortable with the gun, too, the type that comes from a lot of hours with it.

“All right, man,” he says, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Just thought I’d give you some breathing room.”

“Back against that wall,” Rifleman retorts. “Now. You’re gonna stay right there until--”

There’s a cough from the dark corner behind the man, followed by a hazy, “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Situation’s handled, boss.” Shit. “Wall. Now. ”

David moves to the wall. From this angle, he can see an ominous red helmet sitting on the floor. Further squinting reveals the shadow of its owner, sprawled out with one arm across his stomach and the other lying by his side, gun glinting under his fingers.

“S’someone ‘ere?”

“Cop. He’s on his own; says he’s got backup coming, I don’t buy that.”

Hood hums, fingers twitching.

“Stand down.”

“Yessir.”

Rifleman lowers his weapon and steps back to crouch down next to Hood. Now that he’s moved, David can see spattered white under Hood’s arm-bandages, looks like, or at least a rough compress.

(As Roman Sionis would be happy to point out if he were still alive, Hood’s boys do not take kindly to one of their own getting hurt. This is bad.)

He must be at least a little okay, though, because he peels his arm off his stomach to swat at Rifleman’s shoulder.

“Don’ need’a mother ‘en.”

“Boss,” Rifleman says, sounding like he’s explained this a few times today, “your insides are on the inside only because the medicine cabinet was actually stocked. Don’t push it.”

“Hrm.” Hood’s arm falls back and his head lolls in David’s direction. “Here on your own, kid? Not smart.”

“Backup’s on the way,” he says again, even if it’s...sort of a lie. Backup will come. Eventually. When they notice he’s missing.

Outside, there’s the high, thin laugh of a drunkard and Hood jolts halfway off the floor. He doesn’t get farther; Rifleman’s hand snaps out to force him back down.

“S’just a bar crawl or something, sir.”

Hood sighs and goes limp, muttering, “‘least Crane had the manners to make his shit consistently awful.”

“I know, boss.”

“You holding up okay?”

“Rainbows and fucking sunshine, boss.” He leans back against the wall. “Just. Just maybe don’t move too much, okay?”

Hood shrugs, a little, and pulls his gun a little closer to him.

“Sure.”

“You guys have a run-in with Fright?”

Hood chuckles darkly and David wonders if he can reach the door before Rifleman shoots him.

“Cheap Scarecrow knock-off; Crane’d be offended.”

Going off the stories, Crane would have killed her for daring to replicate his precious formula.

“The side effects are minor,” Rifleman says shortly. “Paranoia more than anything, comes and goes in waves.”

At least there’s that.

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Hood’s breathing is slow and careful, like it hurts, and Rifleman keeps looking at the door.

“They’re taking forever.”

“They’ll be here.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Mm.”

There’s a noise somewhere else in the house and they both tense. David eyes Hood’s fingers, the ones on the gun, but the guy doesn’t move other than to tap his companion’s elbow.

“S’the door locked?”

“Yessir.”

“Fine.” He shifts a bit, breath hitching, but bats Rifleman’s hand away when the other man reaches towards the bandages. “Just moved wrong, m’fine.”

“If you bleed out, Doc’s gonna kill me.”

“He is not.”

“He might.”

“I’m not gonna bleed out. It’s stopped. Jus’ a little sore.”

“Hm.” He plunks his head against the wall and reaches up to adjust his goggles. “F’you say so, sir.” Hood shrugs again and he must close his eyes, because Rifleman pokes him and says, “Doc says you gotta stay awake.”

“Doc’s an asshole. An’ m’not sleeping. S’too bright, s’all.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“Snitch.” He sighs and the fingers resting on his gun go a little limper. “M’fine. S’jus’ bright, tha’s all…”

A car goes by outside, headlights turning the room white for a second, and David gets his first real look at the man half the underworld’s running scared from. He’s David’s age, or around there, and there’s a J burned into his face. His name? Joker-related? If he was suicidal, he’d ask, but as it stands, Mama would slap him with a flip-flop and if Hood doesn’t kill him, Rifleman might.

Brr.

“Look,” he says carefully, “I’m just...gonna go, okay?”

They don’t answer. He risks starting to stand up and then a knife whistles through the air, snagging his sleeve and bringing him down. It wedges in the wood.

“Nice throw.”

“Mm.” Hood sinks back down. “Make another move, and it’ll be a bullet to the head.”

Oh. Message received.

He stays still, resisting the urge to pull the knife free. Hood takes a few more deep, careful breaths and Rifleman adjusts his back against the wall.

From this new angle, David can see a little bit of blood under Hood’s body. And he can see Rifleman shuddering intermittently, shoulders trying to bunch together.

“Hey,” Hood says shortly, reaches up tap Rifleman’s elbow again. “This ain’t the Amazon*.”

“I know, boss.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“F’I start seeing trees, I’ll let you know.”

“Mm.” Hood sighs. “M’not sleeping. Just closin’ my eyes, s’too bright.”

Another car drives by, going another direction. Rifleman’s the only one the lights hit this time, and there’s not much to see. A bandanna over the lower half of his face, with the hard mask now hanging around his neck. Goggles, pushed up under the hood of his jacket to nestle into short, blond curls. There’s a bruise on his temple with a little bit of dried blood near it.

“So.” This is so awkward. “You, uh, you were in the Amazon?”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’ve never been out of Gotham before.”

“I can tell.”

Does that mean shut up? It sounds like that means to shut up. He can take a hint, no matter what Bullock says.

He’s tempted to try and get free, but the knife feels like it’s stuck tight and he knows he can’t get loose before one-or both-of them shoots him. Red Hood and co. don’t kill cops, (well, dirty ones aside) but they’re not above hurting them, either, if they’re in the way or posing a threat. Evans is still in PT from the big guy kicking him into a car a few months ago.

‘The big guy’. Ha. David’s never seen him, but he must be massive; Hood’s not pocket-sized.

“Hey, kid,” Hood rasps from the floor. “Did that stupid ‘Protection Squad’ thing catch on at the station?”

It did, but David’s not sure how the guy’s gonna react to that.

Eh...YOLO.

“Yeah. It did.”

Hood laughs and nudges his companion. Is that good? He thinks that’s good. He hopes that’s good.

“Told ya. S’like the. The Batsignal. B always called it the light, but nobody else did.”

“You did, sir.” Rifleman looks tempted to hit him over the head with said rifle. “Maybe don’t talk, boss.”

“Mm.” Hood moves, like he’s trying to get more comfortable, and David’s just resigning himself to an awkward night when there’s a noise downstairs. “Shit--”

“I got it.”

David blinks and Rifleman’s just gone . David’s torn between being kind of glad (Hood doesn’t seem inclined to, like, get up) and terrified (what if the guy dies or has a major freak-out or-?).

“You, uh, you been here long?”

“Chatty, arencha?” Hood sighs. “No. We’ll be outta here soon, too, and then you can go.”

Good.

“False alarm.” WHEN DID HE GET BACK WHAT THE FUCK. “Stray cat knocked somethin’ over.”

“Tha’s good.” Hood shifts again. “Help me up.”

“No.”

“Come on--”

“You’re gonna start bleeding again. Sorry, sir.”

“Want me to do something?”

Silence. Then Hood snorts and Rifleman says, voice dry as the Sahara, “You’re literally pinned to the floor, man. No.”

“Well, you could let me up and--” There’s the click of the safety being switched off. “Or not.”

If he weren’t looking at them-well, what he can see of them-he wouldn’t know they were here. They’re silent, and still, and he wonders if it’s true, that Hood was Robin the Second, that the guys with him brought Gotham to its knees within hours.

He’s just getting up the courage to ask when something crackles and Rifleman’s suddenly moving and barking, “Where the hell are you?”

“A few streets out,” a voice says, edged with static. “Fright gone?”

“Long gone. There’s a cop here, don’t trip over him when you get here.”

“Cop? Just one?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. Sit tight.”

So are they all coming? Will they let him go after? Or at least, like, let him up?

“Told ya they’d be here soon.”

“I know, sir.”

“So help me up.”

“No.”

David doesn’t know how, exactly, but one minute he’s looking at the ceiling and the next there’s five, six people crammed into the room.

“You’re both idiots,” someone says-the man from earlier, the staticy voice. “Okay...yeah, that’s gonna need stitches...c’mere.”

A shadow moves and woah Evans was right. David blinks and Hood’s been picked up. Not that it’s stopped him from grumbling.

“I c’n walk.”

“Consider it punishment for stupidity. Fuckin’ dumbasses. It’s like you enjoy needing stitches…” The speaker peels away from the group and crouches down next to David. His mask and goggles are still in place. “Don’t move. Wouldn’t wanna cut something important.”

Okay.

The knife comes out of the floor but David stays still. For safety and all. And then the room’s empty, like they were never here at all.

Bullock is going to be so pissed...but hey, not that many of his coworkers can say they’ve seen any of these up close and come out unscathed.

Not that he’s gonna go out of his way for a repeat. Better safe than sorry.

THE END

*Once upon a time, when Antoine was bright-eyed and eighteen and in the actual army, he and his commanding officer at the time got stranded in the jungle. The C.O. died. Antoine...is relatively okay, but the whole incident left some psychological marks.

#fic #older fic at that #r&b's p #jason todd #antoine drouot

[rotworld]

25: Gluttony

your roommate needs a plus one if she wants to get into an infamous vampire party on campus, and you're bad at saying no.

->explicit. noncon to dubcon, the messiest of messy consent, blood drinking, gore, implied mind control/mind-altering magic, student/teacher relationship, voyeurism/exhibitionism.

