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topazy · 3 months

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Little dark age

Paring: Rick Grimes × reader

Warning: Swearing, zombie guts & blood, mentions of drug use

Chapter: 1.01

“Is Glenn really going down to get that guy?”

“Sure is.”

“Gods,” you groan. “Make sure nobody steals my shit while I’m gone; that idiot is going to need back up.”

With one hand, you keep a steady grip on the shaky ladders while using your free hand to shoot at any dead person that gets too close to Glenn and the new guy. With tiny chips of yellow paint rubbing on your palm, nipping it, you become impatient. “Hurry the hell up!”

Glenn screams as he runs up the side alleyway before climbing up the ladders.

The new guy seemed slightly disoriented and was taking far too long, looking from side to side as the dead started to close in on him. You shoot at the ground beside him, causing him to jump. “Unless you want to die, move! ”

With the extra weight of two grown adults and walkers grabbing at the metal bars below, you shove your gun into your waste bands and quickly start to climb back up to the roof. When Glenn gets to the top, you snatch the baseball cap from his head, causing him to frown.

“Sammi…”

Once you shake off the large spider, Glenn was yet to notice, you toss the baseball cap back to him, “you almost got yourself killed, dumbass.”

“I was saving... the guy in the tank from the geeks.”

“Yeah, well, don’t be surprised if the others are pissed. You’ve just attracted a shitload of walkers.”

When the new guy gets to the top of the ladders, you take in his clothing, a police uniform with a couple of badges on it. You offer him your hand, “sheriff?”

He nods.

Once the new guy is up on the roof, Glenn leads the way back to the hatch and goes to the next building, where the rest of your scavenging group is waiting. Glenn opens and it’s going to step down, then suddenly stops. “There was something on my hat, wasn’t there?”

“No, of course not.”

He shivers before going down first.

—

While Andrea and Morales explain to the new guy that all the noise he made attracted the dead, you continue to shove things that you deem necessary into one of your backpacks. The class surrounding the bottom ground of the store starts to crack with walkers banging on the glass windows.

“I can’t get a signal on the radio,” T-dog says. “We are going—”

He’s cut off by the sound of a gunshot. Another one goes off, and Andrea pinpoints the sourness of the sound, “It’s Dixon.”

You look down at the rest of your group's belongings and frown. You snatch your other bag and begin to storm towards the staircase leading up to the roof. “That bastard has my gun!”

—

Merle laughs when the others tell him to stop firing at the walkers. Holding up the guy, he says, “Hey! You ought to be more polite to a man with a gun! ”

“My gun,” you snap. “You thieving little crackhead.”

Merle was one of the most vile, insufferable men you’d ever met in your life. He blows you a kiss and jumps down from the ledge he’s on. It only takes a matter of seconds for Merle to racially and physically attack T-dog. You try to pull him off but get backhanded, causing your lip to slip open.

Groaning, you push yourself up onto your elbows.

Merle spits on T-dog before standing over him. “Yeah! All right! We’re going to have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who’s in charge. I vote for me. Anybody else?”

From the way his eyes are dilated, you can tell Merle was high on something. You watch as the new guy gets to his feet behind him quickly and creeps up on him.

“Show off your hands, huh? All in favor, huh? Oh, come on. Let’s see them! All in favor?” Merle raises his own hand and points the gun at the others until they copy his actions. “Now that means I’m the boss, right?”

The new guy picks up your gun that Merle tossed and hits him in the face with it, knocking him to the ground. He handcuffs him to one of the metal pipes connected to the ground on the roof.

“Who the hell are you, man?”

“Officer friendly,” he answers, grabbing Merle by the collar of his top. “Things are different now. There are no colored people anymore. No dumb-as-shit, inbred white-trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat. The living and the dead. We survive this by pulling together, not apart.”

“Screw you, man.”

“I can see you have a habit of missing the point.”

“Yeah, well screw you twice.”

The guy presses his gun against Merle’s head. “I ought to be polite to the man with a gun. Only common sense.”

You wipe the metallic-tasting liquid mixed with saliva off your chin with the back of your hand. Glenn hands you a piece of ripped-up fabric. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You get to your feet, go to Merle, and kneel in front of him. “All of Dixon’s common sense was snorted away a long time ago.”

The man tilts Merle’s head back to see traces of white powder stuck to the bottom of his nose while you search his pockets. You pull out a little glass tube of white powder and ask, “What is it, cocaine? Ketamine? Heroin?”

“Put it back, you little bitch!”

“Suppose it doesn’t matter what it is,” you shrug before tossing the tube off the roof.

Merle kicks his legs and roughly pulls at the handcuffs. “When I get out of these cuffs, I’m going to make you pay for that! You fucking cu—”

He abruptly stops talking when the new guy clicks the safety off his gun.

—

You walk around the clothing section of the store to kill some time. With Glenn and Morales gone to scope out a potential way out, there wasn’t a lot left to do.

Hearing footsteps, your hand immediately goes to your handgun, but relaxed it when you realize who it is. “Hey new guy,” you say, putting your hand out. “I didn’t catch your name before.”

He shakes your hand. “It’s Rick, Rick Grimes.”

“Well, Rick, thanks for shutting that asshole up.” You push some clothes around on a clothing rack. “Honestly, if I wasn’t for the fact that I like Merle’s brother, I would have taken a shot at him a long time ago.”

His eyes land on your dog's tags, but he doesn’t ask about them. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Samara Rose Blake, but everyone just calls me Sammie Rose.”

Rick goes to say something but rolls his tongue and shakes his head. You go back to looking through the clothes, fully aware that you’re being observed.

“Do you have kids?” He asks, watching as you pick up two child-sized jackets.

“No, but there’s a couple of kids back at camp, and you can’t go wrong with lightweight jackets. You? I heard you say you’re looking for your family.”

“I have a wife and son, who I haven’t seen since... well, I haven’t seen them in the new world.”

Andrea comes into the room and says, “They're back.”

From the look on her face, you know it’s not good news.

—

“This is a suicide mission,” you grumble.

With the tunnel Morales and Glenn went down being a dead end, the group came up with a new plan. Someone would break into a vehicle, bring it up to the side of the building for the others to get into, and then drive away. The plan was easy enough, except for the part where someone needed to do all this without being spotted by walkers.

“A suicide mission your on, baby,” T says before rubbing zombie guts onto the king white coat that covered most of your body.

Rick had found gloves for everyone to wear while rubbing zombie blood and guts onto Rick, Glenn, and you. The smell was revolting, and the thought of walking outside amongst the dead terrified you, but you were so used to going scavenging with just Glenn that the thought of him going out there without you as backup didn’t feel right. To get the zombie insides on the outside, Rick had to drag a body from outside and cut it up with an ax.

Jacqui places a wooly hat on top of your head and tucks your hair underneath before putting zombie guts on your back.

After a few moments, you slowly twirl. “Do you think we have enough on?”

“Yes,” Andrea says, waving her hand. “You guys smell revolting.”

—

You let out a shaky breath before opening the door to go outside. “I sure hope this plan works; otherwise, I’m throwing you to do the dead first, Rick Grimes.”

“Noted,” he tried to keep a serious tone, but hints of a smile pulled on his face.

Taking a deep breath, you open the door for the three of you to take a gamble on your lives.

Mimicking the dead’s moments, you drag yourself underneath a few vehicles before coping with how they walk. You subtly look at Rick, wondering if he’s the same Rick Grimes you’ve heard Carl and Lori talk about. You thought about asking him before what his kid name was but didn’t want to give him false hope in case it was coincidentally the same.

Oh shit.

The sun disappears behind thick, dark clouds quickly, and rain starts lashing down. Washing the scent of death from your blood-soaked coats.

“The smell is washing off. Isn’t it?” Glenn asks.

"No, it’s not,” Rick says sternly. When a walker's stare lingers on him, he changes his mind and says, “Well, maybe.”

The second you hear a roaring sound, you know your covers are blowing. “Run!”

Rick manages to kill a few zombies with the ax before you reach the fence blocking off the parking lot from the rest of the street. The three of you make it into a large van just as the fence collapses and the walkers break through.

“Oh, my god. Oh, my god. They’re all over that place,” Glenn says, panicked.

“Our people are safe on the inside for now,” you attempt to reassure him. “They will probably have been distracted by the noise we made, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Rick says. “Glenn, you need to draw them away. Those roll-up doors at the front of the store—that area? That’s what I need cleared up. Raise your friends; tell them to get down there and be ready.”

“And I’m drawing the geeks away, how? I missed that part.”

“Noise.”

—

You smash the window of a bright red sports car, tripping the alarm, and swiftly reach inside and unlock the door before hot wiring it. You get out and squeeze Glenn’s shoulder. “You’ve got this man; I’ll see you real soon.”

“Yeah, yeah, be safe.” Nervously, he gets in and speeds away, distracting all the walkers coming your way while you run and jump back into the van.

Rick gives you a questioning look.

“What?”

“Do I ever want to ask how you know how to hotwire a car?”

“Definitely not, sheriff.”

—

You climb to the back of the van, open the doors, and bang on the shutters, “Come on guys!”

Once your people start to enter the van, you jump back into the passenger seat and pull out your handgun, ready to shoot any walkers that come up the windows. T-dog pulls the van door shut and says, “Go, go, go!”

Rick speeds away from the building and out onto the highway. You look back to check if everyone is okay and notice someone is missing. “Where’s Merle?”

“I dropped the damn key,” T-dog says, his voice full of remorse.

Oh shit, Daryl wasn’t going to be happy your group returned without his brother.

#the walking dead #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes fanfiction #Rick grimes/you #Rick grimes/reader #little dark age #little dark age 1.01 #the walking dead rewrite #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfiction

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leejenowrld · 4 months

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a question to all the mfal characters who aren’t yn and jeno

have you ever witnessed them doing something cute and romantic and thought “damn they’re kinda adorable” ??

wait this question is so cute 🥹🥹

warning - BIG SMUT, threesome implication

donghyuck - once i walked into them and i was gonna leave but i can’t lie, i secretly stood the side and just watched, shit was so hot. i was so turned on

yn - [hits donghyuck] what the fuck?

donghyuck - it was so hot. you can’t blame me. it was like i was watching some irl sexy promo. jeno kept slamming his cock in and out of her, like every minute. i got hard cos i just saw the wetness leaving yn’s pussy and slicking up every time jeno pulled out, only for him to slam in again, and all of these juices and milky strings would attach to his juicy juicy cock and then he’d fuck it all into yn again. the sounds of yn’s wet pussy… jesus. he’d do it through their orgasms as well. i left after 5 minutes but i heard it for hours, these dirty cute animals were doing this all night long. i remember thinking “shit, they’re cute, i respect them.” yn kept screaming daddy and jeno kept slapping her ass and boobs, it was genuinely the best sight i’ve ever seen. i dream of it. yn kept begging jeno to cum in her and me and jeno were both a bit confused cus ??? what else has he been doing the entire night

yn - [shocked, jeno holding her back as she’s ready to throw hands and kill donghyuck] you just stood there and watched us?? fucking perv

jeno - [unfazed and turned on] i remember that hyuck, i fucked her so dumb she kept asking me to cum in her although that was what i had been doing for hours. once my girls hit her 4th orgasm of the session, she starts chatting shit

donghyuck - shits so hot

jeno - next time we do that you can join [winks at donghyuck and blows him a kiss, hisses when yn flicks her finger against his forehead with force.]

donghyuck - [facing yn, licking his lips and palming his bulge] u know me and jeno have kissed before, right?

yn - don’t pull this shit with me now, jeno’s kissed half the people on campus, i know. don’t fucking remind me.

jeno - baby, it’s more like 3/4 of campus

yn - that’s it, no sex for three weeks.

jeno - [smirks playfully] i’ll just fuck donghyuck

yn - [copies jeno’s smirk] i’ll just kill you

jaemin - yeah, i won’t ever tell them but they’re pretty cute and melt my heart

jeno - please, you tell me that all the time

jaemin - anyways, when yn and jeno graduated they both got a lot of opportunities to do internships abroad which means they have to be apart for a few weeks. they’re both so smart and care about their future so ofc they won’t pass up on the opportunities. it’s quite sad but equally heart warming when i see them say their goodbyes. they’ll hug each other at the airport for so long and it’s just sweet seeing jeno comfort her because yn gets really emotional but somehow jeno can help control it? i think it’s a superpower, i’ll hear or see yn crying her eyes out and then jeno comes up to her and hugs her and holds her and they share a few kisses, jeno whispers some sweet shit to her, he just is an overall comfort to her and it only takes a few mins for her to go back to normal.

heejin - once jeno brought me and yn tickets to some play we had been geeking out about. at first jeno wasn’t gonna come because he probably just wanted to give me and yn friendship time but yn didn’t really read the room and begged him to come 😭😭 i mean tbf i told him to come to because he’s also a fan of this play. he didn’t listen to me but yn gave him puppy dog eyes and smiled and worked her magic so he just had to say yes lmao. i’m used to third wheeling them lmao but they were pretty cute that night, they didn’t make me feel sick. it’s the little things they do, the eye contact, yn truly looks up at him and she’s the physical description of this emoji ‘🥹’ you can literally see their pupils dilate when they look at each other. you can feel the love in the atmosphere. it makes me believe that love actually is all around.

