#after one last incident

[milf-propaganda]

im sorry but saying, “we haven’t had intimate relations” in regards to a roleplay involving a fictional character and making that one of the reasons why you’re upset…like…you are not in a real relationship with MY GIRLFRIEND.

[diwns]

i owe college kian a hair dye experience >:[

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Rangi Feelings Theory

Batshit fucking idea I had (man, what way to start this off).

Do I believe it? Not really. Do I think it works/is plausible and is kinda funny? Yeah.

Ok so we can tell Rangi is like super down bad for Kyoshi at the start of the novel, right? We also know Kyoshi seems to be down bad, but doesn't actually realize what she feeling THAT IS until she's running from the cops with Rangi, right?

Cause like, Kyoshi mentions her heart feels like it's falling to pieces when she holds Rangi on the iceberg, but she doesn't realize that's because she's in love with Rangi until like chapters later.

Basically what I'm saying is..... What if Rangi was the same way? TT0TT But the beloved idiot like....didn't realize SHE was in love with KYOSHI until say...... Kyoshi kisses her at the lake?

Like what if Rangi was like "oh yeah this is totally normal, running away with my bff! The same bff that makes my heart feel like it's being ripped from my chest Alien Style! <3" up until the lake scene....and then she gets kissed and is like "OH SO THAT'S WHAT THAT WAS!" jkfldsajfl; TT0TT

Cause like, no, this would explain her absolutely, abysmal level shit flirting with Kyoshi those past two years. jsalkfjd She's not running around to impress Kyoshi because she thinks that's the way to her heart. She's running around to impress Kyoshi because she doesn't understand what's she's feeling and is just trying to look cool. klajsf *sobs*

And it would explain how she flips the switch so fucking fast when it comes to flirting. Girl goes from Z--- tier to SSS+++ tier in like a millisecond. TT0TT And doesn't lose momentum like AT ALL!

Basically the theory is "What if Rangi was as oblivious as Kyoshi, if not more so, for her feelings towards Kyoshi this entire time?"

[s-u-g-a-r-rush1997]

Could you do turbo x reader where reader is a background racer from turbo-Time?

I kind of got a bit carried away with this one just a bit. I enjoyed writing it too much, maybe. It's not angsty, per say, but it's kind of a little sad. I tried to write it with a more romantic pairing, but it kind of came out as an unrequited crush.

Sorry, Turbo's too focused on Roadblasters and is fucking oblivious.

Pairing: Turbo x reader

Rating: safe for work

Warnings: None, though Turbo is kind of an ass in this one What else is new

Turbo-Time background racer reader and Turbo

If the Turbo twins were a pair, then you and Turbo were too, just with opposing dynamics. Or, well, you’d like to think so. You did share his colors, after all – though perhaps that was more a product of a limited color palette than anything.

Where the twins were programmed to be identical, to have the exact same level of skill when it came to racing, you and Turbo had an opposing dynamic. That is to say, while Turbo’s skill in racing was excellent, yours left something to be desired. You were, quite literally, designed to fail. A third place prize isn’t a prize at all if there’s no one worse off – it’s just last place.

Perhaps that’s why he was so attached to you. It seemed counterintuitive at first glance; he was so full of himself, so confident in his popularity and skill, that associating with someone who was designed to have none seemed beneath him. But you weren’t a rival like the twins. Sure, Turbo was programmed to be the best, but during the opening hours of the arcade, his skill was dependent entirely on the player. While an awful player could mean a victory for one of the Twins, it meant nothing for you.

So you were his only companion; by his choice, of course. It clearly had nothing to do with how insufferable people thought he was. How loudly he talked. How he craved attention more than anything.

You hated to admit it – you didn’t want to think of him that way – but you were starting to see why people thought that.

“I don’t understand,” he’d shouted the moment the arcade closed for the night, “I’m the greatest racer this arcade has ever seen. Why would anyone want to play Roadblasters?” The name was spat from his tongue like it was something sour and unpleasant.

You sighed and leaned against the side of his car, tired. You’d heard this rant repeated over and over for the past three days now. Even still, you listened, draping an arm across his back and pulling him close.

You squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “They just want to see the new game, that’s all.”