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The Archambault Estate is such a stereotype that it’s the immediate result when you google “vampire mansion.” It’s at the very top of a hill because of course it is, hidden from prying eyes by a decorative iron fence and a rose garden so sprawling it might as well be a hedge maze. Plucked straight out of the Middle Ages with its gargoyles, castle spires and harsh, Gothic angles, it’s comedically out of place in the perpetually modernizing churn of your college town. It’s a point of obsession for a lot of people. You’re always running into students who applied here just because of the mansion, alumni who make an annual pilgrimage back, tourists who clog the local hotels in the fall and winter months. 

Fall and winter is when Roderick Archambault holds parties, after all. And unlike the secretive gatherings of most old money immortals, the average person actually has a shot at getting inside the Archambault Estate. All they need is a vampire’s invitation and a friend. 

The days get shorter, the nights get colder, and as the sun dips beneath the horizon, that sleepy, oak-shaded road that winds up the hill comes alive with a procession of luxury cars and foot traffic that wouldn’t look out of place in line for a nightclub. It’s a steep march to the top, which gives you plenty of time to try telling Sylvie all the reasons you shouldn’t be here. “People just up and vanish when they go to these, you know. They have the money to do whatever they want and get away with it. There’s no way it’s safe.” 

“Those’re just rumors,” Sylvie says with the clipped tone of someone who’s already digging their heels in. “I know a guy who’s been in the Ciborium for years, he comes back safe and sound from every party he goes to.”

“That’s different,” you insist. “The Ciborium has protection. There are actually consequences if something happens to them—”

“And you’re looking at a prospective member, if I make the right connections tonight.” Her pleading tone just feels like a jab now, an unsubtle reminder of why you’re here. You’ve got no horse in this race. You don’t make a habit of cruising vampire parties looking to get bit, no matter how good it supposedly feels. It’s accurate to say you’ve been avoiding the estate and this entire part of town every cold Friday night. Sylvie thinks you’re sheltered and misinformed, buying into the same old stories people have been telling for years. That’s at least half the reason she was so insistent, you think. She could’ve asked anyone, but you’re the one who needs convincing that vampires are just like regular people and the Ciborium isn’t a cult.

You already know vampires are like regular people, which is to say they’re fine until they have more money than they know what to do with. You’ll just have to agree to disagree on the Ciborium.

“We’re not dressed for this,” you say, half-hearted. You know there’s no getting out of it at this point. But it’s true, most of the people trudging up the hill with you are making the hike in flashy ensembles, sequin dresses, mesh and designer print shirts, a few brave souls making the hike in stilettos. 

“We’re dressed perfectly,” she says, shivering as she rubs her arms. Her jacket is thin, zipped just far enough to show off the skin between her breasts and lack of a bra. “I told you, casual is the way to go. They like it if you don’t look like you’re trying too hard. I mean, you look a little unavailable with your neck covered, but some of them are into that.”

You get there too fast. The road evens out, the gates are wide open, and autumn leaves carpet the narrowing road like a red carpet. You can’t deny that the place is beautiful. You’re plunged immediately into the famed Archambault gardens, no longer in bloom but still exquisitely beautiful with arch trellises, stone cherub fountains and a pond stocked with speckled fish. Sylvie’s practically vibrating with excitement all the way to the front doors, where a pair of doormen are vetting the guests. They’re dressed formally in black vests and crisp white undershirts, sleeve garters around their forearms.

It’s not a long wait. Roderick Archambault is notoriously lax compared to his contemporaries, and few people are turned away. Still, Sylvie feels the need to make an impression when it’s your turn at the front, rattling off her name, the name of several vampires at the party, and the name of her Ciborium contact before presenting you as her plus one.

“Your wrist, please,” the doorman says. You don’t budge. Sylvie is staring at you with the wide, watery eyes of a puppy watching you take its favorite toy away. “I won’t bite,” the doorman assures you. You see a flash of fangs when he smiles. “I don’t need to break the skin to pick up your scent.” 

You didn’t know they did this, but it makes sense. The only real criteria must be how appealing your blood smells. You’re still reluctant so Sylvie goes first, proudly sliding back her sleeve and presenting her wrist. The doorman presses his nose to her skin and sniffs like this isn’t the weirdest shit in the world and hums, seemingly in approval. Now both of them are looking at you and you’re holding up the line, so you cave. Reluctantly, you hold out your hand. The doorman moves your sleeve back and you flinch when he brings your wrist to his face. 

He doesn’t just smell you, though. He licks you. Not just a short press from the tip of his tongue, either, but a full, wet, open-mouthed lick. You snag your hand back and he laughs all shy and sheepish, like he just bumped into you or something. “Sorry,” he says. “Yeah, you’re both good. Go on in.” Sylvie ricochets right back into jittery excitement, clutching your forearm before you change your mind and dragging you with her and you’ve never been quite so terrified. You feel the doorman’s gaze burning into your back until you’re swallowed by the crowd.

You’re vaguely aware of Sylvie talking to you, rattling off historical and architectural facts about the Archambault Estate—“Did you know that the gargoyles are themed seasonally, depending on which direction they’re facing?”—but you’re not paying attention. You can’t. There’s so fucking much going on around you. A group of musicians is playing a sorrowful rendition of Vivaldi’s “La Folia” in the foyer. Bottles of bloodwine make the rounds on server’s platters, pouring thick and scarlet into crystal champagne flutes. A group of people standing in a circle to your left is talking about some dreadful party they were at two hundred years ago in the Belgian countryside. 

Feeding happens out in the open. A lot of the vampires have a human swooning on their arm or curled up on their lap. Some have small crowds gathered around them, half-undressed with their shirts off, their bitten chests and necks exposed. Feeding service apps and campus matchmaking services look downright chaste in comparison to the orgies happening right in front of you. You watch a young woman get grabbed as she’s just walking by a group of vampires, giggling excitedly as she’s passed around. The first drinks from her neck, the second from the shoulder. A couple closes in on either side of her, feeding from both of her wrists at once. 

The Ciborium is here, of course. They announce themselves with jeweled, chalice-shaped brooches, always wearing white. Sylvie sees one she knows, a man not much older than either of you with long, shampoo commercial shiny hair, and waves him over enthusiastically to chat. You’re introduced briefly. His name is Darren. You don’t catch much else with your attention tugged in every direction at once.

The windows are the same ornate stained glass of a cathedral, the marble floor leading up to a grand staircase flanked by suggestive stone sculptures. Between plush Victorian armchairs sits a table with a young man kneeling on top of it. He’s naked and aroused, his cock twitching against his belly and oozing a thick glob of precum, sampled by anyone who walks by from the throat, the arm, the thigh by a particularly brazen vampire. 

“What about you?” Someone’s talking to you. Darren, smiling patiently as you snap back to attention. “You’re not a regular or I would recognize you. Is this your first party?”

“Oh. Yeah,” you say stiffly, shrugging. “Mostly just here for moral support.” 

“That’s very kind of you. I’m sure Sylvie appreciates it.” Someone walks up behind him while you’re talking and starts caressing his neck. Darren doesn’t even flinch and leans into the touch, baring his neck for the stranger, all without breaking eye contact with you. “Do you know much about the Ciborium? Any interest in joining?” 

Someone moans loudly across the room. The man on the table just came untouched and the vampire attached to the side of his neck strokes his softening cock, milking out every last drop across his heaving, shuddering chest. Sylvie looks, just once, just briefly, her face flushed. Darren is still staring at you with that vacant smile, shivering slightly when the vampire behind him noses against his neck. 

“Bathroom,” you say quickly. “I’m just—real quick—” 

You don’t know where the bathroom is, of course, and you’re not about to ask. Everyone you come across is naked, has their teeth in somebody else, or is at least five hundred years old and watching you scurry around like a mouse they’ll catch when they feel like it. You try to find the quietest place you can, going against the flow of the crowd down dark, winding corridors. A few private feedings are happening in small, candlelit rooms. The humans are ecstatic and desperate, crying out for more, for harder bites, for deeper drinking. Bodies glisten with sweat as they writhe in the unflinching grasp of vampires, some still cool and collected in their human form, others unfurling into more monstrous shapes. 

You could leave, couldn’t you? Sylvie only needed you to get in. You don’t like the idea of leaving her here, but this is what she wanted, isn’t it? You pass another open doorway—something crow-shaped but much too big, wings fluttering, clawed hands pinning down a body that doesn’t seem to be moving. You hear a strangled moan and you can’t distinguish if it’s pain or pleasure. A long tongue laps blood from the floor. You stumble just a bit in your hurry to keep moving. Going back the way you came is too daunting and you find yourself up a flight of stairs and hopelessly lost, roaming an empty, quiet hallway. 

“Are you alright?” someone asks. 

You didn’t hear anyone behind you and bite back a startled yelp, flinching, putting some distance between you and the stranger before you turn around. Whatever you were going to say shrivels up and dies before it reaches your tongue, strangled by shock. Those are the same green eyes that greet you twice a week for a small, evening discussion section. Standing in front of you is Simon Ecklund, your classical lit professor. 

The breathless “holy shit” slips out before you can stop it. You’re used to seeing him in approachable attire, a cream cardigan, a turtleneck, those silly patterned socks you catch just a glimpse of when he struts down the lecture hall steps. He’s wearing a corset. It’s short, just wrapping around his midsection, made of black and red brocade with a Victorian floral pattern, and it looks amazing on him, a frilled-collar poet shirt bunching loosely at the top. His pants are tightly fitted and you’re using every sliver of your willpower to keep your gaze above the belt. Usually he keeps his hair tied back in a ponytail but it’s loose and wild, a few strands hanging in his face giving him a wild, roguish look. 