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

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The Boy in the Window 22 ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader (Series)

[Masterlist] [Series Masterlist] [Taglists]

Chapter Summary: If you're going through hell, keep moving. Who knows what could be waiting on the other side?

Notes: I did my research and tried my best, but I am no expert, so please be leniant. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Warning: Canon conforming mention of violence. Drug and alcohol abuse. Alcoholism. Trauma. Detox. DT. Withdrawal symptoms. Suggestion of physical violence, domestic violence and child abuse. (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Expect spoilers for Peaky Blinders Season 1-4.

Wordcount: 4017

Part 22

[Previously]

It was purgatory.

There was no other word she could use to describe it.

Even hell wouldn't do the torment justice, for hellfire was unchanged and constant suffering, lacking in the versatility of the horrors they were faced with.

Every day, every night there was some new, unexpected agony he had to endure and they in turn had to brace.

Ada had come as soon as she heard what they were planning and had arrived the evening he had taken his last drink.

They had planned it this way in the hope that he’d at least get some sleep before it would really start.

So there were six of them, the two nurses, Ada, Mrs Gray, Frances and her, who dared to enter the room, as well as a host of maids who supplied them with everything they might need.

In truth, they should have hired an army.

The first time she went to see them was after she had taken her breakfast with the children and made sure they were occupied in the gardens.

Tommy had already been restless then, smoking like a chimney to keep his nerves in check, with most of his breakfast untouched.

In her and Ada’s presence he ate a little more, but it was a struggle.

By lunchtime the headaches had started, and from then on it only ever got worse.

There were mood swings and restlessness, nausea and vomiting.

Often, he'd blatantly refuse to eat, insisting it won't stay down anyways, but he needed his strength.

Sometimes Ada could get him to eat with whispers and begs, sometimes Polly had to scream at him, sometimes the nurses had to explain in great detail what would happen to his body if he didn't eat - all depending on his current state of mind, sometimes hopeful, sometimes enraged, sometimes resigned and deeply melancholic.

Since he never ate much, they had to keep at it constantly, making him even more irritated than he already was.

But with every passing minute, his restlessness increased.

And while he was restless, he needed to be careful with that half-healed wound of his. The last thing they needed was him reopening his wound.

Before going to bed, she checked in on them again, and by that time Tommy was already complaining about the seeing bugs, with sweat glistening on his brow.

The nurses assured her that it was normal, but she still hesitated to leave him and did so only because they all reassured her.

The next morning, Polly had looked like a ghost and Ada seemed to have aged half a decade.

“Its not uncommon,”, the nurse had warned her before she entered his sick room, now that the others were resting and Lizzie had taken the children for a fun day at a fair some village away, “for someone in his condition to see things that are not there- beyond bugs”

(Y/N)’s lack of surprise startled her.

He had been trembling when she entered, taking turns between sitting in the corner and staring at the floor or pacing up and down like a caged animal, or a maddened dog.

She tried to find words of encouragement but found none and so she just sat down next to him and stroked his hand for as long as he let her.

Then she’d watch him pace, changing directions without any system or rhythm, only to return to her, when she would stroke his shaking hand until the restlessness became too much for him to endure once more.

When the sun set on the third day, it turned bad.

The fever had him burning up, and all they could do was wipe the sweat from his body and try to cool him somehow, but that was not what frightened them.

His breathing had grown so ragged and his eyes so glassy and wide, as they locked in on things they could not see, only for him to force them shut again with an almost childish persistance.

When she held him, unable to contain the tremors of his body with her own, she could feel his racing heartbeat which was so viscious it made her fear it would give out.

Nothing they tried to calm him worked, no soothing touch, no calming word, not even Polly’s romani songs.

With midnight, came the terrors.

The absence of drink and the stress his body felt was more than enough to dig up the shallow graves of his ghosts, the ghosts of John, of Grace, of Danny and Freddie and so many others that shaped his nightmares since France.

When it started at first, Polly had glared at her as if she wanted her thrown out in light of revelations that were not hers to witness according to the other woman.

Perhaps she even would have succeeded in forcing her from his sickroom, which (Y/N) wouldn't have left voluntarily, but then his wrecked body resureccred ghosts that had been buried deeper.

And even if they came in the form wimpered whispers, flinches and weeping, they were of the sort that terrified them all to their core.

Thrice that night, he called Ada “Mother”.

The last time had been so bad, it ended with him sobbing into her chest, shaking like a leaf and burning with fever.

It had made her feel a type of cold, no blanket, no fire and no embrace could chase away, but the true horror was written all over Ada, who turned to ashened Polly.

“I can’t do it, Pol,", she had confessed through her tears. "Not when he’s talking like this.”

For (Y/N) these ghosts his struggles had brought back had been merely shapes behind the curtains in the windows, whispers in hushed voices, but to Ada and Polly they were a reality they had once lived and now were forced to endure a second time.

No one could blame her.

Somehow, they reached the morning, but that night alone left them so utterly drained, they did not even have the strength to bury their hatchets.

They simply lay discarded on the steep, risky road they all travelled together, thrown off like any other extra baggage to ease their ascent.

The nurses could do so much for his body but it needed one of them to attempt to sooth his mind.

In a way it reminded her of those years in the war where all past grudges were laid to rest, all inequalities thrown aside, because in the grand scheme of things they simply didn't matter anymore.

The only thing that mattered was going forward and no one, just like back then, could do it alone.

Polly and Ada remembered that time too.

Every woman did.

When she had gone down to wake and have breakfast with the children, without a minute of sleep to call her own, she announced that they would get to have a sleepover at Lizzie’s house.

The suggestion of her leaving with them had hung in the air, but she couldn’t go, could she?

Not when she hadn’t even been sure he would survive the two hours she was packing and seeing off the children.

The fourth day was as awful as the night that had preceded it, and in it’s wake, it left exhaustion, for them and for him too, but that at least quenched his restlessness.

On the fifth day, the doctor had told them that the worst had past, but that hardly made it better.

He was still struggling, barely clinging to sanity, while his body was tormented and weak.

It didn’t help that he showed little interest in eating.

Once, a few days after that, when it had gotten particularly bad and he had refused food all day long, and Ada’s pleas and Polly’s screams had failed, they had called her away from the children.

And so (Y/N) had resulted to sit down in his sick room with him.

Despite the spring air, it had been freezing because Tommy needed the windows open to prevent, or at least rein in, his nightmares.

So wrapped in a scarf, given her recent cold she had sat down and calmly explained that she wouldn't eat either until he would before taking up her knitting needles and offering him some of the silent treatment he had sought fit to deal upon them from time to time.

First, he had mocked her, rolling his eyes and dismissing her with scoffs and dark chuckles, then he had berated her for her stupidity, raising his voice and calling all sorts of ghastly things, only to fall to his knees at her side, weeping and pleading in the process, saying she didn't deserve to suffer for his sake.

All the time, for as long as the food stayed untouched, her mouth had stayed shut and her needles kept clicking.

Finally, after hours, he had yanked them from her hands and thrown them out of the window, announcing bitterly that she had won, and that he would eat if only to “End your fucking nonsense, woman!”

But he had eaten.

He had tried to trick her of course, first only pretending to, but when he realised she wasn’t fooled, matching the amount of soup and bread he ate and the amount of soup he didn’t eat, he had finally relented, cursing her under his breath.

Every day, they said, was an improvement, promising progress.

Polly, Ada and (Y/N) could only hope that that was true.

It was like dealing with a teething babe in the night, a toddler at their worst tantrums, a freshly bereaved young widow on the edge of desperation and a raging madman all at once, with no pattern to which facette of him they would get.

Then there were the times when his headaches got so bad he could barely move, with wet bandages around his forehead and all chamomile, peppermint or ginger tea, nor lavender oil or cooled metal spoons to ease it.

Some days he would jump at every noise, and snap at them for scaring him, sometimes upon recognition he'd crumble into their arms, but sometimes he'd just stare into thin air, his hands closed into fists.

There were days his heart thundered so ferociously, she feared once more that it would give out, and nights where he found no sleep at all.

Sometimes the sweating soaked through his clothes, making them fear his fever had returned but they still couldn't risk closing the windows.

It was difficult seeing Tommy pushed to his limits, but it was no easier to stretch their capabilities over and over again.

Each and every one of them gave more than their all.

She wasn't much use during the day, as the children kept her occupied, needing her attention too, but even then she took longer naps then they did and was constantly out of breath. That lingering cough didn't help either.

Without Lisa and her creative ideas, Lizzie and her stoic interventions, as well as Barbara inviting them over for playdates, she would have been lost.

Especially Barabra’s effort struck her.

She did not know much of the occurrences at Arrow House, but understood it was bad. She didn’t ask or pry either. Instead, and in spite of her fast approaching due date, she opened her home to let the children run wild with her son Oliver for a few hours until they were too tired to notice (Y/N)’s own exhaustion.

If she hadn’t been as utterly drained as she was, she would have berated herself for the decision to leave the children in the same house.

But she couldn’t leave either them or him.

After the better part of two months, the mood swings had evened out and most other symptoms had retreated to a manageable level.

His hands shook and he was plagued by nightmares, but he no longer saw things that weren’t there. And he no longer cowered in corners or made their life purposefully difficult with refusals and insults.

He had even tried to apologise, but Polly had shut him down in all their name.

What had happened, happened. It wasn’t like he remembered it properly, nor were those days and nights times Ada, Polly or (Y/N) were too keen to look back on.

They had, in silent agreement, decided that once this time passed, they’d let it stay passed.

The doctors gave them a long list of reassurances (never certainties, they didn’t go that far) that they had come through- as long as Tommy didn't relapse.

It still left him with a broken body and a fragile mind and them in a state of constant worry.

But at least they could go to bed without having to worry if he would still be under the living by the time they would wake up.

It allowed her to leave the grounds without drowning in guilt, even if it was only to visit Barbara.

The small twenty five minute walk had left her out of breath and close to panting on their way to the lovely little cottage the Caple’s called their own.

It was the house of their dreams really, small and manageable, not too big for little people like her, but still comfortable, clean and sweet with a garden and trees.

Oliver, Barbara’s boy, let them in.

His mother was lounging in the garden, with a belly as round as a football, looking ready to pop.

“We’ve got you flowers from the gardens!”, Emma announced, ceremoniously handing her a bouquet they had picked her earlier.

“And cake!”, Charlie added with a great sense of pride in his voice.

“Oh that’s just lovely!”, she told him with a wide smile.

“Can you sort it, cause by the time I’m up and about, the flowers’ll be wilted!”, Barbara asked her, as soon as Emma and Charlie had run off to play with Oliver.

It was easily done.

“How are you?”, she asked Barbara when she returned outside, sitting down next to her.

Barbara looked her up and down.

“Better than you by the look of it.”, she said with a frown.

“And I’m the size of a ploughhorse.”

(Y/N) tilted her head and sighed.

I feel like on.

But she didn’t say it.

“We brought you some summer honey and jams!”

It was good, that the maids knew how to do all that and were more than willing to show the children.

