#which isn't a lot. but you know. i feel like i'm going insane with red string over here anyway. BUT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dante-mightdie · 5 months

Note

Jumping aboard the 141 dog train bc woof. No need to make anything of this if you don't feel like it, just sharing my thoughts :)

Imagine reader being a show dog. I myself am picturing a Beauceron or a Red Belgian Tervuren, purely because they're just so gorgeous and striking, but feel free to imagine whatever breed you please. — Laswell finds you traipsing along the side of the road late at night, trembling from the cold and trotting in an oddly rigid manner—your head held high away from the ground and tail pointed skyward. That's weird. A high tail means confidence, but what could you possibly be confident about? And shouldn't a dog keep their head low, sniffing out their path?

She pulls over and you bound up to the car, which is another red flag for her. A lone dog out in the backroads should be a lot more cautious about random vehicles stopping right beside you, but you're only disinterested when the door opens and you see that it's only her inside.

It's then that she sees the thick, jewel-encrusted white leather collar buckled around your throat. There isn't a name or a number on it anywhere. It's purely for decoration. It's then that she also notices just how shiny your coat is, proudly wearing your healthy layer of silky fur like it was an expensive accessory.

Without the shadow of a doubt, you are a pampered little thing who is far, far away from home.

It comes as a shock to her that you're actually a hybrid, and not just some stray mutt. She only manages to get you in the car with gentle persuasion and the promise of a warm interior and some water.

Once inside, she shoots a message to Price and starts asking you questions.

"Am I correct in assuming that you're a... show dog?"

The haughtiness in your voice as you respond has Kate silently reminding herself that she was no better than whoever deserted you on the side of the road if she kicked you out.

"Tsk. Show dog. Ugh, please. I'm a consecutive eight-time international blue-ribbon champion of the World of Canines pageant. I'm a legend."

That reply is more than enough to convince Kate that silence would be much better suited for the duration of the ride. You don't agree.

"Where are we going?" You asked snappily once you realized you hadn't told her where you were going, "Why haven't you contacted my owners?"

"Sweetie—" Kate began patiently with a wry laugh, starting off with an endearment the way her wife would when she wanted to deescalate a situation "—you have zero contact information on you. I don't know who your owners are."

The incredulous look you gave her would've been funny if you hadn't been dead serious.

"What?" You all but yipped, "How on earth do you not know my owners? Actually— how on earth do you not know me?"

The thought of dumping you back into the snow for the wolves to ravage was a tempting one, but the image of Price and his boys putting you in your place was an even more satisfying one. At least, she hoped they would be able to manage you. There was also the chance that you would be so insufferable that you drove the boys to insanity, but she had seen her mutts stomach worse. She likes to think you'd make a nice little gift for them. They always loved a challenge.

She didn't bother answering you.

When you arrived at the top of a twisting path up a hillside—complaining every bit of the way about how the gravelly roads were giving you a headache and that you'd be getting eyebags soon if you didn't get your beauty rest—your nose crinkled in disgust. There were too many clashing scents that assaulted your powdered nose, having been far too accustomed to the poignant fragrances of the perfumes and potpourris you were bestowed in your vanity back at home.

"A cabin?" You sneered distastefully, huffing, "This is where you stay?"

"Nope." Laswell exited the driver's side and yanked the passenger door open, not bothering to hid her amusement when you almost fell out of the vehicle with a startled yelp. "It's where you'll be staying."

It was hard to miss the harrowed expression of dread that befell your features as those words met your perky ears.

"So until I can manage to get ahold of your owners, I suggest you behave, alright?"

She stepped back and pulled you out of the SUV—a birdlike screech of abhorrence exiting your lungs as she did.

"But in the meantime, boys, I've got you something to sharpen your teeth on."

You turned your head to locate who she was talking to, and felt your heart drop to your stomach when your gaze landed on a barrel-chested man standing proudly with a Rottweiler, Doberman, and a Rough Collie at his sides.

Your hackles stood on their ends. — I've got more to follow that's in a more sequential bullet-point style, but I'll cut it here for now bc I don't want it to get too long!

So, this post is just going to be me posting this ask. It arrived in 3 parts so i'll paste the second two parts under the 'keep reading'

@sugar-n-sweets said they'll post an edited version on their blog so please check it out :)

"This what you texted me about, Laswell?" The man asked, gesturing a finger towards you.

"Yeah, found her taking a late-night solo walk just a bit ago." Laswell readied herself to hop back into the car. "Figured you're more suited to house strays than myself."

The panic running rampant in your veins increased tenfold as you watched her slide in behind the wheel.

"No, you— you can't do this! You can't leave me here with— with them!"

Kate rubbed her temples and turned to you.

"Kid, you've got nowhere else to go. This is the only occupied property for miles, and I certainly can't take you back home to my wife. She's allergic to dogs."

A bold-faced lie. But you didn't need to know that.

You paled, looking back at the man and his dogs with wide eyes and a gaping jaw.

"This can't be happening," you muttered aloud to no one in particular but yourself.

"Sure it can," the man sang out to you as he trotted down the stoop of the porch. You didn't miss the glint in his eyes at your cowering as he approached.

"Now come on inside, love. We wouldn't want you to get sick out here."

You entered the cabin, but only to avoid that man's hand grabbing your collar when he reached out for you. You shuddered at how close he had been to grazing your precious coat. In a place like this with a mangy scent like that... only God knew where those hands had been.

You watched the man stalk off to a room down the hall, a manila folder tucked underneath his arm.

You just about shrieked when a cold, wet nose was pressed into your hip. You jumped back with your teeth bared.

"Look at tha' gait. Never seen anythin' more unnatural." The brogue was thick with the signature of Scots, rumbling from the chest of the Rough Collie as he spoke. "Y'got a name?"

Your shoulders tensed in apprehension when the question arose.

"Got a n— yes, I have a name!" You snapped irritably, "Just look at me!"

"Oh, I'm looking, alright." The Rottweiler chuffed from a distance, "Not much of a sight, if you ask me."

You could've given everyone else whiplash with how quickly you swiveled your neck to face the bemused dog.

"Excuse me?" You growled, hackles stiff and raised to their limit. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

The Scot rolled his eyes.

"If we did, ah wouldnae be askin' fer yer name." His eyes seemed to rake over your form, as if sizing you up. "What makes you so special, huh? What makes you so different from all the other mutts?"

Your eye twitched.

"Mutt?" Your voice began low, calculated and simmering in the rage that was about to boil over the edge and scald anyone standing too close. "Mutt?! I am no mutt! I am a purebred specimen of a luxury breed—"

"So you're stuck up," the Doberman snorted, sneering at you down the length of his snout. "Purebreds are only good for looking pretty. An aesthetic commodity."

The fury you felt with trying to get a word in with these dogs had your fur bristling with a type of rage that you had never before been acquainted with. "I am not stuck up! I am a consecutive eight-time international blue-ribbon ch—"

"Oh, so we've got a spoiled little whelp here, eh? Hope you don't expect us to pamper ye."

The frustrated squawk you let out hardly resembled anything that of a dog's cry. — Adjusting was not an easy feature to achieve.

As a show dog, you had no proper "domestic" life. You were a means of income—prize money. The only interaction you had with other hybrids, let alone animals, was with your competitions. So it was safe to say that things hadn't been going in your favor.

You struggled to keep up with them on their daily hikes around their property, as well as the only one who wore a leash. Even if there was no way you stood a chance at outrunning them, they found it amusing to tether you to a lead of rope and tug when you were falling behind—which was always. In order to keep a slim, show-ready figure, your owners never allotted you any more than ten minutes of a casual walk per day. If you even tried to speed it up to a slight trot, your time was cut in half. You did not have the muscle you needed to survive out here and it showed.

You were more humiliated than anything when Price had shoved you off the couch and sprayed you with a bottle, which especially irritated you because you weren't a cat! You were a dog! But fighting back was the last thing on your mind when you were struggling to find comfort on the hardwood floors while all three dogs were curled up with their Captain on his bed.

But over the past two weeks, you had more things to worry about than sore legs and a bruised ego. Since day one, these dogs had been cruel. They found joy in putting you through absolute misery time and time again, like a joke that never gets old.

Gaz made it his personal mission to inconvenience you at any available opportunity. He ate from your bowl, stepped on your tail, kicked you awake when you thought you were safe enough to take a nap—little things to just irk you in the worst way possible.

Ghost pissed you off by acting like you didn't exist half the time. He figured that since you were so accustomed to being recognized for your quote-unquote "achievements", being ignored was the equivalent of a swift kick to the gut. He was wrong. It was more like a sledgehammer to the kidneys in your case.

Soap was much more forward with his advances. He just wanted to piss you off and that was that. He would tackle you to the ground when you were outside, almost like a puppy trying to initiate playtime. He'd send you rolling into dirt, rocks, and snow—showing no interest in assisting you when you had to spend the next few hours picking dead bugs and bits of twigs from your hair. You couldn't be looking like some indecent pup when your owners came looking for you. You were raised better than that. You had a reputation and an image to uphold, and you were never one to disappoint.

And Price didn't do anything except watch with amusement as you were tormented left and right. Some handler he is.

It wasn't until the fourth week that things did began to take a turn.

There was still no word from Laswell about your owners. You'd almost thought that she'd forgotten about you, what with the radio silence regarding your situation and all.

It was a daily routine for you to wait at the front door—nose just inches away from the cold, dark wood in anticipation. It was as if you expected it to fly off the hinges and reveal your owners who you practically worshipped, arms open wide and ready to bring you back home.

You knew you'd be lucky to even get a reassuring head-pat if they found you, but the idea of their excitement at finally finding you was the one thing that kept putting you in front of that door every single morning.

Everyone noticed your behavior, but Ghost was the first to let it fully clock that even if you were in insufferable little hellion—you acted the way you did because that's what you were raised to recognize as the norm. You didn't act like this because you wanted to, you acted like this because it was expected of you, and any disconnection from these mannerisms likely resulted in punishment when you were younger.

He didn't really know what to do with that information, so he didn't do anything. — Laswell's visit the next weekend was unwarranted, but most certainly not unwelcomed.

"You still got that show dog with you, or did you leave the back door unlocked during bear season?" She asked, her stalwart tonality clashing with the joke she made.

"Rest assured, the lil' priss is alive and well, Kate," Price coolly responded as he swung his ax down onto an upright log—splitting it in half.

"Good."

"Any reason for the sudden concern, or are you just feelin' sweet today?" Price set up another log and lined up his ax.

"I found her owners."

The hatchet met the cutting stump with a deep 'thunk', the edge of the blade burying itself much further than it was intended to go.

"Really?"

Kate nodded.

"Hm. Well..." Price paused, giving the handle of the tool a harsh tug and dislodging it from the wood. "...That's good."

"I wouldn't speak so soon."

"Why's that?"

Kate extended her phone to him, where a gallery of photos was displayed on the screen. There were two people—a man and a woman—smiling brightly with a pampered pooch sitting in front of them, donning a blue ribbon, and a leather collar identical to yours.

Except, it wasn't you.

"This was from the pageant last week. The one she was supposed to compete in."

"So why isn't she?" Price inquired, scrolling through the photos and finding similar images from different angles.

"She didn't win first place in her last show." Kate took her phone back from Price. "They never told her that she lost. They just took a 'detour' on their way to the next pageant, and picked up their next dog after dropping her off on the shoulder a month ago."

"So they just..."

"Left her, yeah." Kate nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek. "So, her position here may be a little more permanent than we thought."

You were raised by your owners to be the embodiment of elegance. That meant no barking, no scratching, no bouts of energy—none of it. You were so used to this way of life, ignoring your instincts, that you never had the desire to do any of those things.

But when you found out about what your owners had done—

Oh, how you wanted to raise hell.

You weren't even meant to know yet. You were simply inside as you practically always were, sitting on the rug of the living room because Price still wouldn't let you sit on the couches. You had the remote in hand, volume turned down low and closed captioning on as not to alert Soap, who was just a couple rooms down the hall.

You technically weren't supposed to be messing with the television, but today was the date of the pageant you were supposed to be competing in—the one you were supposed to win—and like hell were you going to miss it. You had memorized the listing and channel of every broadcasting service that would be airing it ages ago.

So there you were, kneeling inches away from the TV with an anxious grasp on the remote and your tail nervously stiffened behind you.

You were checking out the competition, rolling your eyes at snooty faces you recognized, mumbling about how you would've presented that strut so much better had you been there. One could only imagine your confusion when you saw a new dog. A spry, sleek-coated Irish setter with a shockingly familiar handler guiding her along.

Your jaw dropped.

That was your handler.

"No!"

You didn't care about keeping the noise down anymore. You rose to your feet in a flash. That was Sergei. Handling another dog. But that didn't make any sense. Sergei only worked for your owners, and only presented you at pageants. Had your owners fired him? Surely not—you loved him! So then why was he handling this new dog?

And why was there a new dog at all? The participation slots were full. You should know, because you took the last one, and pageants didn't take understudies in the event that a dog didn't show up. If a dog wasn't there, then they weren't there. It just counted as a forfeit.