He looks mildly surprised to see you here, and maybe just a bit dismayed. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. You’ve never seen his fangs before. They’re not visible unless a vampire’s just fed, or intends to, and his are especially prominent now. “I’ve never seen you at the estate before.” 

“Never been before,” you admit clumsily. Your brain is fried looking at him. The crush that’s been simmering just under the surface since the start of the semester has your heart racing. He can probably hear it. He keeps glancing just a bit too low to be looking at your eyes. The open space of your jacket, you think, where the thick material of your turtleneck is. “I’m, um. Here for a friend. She really wanted to get in, had to bring someone.” 

“I see,” he says. God, this is awkward. Of course you had to be stubborn and come wearing the same tired shit you wear to class when you’ve just rolled out of bed. You’re imagining him lecturing in that outfit and it’s making your face even hotter. “You’re nervous.” 

“I’m—yeah,” you say quickly. “Yes. Sorry. I didn’t really want to come. I don’t do these kinds of parties.” You lean against the wooden staircase banister, just to have something to hold onto, something else to look at. You’ve made a bit of a loop, somehow. You can see one of the hallways that leads into the foyer from here, people passing quickly below. A vampire slams a Ciborium member against the wall and grinds against their body as they drink, spurred on by the human’s weak, wanting gasps. Simon is next to you when you look again, staring down at the same scene. He rests his crossed arms over the banister, long sleeves dangling. 

There’s something in the air, maybe. Something that makes you want to say and do stupid shit. “Is it, um, inappropriate to say you look good in that?” you ask.

Simon glances at you out of the corner of his eye. He looks tense. He taps his fingers along the wooden railing in a quick rhythm. “About as inappropriate as me telling you that you smell delicious,” he says. “Which you do, by the way. It’s a very noticeable scent. You’ve stood out to me since the first day of classes.” 

“I know,” you say quietly. You feel him staring. “I mean, I didn’t—I didn’t know you could smell it. But I know. People have told me it’s, um, distinctive. Before.” 

Was he always close enough to touch? He shifts just slightly and you feel his thigh pressing against yours, nearly shoulder to shoulder. “Do you know what happens at events like these?” he asks. “I suppose you have some idea by now. You’ve seen us…interacting with human guests.” You nod stiffly, clutching the banister. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest. “You probably have a very different opinion of me now that you’ve seen me here. I confess, I’m prone to overindulgence. Lord Archambault is very accommodating to our preferences. We can make requests, you know. I hardly feed elsewhere now.” 

You’re still nodding, your body on autopilot. You have no idea what to say. You struggle to process this information. Simon Ecklund, your pretty, soft-spoken lit professor spends his Fridays in this den of debauchery. How long has he been going? How many of his students has he drank from, or fucked in a feeding high? 

You see Sylvie drift by, the same vampire who’d been fondling Darren trailing close behind her. Simon’s gaze follows her. “Ah. There she goes,” he chuckles. “I’m afraid I’m to blame for you being here in a roundabout way. I’m the one who originally extended an invitation to your roommate. I was about to go looking for her. We’ve had an arrangement.”

Your eyes snap back to his face and he’s studying you closely, his expression unreadable but clearly patient. Waiting for something. You can barely string together a coherent thought, much less a sentence. “Wh—what? Why…?” 

Simon’s gaze wanders down to the neckline of your sweater, then back to your eyes. He licks his lips. “Because you’re roommates,” he says, his voice thicker, a bit rough suddenly. “Your scent is all over her.” Simon’s movements are slow and graceful. You don’t recognize that he’s cornered you, caged you against the banister with his own body, until it’s too late and his hands are sitting on the railing on either side of you. His body is hot when it presses against you, bloodlust igniting beneath the skin. 

There’s a feeling in the air like a storm coming, an electric prickling along your skin. You feel like something’s happening, something out of your control. You feel yourself touching him, your hands sliding into the fabric of his shirt and gripping tightly, bracing yourself for something yet to come. Simon’s fingers are scalding when he pinches the neck of your sweater between two fingers and peels down, out of the way, revealing your tender throat. The mere act of exposing you makes him inhale shakily.

“I don’t want to frighten you,” he murmurs. “But if I bite you, I won’t be able to stop. I know they’ve taught you that we should if you ask us to. But here, at the estate, things are different.” He caresses you the way you’ve seen others do it, that tender, suggestive stroke of his fingers across your pulse. He’s doing something to you. He must be. You feel unbearably hot. You forget about leaving entirely. You want to tilt your head, bare more of your neck to him. Simon hums in approval and leans in, the sound he makes just nuzzling his face against your throat utterly pornographic. 

He asks, quietly, “Do you want me to bite you?” 

You’re frozen. You can’t answer. You’re just aware enough to know something’s wrong with you, that you’re not thinking clearly. Your fists tighten around the fabric of Simon’s shirt and your breathing is quick and panicked. You feel unbearably hot. You start tugging frantically at your jacket, but Simon stops you, a hand clamping around your wrist. 

“Do you want me to bite you?” he repeats. The words are calm and sweet, and the desperate sharpness of your grip is turning soft, plaintive, your chest heaving with labored breaths as you push yourself against him. He’s hard, you can feel it, you know he wants you, but he’s still as a statue. He doesn’t move no matter how you grind against him and whine his name. “You have to say the words. You have to ask. I won’t do this if you don’t.”

Something in his tone allows you a moment of lucidity. He’s changing. His soft hands are harder, blunt nails extending into claws with a ripping of skin. His pupils are all wrong, diamond-shaped, dilated slits. “Don’t hurt me,” you beg him. “Please. I don’t want to die.” 

Without hesitation, Simon slides one of his sharpened fingers across his palm. The wound oozes, hissing steam. “I swear on my life you’re safe with me,” he says. That’s a big deal. It’s how they make promises to each other. Not to humans, you thought, but he’s looking at you so gently like he’s just realizing how afraid you are. The moment passes. What little lucidity he allowed you dissipates and your body fills with heat. Trembling, you pull his face against the side of your neck and hear him let out a sigh of pleasure. 

“I want you to bite me,” you whisper. 

Simon’s body grows, lengthening, ridges of bone becoming prominent beneath the skin. His wings rip through the back of his shirt. They’re enormous, leathery with hooks of bone at the apex, his wingspan easily able to engulf you and completely hide you from view. They’re damaged, too, stiff with scar tissue and rough along the bottom edge like unraveling fabric. There’s a distinctive rip through one of them, a fluttering patch of broken flesh resting against your shoulder. His face is hidden against your skin so you don’t see what his face becomes, can only guess what’s there by the pins and needles sensation of pointed teeth against your neck. 

He doesn’t make you wait. His teeth sink into your flesh with a wet, sucking sound and you go rigid against him. It’s painful at first. You wriggle in his grip, trying to pull away. Simon makes a growling sound that scares you but his hand strokes slowly along your spine, trying to soothe you. He encourages you to use him, to grind on his thigh or against the bulge in his pants, and you do out of desperation. The pleasure is just sparks to begin with, but you feel it catching. There’s a warm haze in your mind that gets thicker the longer Simon drinks from you. He’s taking from you but he’s giving something back, something thick and heady that makes you go weak in the knees and hold onto him harder. 

He stops just briefly. He fangs slip out of your skin and you hear him moan, feel the soft, warm press of his tongue across his bite. “You’re perfect,” he says hoarsely. His claws shred your jacket and right through your shirt underneath. You don’t care. You’re aware of so little other than the sensations of his hands on your body, the pleasant caress of the air on your bare skin. He’s lifting you, his claws sinking into the meat of your ass—and you’re naked, completely naked, can’t remember how or when, but you don’t care, need him too badly to care. There’s a shredding sound and then a hard cock pressing into you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and start to beg. 

The next bite is better. The pain is still there but the pleasure mingles with it, intertwined in a sharp, maddening way that makes it impossible to separate the two. They enhance each other and you welcome both. Simon goes deeper this time. You feel the clench of his jaw. Slowly, he rocks into you and his slow pace makes you whine and twist in his grasp. The sucking sensation, the way his moans vibrate against your neck, make you arch your back. The more he drinks from you, the more impassioned he gets. He goes from leisurely thrusting to pulling you down onto his cock, driving himself into you hard. 

Every memory you have of Simon Ecklund is tainted. You can’t think of him in the classroom without imagining him like this now, great and monstrous, bending you over a desk with his teeth in your throat. You want more. You want to give him everything, and take all that he has to offer in return. You get it now. You see why people do this, why people chase it, why the Ciborium has elevated it to a religion. There’s nothing like being fed on, nothing like this mix of agony and ecstasy. His fangs throb in your shoulder and you feel yourself tightening around him. Every thrust fills you. You feel as light and helpless as a doll yet painfully precious, held in grasping, greedy hands. You’ve never been so wanted before. You’ve never been so important to someone, their nourishment, their vice. 

Simon rips his teeth out of you again and he’s panting, still licking and sucking at the wound even as he mutters to himself, “Enough. That’s enough. No more.” He forces himself away from the bite, trailing his lips across your jaw and eventually to your lips. Every kiss is clumsy and sharp. You can’t reciprocate properly, can’t do anything but moan helplessly as he bounces you on his cock and licks into your mouth. You taste your own blood as it dribbles from your mouth and he laps hungrily at every last drop. 