That way (Y/N) was allowed a few hours sitting in the edge of the corner with a plastered smile as a new curiosity kept the children too busy to notice her exhaustion while giving her some time to just shut off her racing mind.

She had also brought anything and everything they could harvest from the house and gardens at the moment, feeling guilty for all the time in the last few weeks Barbara had jumped in to help her without questions or demands.

“Oh love.”, Barbara sighed, reaching out and placing her hand over (Y/N)’s.

It was a small gesture, but it lifted a weight from her shoulders.

She needn’t pretend, but she didn’t have to explain either, not that she could have done.

There were no words, and even if she could find them, she was too tired to speak them.

“Is there anything I can do for you?”, Barbara asked, looking at her over her gigantic belly.

The fact that she offered, almost brought tears to her eyes, but there was nothing, nothing she could think of and nothing she could ask of her, not in her state.

With a smile, she gave Barbara’s hand a squeeze.

“Well, if you know a wizard, send him my way. I fear I need a few duplicates of myself.”

One to watch the children.

One to tend to Tommy.

And one to rest.

The walk back from Barbara’s home left her as exhausted as the way there, if not more so, even though she had nothing to carry this time around.

They had almost reached the house, and the promise of soft sofas and armchairs, when Emma cried out.

She had spotted them first, long before (Y/N) or Charlie did and took off running in his direction before anyone could even think of stopping her.

Of course, (Y/N) thought.

Tommy was a restless soul for whom stagnation in any shape or form was unnatural, even if it came in that of his sick room, but he was also a wild romani boy who climbed onto the roofs and ran away, who slept as well on dry earth and luscious grass as most did in their feather beds.

Still, she was surprised.

Ada was with him - the nights and days which he spent in delirium had left with a lot of questions they'd probably face far away from the house and possible interruptions.

Charlie's hand searched for hers as they watched her wrap her arms around his waist.

Tommy flinched slightly as Emma's head collided with his wound, but still, he stroked over the top of her head.

Charlie stepped so close to her, their shadows became one, as if he wanted to hide from his father’s view.

She stroked his shoulder in a silent repetition of the promise she had given him.

You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.

They could hear Emma raining down stories of countless adventures on Tommy, coaxing a faint smile to his lips as he cupped her cheek.

As they continued to walk up to the house, she felt Charlie's steps slow.

She let him control their pace and soon enough they came to a halt.

He leaned into her and she put her arm around him.

Whichever path he chose, she'd take it with him.

Tommy's eyes drifted over to them, met Charlie's, then hers.

Still, his son did not move.

She could see his deep breath from where she stood, and recognised the hurt in his eyes.

But they had talked about this.

The choice lay with Charlie, not him and even if she recognised his pain him, she would not change her position.

He understood too, and turned back to Emma.

With Tommy up and about more, she was faced with a new hurdle, as she hadn’t really expected Charlie to be so strong in his resolve not to speak to him.

But she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable in the presence of his father, so while Emma was saying goodnight to Cyril, an almost half an hour ritual which included brushing his fur and singing him a goodnight song, she took Charlie aside.

“Your father is better now.”, she told him. “He’s taking walks in the garden with Auntie Ada, like yesterday.”

Charlie nodded.

“Do you mind that we see him up and about the house and gardens from time to time?”

“Do I have to talk to him now?”, Charlie asked, twisting Mrs Tatters ears.

“No.”, she assured him. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Your father knows that too.”

“Alright then.”, he simply said with a shrug, before snuggling into her arms and leaning his head against her.

“Sing the cherry song?”, he asked.

The cherry song - she had a rather certain feeling why Charlie liked it so much.

She could see it in his widening eyes whenever her voice would form these particular lines.

I gave my love a story that had no end.

And it would always make him relax when she sang the final part, even if it was with her strained and croaky voice, still carrying the lingering effects of her cold.

It didn’t end for his father and she could only hope it wouldn’t end for the son either.

Arrow House was so large that Tommy could keep his distance from the children at most times.

He knew Charlie wasn’t comfortable around him yet and kept himself at arm’s length, even if it was difficult for him.

Still, she could often feel his eyes on her and the children when they were outside in the garden and she could see him either watching from a window or from the shade of the trees or see him in passing in or around the stables.

While earlier she had been on a tightrope, she was between chairs now.

She didn’t want Tommy to hurt, but Charlie needed her more.

Emma, on the other hand, couldn’t understand what was happening.

They hadn’t told her about what happened between Tommy and Charlie.

It would only have added to the confusion and the heartbreak.

But at the same time it meant she saw no reason to keep her distance from Tommy, even when Charlie was cautious and (Y/N) stayed back for his sake.

And she never forgot about him.

They could be picking flowers and she would set some aside for Tommy, who was still ill in her mind.

They could be baking and she would ask if someone would bring Tommy a piece.

She would see him and wave if he was standing at a window, or run to him if he was close enough.

And during one of these encounters she had asked Tommy to come see her during her riding lessons, being eager to show off her progress.

The first time, he had watched from afar, not even in shouting distance, but bit by bit, day by day he dared to move closer until he joined her from where she was watching, wrapped in a thick scarf to risk not getting sick again after having only just gotten through that ghastly cold which had tied her to the bed for three days only a week ago - the second this summer.

Charlie was doing his circles all on his own, with Emma was still on the rope while riding her pony.

Once they were finished with their two hour lesson, Harry helped them get the horses back to the stables, where (Y/N) handed them the treats they would always give out to the horses the way Tommy had taught them all those months ago.

The man himself stayed a few steps behind her as Emma took her portion of the treats and ran off, Cyril never far behind.

Charlie, however, stayed.

His hands were closed into fists and she could see the wheels turning in his head.

“Did you have fun today, Charlie?”, she asked, uncertain what he was planning.

“Tell them to stop treating Emma like a baby.”, he ordered sharply.

His tone made her eyebrows shoot up, and her mouth open with a gentle warning, but then she realised he wasn’t talking to her.

Holding her breath, she watched Tommy stand there like a deer in headlights, frozen to the spot.

“Emma’s good enough to ride outside of the enclosure.”, Charlie insisted, meeting his father’s gaze. “But they don’t want to let her, not even with the rope.”

Tommy’s hands began to shake slightly as he came closer with the caution only a man crossing a minefield could possess.

His joints cracked when he crouched down next to her to be closer of eye-level with his son.

“Why’s that, Charlie?”, he asked, staring up at him wide-eyed.

Charlie didn't turn to look at him, but he didn't run from him either.

“I told Harry but he said she can’t because she’s a girl and that's not how girls are supposed to ride.”

His pale blue eyes burned with determination.

“But that’s just stupid. How is she supposed to get better if they don’t let her?", he demanded to know, anger making his voice tremble slightly.

“They don’t listen to me but they have to listen to you! So you tell them!”

His father nodded slowly.

“I’ll take a closer look next time and then I’ll tell them.”, Tommy promised with a shaky voice.

Charlie gave a single, grim nod, as if sealing a gentleman’s agreement.

His mannerism was so to Tommy it made her mouth drop open once more.

They watched him follow Emma to the other side of the stables, joining her and Cyril.

(Y/N) and Tommy stayed behind.

Beside her, he steadied himself with two hands braced on the ground as he took a deep and quaking breath.

Reaching out, she covered his hands with one of hers and gave them a little squeeze.

He pushed himself back into a sitting position and inhaled deeply once more, his hand turning to hold hers.

When he met her gaze, his eyes were glassy. “Thank fuck for Harry’s stupidity, eh?”, he asked breathlessly.

“I wouldn’t thank them in the slightest!”, she snapped.

Tommy showed her the hint of a smile.

“Ah, love, you have to give me a little leeway in this case, eh?”

End of Part 22

Part 23

Thank you for reading! I’d be very grateful for feedback of any kind!

Taglist (see here for more)

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy @books-livre @chlorrox @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy

The Boy in the Window

@katiebugg03 @esistmon @chlorrox @theshelbyslimited @budugu @woofgocows @orkwardx0 @judig92 @100percentamess @kabbuu @esposadomd @im-nowhere-but-also-somewhere @starsnsecrets @ladylovesalot @katiepie67 @acoolnight @chaotic-onigiri @ohshititsfenharel @muhahaha303 @xoprincessmel @shittingonyourgrave @pessimisticbiitch @elisa20beth @simran-preet19 @majesticcmey @akiisbae @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake

@vodkainthecoffee @pearlstiare @jk-acc @cutecurly-hair @lovecleastrange @kishie8 @kirenia15 @nervousmumbling @babayaga67 @mbv2361 @pheitvsx @alessioayla @butterfly-skinnylegend

@mrsmalfoyshelby @lostgirl219 @rangerelik @kishie8 @burninggracesandbridges @just-a-harmless-patato @globetrotter28 @blackravena @hobothejuggalo @thoughtfuldonutdragonherring @j-6o @qardasngan @optimisticsandwichgladiator

#the boy in the window #valentineswritings #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #Thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby fanfic

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jawritter · 1 year

Text

Carry On

Chapter 15

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2259

Warnings: Nightmare, Brief hint of a panic attack. Dean attempting to gain a little independence, some angst.

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67 Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

My Mastlist Series Masterlist

Three weeks later

Dean’s POV:

“One… two… three… four…”

Dean’s heart raced as he lay flat on his back in the empty bed, Y/N had apparently gotten up already and just let him sleep. If she had only known the nightmare he was having, she would have probably stayed, or at least got him up before it lingered too far, and he found himself counting his breaths to try and calm his shaking body.

“Five… six… seven… eight…”

It all felt so real, like it was happening all over again. He could feel the bar in his back, his lungs collapsing and filling with thick fluid. He could his senses growing dimmer as he fought with the large monster in that god forsaken mask that he felt like he saw around every corner of his waking moment.

When he woke himself up struggling with an opponent that did not exist in the waking world, he couldn’t even bring himself to scream, he just laid there with his chest tight, and his breaths coming in short, hot bursts.

Finally, after a few minutes, his breathing started to come more easily, the shaking started to slow, and he felt like he’d been rung out like a fucking wet dishcloth as he brought his larger hands that were gripping the sheets beneath him just a few moments ago up to his face, hiding there as he tried to push the images still stuck in his head away.

If there was one good thing about these nightmares, and even flashbacks at times, is they weren’t as bad as they were when he literally went to Hell, and they weren’t getting any worse. They just weren’t going away. Maybe it was just something that he’d have to live with for the rest of his life. If so, and his physical body regained its former strength, or at least some of it, he’d deal with the mental shit the same way he always did. Y/N didn’t need that kinda stress added to what was already a full plate. She’d already taken on taking care of a fucking grown man like a toddler without complaint, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to add this to list of worries.

Once he’d gotten his heart to slow down, and his breathing to what was normal, he pulled his hands away from his face with an annoyed huff, dreading the moment he had to sit up, and put his feet on the floor.

Once he got himself up and moving, things weren’t so bad, but those first few steps out of bed in the morning, and sitting up for the first time in the morning, were damn near excruciating.

“Come on Dean, don’t be a pussy,” he grumbled to himself, before taking a deep breath and hoisting his heavy body forward through gritted teeth.

Miracle, who was standing at his food bowl eating his breakfast, heard his master struggling, and quickly trotted over to the bed and jumped up to make sure that Dean was okay. Dean blindly reached for him, patting him, scratching him behind his ear.

“I’m okay boy,” he groaned as he forced himself to shift again, and throw his legs over the side of the bed.

Once Miracle was satisfied Dean wasn’t dying, he jumped back down to his bowl and started to finish his meal. Apparently, Y/N had already fed him. That used to be something Dean did every morning, but now, it took so long to get himself moving in the morning that usually Y/N just did it for him.

Dean closed his eyes as he let his bare feet hang off of the bed, poking out from under the covers that still draped over his lap in a ball, and tried to bite back the sudden bitterness that worked its way up his stomach and into his chest. God, he hated being suddenly forced to be dependent on someone else. It hurt almost as much as his back did.

“Nope,” Dean whispered to himself, pinching back the burning that suddenly filled his eyes as the pressure began to build with the tears that were begging to fall. “No, that’s not what you’re gonna do damnit. You’re gonna get up, go find Y/N, and get on with your day. Not sit here and cry like a bitch over shit you can’t change.”