Still in shock, you raised your hand to clutch your proverbial pearls—but when your fingers met your neck, you became acutely aware of the similarities between what you felt, and what you were seeing on the screen.

Ruffles. Jewels. Lace. Leather.

She was wearing your fucking collar.

You didn't need to see Sergei walk the Setter up to your owners after the circuit to connect the dots—nor did you need to see them slip the blue ribbon over her head, hear your owners fabricate a tale about how you were so ashamed after winning silver that you couldn't bear to compete again, and selected Dolores to take your place, or even recall how they oh-so graciously let you out of the RV to let you "stretch your legs" only hours before Laswell found you on the road. It was clear as day.

There were so many urges bubbling within you. It was confusing and pissing you off. You wanted to yell. You wanted to break things. You wanted to unleash yourself.

And because your owners weren't here to drop a phonebook on your tail as a punishment—you did.

"You fucking bitch!"

The clasp of your collar flew off and landed somewhere in the room as you ripped it from your throat. Doing so fucking hurt, but you weren't going to bother being gentle with the accessory that keyed you as property of your traitorous owners.

Soap tumbled into the room, footfalls heavy and uncoordinated from having just been crudely awoken from a midday nap. He only caught a glimpse of you storming out the back door.

He rushed to follow, ready to pounce and bury his teeth into your neck and subdue you like he had in the past, because you weren't allowed to go outside without permission, nor without the Captain.

But he froze in his tracks when he saw you in the snow, having taken on your full canine physique and tearing into your collar—or what was left of it—with reckless abandon. Pearls and gems flew every which way as you bit down on the leather hard enough to make you gag, shaking it like it was small prey with the most vicious snarl he'd ever heard come out of you.

"Lass, what's—"

The collar went flying into the air, and landed a ways into the distance, among the trees that surrounded the clearing of the cabin. You were panting as if you had just run a marathon, body trembling as you stool still. Whether it was from the cold, adrenaline, or fury—he couldn't tell.

"They lied to me!" He heard you scream.

"Who lied t'ye, lassie?"

"They never entered me into the competition— they nev—" you cut yourself off with an enraged shriek. "They already had a replacement!"

Soap couldn't tell if you were talking to him or yourself.

You were out there for a while, howling with rage while Soap apprehensively stood a few paces behind you. Your animalistic war-cries were enough for Gaz to come bounding up the hill from the cabin's lay of snowy plains below, fully alert and looking around frantically to locate the source of distress—only to discover that you were the cause of your distress. Well, somewhat.

He wanted to feel satisfied and amused when Soap filled him in on what had happened, but he just couldn't. You, a sheltered cash cow from birth, had been thrown away and replaced for some trivial mistake that you had made in you last pageant—the only thing you were good at and good for just not being enough, when you lived to appease them.

He couldn't help but feel sorry for you.

You weren't having it, though.

"No! No, you shut up!" You clambered onto your feet, pointing a finger into his chest. He was about to snap back at you, but you spoke to quick for him to overlap.

"I don't need your damn pity. I need to be a dog."

He blinked, expression faltering.

"What?"

"My entire life—" you inhaled deeply through your mouth as you roughly wiped away streaks of tears "—I have been nothing but a pretty bitch that pays the bills, and if they won't even let me have that—then it ends now."

They both stand silently, waiting for you to continue.

"Teach me how to be a dog."

—

The 141 were made up of honest men—a rare commodity in this day and age. No matter how you felt about something, you always knew the truth, and none of them hid anything about themselves unless absolutely necessary. Unfortunately for you, that mostly just entailed them openly voicing how annoying they thought you were, or how you wouldn't last a day in the wild—but they stood by their word in the following weeks, re-training you to embrace your canine urges.

It started with a bath, oddly enough. You figured the first thing they'd have you do was dive headfirst into a pile of mud, but instead you sat calmly in the tub as Price rinsed out the shampoo with the handheld showerhead.

"Have to say, you take to bathin' much better than any of my boys."

You huffed with an indifferent grumble. As a human, Price couldn't understand you in your canine form, but he'd been around hybrids long enough to get a general idea of what they try to get across. Grooming days were part of your routine. Of course you loved baths.

Sure, this tub wasn't as luxurious as the small pools your personal groomer used to lather you up in, nor did it have the elaborate tools to ensure that your coat absorbed all the nurturing properties of your expensive shampoos—but those fancy trinkets could be bought by anyone lucrative enough. Not everybody could say they had John Price's large, calloused hands scrubbing dog shampoo into their fur.

"I'm sure this isn't the salon-quality product you're used to," he mentioned as the soap foamed and bubbled up under his touch, "but it does the job. 'Fraid you won't be seein' much of name brands anymore, though."

You were apprehensive when he approached you with shears after towel-drying you off, never having anyone but Sergei trim the ends of your coat before. Your past owners liked to keep your fur long and shiny, but even you knew that such a high-maintenance coat wouldn't survive out here, so to the scissors it went.

"Don't you worry, dove," he coaxed. "Just a little off the top, yeah?"

It was odd, seeing yourself in the mirror after the chop. Price clearly knew what he was doing. You should've known from the start that he was practiced with shears, if Soap's well-tapered coat was anything to go by. He had kept some of the original length around your legs and tail, but did away with the longer areas at your neck, chest, cheeks, and underbelly.

You stared at your reflection, head tilting this way and that as you inspected your new appearance. You were still plenty fluffy with rich fur—but you didn't have those mane-like tresses that required extensive combing and conditioning to keep healthy. Less of you was hidden by your fur, and you came to notice just how lacking in muscle you really were. You'd work on that with the 141 another time, you were sure.

You didn't look like a pampered show dog anymore. You were just… a dog.

It didn't bother you as much as you thought it would.

"How'd I do?" Price smiled down at you, letting a big hand ruffle your head—ears flopping from side to side with the action. You chuffed shortly through your throat, an unsure vocalization before barking at the mirror with your tail wagging.

He laughed in that deep, rumbling fashion, "Make sure to leave five stars."

—

Next was going to be getting you to give chase and sink your teeth into something with a beating heart, but when Soap watched you stiffly trot up to the back door with your neck and ears vertical, and your snout parallel to the ground—he realized that there was much more work to be done here before he sent you off into the neck of the woods. He could leave hunting up for someone else to take care of later.

"Bonnie… what in God's name are ye dooin'?"

"I—" You cut yourself off to turn and glare at him. "I'm walking, jackass. What else?"

Soap wouldn't be caught dead admitting it aloud, but he loved the new attitude you gave him. It was still pretty much the same you would give him before, but it came off in different waves. Your voice wasn't as high-pitched, your vocabulary was less prestigious and haughty, and your responses weren't so long-winded (they always included you rambling about how your "elite" mannerisms were the result of a proper, exquisite lifestyle that Soap was too roguish and brash to ever qualify for). Your mouthy habits now consisted of sass and snark he was used to from the military, and was quite fond of with his pack.

"Ye call tha' walkin'?" He practically gawked at you, half-joking. "Nah, lass. Change of plans. Gonna teach ye how t' strut proper."

So that's how you found yourself trudging through icy mud, body trembling as you braved the chilly winds that flew over the marsh Soap had dragged you down to. You yapped in disgust as a fish swam over your paw.

"Och, haud yer weesht, hen." Soap crowed from a grassy patch of the wetlands. "Keep yer head on snug. 'S no more than a wee minnow. Willnae bite ye, ah swear."

You turned to sneer at him, ears laid flat against your head as you squinted. It turned into an eyeroll when he split his mouth into a cheeky grin.

You were trying your best not to complain. You really were. You wanted to be a dog, and if this is what it took, then so be it. Even if it meant your fur was wet up to your knees and elbows.

"Price isn't gonna be happy, you know," you barked over the howling wind.

Soap leapt from one patch to the neighboring one. "On the contrary, I think he'll be right chuffed t' see ye gettin' yer paws dirty."

"After he just washed me?"

"Especially after he just washed ya. Shows 'im that ye aren't afraid of keepin' an image anymore."

Your tongue darted out to wet your nose as you contemplated his words. The breeze was drying.

"Okay, but… why are we out here specifically?"

Soap smiled and wordlessly leapt into the marsh with you—no care for his white coat at all—making you rear your head back as the murky water splashed too close to your face for comfort.

"Glad y' asked," he boomed, the volume unnecessary with how much closer he was to you now. "Y' ever seen a dog walk normally with slippers on?"

The question caught you off guard.

"I—" you blinked at him "…no?"

"Exactly. The water has the same effect. Weighs ye down, forces you to do what's comfortable." He demonstrated what he meant as he spoke by marching through the water, bringing each paw above the surface to avoid the resistance of the liquid when he stretched it forward to take a step. He stopped to face you.

"Go on, then," he urged, "give it a try."

The sensation was awkward and disorienting when you tried to walk. Your body was moving faster than the water would allow, and your feet couldn't match the pace you demanded of them—resulting in you tripping over nothing but sheer inertia, and falling into the foggy marsh.

Soap laughed above you as you stood up—water dripping from every part of you but your head and back.

"See what I mean? You cannae be marchin' tha' fancy canter o' yours when yer up to yer knees. 'S no' a parade, lassie. Here—just follow my lead. You'll be canterin' in no time."

—

It took near to a week's worth of treading the marsh for Soap to see genuine improvement in your gait, and a couple days more of sprinting across acres of land for him to be satisfied enough with his work. Price, as you expected, wasn't super jovial to see your freshly-washed coat dripping with mud the first time around, but it wasn't anything that a a hose-down outside the cabin couldn't take care of.

You learned how to avoid getting caught on your own feet as you got better at running, and as a result, had significantly less incidents that left you wet and huffy—but today, Soap decided he was in the mood to play, and tackled you into the wetlands like the overgrown teenager he was. It ended with both of you sopping wet and out of breath.

Ghost had hauled you off of him with his maw latched onto your scruff as you rolled around in the mud with Soap's ear between your teeth. He was huffily growling that Gaz needed you back at the cabin, and snapping his jaws at Soap when the Rough Collie felt ballsy enough to playfully nip at his haunches like the sheepdog he was—speeding off before Ghost could get the bright idea of pursuing him.

You found Gaz perched on top of the cellar doors on the side of the cabin—a dark, warm spot that got direct sunlight for every waking hour of the day. You could always count on him being there.

His eyes snapped open when he heard your noisy footsteps crunching through the snow.

"There you are," he huffed impatiently. "It's about time."

You returned his attitude with equal lackluster vigor, "You could've let me know you were looking for me."

"Sent Ghost to fetch you."

"Too proud to do it yourself?"

The Doberman slid off the wooden basement doors, paws landing on the snow with an imperceptible crunch. "If I switch focus, I'll loose the trail," he bluntly stated before starting into the mouth of the forest.

These men and their need to answer in riddles. "What?" You asked in exasperated confusion.

"You hungry?"

You sighed. And so the puzzle continues.

"What are you yapping about?"

He once again ignored your question and continued talking, "Hungry or not, I'm locked on to a scent right now and you need to practice hunting."

Oh. So that's what this was about.

"I thought Ghost would be the one to teach me to hunt."

"You want him out here instead?"

"No."

Gaz scoffed out a laugh at your snark, "Don't complain, then."

"I'm not," you defended, "I just… figured he was more suited for this."

"Yeah?" Gaz hopped onto a fallen tree that blocked his path and jumped down just as quickly. "And somehow I'm not?"

You opted to crawl under the log. "No, that not what I—"

"Ah, hush. Just taking the piss." His trotting gait slowed to a strut as you caught up to his side. "I get what you mean. Simon's a big dog, and an even bigger lad. Can't really picture him doing much else, can you?"

You gave it a moment of thought before agreeing, "Yeah… no, I really can't."

"I don't blame you, but don't doubt me, either. I was a guard dog back in my service days. Hunting comes naturally."

You applied what Soap taught you as Gaz's speed picked up again, trying to match his pace. "Well, it doesn't for me," you reminded caustically, "so what am I gonna do here?"

Gaz's docked tail twitched as he nosed you in a new direction. The top of his snout came into contact with the right side of your skull and he jutted his head forward, nudging your orientation westwards. You grumbled in discontent as the gesture caught you off guard, and threatened to knock you over. You stumbled to the side—in a lowered stance as your legs splayed out more to catch yourself—and sneered up at Gaz before trying to nip at his side. He easily shifted out of your reach, which made you more irritated than you already were.

"Stop that," he gruffed. "Just come here."

You wanted to ignore him and pettily plop yourself onto the snow you stood over, but you noticed that Gaz had stopped right in front of a large bush decorated with berries a few yards ahead.

"What's this?" You asked, regaining your balance.

"Huckleberry, originally, but there's mistletoe in there. Parasitic plant… don't eat it," he warned, as if you were actually planning on doing that. He urged you forward with another nudge. "Take a sniff. Really try to pay attention to what sets it apart from other smells."

Dubiously, you did as instructed; extending your neck to brush your nose with the flora. It took a moment for your nose to recognize and separate the fragrances, but as soon as you could clearly pinpoint the sweetness of the huckleberry and the bitter poison of the mistletoe—and hone in on the scent to lead you to other plants with the same arrangements—Gaz introduced you to various other scents and repeated the process.