This jealousy would pass, just as it always did. He was more worked up than you’d ever seen him, but it would all be okay in the end. He’d go back to his normal self. Soon, you’d be back to hanging out at Tappers. Maybe he’d show you more of his drawings he so carefully hid from everyone else. Maybe he’d take you for a ride in his Kart – you hadn’t done that together for a long time now.

“They’ve already seen it!” Turbo argued, arms flailing wildly, shattering the illusion, “it’s been days now. More than long enough! Roadblasters isn’t new anymore. Players should be coming back here by now.”

You catch his wrist, and his attention, wrapping his hand in your own. “The players love you, Turbo.” He laces his fingers with yours. His palm is a little sweaty, but you don’t mind.

He grins wildly, his lips pulled back so far it almost looked more like a grimace. “Of course they do!”

“Of course they do,” you repeat, smiling warmly, “you’re the greatest racer in the whole arcade, you said so yourself.” He preens under the praise. “So, let’s just forget about them, at least for tonight.”

Turbo grits his teeth. His fingers dig into your hand just a bit too firmly to feel comfortable. He sucks his teeth with a hiss. Just when you think he’s going to start arguing again he, somehow, manages to bite his tongue.

“How about one last race?” he finally offers with that same wild, grimace of a smile.

“You’ll just lap me!” you argue. But there’s no bite in your words. You don’t actually mind losing.

Turbo looks at you with this stupid, arrogant smirk – but it’s a genuine smile. It meets his eyes, and they crinkle at the edges. “You’re just a sore loser.”

“Fine,” you scoff, “one last race."

You adjust the straps of your helmet. You rev your engine loudly as the countdown begins. And for good measure you turn to look at him.

“Eat my dust, Turbo!” you call out to him, just before you speed off together. You don’t get much time to look at him, but he was smiling. Brows furrowed, lips pulled back almost as if he was snarling. And he cackles when he passes you. It’s no surprise when he does lap you. Of course he boasts. But you don’t mind. He’s happy. He’s forgotten Roadblasters.

And maybe come morning, when the arcade opens and players come flooding in, his rivalry would stay forgotten.

[sil3ntm0thart]

my fields of mistria farmer! really like the game!

[yardsards]

hysterectomies should be easy to just call your doctor and schedule one for next week and only cost one hundred dollars. like spaying a cat.

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

I really want to make a DRDT Confessions account after CH2 is over because I love hearing other people's thoughts and opinions even if I personally disagree with them, I think it would be fun to see what people submit, and I think having spaces like confession accounts is very important when it comes to fandom. but at the same time confession accounts from what I've seen tend to get very out-of-hand (>_>||)

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[ectonurites]

SUPER DARK TIMES (2017) DIR. KEVIN PHILLIPS

also, honorable mention to the original script for this scene:

[peaches2217]

I come from a family of singers, and while I didn’t inherit the Actually Good at Singing gene, I used to love singing anyway. I’ve always been an alto, and my deeper voice was always a point of pride for me! I was into musical theatre, and when I would actually be cast, I’d find as many loopholes as possible to sing lower than I was supposed to. I wanted to be a Broadway actress. But I wanted to play women’s and men’s roles. I wanted to be known as the woman who could be a man just as easily and just as flawlessly.

But after a, uh, particular incident at a singing contest, I realized just how much I actually sucked and swore off singing for the rest of my life; I’ve been slowly allowing myself to sing again through my twenties, but never where others can hear.

While my speaking voice hasn’t dropped as much since starting T, my singing voice has. I’ve been testing my low range by singing the opening of The Reincarnation of Benjamin Breeg and seeing how many notes I can actually hit, and I’ve been kinda dissatisfied, because I still can’t hit the bottom notes. But as of late I’ve found myself cranking off into musical theatre pieces whenever I’m alone and cleaning or driving or what have you, and the more I go through, the more I realize my voice is, at present, so much closer to the voice I always wanted growing up.

While cleaning the windows at work, I cranked off on the most hilariously passionately rendition of Who I’d Be, which has always been one of my favorites, but one I could never sing; it went too low, and raising the key took it too high outside of my range. Now? I can hit every last note. Not well, of course, but I never once struggled in the lows. Now I can’t stop singing it, because I’ve wanted to sing it since I was thirteen and now I finally can and I’m needlessly emotional over it.

I dunno. It’s just nice. This is the first time I’ve felt happy about my voice since I was in middle school, and it’s empowering in an odd sorta way.

