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blaisenova · 2 days

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ermmmm like i dunno if you're still doing requests buttt could you do like kustard but it turns to dustard

that dynamic always interested me but i never see much about it :3

anon, has anyone ever told you that you're a genius?

the kustard to dustard pipeline is WOEFULLY UNEXPLORED. WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD. so, naturally, i was REALLY excited when i got this ask. yippie!!! an excuse to write fun fucked up dynamics!!!!!

this one is pretty tame. i can't think of any warnings you might need other than it being like..... long and, obviously, kinda angsty. it's fluffy in the end tho. but that's what you get when you ask me to write i guess LOL

thank you all for the requests btw!! i was NOT expecting so many after the kist fic, but i am pleasantly surprised and am trying to chip away at them as quickly as i can. spat this one out in a few hours, so it might not be my best work, but i'm happy with how it turned out either way :)

as always, the link to this fic on ao3 will be in the reblogs once it's posted, if that's your cup of tea (as it is mine LMAO)

i hope this feeds you well anon. thank you for the ask <3

It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place.

Or, at least, that was what Red had wholeheartedly believed up until he’d met his other self, in a universe that was so very unlike his own. A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.

Initially, Red hated Sans.

It felt ridiculous, looking back upon it – in the moments when his head lay in Sans’ lap and gentle fingers traced over his scars like they were poetry written in a language Red had never bothered to learn, and he wondered what Sans saw in him that he hadn’t seen; wondered if this was what it felt like to love himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d grown were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Sans wasn’t so much like hating himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.

Really, Sans was so unsuspecting that Red had been foolish enough to let his guard down, forgetting that then was when feeling was the most liable to appear.

He hadn’t expected to fall in love with the laugh – genuine, unabashed, and lacking all of the gruffness of his own – of someone whose humour was just as terrible as his own.

He’d been far too blind to realise how incredibly endearing it was for someone to wake up and allow themselves to be bleary and half-asleep, cuddling into his arm without even meaning to, even if it meant opening themselves up to being easily picked off.

In allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would bleed him dry so tenderly and lovingly that he couldn’t even think to fight against the bloodloss; when, instead, he’d lean into the knife and ask them to twist it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.

Though, it was a small price to pay to hear that raucous laughter over jokes that weren’t even funny. Trivial, really, in comparison to soft smiles and gentle touches that moved slowly just to prove to him how tender the world could really be.

“Earth to Red.”

A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. For once, it was, just to be soft.

“Come in, Red.”

There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.

Tiredly, he bat away the hand that waved in front of his sockets, only to grab it by the wrist and pull it back down, firmly, on the crown of his skull. With a laugh, the fingers scratched gentle circles into the bone, and Red hummed happily at the feeling, allowing his sockets to slip shut as he lay against Sans’ legs.

“Where’d you go, space cadet?”

“Nowhere,” he grumbled, sighing softly as he fully relaxed into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”

Again, there was that laugh, and Red’s soul fluttered. “With your eyes open?”

“It’s a little known talent of mine,” he hummed.

“Gee, must be handy,” came the response, and amusement never sounded so beautiful. “You’ll have to teach me sometime.”

“Nuh uh,” and he couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “It’s genetic.”

“Ah, damn. Guess we gotta add that to the list of differences.”

“Guess so.” His breath hitched as the hand on his head trailed downward to cup his cheek. His browbones furrowed, ever so slightly, and he felt himself go tense.

“Hey. Look at me.”

After a moment, Red opened his sockets, and there was no sight more welcome than the face of his lover. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment: smooth bone, unmarred by chips and cracks; eyelights that glowed softly in dark sockets, like how he imagined fireflies might; ever present, gentle smile that smoothed away his worries. Oh, to be so untouched by cruelty. He’d do anything to keep it that way.

“‘Sup,” he breathed, and Sans’ smile widened as he snorted.

“‘Sup,” he returned. His thumb ran circles over his cheek, and Red leaned into the touch. “You okay?”

With a snicker, he rolled his eyelights at the question. “Super duper.”

Despite himself, Sans laughed too, but, still, pressed on. “You sure? You were spacing out pretty bad before. Like, way out in deep space,” he emphasised, unnecessarily. “No planets around, just stars. Way beyond our galaxy. Uncharted territory. Where no man has gone before.”

