#can't remember if I've posted this or not
Text
❝ 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧'. ❞ | boothill.
boothill x fem!reader.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and boothill meet in a bar, and have a very nice chat (aka, you flirt like mad).
𝐜𝐰: SFW!! no use of y/n, alcohol consumption (it's a bar come on now), bar banter/flirting. (pathetic attempts at) funny haha humour, and ermm well inspired by old 1950s western films (my dad adores john wayne i cannot escape them HELP), but like in the hsr universe yk. this one was meant to be funny because i had a BALL playing around with boothill's CANONICAL censor oh my god i love him. imagine calling him a fucktard and the only thing he can clap back w is "you son of a biscuit-eating bulldog" (what the french toast?) or something idk. can he say that? or can he only say nice things—anyways enough rambling 😔
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: (continuation from above basically) this man i tell you. i can't sleep. can't eat. he plagues me. day in and day out. i do not have the funds to pull for him. how dare he look at me with that sexy smirk? ain't got no money pal sorry. anyways here's a lil thing i wrote in honour of this man making my chronic fatigue worse <3 NOT PROOF READ. it is currently 12:44am as im posting this so there will be MANY typos haha im going to sleep now.
"You look like you should be in a saloon."
The gun-slinging Galaxy Ranger glanced up at the woman who just took a seat beside him from beneath the brim of his hat, drawn from his thoughts. She had taken a seat that was a respectable distance from him, two bar stools down, the message clear that she wasn't here to chat him up and lead him off to somewhere secluded and have some 'fun', but was only here for small talk and a drink. Good thing she wasn't coming onto him, too. Saved him having to turn down yet another woman looking for a fleeting one night stand.
He went back to absentmindedly swirling the malt juice around in his glass. Car oil, basically. He let out a small chuckle. "Ain't the first time I heard that one."
"Yeah? Makes sense. Fit's cool, though." She nodded to his cropped jacket, his spurred boots, his pants with their sides unzipped. She didn't seem to be bothered by the sight of his belt lined with ammo and a holstered gun. "What's that your drinking? Looks like engine oil."
"Malt juice," Boothill humoured her. "Can't drink nothin' else. Perks o' bein' a machine."
"Machine?" The woman lifted a brow, taking a sip of her beer. "Ah, gotcha. You're a robot?"
"Cyborg, yeah." It didn't matter if he divulged in her what he usually wouldn't. It was just tedious small talk, a nice weight off his mind, and he wouldn't ever see her again, anyway. "Got its pros and cons."
"I see." He was starting to become rather surprised at how...nonchalant she was about this. She lifted her beer jug to her lips once more. "So, what do you do for a living? Go around cosplaying as a cowboy?"
"Heh. If ya like, sure." Boothill was getting curious. It was once in a blue moon he came across someone as relaxed as this woman. "Let's say, it's my...signature look. Across the galaxies. Helps people remember me."
"You're starting to sound like a criminal on the run," she laughed lightly, only out of politeness, really. "Considering the people I've come across around here, I wouldn't mind getting you've got a bounty on that pretty head of yours."
"Uh-huh." He swigged the last of his malt juice. "Perceptive of you, sweets. You a local? Frequent?"
"Pretty much." She shot him a glance. "And it seems I was right. Eh, don't worry. I don't care enough about ya to turn you in. How much you wanted for, anyway?"
"A lot." Boothill grinned impishly. "Those IPC cuties keep bumpin' the ‘prize money’ up, if ya like." He made air quotation marks. "Yer'd be set fo' life if ya got yer hands on that money."
"I'm sure I would be." She really didn't seem to care. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"
"Boothill," he answered, inclining his head towards you. "What about you, darlin'?"
You gave him your name, downing the last of your beer, before hailing the bartender over for a refill. "Nice to meet you, Mr Boothill."
"D'aw, shucks, haven't been called 'mister' in a long time!" Boothill flashed a toothy grin, showing off his shark-like teeth. He noticed how you didn't recoil, barely even blinked, at the sight of them. "Makes me wanna buy you a drink, sugar."
"By all means." You're never one to pass such a offer up. "And you like to flirt, too, huh?"
He watched you rummage around in your purse for something. You finally pulled out a compact mirror and checked your appearance in its tiny mirror. He leaned forward, took your free hand, and placed a kiss to the top of it, winking at you from under his cowboy hat's brim. "With such a lovely lady as yourself? How could I not?"
You laughed in a rather unladylike way—you, more or less, gaffawed—before retracting your hand and tipping his hat right down over his eyes, disorienting him. Your cheeks burned. "You're a funny one, Mr Boothill. You sure know how to woo a lady."
He adjusted his hat, huffing, leaning back in his seat. "I wasn't bein' funny. I like ya. I don't just kiss any old woman's hand."
"Got a little crush now, have you?" You raised your beer jug up in his direction as a friendly salute of sorts, grinning. "Cute of you. I like you, too, but I'm not letting you take me home."
"Ain't got one to take ya to." Boothill shrugged, not noticing how your smile suddenly vanished and you were looking at him. "Sons of biscuits made sure I couldn't have one no more, 'cause I wasn't about to let 'em get away with shady things they keep nicely under wraps."
"'Sons of biscuits'...?" You echoed, puzzled. You were also suddenly feeling quite sorry for the man. He was a roamer—a nomad of sorts, never stuck in one place for very long. That, you were instantly able to tell once you first laid eyes on his broad back.
"Someone had a little play around with my Synesthesia Beacon, so now I can't say nothin' mean—I'll try to say honey, honey, ugh. I'm tryna say honey." He tsked in frustration. "See? Can't say it."
"You can't swear?"
"Yep. Very aggravatin' at times. Whenever I wanna yell the s-word in combat, I just say somethin' ridiculous like 'terrific!' or 'groovy!' I sound like a right looney tune."
You chuckled. "I can tell that if you didn't have that censor on, you'd have the mouth of a sewer."
"Heck yeah. I'm goin' to town with all 'em bad words right now in my head," Boothill scoffed. "Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em—see what I mean? Hopeless. Wanna drop the f-bomb real bad."
"Perks of being a cyborg, indeed," you laughed, patting his shoulder. "It's rather funny to see such a tough-looking guy like you run around without anything else to yell but 'unicorns! Cotton candy!' when someone jumps you."
He snorted. "That's about right. Had one cutie pie try to mug me once and I was gonna swear his ear off, but all that came out was "look at this angel!" instead of 'punk', but it's a way more colourful word than that."
"Gotcha." You leaned your elbows against the wooden top of the bar. You opened your mouth to continued, but a sudden commotion at the other side of the bar cut you off. Glancing over also, you and Boothill watched as one drunk mountainous guy versus a scrawny little weasel of a man went tooth and nail at each other.
"How's the skinny one still alive?" Boothill amusedly remarked, leaning his cheek on his fist. "Looks like a cartoon."
"Happens all the time." You watched on rather boredly, almost wincing when the small guy very narrowly missed getting his face flattened by his opponent's massive fist. "Those two baffoons are too drunk to think of anything other than settle this scrap with punches. Makes for a good show, though."
Boothill hummed, before turning back to face you. "Can you fight?"
"Me? Well, I know basic self defence, and when to tell someone's spiked my drink." You pushed the beer jug around on the bar top absentmindedly. "This environment's dangerous for a woman. Gotta look out for myself around here. I should stay away, but I like my alcohol."
He chuckled, gazing at you. "Glad to hear that. You ain't some damsel in distress. You're really somethin', you know that, sugar?"
You blushed at his stare and words. "Oh, get off it. It's something every woman's got to know in life. We shouldn't have to, but we do. It's sad."
"Sure is." He pursed his lips, suddenly grave. He may have been a vagabond in a way, but that didn't mean he didn’t have morals. And then he playfully nudged you. "Ya know, seeing an independent, badass lady like you is real attractive."
You grinned. "Boy, if you were anyone else, I would've slapped you for that. That is an instant red flag for any woman in a bar."
"Well, I'll tell ya right now, I'd never harm a woman unless I had no other choice." Boothill stared at you. "Especially not for my own gain. Hurtin' people ain't fun, even though it's my lifestyle."
You shrugged, trying to ignore his intense gaze and the way your heart rate picked up. "A sad reality, but it's nice to come across a man with manners." You finished off your beer and stood, slinging your handbag strap over your shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "Well, thanks for the talk, Mr Boothill. You're a gem."
He stood after you, the spurs on his boots jingling with the movement, before he took your hand and pressed another smooth kiss to the top of it. Then he winked once more, just as a finishing touch, and your cheeks flared. "Any day, darlin'. Say, how about I give ya my phone number? Have another drink sometime."
"You sure? Your vigilante habits wouldn't get in the way of it?"
He laughed goodnaturedly. "Oho, that's funny, sugar. Nah, I'd always make time for you. Here, hand me ya phone."
So you did, and he swiftly typed in his number, before returning your phone to you. "There ya go. Send me a message so I'll know yours." Then Boothill stooped down to eye level with you, staring at you from beneath his lashes and hat, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair affectionately. "Till we meet again, sweetheart."
