#instead of rotting in a prison the boys have been doing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunniekittiee · 8 months

Text

heaven beside you- johnny slaughter x reader

Warning: DEAD DOVE, suicidal reader, suicide, abuse, Johnny is a POS again.

18+ MDNI

The gentleness in those rough, calloused hands sickened her to the core. The same hands that mutilated her friends in cold blood were the same ones he used to give her pleasure, abuse her, caress her. He feigned innocence at the beginning of her capture, always being sweet with that Southern talk he made to reel her in. Made her fall in love. But that innocence rotted away like her friends did in that basement. As time passed, he began to show more and more of his untrustworthiness. He was only gentle when he wanted something from her, and she had no other choice but to obey.

It was hard when the only person she relied on was a monster. A monster who raked his claws into her body, savoring her taste and licking his chops. The monster that stared at her with steel, cold eyes. No signs of fondness. He only wanted her for himself, making sure the others knew she was not for them. It was isolating.

It took a toll. Eventually she slept through many hours of the day, barely awake when he was ravaging her body. Sleep was an escape, she dreamed of what could not be. She saw her friends, happy in a field of flowers, sunflowers. When she was dreaming, the emptiness dissipated. But as soon as she opened her eyes, realizing she was not with her friends or family, it seeped back into her body.

She was always tired. Tired of being stuck in that decaying room, tired of being chained up like a rabid animal, tired of being a play thing for a murderous man, tired of this life. She wanted to move on, she was not welcome in this life anymore as it had been overridden with tangled weeds. It was not hers anymore. But he noticed that his little bunny was not who she once was.

“Why are ya’ always sleepin’?” he asked her one day, tapping her face with an open palm. “Ya’ always asleep when I see ya’. I miss ya’.”

But she knew he did not miss her. The serpent was speaking his lies again into her ear, just as the serpent convinced Eve to eat the Forbidden Fruit. She did not reply back, she stared at him with vacant eyes. And he stared back.

The routine had changed up for the first time one day. Instead of Johnny bringing her a plate of an unknown meat that made her queasy, it was Bubba. He sauntered in, a little nervous and she perked up immediately. Bubba was one of the more “nicer” ones of the family as he did not make an effort to make her more miserable. He grunted as he set the plate down, glancing at her.

“Hey,” she rasped.

Bubba looked at her, tilting his head slightly for her to continue.

“I have a favor to ask.”

He side-eyed the door, afraid Johnny would come in and see them interacting. Bubba heeded his warning and stayed away from his prisoner because he was afraid of what Johnny would do. He groaned worriedly.

“Kill me.” she said as she crawled to him. “Kill me now. Please, please put me out of my misery.” Her eyes were glossy, the first signs of emotion she had shown in a long time.

Bubba began to sound frantic. He shook his head quickly, stepping back away from her.

“Please, you don’t understand. I need to die. There is no other way to this, please kill me.” she begged. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Shaking his head again, Bubba turned to leave the room. He ignored her weeping so he did not feel guilty. But he did anyways, he did not want her to cry. He felt like he was at fault for her outburst.

She cried just like she did when she realized all of her friends were dead. She sobbed for the girl who died in her, now left with an empty shell of a used, broken body. The boy did not play with his toys nicely, he liked to break them into pieces and glue them back together, only to break them again. Break the brittle porcelain and smile at the mess he made.

The thoughts of suicide never left her head. There was a lot of time to ponder and think about it before she was taken back to her sanctuary she created in her brain.

Johnny knew he broke her, and he viewed it as a success. To him, it was his usual game. Why show mercy for a play thing? He never played nice, he was known for that. Sometimes he wondered if it was even a good idea to have her in the first place, but he was reminded of the goodness of it when he sank inside of her. Nancy often pestered him to kill the girl, but he was not finished with her. She was an unfinished art project that needed a few more touches. Just as Bubba made masks and Nubbins snapped pictures, Johnny was an artist in his own way. He enjoyed defiling women and turning them inside out. The empty eyes of a broken spirit stroked his ego and made his body tingle in excitement. He got off on making individuals miserable, cackling at their pleas and the fresh, hot blood that spilled from the crevices of their corpse.

She felt like a corpse herself. The bunny stopped fighting when trapped in the jaws of the wolf, she accepted her fate. She wished he had killed her like he did her friends. They would be rotting together, whether it was in the bellies of her captors or where they disposed what was left of them. Johnny mocked her when she cried for her friends. He slapped her and told her to “close her damn lips before he glued them together”. The tears continued to fall, but the cries were quieted down in fear of him. He liked to throw his intimidation around and terrorize her when he could. Whether it was waving body parts in her face, forcing her to eat “jerky”, cutting into her body with his knife, or abusing her repeatedly, Johnny took pride in his creation. Sometimes he took pictures of her and stashed them away for his own viewing. She was his pretty girl, his own art piece.

There was a thought that crossed her mind that God did not shine his light upon the hellish beast that the Sawyers called “home”. Within it, it felt void of any saving, and with the amount of times she cried for the Lord, he did not answer back. The only Lord that answered her calls was his creation of man who laughed in her face.

“Ya’ think God is going to save ya’?” he giggled as he waved the knife in her face. “God doesn’t do any savin’ around here, the only God ya’ worship is me. There ain’t no God that will touch this place, for the Devil already marked it as his sanctuary.”

Debating on her thoughts, she stared at the ceiling unblinking as he slept peacefully next to her. Her lower half throbbed from his perverted touch and she could not sleep. Her brain was running a thousand miles per hour, wishing and hoping for a new beginning. Maybe she could grant herself that, she deserved it after all she put up with him. Her skin burned when he fondled her, like a demon would when a crucifix was placed upon their skin. The Devil snored quietly next to her like a predator would with his prey confined between its jowls. She wondered if he awakened during his slumber to watch her.

Maybe God did watch upon this Hell. Johnny released her from her restraints, saying she had been doing very good lately and would be granted just a small fraction of freedom. She was grateful, but her brain worked at the many ways she could leave. She felt guilty for feeling this way because some part of her loved him. When he was gentle for only mere moments, he kissed her softly, he smiled at her with amusement, he cuddled her close to him and left small kisses along her throat. Those times he did that, she wanted to stay. She wanted it to be like that forever. But just as quick as he could kill, he was just as quick at switching his moods. When he laid kisses upon her throat, he bit down to draw blood and shock her. When he kissed her, he chewed at her lip roughly and sucked on her blood. When he smiled at her, his smile morphed into an evil, dark smile. When he cuddled her, he dug his fingernails into her soft body and left claw marks. It reminded her that he was not someone to love, but someone to be terrified of.

It was a chilly November evening. They sat at the table together to eat dinner with the rest of the family. They studied her as she chewed slowly to prevent herself from getting sick. They were not used to her sitting at the table with them to eat after Johnny had kept her away from them for so long. However, he made it clear to not talk to you. You were only his, they did not need to converse with you. Sissy annoyed Johnny about it, getting under his skin on purpose and smiling at his clenched fists and the sharp clatter of his utensils. Bubba stole small glances at you but avoided your gaze. It was better he did not look, he did not want to anger the beast. Nubbins and Chop Top giggled at the table as they watched your frightened form shake as Johnny became more angry. He was like a bomb ready to explode as the vein in his forehead throbbed and his jaw clenched.

Dinner was a long ordeal, and it was very tense with the way the family continued to irritate the Slaughter boy. She was fearful. She knew that once the door to his room closed, he would devour her. And she was scared for the first time in a while. Clenching her wrist, he dragged her from her chair and upstairs, making her stumble along the steps as he hurriedly pulled her with him. His grip was tight, and it activated the rope burns that had melted into her skin like wax.

Throwing her into the room, he slammed the door shut. His breathing was uneven as his eyes glistened with animosity.

“All of this is your fuckin’ fault.” he spat as he wrenched a hand into her scalp. “If ya’ hadn’t come around here in the first place, I wouldn’t have ta’ hear my family’s yappin’.

She stayed silent. It was best to not argue back. He never took it too lightly.

“They want me to kill ya’. They wonder all the time why I haven’t killed ya’. I’m not so sure myself either.” Johnny bore into her soul. “There ain’t no other purpose to ya’ besides fuckin’ the stupidity out of ya’ and usin’ ya.”

Glistening with tears, her eyes did not let them fall. She knew this already. She knew he did not love her. He never meant anything he said. Yet, it hurt her, it deeply punctured her heart. She felt herself losing the ability to breathe as her heart cracked, her mind replaying his words over and over.

“If I had to do it all over again, I would have kept your other friend instead of ya. Or I would have killed ya’.” He watched to see her reaction to his words, but she did not want to give him the satisfaction. He enjoyed hurting her. But she could not hold back.

“I hate you.” she cried out. “I fucking hate you.”

He laughed. “Not as much as I fucking hate ya.” He pushed her onto the ground. “Did ya’ really think I loved ya’? Seriously, what ever gave ya’ that idea?”

“I don’t know, Johnny, maybe all the times you told me I was your ‘pretty girl’ or the times you actually treated me like a normal human being!” she screamed, her tears flowing down her face as he watched her breakdown. “You are fucked in the head. You are insane!”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, bitch.” he replied as he began to take his belt off. “I don’t like this attitude ya’ suddenly developed.”

Rage. Rage filled her entire body to the brim and radiated off of her. She had so much pent up anger and she did not care what he did to her. She wanted him to be pissed, to be distraught just like her.

“Fuck you, you fucking dick!”

Johnny snapped his belt and frowned. “Bad decision, Y/N.”

She never received corporal punishment as a child, for she was a good girl. Even if she did cause issues, her parents did not believe in hitting their child. So she never experienced it before, until now. The belt cut into her skin as he slammed it onto her body repeatedly. Sometimes it got her face, her arms, her legs, her stomach, wherever he could hit. She tried to back up but she hit the wall, and he stepped closer to her. She wailed in pain and anger, like a pissed off cat in heat.

Kicking her feet out, she struck his shin. Hissing in pain, he threw the belt to the side. “Oh ya’ gonna’ get it now, ya’ fuckin’ bitch.”

“Fuck you.” she said sternly, not backing down. “Fuck you and your whole family.”

She could barely remember his fist colliding with her face. She thrashed her body around, kicking her limbs wildly as she did so. She hoped it would hurt him just as her nose ached from his punch. Warm blood poured and smeared across her face as he landed another punch on her face. Another one went into her ribs, knocking the wind out of her. She wheezed and she felt her lungs squeeze every last bit of air out. He was not done, but she was tired of it. He had done this long enough.

Charging up her elbow, she slammed it into his crotch. Johnny chomped down on his lower lip, immediately tasting iron in his mouth as he felt himself go dizzy. His face felt hot and the nausea tensed his stomach up. Getting into his knees, he tried to fight the nausea away. His vision was blurry as he could see her get up quickly from the floor and dash to the door. He reached out to grab her but failed, falling onto his face. His attempts of crawling were futile as he had to wait out his pain. He was pissed, but he could not act out due to the fact he could not walk currently. That bitch was going to pay.

The bunny hopped down the stairs while holding her ribs, her wide eyes searching for an exit point. She knew she could not escape with the condition she was in, but she knew that she could leave her vessel behind. The rest of the family were nowhere to be seen so far.

Sprinting out the back door the best she could, she made her way to one of the sheds they had. If Johnny could tie her up, then she knew they had what she was looking for. She was terrified of Johnny finding her. However, this life was not for her anymore. It had been consumed by the wolf and she could not take it anymore. He was so selfish. So vain.

Johnny stumbled to his feet, his sensitive area throbbing in pain and the nausea still present in his stomach. Walking down the stairs, he clenched his jaw tightly. He was going to sniff out his prey again and maybe this time end it once and for all. She had given him enough grief and caused too much turmoil in his life since she decided to come along. He noticed the back door was cracked and the demented smile that came upon his face hurt.

