#and besides... he doesn't think you like him that much anyways

[payidaresque]

i really don't think all galadriel feels is pride though. sure, her pride got hurt because sauron decieved her (and she trusted him), and she wants to slay him because she wants to say "i am nothing like you see me" (which is not entirely true, by the way), but her feelings are actually much more complex than that and it can't be categorized and narrowed down to one word. which is why i love her: she is just as complex as sauron

she trusted him. and as far as i've known this galadriel, trust is not something that comes easy to her. and she's not exactly a "chatty type" either, but somehow (let's put aside all the "evil incarnate" bs for a second, and just look at this as if it's a relationship between 2 normal people), she met someone (halbrand) who understood her, is probably as stubborn as her, someoone who didn't tell her what to do (and she's been told what to do by EVERYONE: elrond, gil-galad, her brother- and who knows who else), and just... accepted her for who she was? even tho they weren't nice to each other at first

halbrand helped her, she considered him a friend, they fought beside each other, she opened up to him about her feelings (which is not an easy thing to do even for a human, not to mention an elf). she felt the connection between them when he was just a human to her

so yeah, hurt pride is involved for sure, but beneath that is so much more: the pain, because galadriel feels like gave sauron too much and he exploited it, the anger, because she feels that even though she knows who sauron is now, she misses that feeling she had when he was halbrand, and she's not supposed to miss it, she's supposed to despise sauron and everything related to him now, but as i already explained in this post, she can't do that, because the connection they had (still have — but it's sort of a different connection now) is too strong, and it's fear because she also knows that not everything sauron said on that raft is a lie (which is partially confirmed by adar's speech from ep 6 by the way)

yes, she wants to slay sauron because he is a threat to her kind and all ME, but she also wants to slay him because in her mind, that way she'll be free of him and every feeling she has for him.

but whether it'll solve the matter or not, is actually up to Galadriel herself: slaying him won't change anything if she doesn't want to forget him

anyway. i love me a complex female character ✨

[stanpinesdykewife]

Drabble request: stan/ female reader

Stan showing the reader how to pool at a bar or the shack. Reader may already know and just wants to put on the act just so she can have Stan be ever so conveniently close to her, they way he guides her leaning in his whole body into hers just to get the aim right on the cue ball.

i had to look up the rules of pool for this HAHAHA but here you go! this one takes place in a bar and for horny reasons (no matter the gender) reader is wearing shorts. thank you so much for the ask i went cross-eyed writing this because i was thinking so hard in my head!! enjoy!!

pool stan/reader (gender-neutral) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified suggestive, 852 words

You're tipsy enough to admit you like the attention when a man much older than you swaggers over from across the bar and starts mansplaining the rules of pool. It helps that he's handsome, his button-up shirt opened low, a thick gold medallion hanging over his chest, his jaw nice and square and strong.

“Like this?” you say airily, leaning over the pool table just slightly, planting your non-dominant hand on the baize. The man chuckles beside you, but his eyes rove over your body with an intensity that makes you blush.

“You're gonna wanna lean all the way over it, sweetheart. Real low. So you can aim.” He says it through a cocksure grin, nodding at the edge of the pool table. You stifle a laugh at the blatant flirt, then readjust your footing.

“Right. Like this?” You bend over the pool table, reaching one arm out in front of you with the end of the cue stick above your thumb. Your dominant hand rears back, holding it loosely. You grin freely, out of sight, when the man comes closer to you.

“Getting there,” he says, encouraging. His hand touches your elbow, raising it higher so your cue is at a better angle. Then he leans over you slightly, his body warm behind yours as he touches your dominant hand next. “Hold this a little tighter for me. There we go.”

You adjust your grip, tightening your hand on the cue, then shift your weight so you're leaning comfortably on the pool table. It's hard against your hips, but your new friend's touch distracts you from that, drowns out the music of the bar, the chatter of the other patrons surrounding you. All you can focus on is him.

“Now, this arm,” he says, slowly sliding a large hand down your non-dominant arm in front of you, “this arm doesn't move. Only thing you gotta worry about is keeping it steady.”

“Keep it steady. Got it,” you say, your eyes flickering to the side. His hand almost completely covers your own, the warm weight of it sending electricity through your arm. He has to lean over you slightly to reach, not quite on top of you, but close enough that the warmth from his chest crawls up your spine, slow and intense, like lava flowing upwards over your body. You lower your chest slightly, arching your back, and your breath hitches when your ass lightly touches the front of his pants. “And then I just hit the white ball?”

“Right. Remember now, you're sinking the stripes,” he says, voice low. He draws his hand back, gliding up to your elbow as his other one floats to your hip. He smells expensive, his cologne spicy and woody, his clothes marked with the smoky scent of cigars. You take a slow breath in, savoring it, and when you breathe out, your hips shift back to meet his. He's warm, or maybe it's the booze, or maybe it's the intoxicating feeling that rushes into you when you feel him press closer. “Got it?”

“Got it,” you repeat. But your voice is hazy and unfocused as the man squeezes your hip, almost pulls you further into him. He's half-hard, that has to be what you’re feeling, and it hits you suddenly that you're basically grinding on a stranger in a dimly-lit bar. You tilt your head, addressing him as his large hand creeps up beneath your shirt, teasing the skin beneath. “Hey. What's your name, anyway?”

“Stan,” he says, a smile in his voice. You hum. Then you shoot. The cue ball hits a striped ball straight-on, right in line with another one near the edge of a side pocket. Both of them sink, the cue ball bouncing gently against the rail. Stan's hand freezes. Behind you, he rises to his full height. You push off the pool table enough to turn around, your knees knocking against his, and you laugh at the stunned expression on his face as he stares at the pocket.

“Hey,” you say, drawing his attention to you. You grin at him, holding your cue stick loosely in one hand as you bring the other to his front. Your fingertips dip over the fabric of his shirt, touching the exposed skin of his hairy chest. The medallion glimmers in the bar's low light, and your gaze flickers to Stan's chain, his lips, his deep brown eyes. You slide your hand up, tugging gently at his chain. “You wanna get out of here?”

Stan blinks at you, and for a second he looks like a dumb, handsome idiot, a flush on his face, his hands floating in the air near your hips. But then he chuckles. He hooks a finger in one of your belt loops and tugs your hips to his. This time, you know for sure: he's half-hard, and he's shameless about it.

“You tell me,” Stan says, a sharpness to his charismatic grin. Heat flutters in your stomach.

You both leave so quickly, neither of you realize you're still holding the pool cue until you're halfway into his car.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Okay okay. I just had this beautiful mental image of competence kink Steve. And my brain produced two fairly different images: Steve sees Bucky do something incredible during a mission. Idk what. And *oh*, he pops a boner right there and then, as much as the cup of his suit allows anyway. He can barely wait to get off the quinjet post mission, much to the team's amusement, to blow Bucky and then fuck into next week because holy shit hot

Or, Steve having an unfairly wet dream about WS!Bucky in the leather and incredible skills with all the knife tricks and so on and feeling very guilty about that. Because getting the horny from something Bucky had no control over? Not cool, at least in his mind. Bucks somehow gets him to spill though, and then ties Steve up and uses his knife skills to get him out of his clothes very efficiently, leaving Steve there as a panting and moaning mess Uh yeah my brain melted a little

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Oh, fuck yeah, I love competency kink. We can certainly talk about that and soak in the brain melt together, lol

Besides, we all know that that fucker has one

gifs by @/linusbenjamin

and this moment haunts him 😏 because of it.

Plus, that single shield catch isn't even to mention the million other examples I could think of for Steve's fixation on the Winter Soldier. The ghost is strutting around in what's practically fetish gear, like, c'mon, give Steve some slack. It's leather and straps and shimmering metal and decisive, confident combat. Motherfucker.

I am SO fucking down to think about Steve watching Bucky execute some incredible feat on a mission and getting turned on because of it, and I will expand on that in a minute. But, also, the second option, too. YES. Steve wet dreaming about the Winter Soldier? God, it's more than just likely, that shit absolutely happened.

(I did write something about those wet dreams in this ask answer under "war paint")

(Also, you need to see this art, that is... yup. Knives and bondage and competency.)