With that, and a lingering stare as he strode by, the cyborg cowboy left you stunned, heart pumping, phone limp in your hold. He was gone in a blink, giving you no room to wish him farewell also, so you did it by text.
you forgot to pay the bill for your drink
so I covered it for you.
you owe me one, cowboy
His reply didn't take long, and it made your face burn hotter.
Oopsies 🤭
How about I pay you back by taking you to dinner huh?
His emoji usage made you laugh. And so you accepted his offer.
Alright then
I want steak
Can you even eat?
You liked how he always replied fast.
Nah
But that's fine
Your company's better
Suffice to say, you liked the man's suave manner and flirty compliments. It made you feel exhilarated.
Maybe it was because of his classic cowboy moves. Tipping his hat to you in respectful greeting or goodbye, a gaze much too human for a cyborg, and his smooth gestures that made you hot all over.
Yeah. Maybe it was. But, either way, you couldn't wait to see him again.
© jqnehr 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate, repost/redistribute and plagarise any of my works.
#i saw somewhere that apparently boothill was mostly illiterate?? oh well if he this then that last part was ooc ig#anyways this was so fun to write OMG#boothill honkai star rail#hsr boothill#boothill x reader#boothill x you#boothill#boothill x y/n#boothill hsr#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail#boothill x female reader
173 notes
·
View notes
Text
for something as trivial and simple those feelings sure are hard to get rid of
also made a gif a version for fun + alt version with no tears under the cut
the gif is in very low resolution...this is a feature (i could make it bigger but that would require saving each frame individually and than glueing it all together. also i feel like low resolution suits it better. aesthetically and fits the mood)
#hs#homestuck#dirk strider#eye strain#probably? if you think i should tag something else let me know!!#anyway hooray its time for rambling in the tags#so uhhh heres the teæ i've been sick for like a week and you know how it is when suddenly your throat becomes the main gunk warehouse#and you can't breathe lol. wish i could just pull it out. anywaaayy this is basically a vent piece for me being sick lol#also i could draw remotively the same thing with kris deltarune. oh how easy it is to project having a cold#though i have been also experiencing troubles with feelings recently as well....how fitting for dirk#speaking of the man himself (enough of me) his relationship with his own Heart...is peculiar to say the least#the thing i love about alphakids is that despite being so feral they were. so relatable. i cannot stress this enough how unwell they are an#and how they represented being a teen so well. yeah being 15 years old makes that to you#imagine being an emotional mess and trying to fit the 'norm' and act normal about your friends so youre not offputting#and then you fall in love with you friend and your ai clone falls in love with him too looool noone makes out of this one alive#uhh literally. godtiering stuff and dying remember#and speaking of it. tw for suicidal talk for the rest of tags#do you ever think dirk was suicidal. of course the part of when he teleports his head to jake was totally planned and he knew he would ->#wake up as dreamself but. don't you think the moment he cut his head off was sort of. cathartic. how much did he hate his own guts#beheading himself not only for the plan...but also because he thought he 'deserved' it#also wow he is a Prince and was literally beheaded don't you think its funny hahaa#sigh poor thing#this has ended on a not the very pleasant note hm#also fckkkkkk i didn't draw anything with rose/mary for the lesbian visabilty week#(putting the slash because tumblr search system has a dumb gag with showing you posts that contain the tag inside the other tag.#and i don't want this post to show up for the ros/mary fans because it's not!!!! its rose's father emotional crisis post!!!!)#update YOOOO WHAT THE HELL THE GIF HAS EVEN LESS PIXELS THEN I PLANNED fantastic#this your breakfast now tumblr. enjoy your crunchy flakes of dirks meltdown. mwah
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
thinking about my last rb bc i've seen a lot of comments like that since dunmeshi started airing. it's weird how some people who actively read/watch manga and anime have this idea that animanga is. overall bad with a few exceptions that are good
#you know those tweets that are like “i can't remember the last time i read a good manga”#how 😭❓#and people who say they stopped watching anime or reading manga bc they're all misogynistic or stuff like that#or how they all have some pedophilic shit going on like. what#and i've seen these sooo many times#which just says a lot about what you watch and read. and that you don't explore any genres or demographics or magazines outside of#shonen jump#thinking about how people were so surprised about frieren being a good “isekai” (when they just mean it's a good fantasy)#you guys just don't know much about animanga i think#and all the FANTASY WRITTEN BY WOMEN 🤩 posts and they're all seinen and not a single shoujo is included#you guys are just finding out that female mangaka write other stuff besides romance?#ennnn finnnn
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
Paper Hearts Part 1
Remember how my posting schedule was going to be based on strictly vibes from now on? Yeah this is why. I have three chapters of this completed and only two of most everything else because I hurt my right wrist on Wednesday evening (I think I overextended my elbow and it fucked up the tendons in my wrist, because I've done that before on my arm and it feels like that).
So instead of getting more work done on stuff that is literally paragraphs away from the end of the chapter I'm having to tap into my backlog. Which is what it's for. But it is annoying.
I am also aware it's nearly May, but my muse was never one for sense.
Summary: Hawkins High is selling paper hearts to help raise for senior prom. $3 for red romantic hearts and $1 for pink friendship hearts. Steve hasn't dated anyone since the horrific breakup with Nancy on Halloween and so he decides that he's going to send pink hearts to senior girls who wouldn't normally get any hearts at all. When Eddie hears about this he can't help be intrigued. It goes against his very well curated Munson Doctrine. But as events keep throwing them together, Eddie learns there is more to King Steve then meets the eye.
Also a note: the use of the other's last name when it's their point of view is deliberate. As they get to know each other more, the more first names get used.
****
Steve was staring at the huge sign with a sense of dread. In big pink and white letters on a red background screamed the words:
PAPER HEARTS FOR YOUR VALENTINE
$1 FOR PINK FRIENDSHIP HEARTS
$3 FOR RED ROMANTIC HEARTS
ALL PROCEEDS GO TO CLASS OF 1985
SENIOR BALL
Valentine’s Day. That time of year for lovers and romantics. That used to be him. But not since Nancy broke his heart by breaking up with him for Jonathan Byers.
There would be no paper hearts in locker this year. Not even pink ones. Nancy had well and truly blown up his life and she got to walk away scott free.
He didn’t know what to do anymore. He pinched his nosed and rubbed the end. He wasn’t going to cry in the middle of the fucking main hall of Hawkins High.
Just before he was about to start moving again someone shoulder checked him, sending back to the floor and all his stuff sprawling around it like some fucked flower.
“Watch it, Harrington!” the voice growled as whoever it was sped off down the hall.
Steve didn’t even bother looking to see who it was. It could have been anyone these days. His former friends. Billy and his ilk. Hell, even the nerds and geeks got in on the action lately.
He knelt down to start cleaning it up when someone else kicked his books toward the lockers. He managed to get most of it picked up when he reached for the last notebook. Someone stepped on his hand and ground down, hurting Steve and ripping the cover off the notebook, crinkling the first couple of pages.
He shoved it into his bag and cradled his hand to his chest. He looked at his watch and sighed. Lunch was nearly over and he hadn’t even made it to the cafeteria yet.
There was nothing for it, he had to get to his next class. He walked into the class room just as the bell rang, but instead of heading for his usual spot near the front he made for the back of the class. There were always a few empty seats around Munson. The guy was terrifying on a good day.
And Steve hoped it was a good day.
****
Eddie made to class on time by the skin of his teeth. He slid through door just as the bell rang above his head. He was about to lope over to his usual spot in the back when he stopped dead in his tracks.
He looked up at the front at the deliberately left open seat and back at the seat next to his with a raised eyebrow. He wisely said nothing as he flopped into the torture device known as the chesk. Dair? Whatever the hell it was called where some unspeakable horror thought to combine a desk and a chair.
Eddie glanced sidelong at his new companion. The recently deposed king of Hawkins High sat slumped in his chesk, head down, just staring at its surface as if held the meaning to life the universe and everything.
Which if Harrington asked him, he would have been told forty-two.
He pulled out his notebook and noticed that Harrington did not do the same. Curiouser and curiouser. He pulled out a pencil and settled in to avoid falling to sleep today.
He was taking notes and doing the assignment like he was supposed to when about half way through class the teacher called out to him.
“Mr. Harrington!” she shrieked. “If you are going to be sitting in the back, please have the decency to pay attention in class!”
A couple of kids snickered.
“You were talking about how the Fool is used to lighten the absolutely horrific scene above him of Lady Macbeth as she tries to get blood out of her gown,” he muttered, scratching his cheek with his left hand.
That was when the teacher and Eddie noticed the same thing at the same time.
Harrington was cradling his right hand to his chest.
“Mr. Harrington is there something wrong with your right hand?”
“I accidentally hurt it during lunch,” he said with wince.
The teacher tapped her foot and crossed her arms. “And why didn’t you see the nurse?”