With very little moon light shining upon the shed, she had some difficulty finding what she needed. However, her hands wrapped around the coarse thickness of it. Rope. She chuckled sadly. This is what it had come down to. Her only exit out of this place that gave her full control of her body once again. She did not know what that felt like anymore.

She peeked her head out the door to see if Johnny had come outside, but she did not see any sign of him. Now, she only had to climb up a tree and tie the knot. Quietly walking, she crouched and carved her pathway to the one of the bigger trees that could support her decision without stopping her from doing so. Sometimes, branches were weak. Here and there, she heard rustling in the bushes which made her heart race and her hair stand on end, but she continued to make her way to the tree. Then, she finally heard him.

“Hey there!” he cackled from the back door, eyes glistening with rage. “Where do ya’ think you’re goin’?”

She took off running towards the tree, hoping and praying that she could make it in time to climb before he could. He was still a little a ways from her and it would take him a bit longer to get to her since she had hurt him. But she knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Get back here!” Johnny yelled as he started stomping towards her.

With some difficulty, she crawled up the tree like a tarantula escaping the sight of a human being. Her lungs ached, the cuts stung, her nose was sticky with blood, and she was exhausted. She glanced back and saw that Johnny was still making his way to her. She still had a bit of time. She settled in the highest trees branch that even Johnny would not be able to cut her down from the ground.

She moved her hands as fast as she could, tying the knots and securing it tightly. This would not fail her. She was going to get out of here. Not alive, but she would be reunited with her friends once again. Frolicking in a field of sun flowers together and laughing at random nonsense. Her eyes watered with tears as she began to laugh manically. Balancing on the tree branch, she began to walk to the edge of it to tie the end of it to the thick branch.

Johnny could not tell what she was holding in her hands, but he was extremely frustrated that he could not move any faster because of how much pain he was in. He tried running, but it hurt badly. The bitch really got to him, got the upper hand on him. He neared the tree but still had difficulty making out what she was holding or going to do.

Her success was nearing within the minutes. She looked down and saw Johnny was getting much closer now, so she had to act fast. Sliding her neck through the knot, she studied the ground as the tree branch creaked from the weight. Tears fell as she smiled. She would be free. She would be with her friends again. She would be at peace. No more Johnny. No more cannibalism. No more crazy families or bloodbaths. No more hurt. No more pain. She was looking forward to it. Lifting one foot and hanging it off the edge, she smiled once more before plunging down.

Johnny’s heart stopped. His breathing hitched as he heard that familiar cracking sound. The sound of a broken ligament. His eyes settled upon her hanging body, unmoving. He could not move right away. His body did not let him.

Until he let out a scream of agony, one that a person would hear from a mountain lion in the woods. It echoed back to him, the night sky glittered with stars taunting him. She was too far up for him to reach her from where he was at, so he hurriedly climbed up the tree. He forgot the pain in his crotch, what hurt more was the pain in his heart. One that he buried a long time ago.

He shimmied along the branch and slipped out his knife, sawing away at the rope. He felt like he was going to faint. Her body toppled to the ground with a sickening thud, but Johnny knew. He knew she was not there anymore. She was just a corpse now. But he wanted to believe that she was still there. Practically jumping off the tree, he raced to her body and fell to his knees, running his hands over her body to feel her heart beat. A sign of life. Yet there was nothing, nothing reflected back to him.

“Why…” he whispered. “Why did ya’ abandon me like this?”

Picking up her body carefully, he cradled her close to him. Something he never did when she was alive. Her head was moved to an unnatural position as the rope had snapped parts of her vertebrae and neck.

Sissy had heard his cry of pain, but she was not ready to be faced with her family member holding their “lover’s” body. Staring at the girl’s corpse, she opened her mouth to say something but Johnny pushed past her. He was shaking, whether it was from rage, sadness, or anguish, Sissy was not sure. But she was sure that the woman he held was not alive anymore. The rope burned itself into her neck and colored it blue and black. The girl’s face was pale, eyes hazed over with no signs of life.

“She… she abandoned me.” Johnny said as he laid her body on the table. “She abandoned me.”

Sissy stood in the door way when Nancy came into the dining room. Her eyes laid upon the body and she sighed. “I told ya’ she was a bad idea.”

Johnny’s eyes were glossy. “Mama… why did she abandon me? She left me…”

“Well sweet pea, her and ya’ other mother have somethin’ in common.” she replied flatly. “There ain’t no sense in worrying about it. She was just a girl. Nothin’ special about her.”

“She was my girl.”

“Yes, and so were about fifty other ones too.”

He stayed silent. His brain ran wildly. Why did she leave him like this? His biological mother left him too, just like Nancy said. Left him near a garbage bin to rot away. But Nancy, savior Nancy, saved the young boy.

Now, who would save him from this? He did not want another woman right now, he wanted the one he had adjusted to. He wanted her. But she was laying upon the dining room table with pallid, bruised skin and a broken spine. He wanted to cry but he did not allow himself to. Not here, not now.

“It’s best to forget her, boy. She was nothin’ but trouble. It was bound to happen, Johnny. Ya’ cant trust anyone outside of family. Otherwise, ya’ will be abandoned over and over.” Nancy said as a final warning to her son. “It’s not your fault, ya’ can’t control who leaves ya’.”

Her words stabbed into his heart. Johnny knew he was easy to abandon. His mother did it first, and now she did it. It made him feel helpless, like he had no control of his life.

Nancy left the room and Sissy continued to watch as Johnny picked the stiff body up and began to slowly tread up the stairs, his footsteps sounding haunting. She felt herself hurting as well. She was not sure why, but she did.

Treating her with more gentleness than he did when she was alive, he carefully settled her onto the mattress. The mattress she laid on waiting for him to come back from his chores. The mattress she slept with him on. Now, she was nothing but a memory.

“Why did ya’ abandon me?” he choked out, feeling like his younger self wondering why his biological mother left him to die. “What made ya’ think you could do that?”

No response.

“You left me…”

Silence.

Revolting silence.

“Why did you do this to me?”

#johnny sawyer #johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #slashers #slasher community #texas chainsaw game #texas chainsaw massacre #horror

98 notes · View notes

2braincellslz · 1 year

Note

I'M SO SORRY BUT I HAVE ONE MORE

billy hargrove x FEM!reader (Neil is rotting in prison btw, I can't stand him and hope he has fun in hell)

Billy drives Max to the skatepark every Wednesday afternoon

He waits in the parking lot watching her skate, he notices a girl that max sometimes talks to

He noticed max likes the girl and she is his age..

Billy starts taking max to the skatepark more and more, and letting her stay until the girl leaves

Billy falls for the girl and eventually gets the courage to ask her out

They fall in love and max and billy fight over her

"She was mine first,"

"Back off shitbird, she like me more,"

This idea wouldn't leave my brain, sorry

ME FIRST!

Billy hargrove x Fem!reader

Desc: billy and max fight over YN. That's about it.

Warning: fighting

Notes: it's a little short. Sorry-

The music in the car was blaring. When the Hargrove siblings pulled in to the park, the current song was Queen but it was shut down rather quickly.

"Alright, max." Billy said, sitting back in his seat. "Two hours tops. Go."

Max rolled her eyes and got out of the car, dropping her skate board to the ground and rolling off.

Billy turned the other way, watching as Max rode down the bowl. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it up, taking a few quick drags.

He could drive off and go flirt with girls at the mall, not like Neil was around to stop him, but it was starting to get redundant. He almost justified flirting with Steve in his little ice cream shop just to get some kind of new reaction. But, he had a reputation.

So he just sat there, listing to his music and humming along to whatever Freddie Mercury was singing about.

Time past. Billy as dozed off once or twice. He mess around with some of the cute girls (and boys) that walked by. He would check to male sure Max wasnt dead but honestly, it wasnt the most important thing.

Once when Billy looked up, he saw Max with this... absolutely stunning lady.

She had to be younger then Billy but older then Max.

Her (h/l) hair perfectly framed her face. Her clothes fit her in all the right was. If this was some kind of cartoon, Billy's eyes might be poking out of his head.

Max must have noticed Billy's staring because she was already in the car, sitting next to him.

"Are you ok? Its rude to stare."

Billy quickly looked over, semi shocked that he didnt see Max get in.

"What? Mind your business." Billy said, running back to look out the window. To his disappointment, she was gone.

"How old is your friend?" Billy fully turned on the car and shut off the music.

"16, two years older then me. Why?"

"Mind your business, Max." Billy repeated himself, pulling out of the parking lot while trying not to hit the dumb kids that thought it was ok to cross the road without looking.

"Oh, you like her?" Max nearly yelled.

"What dose it matter to you?"

"You arnt her type."

"Oh really? What's her type, then?"

"Me"

"Spoiled brats? You dont have a chance in hell with her."

The whole ride home continued on like that. The two siblings firing insults back and forth.

Week after week that same thing would happen. If Billy was lucky, Y/N would walk with Max to the car. On those days, Y/N and Billy would playfully flirt back and forth while Max stared daggers in to the back of Billy's head.

But today was the day. Billy had gained enough confidence to ask out the girl he had been pining for over the past weeks.

Max knew something was up when Billy didnt give her the normal 'only two hours' speech and instead got out of the car with Max.

"What are you doing?" Max asked, holding her board under her arm.

"None of your business." Billy huffed, looking over Max for a particularly girl.

"Max-ie." Yn turned the corner around the car. "Oh, Billy. Hi. I've never seen you put of your car."

"Oh, well today is a very special day." Billy smiled, leaning against his car.

"Oh, really? Whys that?" Max asked, voice laced with venom. Almost like a warning, but what was she going to do?

"Today is that day I'm going to ask YN out."

Billy glanced away from Max over to YN, who was giggling and covering her face.

"Oh really?" Yn asked. "Where were you planning on taking her?"

"A nice dinner somewhere? Maybe bring to to the pool after closing. Whatever she wants."

"I think she would enjoy a movie or dinner at enzos." Yn hummed, tapping her chin.

"I'll call her later tonight to ask about it."

"Sounds like a plan."

Billy looked back over to where Max once was but she had ran off, probably to pitty herself for having no rizz.

"Well, I wont hold you." Billy smiled back at YN and slipped in to his car.

-----------------------------------------------

After about a two and a half hours, max slid in to the seat next to Billy. She slammed the door with a loud thud.

"Hey, watch it! Dont hurt her." Billy hissed, staring up the car.

"Dont get any bight ideas with YN, Billy! I liked her first."

"Oh come on, she likes me better, shitbird."

"She dose not! She Pittys you!"

And they fought, all the way back home.