Okay, competency on missions driving Steve insane...

(warning for canon typical violence!)

It happens like this: one instant Steve is solely focused on strangling the underling that's freshly come at him 'cause he's just trying to get through the masses of them before he can actually disarm this whole fucking shitty, dangerous situation alongwith it's leader, and the next instant Steve is totally, completely, and entirely distracted from getting an arm around this fuckers throat, squeezing off his air between his forearm and bicep. It could not be farther from his mind, really.

Rather than thinking about how he can best discard this underling and move on to the next--always plotting his following move, what punch should he throw, what kick, where's his shield, how should he throw his shield, who's around him, and are they his teammates or this month's big enemy--he's aching, not thinking, aching to drop to his knees. It is a visceral, very unchill reaction that Steve can't fucking control. There is no way on god's green earth.

The wanting to drop like a fly isn't because he's tired and ready to give in and surrender, nah, he could do this all day, it's because he's at fucking full mast in his uniform pants so suddenly that he needs a goddamn break from himself. His own hyperreactive body. It's dizzying, debilitating, how his blood rushes from circulating oxygen as fast as it can to his bulging, burning, working muscles to pooling heavy and hot in his cock.

All that hot, thick blood filling his dick out as he moves and twists, grappling with his fucking random ass bad guy, and threatening, incidentally, to rub himself salaciously against the hard pressure of his athletic cup.

His cup is cupping him.

He's big, he can't not. He's got no fucking room. It's... yeah, it's, just--

Jesus Christ.

Steve's aching to drop to his knees and more. It doesn't stop at getting to his knees. One moment and he has the worst kind of desperate craving crashing through him, leaving him hankering for the sensation of firm, muscular legs squeezing around his throat, the pressure tight on both sides, making him feel like his head might explode as he gasps for air or he might pass out without any air or he might cum from pure fucking lust at how hot it is or all of the above all at once.

All at once.

It is an onslaught of arousal. Just. His appetency is un-fucking-checked for the tingling, sharp burn of fingers raking through his hair and pulling hard until he feels it in his scalp and skittering down his back, richly feeding the fire at the base of his spine. He needs to feel body heat suffocatingly around his neck and shoved up against him from behind. Heat painted like thick, sticky tar up the nape of his neck to the crown of his head.

And all that weakening fucking hunger is inspired by one instant. A single flash that he catches, lightning-fast, out of the corner of his eye.

Dark leather molded to fit a shapely body perfectly, sinfully, waves of hair flowing like water, and the distinct glint of silver metal caught in the sun, flashy and, just, sexy.

Bucky.

Bucky, who's barely just been able to be comfortable in combat again after deprogramming but is ever-skilled. Honed. Deadly and gorgeous as a honey trap.

Bucky, who has spent more hours in the gym training with Natasha than anyone else combined--something about mutual trauma and understanding and trust.

Bucky in elegant, lethal motion, wrapping himself like a lithe snake around his own steroid-fit underling, his burly thighs squeezed around the baddies thick, muscular throat, his veins bulging in strain, balanced perfectly on his broad shoulders, and keeping the power in his own mismatched hands. The palm of his hands, like it's easy.

Bucky is fucking winning, it's plain to see. No sweat.

Bucky has shocked this baddie by mounting him, throwing his weight around with ease in a way that shouldn't be possible for a man his size. Better, Bucky has thrown him even further off, fisting a hand into his hair cruelly, pulling so hard that his choices are to let his hair be ripped out and deal with the gritting pain or follow the hold and put himself in worse danger, prolonging the time before the pain. The unnamed baddie follows, of course. Anyone would follow someone as intoxicating and beautiful as Bucky. But he's then pinned there, throat fully exposed. Perilous. The most animal form of submission, this time forced and humiliated by defeat.

Bucky is the dominant fighter.

He is in control.

And he is making it known with what would be sickening glee if Steve was anyone but himself--if Steve wasn't so fucking aroused by watching Bucky wield himself as a weapon of his own choosing, taking control, and reveling in doing good.

God.

With his thighs around his neck, Bucky deftly plucks a long, sharp knife from its holster strapped onto his mouth-watering thigh and twists and twirls it around his fingers before holding it against the underling's throat. The threat is crystal clear and needs no further explanation: move and its lights out for you.

So, the underling folding to his mercy, Bucky slowly, slowly contorts his body, displaying his oh-so flexible spine and positioning his mouth right above his ear. Steve watches him whisper into his ear--his pink lips curling over the hushed syllables in the heat of chaotic, loud battle--and shivers.

Goosebumps come to attention all across Steve's body.

Shit.

He's unreal.

He's so gorgeous and so good and so charming.

At whatever he tells him, the baddie nods stiffly, all the color drained from his face, and Bucky retracts his knife unhurriedly, perfectly moving according to his own schedule, and confidently sheathes the blade it once more. Then, neatly, he unclenches his thighs from around his throat and slithers off his shoulders. It's almost a dance--totally smooth, well-rehearsed choreography.

He defies gravity.

As soon as Bucky is far enough from him, peeled away, the underling scurries off like a frightened rat, stumbling as he sprints off. Bucky watches him go with an unhinged, almost-pitying smile, an expression just for himself, as if to say, that's right, you better run. Tell the others, too. You fuck with me and it's over. Don't bother coming back.

Steve whimpers.

Realistically, it--Bucky devastatingly executing one of Black Widow's signature flipping, twisting moves as if it's his own and something developed specifically for him, an over 200 lbs man of pure muscle and metal--all happens in the span of seconds. Or, maybe it happens faster. It may not even be a single second. But for Steve, it plays in slow motion; it lasts ages in his mind.

Still, really, just it's one instant, and then his brain chemistry has been fully altered. Immediately. His wires have been crossed over and shorted out. Sparks fly. And his reboot back to being a functioning fucking human comes in the form of a punch to the face.

Fuck.

Steve groans through the pain of a fist colliding with his face, wincing, and opening and shutting his jaw to have it crack back into place. He's gonna fucking feel that later. But, for now, he has to ignore the heavy, aching throb of his cock, the pain in his jaw, and get back to fighting.

Later, he tells himself.

Later, that'll be his treat for getting through this shit day. He can kneel and beg, forgetting himself as a drooling, heaving, out-of-breath, hot faced mess at Bucky's feet, fumbling over words as he incomprehensibly pleads to have his shapely thighs wrapped tight around his head, his neck, his waist even, anything. Just hold him there until he fucking dies a happy death between those legs.

Heaven.

[gaylordscooter]

You're at the Party

“so you brought mass murderers to my place without warning me beforehand?” Cross said.

“Haha, nice.”

“don't humor them, chara.”

Blue wrung his hands together, opening his mouth to explain only for Ink to cut in.

“Listen, these guys aren't gonna cause any trouble. Besides, I thought this was a place where people could start over.” Ink crossed his arms.

“Two of them killed everyone in their universe? Hm, a Sans killing a bunch of people…Where have I heard that before?” XChara nudged Cross’s arm.

“you know that isn’t the problem here.”

Everyone gave Cross a look as if he was the one that was being unreasonable here.

Cross sighed, “fine, they can stay. but they need to pass a test first.”

Blue narrowed his eyes skeptically. “What kind of test?”

“well, i guess it's more of a favor.”

“Is this what I think it is? You're not sending them there.”

Cross waved away his concern. “it’ll be fine,” he insisted.

“What are we talking about?” Ink questioned.

Blue leaned close to Ink. “He’s totally planning to use them to retrieve his friend.”

“Oh! Hah. Ahahahahaha!” Ink giggled like he told him a joke. His eyelights reflected his amusement as he stared at Cross. “So we’re at this part now, huh?”

Cross looked confused while Blue huffed at his words and XChara looked bored.

Ink clapped his hands together. “Well then~! Have fun with that~!” he said cheerfully.

“I'm sure those tildes have no malice behind it,” Blue deadpanned.

“Oh, when have my tildes ever held malice~?”

Blue opted for putting his hands on his waist rather than gracing that with a reply.