But God knows that’s all he wanted to do was lay back down in the comfort of his bed, and cry until he fell back asleep. So, in order to avoid doing just that, he grabbed the ball of cover that was resting on his lap, and threw them to the side, before grabbing the side of the bed with both hands, and taking a deep breath to prepare himself for the impending pain to come. That’s when he saw it, and his blood ran cold.

He hadn’t had an erection since the night he almost died, yet, here it was. Not so seromonicouly staring him in the face.

He sat there, staring at the clearly visible tent between his legs, completely gripped in emotions. Normal men having gone through what he’d gone through would probably have been shouting around the room. Not Dean, he just sat there paralyzed in fear.

This made things so much worse. What if Y/N was helping him take a shower tonight, or dress him, like she always did because nighttime was always the hardest to move around right before bed, and he popped a goddamn boner?! She’s gonna think he’s some fucking pervert! He did not need her to run off too, he’d already lost Sammy, if he lost her too, he might as well just lay down and die.

Icy hot panic was seeping into his bloodstream from somewhere deep down in his gut when the distinct sound of his bedroom door opening scared him into action.

Quicker than he’d moved so far, Dean grabbed the cover and threw them over his lap just as she opened the door, a tray of food in her hands, a warm smile spreading over her face as she saw him sitting up on the side of the bed, and that’s when the guilt sat in. For some reason, he just felt dirty. Disgusted with himself. Like he was hiding something hideous just under his blankets and he wanted to the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

“Good morning sleepy head, it’s damn near noon!” she greeted him, closing the door with her foot, trapping the smell of bacon and pancakes in the room with them that suddenly felt too small.

“Morning,” he said, clearing his throat and shifting himself back onto the bed, praying to God she wouldn’t notice his dilemma.

Y/N’s POV:

Y/N watched Dean closely as she approached the bed, and waited for him to stop rubbing his eyes long enough to take the tray of food from her.

It was the first time since the accident that he’d slept longer than daybreak, and she wanted to let him rest as long as possible, but when it started to approach noon, and he was still out like a light, she figured it was time to get him around.

But when she opened the door and saw the look on his face, she suddenly felt like something was wrong, very wrong. She just didn't know what.

“When you’re done with your breakfast, I’ll help you get into the shower this morning and dressed for the rest of the day since Sam’s not—”

“It’s okay!” Dean said a little too quickly, damn near choking on the bacon he’d crammed into his face. “I wanna try to do it myself, I think I can do it.”

Y/N eyed him wearily. She didn’t want to dampen his determination to get back on his feet, but she also didn’t want him to do too much too fast, and end up hurting himself in the process. Every time he wanted to do something himself it was always the same old fear that gripped her, and she didn’t know how to handle it.

“Fine,” she relented after a moment, “but I’m gonna be waiting just outside the door if you need me.”

“I’ll be fine sweetheart, I got it, I promise,” Dean insisted around a large bite of pancake. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Y/N sighed deeply, and looked towards the weapon wall Dean had proudly on display. “Well,” she stated after a moment. “I was gonna take you out to the park to do your laps for the day, instead of walking around the same old set of walls, but it’s pouring out. So, I figured we’d just have a lazy day. You worked really hard yesterday, and probably could use a break.”

Y/N was still angry, and she had thought that getting the pair of them out of the four walls they were in to do his physical therapy might be a refresher they both needed after the stunt that Sam pulled, but as usual, nothing she seemed to plan went according to plan.

When she’d first brought him back from physical therapy, and he was in such an incredible amount of pain, they had agreed to do his physical therapy together. That lasted a grand total of a day and a half, after that Sam always had some excuse as to why he couldn’t work with Dean that day. She didn’t understand it, why the hell would he not want to help his brother, after everything Dean had sacrificed and done for him.

“Y/N!” Dean called her name loudly, and she jumped to her feet as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on her, only to see that he was fine, just sitting on the bed with his cleared plate still in his lap, staring at her with deep confusion.

“There you are,” Dean said with a chuckle as he watched her closely. “Ya kinda checked out on me there, sweetheart.”

“Sorry,” Y/N said with a shake of her head. “Was just thinking about everything I needed to get done today.”

“You’re working too hard baby,” Dean insisted, sitting his plate to his right side, and before twisting himself around to toss his feet over the side of the bed, still talking to her over his shoulder as he did so. “Let’s just take a day away from physical therapy. Watch some shit on TV, eat food that’s gonna put us in an early grave, and just take a day to do nothing.”

“Dean, you need this physical therapy,” Y/N insisted. You’re doing so much better than you were when you left the hospital. We don’t need to let up now.”

Dean signed heavily, as he stared at the wall opposite of him. She watched as his shoulders slumped forward slightly, and she could almost feel the weight suddenly settle in the room.

“I–I’m gonna be really honest with you for a moment Y/N,” Dean said to his feet, and Y/N shifted nervously. She still had that nagging fear, and maybe always would, that when Dean didn’t need her around anymore physically, that he’d kick her to the curb and it would be as if it always was, and she was invisible again. Maybe that was something she would always struggle with.

“I’m not in a very good headspace today. I’ll be fine, but today, I really just wanna press pause and reevaluate some things, let myself adjust a little, and then tomorrow we can pick it up again, but right now, I just need today. Okay?”

Y/N’s feet moved her towards him, and she slipped her way around his bed, to stand between his legs, where he immediately wrapped his arms around her middle, and pulled her closer to him, resting his head against her chest with a deep, content sigh. He’d been through a lot in the past few days, and she was sure he was still pretty stressed out after he and Sam got in that fight, she could at least let him have today as an off day. Everyone needs an off day now and again. Plus, it took a lot for him to admit to her how he was feeling, and she knew that.

“Okay, fine, today is your day Dean, we will do whatever it is you want to do okay?” Y/N agreed, and Dean nodded as he held onto her. “Let me go and get your clothes for the day brought into the bathroom for you, and your shower warming up for you, while you get yourself out of bed.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed, letting go of her so that she could back away from him for him to stand up with a growl. Y/N quickly placed her hands on either side of his slender hips to help steady him while he recovered from standing. This time, under the thin, worn out t-shirt he was wearing, Y/N could feel the slightest muscle definition that he once had rebuilding there. It was a small thing, but to her, it was a big thing, it was a mark of progress and hard work. He was getting his strength back more and more every day. She just wished he could see the progress he was making the way she did. Maybe then things wouldn’t be so hard for him. God knows she didn’t want him to give up. He’d come too far.

Forever:

@britnwinchester

@samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@wittysunflower

@demongirl1996

@as-lost-as-sams-shoe

@jensenslady79

@spnwoman

@stoneyggirl2

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@stixnstripesworld

@fullwattpadmusictree

@nancymcl

@christycreature

@whiskey-infused-dreams

@supernatural79impala

@deandreamernp

@forgetthisbull

@miraclesoflove

@slamminmine

@deanwanddamons

@rvgrsbrns

@chevyharvelle

@i-love-superhero-movies

@lyss-dw79

@magssteenkamp

@lemondropirwin

@squirrelnotsam

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@defenderrosetyler

@thecreatiivecorner

@vicmc624

@busy-bee-angel-misska

@justanotherwinchester

@brilovesdeanwinchester

@idksupernatural

@lyarr24

@emoryhemsworth

@dean-winchesters-gardian-angel

@flamencodiva

@itmejado

@thoughts-and-funnies

@teresa-67

@hearteyes-j2

@peaches007

@bobbie3939

@vulgar-library

@writercole

@fairlyspnfanfic

@sexyvixen7

@spngi

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@donnaintx

@maliburenee

@the-family-business67

@agirlwithdemonblood

@captainsoldiergirl

@twinkleinadiamondsky

Jensen and Dean’s Babes

@deans-baby-momma

@impalaslytherin

@perpetualabsurdity

@msmarvelouswinchester

@akshi8278

@love-jackles

@irmcpar

@pink-sparkly-witch

@deans-spinster-witchs-favorites

@herstarburststories

@mimaria420

@deanwinchesterswitch

@charred-angelwings

@pascal-rascal424

@myloversgone

@fortheloveof-jackles

@eevvvaa

@bts-spnlvr12

@jxackles

@lassie-bird

@samsgirl93

@shawnie74

@kaz11283

@mlovesstories

@ladysparks78

@sarahgracej

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lightningthunderstorm · 8 months

Text

My problem with Sarada’s timeskip outfit

I wasn’t going to do this but with the number of times i have seen that outfit on my FY page on other platforms, I kinda wanna gauge my eyes out.

But I’ll refrain from that and explain why I don’t like it. If you like it that’s your thing.

I won’t be too mean so let’s get to the Pros first.

- This is Ikemoto’s own flare and I respect that. Kishimoto did encourage him to do this own thing rather than copy his style, and he’s doing it, so that’s a plus.

- It helps separate Kishi’s and Ike’s work better.

- It’s kinda cool and fashionable once you get use to it. The outfit is also a continuation of her pre timeskip ( which is also problematic for me)

However, for me the Cons outweighs the Pros about 3 times at least

1. It doesn’t suit Sarada as a person.

She’s quite level-headed and practical since the beginning of the series. Sarada also doesn’t express her emotions openly. She’s not much of a fashion gal who needs to dress cute and sexy all the time as well.

She’s also a responsive and active girl.

As we know, outfit is a big part of character design, it shows the readers part of the character’s characteristics, and we can understand which vibes they gonna give off.

Heels and loose jackets don’t help indicate the activeness, maturity and seriousness that Sarada has.

The jacket and the shoes being big and heavy don’t indicate a powerful taijutsu user who has Chidori ( a technique that is speed based) as one of her arsenal.

Various accessories don’t show a girl who is efficient and analytical right on the spot.

So a drippy and ngl sexy outfit doesn’t help showing what kind of person she actually is.

2. The design doesn’t match the world building

Yes this is peace time, yes it is also a fantasy world, but Naruto character designs have always been more functionalities oriented. Tell me you look at a basic jounin outfit and say it doesn’t scream life bulletproof jacket.

However it’s still a fantasy so not everything has to 100% be functionalism because if that’s the case then they’ll all wear bulletproof jackets.

If you see the main designs of each period you can see how it evolved over time: from samurai-ish armor to bulletproof style jacket and lighter version of it in Boruto time.

This problem comes in 2 parts

- It hinders Sarada’s very own power

She has her mother’s strength and her father’s ninjutsu, which requires her being fast and active. A big bomber jacket which is always fallen on one shoulder ( and stay there with all of her movements smh ) doesn’t help her very physical fighting style.

And you better tell me how this kind of sleeves does not hinder her hands’ signs, esp the thumbs.

- The design contradicts a very crucial element of Naruto’s clothing design: Maneuverability

This one is quite a controversial and people have screamed left and right about this so I’ll just argue some stuff they said

1. Heels are not a problem. She can fight in heels since there were other women in Naruto did that.

Yes and no.

Yes theoretically she can. However Sarada as an active teen Chunin won’t do that.

The famous examples of women who fight in heels were Mei, Tsunade and Konan. However Konan often turns herself into paper and she floats/ flies a lot so she didn’t even need her legs as much lol.

Mei and Tsunade are straight up Kages, they don’t have to fight that often. And when they have to fight, it’s either ambush or a sudden wtf thing appears out of nowhere.

If you look at every Chunin girl designs, none of them fight in heels. Especially those taijutsu specials aka Tenten, Hinata and her mom!

2. There are ppl who wear long coats but still can fight so can she. ( aka the Akatsuki and Hinata)

The coat is part of the character designs to help gives off a cool, dangerous and mysterious vibe for the new villain, so that the readers can be hooked and keep reading.

Still the coat is quite easy to move in even when it’s zipped up.

The lower part ( idk what to call it ) can still split apart after that.

Hinata has a big jacket but it’s to show her shyness and introverted nature, and she zips that shit up wtf.

Summary:

I guess my very main problem is that it doesn’t suit Sarada’s very own character, the others are just favour to the main dishes.

Thank you for reading till the end. I’m also happy to hear other takes on this.