#stranger things s3 #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #stranger things billy #billy x reader #billy hargove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy harringrove #billy hargove #billy hargove x fem!reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x female reader

212 notes · View notes

summonhouse · 8 months

Note

did u know !!!!! i am . INTERESTED in your characters and u should Tell me all about them

WAA WAA WAAA (HITS YOU WITH BRICKS )

Heres two collections of characters .

housecats who ive detailed plenty recently. the perfect person/pp, xerox, catch 22, and amaryllis/no signal. they are (sans amaryllis) fiction aware interdimensional creatures. the perfect person is the hand of god (me as a writer) torturing and assisting fictional creatures, xerox serves to clean up forgotten and abandoned stories lest they become overrun by nightmares and void, catch 22 is the nightmares and void, and amaryllis is pps normal child.

pp's a righteous bitch, extremely erratic and constantly experiencing back and forth. to have personality while also being explicitly and only a tool for someone who enjoys hurt/comfort is existentially hellish; it cannot allow for any personal connection because it will inevitably be torn apart for some writer sanctioned angst. its also only able to do what writers are capable of and so could easily be written stripped of its powers and lives knowing it has to serve or be trashed (which it had been for a year until recently and is still recovering). xerox is nice and sweet, despite regularly killing people and fighting monsters and the other housecats being very mean to him. he wishes everyone had the clarity to enjoy their time on screen and submit gracefully when the curtains close as an inevitability. catch 22 is just miserable and wants to see everything end (as it cannot) so seeks to permanently ruin any story it could. it personally despises pp for reasons i actually cannot remember. something about stealing its partner before it turned into a creepy void centaur? amaryllis is pretty normal, half mortal and ignorant to the larger problems around it really. in canon verse its been kidnapped by catch 22 in the hopes of hurting pp or inspiring it to try and rescue it but pp actually doesnt really care so amaryllis has been left abandoned to rot away in the void. i like to think about what i call "normalverse" aus where that didnt happen and it grows up relatively normal. i think it has a very .. heady personality

heres characters for fibs story which im in the process of rewriting. i originally made it in 2019 and dropped it for 2-3 years and am only now picking it back up so theres a lot of reworking i need to do and explanation is mostly going to be recollection. its about a dog named fib (first guy), he used to be prince lye of the laurel kingdom before labyrinth (second guy), a malicious magical entity, teamed up with another canine to usurp his parents and tossed fib in a magical prison for a decade or so, where fib slowly goes mad. the usurper has since died and so fib has been released, but the magic of his binding has leaked into him and he is now cursed so that he cannot tell the truth, instead automatically saying lies which then warp reality into whatever he had stated. still he is the only one who can take title of king and now struggles to maintain control of his kingdom. he now goes on an adventure to try and track down labyrinth to reverse his curse, learning lessons along the way about self reflection, different nonverbal ways of communication, boundaries and expectations in relationships he has with others, and generally coping with immense trauma. cricket (third guy) hunts fib down during his journey; when fib was a normal boy, so was cricket, and they were young best friends before lye was imprisoned. with no clarity on the situation as someone new takes over the throne, cricket assumes that lye had simply ran away, abandoning the kingdom for worse as the new king subjected the kingdom to needless war, drafting the young cricket who dies on the battle field and resurrects through his rage, digging himself out of his mass grave and now seeking to kill fib. lie (fourth guy) is like totally nothing i just wanted to put him up there LOL hes some sort of spooky doll magical creature who seeks to manipulate fib by feigning kinship, for profit i guess

i love. to think and talk

#ask

10 notes · View notes

dothwrites · 11 months

Text

'bad boys' is such a precious episode to me. dylan everett is THEE young dean.

dean's insistence that john did nothing wrong... even when it becomes CLEAR that he knows that he did something wrong... john allowing dean to rot in the boy's home because he got caught stealing... if you ever tell me that john winchester was just doing the best he could, i am going to bite your head off

sam is sooooooooooo snotty when it comes to ex-cons. my god. sam finds out that anyone has ever been to prison and his opinion of them immediately plummets. again, it's an interesting way to view 'liberal' sam

dean's innate kindness to and concern for children is also something that is so precious to me.

dean is doing good in school! he thrives when he is given positive reinforcement and a stable environment! he's not stupid and he's not a delinquent, he is SMART and he just wants a home!

robin not recognizing dean is also something so very painful to me. she was such a big part of dean's life, and he's obviously kept some pretty fond memories of her and that time in his life. it was a core memory experience for dean, but for robin, he was just... some guy in her past. she doesn't think about it, and when he comes in, she has to be reminded of who he is. and when she remembers, she doesn't really care. (i know that she was giving him a little cold shoulder in the diner, but the point still stands) it's excruciating for dean and i just want to hug him.

dean's thing about being a mechanic: the cars leave and he's not responsible for them anymore. don't read too much into that, but that screams of a kid who's tired of being responsible for his brother and his family. he's screaming under the pressure and he just wants to be a KID

"sometimes you have to do what's best for you even if it's going to hurt the ones you love" ... if only dean learned how to take his own advice. dean's whole life has been a series of doing everything for the people he loves instead of for himself. including his decision to leave sonny's. he leaves for sam! despite wanting to get away from responsibility, he goes back because his family has its hooks too far into him. there's no escaping. dean never managed it, and even sam got roped back in.

#doth watches spn

18 notes · View notes

bobbybutterfly · 7 months

Text

Awesome. The original post got lost in the aether.

Now I got to rewrite it while on 8% and about to fall asleep. I guess I could post it tomorrow but I want this picture out of sight! I spent on it 12 hours already! Give me a break! By the way the fact that it took that long was on me. Newbie tip. If you are planning to make a piece in colour, PLEASE colour your pattern first before copying it. It will save you SOOOO much time.

So. What are we looking at? This is supposed to be Commander Gosemdouchi’s house. Oh boy. Do I feel like I have to find some Korean person I can bombard with questions about traditional Korean houses. Because when you’re looking up pictures of them on Pinterest they always get shuffled with Japanese and Chinese houses. I should do some research. I was always a more Japan girlie. I’ve even been learning the language for 2 years now. Yeah. Having to learn kanji got me regretting that I spent my days watching Dragon Ball Z instead of I don’t know… BTS interviews?

I guess I could write a bit about my fan fiction idea. It’s set after the end of the first season when the finally defeat the weasels, I think. I’m on episode 19 so no spoilers. There’s a split in the timelines. And Commander Gosemdouchi becomes basically Kim Ill Sung.

See? I said I would get around to posting those sketches some day.

It’s like a joke between me and dad that we think Commander Gosemdouchi’s sus. By the way Roxy, don’t worry. We stan Scout Gosemdouchi. But that commander! I don’t plan to write this fanfic anytime soon. I have some different projects in mind for Squirrel and Hedgehog. Be sure to follow me! Because trust me there’s nothing worse then then that crushing sense of disappointment when the project you were excited for gets abandoned.

Shit. I shouldn’t say that. I should be positive.

Back to that fanfic idea. So Commander over here after the war, assassinates or imprisons all the important animals from the Flower Hill army and names himself the supreme leader. It’s kind of based off of my country, Slovakia’s, history after the Second World War. Except no one called named themselves the supreme leader. By the way. On the note of history. Some one said, too sleepy to see who it was, I think it was vikfiv21, that if the North Koreans wanted me to work for them, they would just come and fetch me.

Well. Back during communism several of my family members were political prisoners. Including my grandfather. So if I was in North Korea I would still be rotting in a work camp. Oh shit.

Anyways. Back once again to the fanfic idea because I need to go to bed. I really like the idea of Geumseagi finding out that the nation he’s fighting for is a made up idea. As my dad put it, very 70’s Captain America. Just think of the angst! You find out that all the blood, sweat and tears you poured out weren’t for your fellow comrades but for a cruel tyrant that thanks you with a spit in the face?

Bobby out!

#my art #procreate #digital art #fanart #squirrel and hedgehog #interiors #background art #fanfiction ideas #sketch #furry art

7 notes · View notes

worldhell · 2 months

Text

⋆ ┊ . 𝐼𝒻 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐿𝑜𝓈𝑒, 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒟𝒾𝑒 ◞ ˚ @naitfall ⤸ Could a part of him be searching for answers — the reason their paths had once crossed, for the change the man had brought into his life? Could a part of him feel indebted to him — truth was, Levi wouldn't be strolling the empty prison hallways, if it wasn't for Kenny. A murderer who'd take the lives of others with such ease, yet he had saved Levi's life many years ago. The same duality of nature they shared, a mix of black and white, of characteristics that weren't meant to co-exist within the same person, but clash. The same nature, impossible for nearly everyone to understand. Or was his visit, the desperation of an abandoned child, searching for its lost guardian? Back pressed against the wall, right across his cell he'd stand, watching him behind bars. ❝ Now that Historia has become Queen, I don't see you getting out of here any time soon. ❞ He could get him out with just a word. But Levi was never the type to abuse power. If Kenny wanted to escape after all, he already would have. ❝ At least you won't get executed. Unless you'd rather bite the dust instead of spending your last days in this shithole. ❞ He could simply be looking for an honest conversation, from the man who had taught him honesty, even if made of secrets and lies.

❝ Then, ain't here to kill me yourself, huh? You just like comin' down here or what? The way I'm seein' it, we both might as well be stuck in this cell. ❞ All his men were dead. The very dream he'd killed for time and time again, well, that too was just as dead. What was it all for in the end? Kenny knew the answer clearly. Power. Absolute godly power. Hell. He'd do it all again too, so long as it got him that much closer to his dream. That's all there was in this world. The things men would kill for, would devote their lives too; so damn rotten, and so damn human, to crave and get drunk on that sensation.

He scoffs, but the man's bravado is weakened, the reality of his situation a cruel reminder; the prison cell he's kept in, locked away in the darkness, with just himself. Trapped. ❝ You really like to keep runnin' that mouth of yours, don't you boy? Don't be stupid. Rotting away like this, hell, I might as well be dead already. It ain't living. To simply be breathing ain't to be alive. ❞

Torture. What a shitty way to go; what a damn fitting fate for a pile of trash like him. Weren't that the truth ... ay, Uri? No point in escaping, such little fight left in him. Damn, he'd gotten old, or what? Nah. It was simple, the dream he'd been chasing, well, it was all a lie. Led like a damn mutt. He could never stand where Uri stood. It really felt like it for a time, that he was close to seeing the world through eyes that weren't his own, to see something amazing - something beautiful. What Uri saw. A hopeless dream.

❝ Won't you put in a good word with our lil' queen? I'll even apologise for shovin' a knife down her daddy's throat. ❞ Dramatic teasing, words all for show. Truth was, he's tired. Even if he got out of here, escaped, there was nothing left for him to give this world. It would have been better to die back there, even if the thought of facing death was terrifying.

❝ Places like this ain't our style. So what is it Levi, wan'ta reminisce about ol' times, or you wanna keep talking shit. Heh, ain't like I mind all that much either way. ❞

#༊*·˚ KENNY. ACKERMAN ◞ ― interaction *ೃ༄#༊*·˚ KENNY. ACKERMAN ◞ ― answered *ೃ༄#naitfall #( me wondering how kenny would be like if he survived- OH OKAY IT'S LIKE THIS )#( god he's a sad man )#( talking to levi while he's in a cell is the thing keeping him sane )#( going feral ove r this setting Y ESSS )

3 notes · View notes

anonymous-dentist · 2 years

Text

Part two of a series of oneshots set in @discduo ‘s mall au! I heavily recommend reading part one first. (Linked here)

Okay so, first off, Quackity is not moping. He is not. That would be ridiculous, and also stupid, to assume. Quackity does not mope. He sure can sulk, but he doesn’t mope, and he definitely doesn’t mope over some dumbfuck from the Disney Store.

“You’re an idiot,” George astutely says, hitting the nail right on the head for once in his miserable life.

George is not at work. George is, in fact, skipping work to hang out with Quackity. That means that he’s at the Spencers leaning against the wall of shelves sipping on some Starbucks abomination with a metal straw while Quackity works. He’s wearing his sunglasses today, the really nice pair that his sugar daddy, Dream’s weirdo cousin, got for him for their five-month anniversary the other month. (George forgot the anniversary entirely until Sapnap reminded him, because Sapnap is just such a nice person. He’s just so wonderful.)

Quackity dutifully ignores him, instead focusing on doing his goddamn job. Unlike half of the people in this mall, he actually works. He does his job, and he sometimes even likes it. It’s easy to ignore your problems when you can just rot your brain by listening to shitty metal music and stock t-shirts plastered with Joe Biden’s face.

George slurps at his coffee as annoyingly as humanly possible. “He won’t stop talking about you, you know.”

“Who, Dream?” Quackity asks, only halfway caring. He sure hopes it isn’t Dream; every time Dream wants to talk to him, the cops end up getting called.

“No, Sapnap. He thinks you’re mad at him.”

“Why would I be mad at Sapnap for following his dick to work at the Disney Store instead of here like we agreed upon and leaving me behind just because some- some- some guy with nice hair pitied him?” Quackity lightly asks. His chest hurts.