“Anyway, I gotta bounce! I’ll see y’all later. Don't have too much fun without me~!” He painted a hole in the ground and hopped into it while waving goodbye.

“Eugh, he's like a kid that just learned about emoticons,” XChara said.

“you can't even see the tildes,” Cross pointed out.

XChara rolled their eyes. “I don't have to. I can hear it in his voice.”

“Never mind that. Cross, you can't send them there! I’ve already been making a careful plan. To just toss it out the window and replace it with an improvised one isn't a good idea!”

He rolled his eyelights and crossed his arms. “It doesn't need to work, anyway. I don't expect it to.”

Blue’s sockets widened as he gasped. “So you're just,” he gestured wildly, “sending them off to their deaths? Where's your compassion?”

“Where was their compassion when they hurt all those monsters?”

Blue narrowed his eye sockets. “Where's your compassion?” he repeated in a duller tone.

“Don't you have a Mettaton to serve? This isn't your business.” he snapped back.

Blue threw his hands up, “Wow! Sheesh. Fine. Go have fun torturing the prisoners of war.” He stormed off with a frown.

XChara and Cross watched as he walked in a direction that definitely led to nowhere rather than towards the town.

“He has a point,” XChara stated.

“Awful navigation skills is what he has,” Cross spat. He noticed XChara’s unamused face and did a double take. “Do you actually agree with him?”

“Huh! Do I agree with him that you have no right to judge these morally messed up monsters and that sending them to that freak’s place as punishment is completely hypocritical of you?” They stroked their chin and pretended to think about it hard. “Yes, Mr. ‘the reason why our world has become a hotspot for people who messed up like you!’”

“You don't care about them at all. You're just saying that to spite me.”

“I am, thanks for noticing,” they deadpanned.

Cross brought a hand to his face and sighed.

Killer awoke. He wasn't refreshed in the slightest and he nearly panicked over waking up in unfamiliar surroundings if it wasn't for Dust smacking him on the head.

No wait, he was called Dusk now. He even came up with that name for him.

Sheesh, the sudden change is gonna be hard to get used to.

Right. New chapter of his life. Again. Again again, actually.

Ironically, he was starting to get sick of new experiences.

This wasn't a bad change, really. In fact, it was a clear upgrade. Well, that's what he thought back when Nightmare first found him too, so.

He was waiting for the catch. He was ready this time.

There was a knock on the door.

Both of them had the knee-jerk reaction of summoning a blaster angled at the door but then the rational part of their minds took over and they scrambled out of bed to hold their blasters' mouths shut.

“good morning to you guys too,” said the voice behind the door.

They managed to desummon their blasters once they recognized that it was, in fact, Horror that knocked.

There was unmistakable joy on Killer’s face. He didn't say it, but he was convinced Horror was going to avoid them since they got settled in.

He skipped over to the door like a gleeful idiot and opened the door.

Killer was surprised by his getup. It was the first time he's seen him in different clothing. If it wasn't for the red eye in his socket he wouldn't have recognized him.

The first thing he noticed was the cap he was wearing. It was a generic white cap that covered the hole in his head. Other than that, his outfit was the same as any other normal Sans, sans the signature hoodie. He also looked a lot less tired.

“‘sup, h—sans. ‘sup sans,” Killer said, barely catching himself. He couldn't help but still refer to him as “Horror” in his mind, since from the day they met that's what he called him and known him as. But those names were nothing but brands that Nightmare put on him and Dusk. They weren't names that they chose for themselves.

“hey,” he replied with a small wave, mostly aimed at Dusk to acknowledge his presence even though he hadn't approached the door yet. “so…” he trailed off, unsure.

So.

They were in unfamiliar territory now. After a whole year of living with Nightmare, they formed somewhat of a schedule. A loose one, but a schedule nonetheless—mainly built off of the way Nightmare acted. 

With that thrown out the window, every step they took was unfamiliar. Potentially dangerous. Ironic, considering they were in a safer area now. At least they assumed so.

They hoped so.

They would normally eat breakfast at this time, probably. They weren't ever exactly sure what time it was, but that's how it's been their whole life. It felt like it was around that time, at least.

“my bro said there's a bakery here.” Another pause. Okay, he didn't have to make this that awkward. “you two wanna scope the place out with me?”

Killer’s smile perked up at the edges. “hate to say it, that sounded like you just asked us out on a date.”

“‘k, forget i asked.” He made the move to shut the door.

“nah, i’m joking! we’ll go—” he whipped his head to Dusk for verification, who gave him a thumbs up. “—yeah, let's go.”

So they got out of the hotel room. The lobby had a few people, unlike last time.

None of the three really acknowledged anyone there and no one acknowledged them, until some Monster Kid said a mere hello that made them all awkwardly respond; either with a curt head nod, wave, or quiet “hi” back.

Boy, they weren't ready to be perceived by anyone else. How the hell were they going to handle entering a cafe, let alone going outside? Well, Sans managed, so.

Sans was probably the most stable of the three, let's be real. He was the only one who had contact with other people before Nightmare came to them. When it comes to interaction, Killer and Dusk have done nothing but literally talk to themselves for who knows how long.

The second Sans started to open the door, Killer protested, “actually. could you just grab me something instead? i’ll stay in the room.” When he turned to retreat, Dusk grabbed him by the arm.

Dusk gave him a look that spelled “really, coward?”

“i don't think i’m ready, okay? sue me,” he said. He could already feel eyes on him. The stares gnawed away at his bones, trying to eat him alive. 

They knew what he wanted to do.

Dusk sighed, letting go of his arm. “we can't go,” he signed to Sans.

“right…” he sounded disappointed—no that was pity in his voice. He probably didn’t even expect the two to agree in the first place. “anything specific you want?”

“nothin’ with chocolate.”

Dusk shook his head.

“gotcha. i’ll be back in a bit,” he said.

Dusk and Killer watched as he sauntered off to be a normal monster that was a part of society. Then they walked at a breakneck pace back to their room.

Once they were back in the safety of their private room, they collapsed on their beds.

Killer, face buried against his pillow, groaned in frustration. “i hate this. we're safe now and i can't even go outside. do you feel it too, dusk? that tug on your soul?”

He might kill someone if he went outside. It was highly likely.

Of course it wouldn't be that easy to return to a normal life—of course his high LOVE would haunt him. He was too tired yesterday to be bothered by it, but now, any other monster he saw that wasn't Dusk or Sans had his soul screaming for more exp.

“i’m trying to ignore it,” Dusk mumbled.

He laughed. That's not going to work. That is not going to work and they both know it. 

That’s.

That's not going to work.

“it was—it was better when we were stuck with Nightmare. we wouldn't be able to—”

“It wasn’t better,” Dusk interrupted.

“—we’re going to kill someone. we're going to kill someone and it's going to snowball and it'll—hah—it'll be like a snowball of dust!”

He was choking now, on the rotten determination coming out of his skull.

“killer.”

That's what he was, wasn't he? A killer.

“killer!”

That's all he was.

“Killer.”

Oh, someone was holding him by the shoulders. Wow, everything was blurry and stained black. No, that was just the liquid in his sockets. He tilted his head down, letting it flow out until he could see better.

Oh, it was Dusk. Right.

He shuddered out a breath. He realized all his senses had turned off for the past few seconds. When the hell did he get on the floor?

His eyelights finally focused enough to stare back at Dusk. He didn't like the worried look he had on his face. He cleared his throat, trying to play it off, but all that did was make him hack out more rotten determination.

“well…” the sentence died on his teeth the second he started. “i want to go back to sleep,” he settled on saying.

Dusk brought him into a stilted not-quite-a-hug, where he brought him closer and draped his skull over his shoulder.

They just. Stayed there. For a bit.

“another episode…i’m starting a daily streak, really.” Any humor he thought that statement would have was completely absent. God, how fucking pathetic was he? Surely Dusk was struggling with his LOVE just as much as he was but he didn’t fuss about it. He shouldn’t need Dusk’s comfort and Dusk shouldn’t need to comfort him. He was so selfish. So needy.

Killer willed himself to move away from Dusk to lay back down on his bed.

The room was quiet until someone knocked on the door again.

Dusk opted to answer the door since Killer wasn't budging.