“Alright, alright, I get the picture” Red interrupted, though not without chuckling. “‘M okay. Was just thinking.”

When Sans’ head cocked to the side, Red couldn’t help but grin. “About?”

“Uranus.”

At first, his sockets simply narrowed, confused, then all at once, “Ura– Oh. Alright, perv. Har har.”

But, he was laughing, and Red was, too, like it was the funniest joke in the world despite it not even being funny. Maybe it didn’t matter, if Red was the one to say it; if Sans was the one to laugh. Maybe, then, it could be good, even if it wasn’t, really. The sound of their laughter, something shared and sacred, was what Red imagined it might feel like to hear the birds chirp when the sun rose and turned the sky whatever colours it was supposed to when it drove the night away. He hoped that it was blue, like Sans’ favourite colour, but the pictures in his textbooks were too faded to be sure.

When he tuned back in, the laughter had tapered off.

“You do that a lot, y’know,” Sans noted, almost absentmindedly, and his hands turned back to trailing shapes on Red’s skull.

He grunted at the feeling. “Do what?”

“Go to space,” Sans said, simply. “Or… somewhere else. That I can’t reach.”

Red frowned, closing his sockets to cut off the dull thrum of agony he felt in his soul whenever Sans’ smile didn’t reach his eyes like that. “I do it less than I used to. It used to be better, somewhere else – anywhere else – but ‘m not so sure anymore.”

“Where would you wanna go?” he asked, in a whisper. “If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

For a moment, Red considered. The answer would have been easy before – the surface, of course. Where Paps and every other monster longed to be – but access to the multiverse had opened up options that he’d never known existed. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden, why should he want to look for it anywhere else?

“Think I’d rather just stay here,” he hummed. “With you.”

Maybe he should have questioned the way that Sans’ hands stilled at his answer. Maybe he should have opened his eyes; looked at his face; seen his expression; known what it meant.

But, he didn’t.

“Geez,” Sans breathed, with a laugh that sounded breathless. “My answer feels stupid in comparison.”

“Yeah? What’s yours?”

“Anywhere else. Anywhere at all.”

In hindsight, Red should have known it was too good to last; too good to stay good.

A universe where the typical LOVE of any given passerby was nothing higher than 1; where Sans and his brother were kind to one another in public; where there was so little need for the royal guard that the worst Sans got for sneaking off to Grillby’s during his shift was a slap on the wrist. It was difficult to believe that a place like that could exist – that it could be self-sustainable, since, logically, their weakness should have led to their downfall – and even harder to look at it as anything more than a childish fantasy that had yet to find its catch.

Of course, there was a catch.

There was always a catch. Every childish fantasy grew tainted with time, like the innocence of children was stripped with age. Every fairy tale book grew weary and old, pages yellowed and frayed. Every picture faded, until you couldn’t be sure whether the sky was blue or grey.

But, you hoped it was blue anyway, and maybe that was your mistake.

It was undeniable that the multiverse was an entirely cruel and ruthless place. That was what Red wholeheartedly believed. Maybe, after all, there was a reason that love and LOVE were spelled the same.

Try as he might, though, Red could not hate him.

It felt ridiculous – in the moments when hands clamped around his neck like a vice, choked by the grip and the grief that came with it, as if the two were one in the same, and they would both cry, both tremble in fear, or fury, or something worse, and Red would think that this was what it was like to hate himself – but it was the truth. It had taken him a while to understand that the circumstances in which they’d changed were enough to turn them into two different people; that hating Dust wasn’t so much like loving himself, or what he could have been, as he wanted it to be.

Really, Red had underestimated Dust as he had been before; had assumed that kindness meant the incapacity for cruelty.

And, in allowing someone into his blindspot that he’d believed to be too weak or foolish to use it against him, he’d failed to remember that it was the softest words that cut the deepest, when they would leave scars so deep that all he could think of was how much he missed the feeling; when he’d search for the knife and throw himself against it. The wound was soul deep, and the soul’s wounds could not be so easily ignored.

Before, he’d thought it was a small price to pay. Trivial, really, in comparison to what he had to gain from it. As if it were a simple transaction as opposed to something living, and breathing, and ever changing; as if he would never have to be the one who was tender; as if that made it anything less valuable.

“Red.”