He grips the shirt in his hands so hard that it wrinkles. Fuck you, Joe Biden, stupid white piece of shit. Hey, Joe Biden, what’s your policy on heartbreak and megacorporations? You gonna solve this crisis?

“So you are mad at him,” George surmises.

“No. I’m not. Why would I be mad at him? I’m glad that he got a new job, really. It’s a lot quieter without him showing up and pissing me off.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Get new insults, dude. Your shitty old man brain is melting.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” George groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “Just listen to me, God. He’s moping, Quackity, you have to fix him.”

“God, who cares?” Quackity snaps, maybe harsher than intended. Maybe. “I sure fucking don’t. He’s your friend, not mine. You…” He waggles his hand in George’s general direction. “You fix him. I don’t care.”

Because maybe Sapnap hasn’t come by for lunch since getting hired at that fucking Disney Store three months ago. Maybe Quackity hasn’t even seen him in three months. It’s almost like that Karl guy upstairs is keeping him captive. Maybe Sapnap has actually been locked inside of the fucking- the puppet theater, or whatever the fuck. He looks enough like a Muppet. So does Karl Jacobs. They’re practically meant for each other. World’s best assistant manager and world’s best Sapnap, prisoners and wardens of The Mouse.

They deserve each other. Disney is all about happiness and sunshine and whatever. How could Quackity compare with his weird emo store and his lackluster insurance benefits?

“Riiiiight,” George drawls. He swishes his coffee around judgmentally. “Well, you’re going to fix it. I don’t know what you did-”

“What I did?” Quackity asks. “I’m not the one that ghosted his lunch buddy out of fucking nowhere just because some pretty boy waggled a job interview at me. I’ve been stuck eating lunch with Wilbur. Wilbur.”

Wilbur isn’t the worst to eat lunch with, mostly because he and Quackity can both bond over annoying Tubbo at work, but he’s still Wilbur. Either he’s waxing poetic about his marine biologist girlfriend, or he’s waxing poetic about his dad, or he’s talking about how he wants to punt Dream into the sun (he and Quackity can both agree on that last part.)

But. But he’s no Sapnap. You don’t miss what you didn’t realize you had until it’s gone, Quackity supposes. All he can do is move on and try and find someone else to buy him milkshakes. Maybe they’ll actually get the flavors right.

“Whatever,” George sighs. “When’s your break? I heard from Puffy that the Panda Express is giving out free samples around noon to the first people in line. I bet we could steal the whole lot before the public even gets to them.”

Quackity checks his watch. 11:50.

“Now,” he decides. Fuck it, he’s the manager, he can say when his own breaks are. Who’s gonna stop him, Schlatt? Fucker’s dead! “Foolish! You’re in charge!”

He hears a vague “Yeah, ‘kay!” from The Back, but he doesn’t really register it. He’s too busy shoving the rest of the Biden shirts onto the shelves so he can get the fuck out of there and get some fresh air. You can only be in a Spencer’s for so long without reverting back to your emo phase.

Tubbo’s working at the Burger King today. He sees Quackity and George and waves, looking utterly dead inside in the best way possible.

Quackity waves back much more cheerfully. He even blows a kiss, which makes Tubbo’s entire body shudder in repulsion. One of the kids in line to order notices and laughs, making Tubbo shudder again, this time in embarrassment.

Quackity makes a mental note of which child to drop a free sample on. Not that he would willingly drop a plastic cup full of steaming-lukewarm rice onto a child, because that would be ridiculous. He would never. George would, though, and he would even kick a kid if it looked at him the wrong way.

There’s something in the air, Quackity thinks as he and George weave their ways through the crowd and to the Panda Express. It’s either salmonella, or it’s…

“George!”

Quackity’s face falls. It’s either salmonella, or it’s regret. It’s always one of the two with him. Half of the dinners Schlatt made him were uncooked, some kind of health food trend that he was trying because he saw it online. The other half were burned beyond all recognition, a pretty good metaphor for how their relationship was going at the time.

George stops and sends Quackity a smug little side eye before turning around and waving over a cheerful-looking Sapnap.

Sapnap looks… how to put it? He looks happy. His hair is pulled back and it’s shiny, his nails are painted, and his dimples are on full display. Quackity should stop looking at his face and should try and get the fuck away before he does something he might regret, like try and talk to him.

Sapnap alone is bad enough, but he’s accompanied by the living embodiment of sunshine and fucking lollipops. They’re standing awfully close together. Suspiciously close, even. Bad vibes.

Sapnap comes over. Quackity backs up and slips back into the crowd, more than happy for his relatively small size for the first time in his life.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he hears Sapnap ask, like the idiot he is. Everybody knows that George doesn’t actually do his job. Why would he when he’s dating the guy that basically owns the mall?

By the time that Quackity makes it to the Panda Express, he’s left George, Sapnap, and Sapnap’s annoying boss behind.

Also by the time that Quackity makes it to the Panda Express, Tubbo has somehow managed to escape the Burger King and is standing by a small table wearing the Panda Express uniform holding a tray covered in samples. At least George wasn’t lying about the samples.

Quackity takes one with a fond eye roll.

“What’s this supposed to be?” he asks.

He doesn’t even bother with getting a fork as he picks the rice up with his fingers and shoves it into his mouth. It’s perfectly alright. Not bad, but not good, either. That’s mall food, for you.

Tubbo shrugs. “Dunno. I just work here, man, d’you think I actually know what we serve?”

“I thought you were working at the Subway today.”

“Nah, Susan called out sick earlier at the Burger King, right, and I stepped up to take her place because I’m an upstanding gentleman.”

Quackity snorts. Tubbo, ever-professional, tips the tray so that a couple of samples fall off and onto Quackity’s boots. He doesn’t bat an eye as Quackity swears and skitters backwards with all the grace of a limping spider.

“But then,” Tubbo continues, mindlessly adjusting the samples still on the tray. “Right, see, but then Terrance over here called out-”

“Not Terrance,” Quackity gasps.

Tubbo nods solemnly. “Yes, I’m afraid so. So I’m here handing out free samples while Lisa tries to find a replacement.” “So what’s going on at the Burger King?”

“Well, technically I’m still on the clock over there, but I figured they could wait. Anyone who actually wants Burger King is a braver and more patient man than I.”

“True!” Quackity agrees. Despite his better judgment, he takes another sample and shovels that one into his mouth as well. Sue him, he’s hungry. He still isn’t quite used to taking care of his own lunches yet.

“Besides, I figured you would need emotional support.” Tubbo gets up on his toes to look out over the crowd. Quackity turns around and follows his gaze. He can’t quite see over everybody, but he does make eye contact with some old guy throwing away his Auntie Anne’s containers on the other side of the court. “Y’know, it wasn’t supposed to be a free sample day. Technically, that’s against mall policy to avoid stampedes ‘n stuff. George just got his freaky boyfriend to sign off on it, and I figured that was sus as hell.”

“Please don’t say sus again,” Quackity says.

“Sus.”

“You’re grounded,” Quackity says, fully knowing that that threat never works on Tubbo. He turns back around and gives his brother a Look. “But thanks, anyway.”

Tubbo shrugs. “Consider it repayment for dealing with Dream the other week.”

Quackity winces. “Yeah, ‘kay.”

That was fun. Dream, a security guard in training, has this fun habit of using his cousin’s mall as his personal playground. He’s either bothering George or Sapnap at work, or he’s trying to bust Tommy for working underage ‘cause he’s a freak. A couple of weeks ago and bored out of his mind, he had tried getting Quackity to sell Tommy out, and Tubbo had swooped in with some story about a shoplifter at the Lids on the other side of the mall. What a hero.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking-” Tubbo starts, probably about to start on some stupid little endearing little tangent.

And then there’s an interruption from over Quackity’s shoulder, a dreadfully-familiar voice gleefully exclaiming, “Oh, shoot, free samples!”

Quackity lets out a long, drawn-out sigh as Sapnap slides into place next to him (where he belongs) and yoinks a sample cup off of the tray.

Tubbo shoots Quackity a sympathetic look. They may not spend as much time together as they used to, but they still live together most days out of the week. Tubbo has seen more than his fair share of Quackity sulking, not moping, sulking on the couch over being ignored yet again by the man he didn’t even know he liked.

Quackity inches away, fully intending on bolting like an idiot, but then Sapnap, with a mouth full of rice, glances over at him and freezes like a deer in the headlights. Mid-chew, he stands there like a statue staring at Quackity like Quackity is a ghost. Quackity, much to his own embarrassment, probably looks much the same way.

Sapnap swallows and says, “Uh. Hi?”

“Yeah, hi,” Quackity flatly responds. He turns back to Tubbo. “Am I driving you home today?”

“Quackity,” says Sapnap.

Tubbo seems to think on the matter. “I think Ranboo said that he wanted to go out for dinner.”

“Fuck Ranboo,” Quackity scowls. He sighs, “Am I driving the both of you, then?”

“Quackity,” says Sapnap, slightly more insistent.

Tubbo nods eagerly, a bright smile on his stupid little face. “Yes, please! I’ll make him pay gas money.”

Oh, thank God. Ranboo is loaded, much to Tubbo’s indiscrete enjoyment. It makes Quackity wonder why he’s working in a mall if he can afford an entire house at, what, eighteen? But who knows? There are already so many weird people working at this mall, what’s one more?

“Quackity,” says Sapnap.

“I’m going to head back to work,” Quackity says. “Text me when you’re done.”

“Quackity!”

“Fucking- what!?” Quackity snaps, turning his full attention to the annoyed man next to him.

Sapnap’s mouth flaps for a full second before slamming shut. He takes a moment to compose himself, then says, with a small, bashful smile, “Hi.”

God, why is he so endearing? He used to be annoying! Quackity used to be annoyed by him! Why did it take him leaving for Quackity to get attached?

“What,” Quackity says. He doesn’t ask, no, because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

“I just… are you okay?” Sapnap asks. He frowns, genuinely looking concerned, how dare he. “You look kinda rough, dude.”

“I’m fine,” Quackity monotones. “How’s the Disney Store?”

He really doesn’t care. He doesn’t! It’s just making polite conversation, that’s it. He definitely hasn’t missed talking to Sapnap. At all. And he definitely didn’t spend the first two weeks after Sapnap’s ghosting daydreaming of getting a chance to talk to him again.

Dense as ever, Sapnap’s frown flips back around easily. “It’s great! I didn’t think I’d like working with kids this much, but it’s honestly really rewarding, y’know? Like they’re annoying little shits, but they’re sweet.”

“Cool.”

“And I know we were kinda worried about Disney bringing in a whole bunch of Karens and shit around, but it hasn’t been that bad. I actually had some punk girls come in the other day and ask if we had any Stitches.”

“Cool.”

God, Quackity can just about see the gross pink glow surrounding Sapnap. It’s like he’s a different person entirely. Well. It isn’t. He’s the exact same, actually, but it’s the vibes, man, the vibes are off. This isn’t Sapnap. It’s some kind of Sapnap clone. It’d make sense. The real Sapnap wouldn’t abandon Quackity to work in the fucking Disney Store.

“Karl’s nice, too,” Sapnap continues, not even noticing Quackity’s increasing displeasure and annoyance. “He’s… very nice.”

And now Sapnap is blushing. Great. Quackity wants to kick a child, now. (As if sensing this, Tubbo shuffles away.)

“Wonderful,” Quackity sarcastically says. “I’m glad you’re happy, really. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

He tries to duck out of the conversation, planning on heading back to work to sulk in the supply closet until his actual lunch break starts, but he’s stopped by a broad hand weakly grabbing his shoulder. Holding his shoulder, more like, because Sapnap knows not to actually touch him too suddenly.

“Hey, no, where’re you going?” Sapnap asks, almost sounding hurt. The nerve. “I haven’t seen you in months! Let’s get lunch or something, on me.”

Quackity lets out a slow breath. He is calm.