Fortunately it was Sans who was at the door but unfortunately, he wasn't alone. Behind him was another skeleton he hadn't seen before.

He wore monochromatic clothing and there were large x’s on his sleeves and boots. He looked a lot younger than all of them. He must've been in his 20’s. His eyelights were a lot bigger than the average sans, with a slitted pupil reminiscent of a cat’s.

Despite the youthful look, one glance was enough to tell Dusk that he had a lot of LOVE too. It wasn’t nearly as much as he or Killer had, but it was more than the amount Sans had.

Dusk glared at the stranger as if he personally wronged him.

Sans didn’t look too happy either with the death grip he had on the bag containing their breakfast.

“hey,” Sans said. He walked in as if everything was fine and normal.

The stranger also tried walking in as if everything was fine and normal.

A wall of bones rose in front of him to block his path.

Killer sat up on the bed, “nope. not dealing with unwelcome company now, thank you.”

The stranger cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “well, i’m actually the organizer of this place. the name’s cross. i’m sure ink told you three about me.”

“i’ve never heard of you in my life,” Killer said.

It was painfully clear that Cross was already annoyed by Killer, despite his attempts to keep his face neutral. “i’ll just get to the point—”

“he’s gonna test us. if we pass, we can stay. if we don’t, we’re getting kicked out,” Sans said. He opened the bag of food and grabbed a pastry for himself before handing it over to Dusk.

Dusk hesitated as he grabbed the bag. He quickly grabbed the first pastry he laid his hand on and turned to Killer.

“we’re getting kicked out?” Killer repeated.

“only if you don’t pass the test,” Cross emphasized.

Killer stood up as the wall of bones went away. He shambled over to him with a misleadingly calm expression. He leaned close to Cross’s head, keeping his hands by his sides. “what’s the test?”

Cross stood his ground, keeping his eyes locked on Killer as if he would attack him if he merely glanced away. “a rescue mission,” he answered with a steady voice despite the tension.

“the blue guy said you weren’t going to torture us,” Killer spat.

“it’s not torture. i have a plan. it should be simple,” Cross insisted.

He narrowed his eye sockets. “so why are you using us as fodder?”

“it’s a test.”

Sans snagged the bag from Dusk and shoved it over to Killer. “no point in complainin’, just roll with it.”

Killer pushed the bag aside. “why are you being so compliant? he’s going to send us to our deaths!”

“because we don’t have a choice,” he sighed. “besides, we’ve gone through hell and back, what’s one more trial?”

Killer caved in and grabbed the bag to fish out a pastry for himself. He took a hefty bite from it specifically to talk with his mouth full, “you gonna leave us alone after we complete this ‘rescue mission’?”

“yeah, just this one thing and you’ll all prove that i can trust you to stay here.”

Killer winced at the word “trust”. He quickly scarfed the rest of the pastry down. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really blame Cross for putting them through a trial considering that they’re all murderers. Well, he didn’t think Sans should be judged to the same extent as them. He needed to kill all those humans in order to survive.

“why does sans need to go too? his friends and family have already been staying here,” he asked.

Cross looked surprised by his question. Fucker probably didn’t expect him to be considerate. “the plan’s easier with three people, and all three of you worked with nightmare.”

“worked!?” Killer shoved the bag towards Sans and grabbed Cross by his shirt. “we didn’t work with that bastard. he KIDNAPPED us! if you think for one second that we associated with him? oh you got it entirely wrong, asshole! do you think we had fun being his fucking toys?” he snapped.

“killer, let go of him,” Sans said.

“y’know what? fine. i’ll do your stupid test. nothing you put me through will be worse than what he did to us,” he snarled before pushing him away.

Cross fixed the wrinkles Killer made on his clothes. His nonchalant behavior pissed Killer off even more.

He was lucky he actually listened to Sans.

“sorry, i wasn’t aware of that,” he said quietly.

Killer calmed down only slightly at the apology. He crossed his arms and scoffed, “you better be.”

Cross waited for them to finish eating breakfast before he went over the plan.

As he talked more, the three were even less psyched about doing this.

They were going to disguise themselves and then enter the place through a portal made by Ink. The first part of the plan was finding the right monster. Cross handed them an image for reference. They collectively sighed when they saw it was yet another Sans. If he wasn't wearing the same outfit it would be hard to find him, that's not to mention that Cross said the place they were infiltrating was a packed warehouse.

The second part of the plan was actually leaving the place. Which was supposedly the easier part of the plan because Ink will arrive and make another portal once they find the monster.

All in all, this just sounded like some dumb hidden object game rather than a rescue mission.

Ink arrived at the room shortly after Cross finished explaining. He came in holding a pile of clothes, their disguises.

Said clothes were all campy and flashy.

“in what world,” Sans held up a sequin jacket that had colors that could blind hawks, “are these disguises?”

“Well you're going to a party! A rave, specifically,” Ink explained.

Killer snatched a red leather jacket and bell bottom jeans from the pile. “all of these shirts suck, i’m gonna change.” He went over to the bathroom with the articles in hand.

“Oh yeah!” Ink snapped his hand. He reached into the pockets of his pants and took out three pairs of sunglasses, each were different shapes. “Almost forgot the most important part.”

“glasses,” Sans remarked.

Dusk and Sans exchanged glances with each other.

“it's really bright there,” Cross explained.

“in a warehouse?”

“trust me, the strobe lights could probably blind you otherwise.”

Sans narrowed his sockets.

Killer finished changing and waltzed out of the bathroom, flaunting his gaudy outfit.

“no shirt?” Sans remarked.

“i said they all suck.”

“surely you could just wear the shirt you already had on.”

“actually,” Cross butted in, “after you three get back we’re burning those clothes immediately. so probably don't wear anything that's actually yours.”

“and why are you doing that?”

“Cooties,” Ink deadpanned.

Cross frowned at him.

“Anyways, take a pair. Whatever you do, do not take them off.” Ink held out the shades with a wink.

Killer opted for the triangular ones while Dusk grabbed the rectangular ones and Sans got the circular ones.

Then Dusk and Sans grabbed whatever clothing, tossing any attempts to make a cohesive outfit out the window, and took turns changing in the bathroom.

Finally, Cross looked over the three, determining if their disguises were good to go. Dusk and Sans’s fits were horrible. That neon fluffy bucket hat that Sans wore was definitely not comfortable. At least Killer had a cohesive outfit.

He spent a second longer looking at Killer's sunglasses. He leaned close to Ink. “it doesn't cover his sockets fully,” he whispered.

“It’ll be fiiine,” Ink assured. He clasped his hands together. “Okay! You're all ready to go. Don't forget, you're looking for Epic, the most notable feature is the scar on his eye socket. Keep your distance from other partygoers and do not take off those shades.” His scarf swept at the floor underneath the three, creating holes that lead to their destination.

The three could barely see Ink waving goodbye as they fell.

The landing wasn't bad, all of them landed on their feet just fine, but the change in atmosphere gave them whiplash. While it was dark as night, strobe lights flashed and lit up the place erratically.

Oh god the music.

Eurodance from the 90’s was blasting with bass heavy enough to shake the building.

Oh god, the amount of monsters.

They were also dressed in gaudy outfits, which explained why their disguises were like that.

“cool. all we need to do is find whoever the hell ‘epic’ is. should we split?” Killer asked.

“oh god no,” Sans said.

Dusk grabbed them by their shoulders to drag them around and start their search.

“they're all wearing glasses too, didn't they say a scar on the socket is how we can differentiate him?” Sans said.

Killer groaned, “this is gonna take forever! we should just ask around or something.”

“you suddenly in the mood for social interaction?”

“this sensory nightmare’s making me feel like i’m floating out of my body, i just want to get this over with.” Killer approached one of the partygoers. “hey, y’know where a skeleton called epic is?”

He was completely ignored.

“cool. awesome. if we don't split up this’ll literally take forever, peace.” Killer walked off without waiting for the other two’s input.

Dusk and Sans watched as he got lost in the crowd in a whopping five seconds.

Dusk face palmed.

“maybe…maybe we can ask the dj? then they'll put out an announcement, or something,” Sans said.