#opinon #naruto #boruto #boruto timeskip #boruto next generation #boruto two blue vortex #design problems #the pre timeskip is also very problematic #she was 12 get a grip #12 didnt dress like that #and sakura is her mom wth #sarada timeskip #sarada uchiha

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lermisv4 · 2 years

Text

Some things that I would like to see in KH4

1. A sidequest where you gather different plants from different worlds for Strelitzia’s apartment. Make the damn place look like the urban garden to end all urban gardens

2. Literally everyone recognizes Yozora and he has no idea why up until someone shows him that Kingstagram post Sora made in KH3 that shows the poster of Verum Rex from Toy Box. Better yet, give him the physical copy of said game.

3. Luxord mission control

4. Star Wars characters thinking that Sora’s magic is an “anomalous use of the Force”

5. Sora looking for Neku once he hears that Shibuya is a thing

6. Riku and the unregistered Keyblade motorcycle that never fails to get him in trouble with the cops

7. Speaking of the cops: After the trailer they bombard Sora with questions and the poor guy is like “um, look, I really should lie to you about all this but I’m a really bad liar and I’m not sure what lies I can even tell you so can I just not talk about this?” and he has those puppy dog eyes that scream “I really miss my friends” and the police leave him alone because poor thing. Except for That One Cop He’ll hound poor Sora until the end of time

8. Heartless plushies for sale in a week flat after they appear

9. Strelitzia party member

10. Speaking of which, her Keyblade formchanging into a scythe that looks too similar to Marluxia’s for Sora’s sanity

11. Sora will jump on the local social media the first chance he gets and we all know it. ALL sorts of content - cooking, the pant collection, fighting, “look at this cool bird”, “wow this building is so weird gotta show it to Riku” and other weird stuff. He basically becomes a lifestyle influencer with a side of monster slaying and he has absolutely no clue what he’s doing, so just posts cool things as far as he’s concerned

12. Luxord running the casino mini-game

13. Yozora giving Luxord crap whenever he loses said minigames

14. Ava vs Luxu, except that it involves a screaming match on top of the fighting that DOES get posted online

15. Imagine the Master of Masters treating Luxu/Xigbar like he’s still that awkward teenager... In front of everyone who knew him as Xigbar. Top tier blackmail material right there

16. Sora vaguelly referencing a “fighting tournament” and NEVER giving specifics

17. Dream Eaters in the real world. Cue even more plushies. So many dream eater plushies. Except that then the Dream Eaters will get jealous of the plushies and will start giving cuddles to EVERYONE so there’s no point in the plushies anymore

18. Have you seen that post (don’t know from which website, I found it on Pinterest) where Ventus introduces his friend groups to each other... and from one hand it’s Lauriam and Elrena and one the other is Lea, Isa and Skuld and they all look extremely awkward? That needs to happen.

19. Foretellers looking up cosplay because they’re tired of everyone questioning who they’re cosplaying as

20. Luxu being #tired of everything

That’s all I got for now!

#kingdom hearts iv #kh4 speculation #sora #riku #strelitzia #yozora #luxord #luxu #xigbar #wish list #original post

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entropic-introspection · 1 year

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Akari stared at Irida blankly, before laughing hollowly. "Ha. Ha. Ha. No," she said, before taking a drink of her water.

"O-oh," Irida said, fidgeting as Akari stowed her water skin again. "I'm sorry, I hadn't realized that you might need to keep it a secret-"

"Nothing like that," Akari interrupted her. She sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I forgot you wouldn't be familiar with Hoenn. We're... my region is different. From here. We don't... don't honor our gods like that. Or, uh, at all, almost."

"Really?" Irida said, shocked. "I mean, I don't mean to judge-"

Akari waved her hand at her lazily. "No, really, it's fine. Hoenn's pretty... physical, I guess. The gods that sleep beneath my region are the primal embodiments of land and sea. They're ancient, and they don't really- don't exactly understand humanity. They don't need to. We show respect to the gifts they gave us, the land and the sea, and try not to bother them. We don't even mention them, if we can."

"That sounds so... hands off," Irida murmured. "Do you really have nothing you do to honor them directly?"

Akari shrugged awkwardly. "Oh! I guess there's this like, litany? It's not really a prayer to them or anything, but kids kinda pass it around at school, especially if there's like, earthquakes or stormy weather. The real little ones compete to see who can memorize it first."

"I'd love to hear it, if you would be so kind," Irida said politely.

"Uh, yeah, give me a minute," Akari said, squinting. "Been a bit since I've said it."

Irida waited patiently as Akari closed her eyes and concentrated.

"We pray that the god keep to their slumber," she intoned. "May their dreams be as deep and endless as the darkness that cradles them. May they never wake, even if the ground moves in waves and the sea turns to stone. If ever they return to the sun's light, may the sky itself come crashing down to bury them in dark dreaming once again."

She opened her eyes and shrugged. "I dunno, just a weird kid's thing. Oh, wait, is that a Drifblim? They usually stay up so high in the air!" She ran off, not noticing Irida's open-mouthed shock.

Author's note- Irida is saying a Shinto prayer, the Hi Fu Mi norito. It doesn't translate well to English because so far as I found, it's not actual words, but it is a prayer for purification. This is roughly all I know from some googling, I am not a practitioner of Shinto. The text is copy-pasted, so sorry for any irregularities.

Note 2: I think Hoenn is the funniest region to compare to Hisui's spirituality and debates over the "true Sinnoh", because Hoenn is pretty aware that there's Kyogre and Groudon, they just want those two idiots to shut up and stay asleep. If one wakes up, it screws up the balance of nature. If both wake up, they have a screaming fight until the landlord (Rayquaza) comes to tell them to shut up. Like every other region has some sort of 'sacred area', and Hoenn is just "Hey. Don't go, this cave is almost impossible to get into anyways, and the thing inside it is sleeping for good reason. Go make a secret base, that's more fun anyways."

#legends arceus #rescue legends #my protagonist chan/akari is not the most socially aware

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theplaguewriter · 1 year

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I was like that one cursed emoji that goes "is for me?' When i saw that the requests were open. I wanna request an Obey Me! Angst/Hurt Comfort Headcanon with Lucifer, Diavolo, Barbatos and Mammon in which reader/MC is very blunt and doesnt take shit from anyone (almost down right agressive at times) and is horrible with emotional vulnerability.

It's one of the rare instances where they are vulnerable (like an injury, witnessing something scary, having something bad done to them like violence and arguements etc.), but their pride gets in the way of seeming that way.

Good luck with writing and have fun! I hope this trope is interesting for you

Hello! I am sorry for the delay. The prompt was super fun! And it was quite challenging, I'm not 100% sure I nailed it..and they became scenarios accidentally..I hope you don't mind them either way. >.>

Enjoy my little Plagueling!!

Obey Me, Lucifer, Diavolo, Barbatos, Mammon and a blunt MC who doesn't want to be vulnerable

Lucifer

You sat at your desk, staring holes into the paper in front of you. Your eyes burned but you wouldn’t let any tears come or fall, not for this. It was all because of Satan, you had borrowed a book and torn a couple pages due to an accident. It had been an honest mistake, and you immediately told him and offered to get him a new copy. Satan had already been in an extremely foul mood, due to an argument with Lucifer, and this was just too much. He downright exploded in your face, screaming bloody murder about how useless humans are and that you couldn’t do anything right. While he didn’t physically attack you, he yelled at you for a good long while, leaving you pale. Now you sat in Lucifer’s personal library, trying to avoid everyone and nobody wanted to bother the oldest demon, so you thought of this as a safe place until you had your emotions in control.

Fucking ass, it was an accident…it’s not my fucking fault if he and Lucifer argue. No need to make me feel shit for that..

While you were deep in your own thoughts, hurt and anger mingling equally, you didn’t immediately notice Lucifer's approach.

“MC, I was looking for you. I heard about Satan overstepping, and I wanted to check in with you.”

“I’m good….thanks.” Now this riled you up, you bit the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want Lucifer of all people to pity you. You could handle being yelled at, and you would make Satan apologize, without any help. “I know my brother can be a handful, he really needs to get-”

“I said I’m fine. He yelled at me, big deal. I’m working, so if you wouldn’t mind?”

But there it was, the little betraying heightened pitch in your voice. Lucifer just raised an eyebrow at you interrupting him, then he took a seat next to you. He didn’t face you, and wasn’t really looking at anything in particular. “A human among demons..you hold up very well. I don’t know many, if any, other humans who would face the avatar of wrath in his element and just stand and stare and not cower and beg.” His tone was quiet and he had begun to pick disinterestedly at his gloves. Something about what he said made a warmth flood your chest, you took in a deep breath and turned to face the demon at your side.

“Listen, I appreciate your words but I can handle this, I don’t need you to baby me. I will kick Satan’s ass once he’s calmed himself.”

Lucifer shot you a grin, and patted your head.

“I’ll pay to see that. And I was not trying to baby you, more so encourage you. You are a weaker species, and yet you’re still standing. Even after all of us threatened you. It’s impressive, and showing that sometimes things get under your skin, does not make you weak.”

You huffed, he was right, but you hated feeling vulnerable and open. The weight of his hand in your hair, in addition to the ever spreading warmth in your chest, did wonders to calm you down. A half-smile spread across your face, and you looked back at your academic work, which now felt a lot more clear and doable.

Diavolo:

Diavolo was just done talking to Lucifer and on his way back to his castle when he saw you in the garden, near the fountain. Since it has been a while he decided to approach you and chat for a little, he always was very eager to snatch up some of your time. He stopped in his tracks when he saw your face. You looked out of it, just staring out into the garden, fists balled in your lap.

“MC…are you unwell?”

Your head snapped to him, you were so lost in your thoughts you hadn’t heard Diavolo approach. You smoothened your face over, trying to hide any sort of emotion that could betray your current state.

“No. Just a small altercation with Mammon, nothing to fret about.”

“Altercation?” Diavolo swiftly sat down next to you, his eyes scanning over you for any signs of injury, concern clearly etched into his face. Which only ticked you off more, you clicked your tongue and stared right back.

“I have two light bruises on my arm. Mammon was mad, grabbed my arm and did not mind his force. It’s no big deal. The moron should just watch out how much strength he uses next time.”

You tried to wave it off, but Diavolo grabbed your hand. The concerned look on his face had been replaced by a mixture of curiosity and seriousness.

“MC. It may have been an accident but you’re a human -”

“And what? I’m fragile compared to you? I know that. Doesn’t mean I’m made of fucking sugar. I can handle this.”

You yanked your hand back and gathered your things, you had heard enough. You didn’t want to seem like a crybaby in front of the ruler of all demons.

“That is not what I’m trying to say, MC. Please sit down, yes?” His warm smile and stretched out hand made the offer too tempting to resist. So you planted yourself next to Diavolo again, taking his much larger hand while taking a deep breath.

You hated this, you knew what was coming. The whole thing about being vulnerable and shit, you despised it.

“You're a human citizen of Devildom, for the time being at least.” He shot you a sad smile and continued on, “Mammon should treat you with the same respect he should treat everyone else with. I have no doubt you can handle yourself, in fact I believe once you feel up to it you will put the fear of God into Mammon.”

Diavolo barked out a laugh at his hilarious (as he finds) pun, and puts his arms around your shoulder, pulling you in for a bear hug.

The comfort and reassurance that you’re not weak, made you lean into the hug. You wrapped your arms around him smiling lightly into his shoulder. You knew as a human you were physically weaker than the demons, but Diavolo’s words made your heart soar. You would absolutely kick Mammon’s ass for this.

Diaovolo stayed with you for a little longer, chatting about the recent happenings in Devildom and the upcoming events. It was a welcome distraction from your earlier frustrations, and when he left for the palace again, you felt good again.

Barbatos:

You weren’t sure what you were looking at. The creature was massive and covered in what you assumed was the blood of the poor lesser demons it had just devoured. While cowering in a little alcove, you prayed to any and all higher power that it would not detect you. You tried your best to keep your breathing even and to make no sound and no movement that could alert this beast to your presence.

When the door to the corridor burst open, the seven brothers and Diavolo marching in, you couldn’t help but yelp in relief. Saved, you were saved. You jumped up and made a run for them, hurtling over broken pieces of statue that the monster had left in the wake of its rampage.

“MC, get out. Barbatos will bring you and the others to safety.”

Diavolo’s firm order left a sour taste in your mouth. You had to be saved, you weren’t able to get out of this on your own. A weak human.