“No,” he calmly says. “I’m good. I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, I saw how empty that try was. But c’mon, dude, I missed you.”

That’s it.

“You missed me?” Quackity laughs. He looks Sapnap in the eyes and repeats, “You missed me? I haven’t seen you in months! What, just ‘cause you’re a Disney guy now means you can’t come and talk to me?”

Oh, and now Sapnap’s frowning again, great. “What?”

“I have been waiting for you to come and see me every goddamn day since you got hired,” Quackity growls. “Every. Day. Where were you?”

Something flashes in Sapnap’s eyes, but Quackity can’t tell what. He doesn't know if he wants to.

“But you’re always gone when I show up,” Sapnap says, like a goddamn liar. Why does he sound so upset? “I know when your lunch breaks are. That’s why I was so surprised to see you here now. Dude, you aren’t there.”

“Yes! I am! I am always there! I have my lunches in the goddamn hallway half the time! But I never see you,” Quackity spits. “Actually, fuck this. Fuck this, actually, goodbye.”

His therapist always tells him to step away from a situation if it’s stressing him out. If he’s paying her 500 bucks a session, she’d better be right.

He easily pulls himself out of Sapnap’s grasp and storms off, not listening as Sapnap calls after him. What was George thinking? Bastard. They’re all bastards, all of them. Fuck having friends, actually, all they do is disappoint you.

Quackity bumps into someone by the Burger King and almost apologizes before realizing who it is.

“Whoah, dude, sorry,” Karl apologizes, looking as apologetic as a real life villain can. Because of course it’s him, because God hates Quackity and wishes him harm.

To avoid causing a scene, all Quackity does is flip him off. His therapist would be very proud of him.

But then Quackity very calmly says, “I’m gonna sneak so many dildos into your store that you get shut down, and there is nothing that you can do to stop me.”

Karl blinks at him, mouth curled into a neat ‘O’ shape. He’s seemingly shocked into silence. Good.

And with that, Quackity continues his escape, and he continues his escape until he’s pushing Foolish away from the register so he can duck beneath it and break open one of the emergency packs of chewing gum. Stress relief.

“That bad, huh?” Foolish asks, lovely, lovely Foolish.

“From this point forward, Sapnap is banned,” Quackity says. “If you see him, get him out. If I have to see him, somebody’s getting fired.”

He sniffs and scrubs at his stinging eyes. His chest hurts so fucking bad, and it’s not from the Panda Express.

“Uuuuh, okay? What about his boss? The weird one?” Foolish asks, not even questioning it. Lovely, lovely Foolish.

“Don’t bother,” Quackity sighs. “He won’t come down here, anyway. He wouldn’t dare.”

It’s painful, Quackity has slowly begun to realize over the past few months, being in love. It’s even more painful when you’re too slow to act on it.

#karlnapity #c!karlnapity #mall au #a.d.'s fics i suppose #a.d.'s fics i suppose.#ah miscommunication my old friend #anyway i wrote this entire thing in the past hour whoops #the mall au just makes me so happy

70 notes · View notes

pacifymebby · 4 months

Note

babe what were the riots in shields in the 90s??

Okay so I'm not actually sure but I'm presuming it's this? One of the worst riots in British history apparently. Started in an estate over the deaths of two lads who were in a car crash when fleeing the police.

The historic context, from what I can tell, is the same as most unrest in UK. Was fuelled by hatred for the police that had been brewing since Thatcher and the miners strikes.

The estate was built as spillover when they overhauled all the slums (they did this in Scotland too and created some of the most miserable places you've ever seen). Mostly what you find with spillover estates is that they're just like a box to put the poor people in out of sight out of mind to kind of keep them contained so you can forget about them? They end up being derelict, poverty stricken, often quite lawless dangerous places to live, people who grow up there end up trapped there by their circumstances, there's quite commonly high suicide rates in these places. Billy Connolly talked about the Glasgow ones in a documentary and described the problems quite well, they build all these tiny houses and move as many people into them as they can, get them out the slums, but they don't build shops or cinemas or cafes, no parks or green spaces, nowhere for anyone to go, nothing for them to do, no jobs for them to work etc, they just leave you there to rot kinda thing.

Then you combine this with the context of 90s north east, the miners strikes and thatchers police/military violence against the working class is still an open wound, anger against the authorities is already high and probably for the people in those estates, getting more tense day by day. Because it's the government and the police that keep you trapped in those places.

I saw this stat from 2021 (but this issue has been a problem for a long time, probably since before thatcher but certainly exacerbated tenfold by her)

(and it gives you context for songs like Dead Boys too)

This is the data for suicide rates across the country, London and the East/South east have the least which is honestly no fucking surprise at all. Generally those are the most affluent areas of the country. There's still jobs and an economy and it's where ALL the money goes.

Once you get to West Midlands and up you're above the average suicide rate for the country too which is not fucking surprising either.

Anyway the reason I added this to useful context about the riots in the 90s is that like, for all that there was a keep quiet don't talk about it culture (I say was because it was worse then) about suicide, it wouldnt mean people weren't angry.

So like when two lads died in a police car chase (which is awful anyway but also the police have a duty/responsibility not to risk loss of life even to suspected criminals obviously) it wouldn't just have been anger about that which set of the chain of events if that makes sense? Like general anger among a disillusioned and downtrodden demographic which is then sparked by one inflammatory incident is usually what causes a riot.

Anyway the riots were really bad, derelict houses, and shops (there was a lot of racially motivated hate crimes too apparently) were burnt down, the high street was left in ruins. The rioting spread quite far too.

"the fallout" from the riots is probably like, intensified tensions with the police in that area, a lot of fear and anger in a community, a fuck tone of people went to prison, governments punish towns for this shit and the Tories would have been making so many cuts to every kind of social service and giving the money to the cops instead, like just generally economic downturn and stuff. When he talks about cranes being static like, Thatcher destroyed most UK based industry, there were no jobs anywhere. But also right and this is something I think people forget to consider, the fallout post these strikes and riots was a sense of crushing hopelessness because we didn't win. The police and the government won and crushed the communities who had rebelled. Ultimately the fallout is an overwhelming sense of loss, grief, anger and the knowledge that there's no point fighting it cause when you fight the government come down harder, threaten your families.

The whole of the estate ended up being either rebuilt or refurbished and theres a new community center too now, so he could also remember seeing stuff being rebuilt, but I don't get the impression that's what he's talking about somehow.

Theres a TV show called boys from the blackstuff set in Liverpool (I think) that's kind of about this, how there was no industry and everyone was on the dole which wasn't enough to feed a family on, so people would try to work sneak jobs on the side (which lead to so much abuse of workers, kids in unsafe environments, deaths) because if you aren't even like 10p your dole would get stopped. Again all of it leads to suicides and violence. You can watch it on ITV player I think and if this stuff is something you're interested in beyond a Sam Fender lyric you should watch it, it's really emotive and like makes you angry but it really shows you how evil the Conservatives are and how their evil really remains everywhere. (and it explains so much about the north South divide and why there are kids being raised right now up north who will not forgive and forget for the sake of making friends with a southerner when they go to uni)

#sorry for ranting at you but i nerd out about this kind of stuff so hard #politics

2 notes · View notes

youllallriseintheink · 1 year

Text

The Infiltrator, prologue

N sat across from the prison cell, hands folded in his lap as he stared at an equally bored man behind bars. It was the man he’d once considered a father. Three minutes, and his monthly visit would be over.

Just as it was beginning to as though it would be another meeting spent in silence, Ghetsis spoke up. “Why do you bother with this?” he asked. “I would rather rot in this cell than take your offer.”

“I could protect you,” N offered.

Ghetsis scoffed. “Do you plan on staying by my side at all times? Checking my food for poison? No. You’d have me attended day and night by someone who loves you and despises me. You are their king and I was your torturer. You don’t know enough about the world to protect anyone, boy. So I ask you again: why the meetings? There will never be trust between us. This is a waste of our time.”

N sighed. “It… it just wouldn’t feel right not giving you a chance to have a life. You’re a monster. You stunted me. You tried to hurt everyone in the region. I understand all of that, but... when I was a child and didn’t know what I was missing, you were the person who played with me, and took me to the woods, and taught me pretty much all I knew. It’s hard to just let that go. I want to believe there’s something decent in you, or that there could be. You’re right that I can’t trust you, and I don’t plan on giving you money or freedom, but…”

Ghetsis rolled his eyes at the same offer he’d heard every month for a year now.

“…You could live as my guest instead of my prisoner. I don’t understand why you won’t take that.”

“I just told you why,” Ghetsis replied.

The two sat in silence until the clock read that half an hour had passed.

N got up. “Goodbye, Ghetsis. I’ll see you next month.”

With narrow stone walls and dim lighting, the dungeon of N’s castle resembled a six-cell medieval prison. Unova’s law enforcement would surely give Ghetsis a better quality of life, but N knew that after all his crimes, chances were that if N handed Ghetsis in to them, Ghetsis would never see the outside world again. It wasn’t an option he was willing to submit to just yet. N was happy to ascend to the castle’s more inviting main floor and try to forget about his father.

A lot had happened since Ghetsis’ defeat. Thankfully, enough members of the original Team Plasma had been loyal to N after Ghetsis’ defeat and were now the castle’s staff. One of the more experienced, dominant staff members (N didn’t really like calling them “grunts”) had helped N to make it into a place thar people could bring Pokemon who were too disabled to live in the wild or to be of use in battle. And thank goodness for that staff member. After Ghetsis’ defeat, N hadn’t known what he wanted to do aside from a vague idea of becoming a link between humans and Pokémon. He also didn’t know how to use a credit card, or apply for a job, or practically anything that Ghetsis hadn’t allowed him to know.

But it was okay. He was learning with the help of his staff. He had his sisters, Pokemon to look after, staff to handle the people-intensive tasks, a beautiful home far from civilization, and the freedom to go where he wanted, even if “where he wanted” meant peaceful wild areas and a self-imposed weekly visit to the cities to help him get accustomed to people.

Anthea ran up to N, holding a vulpix in her arms. “Hey, N. This little one just came in. She’s- Oh, right. It’s that time of month again, isn’t it? I’ll give you some time to cool down.”

“It’s okay. I can handle it,” N replied. He took the vulpix and held it in front of him. “And what brings you here today?” he asked her. The vulpix barked and squealed in response.

“Your joints stopped working as as well, so your trainer left you in a ditch? It was too steep for you to get out, so you were stuck there until a man took you here? That’s terrible. I’m sorry that your trainer did that to you. You don’t look very old. Are you?”

The vulpix shook its head.

“Hm. Maybe the joint problem is from a disease. Well, whatever it is, you’re going to be okay. Maybe you can still live in the wild and hunt with your fire. We could teach you a move like rock climb so you don’t end up in situations like the one your trainer left you in. And if that doesn’t work, you could stay with us. Let me walk you to where you’ll be staying.”

N put the creature down and began to lead her out to the castle’s garden, Anthea following along. Sure enough, she was walking very slowly and stiffly, but she didn’t seem to be in pain.

Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone in the waiting room that day- no motion at all except for the television. N caught the words “reformed villains” in the subtitles, and that got him to stop and watch.

The program was an interview of some sort from Alola. The interviewee was a pudgy, stylishly-dressed man with green eyes and black, undercut hair. According to the subtitles, the man’s name was “Iris.”

It sounds like the reformed Rainbow Rocket is nothing short of a miracle, the subtitles displayed as the interviewer’s mouth moved.

Iris chuckled modestly. I wouldn’t say that. It seemed they all regretted their actions and had no place to go after their attempted takeover of Aether Paradise, so after their leader ran off, I decided to take charge and give them a different direction. Some of them took more convincing than others, but no one truly wants to be evil. It just takes the right touch.

“Anthea, can you get Vulpix settled?” N asked, still transfixed by the screen.