“not that simple,” Dusk signed. He spelled out “fishy”.

“would it hurt to try?”

Dusk frantically shook his fist in a “yes.”

“eh, don't be a downer. where is the dj, anyway?” He looked around, fortunately most of the monsters here were around the same height as him so his view wasn't too obstructed. “yeesh, this place is big.”

The strobe lights flickered more as they all started moving to one point. The lights shone on the DJ station, the DJ themself was still shrouded in darkness. The sound of scratching discs filled the building as the music quieted down. “HOW WE FEELIN’ BROSEPHS ‘N JOESEPHS!?”

A mechanical roar of cheers rang out among the crowd.

They recognized that voice. They most definitely recognized that voice.

Dusk grabbed Sans by the arm.

“okay,” Sans breathed, “that's fine. maybe, no one knows his deal. we can just. leave the building.”

Dusk tugged at Sans, pointing furiously at the ground.

It was hard to notice due to how dark and packed it is, but on the ground were several piles of dust.

“hm. nice knowing ya.”

“You party animals havin’ fun?! I know I am, yo!” The unmistakable sound of Fresh’s voice boomed throughout the warehouse. The lights finally shone on him. He looked exactly the same as the first time they saw him. He was spinning. a disc on his finger. “I just gots some totes rad news before we continue on with gettin’ jiggy.”

The colored lights moved over to his side, revealing a stage that was hidden in the darkness, and on the stage was Killer. He looked confused, as if he didn't even know how he got up there.

Sans nearly swore but Dusk slapped a hand over his mouth.

When he caught sight of Fresh he stood frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Any bros know this fool?” Fresh asked. He put the disk back on the turntable and scratched his chin. “I don't. Did we invite him?” His bemusement barely masked his elation at having prey he didn't have to catch.

Killer didn't know what to do. He looked down at the crowd. The sunglasses they wore were originally all blank but the familiar “YOLO” text was on them now.

Running definitely wasn't going to help.

“Eh no biggie. I’ll give him a proper introduction to this rad party.” Fresh turned the music back on.

Killer internally swore at Cross, cursing his entire life. He was going to die and it was going to be to the fucking tune of a stupid 90’s song about sex. Well he wasn't going down without a fight.

He summoned a blaster aimed at Fresh and fired.

Only for one of the partygoers to leap into the blast to block it.

Killer watched in horror as he dusted that monster. The familiar rush of exp hit him like a truck, he couldn't help but fall to his knees.

“oh god,” Sans muttered from the crowd.

The three were completely powerless in this situation. This wasn't a fucking test. They were sent to their deaths.

What a sick joke.

“Oh snap! Well, you're just gonna hafta replace that now, aren't ya?” Fresh disappeared with a poof, promptly reappearing behind Killer.

Killer quickly pushed himself up and backed away from him.

Fresh didn't even follow him, the stage wasn't that big anyway.

He reached the edge of the stage, back to the crowd. Only Fresh could see the fear on his face.

Some of the crowd climbed on stage to grab his ankles, anchoring him down.

 He was hyperventilating, he was overwhelmed, he felt nothing at all.

He felt nothing at all.

Dusk and Sans went as far as they could away from the stage. They eventually reached a wall. Sans leaned against it in defeat while Dusk banged his skull against it.

Sans winced at the loud thud.

They could vaguely see the stage from here. Killer was gone and Fresh returned to his station.

The party continued on like nothing happened.

“so. do you think you’ll end up back in your universe after, or.”

Dusk huffed.

“right.” Dumb question.

They just stood there against the wall watching the neverending party. They questioned if this was hell or purgatory. No, this was definitely hell.

“ey, i finally found you guys.” It was Killer.

Dusk and Sans tensed.

His soul was a shape they’ve never seen it be before. It was in the shape of a flower.

“chillax, i’m not gonna do anything,” he said. His cadence was off. “you two have just been standing there all gloomy…” He put a hand on the wall just above Dusk’s shoulder. “why don’t you come join the fun?”

With how close he was, Dusk was able to see the parasitic flower in the small sliver of his sockets that wasn't covered by the triangular shades.

Killer leaned closer to his face. “c’mon, i’m getting lonely.”

Sans socked him in the face.

Dusk flinched back in surprise as Killer fell to the ground from the impact.

Sans shook the pain off his hand. “i think we're good.”

Dusk knelt down by Killer. He took his shades off and immediately plunged his hand into the socket containing the flower.

“uh—” Sans reached a hand out but was interrupted by Killer’s lucid screaming.

The nearby skeletons slowed their dancing, turning over to the interruption.

With one last quick yank, the flower snapped off. Dusk dropped it and stamped his foot on it repeatedly.

Killer gasped for air and keened in pain. Then he passed out.

Dusk blinked in shock.

Sans cringed, “think you went a bit overboard.”

“you were the one who punched him!” Dusk blurted stupidly.

“yup, and you committed malpractice.”

The music came to a halt with a dramatic record scratch.

The lights landed on the three.

“Yo, dudes. Quit harshin’ the vibe,” Fresh scoffed into the mic.

Dusk rolled his eyelights and picked Killer up, draping him over his shoulder.

They were surrounded now, by the skeletons under his control.

Dusk summoned multiple blasters overhead, ready to fire if any of them stepped closer.

“Yeesh! You three weren't even invited! What's the dealio? That scummy octo brought you here to rustle my jimmies or something?”

That. Wasn't even 90’s lingo.

There was some feedback coming from the mic. “That thing’s not comin’ here for real, actually, right?” For once he sounded unsure.

Was he actually threatened by Nightmare?

They had to roll with the lie. They could survive this. They just had to convince him he was coming.

Sans put a hand on Dusk’s shoulder. “nah yeah, he won't have to intervene as long as we get what he needs.”

“Bogus! Whaddaheck would that dillweed need?”

Sans pulled out the image of Epic from his pocket and showed it to the nearest partygoer. “we just need this guy, and we'll be outta your hair.”

“Oooh, yeah, I get what you're layin’ down.”

Said nearest partygoer grabbed Sans’s wrist.

“You're fibbin’.”

Welp.

Dusk was just about to fire the blasters on standby, only for a cluster of bones to sprout from the ceiling and stab through the giant skulls.

Dusk grumbled. He adjusted his grip on Killer so that he didn't drop him.

“you're kinda grabbing his butt,” Sans pointed out.

“we’ve done worse.”

“go back to not talking.”

“Aight. So y’all come on in uninvited and interrupt my bodacious party? S’all good. I’ll let you dudes bounce…not!” Fresh yelled into the mic. “I’m gonna enjoy taking y’all over. You're not worming your way out this time.”

Right as his sentence ended, it was disproved. A portal opened. It was like the light at the end of the tunnel.

That portal looked similar to the ones Nightmare made, actually.

“Ah, nah, what’s the dealio?”

But instead of the guardian of negativity arriving, a huge wave of tiny not-quite-skeletons poured in like a flood.

“what,” Dusk and Sans said in unison as absolute chaos unfolded in the warehouse.

These “not-quite-skeletons” acted more like hyperactive temmies. Their giant skulls were bigger than the rest of their body making them look more like aliens than anything. They all wore bandanas that matched the color of their huge star eyelights. They bounded around the place causing total anarchy.

Fresh among others were trampled by these small menaces. Some were simply dancing to the music while others were actively jumping some of the partygoers. They swore they even saw one playing with a pile of dust.

And all of this was happening while “We Like to Party!” by the Vengaboys was playing.

A second portal opened up behind them. They didn't even get to process this before someone yanked them through.

They both landed on their backs. Killer peacefully laid atop Dusk, still managing to sleep through that all. Hopefully he wasn't in a coma.

Dusk and Sans looked at each other, unsure if they were both already dead or if what they saw was all real.

Certainly one hell of a deus ex machina, but with all the shit they’ve gone through they might as well accept it with open arms.