By the the time that the next twenty minutes had passed, you were also able to identify buttercups, pine needles, shedded fur, a quail corpse, and Ghost's territorial markers. You were satisfied enough to call it a day, but Gaz apparently had other plans.

"Stop," he suddenly commanded, his voice hushed and tentative. The suddenness of it was enough to make you obey. He crouched down low until he laid on the bank, and you followed suit. "Look."

Curious, you lifted your head to see what had demanded such stealth from him, and felt your ears perk up upon seeing a white hare just a little ways off.

"Hungry yet?"

Instinctively, your tongue laved over your chops at the prospect of a meal. Soap's energetic roughhousing was a taxing endeavor to participate in.

"Yeah."

Gaz scooted back a bit to let you take the lead. "Then it's yours. You know what to do?"

You were half-listening. "Mhm. Yeah, of course."

"Show me."

Rising from the ground slightly, you paid mind to your pose as you kept your nose low enough to the ground to pick up on its most recent scent trail—just like Gaz taught you. You missed the way he spared a quick side-eye glance to you before doing a double-take.

"You keep that stance, and a lot of critters around here are gonna get the wrong idea," he remarked warningly—but his quieted voice had a faint distinction of amusement to it.

You didn't understand what he meant until you felt a pair of hands reaching to grab your hips and lower them to the proper crouching stance, bringing your ass down so you weren't presenting your doggish cunt to the world.

"The mud does good to hide your scent, but that'll only do so much if you give yourself away like that."

You could hear the double-entendre in the way he spoke, clearly not trying to be subtle, but you opted to ignore it plus—the heat crawling up your neck—regardless. He left a firm pat to your haunches before moving back and giving you the green light to strike.

"Impress me."

—

You had improved plenty over the past few weeks with the guidance of both Soap and Gaz—regularly having races and hunting sessions until your needs were sated. Price was a little more approving of you returning caked in mud, but only when you had dried blood crusting around your mouth on that first successful hunting session with Gaz. He especially loved it when you brought something back for him, whether it be a poor squirrel or the body of a rabbit. No matter what it was, he was there to praise your success and drag his nails through your fur appreciatively. He congratulated Gaz frequently for doing so well with teaching you.

The brunt of winter was quickly approaching, and with it came flurries and changes. Changes that occupied every edge and valley of your mind, turning your morals on their heads and skewing every coherent thought you managed to procure.

You had yet to know if Ghost planned to teach you something, but if you were being honest, you couldn't care less about what you were supposed to learn now. Not when you were hiding in a corner of the old, worn down sheep stable not too far from the marsh where Soap taught you how to run, staring at the phallic-shaped icicle hanging from the windowsill and contemplating whether or not frostbite was worth a sense of relief.

You see, here—you don't sterilize hybrids. It's unethical and outlawed in most countries. So, naturally, you weren't spayed, and naturally—

You went into heat.

Now, you knew it was inevitable. Your heat was completely unavoidable, just a thing of nature—but that didn't mean you dreaded it any less.

So that's why you buried yourself in clumps of aging straw in the hayloft, internal temperature far too high to be bothered by the biting winds that nipped at your exposure.

In the past, your heats were managed with toys, medications, hormone-balancing supplements, and being locked in your room for days on end.

This was your first heat away from your owners. This was your first heat without anything to ease or shorten the experience, and being so scared about what you could potentially do during the blindness of your desperation—you ran for the hills at the first sign of an episode.

You were still well within tracking distance, not wanting to get lost and become unrecoverable, but you hoped it was far away enough for the men to get the hint that you needed to be alone.

Now, was there any actual plan? Absolutely not. You had no provisions, no protection against the elements, and you were fully aware that a heat without any external aids could last over a week. In the moment you fled, the only thing on your mind was being a safe distance away from any opportunity to make a mistake.

And as you were now, hands trembling far too much to get a proper focus on your clit and whining embarrassingly loud—your body was cursing you for doing such a thing, but your dignity was gratefully intact.

"Bonnie!"

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

You couldn't bite back your whimpering keens, but rolled over onto your stomach to bury your noises into the scratchy hay.

"Bonnie," Soap called once more, "you in here?"

You couldn't reply through your breathless pants.

"Price is askin' fer ye, lassie," his voice echoed around the open space of the barn. "Didn't like ye pullin' tha' stunt n' takin' off, y'ken."

When there was still no reply, Soap took the liberty of trailing your scent with his nose—clambering his way up the ladder when your fragrance grew stronger. The heady weight of your overpowering scent punched him in the face once he reached the hayloft.

"Where'd y— fuckin' Criosd, thoir dhomh neart."

His hips bucked forward at the smell of you, popping a stiffie in mere seconds and greedily grinding the tent in his trousers against the rung of the ladder that was level with his groin.

"Oh, bonnie— 's this why y' scampered off?"

He found himself crawling over to your prone form, beginning to shake with the restraint he was exercising. Your following whine was enough to jut his pelvis forward again—the urge so demanding that his clothed manhood sought out a tight warmth that wasn't even there, and thrust down onto the wooden planks. He paused for a moment as his body worked on its own volition, rutting against the floor a for a bit until he could reign himself in again.

"You should've just told us, baby," he cooed. "We'd be happy to help ye."

Your body registered him as not your semi-friendly acquaintance-somewhat-past rival-packmate, but as someone capable of providing you with a knot, and your back involuntarily arched at the sound of his voice approaching from behind—exposing your pink, sobbing pussy to him, and her slick tears that coated the entirety of your inner thighs and ass.

Soap couldn't even think to stop himself before he dove headfirst into your slippery cunt, his sloppy tongue immediately reaching into your channel and ladling your bittersweet grool into his mouth—swallowing you in mouthfuls and slurping you up like a thick smoothie.

Your pleading moans pierced the air, and you drove your hips back into Soap's face—to which he pressed forward even firmer and gripped the sides of your upper thighs with a painfully horny grip, using his thumbs to split you apart further and rub harshly at your red, neglected, and engorged clit.

"Hidin' out here," he began after pulling away to catch his breath, seamlessly replacing his tongue with his middle and ring finger, "ain't th' way t' handle this, bonnie."

He grinned down at you as he humped the back of your thigh, fingers pumping into you with intensity and speed as he honed in on your g-spot.

"Y' gotta embrace every instinct, hen." — Dogs were animals. By dictionary definition, they were just another subspecies occupying the Animalia kingdom. And animals, in their barest form, were just a representation of the most basic needs that presented themselves in every breathing individual.

So with learning to be a dog—you had to learn to submit to your body's every whim.

Now was as good a time as any for Ghost to pitch in on training sessions.

After Soap had ripped an orgasm from you with deft fingers, he took you from the hayloft and left a squirt-soaked pile of hay in your wake. Now back at the cabin with the Scot laying back on Price's bed after he graciously pumped his semen into you three times over, he held you full-nelson style for his best bud while Gaz relentlessly hammered his hips into yours in the same manner he had been for the past ten minutes. You came time after time again—once achieving several climaxes in the span of a minute—but even with the amount of orgasms you had been given, your body only cried out for another knot, so you were far from finished.

Your head rolled back as his girthy cock pummeled your sensitive walls, but the Doberman forced your head back up with a grip on your jaw—patting your cheek twice before he and Soap simultaneously dived down to your neck and attacked the sides of your throat.

Even as Gaz tossed his head back with a throaty groan and emptied himself inside you, he didn't stop pulsing into you with the shallow thrusts that he was able to manage with the expansion of his knot.

The entire time, he and Soap fed praises and croons into your ears, remarking how perfect you were for them, how gorgeous you looked while so cockdrunk and needing.

It was only after two more generous helpings of Gaz's sperm did his knot deflate enough for him to slip out and roll next to Soap—but you still only had enough clarity to recognize Price's large, steady hands wiping your hair from your face. Being laid down on your stomach near the foot of the bed by your prior partner, you were eye-level with his bulge, and immediately took advantage of the angle.

"Hey— woah, there!" Price grunted when you shot forward to bury your nose into his loins, tongue darting out to simply mouth at whatever was available to you. He fisted your hair and pulled you away from his pants, leaning down to plant a sweet kiss onto your forehead. "I'm flattered, but I'm just a man. I can't give you what you need right now. Maybe another time, okay? Just be a good girl for my boys right now, love."

You could only whine desperately in response—mind still too scrambled to come up with words yet. Price pulled away, and called back to another, unseen individual in the room.

"Ghost. Come n' eat."

Everything between Ghost getting on the bed and tilting your hips up to mount you from behind was a blur, but you could really only focus on how this was the first time that Ghost was touching you properly. It turned you on more than it should've.

"So you wanna be a real dog, 's that right?"

His gravelly, rumbling rasp caught you off guard, but you managed to scrawl out a whimper that resembled "yes" as his brutish cockhead grazed over the folds of your weeping pussy.

"Well, real dogs don't go hidin' away from their pack when their cunt's cryin' out for a knot."

His tone turned condescending as he wound a fist in your hair, tip nudging your slick, used entrance.

"They come crawlin' to 'em on all fours, put that tight little pussy on display, and beg to be stuffed."

He punctuated his accusation with the full sheathing of his breathtakingly dense cock into your tight snatch—the wind being punched from your lungs as you practically felt his tip emerging from your throat.

"You say you're not a mutt, but look at you now; a victim to your instincts, just like any other bitch." — The room is filled with soft moans in the early morning, a lazy Sunday never being lazier as Price sweetly pumps his thick cock into the welcoming heat of your cunt in a spooning position.

The boys have long-since departed for their routine dawn patrol, but the soft-hearted Captain provided a comforting presence as he brought you gentle pleasure—his hand smoothing over the plump swell of your gorgeously rotund stomach; brimming with the promise of a healthy, capable litter of pups in the near future.

"Y'know," you spoke, voice light and airy as John's hand traveled further south to gingerly swipe at your clitoris, "if I'd known it'd take getting knocked up to be allowed in your bed—I'd have bent over for you lot much sooner."

He languidly laughed with you, pressing his lips to the space of skin beneath your ear in tender adoration.

"Every bed in this cabin will be forever available to you. I don't care which you choose in the night—so long as you're here with us, there's nowhere else I'd rather you be."

"Can't think of anywhere better, Captain."

468 notes · View notes

snakeredbirdbatkatana · 4 months

Text

How Tim Drake stole the show and lost millions for a good cause..... aka getting laid

Part 1

Now Bruce would like to say he knows his sons pretty well, even as he hears Alfred's voice disagreeing.

He didn't partically want to go to this gala but with Jason returning from the dead formally, and all of his children being in Gotham this was a perfect opportunity to show the Wayne family in all their glory.

As he fixes Damian's bow tie ignoring the reporters vying for his attention.

He hears a gasp.

Before swiftly as if summoned by a light the swarm of reporters leave running toward whoever just appeared.

Pulling up in a car that Bruce couldn't even name if he tried but he is a hundred percent sure isn't aloud on the god damn road.

His third youngest boy who as planned was meeting them here.

Unexpectedly has his arm wrapped around Connor Kent.

Who is wearing a blood red suit, matching perfectly with Tim's all black, but most shocking other than the multi-million dollar car if Jason's hyperventilating can be believed is the blood red diamond in Kent's ear that he's a hundred percent sure cost eight million fucking dollars.

Which was made aware by Selina who was talking about said gem because she was hoping to steal it before it was purchased by a buyer she couldn't track which is an impressive feat which is now explained by the fact that the only one person is better at hiding than a cat and that will always be a bat.

Walking in with Rob's arm around his waist after a joyride straight out of a movie he can't help but feel like he's flying and considering he's Superboy that a feat.

"Feeling ok, I know this can be a lot my moon?" Everytime Tim uses that godamn nickname he can't stop the blush it's embarrassing and sweet and flat out insane.

"I'm fine you worrywart, seriously Sunshine", hesitating "So far this is the best night of my life I'm on your arm Tim now show me off I was promised that I would get to see Rich Timmy in all his glory."

He smirks grabbing a thing of champagne from a passing waiter who looks terrified.

"Unless Red your pussing out on me?"

Tim's face twitches a look crossing his face before smoothing out into what Kon can only call his Red Robin smirk deadly, captivating, and always makes Kon a little wet.

"No, after all your on the arm of the richest man in here let me show you what that means."

#tim drake #batfamily #Timkon #Tim is throwing his money and dick around #Bamf Tim #sugar baby kon #this is a series #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batfam #bamf batfamily #bamf tim drake #sugar daddy Tim drake #next part coming soon #this was a draft #alfred pennyworth

224 notes · View notes

mastermindmiko · 8 months

Text

Parties

Pairing: Sirius Black + reader

Word count: 1296 (I think I'm really loving these short and fluffy one shots)

Summary: You and Sirius fool around (not sexually) at a pureblood party

Warnings: light and funny hits and smacks, and nothing else I believe but lmk if you notice anything I didn't

Hey! If you think this didn't completely suck, feel free to check out my masterlist.

"On a scale of one to ten, how likely is it that one of the dads is going to get drunk and go off the hook?"