A soul for a soul; a life for a life. They gave one another all of themselves, promised each other that it was enough, and it was. Just as before, it was. Harsher now, but Dust had taught Red to be soft, and Red would teach him what he’d forgotten.

“Red.”

There was gentleness in the multiverse, hidden until it was allowed in.

With a jolt, he came back to reality to a slap on the face, not hard enough to hurt, but more than enough to be startling. He frowned, but, nonetheless, took his hand by the wrist and guided it to the crown of his skull. Hesitantly, as if spurred on by some muscle memory, the fingers ran in gentle circles across his bone, and Red hummed in approval at the feeling as he lay against Dust’s legs.

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” he mumbled, unconsciously leaning into the touch. “Must’ve dozed off.”

“With your eyes open,” Dust said, and it wasn’t a question. “Freak.”

Immediately, Red snorted. “Guess we gotta add that to the list of similarities.”

Despite himself, Dust laughed; the sound short, subdued, and nothing like the laugh he’d fallen in love with, but something about it made his soul flutter, nonetheless. “Guess so.”

After a moment, Red opened his sockets. Each time he saw him was like the first, and Red drank in each of his features as if they’d disappear at any moment – as they had before – smooth bone that crackled and buzzed with magic, refusing to be underestimated; eyelights that glowed brightly in dark sockets, like how he imagined neon signs would on a city street in the middle of the night; a face shrouded by shadow, as if it was saved for him alone to see. In the end, he’d been marred by cruelty despite Red’s best efforts, but he was beautiful nonetheless.

“‘Sup,” Dust mumbled, and the edges of his mouth quirked up in an attempt at a smile.

Slowly, Red lifted his hand and, ever so gently, cupped Dust’s cheek, pausing when his breath hitched, but, with the same caution, Dust leaned into the touch; barely enough to be noticed, but Red noticed. This time, he saw. “‘Sup,” he finally returned. “You okay?”

“You’re going to disappear,” Dust whispered, and his voice broke on the words in a way that made Red feel hollowed out. “You’re going to go somewhere else. Somewhere that I can’t reach. Like you do when you go to space. It scares me.”

Browbones furrowed, Red ran gentle circles across his love’s cheek, staying silent as Dust took in a shuddering breath to continue; a quirk Red had grown accustomed to.

“I remember what you told me before,” he said, and his hand came up to desperately hold Red’s to his face, like he might forget it was there if he didn’t make sure. “That you did it because it was better to be somewhere else – anywhere else. Do you want that now? To be somewhere else? Away from me?”

“No,” Red said, and the lack of hesitation in his answer surprised even himself. “I don’t want that.”

Again, Dust’s breath hitched, and he frowned, like the answer wasn’t enough, and, maybe, it wasn’t. His fingers threaded between Red’s, and, when he clutched onto his hand, Red squeezed back, holding him with desperation to match. Dust laughed, a breathless sound. “I’m not the person that you loved.”

Scoffing, Red rolled his eyelights at the notion. “Of course you are.”

“I’m not,” Dust insisted, and something about it was a plea.

“Then,” he breathed, “I love you. This you.”

And, with a breath that was cut off with something that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Dust leaned forward – over Red’s body, as if to trap him – and pressed his chest against Red’s. His ribs fluttered with each breath, and Red guided his stuttering breaths with deep inhales that interlocked their ribs with each one. His hand remained stuck to Dust’s cheek, and he squeezed gently, relieved when Dust squeezed back to let him know he was still here; in this reality, not another.

“Breathe,” Red commanded, soft; soft, like he’d been taught. “I’m here.”

Dust took a heaving breath – deep, frantic, like he’d been drowning – and, in a voice that sounded so much like before – reminding Red once more that this was the person he loved, despite the change – he whispered, “Where would you wanna go? If you could go anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

The question made him sputter, for a moment. Then, with a breathless laugh, “Seriously?”

“Please,” he pleaded, so what could Red do but answer?

The answer would have been easy before – here; here, just like before – but, despite how they fought against it, things had changed. Did that mean his answer had to change? That his longing had to shift, too? The multiverse was infinite. If he could conceive of a place, it surely existed, somewhere. Maybe even somewhere that Sans stayed Sans, but would it be the same? Any place. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. But, if kindness was so thoroughly hidden – had been ripped from Dust’s grasp with the signature ruthlessness of the multiverse – then why shouldn’t Red be it? Like Dust had been for him, before.