Simon comes down from his bloodlust while you’re still inconsolable, begging for another bite. He stays away from your neck no matter how much you plead, his attention shifting to where your bodies are joined. His rhythm is calmer and steadier, no more rough, uneven thrusts. Your vision is blurry and unfocused but he still tucks your face against his chest before you can catch a glimpse of him. He rolls his hips and digs his claws in and it’s almost perfect, almost what you want. “You poor thing,” he murmurs. “You’re going to feel this in the morning.” 

The words are meaningless to you now. Simon grips you like a toy and fucks you the way you want, fast and brutal. It’s enough to help you reach the edge and you cum sobbing, toes curling, your fingers raking along the spines of his wings and making him hiss in pleasure and pain. The aftershocks leave you trembling, holding onto him so tightly that you think you draw blood. Simon makes a rumbling sound that must be contentment, cradling you against his chest. 

“I’m going to find us a room. I drank more than I should have. I’ll fetch you something to keep you stable. They always keep some remedies on hand in case of accidents. And your clothes are…well, Lord Archambault will have some spares,” he says, chuckling quietly. “You’ve given me the evening of my dreams, though I fear you may not feel the same way come morning. I think I can accept that, now that I’ve tasted you. I hope I can.”

You’re moving. You can feel it. Simon is walking, carrying you somewhere. You don’t know where. Can’t tell with the room spinning. Simon kisses your cheek and you mumble sleepily, nuzzling against his chest. The lights dim as he steps into comfortable darkness. You hear a door creaking shut. You’re set somewhere soft and warm, blankets and luxuriously soft pillows. The bed dips. Simon’s hand rubs your back and it’s impossible to keep your eyes open.  

“It’ll be interesting to see you in class on Monday,” he murmurs.

#rotpeach writes #goretober #original

[midnight-in-town]

Choujin X ch33.2 be like

Azuma keeps on learning the hard way that he’s not the hero of Tokio’s story anymore

“if I can’t have the power, then at least Tokio should get it”

Bless Ely, this girl is the absolute soul of this story

oh Tokio, my sweet, very sweet, summer child (poor boy can’t take on the heat of the hero trope)

okay so yeah we definitely don’t stan a goddess cult leader who forces her “prophecies” on a whim onto people around her

finally, i have my doubts about how long that trio of theirs can keep on working half decently without Azuma someone eventually leaving but…

i do enjoy them, they’re cute xD

TL;DR

(additional thoughts on the series overall under read more)

So by ch33 or so, we finally understand the premises of this manga. Slow built-up stories usually don’t bother me, but with the rather shallow depiction of worldbuilding so far, the Choujin X series really mostly has the cast holding the spotlight. And by that, I mean the main characters. So I hope it’ll pick up, because I don’t really understand how this series currently gets a full serialization?

Honestly, I really enjoy the rather strained dynamic between Azuma (who lacks self control) and Tokio (who can’t seem to give it his all) and, as a mirror, the more trusting and complementary dynamic between Tokio and Ely. The dynamic between Ely and Azuma revolves more around Tokio than either of them, but it’s slowly developing on its own terms, which creates a nice contrast between them. 

Ely is an absolute ray of sunshine, who seems more sure of her goals only because she lives with the bad example of her mother as a constant reminder of who she might become, whereas Tokio was sheltered so far by his sister and Azuma and has trouble deciding on how he should live his life. Azuma’s more in a blind corner, because he can’t seem to let go of his knight in shining armor role that he and Tokio bestowed upon him when they were kids: I’d say it’s Expectations™ that would eventually do the most damage on him, but he might still manage to change paths in time. :)

However, the rest of the cast isn’t particularly interesting or well written.

Kagomura’s tragic backstory and Momoma’s obvious kindness are too cliché and don’t cut it for me, though I’d say it’s interesting that Kagomura’s predicament doesn’t put him more at the center of the story. 

Sandek is boring as hell despite supposedly being some kind of mentor and leader figure. 

I enjoy Ichiro’s character, though it’s interesting that he’s not more morally ambiguous considering the emotional strain his choujin powers should put on him. 

As for the villains, the guy in the noh mask is creepy, but for now they’re all nothing more than cultists who believe in the “prophecies” of a mad woman, or mercenaries who get paid for the job. 

Biggest issue with this series and why, in my opinion, it doesn’t get a lot of hype is the lack of worldbuilding. While we now understand the first chapter of the series thanks to the latest released chapter, Choujin themselves and their related powers are still a huge question mark ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. This is most likely because the pace is slow and we have two or three worldbuilding elements which make barely any sense. Specifically, it’s an issue because, without worlbuilding, it’s impossible to replace everything that happens within context. 

If Sensei were to spend a little more thoughts on the worldbuilding, I don’t doubt that this series could become more interesting than it currently is. I don’t know how well it’s received by Japanese readers but, if I’m honest, Ishida-sensei’s previous success with TG is probably the reason why Choujin X has a continued serialization, because I find that on every aspects, aside from the main characters, Choujin X unfortunately doesn’t stand strongly. :/

Soooo, to be continued.

#choujin x #otta ely #kurohara tokio #higashi azuma #so i reread all of it and #on the one hand i'm happy that Ishida sensei takes his time and does what he wants with his series #on the other hand damn sensei please give me context otherwise i can't get bothered to get invested into what's happening #with more worlbuilding this series could skyrocket into something very good #hopefully it'll come soon

[rotteneldritchhorror]

OK SO THANK YOU FOR STEALING MY HC, YOU CAN HAVE THEM

I think the chosen knew he was trans like very young and immediately fell into like toxic masculinity as a way to deal with a transphobic environment. He definitely internalized wayyy more than he externalized, but still, was a bit of shit. But also very young. And over time it got better, but especially the internalized part lingers longer.

And you got this interesting situation where he is a trans guy, but also has 14-year-old cis boy toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia for liking guys and being gay. But like he is a trans guy.

But he slowly grows and fights himself out of it (in my mind augustus plays a huge part in this, he also has problems but different)

And they both end up gender abolitionist and based.

(also autism but I will stop now, this is already so ahhh)

You’re so right and correct

Gender abolitionist chosen and Augustus is not something I really ever thought of but that’s absolutely genius and I’m stealing that too (I mean— I already hc that chosen uses xenogenders cause his gender is literally wolves, werewolves, games he likes, and the matrix movies— so gender abolitionist isn’t too far of a stretch for him lol)

I’ve decided to split my chosen headcanons between our universes Chosen and the BAF legacy universes chosen, BAF legacy chosen is trans to me, so tbh— I’m stealing most of that too to apply to him lol (bar the Augustus stuff probably? But I do think him and Augustus have had a lot of weird talks about gender /pos and they’ve probably caused a lot of identity crises and realisations, mostly through CFM explaining it to chosen and then chosen explaining it to Augustus like it’s something he already knew lol)

Also yes… super mega autism. It wasn’t intentional, but somehow Shayne Topp, a supposedly neurotypical (or at least allistic) man, created one of the most autistic characters in existence.

He stays in the same clothes cause they’re comfortable and it’s his favourite shirt that he’s probably had for at least a decade, he’s so intensely hyperfixated on shit, he probably has the entirety of all of the matrix movies memorised entirely off by heart , he knows way too much about swords and katanas, he speaks weirdly that was definitely just cause he doesn’t know how to talk to people and masks by talking like people do in movies he likes— he’s also quite monotone? And talks about not feeling many emotions (which is like- obviously a lie, but there’s probably a little truth about not having much introspection and people thinking he’s emotionaless because he’s monotoned)

#🪲 #🌀 #smosh chosen #smosh characters #the chosen smosh #smosh augustus #smosh the chosen #smoshblr #smosh cfm #smosh #c!smosh headcanons #there needs to be a tag for smosh characters so I can tag #smosh headcanons #without it looking like I’m hcing real people lol #smosh character hcs #headcanons

[mlobsters]

supernatural s13e15 a most holy man (w. andrew dabb, bob singer)

this episode open in malta and the choral voices and bells and candles and i'm thrown back to half remembering an episode about a haunted painting...? from florence? and trying to remember if that was actually an episode/fic/fever dream (it was, 10x16)

sam managing to find an even more uncomfortable place to use his laptop. fixed metal stool

SAM Worth a shot? DEAN Yeah. Good. Why not? I don’t think I can take another one of these cold pieces of Papa Giovanni’s.

what's up with the cheesy film noir music intro

LOL ok. is he usually annoyed when someone is coming on to sam? seems like he usually thinks it's funny, rolling his eyes or encouraging. i don't recall glaring at the flirt-er being in the repertoire

dean is going through a journey of emotions

interesting the differences in the emotional journey from this version of the script and what made it onscreen lol (production draft linked on wiki)

her voice keeps pinging alicia witt for some reason

spn s13e15 as richard greenstreet, the magicians s1e13 dominic burgess as ember

there's a character named emily greenstreet in the magicians and dominic plays ember who is a god that they're trying to get a powerup (aka jar-o-jizz) from (and they do a small blood sacrifice to him) lol

GREENSTREET I gave up on worthy causes years ago. And as I said, the blood cost me a fortune. Judging by your Montgomery Ward suits and your cheap ties, I’m guessing you don’t have a small fortune, or for that matter, two nickels to rub together. So I’m quite afraid this has been a waste of your time, and more importantly, mine. Good day, gentlemen.

montgomery ward, blast from the past. stores all shuttered by 2000 or something. random reference for this uk character

film noir heist mob movie sure. reminds me of the clue episode.