“It happened right before class,” Harrington muttered, “and I didn’t want to be late.”
The teacher huffed and shook her head. “I will give you note for your next teacher, but you will see the nurse after class, am I understood?”
He nodded.
“Mr. Munson,” she cried out, shrill. “If you’ll share your notes with Mr. Harrington after class so he does not fall behind.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He continued to keep an eye on Harrington throughout the whole class but whenever their English teacher tried to catch him out, she would fail every time.
When the bell rang Eddie started shoving his stuff into his backpack. “You sure you even need my notes, Harrington? That was pretty impressive shit you pulled out of your ass today.”
Harrington just shrugged. “Just because I was paying attention doesn’t mean it won’t bleed out of my ears with all the algebra and chemistry stuff I have later.”
Eddie winced in sympathy. “Yeah, I hear that. What’s your locker number and I’ll just slip a copy of my notes in the slots.”
“323B.”
“They got you on a lower locker?” he asked with a grimace. “That’s jacked up. Even Mr. Super Senior here got a top locker. Does the secretary hate you or some shit?”
Again Harrington shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll catch you later.”
Eddie folded his arms at looked at him. “You’re not going to the nurse’s station, are you?”
This time it was Harrington who winced.
“That’s what I thought,” he huffed. “I’m walking you to said nurse’s station because it could be broken and if you don’t get that looked at, you’ll be in more than just a world of hurt, man. You could fuck up your hand for life and you wouldn’t be able to anything in that hand ever again.”
Steve’s eyes went wide as all color drained from his face.
“Shit.”
Eddie grabbed both of their backpacks and headed for the door. “Yeah, shit.”
Harrington hurried to catch up, hand still cradled to his chest.
“How did you know that could happen to my hand?” he asked softly.
Eddie eyed him sidelong, but the kid wasn’t being an ass. In fact he would say Harrington was being earnest.
“My uncle works at the machinist plant up the road,” Eddie explained. “One of his buddies broke his hand on the machine and refused to get it looked at. Guess how well that worked?”
“Was it the plant’s fault?” Harrington asked. Eddie cocked his head to the side. “That you uncle’s friend got hurt?”
Eddie reared his head back in shock that Harrington would even ask.
“No, man,” he said shaking his head. “He was goofing off, being a dick. Uncle Wayne always said that if you knock on every door asking for the devil, one day he’s gonna answer.”
“What happens when the devil comes looking for you?” Harrington muttered to himself and Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what this kid had seen.
Because he knows haunted. And Harrington looks like he has an attic full of ghosts.
Once they got to the nurse’s station Eddie waited for him. When the other boy came out he asked how it went.
“She says it doesn’t feel broken,” he huffed. “But that if it doesn’t improve over the weekend after icing at least three times a day, to come back on Monday and she’ll order an x-ray.”
Eddie nodded. “Right. See you around, Harrington.”
He had barely turned around when Harrington called out to him. “Wait!”
Eddie turned back around to have a piece of paper shoved into his hand. “I got the nurse to excuse us both.”
And before he could even reply the other boy was tearing off down the hall as if the devil himself was chasing him.
And after that comment he’d heard, Eddie couldn’t be sure he wasn’t.
****
Steve was curled up on his bed, icing his hand, staring up at the ceiling, and wondering where the fuck his life had gone so wrong.
Okay so he could answer that one, actually. Demogorgon ate his girlfriend’s best friend while in his backyard. While him and said girlfriend were having sex for the first time.
Yeah... that was all kinds of fucked up.
He still couldn’t believe that Nancy sided with Jonathan about him taking pictures of their first time.
So now Valentine’s Day was two week away and he was dateless, friendless, and unpopular. He wished he could just be called a loner. But a loner was cool and Steve wasn’t even that anymore.
He just had to make until the end of may and then he could graduate, leaving this town in his rearview mirror for good.
Steve knew that he would have to struggle through this fucking holiday and Senior prom then it would be smooth sailing from there.
He had all this money that he would normally spend on his girlfriends, but now he didn’t even have that. He supposed he could blow it all on beer and weed and then he could enjoy the weekend for a change.
Steve sat up suddenly, the ice pack falling from his hand to hit the floor with sploosh!
Now that was an idea.
He still had one thing in the school that was nonpareil and that was gossip. In fact, it was easier to hear all the dirty little secrets because no one cared if he was standing there.
A smile spread over his face.
That could actually work. It would be a great way to spend his allowance and it would be fun.
He got up and put the ice pack back in the freezer. He couldn’t do anything about it right then but once his hand was better he would formulate his little plan.
Steve was suddenly excited for the first time since he dropped Dustin off at the middle school’s Snow Ball.
He was going to make this holiday fun even if he had to manufacture the fun himself.
****
Eddie was pissed. A little at himself, but mostly at how Harrington was being treated.
He had to sit through lunch and listen a bunch of stupid jocks brag about stomping on Harrington’s hand when he was trying to pick up his stuff off the floor in the hallway yesterday.
They had been hoping for an actual break, but the asshole thought he’d only bruised it.
The reason Eddie was a little mad at himself for this was because he was the one that had shoulder checked Harrington. He had only been trying to get the guy out of his daze. Not send his shit flying.
And then to have someone deliberately stepping on his hand. Fuck. Not even Hagan ever went that far.
Stev–Harrington didn’t deserve that kind of bullying. No one did.
But he could see the twisted sort of appeal, though. And fuck if that didn’t make his stomach turn.
To see the deposed king and want to mock that? Want to dig the hurt in as deep as he could? To drive home the lesson that popularity was fleeting and that existence was a curse?
Yeah, Eddie could see the appeal.
But he wouldn’t. He might make fun of literally everyone and everything but his own interests, but to make turn that into actual cruelty? That was were he drew the line in the sand.
He went home feeling sick to his stomach. And of course Wayne picked up on it immediately.
He jutted his chin at the chicken and rice on Eddie plate that he had only merely pushed around with his fork.
“What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”
Eddie put his fork down and hid his mouth with his clasped hands, elbows on the table.
“I fucked up today,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean for it to go as it did.”
“What did you do?”
So Eddie told him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, but he got hurt anyway.”
“That does sound pretty bad,” Wayne agreed. “And as you say, you were trying to help only for it to go very awry. And since you didn’t about it until after the fact you couldn’t apologize and that’s what’s eating you up inside.”
Eddie nodded around his fists, his lower lip quivering.
“You’ll just have to find a way to apologize on Monday,” Wayne said wisely.
Eddie sighed. It was the best he could do. It wasn’t as though he could call the guy up or show up at his house. The first because he didn’t have the guy’s number and the second because he’d get the cops called on him so fast by the neighbors.
It would just have to wait until Monday.
****
Permanent Tag List:
@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03
@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie
@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666
@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog
@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690
@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon
@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt
@useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @swimmingbirdrunningrock
78 notes
·
View notes
Note
So, I'm curious: What's your take on Aylin's experience after/if she kills Lorroakan?
Allegedly, there's some information floating around somewhere that said Aylin was angry with Selune after she killed Lorroakan, but I can't find where this info is.
If you saw posts about that here on tumblr it was probably posted by @justanotherignot! I've actually been meaning to gather up all the devnote tidbits about Selûne from Aylin and Isobel for a while now, so thank you for the excuse to do so and ramble a bit.
Player: I was just wondering what it was like in that cage of Balthazar's.
Aylin: Let us not dwell on those dark days. Their memory is a vortex within my heart that leads directly to the Hells.
What is happening is, well, it's the century of unthinkable horror catching up to her. It's the Trauma(TM) - in one of the conversation options she's literally triggered by the mention of someone being run through repeatedly! It's the growing awareness that although she's been freed (and possibly reunited with her love), the secret is out and there are always going to be assholes gunning for her, aiming to use her as an "artefact" and power source to fuel their ambitions, without any regard for her, you know... basic personhood and well-being. Also, Lorroakan was blatantly lying. He didn't find any super special way to siphon her immortality with "no harm, no pain of any kind", he was just replicating Balthazar's soul cage (you can even find a letter from Ketheric to him, showing Lorroakan was pestering them).
On to the stuff from the game files! First, the conversation with Aylin directly after the Lorroakan fight in the tower. I'm going to be putting the context notes in square brackets next to the lines they apply to. I also plucked some audio out from the files for some of these because I love the delivery.
Aylin: The fire-haired fool is dead. Yet as I stare upon his corpse, I feel… sadness. Why? [Slow and curious, angry and confused by all that has happened.]
Player: What kind of sadness is it? / I know something of sadness - or at least the ballads do. What does it feel like?
Aylin: A gripping in the chest. As though I'd lost someone, something. [Lost in thought for a moment; confused.]
Aylin: A paladin's fatigue, no doubt. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side. [Remembering herself. She is Dame Aylin.]
Aylin: I will catch my breath, then to camp I will bring my bones. Moonmaiden be with you.