“Think I’d like to stay here,” he hummed. “With you. Still.”

And, this time, Red noticed the way that Dust’s breathing slowed to a stop; felt the way that his magic crackled between his joints; how something wet slipped between their fingers on Dust’s cheek; knew what it meant.

“Okay,” Dust whispered.

“What about you? Where would you go?”

There was a pause – a moment as Dust inhaled once more; held Red’s hand tight, but oh, so gentle – before he managed to answer. “Here,” he said. “With you.”

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scottmemelordstrashpile · 13 hours

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Survivor Tessa AU (Murder Drones AU Concept???) [Episode 7 Spoilers]

So, you know when you want to make an AU but you also don't want to dedicate to the grueling process of actually writing a story and writing how we got to this part? No? Just me?

Well, regardless here are a couple of potential examples of scenes that could have unfolded

had Tessa been a survivor of the fall of Earth. I guess these are just concepts for potential scenes or something?

Unlikely Alliance

N: Fine. You're right. Maybe I'm not the real N. So I won't pretend to be. But that doesn't mean we can't help eachother! I want the patch to save Uzi, you want it to defeat Cyn. We can make this work!

Tessa: ... *Sigh* Fine. It would be smarter to work as a team for now I suppose.

*Suddenly Tessa presses the barrel of her gun right against the side of N's head*

Tessa: But I swear... if you even dare THINK, of trying to cross me... I'll kill both of you. Understand?!

N: Y-Yes... m'am.

Tessa: Good.

I Found You Faker

*The scene with "Tessa" and Uzi at the chapel unfolds the same until-*

"Tessa": No worries, makes my job easier.

*BANG*

*A gunshot reverberates throughout the chapel as a bullet rips through the back of "Tessa's" helmet and ejecting through her visor leaving a bulletwound behind*

*"Tessa" collapses to the ground bleeding heavily revealing the real Tessa standing behind her with a smoking gun*

Tessa: You must think you're real funny, huh Cyn? Running around impersonating me?!

Uzi: W-What?! W-Who?!

Tessa: Shut it! I'm getting to you. Where is the patch!?

Uzi: The what?!

Tessa: Don't have it? Bloody hell... Then who does?!

The Patch

*N reaches out expecting Tessa to hand over the crucifix usb but she steps back, drawing her gun on N with the other hand*

N: Tessa?

Tessa: No.

N: I-I thought you finally trusted me?!

Tessa: Trust you?! Please! You and that little monster took everything from me! Oh! But you weren't satisfied with just that! Now you oughta' go and destroy everything else while you're at it! Huh?!

N: Tessa... please-

Tessa: No. I won't let you have it. It means too much to me!

*Tessa clutches the crucifix tightly*

Tessa: This, this might be my only chance of finally destroying her. And I won't let you take it away from me too!

N: But... I thought... I thought we were friends.

Tessa: ... No. I was friends with the real N. Not you... You're just a fake...

N: ... Fine. I don't care what happens to me, but please! You have to help Uzi!

Tessa: Why should I? Doesn't she want to kill us all too?! Don't think I didn't overhear that. I'm onto you lot. Can't trust anyone but myself anymore. I learned from my past mistakes...

Old Enemies

Tessa: Fine... just do it already. Finish it!

Cyn: "Manical Laughter" I promised I wouldn't kill you, didn't I? Besides, I wouldn't get the satisfaction of watching you suffer if I do.

Cyn: ... But, there's still a chance. The Solver is pretty chill, maybe you could like join us or something.

Tessa: I'd rather DIE than to serve you!

Cyn: Oh well, it was worth a try. Have fun watching everything you know and love die for the second time. Loser.

I dunno what to call this one but I couldn't not include

*To Tessa most likely*

Cyn: I won't kill you and you can't kill me. I guess we can just sit in this room and glare at eachother until somebody drops dead. But I have a better idea.

End

I don't know what to call this. A proof of concept or something? I don't know. Because sadly I'm too lazy in addition to just not having enough time to make a full genuine AU about this but I thought the idea was interesting so I dunno, if people with more dedication or time on their hands want to steal these ideas for stories, art whatever. I don't care. You don't even need to tag me or credit me or anything.