SAM So, this is what we’ve come to? Thieves? DEAN Hey, you want the blood, right? Well… besides, the thing’s already stolen. SAM Really? That’s your rationale? DEAN Hey, I’m not perfect. And by the way, neither are you, okay? Oh, so, what? Now you’re above a little, uh, chicanery? Look, this isn’t a perfect world we’re trying to save, okay. And if I’m not perfect trying to save it, then so be it. Come on. You with me or not?

not sure why sam's supposedly bothered over this. of all the morally questionable things they've done for The Cause, this is pretty low on the list

sam with the cockblock and all i can think while dean's flirting with this very lovely woman at the coffee shop is how they refuse to drop the busty asian beauties for dean's porn preference.

DEAN Look at you. You’re like a Boy Scout. You’re always prepared. SAM Yeah. You’re like uh… I don’t know what you’re like. DEAN Yeah. Thanks.

proud to pissed in 2 seconds flat. also, kind of cute but what is even going on

i mean. i. listen, they did some real fucking dumbass episodes in the early seasons too, so i shouldn't really complain that it's purely a late season phenomenon. but when the dumbass episode is surrounded by episodes i'm also complaining about it becomes somewhat of a .... 'what am i doing with my life right now' moment

he's been in a ton of stuff but probably the sopranos (which i never did finish) what i know him from

this is something all right. god and it's only halfway through 🥴😩🤪

DEAN Okay, I’m just saying, you’re taking a lot of shots to the head lately. I mean, I know that Disney Princess hair gives you some padding, but, uh…

listen they both surely have CTE by now with the number of concussions they've racked up over the years

FATHER LUCCA It’s not about luck, son. It’s about effort. All the time, I hear people saying the world’s not perfect. And they’re right. It’s not. But do you use that as an excuse? Do you use it to excuse your own sins? Your failings and your laziness? Do you use it to give a bad man power, because the world’s not perfect? Or do you work? Do you try and improve things in whatever way you can? Guys, the world will never be perfect, but if good men do good things, it can be better. Every day can get better.

???? are we trying to..... invigorate the boys to do what's right, have hope, ....???? i don't even know what. but i'm sure gonna start bristling over rando man implying they don't put in the effort to make things better. that's their job and they do fuck up and make bad decisions too but overall their schtick is literally making the world better. but instead we're getting some moralizing speech that i think is to make them feel bad about participating in the the continued theft of an item so that they can get the thing they need to save their family+new-kinda-god-adopted-son

SIGH. it's like this episode is supposed to be tongue in cheek, but it's too serious. so it's like just. fucking weird. because it's not serious enough to be like, slick.

FATHER LUCCA Yeah. He called me un uomo santissimo. SAM What does that mean? FATHER LUCCA “A most holy man.”

did they not google this phrase before this whole waste of time

DEAN Come on. I know that look. What’s on your mind? SAM I don’t know. Nothing. I mean – I mean, you know… You ever feel like we’re – we’re doing nothing but playing defense? You know, bouncing from one apocalypse to the next? DEAN Well, it’s not exactly our call. SAM I know that, and I’m not saying we don’t do good. But – but no matter how many people we save, there will always be more people that need saving. No matter how many monsters we kill–

DEAN There’s always gonna be another one around the corner. SAM Exactly. You think we could ever change things? I mean, really change things? You know, stop all the monsters, all the bad? DEAN That would be nice.

SAM Yeah. So, what are you thinkin’? Think that’ll work? DEAN I have faith.

loaded term that is for them. anyway, circles back to how for what felt like a while there, sam was the reassuring reasonable collected one and dean was needing some anchoring. but now it's dean's turn to be the one with faith they can get whatever done. but what got me about this exchange is that like.. dean often times would get a little defensive when sam would bring things up like this, brush him off. but now it's like he's actually listening and understanding where he's coming from and wishes it was better but accepts that it probably won't be. and it's honestly just nice to see dean being positive and a support for sam.

annoyed that there's that nice (for me) character moment in an episode that will otherwise likely erase from my brain in a few days

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 13x15 #spn script #andrew dabb #bob singer #spnhiky #hiky #dominic burgess #the magicians #spnwhinge

[winns-stuff]

LO RANT:

Okay this is petty to say, but it’s late and I was thinking about Lore Olympus heading into it’s new episodes and I just… I don’t get it. All the plots are kinda done and over with if you think about it, toxic girlfriend is gone, kronos is dead, no more college, no more TGEOM, no more controlling mom, and no AOW storyline. What will be left is Apollo, marriage, babies and you can easily just give that one or a few episodes because let’s be fr, Rachel did that with the whole 10 year thing. Everything is gonna be dealt with without any character development or any real message. This is supposedly a feminist story yet it depicts the story of a young girl falling for an older much richer and powerful man and the young girl leaving everything she loves and everyone she loves to be with this man after three weeks just to marry and have kids. I don’t know about you guys but I just don’t want to see Persephone become a housewife, I don’t want her to be just a baby maker for Hades and before you even say anything let’s be real that’s where this story is going you may not like how I say it but I’m saying this in the nicest way I possibly can. Persephone is literally just there to “fix Hades”, give him kids, and be with him so he won’t be lonely. He’s so dependent on her emotionally that he physically doesn’t know what to do with himself, a lot of people mistake that for love but in the context of their relationship I see it as desperation.

Hades has always been desperate. Desperate to be like his brothers, to have a queen, to have a wife, to not be lonely. He’d literally pick anyone to be his wife at this point if he hadn’t met Persephone because we’ve seen him trying to flirt with women before, it’s always giving escort and no I don’t mean to sound like I’m shaming escorts or anything that’s pretty dumb seeming as they’re literally doing a job but in this context the women he’s choosing aren’t escorts they’re just unlucky women who have to deal with him. He pays them and buys them gifts and everything and gives them everything they have just so they’ll stay with him. I’ve been noticing that, and then once he finds another young woman he does the same thing. That man is so utterly pathetic it’s scary, if you’re ever going to get into a relationship you should at the very least deal with very huge behavioral problems, for example Hades’ temper, something doesn’t go his way he riots like a child or you disagree with him and he’s upset, you give him criticism and he’s rushing out in the rain. You see what I’m getting at? Hades isn’t a very suitable person because he expects the woman in the relationship to be able to fix himself for him, to make all his problems go away, to deal with him at his ugliest and everything when he can’t even comfort and help Persephone when she confessed to him, or Minthe when she was getting insulted (badly might I add) by his own family to his face. He doesn’t even try being there yet those women are gonna have to bend over backwards to please him or he’ll go find someone else to whine to. Hades is pathetic and I despise him immensely, I hate him with the passion of a thousand suns and I wanna make that intensely clear to anyone who comes across this page for the first time. He was never a good person and he can’t even better his ways for Persephone.

Anyways, that’s the end of this rant. I’m a little eager for Saturday since I have a few things I wanna say about the episode but yeah, school is back in session as most of you know and I am running out of rants and even some appreciations. I believe I was going to appreciate Artemis next though so I’ll just use this post to remind me whenever I get the chance. But as I always say these are completely meaningless I don’t want anyone taking this seriously, I’m just stating my thoughts and opinions and if you agree with it that’s great and if you don’t that’s great too. By the way, this isn’t to bash Hades Lovers or anything if you like the man I don’t want you to back down from him just because I, a random teen on the internet, said something about it. If he’s your type he’s your type and this wasn’t a bash or anything so hopefully it doesn’t seem like it if it does I’m very sorry.

#lo critical #anti lore olympus #anti lo #lore olympus critical

[schroedingers-dylan]

I feel like we as a fandom don’t take advantage of Kaitlyn and Jacob being childhood friends enough so drop any amount of headcanons for them growing up.

I’ll start:

-They live in the same street and their parents are close friends. They both grew up as the only child in the household so they’d always play with each other when they were little.

-They’ve known each other since they were in diapers and have about a bazillion embarrassing childhood photos of the other. Favorites include: child Jacob hanging upside down from the fridge in a Spider-Man costume (and the aftermath of him lying on the floor when he fell off), the time kid Kaitlyn tried to look cool in front of Jacob’s extended family but ended up falling into his pool fully clothed and the time they messed around with water colors and ended up covered in them top to bottom. Also those including several different sets of animal pajamas.

-They’ve had approximately a million sleepovers growing up, and sleeping in bed next to each other is just the most normal thing ever for them.

-Kaitlyn is super messy and Jacob is the tidiest person ever so this drives him crazy. When he’s over at her house he always starts cleaning up her room and it drives her crazy because there (supposedly) is a system to her chaos and if he cleans up she can’t find her stuff anymore. I can’t even explain why but this is just a vibe I’m getting from them.

-When they were younger, Kaitlyn was the taller one. Jacob was a super scrawny kid. After his growth spurt, it took ages for the rest of his features to catch up.

-Jacob was the first person Kaitlyn came out to as bi.

-People have been assuming they’re dating since they were twelve.

-Surprisingly, them making out in freshman year did not help these rumors.

-Jacob has called Kaitlyn in the middle of the night several times to ask her to come get a spider out of his room. She usually obliges but always teases him relentlessly about it.

-Jacob is on their high school football team. Kaitlyn goes to every game but consistently pretends she doesn’t know/understand the rules because it annoys the shit out of him.

-As much as Kaitlyn teases Jacob, the second anyone tries to put him down for being an emotional person because that’s “girly” or something equally stupid they get verbally obliterated. One of the guys she did it to hasn’t even dared to look in Jacob’s general direction for years.