Barbatos was not far from the door, leading you towards another part of the house, far off. Simeon and Luke were there as well, which made the whole situation a little better.

It was only when you felt Barbatos’ hand on your elbow and saw the worried face when you realized that you had tears running down your face. You pushed the demon away and stomped out of the room, leaving two very confused angels behind.

“MC, wait please.” Barbatos’ voice rang out clear behind you, as if he was asking you about tea on a normal Tuesday afternoon.

“Back off. I don’t need help. I’m good. Can’t run for shit, this was some exercise and I-”

“Do you mind cinnamon tea?”

“Huh?”

The question took you off guard, as well as Barbatos' now calm and pleasant smile, as if nothing had ever happened.

“Luke prefers cinnamon, and Simeon will join but I must admit I’m unsure about your preference.”

“Barb..what the fuck?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, furrowing your eyebrows. It felt almost as if he was mocking you, and you fought the urge to hurtle some insults at him about how you can handle this.

“You wanted me to back off, I will not push you. This was a terrifying situation, I’m happy you made it out fine. It must’ve been due to your quick wit. It’s beyond impressive, crying in such a situation does not make you weak. I admire this a lot about you. So cinnamon tea?”

If you hadn’t known Barbatos this well, you could have thought his smile was nothing but a pleasantry. But his eyes betrayed more emotion, he meant what he had said, which in turn made you feel soft and a little regretful of your tone from before.

“Cinnamon sounds fine.”

He gave you a short nod and made his way towards the kitchen. On a whim you decided to join him, asking him about the creature that was wreaking havoc in your home. Hearing more about it helped you rationalize, and Barbatos did not press you once on the situation.

His presence and demeanor made you calm down completely again, and you silently thanked him, hoping your feelings would reach him through your smile and the light touch on his shoulder.

Mammon:

You were lying awake in your bed, your breathing was uneven and the cut on your leg still burned. You wanted to just curl up and cry, you were still afraid. Some lesser demon had attacked you, you weren’t really sure of the circumstances anymore. It was all a blurry haze, you remember making a comment to something it had said about Asmo, and the next thing you remember was searing pain in your leg. You sucked in your breath and rolled to your side, tucking your legs towards your body.

How you wished you could ask someone to hold you, to comfort you but you were a human among demons. Here you were weak by definition and you did not feel like adding insult to injury. Hot tears burned in your eyes when you heard the handle of your door move, and in an instant you sat up straight in your bed, eyes focused at the door.

“Hey..so uh.” Mammon had apparently not yet fully thought of an excuse as to why he needed to be in your room in the middle of the night.

“So like…you good? You dumbass really provoked a demon, huh? Can’t be helped, you should stay with me next time. I’ll put them in their-”

“Shut the fuck up.” You glared at him, which made Mammon shut up instantaneously.

“I don’t need a babysitter. I can handle myself. I don’t need…”

You swallowed hard, the words failing you. Because you did need someone. Just a moment before Mammon had come to check up on you, you had wished for someone to hug you.

“Listen…MC, I don’t wanna belittle you or anything…I just worry…you know..It was scary, I couldn’t even use Goldie and Asmo kept babbling about all the blood and..”

Mammon let out a groan of frustration, he hadn’t exactly meant to ramble like this either. So he did what everyone would do and stared dumbfoundedly at you.

His little ramble had one effect though, you couldn’t help yourself but let out a light laugh.

He couldn’t even use Goldie, which was a huge deal for Mammon. It made you all bubbly inside, to know he cared about your wellbeing. Even if you hated to admit your own weakness.

“Come here, ass. I’ll give you a hug, would that make you feel better?” you teased him, while he shuffled closer to your bed.

“Pff, I’ll let you hug me because you asked not because I need it, or anything.”

He sat next to you, visibly blushing but refusing to look at you. You threw your arms around him, and felt him shift into a more comfy position. The silence that stretched was not awkward, as you expected it to be. This was comforting, for both of you.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It’s alright, I won’t die. What did you want to buy but couldn’t?”

You didn’t feel like talking about it, Mammon got the hint and started to tell you about all the weird trinkets and fancy clothes he had seen today. After a while the two of you were giggling and buying fun outfits for each other.

#mammon #diavolo #barbatos #lucifer #obey me #shall we date #otome #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me mammon #obey me diavolo #obey me headca #headcanons

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demonfox38 · 3 months

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Completed - Shantae: Risky's Revenge

You know what? I did like that Capcom NES "Little Mermaid" game. You would be absolutely right about that.

Round Two of my "Play More Steam Games" year started off rough. Windows 11 sought to be a prima donna, refusing to render anything but a black screen for two of the games from my Steam library. Luckily, all it took was forcing the executables to run in a higher priority mode through System -> Display -> Graphics, but man. That was a two-hour headache I didn't need.

Of the two games I had tested, "Shantae: Risky's Revenge" won out in terms of priority. Granted, had I known what I do now, maybe I would have tabled this one for just a little longer. It wasn't exactly watching "The Empire Strikes Back" before "A New Hope", but it may have been watching "Attack of the Clones" before anything else!

The "Shantae" series in its current incarnation is a set of Metroidvania-styled games starring the titular Shantae, the often hired and fired protector of Scuttle Town (and Sequin Land) at large. When I say "in its current incarnation", I don't mean to imply any gameplay changes. What I am trying to say is that "Shantae" was both simultaneously notable and niche in its first incarnation. Notable, in that even I—some nobody kid from Iowa—knew about this game. Niche, in…well, let's just say poor sales and the general screwed-up state of the second-hand game market has resulted in this:

Dude, I own a physical copy of "Earthbound", and even those prices make me want to scream. Like, we can talk about how it might be wasteful to have companies like Limited Run Games reprint copies of games, but when this second-hand market the alternative…(Also, who do we have to bribe to get "Power Blade 2" re-released? Because JFC on those prices, too.)

Since the ancient days of the Game Boy Color, the Shantae series has had a more consistent game release schedule, cranking out a new Metroidvania about once every 3-5 years. This started with 2010's "Shantae: Risky's Revenge," the sequel to the aforementioned cult classic. In it, Shantae is tasked with securing three magic seals and recovering a stolen lamp from Risky Boots, her arch-nemesis from the previous game. Alongside a Belmont-esque hair whip attack, Shantae is also blessed with the ability to cast spells and transform into various creatures. Granted, given that these powers come to her via being half genie, you can imagine what a problem that stolen lamp just might turn out to be for her…

Originally, this game was released on the Nintendo DSi, a late-stage iteration of the Nintendo DS known for its implementation of a digital shop. Which, uh…I'm guessing isn't operational anymore. The iteration I played was the so-called "Director's Cut", which generally changed menu presentation and character artwork to use higher-resolution images. It seems like it also preserved a bonus mode that was made for an iOS version of the game, which feels a bit more substantial than just updating portraits.

Given the collapse of online shops, it's just lucky this game is available at all. (More reasons to go physical, right? Well, if game publishers ever put a complete product on their cartridges/discs in the modern era, anyway…)

There are two dichotomies in Metroidvania games that aren't often discussed. For me, these are offensive styles and end goals. See, "Metroid" games typically operate via fast ranged gameplay while "Castlevania" takes more methodical strikes, often keeping within slugging distance of its foes (Charlotte Aulin and arguably Shanoa being exemptions.) Extending from that, "Metroid" games are more rewarding for speed than item collection/map completion, while "Castlevania" games tend to reward meeting extensive collecting goals or world exploration. (There are some exceptions here too for the "Metroid" series, but it's usually more about getting tits and TFO than how many lore dumps or missile expansions you left behind.)

I bring this up because I think it helps to explain how I like my particular Metroidvania mixes and how "Shantae: Risky's Revenge" falls into this spread. See, I wouldn't classify myself as a fast gamer. I'll do weird things, and if I want to prove something, I do them as hard as I can. But, generally, I want to experience as much as I can in one go-around. I want my marks to be high in figuring out how to worm into certain locations or call a game director's bullshit. (Looking at you, Igarashi.) I'm not the kind to grind something over and over again until the speed and efficiency of my gameplay makes someone's pants fly off. I mean, I love watching other people do that, but man. I'm just not wired up to be wired. Plus, I've got hundreds of other games that I want to play in my lifetime, so I want to make what may be my only time with a game count.

So, where's "Shantae: Risky's Revenge"?

Fight-wise, this is pretty "Castlevania." Like, I wouldn't classify Shantae as being as robust as a Belmont, but the melee-ranged whipping and magic spells on a limited meter make it pretty clear that she'd fall on the "Castlevania" side of things. Good for me! Mostly. I mean, she doesn't seem to have that movement trick that Alucard et. al have where you can spam attacks at twice the speed intended by hop-slashing, but she's functional.

Girl absolutely needs that hair conditioner, though. Definitely an item worth saving up for!

Goal-wise? The game's making a cake sandwich, and it's really trying its damnedest to eat it. You can receive achievements for just finishing the game, as well as finishing it with all items, finishing it under four hours, and then finishing it both under four hours and with all items. The ending itself doesn't seem to change all that much, which is a bummer, as it ends where most "Metroid" games begin. Frankly, all you get out of it is a different picture after the credits. But, if that's something you want to tackle, boy howdy. You do you.

In terms of difficulty, the game is…honestly, very strange. Like, I was almost tempted to say that this is a good Metroidvania game for beginners, but then I hit the Battle Tower. Holy crap. One of my Tumblr mutuals mentioned that the Battle Tower is where they bailed on the game, and I can't blame them. It's a timed ascent up 10 flights of stairs filled with monster battles and a whopping 2 minutes on the clock. Like, you do get time extenders in pots between fights, but yikes. That's not something you want to deal with when you're playing late at night to recover from your mind-numbing, soul-sucking existence.

Even that tower's difficulty might not be its own fault. I think the UI for the game's shop is not clear or helpful. There's two different currencies the game uses for items (gems and jams), and the latter is not initially defined with great clarity. Like, when you look at this, what do you think this item costs?

It's supposed to be 1 jam, 150 gems. But, I read that as 150 jams. Like, you get maybe a fifth of that in game max. But, when you're trying to be an independent gamer and not reading guides, that measurement can be very confusing. It should really be 1🫙150 💎, if you're going to involve icons in the mix.

Do your chemistry teacher a favor, alright? Keep your units straight.

Outside of my computation issues with the shop, I found some of the later levels' platforming to be daunting. Like, I don't know how to say this without sounding weird, but I like Metroidvania games because they generally are more forgiving about platforming than a standard game. You fell? Oh, well. Just don't land in the acid or lava or spikes, and you can try again. Maybe chug some health potions. Here? It's a bit more on "Zelda" rules, so failure isn't the worst it could possibly be. It's just with as many fiddly, narrow platforms as the game throws at you, damage can add up really quickly.

Also, those Monkey Bullet puzzles are exercises in frustration. Slippery friction + precise square navigation = screaming monkey time.

One last weird note I made was on the game's achievement system. I'm fairly certain I got two achievements that I did not meet the criteria for receiving ("Tinkercide" and "Speed Run the Baron's Lair!") Which, hell. I guess if something is given in the favor of the player, why should I bitch? It just seems weirdly implemented.

Screw those two achievements regarding withholding a puppy from an NPC and hurting it, though. Surely, the game can find something better for me to do. Like, collect cats. Another mermaid shooting gallery. Hell, we're halfway to an "Ecco" game. Give me some hoops to jump through!

It is lucky for the game that it is pretty damn unique and cute, at least in terms of style. Like, the character portraits are mid 2000s Flash animation quality, so eh there, but the sprites themselves are quite lovely. Everything is brightly colored and has a pleasant bounce to its movement. Looking at older "Shantae" footage, it seems like a lot of the animation style was preserved from the GBC game, which I imagine is a lovely touch for fans of the original game.

Sequin Land is a pretty cool setting as well. Like, my issues with this game aside, I can see why the "Shantae" games have become a solid franchise over the past decade. It's got a playful charm to it, something akin to what I grew up with in the 90s in terms of Arabian fantasy. The inclusion of the undead as a staple is a bit strange, but it's played with very well. It's the kind of game that makes you wonder if the link between zombification, civility, and coffee has something to do with adenosine receptors. I mean, I'm not a neurologist, but a part of me wants to take that joke about making coffee for zombies a little too far. It's a weird kind of inspiration, but you've gotta take it where you can get it!