Basically in general the idea of this AU as I said at the start is the idea of the real Tessa having survived the destruction of the Earth. Now she's hellbent on destroying Cyn whom she perceives as the one that took everything and everyone she loved away from her.

She doesn't trust the disassembly drones in the slightest, not seeing them as her friends from the manor but as crude mockeries of her friends created by Cyn.

Cyn treats the entire thing like a game. Think of it like a sort've reverse Batman and Joker where Cyn refuses to kill Tessa due to her promise to not discard her. However all it does is fuel Tessa's unending rage when she laughs in her face and tosses her aside.

As for Tessa herself I like to imagine she's missing at least one hand and maybe even an eye. Of course her missing hand being replaced with a cybernetic one. (Definitely not a Berserk reference.)

That's about it. I imagine her personality would be totally different from Episode 5 Tessa as well. She'd probably still have funny moments or one liners but in general she'd probably be a lot more deadpan and monotone. When she's not being "Girl too angry to die" anyway. I imagine her in contrast to her past self being very quiet, cold and distant. Not wanting to be hurt again by becoming too attached to those around her.

All she wants is REVENGE. (You could even play with the idea of this desire slowly turning her into a monster too if you want to be really angsty with it.)

I imagine for the most part things would play out MOSTLY the same but with the added element of real Tessa also landing on Copper-9 to find the patch before Cyn (Disguised as Tessa) does. I guess serving as a rouge 4th element or something?

EDIT: I also like to imagine the real Tessa looks similar to canon "Tessa" (Which is just the fake Tessa in this version.) but without the stickers, hat and bow on her suit. Maybe a more visible oxygen system on the back too, like one of those big air tanks or astronaut backpacks. Something like that. Could get more creative with it, but yeah that's how I imagine it.

Oh yeah of course also feel free to like... reblog... whatever. Give your thoughts? I guess? I don't know. I just wanted to get these ideas out of my head I guess and this was the most efficient way to do it.

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halliestinks · 1 day

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Hello I love your work, could you write seperate headcanons for kenny & butters with a reader who can’t help but talk a lot and is insecure about it?

Butters & Kenny x Reader who talks a lot (HCS)

a/n: reader is gn, characters are in highschool. this was kinda rushed so sorry if it isn’t the best !

Butters Stotch

• butters absolutely adores it when you rant to him about whatever is on your mind, he simply loves the sound of your voice

• he will occasionally pipe in and add something to the conversation, whether it be his own opinion or rather agreeing with what you’re saying

“and that happened all in one day!!! can you believe that?!”

“wowie! well that’s just the darnedest thing i’ve ever heard!!!”

• you also always fill him in the latest gossip, he’s basically one of the girls at this point. (the other girls usually include him whenever there’s a big shit talking session 🤭)

“and she had the audacity to tell me to calm down 😒”

“well— she sounds like a real bitch to me!!”

“that’s exactly what I said!!!!”

• his jaw drops the moment you apologise for talking too much, immediately reassuring you that you aren’t annoying him at all

“sorry if i’m talking too much..”

“huh?? well don’t be sorry!! I don’t mind at all!!”

“are you sure..? one of the kids I sometimes hang out with told me I talk a lot and I just—“

“y/n!! whoever told you that is just a big ol’ meanie, don’t listen to them. I think you have the most beautiful voice and you need to use it all the time”

“butters.”

“y/n..?”

“I love you so much.”

“aw…!!! well i love you too!! 🤗”

• he says the sweetest things without even realizing it. It’s one of the main things you love about him because you know he’s being completely honest

Kenny Mccormick

• kenny goes completely silent whenever you start your rants, his eyes locked on your lips as he observes every little expression you make

• the way your eyes shine whenever you’re talking about your interests, and the way your nose scrunches up whenever you talk about something/someone you dislike

“and that’s when she told me— kenny?? are you even paying attention??”

“sorry, your lips keep distracting me”

“well pay attention, i’m getting to the good part!”

“you mean the part where we make out? 😝”

“😐”

• other than that, he does really enjoy getting to hear about your day. he just gets sidetracked really easily, sometimes tuning you out while he stares off into the distance

• whenever he does this you always notice, trailing off until you stop talking completely. he picks up on your silence pretty much right after, wondering why you stopped

“what’s wrong?”