Player: Smiting is a weighty duty - sometimes it can be tiring. / Perhaps smiting has lost its pleasures.
Aylin: Say it can't be so. For I am Selûne's sword. And ever must be. [She means it, but on the periphery of her consciousness is a tiny crack. Wondering about her fate.]
The above never fails to get me - she is Dame Aylin! Sword of the Moonmaiden! Glorious immortal paladin, champion of a righteous cause! She smites evil-doers for breakfast, that's, like, her whole thing! What do you mean she can't just pick up where she left off and go about her merry smitey way? What do you mean the thing that is supposed to be the literal core of her entire being (forever) doesn't feel good and glorious anymore, but just makes her feel sad and empty? No, no, no, we can't have that.
Player: One of the greatest tragedies of revenge is that it can only be taken once. / Because you won't get to kill him again?
Aylin: Perhaps. Yet if I could run him through a thousand times, I wonder-- [Lost in thought, she's been triggered to remember her own fate being run through over and over.]
Aylin: Battle has tired my mind, made me susceptible to flights of fancy. You were excellent in battle, as is your way. And I am proud to fight at your side.
Aylin: I will return to camp shortly. I just need a moment to… to… [Lost in thought.]
She so very desperately needs some rest and a chance to come to terms with everything that happened and that was done to her. And it's clear it's going to be hard because she is defaulting to trying to deny anything is wrong, is clearly trying (and failing) to just be her old self immediately, has blatantly internalised a lot of that classic I Am A Sword stuff on top of everything (even though her mother is huge on free will and choice!), and is just really not well-equipped to handle any of this at all.
Next, this is the post-Lorroakan convo you get if you have both Aylin and Isobel in camp.
Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.]
Aylin: I was just regaling sweet Isobel with tales of our prowess.
Isobel: Very impressive. Thank you for helping Aylin - that wizard sounded absolutely dastardly. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - she's not sure why Aylin isn't herself.]
Player: My pleasure. He had it coming.
Aylin: He did, and it came. Now, my friend: bask in your victory. I will do the same.
Aylin: But fear not: when the time comes for you to face the foe of foes, Isobel and I will stand by your side. [Rallying her soldierly spirit, but still a little drained.]
Isobel: We wouldn't miss it. Not for anything.
Aylin: Go well, friend. We will see you soon. And with our great powers combined, this city will be saved.
Player: Hopefully he'll be the last.
Aylin: There are always more bastards behind bastards. But we will run through them all, each by each.
Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin.
Aylin: I always do, with darling Isobel by my side.
Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of Lorroakan's death in your mind like silkfloss.
If Isobel isn't there (meaning she died in Act 2), you get this version:
Aylin: Ah. Ally mine. We are reunited once more. [Warm, but drained. She's not feeling like herself.]
Aylin: I was just reviewing our fight against foul Lorroakan; your moves and mine. The victory was soundly won.
Aylin: Don't you think? [Uncharacteristically, Aylin is seeking input. She's usually so confident about everything, but killing Lorroakan has not had the intended effect on her.]
Player: Indeed I do. Let his demise serve as a warning to anyone else who'd seek you out.
Aylin: Let him be the last. If my dear mother has any mercy, she will ensure it. [Trying to stay her usual self, but her mask is cracking a tiny bit here. Privately, Aylin is dealing with a great deal of anger toward her mother, the goddess Selûne, But she's not yet willing to face it. How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?]
Player: We fought well - though I was a little worried about you afterward, in truth.
Aylin: Set your mind at ease, my friend. Dame Aylin is more well now than she has been this past century. [Good humored. Soft in tone. A little uncertain - it's true she's better now than she has been, but why does she feel so shitty, then? (She's in the beginning of reckoning with the trauma of what happened to her).]
Player: I hope you can rest easy now, Dame Aylin.
Aylin: Yes. I wish for the very same.
Aylin: Enjoy the spoils of your victory. Spin memories of our prowess in your mind like silkfloss.
So, a few things pop out for me here. First, you get the more explicit anger at Selûne if Isobel isn't there, as opposed to the "hahah, I will smite all the bastards who dare come after me, no matter how many there are" line. "How could her powerful mother let all this happen to her?" just... damn, hits hard, even if you subscribe to the theory that Selûne simply could not intervene in the Shadowfell imprisonment beyond sending those poor people whose graves you find in front of the mausoleum.
And here Aylin really lays it on thick with the denial that there's anything wrong at all. Combined with the letter you get from her in the epilogue if Isobel is dead, it just paints such a bleak, sad picture. I can just see her going all out on the Sword of Selûne duty-bound paladin side of things, no rest, no healing, no stopping even for a moment, no dealing with anything at all, from the trauma to the bitterness towards mum. Until whatever horrible breaking point comes, a year or a century from now. The need for Isobel's humanising influence is so clear. I've touched on Isobel's side of things here.
Speaking of having a bone to pick with Selûne, if you're playing as a cleric/paladin of Selûne, you can get some extra very honest dialogue with Isobel in Last Light:
Player: Why has the Moonmaiden waited until now to take an interest in this curse?
Isobel: Maybe she was waiting for one of us to find this place ourselves. Free will, and all that.
Isobel: Though if it were my place to ask why she let Ketheric turn; why she allowed this village to rot at his hands - believe me, I would. [A cold edge in her voice]
Player: Are you faring all right? It can't be easy holding a lone candle in such darkness.
Isobel: All things with her strength. You know the litany. [A little sarcastically. She's got a bone to pick with Selûne but isn't being too overt.]
Side note: the amount of devnotes for Isobel's lines that say she's delivering them "with swagger" and being "cheeky" makes me smile every time. Love her. Love her snark.
Also, to get it out of the way: no, I'm fairly sure Aylin did not break her oath. I see this brought up a ton and I just see no way for it to be the case. There is nothing to suggest this outside of a wording similarity and it just makes no sense. Girl is clearly some flavour of Oath of Vengeance (she uses Abjure Enemy, so this is the case even mechanically, even though she's obviously an NPC and not a standard player-build paladin) and she killed a very shitty guy who was also explicitly after her in godawful ways. You can do far worse things in the game than her dramatic speech and backbreaker and not break you OoV.
#sorry this took so long!#baldur's gate 3#bg3#dame aylin#isobel thorm#lorroakan#datamine#voice lines#audio#i'm stopping myself here but i could go on about this FOREVER#time for the comfort part of the hurt/comfort let's goooooooooo#oathkeeper replies to things
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
Oh, nothing much, just a list of reasons why I am so excited to permashift to my ultimate 4d reality //better current reality//
∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘
— EXPERIENCING DESIRED SCENARIOS
I am a hardcore daydreamer just like my brother and sister shifters(you guys🫵🏾), and I can't wait to really live the silly imagines I always have in my head. Even if it's something relatively small, I will still get to live every second of them.
Idk if some of you guys will remember that one post where I mentioned Googlebox? But I'm mentioning it again🙄 because I scripted me, my love of my life, his sister who is my bff, my own girl bff and her boyfriend are part of the program teehee. I swear no one will ever understand how much of a comfort show Googlebox is to me and in general.
The idea of being on TV whilst watching TV and relaxing with my favourite people and eating my favourite food just makes me melt. It's such a core memory to me and idk I just love showing off how perfect my family is to everyone else
— FOOD
I can't wait for all the delicious food I'll get to eat. There will never be a single time where I have to eat something I don't like or don't want to ever again, because why should I have to? I'm mostly excited to have stuff like popeyes, McDonald's, seafood boils, those Korean and Japanese foods you see on mukbangs, loads of fruit bowls (I really do love fruit), basically everything meat/barbecue, pasta including ramen, and sweets too cus🧍🏿♀️🤷🏾♀️
— NO UGLY CLOTHES ALLOWED
Never will there be a day or night where I will ever need to wear clothes that don't suit me or clothes I don't like. My closet is going to be full of the cutest and gorgeous late 90s and early 2000s skirts, shirts, bellbottoms, flares, jackets, oversized ts, shorts, belts, slippers, jewelry, panties and bras etc etc
— ALREADY COMPLETED WORK
In my better cr, I scripted that I am already miles ahead of everyone in college work (and best believe all my work is at distinction level) so I have all the time in the world to do what I want until the next brief; I also scripted the date of month that I will wake up in my better cr in is the 16th April last week so I will have only 3 days of college next week (because i go in on mondays, tuesdays, wendsays and Thursdays) and 4 weeks of freedom to myself. (I also scripted my teachers let me do my own art work in my free time in class, cus sometimes all a girl wants to do is draw their ocs🥺)
— CURRENTLY IN MY MOVING ERA
In better cr, I am kind of in the planning process of moving out of my house to my apartment penthouse with my friend group. I'm thinking of moving out at 18 or 19 years old since I'm 17 rn and I still want to explore my better cr house cus it's wayyyy better than this one. But even once I've moved out I'll probably keep visiting my old home where my mum and her husband lives because.
∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘
Overall, I am so excited to experience everything I have ever dreamed of. I know I deserve my freedom and peace, excitement, and joy. Being able to just do what I want when I want and always knowing that no matter what, everything is going to be okay.
Life is so amazing, and it's so worth living. I know I will manifest my desired reality in no time, and I know all of the stress, time, anxiety, and patience won't be for nothing. Life is mine to explore, and I can't wait to do so
@4ellieluv @livingmydreamlife5555 @theshifterbear @cocozydiaries
#desired reality#master manifestor#4d reality#law of assumption#shiftblr#drself#loa#shifters#shifting#loa blog#loa advice#loassumption#loa tumblr#loa success#reality shift#shifted#reality shifting#shifttok#shifting community
101 notes
·
View notes
Text
I got a few people saying they wouldn't mind seeing a run down of my unfinished work and sketches! So this is gunna be just a big ol post of that and just explaining what the doodles would have ended up being!
First off is just some sketches of Alastor, Husk, a really uncanny Blitzo, and an unfinished voxhusk sketch
Left Husk was reffed off a pose that i've since lost, and right was going to be a little comic of Husk bugging Vox and then Vox bugging Husk in return. :( I don't remember what dialogue I was going to use.
Next is just some unfinished couple sketches! Some Chaggie and Angel/Sir Pentious that I might still use at some point. TuT I think Angel and Pentious could make such a hilarious couple and it kills me that I can't find almost anything for it
and this husk was just going to be a redraw of this
but with Al, Vox, Angel, and Lucifer petting him
next is one I did already post but this one here; left was going to be a short comic where Lilith comes back and is enamored with Husk while also vaguely threatening to Alastor as she is. Right is the only doodle I have so far for a comic about Husk and Charlie getting caught hiding out from the rain, and Husk trying to talk to her about her making a deal with Alastor. Ugh. I need to even just thumbnail out that comic. Its been in my mental queue for literal months!
Next up is a bunch of sketches of my own Hazbin OC, Shiv! I've never posted anything about him alone before, but he's featured in a lot of the backgrounds of my pieces! He was a carnie in voxhusk fake dating, and then a waiter in the diner piece, and ticket booth attendant in the movie theater one!
I always love putting him in just whatever job the art calls for because he is a '1980's cocaine and bourbon grindset hustlepilled business fuck'. I don't know if I will ever expand his story in artwork, but if I did I would draw something about him trying to get a Soul-Based Multilevel marketing scheme going. Shiv is short for 'Shiver' because he froze to death after drunk wandering naked into the woods while on a skiing trip. He's in hell because he made his money doing shitty business practices like scamming old people out of their money with phone scams. If he saw Mad Men he'd think it would be about him, but he'd fit better in Its Always Sunny
Lastly, I have some sketches from a comic I am literally fighting myself not to make, where Husk ends up kidnapped by a ring of criminals that smuggle sinners to other Rings of Hell. Husk would be captured to be an exotic pet for a Ostrich theme'd Goetia, but would quickly escape. The main plot would be him running into and then helping out Blitzo in return for help getting back to the Pride ring!
I would have also got to include my other OC, the little Egg lamb, Sunnysides!
Literally would have just been a huge excuse for me to draw Husk going through Situations and hanging out with the Helluva Boss cast and my OCs.
#i would usually tag this not art but it actually is art this time!#just a whole slew of doodles and yapping and me lamenting about the comics I haven't started making#long post
74 notes
·
View notes
Text
So i literally haven't written fic in like 15 years, so im not sure what happened here. Sorry if it's horrible but i have to get it out my head, so to tumblr.com it goes. (No beta, written on my phone at work so it may be a little rough)
Chimney/Eddie - kind of platonic, kind of not? Set 5B, post madney return to LA/break up, pre-jonah.
"You miss kissing?"
Chimney abandons the baseball game TV, his head swinging over to stare at Eddie. "I'm sorry?"
Eddie keeps his gaze forward, but it's obvious the game isn't his focus as he picks at the label on his beer bottle. "Kissing," he says again with a shrug. "I know the issues Shannon and I had are completely different than you and Maddie. But I remember when she first left . . . Sex complicates things, but kissing was an easy way to feel close to someone."
Chimney thinks of rolling over in the early morning hours, his body reaching out to place a gentle kiss and curl around someone who wasn't there. "Can't say I've thought abut it that much . . . But, yeah, I do. Any reason you're sharing that particular thought with me?"
Eddie shrugs. "I don't know. Therapy was a bitch today. Frank's was poking at the my time after I was discharged. Got me thinking." There's a silence - though not an uncomfortable one - as Eddie gathers his thoughts. "I don't want to be in a relationship right now. I'm not in any place to be in one. But I miss being close to someone like that."
Chimney gazes at his friend, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Me, too. How do you feel about some platonic making out?"
Eddie finally looks at him, an eyebrow raised in challenge. It's not full force Diaz-sass, but he's looking more like himself than when Chimney first saw him after getting back to LA.
"I don't know, man. Think you can manage not to fall in love with me?"
"You wish Diaz," he says with a grin and leans in to meet Eddie over the empty pizza box.
It all feels very high school - not terribly romantic, but also fun and a little messy. When Chimney leaves later that night with kiss swollen lips and slight stubble burn he can't help but feel bit lighter. He's also looking forward to the game next week.
43 notes
·
View notes
Note
May i ask, why do you support endo-systems? (Coming from someone with did themself)
i've talked about this before (can't remember which blog it was on) but can't find it so i'll just run down my reasons again:
above all else, i do not have the right to tell anyone what is actually going on in their own brain. the only time that might be acceptable would be if i was a doctor treating them for a psychological issue, and even then, it's not often a good idea to outright tell someone that their brain is Wrong. this applies both to fakeclaiming endogenic systems and to telling them that they're actually traumagenic but have repressed their trauma; neither is good form.
secondly above all else, we NEED to have solidarity among plural folks. this is coming from a psychology major and a system — there is a large number of psychology practitioners and researchers who straight up do not believe plurality exists in any form. there is also a large number of them who believe systems are far rarer than current diagnoses show, and therefore most diagnosed and suspected systems are not real. i have had to write an essay on why did is fake for a grade before. there are extremely prominent psychologists (ex: allen frances, the literal chair of the team who developed the dsm-iv) who believe did is a fad (allen frances has stated that he wanted to outright remove it from the dsm-iv). if we are fakeclaiming each other in our community, this only makes us more susceptible to the people who want plurality to be seen as entirely fabricated.
on that point, we also need to have solidarity against non-psychologist singlets who fakeclaim systems. things like the r/fakedisordercringe subreddit can be legitimately damaging to the people who are posted, scrutinized, and ridiculed, and we should be protecting each other from that, not shoving endogenic systems into the line of fire.
there is scientific evidence of non-traumagenic and non-disordered plurality (there are some interesting studies linked on this page), especially in spiritual communities.
though not all endogenic systems are disordered, they Can be; having experienced trauma is not a diagnostic criteria for did or osdd-1 in the dsm-5 tr or the icd-11. though it's obviously highly common for did/osdd systems to have experienced trauma, a non-insignificant portion of diagnosed disordered systems (something like 4% iirc) are not traumatized.
to go with the above point, many endogenic systems don't claim to have a dissociative disorder or that their system is disordered. if you're worried about people 'appropriating' or 'faking' your disorder, they largely are not, since plurality can and does exist outside of disorders.
as a traumagenic system, i feel unwelcome and threatened by anti-endogenic folks. i've been fakeclaimed by anti-endos before, either because they mistook me for an endogenic system since i support them or because they decided the behaviors i perform on the internet are evidence i'm faking. i'm not the only traumagenic system this has happened to.
i think that's the main points, i may have more idk
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
Colors!
My thumb's been fucked up by a steroid shot to the point where I can't hold a pen to draw, but the light touch of a watercolor brush is mostly okay, and I had dot cards for Daniel Smith and DaVinci paints, so I've spent the last few weeks unleashing my manic color goblin.
Friends, I've painted so many happy little rectangles. And it has been a journey.
I've found that one of the most-referenced sources for pigment lightfastness is a hard-coded website straight out of the 90s that also talks about UFOs and human evolution. (I don't know what the guy says about human evolution, because I'm afraid to find out, but it makes me very happy that a site like that still exists).
I've learned you can make lovely purples with a cool red and phthalo green, which actually MAKES SENSE, I GUESS, but is still a bit weird and awesome even though I understand the color theory.
I've painted with the Danger Colors.
(Cobalt, manganese, chromium, and cadmium. DO NOT LICK).
I've finally spelled phthalo often enough that I can remember it!
And I've fallen deeply, desperately in love, then had my heart broken.
It's name was DaVinci Phthalo Turquoise (pigment code PB16). When I painted it out it was beautiful; smoothly flowing into a perfect fade, the deepest, most inviting pool of cool, saturated perfect teal. I burst into song. A choir of angels descended to sing backup vocals. I never used to believe in love at first sight, but I was wrong.
...then it dried.