“Sure,” Anthea answered, and N took off.

The second N was in his room, N was writing. He’d worry about finding the address later.

Hello, Iris,

This is N. I saw your interview about the reformed Rainbow Rocket. I could use some advice. You see, my dad is a villain. His name is Ghetsis- you’ve probably heard about him on the news. I defeated him a year ago. I want to

N stopped before he finished the sentence. The truth was, N didn’t know what he ideally wanted with Ghetsis. He erased the sentence fragment.

I don’t want to have him locked up for the rest of his life. Is there anything you can tell me about how to get through to him? It seems like you have a magic touch.

Thanks.

With the help of one his staff members, N sent the letter, and he recieved one in response that very night.

You need to come Alola as soon as possible. Team Rainbow Rocket is not reformed. I don’t have any power- my only job is to convince people that I do. Giovanni, the leader of Team Rocket and founder of Team Rainbow Rocket, broke me out of prison and helped me to change my name on the agreement that I would pull the wool over everyone’s eyes and act as their figurehead. I don’t even know what their end goal is, and I regret my cowardice.

I’ve heard whispers that Team Rainbow Rocket is planning an invasion of Unova. You run what was once a very powerful organization, and I want to give you all the knowledge I can provide so that you can fight against it. Giovanni is away on vacation for the next four days. I have included the coordinates to our location on the back of this letter. Come here and I will help you to infiltrate Team Rainbow Rocket for information.

Best regards,

Iris.

#pokemon #pokemon n #plasma leader ghetsis #team plasma #chairman rose #my fanfiction

20 notes · View notes

secondsonaym · 2 years

Text

Roleswap

Oh boy here we go

So, Roleswap Star and Narinder, huh... Well.

So I gotta think like. way back for this given she's basically in TOWW's role for this and like

It's kinda fitting, considering it would still tie into the whole hatred for Shamura and what have you

She sees Shamura as a friend, and her aspects of Death would lean more towards the acceptance and Preparation for it, so likely learned a lot from Shamura in that vein

So being chained away, she gets sooooooo very angry.

She got a bit too egotistical about death and how it held some level of power over all the others, and how life is merely Dying Very Slowly, so she gets a little too big for her britches, leading to being sealed away and becoming the One Who Waits for this.

The version of the prophecy would instead focus on cats rather than sheep, the prophecy itself being about a cat that has nine lives, something that's more or less a folktale and regarded as something that Can't Actually Happen, but still.

The only way to determine if a cat has these lives, of course, is to kill them. But then it becomes the whole cycle of witch trial logic, in if they die and don't come back, well, they're dead, and if they die and do come back, it means they're the cat of prophecy, so like. Just kill them some more, lol

So in comes Narinder, who is, of course, the unknown cat of prophecy. I would imagine since the prophecy is focused on a Special Cat rather than a Cat In General, that means that cat-kind isn't completely gone during this story, just scattered and hiding.

So he gets killed, but since he has multiple lives, Star is able to kind of just yoink him before he can fully revive to have a chat with him, and Star's prison is a bit different, too!

Star's theming of death is heavily centered on its duality with life, thus the imagery of flowers, but they're wilted and rotting, etc.

She recruits him to help her, being quite flirtatious as usual, playing the whole damsel in distress card, overall being sweet and amicable towards him, but when she thinks too much on the bishops, just EXPLODES into disgusting rage and needs a moment to settle.

The game kind of proceeds as normal, with Narinder going to take down the bishops, though he actually has the limit of his eight remaining lives to do so, since Star's powers are weakened without enough Devotion--and since the Devotion ends up going to Narinder, well...

At the end, she's actually somewhat reluctant and remorseful to actually drain his lives to bring herself to power, but realizes he has, in fact, been deified, and thus she really has no other choice, and then changes into her boss form.

Once defeated, she accepts the potential to be killed, fine with the fact that is is Narinder who finishes her off.

However, unlike Star, since he hasn't had his entire kind wiped out, I don't think he would have been as cold towards followers, and actually cared more about them.

Thus, he'd be more likely to spare her, with the thought process of steadily building the faith and seeking her assistance when needed.

And that's pretty much the meat and bones of it all, hoo-hoo... Thank you for reading my rambles~

#long post #starwatcher berserk #narinder #roleswap

35 notes · View notes

vuulpecula · 9 months

Text

✖ @paramounticebound nessa starter :)

“This darn air conditioner, I swear,” Nessa swore under her breath, trying again to get the thing to blast cold air from the vents. They needed a new car, one that was actually as nice as it looked on the outside, inside. Alas, they’d have to save for it and Nessa had never been very good at that. “Anyway, after we pick up your stepsister, we can go pick up some new clothes for you for school.” She grinned at her youngest, her only boy, the pride and joy of her life even if the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. It had only been a few years since she and Vitaly were given sole custody, after the unfortunate disappearance of his mother, and she thanked God every day for allowing her the gift of him.

To both of her children, she had explained that their once stepsister, Alexei’s only child, was now essentially parentless and out of the charity and love in their hearts, they were going to take her in. She had said nothing about how she was the poor girl’s actual mother nor how she was coming with a fat check from the state while her father was incarcerated. Instead, she made up some lie, sprinkled in a few half-truths, and continued to keep her cheery smile plastered on her face.

“You might not remember her,” she continued to fill the silence of the car—the radio didn’t work either. “You were both pretty young the last time we had her over—everyone knew her daddy was going to end up in prison, honestly I’m just surprised that it took him this long.” If she had made a police report, if she hadn’t found a way to extort money from the drunk, then he may have been behind bars way sooner. “I swear, sometimes I can’t believe I was foolish enough to marry that man—let that be a lesson to you, Khan, never marry your high-school sweetheart. It will only end in divorce and a whole lot of headaches.” Not that his father was much better, but at least he didn’t have as much of a wandering eye and a lust for all things violent and crude.

“To be honest, I have no idea what we’re driving into,” she admitted after a single moment of silence. It wasn’t a long drive, only twenty minutes or so. All back roads, some not even maintained enough to be classified as paved. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the house.” She still remembered the last time she had stood on the threshold, screaming at Alexei for how he had embarrassed her at the most recent gathering. It had stank of booze and sweat and urine and rot. There was no food in the fridge, no milk, no juice, nothing suitable for the child living there. There’d been plenty of liquor, an enormous amount of empty beer cans and bottles, some shattered on the floor. Fox had been playing with one, cutting out a paper dress out of newspapers to make her own doll ( apparently there had been an incident a few weeks after where she had brought the doll to school and still, no one looked into it. everyone knew alexei alkaev was a dirt-poor drunk, they just didn’t know what else he was ). “Just remember to be nice, okay? We’re the only family she has left on this side of the Mississippi.” She frowned, seeing the turn to the overgrown driveway. “You’ll be in the same class, so I’m relying on you to help me out, can you do that for me?” As if the daughter she was picking up was more of a puppy than a girl grown. “I can bet she picked up on some of her daddy’s bad habits.”

As she took the turn, Nessa sucked in a breath. There was a police cruiser parked in the grass by the porch, the vehicle far too old to still be in commission, but that was how this town was. Scanning for the officer, she found her leaning against the peeling porch rails. Mouth moving as if she was talking, but it wasn’t until she rounded a clump of fallen magnolias that she saw who the officer was speaking to. Fox. All arms and legs. One shoe untied. Knees dotted with bruises and band-aids, looking just as lonesome as the last time she had seen her. “Good lord,” Nessa breathed, pulling the car into park. “Give us strength.” The air had gone hot again by the time she shut off the car, giving Khan a pitying look as if they were the ones about to suffer with the added mouth to feed. “Go ahead and get the bags in the trunk, surely there are more in the house.” There weren’t. There was one suitcase and a pair of worn skates. Her backpack was hooked around her shoulders and aside from a notebook and some pencils, there wasn’t much within it.

#paramounticebound #[ honestly this got so freaking long bc i love the southern gothic setting so much u know that ]#[ so that is why there is a read more lmfao ]#x | v. god loves you; but not enough to save you ( CLOSED THREE. )#x | i sometimes wish i stayed inside my mother never to come out ( NESSA. )#religion mention tw #religion tw #abuse tw

3 notes · View notes

writeyouin · 1 year

Text

Treavor Pendleton X Male-Reader – Memories of the Golden Cat (COMMISSION)

A/N - @ssimpaticotico I hope this is the kind of story that you wanted, and it was very fun for me to step back into the Dishonoured fandom.

Description – When Treavor Pendleton finds himself in Coldridge Prison, he finds himself thinking of the past and a love with the reader which he gave up for status.

Warnings – Mature Themes. Mentions of prostitution and slight homophobia.

Rating – T

Word Count: 3148

Coldridge prison was a dark, grim place, full of criminals that had chosen to give up and be captured instead of killed by Dunwall’s armed forces. Some might argue that death was true freedom and better than any cell, but they hadn’t seen the Watch’s Tall Boys, or come face to face with a Wolfhound that threatened to tear them limb from painful limb.

Yet, under the new reign of Empress Emily Kaldwin, there were rumours that things were getting better in Dunwall, and it was only a matter of time before prison conditions started changing. Strictly speaking, the first change had already been implemented in a way, as the rats that ran rampant in the cells, stealing mouldy food and tormenting the inmates further were no longer diseased, carrying no risk of the plague. For many, that was enough; it was certainly more than Treavor Pendleton thought he deserved as he rotted in the cold, cinderblock cell that had been designated to him.

Frankly, after betraying the Loyalists and teaming up with Havelock, Pendleton should have been dead. When Havelock poisoned him, that should have been the end but thanks to sheer dumb luck, and a defective poison capsule, he had survived, only to be captured by Corvo, Emily’s loyal pet protector. After coming to and realising what had happened, Pendleton had wondered why his life had been spared when Corvo should have executed him for treason, but when the country was ruled by a child with only a bodyguard to guide her, it became clear that Corvo was merely trying to set a good example and shield Emily from further bloodshed.

Since his incarceration, Treavor had spent a lot of time thinking about that, but the problem with prison was that there was only time, and nothing to do, so when he had finished thinking about that, his mind naturally lingered on other times, times which he didn’t want to remember; alas, with no alcohol to make him forget, Treavor was forced to succumb to his memories.

Trapped in his mind, Treavor was transported back to The Golden Cat. Brothel, bathhouse, theatre. The red-lined walls and marble floors were everything to a man like him, and they didn’t mind catering to whatever needs a man such as himself had. At The Golden Cats’ discretion, Treavor could enjoy the finest of drinks, lavish himself with pleasures denied to poorer men, and most importantly, he could safely lower his guard, since as long as he was paying, The Golden Cat didn’t care what kind of company he kept, even if it was of the male variety.

Having few male prostitutes, it became a common occurrence for The Golden Cat to send you to Treavor, waiting for him on the bed in the middle of the room, scantily clad for his enjoyment. The first few times, Treavor used you only for your intended purpose which was solely for his pleasure. However, when one is amorous with the same person multiple times, it’s often inevitable that a certain attachment should form, and so Treavor found himself asking only for you, and not one of the few other men at The Golden Cat’s disposal.

Over time, Pendleton began to confide in you, he would speak of his tortured past, and the way his brothers tormented him. Sometimes, Treavor spoke of Havelock and how he hated relying on such a man, yet he was careful to keep any mentions of a possible Loyalist rebellion out of the matter, instead choosing to pass comment on how the city wasn’t what it used to be. Occasionally, you would weigh in on the conversations and comfort him with kind words and sweet embraces, but for the most part, you stayed quiet, simply giving Treavor a sympathetic ear.

Finally, Treavor’s feelings came to a head one night. He left you on the bed and made his way to the balcony, grabbing a bottle of champagne on the way and drinking straight from it instead of pouring it into delicate flutes as he normally would have.