“am I talking too much?”

“huh?? where did that come from??”

“this kid got really mad at me today and asked if I knew how to shut up because I apparently never stop talking”

“the fuck??? who told you that? I’ll beat their ass 😠”

“I dunno. they aren’t wrong though, do talk a lot”

“so what? you’re not hurting anyone. fuck them, you can just talk to me. I don’t care that you talk a lot, I love listening to you”

“awww, thanks ken”

“yeah yeah, anyways what were you saying about yesterday?”

• even when it may seem like he isn’t paying attention, he remembers everything you say— down to the minute details. (his favourite part is still once the conversation is over and he gets to kiss you 😙)

#south park x reader #sp x reader #kenny mccormick #south park headcanons #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny x reader #sp butters #butters x reader #butters stotch #south park

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jazzzzzzhands · 9 months

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Paranoid much??

I kept thinking about the very obsessed and dilusional

Question-Answerer!!

His hands are always covered in that stuff! (Ink? Mold?)

(which btw was an absolute DELIGHT to draw!)

He keeps hearing/seeing things, and having strange dreams!

This infection has caused him to loose his mind and now he only cares about finding the answers, no matter the cost..

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sealbatross · 3 months

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#wolfeeee #ac3 #connor kenway #seal art #dunno if anyones interested in stickers of these #I AM LOL

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boinky-spoinky · 2 months

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I can’t take anything serious with this show

#yes I had to draw / include Charlie in the maid outfit 💀 dunno I maybe! draw Charlie in the maid outfit 👀#idk if anyone’s interested in it but whatever I guess 🫡#IM NORMAL OKAY SO UH SHUSH!#I’m going to bed now I’m hella sleepy and tired shut! ❗️#charlie dompler #pim pimling #smiling friends #smiling friends fanart #smiling friends pim #smiling friends charlie #fanart #procreate #procreate art #✨art tag✨

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ashipiko · 29 days

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😔 enstars posting won so </3 my enstars silly…… my widdle boy atsu…. NOT MILGRAM VER. ENSTARS VER!!! WELCOME TO THE ASHIVERSE (there is 9. tehepero)

🫶 here is my boy who suffers w gramp issues. HES SO SILLIES. <3 he’s not a producer but a member of me and my friends’ group named plume!!! THEIR WHOLE THEME IS LIKE BIRDS. SHOWING OFF. FANSERVICE BASICALLY they’re fun

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highfunctioningfleshrule63 · 2 months

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regal talking abt when he first saw mox during fcw

#william regal #jon moxley #dean ambrose #blackpool combat club #i listened to this a while back but im always thinking abt this clip. hearing abt an 'outsiders' perspective of mox's antisocial approach.#regal being the only one to pick him out. and if i remember he talks abt them having similar pasts and demons w substance use. which of #course translates well into their character/kayfabe work during this time since it was supposed to be two kindred fucked up dudes #i dunno if this will matter to anyone else. but hearing regals recount of this. ive felt in a similar spot to mox in professional places in #my life and its so. interesting to imagine having someone in your corner like this

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beulf · 7 months

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so ive only been wading in postal lore for like a couple weeks so maybe everyones already discussed this already, but i was looking at some promo material from 1997 and i got whiplash from realizing postal 1 dude is probably actually a teenager?? like either a high schooler or fresh out of high school???

even without the last image there ^, i was already thinking the language of the interviewee characters felt so "talking about a guy who just graduated", but then the fact that his canon gf is a 17 yo high schooler is like, he must be around the same age??

ive always been a little confused about why he looks like a teenager in the box art photo, but decidedly Not a teenager in all other iterations, including most art for postal 1

but thinking about all this in relation to how his voice lines are labelled as Demon, im thinking that the concept for postal 1 was always that hes a fucked up teenager whos hearing a scary voice that is Not him, but for whatever reason after shipping the game and some time passing they were just like yeah nevermind hes just an adult guy

#postal #postal 1 #postal dude #this is really really interesting to me #like idk i seriously dunno if anyones posted about this before so im sorry if this ground has already been tread #but im like having whiplash at interpreting postal 1 as being very literally abt a hs shooter #mine

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asfodelle · 7 months

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Hello, hello, here's the first scene of the one-shot I've been writing the last few months. It's about a 'He Tian is involved in the mob and returns occasionally tho feelings never leave' situationship neither can walk out of, Mo is a boxer, there's a touch of religious themes, made myself cry writing it, it's a blast.