-Kaitlyn is super bad at putting herself first. She’s the kind of group mom that makes sure everyone else is well-rested and has eaten and then collapses because she’s slept three hours over the last two days. Jacob knows her well enough to recognize the signs and sits her the fuck down to make sure she’s okay too because she herself sure as hell won’t do it.

-They have each other‘s stuff all over their rooms, a combination of intentionally stored and forgotten there over the years.

-Kaitlyn is an absolute menace when it comes to food. She will try anything and everything. The type to order Creole Tomato at an ice cream parlor. Has been trying to bait Jacob into getting one of her weird flavors for years. He keeps rejecting her in favor of ordering chocolate for the millionth time.

-Despite his extreme and very vocal loathing for Kaitlyn’s taste in food, he still makes sure they have flaming hot dill pickle chips whenever they have a movie night. He’s a good best friend like that.

-They ended up in different crowds in high school due to him being on the football team and her being in the robotics club. They still always made time for each other and are each other’s number one person to go to when they’re excited about something or need to vent.

-Neither of them is a morning person. Jacob isn’t a morning person in the sense that his brain doesn’t function properly, Kaitlyn isn’t a morning person in the sense that heads will roll at the slightest inconvenience. They take turns driving to school and paying for coffee.

-Their taste in music is totally incompatible. Instead of compromising and making a playlist with each of them picking half the songs, they made one together titled “favorites of yours that don’t make me want to rip my ears off.”

-They have Disney movie nights regularly. Jacob started that tradition when they were kids and they’ve kept it up since with very few exceptions. They’ve already agreed to keep them up when at college (either in person or via video call depending on which colleges they end up with).

-Being camp counselors was Kaitlyn’s idea, an opportunity to spend one last summer together before they go off to college. They’ve both been camping before (separately and also together) and really enjoyed it and Jacob loves kids (he has a bunch of younger cousins, maybe a baby brother too, haven’t decided yet) so it being a good time was basically a given.

-Jacob teased her relentlessly for picking scheduling, out of all the jobs she could’ve done at camp.

-They drove to camp together, taking Kaitlyn’s car. Jacob loaded their stuff into the trunk and organized it because *spacial awareness* and Kaitlyn told him he’s being ridiculous since they only had like maybe four bags total but let him do it anyway.

#they are so important to me #the promised not-a-shitpost #the quarry #kaitlyn ka #jacob custos #the quarry Jacob #the quarry Kaitlyn #the quarry headcanons #supermassive games #kaitlyn x jacob #feel free to read this as shippy or not by the way #whatever you feel comfortable with #I’m a sucker for childhood friends to lovers but I also think they are very neat platonically so #the main point I’m making here is that I need more content featuring them in general #for context I do not think they made out in front of anyone since that defeats the purpose of kissing practice #but I feel like one of them casually mentioned it at one point and everyone else was like ‘uhhhh’ #can’t believe Emma doesn’t canonically tease them about this if she finds out that is a crime

[oddsandendsandthings]

Tattered Puppets AU

The Welcome Home puppets were ripped to shreds and left to rot in the recording studio! And my OC Adrian who made his career in fixing up toys to resell buys the studio to expand his business and finds them. Wally sees the opportunity to save his friends and himself decides to convince the man by any means necessary.

Some horror elements, angst with a happy ending, and Wally/Male OC if you squint

You can read it here or find it on Ao3 here

He’d lost track of how long he’d been here. All this time in the dark had made time lose all meaning.

It was quiet. So so quiet. He couldn’t even hear their crying anymore.

All there was to fill the silence was the ever-swirling ringing of static echoing in his ears.

“Hello?” His voice echoes so quietly that he can barely hear it himself. “Helloooo?”

Tears drip from his cheeks when there is no reply.

“Beautiful dreamers, wake unto me… Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee..”  If they’re all still sleeping, then he’ll sing them a lullaby to lure them to a pleasant dream. And when they wake, they can all laugh and play and sing together again.

Until then, he’ll watch over them. Just like he always has.

—-------------------------------

Today was going to be a great day! Adrian grinned as he clutched the last of the paperwork he needed to submit to get the keys to his new studio. Sure the place had been abandoned since the seventies and was supposedly haunted. But who cared about that when it came at a quarter of the price of anywhere else in a hundred miles!

“Are you sure you want to buy this place without even looking at it first?” His leasing agent Rachelle asked when he slid the paperwork across her desk and took a seat.

“I mean I saw the pictures you provided.” He shrugged casually and sat back. “And you were the one to refuse to take me to see it in person.”

“And I still refuse to step back in that place after the last guy I sent to survey the place turned in his camera and quit that day.” She says as she levels him with a wary look. “The last people I leased the building to also returned their keys in the first 24 hours. Shoot! This place hasn’t had a tenant last longer than 3 days before abandoning it again in the past 50 years! I just don’t want to deal with having to fill out more paperwork and save you from making a poor financial decision in the process.”

Adrian shrugs, completely unaffected. “I hear you, but I’m gonna do it anyways. I need a place big enough to house all my sewing supplies and still have room to work. And my tiny little apartment isn’t cutting it anymore! Plus I've been wanting to expand my business into a real location for a long time now.” He laughs and shrugs dramatically. “This place has triple the space I need for way less than the price of anywhere else! Which will mean more money in my pocket for my growing business! Maybe even enough to hire someone else to help out!”

“If you can find anyone as crazy as you.” She mutters under her breath and sighs as she looks through the paperwork. “Well, everything appears to be in order and the deposit you submitted last week did clear. So here are the keys to your new studio, Mr. Summerset.” She says and stands to shake his hands as he takes the keys. “Just don’t make me regret this.”

“Oh come on!” He laughs standing as he takes her hand. “Even if the place is haunted, I’m sure I can handle some wannabe Casper.”

“I hope you’re right,” She sighs as she flops back into her chair and reaches into her cabinet to pull out a flask. “For both our sakes.”

Adrian smiles brightly as he pulls up to his new studio. He was practically vibrating with excitement. He was finally onto the next step of his dream of turning his little hobby of fixing up toys into a real business! Sure the place looked more than a little shabby all boarded up like this. And who knows what the inside looks like through 50 years of neglect? But as long as there’s no angry drug addict living in here, he should be fine!

Just in case he does a quick walk around the building to look for any signs of a break-in. Surprisingly, there are no signs of forced entry which was a great sign of there being no crazy hobos! Hiking back to his car, he pulls out his prybar from the trunk he bought for just this special occasion.

Time to take down those boards and bring in the light! It would probably be another 72 hours for the electric company to turn back on the power for this place. And he did NOT have the extra dough for a generator to last him in the meantime. So he will do all the things he could do without electricity in this place in the meantime! And the first step to that was to onboard these windows. He cracked the crowbar into the gap between rotted plywood and the wall and pulled. With a sickening SHUNK, the board easily pulled away from the window like wet paper and fell to the ground.

“One down!” Adrian huffed as he haughtily swung his crowbar onto his shoulder and walked to the next window. “Nine to go! Easy peasy, lemon squeezy!” He laughs as he repeats the process. “At this rate, I’ll have plenty of time to start on the inside before lunch!”

—---------------------------

Light. There was actual light streaming through the windows.

When was the last time he had seen the sun? He’d forgotten how warm it felt.

His brief moment of happiness was shattered at the realization of what this could mean.

Someone was coming.

—--------------------------------

The lock gave quite a fight from years of disuse. But eventually, the redheaded man was able to finally get it to relent and let him into the building. “Honey I’m home!” He couldn’t help but call into the empty building with a laugh.

The windows were so dusty he couldn’t get a good look inside while he was pulling off the plywood from the windows. But he was happy to see that, although very dusty and dirty, the entrance to the place was pretty usable. The floors and ceiling were intact and all the light fixtures still hung from their proper places. There was even a desk and chair still in here that looked to still be pretty sturdy! Bonus work surface!

He walked up to the desk to get a closer look. It still very much looked to be from the 70s, but it could still be of use for his purposes! There were still papers in it that would need to be cleaned out though. “Guess this place used to be a recording studio for a knock-off Sesame Street.” Adrian hummed as he looked at the desk calendar that listed off a recording schedule and various meetings. There was even a magazine ad for toys for the show and a copy of a kids' book of the characters

“Wonder if the place is haunted by the vengeful spirit of Elmo for straying on his turf!” He laughs and puts the book back on the table.

He walks into the studio proper and is greeted by a sight that sucks the previous levity out of him. It looked like someone had filmed a snuff film for puppets in here. Pieces of the smiling, child-friendly characters were scattered all over the place. On the stage proper was what he guessed was the main character of the show. Wacky? Wally? Something with a W! The roughly 3-foot-tall puppet was pinned to the giant red house by its hand almost like an Elvis puppet Jesus with his chest cut open. All of it was enough to give Hannibal Lecter some ideas.

“I guess the place was broken into after all.” He sighed and shook his head sadly as he carefully picked his way through the carnage. “Just by some sickos with nothing better to do than rip apart dolls instead of loot the place.” He carefully picks the head up of a blue dog puppet to inspect the damage a little closer. “None of you deserved that.”

He froze when something fuzzy brushed past his leg. Oh god, he hopes this place isn’t infested with rats. He looks to the ground and shrieks and he drops the plush head. A pink puppet arm was grabbing his leg. Not just draped on his leg. Actively gripping it as he flailed it around.

“What the fuck!” He shouts as he finally shakes it loose and flings it across the room.

“...-lp” A voice whispers so quietly he almost doesn’t hear it. In Adrian’s defense, he was much more preoccupied with the various other puppet limbs that seem to have also come to life and begun crawling towards him.