"Is there a number above ten that I can use?"

"No."

"Then ten, like you even have to ask." I reply with a grin at the absurd question. Every time there's a party one of the dads get drunk and off the hook, last time it was Avery Sr. His wife had to pull him off the table. I ask, "The question isn't if, it's who."

"Avery." Sirius replies looking at the man, smiling, no doubt picturing his red face wife trying to pull him down the table where he's swinging his tie on. I scoff, "Two times in a row? No way. I think Mrs. Avery has him drinking apple juice tonight."

"Well then who do you think it is?" Sirius asks, and I hum. I look around the room, looking for the older men. Mulciber has been drinking a lot tonight, but he's talking to Malfoy which means business so no way it's him. Then I hit the jackpot. I grin and say, "Your father."

"My father? No way, he's never gone crazy ever." Sirius scoffs and leans back in his chair. I lean closer to his side and start to explain as I fix my eyes to Mr. Black. I explain, "He's gone flushed, and he's not talking anymore which means that he knows that he's going to slur on his words, and he's already taken off his jacket."

"I think you're an idiot and that it's going to be Nott." Sirius says, and I punch him in the arm for calling me and idiot, then shake my head. I tut, "I don't think so-" I say in a sing-songy voice, then continue, "He holds his alcohol well."

"No, he doesn't. A few years ago, he was made a mess." Sirius says, but I still don't agree. I grab my drink from the table, and take a tiny sip before saying, "That was because he had signed the divorce papers from his first wife that morning, other wise he never would have drank so much."

"I still think he's a better guess than my father." Sirius says, rolling his eyes. He hates talking about his father, and he is absolutely right, he's a horrible man. I fold my arms and then suggest, "Alright, what do you want to bet on- and not money, merlin knows we both have enough of that already."

Sirius hums in thought, as he thinks of ideas. One of the perks of being in a pureblood family is the insane amount of money carried from one generation to another, one of the faults, the tedious parties, Sirius makes them better though. He clicks his fingers and I can almost see a light bulb go off in his head. He starts, "A kiss-"

"I already give you those-"

"And a date where I control everything." Sirius grins, and I groan, and cover my face with my hands. I groan, "But you're going to pick a shit place, like madam puddifoot's or something other absurd café."

"If you're scared that you'll lose, I can change it." Sirius taunts, and I look back at Mr. Black and he's already loosening his tie. I grin then hold out my hand to him. I say, "You're on."

Sirius takes my hand, shakes it one time with a firm grip, then hauls me close to him to give me a kiss on the cheek. I yelp, and then put my hand on his thigh to stabilize me enough to go back to sitting properly in my seat. I smack his thigh. Merlin knows what my mother would've done if she saw that.

"And if I win, I want full control over your hair for a month." I say, and watch that smirk of his fade away instantly. He grabs his hair, desperately and shakes his head. He says, "No way, that's same value as one date."

"If you're scared that you'll lose, I can change it." I say in a deeper voice, imitating him and saying his exact words. He gives me a glare, but folds his arms and pouts in his seat. I chuckle at his reaction.

The music is quiet, it's only the voices of chatter that really fill up the room. I look all around the room and notice that Regulus is with one of his friends chatting about something, I recognize the friend as Evan Rosier. Sirius taps my shoulder to interrupt my train of thought.

"Wanna get out of here?" He asks, and he already knows my answer because I soon as I say yes, he's already got my hand in his hand. He stands up, and we look around each of us making sure that none of our family members can see us.

Sirius leads me out of the room and into a corridor. This is Nott Sr.'s house, we knew only bits of it. We get out of the room, and Sirius presses me against on of the walls. He kisses me feverishly and I return it with a smile. His hands caress my waist and they go up and down and up and down, driving me insane.

"so this is why you wanted to get out." I tease, and he goes back to kissing me in seconds. I can't say I'm really complaining though. He breaths out in between kisses, "Can't blame me for wanting to spend time with you."

We part for some much needed air and Sirius looks around. He sees the closest door and he goes towards it, pulling me with him. He says, "Now, what could this be? A bedroom maybe?"

He opens the door and we're meet with the clatter of pots and pains and tiny house elves moving around everywhere, trying to get dinner ready. Sirius sighs in disappointment, and he turns to leave, but I break free of his grip when I see..."Scones!"

I trail towards them and grab a few off of one of the plates that the house elves were carrying. I shoved one in my mouth, and it tasted good. Sirius grabbed one from my hands and started eating it himself. I frowned at him and his reply was poking a tongue out at me.

I finish my scone and maybe two more, then I go to sit on one of the chairs. Sirius pouts when he notices there's no chairs. He grabs me, and lifts me up. I start screaming, "Sirius Orion Black, you better put me down right now. You babbling, bumbling, baboon-"

"You're the only good thing my parents have ever done for me, and quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me." Sirius says in one breath to shut me up. He always does this, randomly he just spills out bursts of emotion. He feels them at random times, but Sirius has never been good at expressing emotions, so I appreciate them when they come.

He sits down and puts me on his lap. I smile at his words and lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Sirius parts abruptly, "Did you just call me a baboon?"

"Oh no, we need some remedies, quickly!" One of the house elves, enter quickly into the room, and the rest of them bustle quickly trying to find a remedy for whomever just got severely drunk out there. Another house elf shouts, "Who was it this time?"

"Mr. Black."

"Yes!" I shout in triumph and get off of Sirius' lap to preform a victory dance. I clap and dance around, and I point at him and grin, "Get ready to have your hair green!"

"No!"

an: maybe I am starting this marauders era for me, I'm really enjoying it too. I think I should keep writing about them for a while + Reggie of course

184 notes · View notes

tleeaves · 2 months

Text

Folks going "WHAT they made a show about the Fallout franchise?? I've been hearing people say Bethesda messed it up, but I haven't watched it myself, so I'm going to trust the word of other people -- some of which also haven't finished watching it" is driving me insane.

Being a hard core fan of something obviously brings with it a lot of passionate feelings when adaptations come into play. Of course, there's going to be people going "but in 8 episodes of the first ever season they made, they didn't explore Theme C or D, didn't introduce factions E and F and G, and because the source company is notorious for its scams, we and everyone else who's a TRUE fan should hate it".

The Amazon Original series Fallout follows the videogame franchise of the same name. It is a labour of love and you can tell by the attention to detail, the writing, the sets, and YES THE THEMES ARGUE WITH THE WALL. It's clearly fan service. I mean, the very characterisation of Lucy is a deadringer for someone playing a Fallout game for the first time. She embodies the innocent player whose expectations drastically change in a game that breaks your heart over and over again. Of course, she's also the vessel through which we explore a lot of themes, but I'll get to that.

There're some folks arguing that the show retcons the games, and I gotta say... for a website practically built on fandom culture, why are we so violently against the idea of someone basing an adaptation on a franchise that so easily lends itself to new and interesting interpretations? But to be frank, a lot of what AO's Fallout is not that new. We have: naive Vault dweller, sexy traumatised ghoul that people who aren't cowards will thirst over, and pathetic guy from a militaristic faction. We also have: total atomic annihilation, and literally in-world references to the games' lore and worldbuilding constantly (the way I was shaking my sister over seeing Grognark the Barbarian, Sugar Bombs, Cram, Stimpaks, and bags of RadAway was ridiculous). Oh, and the Red Rocket?? Best pal Dogmeat? I'm definitely outing myself as specifically a Fallout 4 player, but that's not the point you should be taking away from this.

The details, the references, and the new characters -- this show is practically SCREAMING "hey look, we did this for the fans, we hope you love it as much as we do". Who cares that the characters are new, they still hold the essence of ones we used to know! And they're still interesting, so goddamn bloody interesting. Their arcs mean so much to the story, and they're told in a genuinely intriguing way. This isn't just any videogame adaptation, this was gold. This sits near Netflix's Arcane: League of Legends level in videogame adaptation. Both series create new plots out of familiar worlds.

Of course, those who've done the work have already figured out AO's Fallout is not a retcon anyway. But even if it was, that shouldn't take away from the fact that this show is actually good. Not even just good, it's great.

Were some references a little shoe-horned in to the themes by the end of the show, such as with "War never changes"? Yes, I thought so. But I love how even with a new plot and characters, they're actually still exploring the same themes and staying true to the games. I've seen folks argue otherwise, but I truly disagree. The way capitalism poisons our world, represented primarily through The American Dream and the atomic age of the 45-50s that promoted the nuclear family dynamic -- it's there. If you think it's glorifying it by leaning so heavily into in the adaptation, I feel like you're not seeing it from the right angle. It's like saying Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck glorifies the American Dream, when both this book and the Fallout franchise are criticisms of it. If you think about it, the post-apocalyptic world of Fallout is a graveyard to the American Dream. This criticism comes from the plots that are built into every Fallout story that I know of. The Vaults are literally constructed to be their own horror story just by their mere existence, what they stand for, what happens in each of them. The whole entire show is about the preservation of the wrong things leading to fucked up worlds and people. The missions of the Vaults are time and again proven to be fruitless, unethical, plain wrong. Lucy is our brainwashed character who believed in the veritable cult she lived in before she found out the truth.

So then consider the Brotherhood of Steel. I really don't think it exists in the story to glorify the military. We see just how much the Brotherhood has brainwashed people like Max (also, anything ominously named something like "the Brotherhood" should raise eyebrows). Personally, I don't like Max, but I am intrigued by his characterisation. I thought the end of his arc was rushed the way he "came good" basically, but [SPOILERS] having him embraced as a knight in the Brotherhood at the end against his will -- finally getting something he always wanted -- and him grimly accepting it from all that we can tell? Him having that destiny forced upon him now that he's swaying? After he defected? If his storyline is meant to be a tragedy, it wouldn't surprise me, because Fallout is rife with tragedies anyway. And a tragedy would also be a criticism of the military. That's what Max's entire arc is. It goes from the microcosm focusing on the cycle of bullying between soldiers to the macro-environment where Max is being forced to continue a cycle of violence against humanity he doesn't want to anymore because a world driven to extremes forces him to choose it to survive (not to mention what a cult and no family would do to his psyche). Let's not forget what the Brotherhood's rules are: humankind is supreme. Mutants, ghouls, synths, and robots are abominations to be hated and destroyed. If you can't draw the parallels to the real world, you need to retake history and literature classes. The Brotherhood is also about preserving the wrong things, like the Vaults (like the Enclave, really). They just came about through different method. The Enclave is capitalism and twisted greed in a world where money barely exists anymore. The Brotherhood is, well, fascism plain and simple.

Are these the only factions in the Fallout franchise? Hell no. But if you're mad about that -- that they're the main ones explored, apart from the NCR -- I think you're missing the point. These themes, these reminders, are highly relevant in the current climate. In fact, I almost think they always will be relevant unless we undergo drastic change. On the surface-level, Fallout seems like the American ideal complete with guns blazing that guys in their basements jerk off to. Under that surface, is a mind-fuck story about almost the entire opposite: it's a deconstruction of American ideals that are held so closely by some, and the way that key notion of freedom gets twisted, and you're shooting a guy in-game because it's more merciful than what the world had in store for him.

I mean, the ghoul's a fucking cowboy from the wild west character he used to play in Hollywood glam and his wife was one of the people who helped blow up America in the name of capitalism and "peace". There are so many layers of this to explore, I'd need several days to try and keep track and go through it all.

The Amazon Prime show is a testament to the Fallout franchise. The message, the themes? They were not messed up or muddled or anything of the sort, in my opinion.

As for Todd Howard, that Bethesda guy, I'm sure there's perfectly valid reasons to hate him. I mean, I've hated people for a lot less valid reasons, and that's valid. We all got our feelings. But the show is about more than just him. My advice is to keep that in mind when you're judging it.

128 notes · View notes

weird-is-life · 8 months

Note

Can I request an imagine with either hotch or spencer where reader either works a lot or is in over her head in college? I’m working 7 days a week right now and I could really use some criminal minds boys to comfort me

Hii lovely, ty for this request. I hope this is okay and that you take some time for yourself🥰warnings: angsty, fluff, pet names, mention of dinner? (1k)

Your work is tough and lately, it has been killing you. But for the last few days it's been a literal hell. You've gotten insane amount of work to get done and you didn't even know where to start.

You can't even stay at work longer, because you need to pick up Jack from school, since Aaron has been gone the whole week too. So your only option has been to take the work with you home.

Which you do even today. A big pile of papers is sitting on the table, waiting for you as you prepare the dinner. It's Friday night, so you stay up with Jack to watch a movie after the dinner. You snuggle on the couch until he can no longer keep his eyes open and move him to his bed.

And then you take the haunting pile of papers on the couch with a sigh. Aaron let you know, that he should be home late at night, so you want to get the work done before he arrives.

You somehow underestimated how much work you've actually taken home with you, because you are not even halfway through it, when you hear the door open.

You get up immediately and go greet Aaron with a tired smile. You hug him, giving him no time to react any other way, his only choice is to hug you back.

"Hi," you murmur into his chest, you didn't even realise how much more you missed him then usual until now.