[nejackdaw]

Thinking about Celann and his ever present grief at the life he could have had, he and his wife and (he always hoped) their daughter. A life where he was a father--he'd hardly ever wanted anything more than that. So full of love he was ready to burst and needed somewhere to put it, wanted a life with his favorite girls.

Thinking about how the ever present desire haunts him no matter how deep he buried it. It keeps coming back, relentlessly, this anguish that he threw it all away. He could have had exactly what he wanted and he was stupid enough to abandon it all, and for what? Because he was upset? But then he always remembers how hollow he felt after the incident, like if you rapped him with a knuckle you'd hear he was just a shell. He forgives himself, then, remembers how wrong everything felt, and he thinks about all the time he spent desperately trying to make everything feel right again.

Remembers when he realized he was the problem, what needed to be fixed. Removed.

He abandoned the life he had and every dream he'd ever held close because he wasn't him anymore. Celann would never have killed anyone, would never have done... that. He was some other Celann, different, trying to make himself fit in the life of a man that no longer existed. And so he left.

And he has no right to ache so badly at the thought of what he gave up, no right to ache at the loss of a family (of two families, but he starts thinking that and breaks every time, so he's gotten good at simply skipping over the thought) when he was a killer--an adept one, a practiced one--that could mangle and maul and kill and do it again and again. What right does he have to still want that happy little dream?

But the dream is a ghost and it haunts him, is there every time he's out on a supply run and sees kids playing around the marketplace, sees women cradling infants and fathers carrying sons on their shoulders. (He reminds himself of the blood on his hands, is scared he might stain them with it if he reaches out to touch them.) It's there when he has a bag and his axe hanging from his hips and finds a girl crying for her mother, lost and separated, jostled by the crowd.

It's there as he calms her, kneeling on wet and gritty stone, hovering between her and the flow of the crowd so they give her space. He lifts her and holds her against his side with one arm and something in him weeps, feels something soft in him as her tiny weight settles and she starts chattering at him about the groceries she and her mother came to buy.

They weave their way through the marketplace as they help each other--she tells him where he can find what he needs, and he silently curses the nords and their height as he tries to peer over shoulders to catch a glimpse of the woman she described--and that cold weight that's usually settled in his chest, his grief and remorse, lightens with every step. She's warm through his sweater and splutters indignantly every time the ever changing wind blows her brown hair into her mouth and he laughs, quiet and warm.

They check places she's already been, in case her mother doubled back looking for her, and take detours so Celann can fumble to place newly acquired groceries in the bag beneath her, unwilling to hold her over the side with his axe and equally unwilling to put her down, awkwardly shifting her weight as she laughs at him. He's silly for buying such expensive things, she tells him, and he light heartedly tells her Skyrim is silly for not having the things he used to use in High Rock. The revelation he hasn't always lived in Skyrim excites her to no end, and the rest of the trip is a Q&A of the sort only a small child can provide.

He feels warm inside, in his chest, where usually he feels vaguely cold at best, and for a moment he's reluctant to relinquish her when they finally find her mother, guided by the sounds of panicked calls of her name. There's a fond sadness as he sets her down on the stones again, and the woman looks at him oddly for a moment before the look turns knowing, though he's sure the conclusion she reached is slightly off.

She quietly asks if her daughter reminds him of her. He stands there silently for a moment, looking down at the little girl as she rifles through the things her mother's found.

He tells her yes.

[yourfavrain]

I am badly in love with Vanessa from the fnaf movie.

[grumpy-nyks]

The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction - Davor edition

I-I think Ms. Verner doesn't like him...😳

Davor "Dove" Kovač 🐝 RO: Becca Warrick

Personality: cautious // aloof // pessimistic // flirtatious (only towards Becca ...and Reese??) Traits: head // independent // resistance // believer Past affinity: math Primary ability: extrasensory awareness Past susceptibility: forward. 'it’s better to push forward. don’t look back on the past when you have new places to be and things to achieve.' <<< his motto

🕊️ Fernweh: Davor lived a happy life there and didn't think about leaving in the future. Maybe for some trips, but he knew it would always be his place, his safe place... 'It was a mistake to come back here.' - that was his first thought when he tried to fall asleep on the first night in Fernweh. The nightmares came back as he thought they would. He wants to leave as soon as possible because he feels that it is not safe for Becca to be here.