It was Blue that stood over them, looking utterly concerned. “oh my GOD, you three almost died! well, you would’ve been under fresh’s control for whoever knows how long and then you would collapse from exhaustion and then die, but still,” he rambled. He put a hand on his face. “If my plan didn't work…well! Glad it did! Even if it wasn't the one I initially had,” he sighed in relief. “I’m SO sorry you guys went through that! I told Cross not to do it but, ARGH, no one listens to me!” He stomped his foot, it reminded them of Papyrus.

Another portal appeared next to him and two skeletons walked out. One was dressed like they just walked out of an anime convention and the other was clearly a skeleton from Fresh’s party.

“Thank you so much Dream,” Blue said.

Dream?

The two looked closely at him. There was a star made out of magic floating by his forehead. It reminded them of the crescent moon that rested near Nightmare's forehead. He was the one that created the portals similar to him too.

“you're his brother,” Sans said.

“Hm? Brother? I don’t…”

“They already know he's your brother, Dream,” Blue interrupted.

Dream darted his eyelights away guiltily. “I promise you, I’m not like him at all. I’m so sorry he held you all captive for a year! It must've been horrible.”

Dusk and Sans didn't really care about the needless pity. Both of them had one thing on their mind and it was punching the living daylights out of Cross.

“Right…” Blue said awkwardly. “Anyway, Dream, please tend to Epic, I’ll take these guys from here.”

Dream nodded and teleported himself and the other skeleton, who was apparently Epic, off to someplace else.

Blue stared down at the three who hadn't budged at all. “So, do you guys need help getting up, or.”

“i’m staying down here, thanks,” Sans said.

“Is Killer knocked out, or sleeping?”

“he's been out cold ever since Dusk ripped off the flower in his socket.”

Blue smacked the side of his skull, looking distraught. He looked around the place—they just realized they were in someone's living room—and told them to stay there before bolting off to another room.

Sans turned his attention to Killer and Dusk. “are you just gonna have him lay on top of you the whole time?”

Dusk shrugged. Honestly he was kind of comfortable like this. Killer was like a weighted blanket.

Sans finally got up from the floor, stretching his back with a groan. He stumbled over to the couch nearby and flopped onto it. He massaged his face. “god, i don't want to do anything ever again.”

Dusk hummed in agreement.

Blue came back shortly after with a stash of snacks. He dumped them onto the coffee table in front of the couch. “I got some snacks so you guys can replenish your energy. Do any of you know healing magic?”

Dusk nodded.

Blue walked over to him, leaning down to pick up Killer off of him only for Dusk to slap his hand away. “Oh! Sorry, I thought you were stuck,” he said, embarrassed.

Dusk sat up, holding Killer in his arms. He carefully put his hand over his soul and started healing it.

“you're not even going to eat first—Okay, that's fine.” Blue looked away from the poor medical practice. He waited a moment. “Okay, you're not supposed to keep going until he wakes up, you're gonna overload his soul with magic.”

Dusk rolled his eyelights and drew his hand away.

“He should wake up in a few minutes. In the meantime,” he grabbed something off the table and threw it at him, “eat something!”

The packaged snack bumped his head and fell to the floor sadly.

Dusk laid Killer down, having his head rest on his legs so that he could pick up the snack and eat it.

Blue turned to Sans. “You should eat something too.”

Sans glanced at the food on the table, then back at Blue. “why are you helping us?” he asked.

Blue looked disheartened by his suspicion. He fidgeted with his hands. “because i want to. And why wouldn't I? Everyone deserves help!”

“real naive of you to say.”

Blue’s expression hardened. “Fine, maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I want to feel like I’m worth something by helping people out. Maybe I’m sick of people dying when I could’ve done something. Maybe I’m guilty, so I help assholes like you in order to cope! Is that a selfish enough answer for you?”

Sans grabbed something off the table to eat. “sure.”

Blue sighed, crossing his arms. “good.”

They sat in silence as the two ate a bit. After a few uncomfortable minutes, Killer finally woke up.

He rolled off of Dusk. He immediately fired a round of questions, “everything hurts. why’s it so dark. where am i?”

“The lights are on?” Blue said.

“who the hell are you?”

“i think you blinded him, dude,” Sans said.

“what?!” Killer shouted.

“He shouldn’t be permanently blinded, he just needs to eat!” Blue assured. “Carelessly yanking out Fresh’s flower temporarily blinds the victim because it injures the orbit, and any injury to that area causes temporary blindness as our magic prioritizes healing it over being able to see.”

“oh, you’re the nerd that gave us food yesterday.”

“i’m the huh?” Blue mumbled. He shook off the insult and grabbed some packaged crackers off the table to give to Killer. “Anyway, we’re not at the hub right now. You guys are gonna crash at my place, which is here, until I give Cross a talk.”

Killer gnawed on the crackers without removing the wrapper, until Dusk snatched it from him to properly open it and hand it back to him. 

Killer poured the crumbs into his mouth, a good amount of it missed and landed on the floor which Blue decided to ignore.

After blinking a few times, Killer was able to see again. “where is ‘here’?”

“I don’t really have time to explain what this place is but uh, I suggest not going outside because you might end up in a different universe,” Blue said casually. “I shouldn’t be gone for too long, but in case I am, you guys are free to raid the kitchen, watch some tv, etc—Oh yeah! I also have a book containing all my notes on the multiverse if you wanna read it. Since you three are outcodes now it’ll be useful to know about some of the threats and important areas in the multiverse.”

The three of them looked at him like he was speaking a different language.

He coughed into his hand and pulled the book out from his inventory to set it on the coffee table. He awkwardly waved goodbye which got no responses and left the house.

“that guy’s too nice,” Killer remarked. “how hasn’t he died?”

“my guess is dumb luck or he’s hiding something.” Sans sat up on the couch, looking curiously at the book, which was actually just some spiral bound notebook. He picked it up, might as well read it to pass the time.

Killer stood up, stumbling a bit as he waited for the vertigo to pass. “i’m gonna snoop around,” he announced.

“have fun with that.”

While Killer wandered off and Sans read, Dusk went over to the fridge.

Sans flipped through the pages of the notebook, skimming over the titles of various names of people and places. He paused when he saw Nightmare’s name.

“dusk, get over here!”

Dusk walked over with no haste at all. He was holding two glasses, and was currently drinking out of one. He held out the other to Sans.

Sans looked up from the book to see the concoction he was giving him. It was nearly the same as all the past times Dusk made the mistake of playing bartender. Except this time…”did you add crushed chips? that thing has at least four different textures in it now.”

Dusk shrugged.

Killer walked back in the room, looking very dissatisfied. He wasn’t able to find anything interesting or any skeletons in the closet. His sights immediately landed on the drinks. “what the fuck is that?” he chuckled.

“nah, killer this ain’t for you.” Sans took the second drink from Dusk’s hand.

“aw, what?”

“anyway,” he took a sip, “this guy has notes about nightmare.”

Killer walked around the table and sat next to Sans. “woah, that's crazy.” He leaned closer at the book, but quickly switched his target to the drink.

Unfortunately, Sans was quick enough to move the drink away before he could take a sip.

Killer grumbled disappointedly and looked back at the book, actually reading the page this time. “i mean, we already know all of this, i don't see how this is…” he trailed off as he got halfway through the page. “huh. he’s had quite the history.”

“whaddya think being ‘the guardian of negativity’ means?”

“does it matter? we hate him. end of story.”

Sans eyed the line that said Nightmare couldn't feel positive emotions. If that was true, that explained a lot of things, but did that change anything? Not really. “yeah, i guess it doesn't.”

Once he was back at the hub, Blue hunted down Cross. His angry speech died on his metaphorical tongue the second he saw him and Epic having a reunion. He stopped in his tracks and watched them from a distance.

Ink appeared by his side, also watching the two. “Ah, a happy ending.” “It was completely unnecessary for any of this to happen and you know it,” Blue said sternly.

Ink pouted. “Aw, are you mad at me? It wasn’t my idea to send those three to their deaths.”

Blue scowled at him. “But it’s your fault Fresh kidnapped Epic in the first place.” Ink looked dumbfounded and then guilty, like a dog that was caught doing something it shouldn’t. “You’re getting too good at reading me…” he sighed. “How long did you know?”