"Hi, sweetheart," he says softly, his voice equally as exhausted as yours," what are doing up?"

"I was waiting for you," you say even if the answer is only half true. Aaron starts to slowly move towards the living room.

"You shouldn't have, it's almost 2 am-" he suddenly stops talking, he goes very still.

You look up at him and follow his gaze. His eyes are wide, but yours are way wider. The big mess of papers is spread all over the couch and the table. It has you embarrassed, cheeks going red.

"What's all this?" he blurts out, but it isn't an unkind question. There's concern all over his face. "Have you and Jack decided to redecorate our living room?" he tries to lighten the mood, when he sees you. You look at the papers in horror.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly and hurry to clean up the mess.

You are stressing over this small thing so much and it has Aaron very worried for you.

He stops your frantic cleaning by cupping your hands in his, "honey...,"he says, "what's wrong, huh? Tell me?" He pleads, his soft eyes on you. He needs to know why you are so anxious right now and he needs to find out how to fix it. Because he can't have his best girl feeling down.

You sigh, before answering," it's just...a lot now. I've got so much work that-that I don't even know what to do first," you voice is thick with frustration and unspilled tears, all the tension from the week coming to the surface," I've bringing the work home, too, working after Jack's gone to sleep. But it's still not enough, it just keep piling and piling. And today, I wanted to get it done before you came."

"W-which as you see I didn't," you sniffle a little, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, sweetheart," Aaron says quickly, " what is going on at the work? Why the hell do you have this much work suddenly?"

Hotch hates too see you this upset over work, he knows, that your work sucks, but it has never been this bed.

"I-I don't really know. I think, it's b-because a few people recently quit the job," you don't need to explain any further, you both know, it's because the work is a lot, even too much sometimes. " So most of us have more work. The boss even asked me to come in tomorrow."

You frown. And Hotch takes one look at you and knows, there's no way you'll be going to work tomorrow. You look like you have slept less than Aaron this week, which already says a lot, because Aaron barely slept at all.

"Why don't you go to the bedroom and change into something more comfy, we can put a movie on?" he suggests as he gently maneuvers you towards the bedroom.

You want to protest, but he doesn't let you, "you are clearly tired and overwhelmed, honey. You need to take a break or else you can get hurt," he gives you a serious look, it's a look that he sometimes uses to tell off Jack, stern but affectionate.

"How about we both take the weekend off too, hmm?" he asks.

"They won't let me-"

"Whatever, you'll call in sick," he says it so casually.

"B-but I can't, they could fire me," you try to reason.

"Then maybe you should quit, we both know, it's been on your mind for quite some time, sweetheart," if it was up to him, you wouldn't have to work at all, he earns enough money for the three of you. But he knows, you would never let him do that.

"Yes, but I don't know..." you would love to quit immediately, but where would you go? It's not that easy to find another job.

"I understand," he nods and he warmly strokes your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that escaped your eyes," we'll talk about it tomorrow, yeah?"

You nod and he kisses your temple tenderly, he ushers you away with the promise of being right behind you.

He cleans up the papers and hides them out of the sight, like one would with something very tempting.

And as he promised, he is in the bed, pulling you into his embrace in a matter of seconds. He keeps you in a tight hug, his big hands running up and down your back as the movie plays in the background.

But neither of you pay attention to it. Hotch is too busy with doting and loving on you, while you are too busy blushing and trying not to cry over how sweet and caring Aaron is.

It's safe to say, that you definitely won't be leaving Aaron's arms in the morning to go to work. Especially when Jack will be for 100 percent joining your cuddling session in the morning.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner

219 notes · View notes

kerubimcrepin · 2 months

Text

Dofus: The Production - reviewing the artbook

This post won't go too deep in detail, it's just my commentary on the artbook — but the next (or, well, one after the next), post will be me doing some actual research outside of it. I recommend you to buy the artbook, and go see its contents for yourself, if you're curious about it. (or download it. It's been scanned to hell and back...)

God, this makes me deranged and insane. Even being baby does not stop Kerubim from loving Joris's jokes... I'm insane...

This part of the artbook has always scared me because like... Does he kill people in Dofus 2, Tot?. Does he.?

Epic events is a funny way to refer to this movie's unending barrage of traumatic events, but man, we were kinda robbed of cool draconic winged Joris. That's sad.

I won't include too much art from the artbook if I can help it, but I wanted to report that this is a very good art and theres a lot of love and um and they love each other and um and [CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] ‘GOOD LORD!’ [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’ [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG… MY LEG…’

I wish I knew what the fuck Tot meant by this. However, knowing that Pupuce is Kerubim's pet, who just liked her owner's kid more than her owner, has fueled some of my headcanons for years and years:

This version of his armour matches the one we could see in the Dofus Manga. :)

I find it quite fascinating that at one point, it was considered for Julith to be an osamodas huppermage, considering it was theorized for some time that Joris might be an osamodas.

I wouldn't call her a tender mother, but eh. She's more of a... "very loving yet despaired mother who doesn't even know her son" mother. A "wants to get back the past which will never return to the point of putting her son into the torture nexus" mother. A "has love in her that is so mentally disturbed" mother. AND I LOVE HER FOR IT!!

I know that her being an alcoholic is a retcon that Dessous did, but its such a good one. I think it's a good show of her decade of slow slippage of sanity. Comic retcons win over Tot's ideas for all Joris-related media once again.

This post was made by "I love Kerubim's dead family from Dofus Heroes Kerubim and Bakara Alcoholism Lore from Dessous de Dofus" gang.

These two huppermages from the movie's concept art were reused in season 4 of Wakfu. Though it would be easier to say what in season 4 of Wakfu isn't reused stuff considering the "shoestring and a piece of chewed gum" budget it was made on...

God, him petting a pupuce is the most important part of the artbook, save for perhaps...

THE KHAN & THE RED-LIGHT DISTRICT & JORIS UNDERAGE DRINKING SCENE

The fact that this was cut is the biggest personal tragedy of my entire life, and I am NOT joking.

Apparently, in this tavern, we were supposed to learn more of his backstory, — like how his father was a gobbowler, but sadly (or happily, if you really hate Khan) it was cut.

But listen. Khan would go to some sexworkers to stare at them and do nothing. He's that much of a loser. He would take a 10yo as his drinking buddy.

This is where my headcanon that he buys Joris booze post-movie comes from, btw.

Compared to the movie's exaggerated visions of Kerubim crying, these images feel like something Joris would remember seeing in real life, something he'd want to avoid.

It feels more real, than just his panicked visions.

#moviehistory #ro liveblogs dofus #dofus #wakfu #krosmoz

60 notes · View notes

tinydefector · 2 months

Note

The Rung transfluid headcanon 😵‍💫 I already drink those daily 🤭

Could I offer up Sunder as being the new Monster Ultra flavor: Fantasy Ruby Red?

Oh the amount of headcannons I have over the transfluid atm is insane. I'm working on a Swerve fic for it atm. I wasn't actually expecting ,y silly shit post to get so much traction over the bots XD

So where I am in Australia energy drinks are limited in what you can find and today I'm in one of the cities so gonna see what lovelies I can find.

I had to go look up that monster and kinda went down a rabbit hole for Sunder and Rung

--------

Firstly. Rung

The first time Rung gets oral from you, it's just to blow off steam after a day, which just didn't turn out well. Man gets put through the ringer a lot with watching everyone else's mental health that sometimes he forgets to look after himself.

He's lent back in his chair venting softly one servo on the back of your head optics half lidded as he just watches, after all you had offered to help with stress relief after hearing a rumour from another human on board.

Rung is extremely high strung, so when your lips and fingers rotate between teasing his spike and pressing your face into his valve, he begins to figure something up.

It's only once he overloads and he's there optics closed debating getting up to clean up that he can still feel you eagerly cleaning up the mess.

And he just gets fixated on watching as you lick up his spike, transfluid covering your tongue and lips

He thinks its a one time thing until two days later he has you back between his thighs working him up for another overload and when he pulls you away because he doesn't want to make a mess and the protest you put up. Begging to taste him again

It is eventually a subject he takes to not just the medics but also the scientist, quite worried about the effects of it since Transfluid is. A by product of Energon. He learns that.

___

-no it isn't harmful to humans the same way energon is.

- aslong as you can limit your human on how much they consume as it can eventually give them energy sickness if they have to much 5-6 litres in a 24 time stamp

-the human body needs time to flush it out. Because it works very much the same as energy drinks if you have to much it can stop your heart or give you cardiac problems

-it's quite additive and companionable to human caffeinated drinks, and when the bots realise that there us a full meeting about the effects.

- energon seems to get converted into a very similar thing to taurine which is an amino acid containing sulphur but alot of the minerals and nutrients that Cybertronians live off from their treats, food sources and energon what adds in all the other things.

-Perceptor and ratchet discovered that Transfluid is better for human consumption than energy drinks not by a lot but more the fact you can consume more of it with less problems.

- and each bot seemed to have different 'flavours' and it becomes a full thing of asking their partner what they taste like. And eventually the 'flavour mods'

________________

And on the Case of Sunder I present to you these monsters as an offering as well.

So we have

Sunder : rehab strawberry lemonade/Ultra ruby red

Overload : rehab recovery watermelon

Senator shockwave: rehab green tea

Elita one: rehab pink lemonade

Chromia: rehab protean

Wheejack: rehab tea + lemonade

Wings : rehab gojo tea

Let me know if you would like to be added to tag list (tagged for every fic)

#transformers #transformers x human #transformers idw #transformers x reader #transformers lost light #transformers rung #transformers sunder #rung #sunder #valveplug

48 notes · View notes

baby-yongbok · 10 months

Text

˳·˖✶ ⋆Midnights: Pt.1˳·˖✶ ⋆

Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Non idol

✨Masterlist ✨

Warnings: Mentions of the pandemic (COVID-19)

Notes: Third Person POV + Okay, so, When I started writing this I intended for it to be a sweet drabble but then I just kept typing and typing and TYPING... I think that this has potential to be a series. There will definitely be a part 2 but I'm not sure if it should just be two parts or more. Let me know what you think please? This was also written pretty fast so I'm sorry if the quality isn't the best, but then again I say that about everything I write. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy!

Word Count: 1366

Summary: The two of you are best friends, You know each other like the back of your hand, so why does this new version of Hyunjin give you a feeling you've never experienced before? His smile is all the same but somethings changed... What could it be?

You and Hyunjin have been best friends since you learned how to walk. You’ve done everything together for as long as you can remember and the fact that the two of you are next door neighbors made it even easier to spend an insane amount of time together. Around the time that you turned sixteen and he turned seventeen the two of you decided that spending eight hours of your day together wasn’t enough so naturally he started sneaking into your window late at night to hang out with you. The two of you would play games, watch movies, and anything else that your heart desired all while trying to stay as quiet as possible. Even though your entire family loved Hyunjin, you knew that having a boy in your room at 1:45am would not go over well with your parents. He’d sneak in for any reason and at any time. He got into a fight with his parents? He’ll be at your window at two in the morning. You’re feeling sick? He’ll be at your window with snacks and anything else he grabbed at the store to make you smile.

Unfortunately, your late night hang outs came to an end when the two of you went off to college. Well, when he went off to college. Hyunjin made the decision to stay on campus but you weren’t sure that you were ready for the responsibility of basically living alone. Hyunjin begged you to stay on campus, promising that he’d take care of you and keep you on track but you just weren’t sure. Fast forward a month after that conversation when the two of you found out that you both got accepted… to different colleges. It took a lot for the two of you to say goodbye but you knew Hyunjin would only be a phone call away.

Months went by and your nights were silent. There was no dark haired boy climbing up the tree next to your balcony and knocking on your window anymore. No more late night movies or whispering the lyrics to karaoke at three in the morning. The two of you kept in contact with video calls and texts but you both ended up being way more involved in college activities than you thought you would be thus leaving very little room for meeting up or even texting back some days. As your lives got busier the two of you slowly drifted apart, that was until the pandemic hit. Suddenly your extremely active world was quiet again, all of your classes were now either canceled or strictly online. Hyunjin had no choice but to move back home since his dormitory was closing down to enforce social distancing. It all felt like a mess but there was a silver lining to it all, Hyunjin was coming back home and the two of you would finally see each other after nearly five months of being apart, now all you had to do was wait.

It was a regular Thursday evening, you sat on your front porch listening to music and laying on your bench swing with your dog, Miffy. The smooth voice of the artist you were listening to was suddenly drowned out by Miffy barking and running off of the porch. You sat up, startled by the sudden noise and immediately started searching for the cause of the commotion. That’s when your eyes landed on him, his hair was a bright red which stuck out from his black muscle tee and black sweats. You went over to your front steps and watched him for some time as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk of his fathers car. ‘There’s no way that that’s Hyunjin right?’ Your thoughts were racing as you tried to remember what he looked like five months ago but your memory sadly failed you. Just as your eyes fix on the muscle of his toned arm he turns towards your house. His gaze is cast upwards towards your balcony, he’s clearly trying to see if you’re home. Your heart skips a beat as it all sinks in, that is Hyunjin. Just as you’re about to scream his name to get his attention Miffy reaches him and jumps up on him earning a smile and a happy laugh to fall from his lips.