It dulled so much. It was still fine. Nothing special, but fine. Whatever. I'm over it. I am a strong, independent artist. I don't need that kind of negativity in my life.
There's still all the other colors. Colors that didn't betray me. Much.
Here, Monkey is helping model the last swatch tests, which helped me choose which cool red to buy. The phone doesn't capture all the nuance, but they also started out fairly close. (I went with column 3, DaVinci's PV19 quinacridone rose madder).
So... if you're one of those tenacious, patient people who follows my fic, and you've been wondering why I haven't posted, I suppose I really just have one thing to say:
Colors go brrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
#watercolor#pigments#painting#color swatches#so many colors#so satisfying to line them up in rows#colors go brrrrr#Shades makes art#?#traditional art#danger colors#mmmm cobalt
31 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey so I've been thinking about your x-life post and Jimmy violently murdering chickens cause I remembered he did that in evo too and I am also really curious as to why so I did some digging and basically
In evosmp episode 4 (8:12) Jimmy says “I have a thing about killing chickens” which Martyn responds to with “You get a little trigger happy around them don’t you”. So ok clearly there's something weird with chickens here (this is around the 11th of October 2017 by the way)
Now in a stream on the 29th of August 2017 someone calls him a chicken murder in chat, mentioning place race. So ok what is place race? It's a series where Jimmy and Netty race to get a certain item / block in like a continuous world (so each episode is a new block but they make progress in the world as they go) (I think I only skimmed a video)
Anyway here Netty has a chicken she names Jimmy which Jimmy kills because Netty is like implying Jimmy doesn't exist saying she doesn't know anyone named Jimmy. (Place race season 2 episode 4, 2:02). Netty in the next episode pranks Jimmy as revenge for this (at least I hope it's for this) (this is around the 31st July, 2017)
So basically I think that this moment happened and then people started calling him a chicken murderer so he started murdering chickens. Cause I mean then in episode 6 of place race he says that a chiken party calls for making chicken nuggets. (14th August 2017)
Before this he's normal about chickens before this, for example in another stream Netty mentions they're the best mob to be in some hypixel minigame and Jimmy just says "yeah and cats" (paraphrased).
This might make me look a little insane I did just search chicken in YouTube transcripts and then sort from old to new to find out when he started being like this.
Wow ok. So the chicken hatred IS tied to his image in some form. It started from a joke implying he didn't exist, as if he's that unimportant... Netty was just joking for sure and I don't hold anything against her but in hindsight... the themes match up... My friend pointed to a moment where he was compared to a chicken (derogatory) which I can't imagine helps but that was way after X Life. The day he embraces his rancher self and consistently cares for chickens is the day that he can start to care for himself too... sorry what yeah we're both insane
31 notes
·
View notes
Note
Trigger Warning for abuse since I am going to be talking about it a lot.
My honest reaction to TSM anon's confessions/posts trying to justify J's treatment of N. (They're so ass)
Ok so uhh... Anyway I'll try to debunk some of the points:
First of all: yes the fuck she is abusive! Search the damn definition on Google or the dictionary, it's exactly what she's doing, like beat for beat.
Let's start with two examples: one from the manor and another from copper-9.
J kicking N in the manor flashback: for context N and V had literally just bumped into each other, made a spark and both were trying to clean up the mess they made, then comes in Ms. Tenth letter of the alphabet with a kick to N's face for like no fucking reason whatsoever.
J stepping on N's chest while he clearly struggles: In the pilot during the scene that introduces the Alphabet squad during J's introduction she has her foot on his chest while saying he's useless, terrible and if she could, she'd kill him herself and N is very clearly struggling to even breath.
Those two very clearly ARE abuse, the second one even has a tinge of verbal abuse!
Ok so TSM tried to justify both these actions by us not knowing the full context.
The context of the kick is that: there is none, that kick was completely unprovoked, so J had absolutely no reason for kicking N aside from him being in her way from the "move it moron" line, and she changes up her attitude completely at Tessa being there, her visor showing those hollow eyes that drones show when worried or scared.
But even if you say "oh but N was in J's way so she kicked him out" but she could have just, you know, MOVED A LITTLE BIT TO THE RIGHT?!?!? And also that does not excuse kicking a person in the face.
Context of the second scene is: THERE IS NONE, ONE AGAIN! The reason that scene exists is to show that A. J is abusive towards N, and B. J is a hypocrite! Let me explain, A is very self explanatory, stepping on someone's chest and verbally abusing them is very clearly well... Abuse and B is to show that even though she calls N useless, N has shown throughout the rest of the series he is a very competent fighter, arguably better than his fellow DDs and also that even though J was pretty much insulting N for being weak, she got killed by a Angsty bisexual 18-year-old with a pen and a Railgun made out of like, scrap.
I don't know how you can genuinely look at those scenes and go "J isn't an abuser" even though yes she fucking is.
Also I dead ass forgot that second post aside from the "why would Cyn put N in the squad if his abuser?" Part, which has a very simple explanation: it wasn't Cyn, it was Mr. Solver of the absolute fabric itself! It used Cyn as a host, Cyn wasn't in control, she prob has been dead for a long ass time.
The solver is sadistic and it likes fucking with the alphabet squad, take V as an example: it allowed V to keep her memories, just to make V's trauma even worse.
The solver thinks it's funny to traumatize people so why wouldn't it think putting a person in the same team as their abuser wouldn't be?
Anyways I've been typing this since 5:30 AM, and now it's 6:50 and I got school so I'll stop here, if you got anything else to add put it in the reblogs ig...
Final note: I haven't been abused myself (not that I remember) so I can't really fully grasp the concept, but still, J's treatment of N is like, the dictionary definition of Abuse, I'm very bad at understanding other people and their emotions and I'm not super great at analysing characters but this shit is so obviously abuse seeing TSM over here trying to say otherwise is giving me a brain aneurysm.
Anyways have a good day/evening/night or whatever time of day it is :D
.
#md confessions#murder drones#abuse cw#serial designation j#serial designation n#serial designation v#md cyn#the absolute solver
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Group Ask #212
Relevant links to find lost fic
previous group asks - feel free to browse them!
spnstoryfinders
Guide to Finding Fic
Guide to Finding Lost Fic
PSA - Save Your Faves!
Lost and Found fic posts - when mods knew the answer!
when looking for fics similar to the ones you have read, check out our Fics like X Reference Post and Fics like X Tag
Before sending in a lost fic ask, please check out our Tags Page and see if the fic in question could be found under some plot/ trope/ pairing related tag! Big thanks to all followers who do check the tags before sending in the ask!!! Our anon is switched off for good but you can always ask for your url to be withhold either on the lost ask or the answer re fic. <333
And even bigger thanks to all folks who help us to find lost fics! You guys are the real MVPs!!!
Ask #1 (Anon 1 ): there’s this fic…# 1
It's canon divergent and I think Dean and Cas get together in the middle of it. But it's a case fic where demons are gathering all over and Sam calls a bunch of hunters to the bunker. They split into teams and go to the areas where the demons are gathering. Dean and Cas are a team and they go to this office building and the boss is this lady who is possessed. I really really don't remember much else but there's one part that I recall vividly. Dean and Cas are caught by the demons in the office and tied up. The boss lady tells them that they actually want Sam. Dean asks her if she really expects him to give up his own brother. She says no, but Cas might. Cas says "he's my brother too." And that's basically all I remember.
Also, I think Jody ends up rescuing them from the demons. And there's an asshole hunter that one of them punches. Sorry I know this is vague but I've been looking for this fic for months now.
Ask #2 ( ): there’s this fic…# 2
Hi! I’m looking for a fic, and I swear I’ve found it before and now I’ve lost it again, BUT. It’s an AU, that starts in like Roman/grecian times where Dean is captured and Cas (I think Cassius??) is the son of the lord and likes to taunt all the slaves his father’s got. Anyway one day Dean leads a revolt and ends up getting caught and killed for his efforts, and he vows as he’s dying to find cas in the next life. And then! They find each other in the next life!! But this time they’re falling in love! And I cannot for the life of me remember what it’s called or any relevant tags. I know I read it on AO3! Thanks!
Ask #3 ( @forthosethatwonder ): there’s this fic…# 3
Hi! I've been thinking about this fic for a while and I can't seem to find it. It's a very angsty story. I think it takes place in California. Dean and Cas are former foster kids who grew up next to each other. Dean, in a more normal house with Ellen or Missouri, as his parent. Cas was in a house with many other kids and had an abusive foster parent (Azazel/Allistar?) that he eventually has to kill to stop him from hurting the younger children. Cas eventually just disappears from Dean's life, but returns to the home when he finds out that Dean's foster mother is sick or recently died? The fic bounces between past and present. I hope those are the details, it's been a while since I've read it. Hopefully someone can remember what it is. Thank you!
Ask #4 ( @loveagoodstory2 ): there’s this fic…# 4
4.1 Hello I’m looking for a fic I read some time ago. In this story Dean takes a job as Cas companion. He saves Cas at a party by bringing him a phone call. Dean has a bad panic attack in the shower and Gabe helps him. I think Cas owes a security company.