🕊️ Gramps Dan: That was his gramps who taught Davor how to play the guitar. As a young child, Davor always admired him and believed he was the most intelligent person in the world. After the death of his parents and how his grandfather treated him, he was devastated and angry. He wanted answers soo badly but didn't get any. He lived loathing his grandfather ever since. The news of his passing stirred up a lot of negative emotions that Davor had previously managed to suppress. At the beginning of the story he couldn't care less about his grandfather, but because of his journal he started to believe him. Things that his granfather lived through made Davor even more angry at this messy town …but he's willing to forgive his gramps…

🐝 Becca Warrick: It was a ...funny story that brought both of them together and they look after each other ever since. He considers Becca as his precious (not in a negative-possessive way) treasure, he literally can't let anything bad happen to her. That was also she who came up with the nickname 'Dove'... (and she's literally the only person who calls him that, others wouldn't dare...). He had feelings for her for quite some time but didn't act on it... until now. Although he didn't express it, he felt very nervous about Becca being in the town where he grew up. He was curious (but also scared) about what she could think of this town. He felt like he was revealing more of himself to her…. and he forgot about any worries pretty fast, because the town started being weird as fu--.

🕊️ Reese Verner: Back then Davor was quite cheerful and enjoyed competing with Reese regularly. They teased each other a lot. Davor always thought that Reese had a crush on him, was it true tho? donut know, but he certainly had. ...why does he appear in his nightmares? Maybe the crush stage never disappeared...? Seeing him again was a nice experience, sure... but ignoring the circumstances, he is still unsure if it was worth it and is struggling with his thoughts… Would it be worth it to return to Fernweh just to see him... again? welp, good thing he doesn't have to think about it much, am I right?

🕊️ Sofia Dorran: The two of them maybe did not have a strong relationship, but he knew Sofia is the ideal person for engaging in intelligent conversations. He enjoyed spending time with her, solving the puzzles that gramps created for them both. Davor wasn't a fan of fantasy books, but she managed to change his mind about them. Davor knows that Sofia did take good care of his grandfather, but he still doesn't quite know if he's grateful for that or wished she spent her time more... valuably... He was tempted to ask Sofia to borrow that book she found in his grandfather's bedroom, but he thought better of it. It's better to leave Fernweh… Even so, his curiosity wasn't properly fed.

🕊️ James Corvin: Maybe not brothers by blood, but definitely brothers by choice. Davor treated him as if he was the brother he always wanted to have. Back then Davor always placed a high value on his family… until now. At the time, Davor tended to be more impulsive and James was usually the one who kept him from getting into trouble (which often involved Reese). It was really hard, for both of them, to see each other after so long. Their first interaction was pretty awkward... I would even say that most of their interactions were . James noticed how Davor changed the question is: for the better or worse? I don't even know. Everyone can sense, that things around them are different now, and they aren't as close as before. Will it change?

🕊️ Alek Corvin: …To say that Alek wasn't a fan of Davor would be an understatement. Was it because James spent most of his time focusing only on Davor trying to get him out of trouble? Did Alek observe any possessiveness from Davor towards James? Or maybe simply because of the bond between those two, which was truly something that others would envy and desire? Davor never considered it, especially when he left Fernweh permanently. :)) As you can imagine, Alek doesn't seem very happy about Davor's return… But he took an interest in his new friend, Becca, which did not go unnoticed by Davor and he isn't really happy about it.

🕊️ The Waitress: Oh boy, it seems that Davor has taken up a new hobby, which is glaring harshly at the waitress. He finds her mistrustful and he smells trouble. Had they met when he was younger, there may have been a slim chance of them getting along.

🕊️ Waffles!: So um… Davor has a little issue with dogs and because of that his relationship with Waffles isn't as wonderful as I wish it would be... However, I believe that with time and help from Becca, they will eventually become friends.

[songtwo]

idk i think my bf might be developing a drinking problem and i just don’t know what to do…..

[lemonyinks]

Rokk and Lyle grieve in the wake of the outpost tradgedy

Rokk and Lyle oneshot

860 words

One of the last things Rokk remembered was the ships alarm blaring in his ears. It had been so loud and piercing that it rattled his bones and made it hard to even think among all of the noise and chaos. That and the fire. So much fire. It melted away at the metal structure and sent debris crashing down around him and his teammate as they tried to flee. The sweltering heat had been overwhelming, blistering, and scorching hot.