“Miffy! How are ya girl?” He wildly pets the dog like he hasn’t seen her in years but in his defense it’s felt like forever since he’s seen you and your family. Finally, he puts two and two together and looks up towards your front porch where you stood with your dress blowing in the autumn wind and a bright smile on your face. “Y/n!”

Hyunjin runs over to you immediately with Miffy following close behind. You rush down your front stairs with your arms out in front of you ready to hug your best friend. His arms snake around your waist quickly like you’d disappear if he were a second slower, yours find a home around his neck and he spins you around earning a giggle from you. “Oh my gosh, I’ve missed you, angel”

“I’ve missed you more.” He sets you down and pulls you closer to his body. His chin rests on the top of your head and your cheek rests comfortably on his chest. You don’t know what it is, call it your best friend spidey senses but he feels different than he did five months ago…what’s changed? You both pull back and look at each other, smiling like your lives depend on it. You lift your hand and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re…red”

He laughs at your comment and looks away from you for a second. “Do you mean my hair or my face?”

“Your hair… well actually, both.” You both fall into a fit of laughter before stopping and staring at each other again.

“I dyed it a month ago, I thought I sent you a picture.” Shaking your head Hyunjin’s smile slowly turns into a frown. “I’m sorry I haven’t kept up with talking to you… It was just so busy on campus and I joined way too many clubs and -”

You bring your hand up to stop him with a smile still pulling at your lips. “It’s fine, I sucked at communicating too, what’s important is that you’re here now.”

The guilt he felt for not contacting you melted into a reassured smile. “There’s so much I want to tell you, angel, but I think I have to go.”

He looked over to his house where his father was waiting by the car with his arms crossed. You furrowed your eyebrows with worried eyes and Hyunjin bit his lip slightly. - Fuck why was that hot? - He leans down to your ear and whispers.

“My parents aren’t too thrilled about the red hair, I think I’m in trouble.” You giggle and he does the same. “I figured that once I turned nineteen that I had a bit more freedom but that clearly isn’t the case.”

He rolled his eyes and you sighed. “You know how your mom is, I say that you did this on purpose.” He sticks his tongue into his cheek slightly and smiles.

“You’re not wrong… but listen, I don’t want to make my case any worse so I’ll see you later?” You glance down at his wrist knowing for sure that he has a watch on him.

“Hyun, it’s already seven o’clock. You’re gonna get scolded for about an hour and everything is closed due to the pandemic so we can’t go anywhere.” Just as Hyunjin was going to reply, his father called him to come home. With a sigh he starts walking backwards away from you.

“Leave your window open, yeah?” With a wink he turns and runs off towards his house. He gives you one last glance and smiles before he disappears through his front door leaving you in your walk way. For some reason you felt nervous about Hyunjin coming to your house tonight. Sure it would be just like old times but something has changed… What in the world was causing this feeling?

154 notes · View notes

fatuismooches · 4 months

Note

HIII ITS ME.. I'VE RISEN FROM MY GRAVE :3 I'm here to spam your inbox some more /j

AHAGSH8DH88HDIHIDHOHD I would love to bathe with dottore or the segments... so cute 😭 I wanna snuggle with him in warm water and wash his crusty hair that he probably only washes once a week 💀

I like my water very warm so im just imagining dottore/segment recoiling when they first touch the water LMFAO like they can handle it probably but they just weren't expecting it to be so hot 💀

onto cleaning dottores hair :33 I like to imagine Dottore just staring at the wall as you scratch his scalp (like the iconic webttore panel) he's just going 👁_👁 (quick off topic but I think about that panel a lot he looks so silly 😭😭 I've even started unconsciously making the face when i space out)

AAUAUUUUFHG78GG8H8DHHHHD7GD7IHEHIS I need to give him so many kisses 😭 why can't he be real... I want my kitten whiskers...

Anyway I hope you've been doing good :D

- 🐓

I LOVE THE IDEA OF BATHING WITH DOTTORE... it just seems so intimate and gentle, which is normally the opposite of any activities you really do with the scientist. Helping each other get clean after a long day (what stains are on his clothing? you already know the answer!) Most of the time you like to lean back into his chest as he holds you, you often use this position to force Dottore to stay in the bath longer, no you will not get off him! Or when you're washing his hair, the positions are reversed. He won't admit it but he likes the feeling of you washing him, hands running all over his body. His eyes would be closed, and if you dare to stop for a few moments, he'll open them and you'll get scared from the blood-red eyes peering at you. If you're going to start something, you better keep it up until the very end. I like to think if you're bathing with more than one segment they start trying to bicker in the bath... you have to shush them up because this is a relaxing peaceful time! Also a very good feeling in general, I mean, you have two Dottores all over you. Don't splash water at them though, it'll be 2v1.

I ALSO LIKE MY WATER VERY WARM... my mom yells at me because it's bad for my skin... he and the segments could definitely handle the heat but they would be more worried for you... like surely this isn't healthy for you...? Are you okay? If you burn yourself, come to them immediately.

I LOVE THAT WEBTTORE PANEL TOO!! All his panels are iconic tbh 🙏 I have a post saved with every panel of him, I look at it when I'm feeling insane. Honestly, he would probably have a blank look on his face in the beginning because he can't really believe this is happening, and he's being so vulnerable, and on top of that he's enjoying it all! Dottore's face would look blank but inside his mind is racing with many thoughts. He's wondering if he could get you to do this again tomorrow without seeming like he's being needy.

#smooches talks #🐓 anon #dottore love notes <3 #i aspire to be on the level of dottore simping as you #i would give the kitten whiskers over to u #REGARDLESS I MISS U TOO #i go yippee everytime ur in my notifs :3

53 notes · View notes

thelureking · 1 year

Text

I had this idea to make a list of all the games I played in 2022, half as a recommendation list, and half because I struggle to remember when I played what. I have a really bad time ranking stuff, so I'll just list them chronologically (or, as chronologically as I can remember).

Note: Sometimes I dont have a lot to say about a game, but that doesnt mean I didn't like it or that it isn't good.

So, with that being said:

1) Our Life: Beginnings and Always

This game has put visual novels on another level entirely. How must I go on knowing that I will never be treated like royalty by any other game like this did. Our Life tells the story of your friendship and/or romance with Cove Holden, your new neighbor. This Visual Novel remembers an insane amount of stuff you choose, and it can put you in the state of mentioning something you did as a kid that you completely forgot about. I actually really liked how you can go the entire game as just friends, or choose when your character develops romantic feelings. I cannot overstate how well made this entire thing is. Can't wait to play the DLCs and for the sequel to be released.

Absolute recommend.

2) Iron Lung

If you have a computer, you can play it. It is not an option.

Claustrophobic above all, this game captures the pure dread of the unknown, building tension and atmosphere as you travel through this unknown planet's red sea. Highly recommended.

3) An Outcry

Amazing game that I don't see enough people talking about. The first game that made me actually physically ill while playing an alternative route. I don't know what hit me the most, the subject matter or the type of person I played in that route, a person I know exists and maybe I've met, a person I hope I never become. I knew what the game was specifically referencing, but I found it good that it was able to trigger that response on someone who lives in an entirely different place, with different historical events, but with enough similarities that made the feeling of dread and disgust that much real. Its message is clear and loud as it should be, and one that I think maybe now more than ever needs to be heard. I cannot recommend this game enough.

4) Stillwater

Now this is a Visual Novel that I really liked and would have loved for it to be longer, but I love it as it is. It left me wanting more about the world and its characters, and I think that's a good thing. It feels unfair that this is the one I typed the least about, knowing how much I liked it. It's really worth the read/play.

5) The Caribbean Sail

Have you ever wanted to be a sailor or a pirate? Have you ever wanted to grab a ship, sail into unknown destinations, encounter supernatural phenomenons and watch as your fellow crew members die of disentry five seconds after leaving your first port? Because if so, I have the perfect game for you. It's inspired by the Oregon Trail game, and that's literally what the gameplay is like, except on the sea. Which was enough of a selling point for me.

6) Carrion

My child, it has every disease. Loved the concept when I saw the trailer, forgot I can actually buy games now, and then proceeded to do that. Being able to live my fantasies of being a flesh creature that destroys and eats everything in its path was a delight. The creature is my child and I love it very much.

We need more games that let you play as the monster, I'm serious.

7) The Life and Suffering of Sir Brante

This game is both my beloved and the thorn on my side. Who would have thought that in a game like this you would proceed to suffer through life? I said to myself as if I hadn't known what I was getting into. You'll experience loss, you'll struggle to make a name for yourself, your family will fall apart, and you may never kiss your best friend Tommas who gave you a totally platonic ring to commemorate your friendship because the game doesn't want you to.

Or you'll have a different experience than me on my first playthrough.

You follow the titular Sir Brante from the moment of his birth to his last breath, exploring the world he lives in, full of injustices that at times made me go "I do not care about the lots, give me a fucking gun so I can take you to the fucking Twins". There are many branches regarding life paths, the fate of your family and that of the entire city you live in. But don't worry about it now, keep looking at those toy soldiers at the store as a little kid, I'm sure nothing will happen in the future.

8) Princess Maker 2 Refine

And apparently I didn't get enough of walking a kid through life.

Who looks at a game about raising a little girl by managing her monthly schedule and balancing her stats, health and money and says "yes, this is the game I'll play to destress"?

I do that. Don't ask why.

I have only reached two endings, in one my beautiful daughter became the royal painter, her art held as the most beautiful and inspiring in the entire world. In another, my girl made a name for herself by exploring the lands surrounding the kingdom, so fast on her feet nobody could even scratch her; she married a dragon prince and became the teacher of her own fighting school.

And even with all of that, her goddess mother was not happy.

So yes, this is the "divorced dad who got custody" experience.

9) Planescape: Torment

What can change the nature of a man? That is a question posed by one Ravel Puzzlewell, night hag of the Gray Wastes. It is one of the many questions that this game asks, intertwined by the many philosophies it presents. Planescape Torment does not stick to one question, it asks many, and it lets you answer.

It is a beautifully written game, one of the best I have ever read. There is one moment that I do not wish to spoil, but it still sticks to my head months after I experienced it. As a writer, I found myself fascinated by how a certain event was told, all because of the way it was presented.

It feels like an injustice to not talk in length about Planescape: Torment, but I seriously don't want to spoil anyone who hasn't played it yet. A blind experience is fully worth it. All you need to know is that this is the game that made me post for the first time here, two dumb memes for myself and one short analysis that sometimes reminds me that yes, people can interact with it. Shameless link to it here

10) Growing my Grandpa!

If I had to describe this game without saying too much, I would say it's "heartwarming horror". Two words that don't usually go together, but that they perfectly fit here. The story is, like the title says, about growing your grandpa, more like helping a girl grow her grandpa, but still. Strangely sweet and unnerving, I was tense the entire time, and even when I had to replay it to get the second ending (this was entirely my fault, since I could have gotten it way easier) that tension never left.

11) FAITH: The Unholy Trinity

I don't remember how I found out about this game, but I remember waiting patiently for it to get a steam release so I could buy it and play its three chapters all together. The day finally came, and all that waiting was worth it.

The gameplay is simple, yet the developers found a way to have me both crying in fear and frothing by the mouth out of anger every time I saw the game over screen (affectionately). In terms of difficulty, I would say the game is easy until it isn't, looking at you Chapter 2 and 3 Final Bosses, you bastards. Then again, I saw people say they struggled in places I didn't, so I would say it depends on the player.

The story is so interesting and it's still marinating in my brain please I need people to talk about how the prologue of chapter 2 and the one note in chapter 3 relate please. The cutscenes are also so well done, and I had to restrain myself from using one as a second picture because I didn't want to spoil any of them.

All in all, a must play, fully recommend it.

And remember:

GARY LOVES YOU

12) Inmortal Mantis

This is a tricky one. On one hand, the game starts off by basically spelling out every action you have to do, and suddenly it goes full on "fuck around and find out" mode. On the other, the game implements some interesting mechanics that I would love to see developed on a longer game, but I am not going to put the length against it while knowing how hard it is to make a game. And maybe being short plays in its favor.

13) Who's Lila?

This game is my King in Yellow. I cannot stop thinking about it. I finished it with all endings and achievements in a day, and it wont leave me alone. It is always there, forever crawling at the back of my head, stretching itself over my brain and weaving my thoughts into a spiral as easily as a spider weaves its thread. It made itself a home in my mind and I won't kick it out any time soon. I played it because the concept of controlling a character's face in place of a dialogue wheel was interesting, and the story and the way it's presented (hand in hand with the gameplay) lured me deeper and deeper. I cannot even describe it without giving it the praise it deserves. It takes full advantage of its medium. Playing this game is an experience that I can't recommend enough, and I'm surprised it hasn't gotten the recognition it deserves.

14) Someone stole MY LUNCH!

This visual novel is pure fun. The humor is so good I found myself reading the entire thing out loud while wheezing. I actually found out recently that it's made by the same people that made Stillwater, which, looking at it now I should have known. It's good and I'm not still over not seeing that one joke coming; well played.