“The second we found out it was Fresh that took Epic I immediately knew it was you,” Blue deadpanned. There were only a few people who could’ve let Fresh into the place, and only one person who would’ve. Besides, ever since Cross rescued Epic from his scripted death, Ink would glare at him like he personally wronged him.

“Aw,” Ink gave him a hug, “and you didn’t tell anyone?” He didn’t just not tell anyone he also covered for him. There was a reason Cross didn’t know he did it. “There wasn’t any point to.” “And you wouldn’t rat out your best friend!”

Blue flicked his cheek bone. “Sure,” he said sarcastically. He ended the hug with Ink with a gentle shove. “Those three are probably gonna try to kill Cross though. I’m making that your responsibility.”

Ink giggled at the idea of the three hunting down Cross. “Eh, he can handle that on his own.”

[testedcatdraws]

Thoughts on Danganronpa Despair Time Chapter 2 Episode 14 (spoilers, obviously)

Alright, we have narrowed it down to two suspects, Eden and Ace!

Now, with other stuff that went on, we learned how Nico tried to kill Ace and that they regretted it. Plus they tried to frame Hu.

Another thing is that Rose's memory seems more like a disability, which makes since. It obviously had some uses, like last trial, but overall it seems to make Rose's life harder that kinda negates the uses it would have. I don't know if any real life disabilities are like Rose's or of DRDTdev just made this up, but either way this just sounds like a disability fictional or not. If it's not made up, then I guess I have nothing to say due to my lack of knowledge on it. If it's made up it does make since, humans might not be made to handle that much memory.

Now, who do I think is the killer? I think it's Ace, with the info we have of Eden so fare it's safe to assume she's at least somewhat good, though I think she's the traitor (her being the traitor is mostly a guess from her possibly clawing at Xander's eye due to the fork scene, other then that I have no real evidence so I'll just say it's a educated guess.) She also had a connection with Arei which would make them friends, and I see no evidence that Eden would fake it. Unless someone shows me evidence that Eden's secretly bad, or hates Arei in anyway, I think it's safer to assume she's innocent. With Ace he has no connections with Arei, which means he might feel less bad killing her. Arei's rather rude too so I doubt they had a good relationship, even if they barely had one. This means it's probably the suspect that Ace would feel less bad about killing. Plus since Arei had little to no connections with him people wouldn't suspect him. The reason he didn't kill Nico was to frame him, also probably because it'll be rather obviously revenge. Now, I could be wrong and Eden could be the killer, I do know that.

Alright, now lets play devil's advocate and see why Eden might be the killer! Eden might not be that good, it's rather evident that most people in the killing game aren't some UwU sweet cinnamon roll who do no wrong, besides Eden and Whit (Ok, that cinnamon roll is suppose to be overexaggerating but I'm sure you get what I mean), which makes them both suspicious. Whit's probably going to be the mastermind in my opinion, and Eden is probably going to be the traitor. This doesn't mean Eden's the devil or evil, as other characters aren't either. Xander tried to kill Teruko, Charles started as a jerk, and I'm sure you could find other stuff. They're heavily flawed, but they aren't evil either. This means Eden might've cared about Arei but since she's the traitor maybe she was threatened to do this in the cause of something more important to her, like a family member or someone else. Though, this is assuming I'm correct about Eden being the traitor.

That's all.

[lokisis]

Alright here's my rambling for @buwheal

Soo for the most part I don't see his dialog as very aggressive. Even when he reprimands you (rightfully so. You did just attempt to kill him) he tells you you should've done all that earlier to get something special instead. Even after attacking him for... seemingly no reason, he gives you advice on how to do a different route of the game.

He doesn't run off laughing like he does in pacifist but that's most likely because. Again. You tried to kill him. Honestly, you'd think with how the fandom interprets him he would've tried to fight with you again haha

He also gives lots of choices and opportunities to just Not do his quest. Like you can choose to not give him the disk

And all he says is that's not cool :bwomp: You can also choose not to go to his shop, not to buy keygen, not to take the disk back to the basement, nor put it in the machine. Hell, he doesn't even get mad if you don't buy from him. (DON’T FORGET TO [Like and Subscribe] FOR MORE [Hyperlink Blocked]! (Not to be confused with his in battle version with [like and suscribe])) You can also leave without giving him the disk inside the shop (YOU'RE LEAVING!? WHAT ABOUT MY DISK!?!?) and he won't stop you.

Speaking of. While he does tell you to "buy" keygen, you can actually get it for 0D$. And he definitely sets the price, since none of his other items go that low.

He doesn't get visibly upset besides the time he punches the dumpster. Which, as I said somewhere else, is a surprising show of restraint considering most other monsters fight you on sight no matter what. He only battles Kris to see their soul, and he notices something wrong right away (which is why he starts making deals with you). And he only engages you as neo bc he 1. Got corrupted by the basement shit and 2. Bc he didn't see another way to free both of them.

Plus he genuinely considers Kris a friend. And wants to be. Better. After the pacifist route. (And again with the choices!! He cares a lot about choices!!)

Anyway I don't ever have my thoughts organized enough for stuff like this so I hope this suffices for now. I have more ramblings elsewhere I'm sure. Here's some silly dialog from him I enjoy

Silly man pretending to be mad about something small ^ (considering he still teams up with them afterwards. He doesn't actually care that much, he just like to joke)

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Me again lol

Could you do #19: “did you walk here”

With all Paul, David, Marko, and Dwayne?

Scenario: reader’s parent was short and aggressive with him so he tried to avoid them without leaving the house, only to hear said parent on the phone acting completely different with their sibling, AKA nice/understanding/playful. And it got too much to hear so reader just left the house and walked to the cave. Angst with comfort?

If this is all too specific, i understand! Still love everything you write.

I hope you like this! It's slightly different than your concept, but when I began to write the words, they just kind of started to run with it? Anyways, I hope you like this!

----------------------

Four silhouettes stood on top of the cliff, their faces hidden by the shadows casted by the bright lights of the motorcycles they were sitting on. As I slowly walked closer, my legs were tired from the long walk, I couldn't help but overheard what they were saying.

"I don't know what you're going to do today, but I do know that we need to pick him up," Dwayne said, ignoring the annoyed look David shot him.

"No shit," he glared, "but if you think that's a one man job, you're wrong."

"He knows how to handle his family," Paul shrugged, mentally agreeing with Dwayne that it didn't really matter who picked their boyfriend up, as long as it happened.

"Doesn't mean he should have to," Marko answered, looking at David and then the others. "But if we all go, we might make things worse. We know he isn't ready to cut ties yet, so we shouldn't force him to."

"You ehr - you don't really have to worry about that," I said, my voice more unsteady than I had meant it to be.

"Are you alright?" Paul, who was closest to me, pulled me towards him. I stumbled due to the sudden movement, glad that he caught me before I fell.

"Like now, or before you grabbed me?" I asked teasingly, but it was painfully clear I wasn't quite in a joking mood.

"What happened?" David asked, his voice softer than I had heard before. I sighed as I sat down on Paul's bike, looking at the ground.

"I always knew they had a favourite," I tried to shrug it off, but saying it out loud only made it more real, "I just never thought they'd make it so painfully obvious."

The more I spoke, the angrier I began to feel. The angrier I got, the more tears burnt in my eyes. How could they - my parents, the ones who were supposed to love me no matter what - treat me so differently than my sibling? Why were they so distant towards me, as if I were the dirt under their shoes. What did my sibling do to deserve their love? Was it because they were younger? They needed their help more?

"Another fight, hm?" David lifted my face up with his hand, forcing me to look at him. "Your parents are idiots, I hope you know that."

I gave him a small smile and nodded. "It still hurts."

"No shit," Dwayne chuckled, "but it will lessen over time. Besides, you don't have to deal with them ever again if you don't want to."

"But they're my parents. I live there, I mean, I know I walked off tonight but I can't just leave..."

"And why not?" Marko popped up behind me. "If it's your things you're worried about, we got that covered. If you're scared that you'll see your parents on the boardwalk, we will deal with them. There's no need for you to go back if you don't want to."

"Wait, hold up!" Paul looked at me, worry on his face. "You said walked off. Did you walk here?"

I nodded.