Additionally, the transformation gimmick is simpler to set up than in the previous game. All it is here is holding a button down to cycle through animations until you get the one you need. I'm a simple woman. Give me a game where you can turn into a mermaid, and I'll find my own joy in it. I can bitch about the fiddliness of that monkey all day, but the mermaid? Yeah. Fine by me. (The elephant's okay too, I guess. At least it's good about keeping the undead dead!)

I'm glad that the "Shantae" series made it past this game. Between the structural issues for "Risky's Revenge" and a bummer of an ending (regardless of your skill, mind you!), it would be a shame if this was the end of the run for Shantae. There are cool portions to it, but man, I can't really recommend it. The writing goes from juvenile to depressing, and the difficulty oscillates quite a bit, so I don't know who the audience for this would be other than previously existing "Shantae" fans. Theoretically, this could have been a great Metroidvania starter for preteens. But, man. I can't see many having the gumption to tough out shooting monkey puzzles and surprise speed-run segments.

Like, don't get me wrong. I've got "Shantae and the Pirate's Curse" downloaded and ready to go for later on. (Risky's not the only vindictive bitch here.) I just don't know if I'd be right up to bat for this particular title. I mean, if you get it as a gift or for under five USD, okay. File it under the "gift horse" idiom. But, I wouldn't go over $8.00 at the very least. I don't want to be one of those pricks that have a dedicated price point for each hour of a game, but I think a dollar an hour here is a fair estimate of overall value. And I got my first (and possibly only) run done in under 8 hours, so there you go. Value calculated.

Which isn't what this game's store owner did! BOOM! LAST MINUTE DRAG ON THE STUPID STORE USER INTERFACE!

Okay, I'm done.

#post game evaluation #shantae: risky's revenge #I got super distracted by Palworld so this is getting posted later than usual...

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ur-fave-is-yandere · 2 years

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Yandere Profile: Vinnie Hacker

"You and I we are one in the same, loving in pain." - Joji

Very Very controlling, possibly the most controlling yandere of them all

Definitely the most controlling boyfriend you've ever had

But Vinnies no idiot, he's a master manipulator and never has to force his control

His never ending mind games start from the moment he meets you till your last dying breath by his hand

The two of you most likely meet somewhere in the nighttime, summer air hot and humid in the city of LA

He sees you long before you ever see him, almost impossible too due to the large general never ending flow of people all around you two

But once Vinnie locks in on something he never, ever, lets it go..

He'd follow you back to your apartment, standing on the other side of the street as he watches you. He

soon makes it his regular spot, slowly inching closer and closer like a panther stalking its next kill.

By the start of fall he's not only managed to break into your home, but he also has his own copy of your key along with his own coffee mug in the kitchen.

It's funny to him really, how careful yet careless you are. Smart enough to get reinforced locks on the door but not smart enough to bother to check the rusting locks on the windows...such a small detail yet one that makes all the difference to him.

Even living on the second floor won't stop a gym rat such as himself from easily using the dumpsters, water pipes, and fire escapes to effortlessly scale the distance from the ground to your inviting windows.

Secretly, he thinks it's an invitation, a cosmically sent sign even. Of all the nights your windows are never locked it's the night he's chosen you.

Vinnie's a possessive man, territorial. Like a rabid dog who's finally found a source of food in the desert.

He plants himself into your life from the inside out, leaving small things here and there. A coffee mug one week, a worn tshirt the next. A shirt just big enough to be over sized on your much smaller than his frame, yet ordinary and plain enough to blend in with your own small collection. It's almost too easy to slip it into the part of your drawers where you keep your nightlies, just too easy to leave it crumbled on the bed in your own style to convince you it's the one you've been wearing all week...

Once he's taken over your most inner physical personal space he slips himself into your real life all too well.

One day he's the delivery boy with your large meat lovers thin crust pizza, the next he's the new tenant above you asking if you've seen his autistic younger brother who can't be alone so please please help he gets so scared when he's alone in new places oh please the noise of the city will hurt his head...please help....

Of course you help, he knew you would. He knew some fake late night sob story about an escaped little brother on the spectrum would pull your heart strings enough to convince you that following a handsome stranger down the winding allies of LA is the right thing to do. After all, if stalking your own autistic brother taught him anything it's your weak spot. What a kind older sister, if only your kindness was on par with your brains.

Maybe if it had been you would've realized you never even thought to check if you had your phone, let alone to look at any of the streets Vinnie managed to get you down.

No longer even in LA it finally catches up to you that the sun has long fallen in the sky and your only way back home is the very reason you'll never see it again. If only for a second you had your own safety in mind you juuust might've turned back before Vinnie managed to lead you into a long abandoned car shop. And maybe if you could've escaped in time you wouldn't be tied and gagged in the back of your new lovers all black 1975 Cadillac.

And maybe, just maybe if the stars had been in your favor you never would've been captured back to Vinnie's shared mansion, your new prison and home.

Forever.

"Scream if you want, everyone's used to it coming from my room. Just make sure the daddy part is extra extra loud for me hm? Wouldn't want anyone to think you aren't enjoying the new move would we? How rude that would be...And I don't appreciate rude puppies bitching too loud"

#yandere #vinnie hacker #yandere vinnie hacker #vincent hacker #vinnie hacker tiktok #tiktok

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hanshikha-life · 10 months

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My Prankster Brother

It was a sunny evening in the month of June. The bright light shone at my books and my pen was constantly being bitten while I brainstormed the answers of my homework questions. My mind went back and forth on the same question again and again. That’s strange. I’m generally really fast on working out my after school work, I thought. Maybe it was because I was working three times hard to be on par with ninth grade. “It was a sudden change this year”, I said to myself, “It’s the first time I went to school continuously without a summer break and maybe because of which I got a little stressed out”. As such thoughts fluttered through my head came out of nowhere my little sister. I tried my best to pay attention to her while my drowsy, dark-brown eyes couldn’t help closing. I was snoozing hard. Why had I gotten soo tired suddenly? After a good enough attempt to listen I heard two words, “upload google-classroom”. I gently took the jet black phone from her tender baby hands and uploaded her online quiz to the google classroom to be corrected. I had just glanced at the big, fat student copy as the phone rang loudly. “Buzz…buzz”. Hugh? I jerked. Now that sure woke me up from my great slumber. I took the phone from my sister again. To be exact I remember snatching it from her. Yes, I know I should have asked, but anyways. I swiped up the lock-screen and entered the password. The home page popped up in a few seconds as I scrolled down to see who was calling. Ahhh…It was my little, naughty cousin brother. I’d known him since he was two days old and we’d grown as thick as a rainforest ever since. We bonded over the physical time spent initially as kids and later bonded over the internet.

He’s been calling me since and two things happen everytime we e-meet. One, our time extends for hours together and two, we have so much fun that it becomes difficult to sleep the entire night. I always love spending time with him! However, this particular day I was skeptical about it. You see, he had been trying to reach for quite some time and everytime he did something kept coming up and I had to refuse his calls. It was studies, or games or sports or sometimes even meal times. I was making lame excuses for silly reasons because of which I was scared to pick the call up. Of Course, I didn’t mean it but I was just not able to make much time for him. This did bother me a little but I put it in the last cell of my brain. I had a lot of thoughts going on in my head when GASP I was back to reality again. There were two missed calls and I had to call back. I texted him to hold on and returned the phone to my sister. Allowing her to complete the work she was to do. I took the time and set things within myself right. Once my sister was done I stood up to myself and rang my brother. I had my mind all set to apologize incase I had to. I gripped the phone tightly and pushed it against my ears briskly. I took a deep breath and then said a small, sweet, “hello…How are you?”

A crazy voice came pounding out, “Ha..loo…Howwaa…re…yo…u”. I was astounded. When did this guy start having internet issues? It went on for ages together. At this point I gave up. How could someone living in such a big city ever be able to get so many WiFi issues. This was literally impossible. Like hearing a crackle person. “Ba..t…ha…w?”. Why was he doing this? It had been five minutes and it was still going on. Oh! Now I got it. Brothers are never hundred present in what they say. Maybe he was just acting all along. After soo much effort and million requests of teaching me how to do ‘breaking voice’ he started to become normal. Oh and by the way I wanted to know how to do that for real. It would be soo cool to do that in online school and trick all my classmates and teachers. I’ve been asking him to teach me ever since. Once he became a normal person he randomly started shouting to the core of his voice that he couldn’t hear me. He was screaming at the top of his voice. Probably the loudest time I ever heard him. To counter his screams I started texting him for another four minutes continually. I texted him in normal formal English, then shifted to informal, then texting language. I even texted in Telugu but heard no reply.

The call was still on and the milk white text on the top center showed that nine minutes had passed. I was very sure he was just acting off that he couldn’t hear me. He must be partying vividly just by the thought of me assuming that he couldn’t hear me and I was trying to reach out to him badly. Out of frustration I just cut the call and called him time and again. After he was sure he irritated me to his heart’s content because I did not pick his call up. After taking full revenge he spoke to me only at the exact time when I had to sit down for music class. So, now I had to cut the call and make a proper deal with him to e-meet up properly again.

What an amazing prank call it was! It was so much fun that day! I loved talking to him. It’s one of my favorite things to do!

In fact this blog is fully dedicated to him!!

#Brother

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thepariahcontinuum · 2 years

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A set of parahumans for ya!

J. Doe: a stranger who is only visible in reflections, and only able to interact with the physical world when not being observed

(Dealers choice if this is an always-on effect or not)

Mob: a gestalt entity of between three and five individuals who are, in appearance (and capability?) the exact average of the people that surround them. The group cannot spread far from each other (nor can they be left alone!), and unless they concentrate, the appearances/number of individuals that make up Mob will continue to shift to match those nearby.

Cassandra: a fairly powerful master who’s power is fairly straightforward-everything she says sounds completely reasonable and true to those nearby. However, this power is always on, meaning that paradoxically, finding people who *actually* trust her (and aren’t just victims of repeat-exposure) is quite difficult.

I’d love to see your vision of them!

Ooh, you said you were gonna send me these.... let's go.

Also, I know you've already got names but I do enjoy coming up with my own.

J.Doe: Okay I like this idea, it has a lot of potential....What I'm getting personality wise is that she's a mix of Imp and Tattletale, in other words she's an absolute nightmare to deal with. She's a former small time Villain turned Background hero, not actually part of the PRT, they keep her on a leash similar to what the did with Shadow Stalker bit instead loan her out to the Watchdogs where she works to deal with internal affairs and corruption. She would be a lot more effective as a hero if she wasn't coerced into it, as it is she's waiting for the chance to slip the net and use the skills she's learned to step up into the big leagues of villains as in information broker and professional blackmailer. As a Villain she went by "The Haunting" because the turning up in mirrors thing just screams psychological warfare.

Mob: Mob is what happens when a Cluster and Case 70 situation happen at the same time, replication, shapeshifting and some level of Trump power duplication that would let them copy and average out the powers of the Capes around them....I don't have anything exact fleshed out, but I feel like this group/character would definitely be the victim of an attack by the Yangban. Depending on which of the Cluster currently has control they're either an entire squad of faceless goons for hire, an independent hero, a villain who's almost pitiful in how self destructive they are or just straight up catatonic with misery....This really is a tragic mess of a character.

Cassandra: I'm gonna be straight up and say I don't like this as a cape name, mainly cos it's a nickname Tattletale gave to Dinah. Maybe as a given name it works. This power-set screams abusive background, this is somebody who absolutely needed to be able to talk down people who could hurt her and who were very rarely reasonable and once she triggered it was an escape not only because of what it allowed her to do but also because it meant she could flee that situation to go to the PRT. They keep her on hand but she isn't a major part of the roster of the Protectorate roster in her city, because they want flashy powers that get headlines and costumes that look good on posters and action figures....But sometimes, when things go wrong and you can't brute force an issue you need to call in someone who can negotiate with a villain who's taken hostages before a kill order goes out and there's nothing left to lose. I don't have a better name suggestion yet but I'm thinking about it.