15) MILK INSIDE OF A BAG OF MILK INSIDE OF A BAG OF MILK INSIDE OF A BAG OF MILK INSIDE OF A BAG OF-

... INSIDE A BAG OF MILK is a short visual novel about a girl going to the grocery to buy milk, and the challenge this seemingly small action can be. It is your responsibility to help her through this.

The steam page description perfectly summarizes it: "This is an artistic manipulation with word and form, only then - a game."

Reblog with more games

Or, you can jump to the 2023 list!

#already reblogged with three more games!#game recommendations #our life beginnings & always #iron lung #an outcry #stillwater visual novel #the caribbean sail game #carrion game #the life and suffering of sir brante #princess maker 2 #planescape torment #growing my grandpa #faith the unholy trinity #inmortal mantis #who's lila #whos lila #someone stole my lunch visual novel #milk inside a bag of milk inside a bag of milk #lilium post

429 notes · View notes

texasthoughtsaboutnothing · 5 months

Text

The Stranger and my thoughts on where each LCB Sinner is at (Long)

Hey, I actually sat down and read L'etranger, Meursault's source novel. I've got some fucking feelings about it, especially relating it to Limbus Company and what it might mean for his Canto in like 2 years.

Firstly, you should read or listen to this book. It's short, surprisingly punchy, and easy to follow. I (probably) don't have autism but I can absolutely see a read of this where the character does or is neurodivergent in some other way; beyond his relationship and evaluation of social queues and norms he also seems to deal with sensory issues. There are better people than me who should talk about this and I'm probably not adding a lot to the conversation but keeping this reading in my head for the climax added an extra layer of discomfort (intentional discomfort for the benefit of the story's message, I should say) to the whole book. But It's worth experiencing even if you disagree with that reading or have a different one.

Limbus Brainrot/Spoiler stuff from here on in.

There's always the question of where exactly each Sinner is in their story as they're on the bus. Their stories have been reinterpreted and/or jumbled in ways that make it fun to guess, so to go over each Sinner and where they are based on what we know or my theories:

Yi Sang - I'm not gonna front, I don't really get The WIngs, but this seems like a Good End AU for him. He already escaped his "Wife's" control and the sunless room and is now flying again (metaphorically, or maybe literally? i dont know help me).

Faust - Likely in the middle of the part where she's using Mephistopheles' power to do good in the world and prior to her being damned to hell. Side note, she's last to get a Canto and I bet it's not a coincidence that (afaik) she and Dante are the only two with Hell in their stories directly. My long shot call is that Faust is also Beatrice and there will be so much DantexFaust ship art in 2026.

Don Quixote - The biggest enigma. La Sangre de Sancho has gripped the imagination of the fandom and I am no exception. She's next after Heathcliff so we'll get her some time in August at the latest and I can't wait. My best guess is she's currently gallivanting and will be forced home in her Canto, assuming Don is Sancho theory isn't true. Praying her Canto is called The Impossible.

Ryoshu - In Hell Screen, the reason the painter is obsessed with torture is that he can only paint what he has seen and is trying to paint the Buddhist Hell. In his quest for his art he destroys his life and those around him, and ends up committing suicide over it. But there is a villain in the form of the Lord who beyond driving the story by requesting the screen in the first place is guilty of SA and murder. I'm expecting we're post story; the Lord is related to the five fingers, the daughter might be recast as a friend or something, and the sword Ryoshu carries is likely the screen. Nothing revolutionary in my guesses here, but it's either going to be that straight-forward or insanely abstract, where she's the lord and the painter and the daughter and the screen and the sword is the monkey or some shit.

Hong Lu - I have not yet read Dream of a Red Chamber, it's next on the list. Forgive me!

Heathcliff - Oh boy. Like many, I expect he is post-spurning by Catherine and is on his journey for his fortune on the LCB. So, his Canto will be about coming home to a beloved who is with someone else. Yes, the beloved blorbo will suffer for my amusement. Let's go 3 hours Heathmael sex scene!

Ishmael - We now know her story already kinda happened, as many expected, making this a bizarre sequel to Moby Dick. I think it gave PM a lot of room to do whatever they wanted to while still sticking to the themes of the story. Already wrote about what I loved about this and the recontextualizing of Ahab as a whale unto herself (which I don't actually know if it's in the original novel, but it wouldn't surprise me).

Rodion - A weird one. Her inciting incident happened, the murdering of the landlord/pawnbroker, but the unintentional death of the innocent sister was shifted to the entire damn block. So if I had to guess she's in the period after her crime trying to avoid being caught, but no police officer allegory has really been introduced yet. I read Crime and Punishment years ago so I can't say for certain but it feels the most loosely adapted and suffers a tad for being part of the intro. Rodya's story is in no way finished so it's up in the air. Praying for a Petrovich just so people can meet the OG Columbo.

Sinclair - Still need to read Demian, but I have a rough understanding of the plot. Also unfinished in his story, Sinclair has a long way to go to his self-realization. This feels more intentional however, I remember someone made an observation of Cinqlair as representative of his drunken college years where he's popular but unfulfilled, and I think we can extend that to all of his IDs. He seems to have the most potential of all the Sinners, so much so that I wouldn't be surprised if there's a mirror world where he's a Color unto himself. I digress, the point is he's pre Frau Eva (who if she turn's out to be the Purple Tear I will lose my mind) who is also called Beatrice at some point so what's up with that PM?

Outis - Another big mystery, especially as she isn't Odysseus but Outis, a name referencing a particular part of the Odyssey with the Cyclops. I have to imagine she's on the Odyssey, journeying home after the Smoke War (which might have some parallels with the Trojan War beyond the obvious). It's interesting all the Greek myth named Abnormalities are Hospital themed, might be something there but nothing I can parse from my limited knowledge of Greek society and folklore. While she' might be a traitor, I'm thinking she's joined Limbus Company to hide while on her journey; she might be wanted dead by something and is concealing her identity after what happened in the war.

Greg - Again, a character post-story. He was locked in a room, he metamorphized, and... well he's alive? So we've diverged from the source novel, as it's taken the allegorical meanings and made them more literal, but Hermann is still around and a major player so who knows where this will go?

Meursault - I have so many thoughts. Meursault could be anywhere in his story, but I'm going to guess it's one of two places. First guess, we're completely pre story. His Canto opens with him getting a message that Maman died today, or maybe yesterday, he doesn't know. So the whole story plays out over the course of the Canto. But more likely, and my prediction, is that he's currently in "jail" awaiting his execution or acquittal. He has already murdered a man (or done some other crime) and instead of being tried for that, he has been tried and sentenced for his peculiarities of character. Bound in the chains of others, the multitudes have tightened their hold (I'm very clever and not cringe at all).

So I have to wonder what light blinded him, overwhelmed him so much that it led to his crime? The Bright Nights and Dark Days are an obvious choice, and I'm not the first to suggest it. Perhaps he distorted? Anyway, his story ends with him having given up on acquittal and instead hoping for a crowd of people hating him as he approaches the guillotine. I'm super interested in how this will play out in Limbus, especially as he must survive for gameplay purposes.

Also, Meursault is so horny. Like, oh my god. Half of his thoughts are of Marie, specifically of wanting her and all the connotations that contains. He spurns God in the face of a Chaplain, saying that He is worth nothing compared to a single hair on a woman's head. Meursault is not a romantic but not just some horndog either, his desire for sex and women and their bodies feels like an extension of his worldview centered on the immediacy of life and not just debauchery or hedonism. It's a part of the idea life is lived as today, yesterday, and tomorrow, and there is joy and happiness in that simplicity. I feel like this will get cut for Limbus but I hope it isn't, I want Meursault to casually admit he desires every Sinner on the bus carnally (yes the men and NB too, probably just a HC but I do believe that the City is a binormative society based on its already loose relationship to gender identity).

So uh, that's the thoughts so far. Merry Christmas, I guess.

#limbus company #project moon #the stranger #this was meant to be a paragraph

48 notes · View notes

deeply-unserious-fellow · 28 days

Text

This shot is going to haunt me for at LEAST the next couple months. Like. It's driving me insane. And it's all because of one stupid, tiny detail.

The blood drips on Vox's mouth

Now, there are 3 reasons this is bothering me so much. 1 is obviously the fact that THEY ARE ON THE WRONG SIDE OF HIS MOUTH, 2 is that there's no real reason the blood drips would be appearing in this moment, and 3 is that this is part of a sequence where VAL AND ANGEL ALSO BOTH HAVE PINK LIQUID DRIPPING FROM THEIR MOUTHS.

Now, there are possible, very reasonable explanations for the blood drips(which I feel the need to clarify have been CONSISTENTLY on the left side of his mouth in every shot except for like one other): it could be an animation error, simple as that. It could also be that they just switched the sides so the blood drips would be more noticeable, but I'm not really sure why they would do that? Because A, I edited the screenshot so that the blood drips are in their normal position and it literally looks fine

And B, why would it be extra important for us to know the drips are THERE unless they have some kind of significance in the context of Poison? Every detail in an animated show is deliberate because each panel literally has to be drawn out. If they flipped Vox's blood drips to the other side in this scene in order to draw attention to it, then there's a REASON behind it, there is something important going on here.

I think it's also important to acknowledge the only OTHER time Vox's blood drips have been on the right, this shot in the finale:

Though in this shot there's also an extra drip on the left, and the two on the right are both different sizes, which. Isn't how they normally look. The drips in this frame just overall look a lot more natural then the usual ones? Which I haven't added a picture of yet but they look like this

Two, same sized red stripes on the left side of his mouth. Anyways those are the only two times they look different, and the two moments have literally nothing in common so I can't figure out why they would be different THERE. The best explanation I can think of for the one from the finale is that a story board artist made an artistic choice(hence the drips looking significantly more natural, mor like Alastor's at the end of Stayed Gone), and then it never got changed or corrected or whatever because the frame where his face is right up in the camera last for like a split second. But Idk. That explanation doesn't really apply to the Poison shot because they look EXACTLY the same aside from being on the wrong side and the Poison shot lasts a lot longer than the close up in the finale does.

I would also like to point out that the drips switching sides is NOT a Val make out session exclusive, because when they're making out in the finale, the drips are still on the left. Like you can see the right side of his mouth in this shot and it's completely drip free.

That was a LOT of text for just one section but ONTO REASON NUMBER 2!!!!!! There is no reason Vox would be doing the fucking mouth bleeding thing in that scene.

Those blood drips only appear on Vox's mouth when he's really, REALLY worked up. The times we see them he's typically REALLY angry or REALLY excited. Like, emotions that would typically cause an adrenaline rush. And there's no real reason he would be having an adrenaline rush in this scene? Like unless wanting to make out with someone real real bad gives you an adrenaline rush I wouldn't know I'm ace. But even if that IS the case, shouldn't the drips disappear after Angel interupts them?

There's no energy in his expression when he looks at Angel, no real evidence that he's feeling anything beyond "ugh this guy again". No reason he would still have the drips. And it's not even really an animation thing, because there was plenty of time to get the drips to subtly go away in this shot. But no. They stay for the whole time. Also, while looking through GIFs to find one of this scene, I noticed that Vox literally NEVER has the blood drips when he's frowning. There a couple shots where it would make sense for the drips to appear(like when he calls Adam a pussy for not killing Al), but they don't, and in all of those shots he's frowning. So for this to be the ONLY TIME the blood drips don't dissappear when he stops smiling? Idk seems kinda sus.

Now. The final, and possibly most concerning reason this scene won't leave me the fuck alone: Angel and Val are drooling to.

(IM SO SORRY FOR THE HORRIBLE QUALITY I HAD TO GET THE SCREENSHOT FROM A LOW QUALITY REPOST OF THE MUSIC VIDEO OFF OF YOUTUBE-)

It's really, really subtle, like to the point where I didn't actually notice it until I saw somebody else point it out, but in the scene where Angel is breaking down after all the SHIT Val put him through over the course of the Poison music video, he has a little bit of neon pink coming out of his mouth. He then wipes it away, looks at his hand, and turns to look at Vox & Val.

And Val has it to. All three of them have the same bright pink dripping from their mouths. And granted, Vox & Val are in a very limited color pallette, and the red in Vox's design got swapped for that same bright pink, and his drips are usually the same red as his eyes, but the fact that it's the same color as the spit(?) coming out of Angel & Val's mouths should at least be a little noteworthy, right?

ALSO!!!!!!! I literally just now put this together- the pink substance is coming off of the right side of Vox and Angel's mouths, but the left side of Val's. It's a small detail, but given that the main reason this scene is driving me up the goddamn walls is that Vox's drips are ON THE WRONG SIDE OF HIS MOUTH, there's gotta be something to it.