The ship had been collapsing around him, walls warping themselves into frightening curved shapes as the ceiling caving in on them. It was much like being buried alive; claustrophobic and panic inducing. He wasn’t even sure how he made it out alive in the end, but somehow, against all odds, he did.

His eyes snapped open and he forced his aching body to sit up before he even had a chance to take in his surroundings. He cried out in pain, pulse racing as he tried to climb to his feet. He had to make sure everyone was okay, he had to get out of here, he had to get everyone else out, he had to-

Hands grabbed his shoulders and shoved him down, gentle despite the forcefulness of the gesture. He blinked his crusty eyes a few times, willing the black dots swimming in his vision to dissipate, before a white ceiling came into focus, along with half of a bruised face with concerned eyes. He turned to properly look at the person who was sitting with him and found Lyle.

He was dressed in civilian clothes and looking worse for wear. Every bit of visible skin peeking out of his long sleeve shirt was speckled with deep, purpling bruises. His left eye was swollen and bloodshot, sutures pulling the eyelid down to hold a deep laceration shut, his lip split.

His hands, still holding Rokk’s shoulders’ gently, were wrapped up almost entirely in white bandages that were occasionally marred by spots of red. Worst of all though were the tears glistening in his red eyes, which foretold of tragedies Rokk wasn’t sure he was ready to hear, but would have to anyway.

“Stay down,” Lyle said as he pulled the blanket Rokk had evidently been laying under back up to cover his bandaged chest. His voice was raspy, whether from crying or as a side effect of all the smoke that had been flooding the outpost, Rokk didn’t know, “You have several broken ribs and a fractured femur. You could hurt yourself.”

“What-” He broke off into a cough, throat dry. Lyle helped him drink from a glass he hadn’t noticed from the bedside table before guiding him to lay back down. He tried again, “What happened?”

“You were hit by debris in the evacuation process and were pinned. Gates was the one who got you out.” Lyle said in a shaky voice. Rokk dreaded the answer to his next question, but he had to know, he just had to.

“What about the others? Garth, Imra?” When Lyle didn't reply immediately Rokk's heart sank. "Lyle, just tell me. What happened to them?"

His first friends, his best friends, the loves of his life. They had to be okay, because if they weren’t, what would he do? Despite all their fighting, they were some of the only people who made him feel like he was someone.

“They-They didn’t make it.” Lyle said after a moments hesitation, voice breaking. Rokk felt as though the world was crashing down around him. Tears flowed from from his eyes in an instant. “They’re gone, Cos. Garth, Imra, Tasmia, Jazmin, Jan, Jo, Drake, Gates, Candi, Reep, B-Brainy… They’re all gone.”

Lyle cried, tears cascading down his cheeks, relentless even as he scrubbed at them with the edge of his sleeve. Rokk’s own tears burned hot trails down his temples as he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the inevitable outpour of grief.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

Lyle reach a hand out and interlaced his fingers with Rokk’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. It was a comforting gesture, the feeling of the scratchy bandage rubbing against his skin grounding in a way. Rokk squeezed back before choking on a sob. It burned, settling an ache deep in his chest. 

“They’re holding a funeral next week,” Lyle said through tears, “Brande pushed the date back. He wanted to make sure you would be able to attend.” 

“What are we going to do? What am I going to do?” Rokk asked in lieu of an answer. His voice was strangled as sobs freely fell from his lips.

“What we always do, Cos. We’ll carry on.” Lyle said, tone firm despite his endless tears.

Rokk couldn't find it in him to conjure up a response. Instead, he let himself cry harder as Lyle held his hand.

Soon they would have to be strong. Soon there would be no time for tears. Soon they would pick up the pieces of their losses and try to make the most of what they had left.

For now, though, Rokk would grieve.

[fettery-fetterie]

I'm just kinda thinking over what could it been had things gone just. Just every so slightly better

Had some fundamentals been challenged further

Had the right words be spoken

Had they didn't go all in

It's just so sad, because I ultimately do see them working on the right scenarios, but they're all just...fantasy, a fleeting dream, the unreachable

Oughhhh I love them so much. They're so doomed