1. May 5th 7:12 p.m. - Bell

Before leaving the car, He Tian lets out a long sigh, blowing smoke. He should probably get to praying.

The door snaps shut, echoing in the small street he parked in. Past the intersection he hears kids chatting, going home for dinner maybe. He Tian takes a second to watch himself in the reflection of his tinted windows. He readjusts the collar of his shirt, brushes his pants wrinkled from the long hours of driving, throws his hair backwards and the damp air soon gets him to fold his sleeves up. He doesn’t look so bad, he thinks. Tired. He rubs his face with both hands to bring back some color to his cheeks, then under his eyes as if he could dim the blue tint that’s been settling there, but it doesn’t have very conclusive results. He starts walking.

The entrance of the old warehouse is slightly different from the last time he’s seen it. It looks more welcoming, but it might just be a trick of the light. The peach clouds of the spring evening just paint a nicer ambiance than the grey winter sky did, last January. The gates have been adorned by new tags that have been sprayed on top of the old faded ones and there are flyers encouraging people to join the Sunday mass down the street glued all over, though they don’t reach very high. He Tian imagines a troop of old women roaming the streets, spreading the holy word but his little game of guesswork doesn’t help him relax one bit.

He gets in front of the door, a smaller entrance within the large sealed gate that used to let trucks in and out of the warehouse. He grips the handle for a second, takes a long inhale and gets in. His eyes slowly adjust to the dimmer lighting but he quickly notes that, contrary to its facade, the inside of the place hasn’t changed much since the last time he saw it. Between high walls of concrete and sheets of metal lie mismatched sets of equipment. Barbells, slick black punching bags, discolored benches of various sorts, a couple old bikes in the back, punch mitts forgotten over a pile of cardboards. A few training boxing rings give shape to the room, the space between them gives the illusion of corridors. The walls are covered in overlapping posters, the grey disrupted by layers on layers of paint and graffitis that even cover the high windows. They let small rays of tinted light in like the stained glass of a church, though the candles are replaced by tens of flickering LEDs lights. There are a few people here and there, busy with dumbbells or talking in their little spot but the room is so wide they can’t be heard. Stairs crawl by the walls leading to more rooms and places He Tian had never been to. Music resonates, low and muffled from a speaker somewhere in a corner.

In the middle of the room stands another ring, a bright red one standing higher than the rest, with white thick cords. When He Tian sees him, he’s sat there, on the side of the wooden platform the red ring rests on. He's listening attentively to a trio of teenagers, leaning backwards on his hands.

Guan Shan had taken a liking to boxing in high school. A good outlet, he said, one that taught him to measure his emotions. It stuck through the years and he’s been great at it. Then he started giving advice to newcomers, to give some of spare time to help young blood he saw himself in and slowly it transformed into actual lessons and training sessions he holds after work. These kids have been coming here for a couple years now, He Tian remembers them. They are reenacting punches and kicks, arguing and giggling over different combinations and they turn to their coach for approval whenever they get a new idea. He nods along and fixes their posture a couple times, something soft in his eyes. He looks beautiful. Toned and pale as ever, the bare skin of his chest clashes with the black shorts and the tattoos that spangle his body. He Tian stands close to the entrance, leaning cross-armed, his shoulder against a pillar and keeps on watching over him though he struggles to truly appreciate the contrast of colors due to the fifth character in the scene.

A guy he doesn’t know is sitting close to Guan Shan, too close. His hair is an ugly shade of bleached blond and he keeps looking at Guan Shan whenever he speaks with big dumb eyes, mouth agape and enamored. He looks young, but maybe He Tian only feels so much older than his age. He looks stupid.

He Tian hasn’t moved but Guan Shan suddenly lifts his head and catches him right away, as if he’d known all along where he was hiding. The way his eyes widen for a second betray his surprise however but he quickly regains control over his face. It seems like he excuses himself from his little group, the blonde argues something, he wants to follow but he’s brushed away by a dismissing hand.