Anyways, these points have all been driven into the ground already. Everybody and their mother have been taking this scene and analyzing it, saying the same shit I just did in a bunch of different ways. I'm rehashing all of this because it's relevant to the conversation, but at this point it's kinda like just pointing out the obvious. BUT! I do want to try bringing something new to the table, something that might ALSO explain why Vox's drips are on the wrong side(again, same side as Angel's), so bear with me here:

I've pointed this out before, but Poison is a pseudo dream sequence. It's constantly cutting back and forth between Angel living it up vs him suffering extensively. This is the most obvious during the dance sequence with the giant blue screens(which I cannot provide a GIF of bcuz I have already reached the image limit for this post-). The very obvious dichotomy is meant to show us how Angel uses his mask to cope with the constant abuse, he literally says he's dissociating in the song, but it ALSO means that a lot of the stuff we're seeing in this sequence isn't literal. The scene with Vox and Val might be part of that.

Vox and Val are in a very different color pallette from everything surrounding them. They're both colored in dark blues and neon pink, purple & blue. The demon beside them, however, is not. That demon is colored more naturally. And while, from a technical stand point, I think it's mostly just to make sure Vox & Val pop and are the center of our attention, it could ALSO mean that this is specifically a part of Angel's dream sequence. It's how Angel sees them. And Vox's drips are on the wrong side.

Now, I don't wanna say that this means Angel feels that Vox is in a similar situation to him, because it feels. Weird. But then again, this shot is the only thing we have on Angel's view of Vox! We know plenty about how Vox views Angel, it's not like. Specific. It's just pretty obvious that Vox Does Not Like Him. But we have nothing concrete on Angel's view of Vox(or Velvette for that matter but that's not relevant rn). Which is interesting, because Angel DEFINITELY has oppinions on him. Vox is dating Valentino, Angel's abuser, and never does anything to stop the abuse. That's gotta lead to some built up resentment, y'know? But all we have right now to show us Angel's view of Vox is something that, if you look deep enough, seems to imply he feels more empathetic towards the guy then anything else? Again, Vox and Angel's pink drips are on the right. Valentino's pink drips are on the left. Vox's blood drips are almost always on the left. But they aren't here. They're on the same side as Angel's. You see what I'm getting at here? Wether Angel is RIGHT about Vox being "on the same side" as he is remains to be determined, but still.

Anyways, I could just be over thinking this. I have a long, storied history of taking small details that are probably just mistakes and blowing them completely out of proportion. Ask literally any of my friends abour Bird Teeth and they will confirm. Plus, I'm probably gonna end up over thinking this shit for all of May and completely change my mind on what the reversed blood drips mean, I have a tendency to do that. But for now this is my theory; the reason Vox's blood drips are on the wrong side of his mouth in Poison is because Angel views Vox as being in a similar situation with Valentino to the one he himself is in. Not the exact same, but similar enough to warrant sympathy at the very least.

#can you tell that I just randomly came to that conclusion like half way through writing this?#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #theory #hazbin hotel theory #gal overanalyzes random shit

38 notes · View notes

she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 7 months

Text

Analysing my favourite lines from Six of Crows chapter by chapter: Chapter 3, part 3

Same as usual: famous or popular quotes being missed doesn't mean I don't like them it just means I don't have anything new to say, and some quotes will not have explanations because I just like them I don't really have anything to analyse

' "We fed [jurda parem] to three Grisha, one from each order,"

"Happy volunteers?"

"Indentures," ' - the VOLUMES this speaks. And the willingness with which he admits it because it's such a normalised practice??? I think Anya is actually a really underrated character and we should talk about her more

"[amplifiers] only increase a Grisha's power. Jurda parem alters a Grisha's perception" - can we talk about how Leigh Bardugo is a goddamn freaking genius for foreshadowing the plot of KoS/RoW with this single line? Because that's insane. This line specifically implies that the power parem unlocks for a Grisha is always possible, they simply lack the perception or understanding of it to find that power without the drug inhibiting whichever neural pathways it inhibits. The ability to shed yourself of the restrictions created by strict limitations between abilities, the Orders, etc. is always there but because there's such an ingrained cultural belief Grisha have effectively lost the ability to perceive their power in the way the Saints once did. I hope this makes sense, it kind of links to my post about the small science versus magic in terms of the revelation in KoS and RoW. Even Nina explicitly states that Heartrenders and Healers have the same gift but perceive it in different ways, and yeah I feel like I'm rambling but hopefully this makes sense, I think it's incredible foreshadowing particularly because we really think nothing of it in the moment.

' "What does it do to sorry sobs like you and me?"

Van Eck seemed to bristle slightly at being lumped in with Kaz, but he said:

"It's lethal" ' - ok so first of all I love that Van Eck's superiority complex is so very obvious from so early on, and in this particularly moment it's brilliantly conflicted as well because Van Eck will also see himself as superior to Grisha since he owns Mika's contract on indenture and possibly others. Second I would argue this is yet another red herring, I talk about this constantly but Leigh Bardugo embodies her own ideology of 'always hit where the mark isn't looking' in her writing style and will often give us hints that seem like foreshadowing but never come into play, whilst using them to far more subtly foreshadow what actually happens. Have I ever mentioned that I think she's a genius? In this case, reading these lines made me more concerned that an otkazats'ya character such as Kaz or Inej was going to end up injesting the drug and being killed by it than I was a Grisha character such as Nina. Now that's partly becasue this is given to us before we find out the kind of toll the drug takes on a Grisha and so we don't see anything to fear in it for Grisha themselves, only for the otkazats'ya who fear a loss of their dominance/control. In actuality we never see any otkazats'ya character forced to or accidentally ingest the drug, because it's a precious and rare resource that would only be wasted on killing them when there are plenty of other methods, but in this moment - particularly since, as far as we know, we're yet to meet a Grisha main character - parem is established as more threatening to the characters we know than the characters we don't, so our immediate concerns are raised towards them and we let our guard down slightly to the idea of a Grisha main character being threatened by the drug. Now yes, the danger of the drug for Grisha is established very quickly after this, and our fears for Nina taking it do become much more heightened than any other character, even Jesper, during the Ice Court Heist, but there are still a lot of red herrings and hidden pieces of foreshadowing surrounding Nina's ingestion of the drug, most notably Matthias saving her from Jarl Brum and appearing to have alleviated the threat of the drug only for her to take it by her own choice shortly afterwards, and we still have this initial perception in our minds for what we were first told about the drug: powerful to Grisha, lethal to otkazats'ya.

The fear that I've spelt otkazats'ya a different way every time I wrote it in that paragraph is real.

"If it's not identical to gold in every way then the difference has eluded us. Have it tested if you like," - the challenge, the superiority complex, good lord I detest this man

' "Perhaps you heard of the Shu paying off their debt to Kerch with a sudden influx of gold? The assassination of the trade ambassador from Novyi Zem? The theft of documents from a military base in Ravka?"

[...]

Kaz hadn't heard anything about Ravkan documents, but he nodded anyway. ' - I think this is another red herring (????) I remember reading this for the first time and thinking it must be really important but then it never seems to come up again, or at least not that I've noticed in any of my rereads. If anyone has noticed that it's referencing something please let me know because I might just be missing something, but it catches me out every time

' "Financial markets would be thrown into chaos. The world economy would collapse,"

"How very exciting," ' - I love him

' "At the Ice Court,"

Kaz stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing. ' - not only is this so goddamn iconic of Kaz but it's actuallu a really clever writing tool as well, because with this reaction and the short exchange that follows Bardugo quickly and succinctly tells us all everything we need to know about the Ice Court at this time, ie it's impenetrable, introduces the main premise of the novel, and successfully hints at her worldbuilding in a way that tells us there's more to discover but we don't have to deal with it right now. It's effectively a brilliant way of avoiding an infodump and it gets to come hand in hand with such an iconic Kaz moment, so bonus points.

"Kaz pocketed his pistol" - this is so funny to me because I'm sure they establish it's Van Eck's pistol but he just takes it and no-one questions him I love it

"There's no point to a fortune I won't be alive to spend" -later echoed by "you can't spend his money if you're dead" and I find this really interesting because it implies that Kaz absolutely has a set price in his mind for everything. Ten million kruge is not worth drying for but thirty is.

"He had the eerie sense that the carved fish on the walls had halted mid-leap to listen" - I love this so much. Just as a quote in itself I love it. But also, there is a kind of theme following through of this discomfort the characters often find in murals, mosaics, and the like, and they are also often used as a metaphor to represent the character's relationships or arcs, such as the wolves destined to run in circles for as long as the Ice Court stands that represent Kaz and Inej or Nina's comment about how Ravkan folk monsters wait to be awoken by the call of heroes, but she is no hero so hopefully no monster will come. I haven't found a satisfying answer for what the carved fish may represent, but they could possibly just link to lack of trust that should be placed in Van Eck and really the uncomfortable feeling should be more about the merch than his decor. I did a little bit of reading about what fish can sometimes represent in Dutch art, the culture on which many aspects of Kerch are based although Ketterdam itself is confirmed to be an amalgamation of cities around the globe with particular emphasis on Dutch-Republic era Amsterdam, and I found out that in the fish would often be shown dead as a warning of moving away from faith by gluttony or greed - so perhaps a symbol of Van Eck's performative religious acts and the greed that truly controls him. (Yes, I actually spent my time researching fish in Dutch art for the purpose of a one sentence reference to carved fish in Six of Crows, and I know what you're thinking: I must be really fun at parties)

"the dream he'd had since he first crawled out of a cold harbour with revenge burning a hole in his heart"

' Mika started to cough, and Kaz saw blood on his sleeve.

"Sit," Van Eck instructed gently, helping Mika into a chair and offering the Grisha his handkerchief.

He signalled to a guard.

"Some water," ' - I'm not 100% sure on the relevance of what I'm about to say but looking at this exchange retrospectively it just seems so performative and I really question it; I don't this is part of the façade Van Eck presents generally to the world or if it's, in his mind, for Kaz's benefit to give him no reason to distrust him, or what, but I know that I don't for one second believe that in private Van Eck would politely give an indentured Grisha his handkerchief and send someone to fetch him a glass of water.

' "DeKappel oil painting [...] I had been assured that my gallery was impenetrable [...]"

"I do seem to remember reading about that" - the audacity in this child knows no bounds and I'm so here for it

' "I'm inclined to believe that the thief took it for a different reason,"

"What would that be?"

"Just to prove that he could,"

"Seems like a stupid risk to me,"

"Well, who can guess at the motives of thieves?"

"Not me, certainly," - I adore this excahnge so much. And as a side note it's really clever becasue we as the reader know with so much confidence what's going on that there's no need to extrapolate and explain it to us, yet we feel like we have the full story. And of course later we learn it was Kaz and Inej working together and I love this because cna you imagine one of them bringing the paper to the other after reading about the 'impenetrable gallery' and they're just looking at each other like "... we have to, right?" "Hell yeah we have to, get your coat,"

"Kaz had heard rumours of a firepox outbreak [...] skin crawling. He wanted no part of a plague" - this is some mad foreshadowing right here, and the fact that KAz is seized by an unexpected flashback mere lines later tells us so much because when we look back on it we realise that he's so stressed by the idea of a plague and his concern only makes it harder for him to anticipate a flashback.

"Van Eck led him through a door and into a manicured garden, thick with the new nectar scent of early crocuses. The smell his Kaz like a blow to the jaw. Memories of Jordie were already too fresh in his mind and, for a moment, Kaz wasn't walking thorugh the canal-side garden of a rich merch. He was knee deep in spring grasses, hot sun beating down on his cheeks, his brother's voice calling him home," - so this is the flashback I mentioned a second ago and it is literally just a couple of lines after Kaz's concern about a potential plague outbreak. We also have the added twist of crocuses traditionally symbolising rebirth, mirthfulness, and innocence, contrasting Kaz but also arguably existing to taunt him with the younger version of himself and his brother the scent reminds him of. The idea of twisting what crocuses usually represent is also famously used in Vivki Feaver's poem, 'The Gun', where she writes "the King of Death/ had arrived to feast, stalking/ out of winter woods / his black mouth/ sprouting golden crocuses" and Bardugo could be doing the same thing here by using something traditionally associated with youth and joy to represent or hint towards Kaz's traumatic experiences as a child. Possibly the metaphor is extended by the way the scent of teh crocuses is so quickly lost to the stench of the boathouse, particularly with the idea that there are dead bodies in there linking to the feeling of dead flesh, to show the stark contrast of Kaz's life before coming to Ketterdam, and after.

"Councilman Hoede lost a lot of blood. But he's in the same state as these men. He's been removed to the country with his family and the staff from his house" - this was very much the same vibes as the way you can pay an awful lot of money to be buried outside the city or you can be burned on the Reaper's Barge and it's so interesting to me, that even in death your body is priced and part of an institutionalised nonsense social hierarchy.

' "Why do you wear the gloves, Mr Brekker?"

Kaz raised a brow.

"I'm sure you've heard the stories,"

"Each more grotesque than the last,"

[...]

"Pick one," Kaz said, as he vanished into the night, thoughts already turning to thirty million kruge and the crew he'd need to help him get it, "They're all true enough," ' - this is a brilliant excahnge and I love it but when we're looking back on it after knowing the full story it's so sad because part of Kaz genuinely views himself as a monster

#grishaverse #six of crows #leigh bardugo #crooked kingdom #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #nina zenik #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #kanej #wesper #helnik #soc analysis #soc meta #soc analyst #long post

56 notes · View notes