4.2 There is also another one where Dean catches Cas in bed with Meg and it’s so heartbreaking. (He was able to catch them because he was driving a different car) Gabe and Sam are at the divorce proceedings with them because Dean had to go through therapy. Gabe feels bad because he introduced them.
Ask #5 ( @heynow-urarockstar ): there’s this fic…# 5
Hello! Really hoping you can help me find a destiel fic set around season 7. Sam and Dean find Cas from the lake all wounded and take him back to patch him up. Leviathans are after them, Sam keeps seeing Lucifer, and lots of Cas-whump as they move around a bunch. Cas is blind for a majority of the fic. Been looking for it for weeks! I think word count is around 60-100k words.
Ask #6 ( @trueastoast): there’s this fic…# 6
A while back I read a longer kinda slow burn fic where destiel were childhood or highschool friends later turned lovers. They get married later in life and foster to adopt a little girl then when she’s older they foster a troubled preteen boy the Cas thinks might be a lost cause but Dean puts in the work and they bond over past parental trauma and fishing. Wish I could remember the name I just know it was an AU with a sprinkle of internalized homophobia in the beginning of their relationship and disagreements over adoption later. Any tips appreciated!
Other requests
Ask #7 - our follower is looking for a possibly deleted fic, “Castiel Takes Care of Dean Winchester” by asexualclassicist on AO3.
Ask #8 - our follower is looking for a possibly deleted fic, “I’ve got a Bad Case of Lovin’ you” by HigherMagic.
Ask #9 - our follower is looking for a possibly deleted fic "Castiel's Scars" by Martypom.
It takes a village to find a lost fic, every reblog is appreciated!
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Js realized I never posted this guy but I have ocs other than Nico I swear lmaoo
This is Noah, formerly known as Micah Vance before he got fucked over by slender man as they all do and ws hit with a healthy dose of cloud strife style retrograde amnesia + identity theft.
Full character file and details under the cut! Be warned– it’s LONG:
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘ ‘ did you say something, what’d you say?... ‘ ‘
‘ ‘ was that your voice, or was that me? ‘ ‘
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
N A M E
Noah Rivers
A L I A S
The ghost
A G E
22
G E N D E R
Male, he/him
S E X
Male
Noah is a human operator proxy.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I've never been fucking scared of you," He snapped, and Noah grabbed his jaw.
"I've always hated that."
"What?"
"How often you lie through your fucking teeth."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
A P P E A R A N C E
The most notable thing about Noah is his mask. It's drawn over crudely with charcoal, smudged all over, black around the eyes, the nose, the mouth. But the features are visible. The nose is sharp and angular, and the lips are drawn in a thin line. He wears it so often it's more like his face than his actual face. The only time he takes it off is when he's asleep, and sometimes not even then. His actual face, the one under the mask, has a scar that drags from above his right eyebrow down across his nose to his left jawline. His face is slim, angular, edges hazy against a monochromatic color scheme. The structure of his face is proportionate but it’s usually frowning, brows furrowed, mouth cut into a scowl. His features look like they were cut from alabaster or marble. Would’ve been pretty, maybe, in another universe. His eyes should've been black, but one of them is blinded, grayed over, and the other seems perpetually suited for low light. They are upturned, half lidded at a default and followed by bags, lines, and dark circles. They look bruised or dusky in color. He's bad with bright lights. He has black hair, cut choppy and messy, like he did it himself. His skin is so pale it's almost a sort of gray, the kind that suggests he doesn't see sun often. Lips chapped and dry, always cracked and bleeding, same with his hands, long black nails he likes painting for a reason he can't fully explain. They make his already slender fingers appear longer than they are. Almost clawlike. Noah is thin. He's tall, taller than he remembers, standing at 5’11”. He's built like an alley cat, all sinew and muscle, sharp shoulders, sharp bones. Scars all over his body. Some are new, from fights, other's he's had before he can remember in odd, purposeful places.
V O I C E
Baritone
Rough, and unused. When speaking his voice is barely above a whisper. He’s one of those people with a voice so low you have to lean in to listen. There’s an edge to his tone, a slight southern drawl. Sometimes the things he says sound more like they’re coming from a machine than a person. His voice is muffled when it’s under the mask, he compensates by being slightly louder.
S C E N T
His scent isn’t something that’s easy to pinpoint. It’s almost sterile, but not hospital sterile. He kind of smells like the woods.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘ ‘ how many times did i tell you
before it finally got through? ‘ ‘
‘ ‘ you lose. ‘ ‘
‘ ‘ you lose. ‘ ‘
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
C O M B A T
Noah has heightened strength and speed, but he’s still human. A human that ignores the capabilities of his own body, but human nonetheless. He’s a skilled fighter, can hold his own against nearly anyone when weapons aren’t involved. He doesn’t like knives. Helpless with them, helpless against them. Noah is a firearms sort of guy. Always has a gun on him, either a pistol, or when he’s hunting he has a rifle. He’s interesting during fights. A textbook masochist. Pain doesn’t elicit the same reaction from him as it would for most other people. At best, he’ll ignore it, at worst, he’s drunk on it.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Noah doesn’t remember much about his life before meeting the operator, if anything. There are glimpses of a history that doesn’t feel like his in the back of his mind, or when he’s half asleep, or when his brain turns off and he isn’t really thinking. Those are his favorite moments. Where he can pretend he isn’t himself. He’s a murderer. He’s quiet, and secretive, and temperamental. What might’ve at one point been a charming persona, dulled and narrowed itself down to a chassis unrecognizable to people who knew him when he was younger. He’s quick to anger. Restless when things are calm, and when he feels alright. He’s never actively antagonistic, but he doesn’t like other people, and his skin itches for instability. He can never hold down a relationship. Of any kind, platonic, romantic. Always ends up ruining it somehow. And he likes it that way. He doesn’t even know why he’s so angry, he just is. His internal world is indecipherable, even to him. He’s constantly mixing things up, getting things wrong, getting distracted, forgetting things. Which is strange, because in the abstract he’s intelligent. There are moments where it seems like he’s lucid, and he’s calm, easy going, likable, even. He has a dry sense of humor that on boys like him feel more charismatic than it actually is. But the neuroticism always comes back eventually. He isn’t Noah without the neuroticism. Maybe he isn’t Noah at all.
B A C K S T O R Y
He isn't. He grew up as a boy named Micah. A different person, honestly. Relatively normal, all things considered. Had parents, friends, a boyfriend, people that cared about him. A trajectory that should’ve been normal. He would’ve graduated highschool, gone to college, him and his boyfriend would break up and he’d marry a girl, or they wouldn’t and they’d end up together only to divorce later, or something. He thought domestic bliss was a stupid concept. Would give anything for it now.
The operator in his hometown was a story you told to kids. They called him the thin man. Micah and his friends would play in the woods on the outskirts of Haven, hunt for bird eggs, mark fake trails, the woods were sparse enough to not really worry about getting lost or losing each other, you could walk in any direction and reach a clearing in half an hour, or so, until you reached the deepwood, but no one went in there. Not even him. Haven was famous for having people go into that part of the woods and never come out. They said it’s because it was so disorienting, that you could walk in without even realizing it, and before you know it all the branches look the same and you can’t see a path. But when he was nineteen he went in. And he met the reason why no one ever really left those woods.
The concept of a proxy was weird to him. Someone that worked for an invisible force of nature you couldn’t see, but you could feel, and Micah felt him in the form of thick static at the back of his neck. Then again, he was drugged the entire time. It might’ve been that. The man who’d kidnapped him was named Noah. He was older, had a limp, a face he covered up by some sort of mask. Micah couldn’t remember. But he remembered his hands. They were unstable, shook constantly, leathery skin, or maybe gloves. Felt like fire. He remembered the way they’d palpitate when he took a blade, dragged it down his face, or somewhere else on his body. And this man, Micah would think to himself in a sedated haze, would use those hands to kill him. There was no universe where he got out of here in one piece.
The brain does fascinating things under extreme trauma. Noah would’ve made a brilliant psychiatrist in the 50s, because he’d triggered an artificial disassociation in Micah that helped him survive the ordeal at all. Mind over matter, he’d think, over, and over, and over, mind over matter. If he liked how much it hurt it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d make himself like it. If he missed home, his boyfriend’s stupid face so much he wanted to die, he’d tell himself he didn’t miss any of it at all. Where was he now? They’d gotten into a fight the last time he remembered, he wasn’t looking for him, wouldn’t save him, it was a waste of energy he didn’t have the luxury to sacrifice. The sedative helped. He didn’t know what it was. Some sort of depressant. His mind reeled, ran, sludged, brain into liquid. He wondered if Noah did this to everyone. Whatever that static was, it never shut up. A constant, ear grating buzz. Red noise. He’d get sick, Noah would laugh at him. He hated Noah. Hated Noah’s voice, his shaking hands, the smug sort of way he’d talk to him like he’d already won, like he’d already killed him. And he really should’ve. Noah was arrogant. Didn’t think he needed a gun for him, even though he had dozens lining the wall of his basement, an arsenal. And he didn’t. It wouldn’t have been difficult to kill someone locked to a chair and half awake. He was just an idiot. Let Micah slip out, let him kill him. His death was anticlimactic. A face pumped full of lead, features torn asunder. But the static was too loud all of a sudden, and he was nauseous, and his vision dimmed.