#Q&A #ask me anything #AmA #Worm OC #worm web serial #wildbow #Parahumans #Nickelodeon-Brain-Gak

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connoisseursdecomfort · 2 years

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Headcanon

I think by reading people’s minds it means Anya simply knows what they want to express, and that is how she can read animals’ minds. So imagine how a multilingual can use words in different languages to express the same thing, let it be images or emotions or just abstract ideas. It is the “idea” Anya sees, instead of a certain language Anya knows. It is just presented as a dialogue in the anime or the manga because it is easier to do so.

But ideas can be complicated and therefore it requires a certain level of intelligence to truly understand what the person is thinking about (cue “papa’s thoughts are so difficult to understand”). In this sense, it was possible for Anya to complete the crossword puzzle because Anya did not need to analyse anything at all. It’s just copy and paste. But it is much more difficult when she had to make the decision of interpreting and acting upon a certain thought.

However, emotions could be more damaging to Anya. It explains why Anya was fine when she’s at the opera house or the museum, but felt sick at the political rally. Imagine listening to some random guy reading the physics textbook in the background. This would be Anya at the museum. No matter how excited or happy or bored that guy sounds like, if you are not interested, they are just white noise to you. It is rare that someone would get extremely upset in a museum - I guess people could get overly excited but personally it would be amusing to see someone that hyped up in a museum.

On the other hand, a political rally is a frenzy of heated emotions and we don’t need to be a telepath or an esper to feel that. I don’t think it was the amount of thoughts around her that hurt her, it was the “screeching” emotions thrown at her that made her sick. I think that is also why in her first “ooting” she got significantly better once she’s away from the rally, and she was okay just walking around town, but when she used her power to try to read everyone’s mind, meaning that she then had to dive into their thoughts and emotions, her nose started bleeding. I guess that means she only gets sick when she actively try to analyse others’ thoughts, or when the negative thoughts were too much, or too loud, for her to ignore.

When you think about it, if she is FORCED to dive into anyone’s mind near her, she would really have suffered to have Loid to be her dad. (Loid overthinks. The amount of information that is going through Loid’s mind > the total thoughts 100 people are having at the same time.) But she only gets dizzy when she tries to read his mind and swim through his fuck tonnes of thoughts to get what she wants in order to get her homework done in time for her cartoons. And as a child, it’s so much easier to ignore abstract ideas because children at Anya’s age are not developed to fully understand those stuffs yet, but they definitely know what negatives emotions are, even if they don’t have the word for that specific emotion.

(And therefore another headcanon would be that Loid is always calm and rational to a point that he is like a machine. Extreme emotions don’t help when you are a spy. I imagine that is quite comfortable for Anya to be around him, because he almost never “screams”, unless he’s mad at Anya for her grades, but even when he’s mad he’s more worried for her, and the mission of course, than he is angry or annoyed. And he calms down so quickly. Anya just knows that he is a big softie, because she could feel that his emotions are much softened and warmer when he thinks about his family.)

Anyway, thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#spy x family #anya forger #headcanon #I mean it could be old news but #thank you for coming to my ted talk

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ridiculously-over-obsessed · 2 years

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Well that’s it nerds, thirty one drabble things, all of them angsty, and at least three new AUs born from it jdflkgjfdg I’ll throw together a masterpost later so they’re all together, but thank you so much to everyone that’s read and reviewed/reblogged etc, I really appreciate it 🥺 it’s been a tough month but writing these and watching all of you get excited/scream at me about them has really meant a lot and helped lift some of my moods, so seriously, thank you 💖

Also on AO3!!!

DAY THIRTY ONE: SURRENDER (YOUR CHOICE)

“Becs?” Chloe knocked softly at the bathroom door. Beca had been in there a while, “Beca? Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Came the muffled response from the other side of the door, “I’m good. Just... I’m fine Chlo.”

“Can you come out here?” Chloe hadn’t missed how withdraw Beca seemed lately, how insular and sullen she’d become. It was really starting to worry her, “Please? I just to see for myself.”

“Um... not really?”

Chloe’s stomach swooped. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was really wrong. Beca had been clean for nearly three weeks now, but somehow that didn’t seem to be lifting her like it should.

“I’m coming in Beca.” Chloe grabbed the door handle, frowning deeper as it rattled but didn’t open, “Becs, open the door. Please?”

“Chloe I’m fine, please... don’t come in here...” Beca sounded desperate but Chloe didn’t care. Something was wrong, really wrong.

Chloe took a couple of steps back and charged into the door shoulder first. It hurt like hell but she pushed that aside as the door burst open. Chloe’s heart lept into her throat as she saw the carnage waiting for her, the white colour of Beca’s skin, the blood covering her wrists and arms, the way she flinched away from Chloe.

“Oh god...” Chloe ran forward, grabbing a towel and wrapping it tightly around one of Beca’s wrists, pushing it over her head even as Beca struggled weakly against her.

“Let go.” Beca mumbled, tears running down her cheeks, “I can’t do this...”

“AUBREY!” Chloe’s heart was pounding in her chest, Aubrey running in to join them, the colour draining immediately from her face.

“Oh my god...” Aubrey stood dumbfounded, trying to make her body respond but finding herself just frozen to the spot.

“Grab another towel and get her other wrist!” Chloe knew that Aubrey was in shock, but now was not the time to be gentle.

“I’m sorry...” Beca mumbled, head lolling a little as Aubrey brought herself back to the present, copying Chloe, “I couldn’t do it... I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey, don’t you dare!” Chloe shook her head furiously, “Stay awake Beca. You’re okay, we’ve got you.”

Chloe quickly took Beca’s other wrist from Aubrey, trying to quell the raging panic inside her, “Bree call an ambulance.”

“No.” Beca shook her head a little as Aubrey did just that, “Please... I don’t want... no...”

“You are not giving up on us.” Chloe clenched her jaw tightly, “No way in hell. You’ve come too far Becs, okay? You can do this. We’ve got you.”

-----

“How is she?” Chloe was on her feet the second the doctor walked in, her arm in a sling. It turned out that she had dislocated it when she had broken the door down, the pain only registering once Beca was in the safe hands of doctors.

“Very lucky.” The doctor sighed softly, “If you hadn’t knocked the door down like Superwoman, Beca wouldn’t have made it.”

“Ohmygod...” Chloe’s hand covered her mouth as she sank back into her seat, Aubrey’s arm winding around her shoulders gently, “I- I just acted, I didn’t... she would have done the same for me.”

“She lost a lot of blood.” The doctor sat opposite her, smiling gently, “She’ll be out for another few hours yet, but physically, she’ll be absolutely fine. Mentally...”

The doctor trailed off as Chloe shook her head a little, tears running down her cheeks. God what a mess... how had she not seen this coming? How could she have let Beca slip this far?

“Her tox screen.” Aubrey swallowed against the lump in her throat, “Was it...?”

“It was clean.” The doctor grinned, “There was nothing in her system, not even a trace amount.”

“She kept saying she couldn’t...” Chloe sighed heavily, “I just... god I thought she’d relapsed, how could I think that?”

“Addiction is a long, hard battle.” The doctor shook his head, “It was a reasonable thought after only three weeks. One of the trickiest symptoms of cocaine withdrawal is intense depression, and suicidal thoughts and ideations. Unfortunately, I see this kind of thing a lot with people that quit cold turkey.”

“Is this our fault?” Chloe whispered, “She- she wanted to stay here with us in her support system, we thought it would be a good idea, should we have made her go to rehab or-”

“If Beca wanted to be here, then being here was the right decision.” The doctor stopped Chloe’s rambling in its tracks with a kind smile, his hand resting gently on Chloe’s trembling one, “She’s just struggling with an addiction. Is she doing therapy, a support group, something like that?”

“She’s been trying to find one that fits.” Aubrey nodded, “She tried NA, but it was a ‘little too preachy’, her words...”

“I understand that.” The doctor chuckled, “I have some information on different support groups she can try if you want it?”

“Yes.” Chloe nodded furiously, “Please.”

“No problem.” The doctor smiled warmly, “We have to keep her for a psych hold after a suicide attempt, but she can hopefully go home by the end of the week. Do you want to see her?”

“Does she want to see us?” Chloe bit her lip, “She- she seemed mad at me...”

“Once we were getting her up to theatre to stop the bleeding she was asking for you.” The doctor nodded, “She wanted to apologise for being weak.”

“She’s not weak.” Chloe shook her head, “She’s not, she’s the strongest person I know...”

“Let’s go tell her that.” Aubrey smiled softly, “Come on.”

-----

Beca’s head throbbed as her eyelids fluttered open, feeling her heart sink as a ceiling swam into view. Dammit... she was still here. She was still here to fail them, for them to leave her, to end up alone right back where she started, disappointing all of them again.

She’d been weak. Chloe was never going to forgive her for this. She’d given up and let all of them down, had proved just how wrong they were for believing in her.

“Beca? Hey...”

Beca turned her head to the side, her tired eyes finding Chloe’s, the worry in her face making her heart break even more. She’d done that, she’d made all this worse.

“It’s okay.” Chloe’s hand reached out and brushed away the tears running down Beca’s cheeks, “You’re okay Becs.”

Aubrey had gone home for a few hours on Chloe’s insistence, just to sleep and change her clothes. Chloe would go home to do the same when Aubrey got back.

“Your arm...” Beca croaked, frowning deeply, “What... that’s my fault isn’t it?”

“No.” Chloe shook her head, “No it’s the doors fault Becs, it’s mine for charging at it like that. But it is not yours okay?”

“It is.” Beca started to cry harder, “It’s all my fault, I’m not strong enough for all this...”

“Yes you are.” Chloe took Beca’s hand in hers, squeezing it as tight as she dared, “You are more than strong enough Beca. It’s okay, you’ve been really struggling in the last few weeks, but that doesn’t make you weak.”

“I- I bought something.” Beca mumbled, not daring to look at Chloe, “I was going to-”

“But you didn’t.” Chloe pushed, “Your tox screen was clear Beca, you didn��t do anything...”

“I still... I still fucked up...” Beca shook her head furiously, “Why are you still here?”

“Because I care about you Becs.” Chloe let go of Beca’s hand to brush her hair from her face, “You are my best friend, you don’t have to do this alone. I want to be here Beca, I want to help you through this because I know you can beat this.”

“How?!” Beca looked utterly bereft as she looked at Chloe, “How do you know that?!”

“I just do.” Chloe shrugged a little, smiling at Beca sadly, “I know you’re not used to people sticking around, or having your back, but whether you believe it or not, I’m in this for the long haul.”

“I just wanted it to be over.” Beca sobbed, shaking her head a little, “It’s so hard Chloe, my head is so loud, I don’t want to do this anymore...”

“I know.” Chloe’s hand returned to hold Beca’s again, “I know Becs. I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you. But you’ve done so well, you didn’t take the stuff you bought, you... okay you didn’t handle the aftermath amazingly well, but you’re still going to help out of it. It’s okay. We can get you through this, I promise.”

“I’m so tired...” Beca sighed heavily, wiping at her cheeks with her hands, wincing as her wrist throbbed, “Would you be mad if I went to sleep?”

“No Becs.” Chloe shook her head a little, “Get some rest. Bree and I have some stuff for you to look at when you feel a little better, the hospital’s going to set you up with a great therapist too. But that’s all for tomorrow. Today you just get some rest.”

“Okay...” Beca nodded a little, sniffing softly as she rolled onto her side, Chloe running her fingers through her hair again, “Um... I’m sorry Chloe. For- for the way you found me, for all of it... I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Chloe smiled softly, “All I care about is that you’re okay now.”

“I mean... I’m definitely not okay...” Beca mumbled, the slightest of smirks tugging at her lips, “But thanks to you I’m at least alive.”

“And I’m really glad about that.” Chloe grinned.

“Thanks Chlo.” Beca’s eyes were fluttering shut, “I’m really lucky to have you.”

“The feelings mutual Becs.” Chloe promised her, “You’d have done the same for me. Just sleep now, you’ve earned a good rest.”

#pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect edit #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #fanfiction #moodboard: bechloe #my fic #31 day angst challenge #31doa: day thirty one #drabble: bechloe #drabble tag #tw suicide attempt

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