“Help.” He hears more clearly as he climbs the stage to get away from the puppets’ grasp. He turns to the sound only to come face to face with the pinned puppet. It’s looking at him now with black goo dripping from its eyes that look like tears. “Please… Help us.”

Adrian curls up tightly into a ball unable to cope with the horrifying sight. He feels his breathing quicken as he hears the limbs of the other puppets slap into the lip of the stage as they pull themselves up to continue their chase after him. He blacks out as soon as he feels another felt arm crawl its way up his back.

—------------------------------------

Wally watches as the redhead in front of him collapses from a panic attack. This human was stranger than the others who had come in the past. He was the first to show any kind of compassion towards his friends’ sorry state.

“Friends… please.” He coughs trying to speak louder than a whisper. “G-give him some space. We don’t want to scare off a new neighbor do we?”

He glanced at the crowbar that had fallen from the man’s grip. Even when he was clearly terrified of them, he hadn’t used it as a weapon against his friends. Maybe this one would actually listen and help them.

Time would tell in the end. If his guess was wrong, he would get rid of him the way he did the others.

—-----------------------------------

Adrian awoke with a loud gasp for air as he sprang bolt upright. Based on the dim lighting in here it was now closer to sundown than noon. He looked around himself and it seemed the puppet limbs had gone back to their original positions. Did he get heat stroke and imagine all that?

“Oh good. You’re awake.” A gravelly voice says, making him freeze and stare up at the puppet still pinned to the house prop. It was looking at him with a stare that made him feel like he was the one pinned in place. “You're not going to scream again, are you?”

“Please,” Adrian begs as he scrambled backward away from the strung-up puppet. “I-I don’t mean any harm! I’m just a starving artist in need of a place to work! You know artists, right??? I’m really just skin and bones so please don't eat me!”

“Ha ha ha ha!” The laugh was so distorted it felt like nails on a chalkboard. It immediately shut the ginger man up from his mad ravings to just stare wide-eyed at the puppet. “Now why would we eat you? You humans come up with the craziest of ideas. What’s your name, friend?”

“I-it’s Adrian.” He stutters out not wanting to aggravate the demonic puppet. They may not want to eat him but that doesn’t mean they don’t want to hurt him. “I’ll do whatever you want! Just please let me go!”

Wally stared at the man in front of him for a long moment. His crowbar was still in his hands but he still didn’t use it in favor of just begging for his life. Maybe he could get this human to do what he wanted after all. He smiled to himself, the first genuine one he’d had in a long time. “Well, how can I deny a friend such a polite request? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Adrian. My name is Wally. And there actually is something you can do for me.”

Adrian nodded his head rapidly in agreement. He just needed this thing to let him go and then he could be free of this place! Sure he just lost a massive security deposit from leasing this place. But at least he’d still be alive!

Adrian gulped and flinched as a grey arm inched its way to him. “A-and how can I do that?”

“My friends and I have just gone to pieces.” Wally laughs humorlessly at him. “In exchange for your freedom, I want you to put us back together again.”

Adrian nervously looks at all the pieces of puppet scattered around the room. He was still terrified. Who wouldn’t be when face to face with real, living puppets? But, he remembered how sad it made him to see them in this state in the first place. And maybe if he fixed them up, they’d keep to their word of not killing him.

“I don’t really have anything on me to do that right now.” He started carefully as he stood back up on shaky legs. “And this place won’t have any power for a few days even if I brought my sewing machine with me.”

“Then take me with you,” Wally says evenly as he stared the human down. One last scare should have the man crumbling to his whims. “Show me you’re worthy of fixing them and once they’re all fixed we’ll let you go and you’ll never hear from us again. Or I could simply…” He reached into that blackness within his soul that terrified him and summoned it to the forefront. The world around them went dark around the two of them like a shrinking spotlight and the ground began to rumble violently under their feet.

“Ok! Ok! I’ll take you with me!! Just stop! Please!” Adrian shrieked as he inched closer and closer to the puppet to try and stay in the light. He clutched the crowbar in his hand tight to his chest more like a security blanket than a weapon.

The world immediately returned to the original brightness and Wally smiled brightly at him that would actually be kind of cute if he hadn’t been so terrifying 2 seconds earlier. “Perfect!”

Adrian carefully examined the nails holding the puppet in place. They looked like whoever had done this had used a nail gun to pin him. They were almost buried in the felt. “Is it going to hurt you to take these out?” He couldn’t help but ask curiously.

“I’m just a simple puppet made of felt and fluff. How could you possibly hurt me?” He says solemnly and for the first time breaks eye contact with the human to look at the floor. It was easier to bear the pain if he didn’t see it happen.

The man couldn’t help the sad ping that tore through his heart at that response. Even though the puppet could clearly end him in an instant, it still took a shocking amount of trust to allow him this close.

“Well… I would say you’re more than just a simple puppet.” He laughs nervously and looks away when the puppet’s gaze snaps back to him. “S-so it makes sense to ask, y’know?”

“They need to be taken out whether they’ll hurt or not,” Wally said instead of answering the human’s earnest question. “So just make it quick.” The redhead nodded in understanding and, as carefully as he could, slid the crowbar behind the puppet’s hand and pulled.

The hand pulled free easily and fell limply to Wally’s side. The puppet slowly held his hand in front of his face and flexed his fingers. He couldn’t even remember what it was like to be able to freely use his hand like this. It barely registered to him as the other hand quickly followed suit. Without his arms being forcibly held up, he couldn’t help but sink to his knees.

Adrian stood there helplessly as he watched the puppet sitting on the floor just staring at his own hands. He didn’t know what to say or do in a situation that was so clearly emotionally monumental for the tiny being. After a minute passed he couldn't help but utter “Uhhh…. you okay?” Nailed it.

Wally’s head snapped to the human after being reminded of his presence. Right. He needed to be a scary “demonic” monster to get the human to do what he needed him to. “You’d have a hard time standing too if you were nailed to a wall for.. glory knows how long.”

Adrian flinches at the sudden stare, but he has to continue if he wants to be out of there before dark. Judging by the fading light, it was sundown now and they’d be lucky to have another half an hour of daylight. “So how do you want me to do this? I don’t know if we have the time to gather all your… friends.”

It would probably take at least an hour to collect all the little parts and pieces of the shredded puppets and probably multiple trips in his tiny sedan to transport it all. And secretly, he didn’t want those puppet parts crawling all over him in his car.

Wally looks desperately around at his friends’ scattered parts. He didn’t want to leave them here. They had suffered so much for so long. How could he possibly leave them? But if he let the human go without him, he would never return. Nobody ever returned. He closed his eyes tightly and sighed. “Take me tonight, and we can return for the rest of them tomorrow.” He said finally turning back to the man.

“...Did-Did you need me to carry you?” He asked nervously not wanting to upset the puppet. When all the puppet did was stare, he backtracked. “I mean- Not that I’m not saying you’re weak or anything! You just- You said that you had a hard time standing! So I c-could help you!”

Wally laughed at the nervous man in front of him. He couldn’t help but find it funny how skittish the human was. “Yes. You can carry me.”

He hesitated for a second on grabbing the little yellow puppet. But he carefully scooped him up and gripped him similar to how you hold a sleepy toddler with the puppet's head propped up on his shoulder. “Alright, let’s head out.”

As the two walked towards the entrance of the building, Wally waved at his friends. “We’ll be back tomorrow, friends. Please… wait for me until then.”

—--------------------------

The car ride back was awkward as hell. Wally spent most of the drive staring out the window. Adrian couldn’t help but wonder if this was his first time seeing the outside world. All signs pointed to that being the case. He had no idea what to say in these situations.

Eventually, he made it back to his apartment complex and carried him up the stairs the same way he had back at the studio. He fumbled one-handedly with the keys and opened the door to his shitty one-bedroom flat.

“Welcome the Chez Adrien’s!” He couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly as he flipped on the light switch.

The place was just as messy as he’d left it with pieces of yarn, fabric, and thread all over the place. He placed Wally down on the ratty couch he’d gotten from a nearby thrift store and turned to walk into the kitchen.

“Before I do anything else, I need to eat! I haven’t had anything since breakfast this morning and man am I starving!” He was rambling and he knew it. It was just too awkward not to fill the silence! “Did you want anything?” He asked as he dug out some Chinese takeout from the fridge and popped it in the microwave.

“I’m a puppet.” Wally’s laughed incredulously. This human just kept throwing his expectations in terms of how he’d react to his presence. Sure the man was scared, but even then he showed a surprising amount of care and consideration despite that.

“Oh. Right. Yeah, that makes sense.” Adrian laughs nervously from his spot in the kitchen.

Wally takes the time to look around the cramped apartment. There’s a ton of fabric lying around all over the place. There's a table in the corner that he can see houses a sewing machine. So he wasn’t lying about saying he needed power for the machine.

Glancing back to the kitchen and seeing the human’s back was turned towards the microwave. Carefully, so as not to gain the redhead’s attention, he slid from the couch and walked over to the table to see what was on it. His eyes widened seeing the hollowed-out husk of a large stuffed brown dog.

“Huh? Where’d you go?” Adrian’s voice called making the puppet jump. He placed his plate on the coffee table and walked over to him. “It didn’t take you to start exploring, huh?”

“What is this?” Wally’s voice was eerily calm as he pointed at the seemingly mutilated stuffed toy.

The redhead followed his hand and blinked in confusion before a realization dawned on him. “Wha- Oh! Oooooh! It’s not what it looks like I swear!” He waves his hands in front of him as if to dispel the bad energy pouring off the puppet. “Th-this is actually my business I bought the studio for!” The energy starts to darken around the room as the lights flicker. “Let me explain! Let me explain!!”