“Treavor, are you okay, my darling?” You asked, using the pet name he liked so much; hearing it usually gave him a sense of intimacy that he never had to earn, having paid for the privilege, but just then he didn’t feel any love for the term of endearment.

“(Y/N),” He said your name solemnly, looking out the window, and then taking another swig of champagne to strengthen his resolve for the conversation ahead. “Am I a terrible person?”

After knowing Treavor for so long, he had told you much of what he had done in his life. Some of it was marginally good, but a lot of what he had done was downright heinous. The problem wasn’t that he was a terrible person, but rather that he was just another person doing whatever it took to boost his own financial gain. Occasionally, that led him to make good choices, but more often than not, it made him act hideously and even though he was more self-aware than most of Dunwall’s other aristocrats, he knew that his exploitation of workers and other such crimes were wrong.

“You can be,” You answered honestly.

“Then why are you here, with me?” He demanded, perplexed by the conversation which he had started.

"Because you pay me."

Treavor looked at you, having not expected you to be so forthcoming in your honesty. If he wanted to, he could have had you lashed for that, or even killed, if it so pleased him. But he had asked you a question and you had answered him truthfully and with integrity, and for that he respected you, even if he hated your response.

"But," You said after a minute of him staring at you in anguish, "I would stay with you if you asked me to. No money. No Golden Cat. Just you and me, somewhere quiet... a nice cottage maybe. Somewhere we could get away from it all and settle down."

Treavor's gaze dropped to the floor and when it became clear that he couldn't look you in the eye, he turned back to the balcony, looking over The Golden Cats' beautiful gardens which acted as a mask for the hideous city beyond.

You weren't sure whether he didn't reciprocate your affections because he was scared of losing his aristocracy and wealth, or whether it was because he was afraid of the stigma that came with two men who displayed their love openly and without fear. After so much time with Treavor, you knew that he had slept with two of the three Boyle sisters, and probably other women of status who were also bored, but he didn't care for them. It was an act of self-preservation so that he could avoid suspicion; those women were his beard, and he was their plaything.

Then again, perhaps Treavor didn't even have a reason to reject your offer other than you had slighted him, and he was likely not willing to take such a chance on a relationship in which he didn't know he could fall in love with you; for a man who had so much, maybe love wasn't even worth the sacrifice.

“Such folly would be nice,” He said after a time.

“But you won’t accept my offer,” You replied forlornly, “Because here, you’re my Master, and I’m just your distraction.”

Treavor didn’t deny the accusation, even though it stung him to hear. You were right. Unless you left The Golden Cat and he gave up the life he was addicted to, the two of you wouldn’t be equals; it was an impossibility.

Besides, Treavor also had to make peace with his jealousy. When he wasn’t there, you were being passed around to other clients of The Golden Cat, and he seethed inside when he wondered how they used you and if you secretly enjoyed being with them more than you liked his company. Life was a game and there were winners and losers, and those on the losing team had to try everything in their power to become winners. Treavor largely believed that whatever you were offering him didn’t come without a price and that you were secretly after his wealth; what he didn’t realise was that there were some people, like yourself who only sought peace and happiness, never playing any kind of twisted game at all.

"What do we do from here?" Treavor asked, finally looking at you.

His gaze said that he wanted to believe in the world that you offered but there was a certain anger in his eyes that told you all you needed to know; he couldn't.

"We do what we always do," You told him with a demure smile that said you had slipped back into the role you had been assigned; Golden Cat prostitute. "You come back to bed, and I do whatever you want."

Treavor nodded and put the champagne bottle back onto the table. He sat next to you and let you take over. You placed your hand around his neck, kissing him fervently and laying him down on the bed.

Treavor remembered every touch, kiss, embrace, and whisper that night; it was the last night he saw you, for when he returned to The Golden Cat over a month later, he was told that you had left the premises and moved somewhere in Karnaca where the mess of Dunwall didn't reach, including the filthy rat plague which claimed every good or poor life that couldn't afford protection.

"Enough!" Treavor cried out, the call echoing through his cell and alerting the other prisoners to his anguish.

Bored of their own miserable lives, many rose to the occasion to taunt him; they didn't know who he was, having no way to see into his cell, but in prison, it was easy for men to become animals, and these animals gibbered insults to further torment Pendleton. Yet, Treavor welcomed their jeering; it served as a painful wake-up call and it kept him from slipping back into his memories. He didn't want to go back there when he was powerless to change the past or the person who he had once been.

Every day in prison was the same. Sit, wallow in self-pity, pace one's cell so that the muscles didn't atrophy, and wait until some kind of slop unworthy of even the rats was posted through the mail slot in the door.

So, when that cycle was interrupted by a Watch guard who entered Treavor's cell, Treavor wasn't sure what to think. He imagined that his time was up and that by now Emily had forgotten about him, so Corvo had secretly set up his execution, but then the guard spoke and Treavor was flummoxed by his admission.

"Treavor Pendleton," He stated with derision, "The fee set by the crown for your release into society has been paid in full. As such, you will be escorted from Coldridge Prison and re-integrated into society. Any further crimes you commit will result in immediate imprisonment or death as decided by Lord Protector Corvo Attano."

Trevor scrutinised the guard. He didn't even know that he had the option of an emancipation fee. Then again, it made sense. The treasury desperately needed money if it was to build up Dunwall again. Most of the money it required had been taken from the rich who had been protected during the awful events of the rat plague, but that still wasn't enough; as a part of his punishment, Treavor's fortune had also been seized, not that he needed it in prison.

Yet, the question that remained was, who had paid for Treavor's freedom? During the current upper-class upheaval, it certainly wasn't one of his old associates who wouldn't care for anyone but themselves. No, it had to be someone else, but who had that kind of money?

Treavor didn't know, but he did care. He didn't want to owe someone in the future; being indebted to someone could only lead him to further trouble and he was done being a puppet to those he had so ignorantly thought he could read.

“Who did this?” He asked the guard contemptuously.

The guard sneered, “Your bailor’s waiting outside. Doesn’t matter to us who he is.”

He? That was the only clue Pendleton had, and he was using it to work through the list of people he knew in his head, each worse than the last. Yet, when he was finally allowed out in the courtyard, he found that the man who had freed him from his incarceration was none other than his old flame, his lover from The Golden Cat all those years ago.

You looked good and somewhat different from what you used to. Your clothes had always been fine at The Golden Cat, but now, they were the clothes of a man who chose for himself and could be anything that he wanted to be. You held yourself proudly and had clearly made something of yourself.

When Treavor got to you, he opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Stand tall, and don’t look back,” You instructed him.

He walked beside you, frowning at the sudden equality between the two of you; it wasn’t all that long ago that he was the only one allowed to give orders, yet he did as you told him anyway.

“What’s going on?” He said in hushed tones, all too aware that even the walls had ears.

You shook your head, “Not here.” He nodded once in understanding; it was hardly the way two former lovers should have been reunited, but things had changed and life was always far too sensible in Dunwall.

You took Treavor to a small cottage which, though not untouched by the plague still had a picturesque charm to it. It was far from the city and on the cable car ride over, you had said nothing, though that suited Treavor just fine as he was exhausted by his time in Coldridge.

When he got out of the car, he insisted that it was time to talk but you just shook your head and told him that you would talk after he had bathed and had some fresh food. Although the two of you had known one another in the past, Treavor didn’t believe you had no ulterior motive for your kindness and it showed from the way he acted. Despite Treavor’s clear mistrust, you drew him a bath and while he soaked, cooked him a hot meal, the likes of which he hadn’t seen since his incarceration.

The two of you ate together and at the end of the meal, you brought Treavor a sweet liquor. By that point, he couldn’t wait any longer and he cast the drink aside.

“(Y/N), what’s going on here? I haven’t seen you in years and suddenly you’re back and acting strangely. Why are you here?”

“You always were suspicious, Treavor,” You smiled, shaking your head. “The fact is, I’m not acting strange at all. You’re just not used to people being kind unless you pay them to be.”

“I thought you were in Karnaca,” Treavor pouted, having been bested by you.

“I was. I built a business empire there. Coffee trade.”

“So, in the end, it all comes down to business. What is it then?”

“Would you relax?” You laughed, speaking to him in a manner that you hadn’t when he had paid for your services.

“Take a look around, Treavor. We’re in a cottage by the sea, sharing a drink. We’ve had a nice meal together, and given some work this could be a nice place to live; the kind of place I always wanted anyway.”

“Your point being?” Treavor asked sardonically.

“This is the life you rejected before when you couldn’t give everything up.”

“So, you’re here to taunt me then.”

“Taunt you?” You asked incredulously.

You got up and paced the room, dragging your hand down your chin.

“I was here to offer you this life again,” You said after a minute.

“What? Why?”

You turned to face him, “Because I thought you might have loved me once, or that you might love me still. Or maybe because I still love you, despite what reason tells me.”

“I made a name for myself, and I thought that I’d be able to forget you, but I couldn’t. Then, I heard about the Loyalist Conspiracy and that you had been arrested. I sold my business quickly and for half its worth and used the money to pay for your freedom, and I still have enough to live a moderately comfortable life with,” You explained.

“Look, Treavor,” You grabbed his hands, glad when he didn’t pull away from your grasp. “My life won’t be grand or full of parties, drinking, and riches, but it will be a life that I’m proud of, and despite all that we’ve been through, I would like you to be a part of it.”

Treavor looked down at the floor, “I don’t deserve your love or your kindness, and marriage between us is illegal.”

“So?” You said, ignoring his spiral into shame. “If you wish to be with me, then we shall be married in spirit, and that alone should count for something.”

Treavor didn’t respond.

You caressed his cheek and drew him into a kiss, holding your lips against his for only a moment, before leaving him alone at the wooden table.

“Think about it,” You told him as you left the room.

But Treavor didn’t have to think over things. He had meant what he said in that he didn’t deserve the love of another, but when was love ever denied to one who needed it most?

“Wait,” He said.

You did, and he joined you, following you upstairs to the bedroom. The two of you shared a bed, becoming reacquainted with one another, though for the first time, the two of you were equals.

Like My Work? Buy Me A Ko-Fi @ https://ko-fi.com/writeyouin

#dishonored #treavor pendleton #treavor pendleton x reader #treavor pendleton x male-reader #treavor pendleton x you #memories of the golden cat #fanfiction #fanfic #reader #reader insert

11 notes · View notes

umbra-domini · 11 months

Text

| @flower-bites plotted a starter!

Zed was never the kind of person to be paranoid about things. He took most in stride and often times did not worry himself with matters that he didn't see worth worrying about. There wasn't much that bothered him, wasn't much that was enough to make him start keeping his guard up. He knew that he was powerful, that he was strong enough to hold his own in the majority of cases. Realistically speaking, there really wasn't much that should bother him, yet alone make him feel ebbs of … anxiety? worry? paranoia? Whatever it was.

But it was like a small lurch in his stomach that was eating away at him. Something that he refused to acknowledge. Something that, like with the majority of what he felt - he would refuse to acknowledge until it was too much to ignore. But it hadn't gotten to that point. So he would choke it down and drown whatever feelings that he was having. He was far too busy trying to look after his order and keep an eye out for any threats to Ionia to deal with it anyways.

Ironically, his keeping an eye out for threats was what had caused these feelings in the first place. It wasn't confirmed, no, but there had been some people talking about killings in the nation of Zaun that struck a chord within him. That seemed eerily familiar. Ghosts of his past that haunted him, shadows in the dark that kept him up at night. The horrors of what he had seen as a mere boy… things that stuck with him and shaped him into the man he was now. Shaped him into what could be seen as a ruthless killer, not wanting to simply toss a threat away in a prison but instead choosing to snuff them out with his own hands. He had reasons for what he did -- as much as he may be seen as cruel for it. No - he knew that it was the only right thing to do, that not bringing someone of the likes to justice was only leaving the door open for more harm in the future.

