I've possibly been entranced by another gacha game with a clown and incredibly cool and fascinating characters that is a frustrating puzzle to figure out everything that's being said.
Anyways, I'm incredibly gay for the Fool and completely in love with Druvis so we're here. They're constantly rotating in my brain at the moment.
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@superbglitterpeach
Thank you! You put this as a submission instead of an ask, so I can't respond to it directly. I should hope you're not as traumatised as they are lol! Sibling relationships can be so special sometimes. I can't relate, because I can't stand my brother, but it's always nice to hear about people who are close to their siblings.
Previous. Sam learns the truth as she bleeds out on Amber Freeman's kitchen floor. Amber and Richie are downright manic as they reveal the truth, that they're making a movie and Sam's the star... villain. Billy Loomis' daughter. Sidney and Gale are shocked, their heads snapping to Sam, but Sam can't look away from the two Ghostface's. What the hell are they talking about?
"Oh, you didn't know? Tara knew. "She's known for years," Amber gleefully tells her. Amber reveals how Tara had confessed to her last year while drunk, crying about how she ruined her sister, destroyed her life, finally chased her away. It was so pathetic, Amber laughs. Sam's mind is reeling while Amber monologues the whole story. It doesn't seem real... but it makes sense, doesn't it? Tara was scared of her, wasn't she? That's why she pulled away once she knew the truth. She thought she might be just like her real father.
Sam sits in the back of the ambulance, Tara's hand in hers, and she asks her why? She knows why, but she has to ask, she has to hear it from her. There's no need to elaborate, Tara knows what she's asking. She regrets it as tears immediately fill her sister's eyes.
"I was so scared," Tara whimpers. And oh, Sam thought she was prepared to hear this, but it hurts so much more than she thought it would.
"I didn't want to lose you." Wait, what?
"Mom she- she said I couldn't tell you, that it would hurt you, that you would hate me, and then the older I got I wanted to tell you so badly, I felt so guilty... but I was a coward, I'd kept it a secret for so long... I thought you would hate me if I told you the truth."
Sam lets out a shaky breath, closing her eyes and holding Tara's hand to her mouth. Her mother. It all comes back to her mother.
"I love you," she whispers to her sister. "We'll talk more later. Let's just... let's just forget everything else and focus on getting better first, yeah?" Sam needs time to process everything, for her new reality to sink in.
"Are we ok?" Tara whispers back, nervous, terrified of the answer.
Sam reaches over to cup her cheek. "Always."
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Not to make light of how much your situation must fucking suck, because I have lung problems and be almost literally dying in your place, but that's actually a good prompt idea! So, something either to do with exhaust/exhausted/exhausting or smoke-inhalation/pollution/trouble breathing, can be any one of those words
(it's fine mostly i just have a sore throat now. this also may or may not be related to my ongoing several day headache streak come to think of it. BUT ANYWAY they're done now so it's fine)
(aaah fuck this prompt... fighting so hard not to do a rain world or dishonored thing... there are Too Many good options i'm indecisive. uh hm. ive been toying with the idea of doing a regular non crossover postapoc style au so maybe...? also maybe throw in a rei bc feel like i've been neglecting my failboy in aus, lol.)
You don't go out without a filter. This is one of the most basic facts the people of the aftermath learn. You learn it quickly, or you die. Ingo knows this.
Unfortuantely, he also knows he didn't have much of a choice. His own mask is long gone, a trophy decorating some creature's den most likely, and Rei's already injured and weak, and their last shelter had been compromised. And they were close. So close to their destination—the home Rei was fighting his way back to, a place that promised safety.
He keeps repeating all this to himself, with every forced step, every it can't be far now—but he wonders, too, if he's made a mistake. If there wasn't some other option he overlooked. If he's doomed both of them.
The air reeks of chemical fumes and smoke. The cloth he's pressing over his face is more of a joke than anything useful; his nose and throat feel like something's been raking its claws down them; his eyes are stinging and blurry and now it's getting hard to see anything at all. His thoughtless animal hindbrain begs him to take deeper breaths, to salvage whatever oxygen they can get as fuel, but he fights that because he knows it'll only make everything worse. Occasionally he's overwhelmed by hacking coughs that burn, that force more poisoned air to cycle through. Rei is dead weight against his shoulder, completely reliant on him to keep moving, which is the only reason he is moving.
And then Rei swats his shoulder, weakly trying to get his attention, and points insistently in the direction of something. It might be a door, although he's not sure he would have noticed it, if not for the label tacked up over it in letters that are too blurred to read.
He drags them both towards it, fights it open—gives up on shallow breaths in this home stretch, just focused on getting through—and somehow manages to pull both himself and Rei up the ledge and inside. He's vaguely aware that the shouts and clicking sounds are alarm and suspicion and something that should make him jump and raise his hands in surrender—but, no longer faced with a critical task to complete, his body decides now is an excellent time to shut down. So it does.
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