“It better be good, Human.” The puppet says darkly.

“I’m fixing him!” He says panicked as he picks up the deflated brown dog toy. “This is Darby! His owner has had him for decades and her partner paid me to fix him up for her birthday!” The dark energy releases a little as the lights finally stop flickering. “So while yes, I did have to take him apart to be able to patch his missing sections of fur and completely resew him a new nose and replace one of his eyes-” He glanced over at where the puppet was staring at him he coughed. “All that is to say, I had to take him apart a little to make him better again. I was going to restuff him and sew him back together tonight if I hadn’t gotten…” He trailed off before he could finish that sentence. Best not to antagonize the pissed-off puppet any further.

Wally couldn’t help but blink in shock at the man. “You are by far the strangest man I have ever met.” He couldn’t help but laugh incredulously.

He blushes and clutches the doll to his chest. “It’s a legitimate business! I started with just fixing up dolls and toys I got for cheap in thrift stores and reselling them. After a while, a friend suggested I record myself doing it and suddenly it skyrocketed and I was flooded with requests for different restorations.” He looks down at the doll in his hands with a sappy smile. “It’s actually really nice to give these toys a new lease on life to bring joy to more people.”

If puppets could blush, Wally would have been bright red. This man was just adorable in the earnest joy of his craft. He almost felt bad for scaring the man into this. Maybe he could have just asked him to help them earnestly instead of using intimidation and it would still have ended with the same results. He shook his head to clear that thought. Humans couldn’t be trusted to always put their best foot forward. He and his friends are proof of that.

“Then it should be no issue to fix me and my friends quickly then.” He says instead of responding to the man’s adorable ramblings.

“It really shouldn’t!” He placates rapidly and places the toy back on the table. “Speaking of… Let me finish eating and then I can start sewing you back up.” He points back to the couch where his leftovers were rapidly cooling on the coffee table. Wally nods and the two sit back on the couch, though the puppet himself needed a hand to help him up.

The room was completely silent save for the sound of Adrian eating his two-day-old lo mein. This is more awkward than the car ride! He mourned silently as he took another bite. The puppet was just sitting there watching him eat! Usually, he’d put on the TV while he ate. But his mother taught him that it was rude to do that with guests.

“S o! ” He coughs when his voice cracks and blushes in embarrassment. “T-tell me about your friends.”

Wally just tilts his head and stares at him for a long moment. It was just fun watching this human squirm. “What do you want to know about?” He finally asks instead.

“Anything, honestly.” He scratches the back of his head nervously. “The only thing I really know is that you and your friends were part of some kind of TV show… I think.”

It stung worse than he thought that all of his and his friends’ hard work was so easily forgotten by the public. “... Well there’s Barnaby. He’s the head you picked up. He was also my best friend. He loved to tell jokes and gave the best hugs. And then there’s Julie. She was as bright as a rainbow and would do anything to put a smile on your face. It’s why she was never far behind Frank who was always a sourpuss. About the only thing that could put him in a good mood is his butterflies or getting a visit from Eddie. Eddie was our mailman but he was also our good friend. He’d always teach us a new craft or skill he learned on his journeys. You could always rely on him to be a good shoulder to lean on. He was just like Poppy in that sense. She was a lot like how I imagined a mom would be. Always there to help if you had a problem or were just in need of a treat! Though she was also a huge scaredy cat. One time Sally put on a performance of Chicken Little that had her cowering in the dressing room all day because she thought the sky was going to fall on her. Sally was always looking for new stories to perform for us. And of course, there’s Howdy! He always had what you would need both in the show and out! He was also just as funny as Barnaby when it came to telling jokes. We were all such good friends through it all.”

Adrian nervously gulped down the last bite of his food. Sure he was doing all this to fix his friends. But he talked as if they were dead. And what caused them to end up in the state that he’d found them in in the first place?  But something told me nothing good would come of asking that.  Instead, he said, "They sound like a lot of fun... You really care about them, don't you?"

“We’ve been through everything together. I’d do anything to make sure they’re safe.” The puppet said solemnly and turned his gaze towards the sewing machine table.

The redhead followed his gaze to the table then back at the sad puppet again. Well, he wasn’t gonna be rid of this nightmare unless he fulfilled his end of the bargain. He stood, empty plate forgotten, and rolled his shoulders. “Ready?” He asked with his hand outstretched for the puppet.

Wally looked back and forth between the man’s face and his offered hand. Now that the time had come to be fixed, he was nervous. If this human wanted to, he could destroy him the way the others had destroyed his friends. Even if he used his parlor trick on the man, he would still be stuck in this place without any way of getting back to his friends. Could he really go through with trusting him?

“Listen,” Adrian started and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through. But I’m sure it makes it hard to trust others. For what it’s worth: I can at least promise you that I’ll do my best not to intentionally hurt you.”

Wally stared at the man for another long moment looking for any reason to distrust the man. But he didn’t see a hint of malice in him. So hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed the offered hand with a smile. “I’ll hold you to that, neighbor.”

—---------------------------------------

6 Months Later:

“Hiya everyone! I know it’s been a while since I last updated but that’s because I have some exciting news I’m finally ready to share!” Adrian says cheerfully to the camera and waves for the camera person to follow him inside a brightly painted building.

“As many of you know I was approved for a business loan and would move forward with making Stitched Together a real place you could visit.” He excitedly bounces as he opens the doors wide open. “It hasn’t been easy, but I was able to find help in some new friends that really helped speed up the process!”

The portion of the studio that was once the dilapidated front desk had been converted into a cheery shop that any kid would dream of. The shelves were lined with toys and art kits. “This is our store where you can come and shop my stock of custom-made toys in person! We’ll also sell crafting supplies and craft kits. There’s also a rotating stock of limited edition plushes that you can only find here!” He says with a bright grin and takes a plush Barnaby doll off the shelf to wave at the camera.

He walks further in and turns to a counter off the side with a sign hanging overhead reading Hospital . “As the sign says, this is where you can come to drop off your plush friend for repairs!”

He rings the bell and Poppy walks out with a nervous smile on her beak. “We-Welcome to the Doll Hospital!” She nervously stammers out.

“This is Poppy!” Adrian smiles and dramatically waves his arm to present her. “She will be here to help you fill out the intake form and ensure your friend gets the best of care!” He fake-whispers to the camera, “She’s a little shy so please be nice!”

Poppy’s feathers ruffle in embarrassment. “You didn’t have to tell everyone that!”

“Sorry!” The redhead giggles and waves to Poppy as he walks to the adjacent counter where Howdy was wiping down the counter. “When you’re ready to check out, Howdy is your guy!”

Howdy waves and smiles. “I’m always here to help! And don’t be afraid to ask me any questions.”

Adrian’s face goes serious as he nods along. “He honestly knows more about what’s in stock than I do. Howdy! How many pottery kits do we have in stock?”

“We have 10 out on the floor and 20 in the storage in the back.” The large caterpillar states without batting an eye.

“See? Man’s a genius.” Adrian says proudly while the puppet rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment from the praise. He then turns and walks to the area off from the counter where they had set up several tables. Eddie, Frank, and Jullie were sat at one of those tables working on making friendship bracelets.

“This is our crafts area where you can work if you just can’t wait to get home to try out our craft kits.” Adrian introduces and goes to sit at the table with the puppets. “We’ll also have craft classes for people of all ages hosted by our teachers: Eddie, Frank, and Julie!” He points to each of them by name and they wave to the camera.

“I’m just soooo excited to meet you!” Julie smiles at the camera and waves excitedly. In doing so she sends the bracelet Frank had been tying to her wrist flying. “Ooops! Sorry, Frank!”

Frank huffs grumpily and walks to sweep up the beads. “Guess I’ll have to make the next one Julie-proof.”

“I think I could help you with that!” Eddie chimes in and starts to cut some long pieces of embroidery floss.

“You guys are meanies.” Julie pouts in a way that is still utterly adorable.

“We’ll leave them to it!” Adrian laughs and stands to walk through the double doors leading to the back.

The studio had another wall put in separating the studio from the very back of the warehouse. All that remained was the stage where they had set up some chairs for performances. Sally and Barnaby were on the stage chatting, likely about what to perform next.

“This place used to be a studio and we decided it would be a shame to throw out the stage. So instead we will host shows and dramatic story time for kids! Entry to shows will be free with any purchase in the store!”

“Our opening day performance will be a retelling of the age-old classic: Stone Soup!” Sally says brightly with a show of jazz hands.

“It’s going to rock .” Barnaby laughs as Sally groans in dismay at the pun. “Hey! Don’t take my rock puns for granite ! A good performer should keep their coal . Of quartz, you should already know that.”

“Stopstopstopstop.” Sally giggles helplessly behind her hands.

Adrian and the camera guy are laughing outright from all the puns. “As you can see, it’s going to be a rocking good time.” He laughs as Sally groans even louder.

The video cuts to everyone on the stage waving at the camera. Adrian glanced down to Wally where their hands were clasped. He was looking the happiest he'd ever seen him. It had been a long journey with a fair share of arguments and compromises, but they'd finally done it. He glances back at the camera to begin his closing remarks. “Our grand opening is this weekend and we hope you enjoyed the tour. If you live in downtown LA and hope to join us, you will find our store hours posted on our website! We hope to see you soon and thanks for watching!"

#welcome home #wally darling #this idea would not leave me alone #so I wrote a 5k+ fic about it #please read it!