Guan Shan glances back to He Tian’s shadowy corner and starts moving towards the closed rooms in the back of the building, grabbing a few boxes on the way. He Tian traces behind him with a confident walk and ignores how all of his body stiffens with apprehension, every single muscle a little too tight. Guan Shan enters the room first and He Tian follows a few seconds after. He closes the door behind them. The handle creaks and his hands are sweaty.

It’s not quite messy in here, but the little office room is packed. The desk is covered with stacks of papers, cardboard boxes are neatly piled up in the back of the room; some are already opened and uncover the gloves, the tapes and bandages they hold. The window is open too, letting in the noise of the city. Guan Shan sets the boxes he carried over on top of one of the piles and gets to fumbling in his bag, almost turning his back to the door where He Tian stands.

« Hi. » he tries, and braces himself for what’s coming.

« You know it’s fucking weird creeping in corners like this? »

He Tian pinches his lips in a thin line.

« Why are you here? » Guan Shan asks then, still busying himself in his bag. He doesn’t sound angry, just a little cold, maybe annoyed at the disturbance.

« I’ve got some business to handle in town. »

« I thought you were abroad until September. » Guan Shan muses, finding the shirt he seemed to be looking after, a large black one. He Tian follows his hands and notices he has splatters of white and red paint over his forearms, his short nails are stained too.

« The schedule is never really steady. »

Guan Shan scoffs. He Tian know that’s a first warning but he can’t help but focus on the way his muscles jolt, on the way they flex as he flips the shirt over. He tries to not lose his eyes on the curve of his biceps. It’s a struggle.

« I negotiated a little. » He adds « Took over Cheng’s spot. »

Little negotiations that involved a precarious alliance, three weeks of tailing for intel and a couple of threats. It was worth it.

Carefully, He Tian moves away from the door, closer to Guan Shan. He probably shouldn’t, definitely shouldn’t yet he lifts a hand and reaches out to touch his bare back. Guan Shan freezes.

« I wanted to see you. » he explains, voice low as his knuckles trace the bumps of Guan Shan’s spine. It’s daring. It might earn him a hook but the pull is magnetic.

As their routine dictates, they hadn’t parted in very good terms the last time and for that, coming back to him is always a gamble. A game of Russian roulette even and quite a dangerous version of it; one where he never even knew how many bullets were hidden in the cylinder, each of them taking a different shape. At times He Tian had handled days of scowling looks and a soft kiss that had left him bleeding out, he had received sharp words from petty fights without wincing but just the weight of Guan Shan’s rehearsed indifference could pierce his lungs and leave him breathless. He will take the hits, he does not care. It’s a game they’ve played for years now and as long as the other still accepts to pull the trigger on him, he’d take anything. After all, He Tian is the one who bound the gun to his hand in the first place.

A punch never lands this time. Guan Shan sighs, his shoulders drop then he turns around and throws his arms around He Tian’s neck, knocking the air out of him all the same. He Tian holds back tightly, and finally breathes out, his fingertips digging into hot freckled skin.

« I missed you. » He Tian whispers. What a fucking understatement.

The arms around his neck tighten in response, only for a brief second before they hear loud noise by the door. Their embrace ends as quick as it started, Guan Shan stepping back and turning to put on the shirt he had discarded a second ago. He glares at the door, expecting it to open at any moment but thankfully, the people outside only pass by.

« I’m training the kids all evening, and there’s a party at eleven, but I don’t think it’ll stay long. » Guan Shan says when the room has quieted down enough.

« I’ll pick you up then. »

Guan Shan nods. That should be He Tian’s cue to leave, he has a couple things to settle tonight anyway but the other looks as if he’s pondering over something. He Tian catches how amber eyes roam over his face, for a brief moment they even settle on his mouth, but then return to the door.

« Get lost. » he tells He Tian, tilting his head towards the door but there’s no bite into it.

When He Tian gets back to the car, his cheeks hurt. In the tinted window, his smile might look shy but it’s wider than it’s been in the last four months.

#19 days #19 days fics #my fic #writing wip #tianshan #it's actually a two shot but sshh it's a secret #it's about 70% done #though I was wondering if anyone would be down to beta read it #i dunno if it's still a very common practice but I'd be super interested in feedback #nothing too detailed or time consuming ofc #might make a post about that soon #anyway enjoy my friends #this HT leaving arc is gonna break my heart so im planning on mending it by writing angsty stuff

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