The amnesia paired itself with some delusion disorder, courtesy of the operator, he’d realize. He didn’t recognize his face, or his body, a perpetual state of psychosis, of dysphoria. Noah was the strongest thing in his mind. The last thing he really remembered. Maybe that’s why he latched onto the name. The memory of him. Or a voice he didn’t recognize told him it was him, that it was the only thing he made sense. This was Noah’s cabin, he recognized it, recognized the rooms, the temperature, the basement, the bloody, empty spot on the floor where something should’ve been. And then Noah’s cabin turned into his cabin. Noah’s mind turned into his mind. Some things scared him. He didn’t understand why his hands didn’t shake anymore, why he couldn’t stand to see his own face. But he clings to anything familiar. The thin man is familiar. He does what it tells him to.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
“you had no right to kill him.”
A voice said, from nowhere and everywhere all at once, register so alien and low it made his heart flatten to the pit of his stomach.
“a life for a life. your kind values equivocal exchange, no?”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
#creepypasta#art#artists on tumblr#creepypasta art#artwork#digital art#creepypasta fanart#digital artwork#digital painting#slenderverse#slenderverse oc art#creepypasta oc#creepypasta oc art#oc#original oc#original character#original charater art#creepypasta original character#Noah rivers#slasher oc#nicowrites#nicoarts#nicocantshutup
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is a personal rant about my thoughts on Greek mythology retellings, and just the way Fantasy books and the publishing industry is at this point 🧍♀️
I have nothing against Greek mythology retellings, or just anything Greek mythology related in fantasy in general!
However, I have certain gripes about the way Greek mythology is portrayed in media, specifically in the way its interpreted in Fantasy.
[ More under the cut! ]
I love Percy Jackson, and I think that Uncle Rick did a wonderful job at expanding the world and making Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Norse mythology entertaining and easily digestible for young audiences. Genuinely, he does a better job at writing children's books than R*wling could ever be capable of.
However, as much as I can love PJO as much as I do, I still find certain bits of the world building and character writing as... Very hit and miss.
To start, I don't like the way Ares was written in the series. I can understand that it would make sense for his personality to be that way, because he's the God of War and it helps with Clarisse's character development; but I find fault in it because Ares in the myths is nothing like PJO Ares. (He literally killed one of Poseidon's sons because he raped his daughter, Alcippe, and he's one of the only gods who doesn't hump anything that can breathe in air. At least Ares has the courtesy of asking for consent 💀)
The Gods being the reason behind WWII and Hitler being a child of Hades. All I must say.
The portrayal of the Aphrodite cabin
The fact that Athena can have children. Annabeth, pjo fandom at large, I love you are, but you gotta admit it must've felt weird when you first read the books and you find out Athena — the maiden Goddess of Wisdom — can have offspring. Regardless of the reasoning, I still find it weird 😭 (EDIT: I've now just remembered that it was a reference to how Athena herself was created 🤡 I'm a clown)
I get that the Hermes cabin is also the cabin for the unclaimed, but couldn't have Hestia's cabin worked too? She doesn't have offspring, sure, but it probably would've made more sense for the unclaimed to go to Hestia's cabin so that the Hermes cabin wouldn't be so crowded
This isn't really a world building issue, but I think I should bring it up: I'm not saying this against the Kane Chronicles fandom, but... Sadie and Anubis. Why. Like you can't convince me that no one WASN'T weirded out by that.
Less of a complaint and more of a question because I can't remember if the question was answered in HoO or not, but when Percy told the Gods to start claiming their unclaimed children and be more decent parents (as he should, go off king), did that request apply to the Romans at Camp Jupiter too? Because that's gotta have been confusing when the unclaimed kids at CP suddenly started getting claimed 😭😭
I could go on a whole ass tangent about PJO, but that would make this post longer than it needs to be 😭😭 and any of the points might not make much sense, since I haven't read the books in a LONG time
Off to the YA Fantasy segment... Hoo boy.
The oversaturation of Hades/Persephone retellings makes me SEETHE. Why is it always Hades and Persephone why can't it be something else 😭
I just don't like the “modern feminist” retellings of Greek myths in the YA Fantasy genre, in general. They tend to completely miss the point of the original myth, and it's the case with a lot of Hades and Persephone retellings where they try to paint Hades as the good guy taking Persephone away from her control freak mother, Demeter.
Because that wasn't what the myth was about. The myth isn't a love story, at least, not a romantic one. It was about Demeter's love for Persephone and how much she wanted her daughter back after Hades stole her away. Keep in mind, in the historical context of the myth, the daughters of women in ancient Greece never really get to see their mothers after their engagements are solidified.
If they wanted to make a “feminist” retelling of the myth, they'd have it centered around the love Demeter had for Persephone to almost doom the mortal realm to an eternal winter to get her back.
I love the myth of Hades and Persephone, truly, I do. I understand the appeal it has on people, the appeal it has one me. I can see why people adore the myth in the way they do because Hades is one of the better husbands in Greek mythology (a low bar, but my point still stands).
Personally, I blame Lore Olympus and especially the video of the myth by Overly Sarcastic Productions for the way the myth is portrayed in mass media. And I say this as a former LO fan and a fan of Overly Sarcastic Productions 😭
I'd also want to go into my many, MANY gripes about “Crown of Starlight” by Cait Corrain, but in all honesty? I don't think I can properly convey how much I DESPISE Cait and their book. So I'd highly recommend y'all to check out the videos about Cait Corrain by Reads With Rachel, WithCindy, and Xiran Jay Zhao on YouTube if you're interested in going into more detail about the controversies, especially for those who weren't made aware of it.
I feel like the publishing industry just... Isn't good anymore, after Booktok went viral. Reading has been “hot girlified”, and all Booktok seems to ask when they get recommended a book is: “Is it spicy??”
Reading is like fast fashion, now. It's all based around certain popular tropes that that's how books are promoted now. Not for the plot — or sometimes lack thereof — but for the tropes the book has.
The only thing I can thank Booktok for is that they helped me discover The Cruel Prince. And even then, it's marketed as romance on there, when it's a political fantasy with a romance subplot.
‼️ Woah! A secret bonus section! ‼️
I, personally, don't read — nor do I like — Sarah J Maas. (Especially considering the problematic aspects of her storytelling, character portrayals, and is (apparently, correct me if I'm wrong) a Zionist)
However, that isn't to say that I don't like some of the characters she makes. A lot of them have potential, actually! From what I've seen, I think Nesta, Gwyn, Azriel, Eris, Tamlin and Lucien from ACOTAR are the only characters I actually like, based on what I've heard — and seen — on anything in the SJM critical tag on this hellsite.
And while we're at it, let's discuss the elephant in the room with ACOTAR, right? Rhysand.
By all that is good and holy, I hate Rhysand so much and I think I'd hate him even more if I actually READ the books. I don't get why Booktok is so invested in him when Maas retconned Tamlin's character to make him look better as Feyre's love interest.
Also, from what I recall, didn't Rhysand sexually assault Feyre? And he didn't bother to apologize for it, and justified it with his sad tragic backstory??
I can't with y'all, istg 😭 the fact that “Feysand” is apparently a Hades and Persephone retelling too makes me even more mad about it because it isn't even a GOOD retelling. It just takes away what ACOTAR originally was— a Beauty and the Beast retelling, with Feyre and Tamlin as the leads.
Didn't Maas dedicate ACOTAR to her husband because “He would go under the mountain” for her??? BECAUSE IT CERTAINLY WASN'T RHYSAND WHO SAVED FEYRE FROM UTM, I'LL TELL YOU THAT
I think, out of all the series Maas has made thus far, Throne of Glass is the only one I ACTUALLY kind of like, based on what I've heard. Crescent City seems to be too complicated to understand, and even though I've never read it myself, I miss what ACOTAR could've been. (My hope lies with Nesta, Elucien and Gwynriel, at this point)
#rosie is rambling 💀#rosie rambles#booktok#anti booktok#anti sjm#pjo#rick riordan#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#tog#throne of glass#acotar#acotar critical#pro nesta#pro gwynriel#anti lore olympus#lore olympus#anti rhysand#anti feysand#pro feylin#the hot girlification of reading#crown of starlight#sjm critical#book rant#its ranting time
26 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
elementalherobubblebutt
Useless Porn Pig
bugcouncil
unsafe, insane & consensual
createworks-blog
Live & Spend Smartly
fcarlcssncss
like calls to like
rajasekhargastro
Untitled