There was a bitterness within him, and he knew he couldn't change it. And yet he still fixated over it when things got too quiet, when he found himself with nothing to do. The thoughts getting far too much, regrets of the past. He was bitter that they had not killed the man who brought so much destruction to his beautiful Nation. That they had not brought justice to the man whose name still haunted him --- Khada Jhin.

That instead, he had been taken to rot away in stone walls. Something that had been ensured would be forever, that there was no chance of him escaping. But as he caught wind of more and more murders across nations far from here.. ones that were just as … gruesome as those years ago. There was a part of him that wondered if perhaps it hadn't been a set in stone guarantee, that perhaps, something had happened that resulted in that psychopath with a heart of ice being set free. Being able to slaughter men like cattle once more.

Of course.. that wasn't possible right? It merely had to be a coincidence… there was no way that Jhin could have gotten freed without an accomplice. But… the whole thing had put Zed on edge. He was more alert, more aware of the people that were coming in and out of Ionia. Anyone that seemed out of place, seemed a bit suspicious was someone that he would set his sights on and trail for a bit. Just to make sure there was no nefarious purpose. And so far, things were fine there wasn't anyone that he had deemed as too out of place that had raised any red flags after he spent some time looking into it. Things would be fine right?

But there was someone that stuck out to him, and he was quick to pull himself to his feet. A woman who looked out of place, someone who wasn't from here. It was not hard to spot someone who clearly didn't belong, who wasn't from Ionia. Between the ways they dressed mixed with looking out of place, pinpointing someone who wasn't local wasn't hard. Another person to follow, someone who, Zed was certain would end up like the others - of no interest. But it never did hurt to check, and so he was on the move yet again. Bringing himself closer to her, gaze narrowing slightly as he watched.

Then - after a few moments, he would approach. His gaze flickering over her as he tried to determine her purpose here. Then he would speak - " You don't look like you're from here. " there was no attempt to come off as friendly, if anything his tone was more like he was prodding for information. Trying to figure out where she was from. What her purpose was.

#IC tag tbd #flower-bites #i... wrote so much oopsie sdkalhfaklsd #if you need any changes let me know! <3

4 notes · View notes

quasieli · 2 years

Text

Can you believe!!! It's been three years!?! Happy anniversary to the Reforged Campaign!!! Today in 2019, some of our little blorbos met for the first time, gathering up some new friends along the way. We've been through so much together and I just wanna get gushy and talk about my lovely friends who have made this little fantasy game so enjoyable and have contributed to my D&D brain rot for all this time lol.

@army-of-bee-assassins Joyce, playing Whitlock: the axe-swinging, tubthumping, Fighter/Wizard of our dreams ✨️ There's a reason we've said that if you don't love Whitlock, you're wrong. While a badass in combat (I'll never forget the fireball that took out nearly a dozen ghuls at once 🤩🥰), outside of our intense fights, Whitlock is the epitome of kindness and caring. It only made sense that this care combined with his love of the arcane led him to the school of Abjuration, he is a protector through and through. One thing that continues to astound me about Whitlock is that even after almost drowning (multiple times) and losing his home and his whole old life to the seas, Whitlock still has fought for elementals who have been enslaved and mistreated, because that's who he is. He stands up for the little guy, even when the little guy may be much bigger than he is. He is selfless in his actions, some may call him reckless (like being the first to charge into an unknown encounter, even if his initiative score doesn't usually reflect that lol), but I wouldn't. I would call it faith, because he has faith in his skills and he has faith in his friends, to be there right behind him, as he is always behind them. Love our sailor boy, I am forever on Team Beans 💙

@lacklusterlexicon Alyx, playing Kempa/Eun Ha: the best shirtless dragonborn Barbarian bhimbo you could ask for⚡️Alyx first joined our group as a guest, playing the lovely tiefling druid Kaia and it was a pleasure to have hir at our side as we fought the terrors of the Shadowfell and the corruption it brought to the Prime Material. But as that mini arc drew to an end, we as players knew we had found something special with Alyx and knew we couldn't let them go so easily. It was then that we were introduced to Kempa (then Eun Ha) and it soon felt like she had been with us since day 1. Oh Kempa, my beloved Kempa. She had been through a lot before reaching our little group, things that made her angry and that rage fueled her fight. But the rage did not consume her, she instead used her pain to push forward, to try and find her lost friend, and found a new family in the course of that mission. Kempa can sometimes be the goofy jock barbarian stereotype, but she is so so so much more than that. She brings kindness and empathy into everything she does. When we learned a lackey that we captured and interrogated was just a person down on their luck looking to make a living, we could've just let them go and been done with it, but not Kempa. Kempa gave them money, not wanting to contribute more pain into an already harsh world. Sure she can shoot lightning out of her mouth and decapitate a bad guy with a single swing of her halberd, but the core of Kempa is compassion, listening to others to understand rather than just making harsh judgements. I'm glad to have her on our side 💙

@lichfucker Tess, playing Ingot the Feather-Light: the sharpshooting, noble-turned-hero tiefling Ranger/Rogue 🏹 Ingot Ingot Ingot, what's there to say about him (that I can say without crying lol)? From the outside, it may appear as though everything was given to Ingot on a silver platter, what with his noble upbringing and having received the highest standard of archery training. But to look at him through this lens would be to do the utmost disservice to his character. Ingot has worked for everything that he has. He was the one who chose to veer off the path his parents had set for him and for what reason? To stand up for a stranger, a prisoner of war who just so happened to be just like them, a tiefling. Since that day, Ingot started to become the person he was truly meant to be, his upbringing and any devil’s contracts be damned. The real Ingot is not a good little soldier boy who just takes orders from the war machine. No, Ingot is a fighter, using their bow and arrow when they damn well please. You do not want to be on the wrong end of Ingot's ire. But more than that, Ingot's learned to be a lover as well. Despite his cold upbringing, he has forged a new family of his own, one that loves him for him, not for what he can or can't do. Ingot is not a soldier, he is a friend, a damn good one at that, even when he may act like a bit of a bitch. It's okay, we still love him, and it has been an honor to be on Team Tief with him 💙

@keplercryptids JD, our dearest creative, dedicated, a little bit insane (affectionate), and all around amazing DM and friend 💚 Thank you for creating Z’ress and Mahety and Suri and Dagen and Lorne and Nabil and Najiba and Temza and Gell and Ohestra and Z'rael and Levsais and Cover and Ildan (🙄 /j) and Polodren (:fearhamster:) and just the whole entire world that is Sirona, and the planes beyond the material! This world you have created is expansive and feels so real that it makes it so easy to feel like we are our characters, walking through it and living out their adventures. Thank you for the weeks and months and years of hard work you have put into making out little fantasy game. Never did I think we'd have what we have now three years ago, that not only am I still involved with this super cool game, but I made long lasting friendships with some of the best people I've had the pleasure to meet (online at least, but hopefully soon we'll all be together!). You facilitated that, you brought us all together and have kept us together and that's not an easy feat for five adults lol. Thank you for the cool mechanical parts of this game that have been the most insanely fun encounters that really challenge us to think creatively, even when we may get stumped by a puzzle where the answer was we had to walk into an unlocked room to get a key 😅. Thank you for the world of NPCs with vibrant personalities and who are complex and complicated and messy and funny and interesting and loving. Thank you for their wisdom and their friendship. Thank you for your friendship, you've taught me a lot and I will value it forever. Thanks for just being awesome 💙

And last but not least, shoutout to JD's best friend, who played the gentle titan of destruction, Salvador, and @artemissoteira AKA Rowan, as Ithren (if that even is their real name lol) for joining us along the way as guests, who made our little world all the more special. I appreciate and love all of you. Here's to many more years in our funny little fantasy worlds 💙💙💙

#Eli Speaks #SICL #Reforged Campaign #this is long and rambly but I had to get it out #I just love my friends so much 😭😭😭#Joyce #Alyx #Tess #JD #Rowan #Long Post

15 notes · View notes

mineonmain · 2 years

Text

KINNPORSCHE EP 11 (Spoilers, duh)

gawd I know I'm so late but life happens. It's literally like 12 hours before the next ep drops, but better late than never right? anyways here's my usual recap of highlights from the ep, random shit that stood out to me:

Kinnporsche: ok fine. tooth-rotting sweetness. almost too much for me to watch at times. both of them admitting to each other's families (EEEEEEEE) that they love each other. floating hearts everywhere. So lost in themselves that they seem to have forgotten mafia duties, big brother duties, friend duties, or literally any other duties other than getting their dicks wet. To think we haven't gotten the pool scene OR the 'i'm on your side' scene yet...fear.jpg

Kimchay: Kim you are so close to being on my shit list. I've said it before, but the only reason you're on thin ice but not in the sub-arctic waters is because I love Jeff. The thing is, I'm sure that Kim said that to protect (??) Chay from whatever shenanigans he's up to, but he better start resolving it soon. It's been there as a B plot/C plot since the early episodes, but it hasn't really progressed, and also it hasn't been made clear to the audience why we should care about whatever he's investigating. What impact does it have on our protagonists, other than the fact that it involves the Kittisawat parents? Also, we haven't seen much from Kim's POV so far, we need to see that there's a private side to him that isn't his cold facade, that he cares for Chay and struggled with his decision to let him go. (People who have read the books, this is not an invitation to slide into my DMs and explain, this is me critiquing the show's writing and storytelling technique, i'm not asking anyone to explain the actual plot to me lmao)

VegasPete: Oh boy oh boy oh boy. Vegas' sadistic side was probably born out of him needing a release from the violence his father inflicted upon him, him needing an outlet for all that pain. Understandably, he wanted someone else to feel the pain that he felt. In a way, every time Vegas has tortured someone, it was him calling out to the universe begging to be seen, to be heard, to be understood. He obviously didn't know this himself, how would he. He's suppressed any part of him that involves self-reflection, except the awareness that he's Fucked Up. His entire personality is a combination of Please Dad, Protect Macau, Piss Off Kinn, and Fuck the World Up. What I find so interesting, is the parallel between Porsche and Pete. They are both beacons of light in a world that's perpetually shrouded in darkness, and they are both bright sparks despite the shit they've both been through, making them ideal partners for Kinn/Vegas. They can help them out of the darkness without being idealistic, because they can understand what they other's been through. Vegas wanted to be seen, and Pete saw him, and saw right through him. Vegas tried to break him down the way his father has constantly broken him, but Pete broke through Vegas' walls instead. Vegas realises this, and knowing that in turn sees Pete properly for the first time. Not as Porsche's shadow, not as just another (head) bodyguard for the major family. And after their first real conversation, Vegas is going to go through a paradigm shift - it's already started, in fact. In his mind, Pete is elevating himself from the position of prisoner to someone on an equal level with Vegas mentally, and consequently Vegas is going to want to do things to Pete not because he likes seeing Pete in pain, but because he likes pleasing Pete and Pete himself is going to want it and enjoy it. It's about time Pete starting living for himself. I'm sure I could write a lot more about just their characters, and the symbolism around levels in the different scenes between their characters and how it changed throughout the episode, but I can't quite put it into words. This is enough already.

Things I need in the next ep:

KinnChay interactions A S A P

KinnKim interactions, why are they literally never in the same frame??

Kimhan. Mr. Kimothy. Sir Kimlock Holmes. If you don't explain yourself, both your actions towards baby Chay and also what all investigative spy work you've been up to, or so help me god i'll let Tankhun loose on you

VegasPete is going to follow their natural progression of events, so the next new conflict has to arise - Kim's info on the Kittisawats in connection with Korn??

P.S. I refuse to entertain the idea of ChayMacau. Absolutely not. I haven't read the book so I don't know but the little Macau that we've in the show is like, even more childish than Chay. I don't even want to see them talk to each other. If this makes me salty and petty so be it. I've said before that I'm not the biggest fan of JeffBarcode (as a pairing) but I will not think of any other pairing other than KimChay, and that's on that.

32 notes · View notes