"Fucking hell! Babe, that's an over four hour walk!"

I nodded, smiling sheepishly. "My feet do hurt."

"Marko, get some food. Dwayne, Paul, go and pick up his stuff. You're moving in with us tonight."

"Isn't that a bit fast?" I asked, a slight frown appearing on my forehead.

"I don't know anyone who would walk four hours just to see their boyfriends. Shut up, you live with us now."

I chuckled as he lifted me up, making sure I wouldn't have to walk any further today. "Okay, I guess."

[meownotgood]

aki's just the sweetest whenever he has a crush on you.

he's totally obvious, immediately standing up straight whenever he sees you, finding it hard to meet your eyes and absently fiddling with his thumbs while he talks. he blushes to his ears when you stand a little too close to him. his hands get clammy and sweaty and he'll shove them in his pockets hoping you won't notice.

he compliments you every time you meet, telling you that you look pretty (like always, he means, you always are). he shares his lunch with you when you forget to bring any, he asks if you'd like to come over for dinner (he was supposed to run some errands instead, but if you want to come over, that's more important, and he isn't going to tell you that). he offers to pay for everything when you're around. the tone of his voice gets lighter and he smiles more. maybe someday he'll get the courage to ask you on a proper date.

[yuwuta]

gojo would kill your work husband. but if he were the work husband, that's a different story

REAL!! he’s such a hypocrite because if someone mentioned you had a work husband, his entire world would stop and he wold devise the absolute worst plans to make sure that your co-worker, everyone at your job, and everyone in the next building over knew that he was happily committed to you 

but if he is the work husband, he’s very........ dutiful in his role. there’s a loose office/lawyer au in my head where satoru is your secretary, and for all intents and purposes, your personal assistant, and he’s good at his job, but mostly because he considers his job to be pleasing you. he has coffee for you when you arrive, he moves your schedule around without you asking, he has answers to questions before you can even ask them, he has fresh flowers on your desk weekly, pokes into your meetings to pretend to hand you a file that’s really just maybe a single document in a manilla folder with candy on top of it—he’s made himself your business, your partner; he’s made himself irreplaceable, and he loves to remind everybody of that fact. 

he’s also extremely loyal. sure, he could day a week’s worth of work done in about a day, but that doesn’t mean he’ll just use his talents for anybody. he’s your secretary, so he’s at your beck and call, and everyone knows it. they know he’s the best, but also that he’s off limits—not because you won’t share him, but because satoru won’t let himself be shared. 

he also extends his duties beyond work, of course. when he hands you a print out of your schedule for the day and you’re confused by the three-hour block of time you have in the middle of the day, satoru just helps you shrug your coat of your shoulders and smiles, “that’s for the lunch date you have with me, of course!” hanging up your coat in your closet for you, “i’m paying, see you soon, sweets.” and because you’re great at your job, and satoru helps you be great, nobody really questions when the two of you have time for a 13-course tasting menu at 1pm on a tuesday afternoon. and if they did, all satoru would say that you two had a lovely date 

[box-dwelling]

Sometimes a ship post is just a vent post but hear me out:

Astarion thinking he's being manipulative when he isn't.

Like hes really genuinely upset about something that is of like minor inconvenience to Wyll. Blood drinking is a great example.

He's absolutely starving but he doesn't want to admit it and A) admit weakness or B) risk being viewed as too dangerous to have around because he's hungry. So he's just suffering in silence for a while until some how wyll notices what's up, gets him to admit he's hungry and then immediately offers to let him feed. Just because of basic and kindness it doesn't even have to be at the love stage yet, though this would absolutely probably persist past it.

But in his brain he just can't comprehend someone actually showing him compassion or kindness? Even wyll? So even though he did absolutely nothing manipulative just admitted to his needs he convinces himself that he is just such a master of manipulation he doesn't even have to try.

[longagoitwastuesday]

Kusakabe, dear, you're too beautiful to be saying that kind of stuff

[a-lonely-dunedain]

So! this is Gwen, she's one of Lhan Tarren's three resident healers. She speaks in a hushed whisper, is easily spooked, and has a generally unnerving aura about her.

She wasn't always that way though, once she was a bright-eyed healer apprenticed to Cianán (Lhan Tarren's older healer), outgoing, friendly and above all eager to prove herself.

Until one day she ventured into the Mournshaws. I haven't pinned down exactly what it was that drove her there, maybe she was trying to retrieve some rare healing herb, or maybe she was lured there by curiosity alone, but whatever the reason, she did not return. At least not for some time, long enough that the Stag-Clan thought she had died.

When she did finally emerge from that forest, she was... changed. She did not remember anything that happened to her, and her hair had been bleached stark-white.

(on the left is how she looked before The Incident, and the right is her current appearance. the design is probably subject to change tho bc this was just a quick doodle from earlier today)

She would also often see things that weren't there, and would be frequently pulled into waking dreams where strange and sometimes disturbing scenes would play out. These, she did not realize at the time, were actually prophetic visions, but shrouded in such obscure metaphor that she could not recognize them for what they truly were. (A ghostly white hand, growing to giant size and engulfing the entire village, was a frequent appearance.)

Instead, it only reminded her of the tale of Muirgel the Mad, an old story that many in the Stag-Clan thought was a mere myth used by parents to scare their children away from going into the Mournshaws. It told of another young woman who had vanished into the forest for a time, and also came back with stark-white hair, but when she returned she had been either possessed or driven mad by some fell spirit of the forest, and she slew her entire family before she was driven away into the night and never seen again.

Because of this, Gwen does not believe that her prophetic visions are visions at all, and instead thinks they are bouts of madness or symptoms of a fell spirit trying to take over her mind. So believing herself to be a danger to her clan, she locked herself away in her home for months and refused to come out for anyone. She also abandoned her apprenticeship with Cianán as well, as she thought her cursed presence would only do more harm than good to their patients.

It was around this time that Celeair found his way to Lhan Tarren, and with great difficulty as well as a solid wooden door between them, managed to befriend her.

the plan for her currently is that she and Celeair will go on an adventure through the Mournshaws together in order to track down the spirit responsible for Gwen's disappearance all those months ago, and through that find that her current state is not a curse at all but a benevolent spirit's misguided attempt at giving the Stag-Clan a boon in the form of glimpses into the future.

Once she understands the reasons behind her visions and no longer fears them, she can finally begin to discern their meanings and use them to help her clan. She also returns to her apprenticeship with Cianán, and is a key part in helping Celeair adjust to Dunlanding culture and better fit in with the people of Trum Dreng

[detectiveneve]

sorry I'm gonna cringepost again.

there's something I need to expel from my brain in terms of how astarion grapples and feels resentment/disgust/derision toward the concepts of heroics and ""good"" people and the way that emrys craves deeply to be good but will ultimately always fall short of the mark (in her own mind, at least) because she's too angry + too violent + too impulsive + too outraged (toward injustice, cruelty, in the world), the paladin ideal will never be met. and how when they're put together in the same room they line up to smack each other RIGHT in the thing theyre sensitive about. astarion lays out clearly the failures of the very foundations of her belief systems, makes her grapple with the things that are too extreme, whats long since become burdens to her, and she forces him to endure the fact that there are at least a few people in the world that are willing to fight with him and for others. and they're both? scrappy people, really. and go hard in the opposite directions but on the same wavelength of... interaction; both snarky, stubborn, toe to toe on everything, admirable of resilience. sort of forced together by circumstance, but completely filling in the gaps the other's got going on. it's just where he's got the lying and the charades and the bullshit and she is so Brusque and bludgeoning through at all times that the charade is moot. completely antithetical to everything he's been doing for the last 200 yrs, which is as irritating as it can maybe be refreshing. and he makes her laugh. WHICH IS NICE.

[skeletalheartattack]

What are your OCs favourite toys? I love toys.

it took me a bit to think about, but i think my characters favourite toys would be like:

Boe: a wooden do-nothing machine

Budd: a stray old tin can

Ruce: just a tech deck

[hannibalismos-jaaneman]

is it just the cogs of my brain whirring wildly or was bedelia kinda sorta in love with hannibal too?

[hot-cocoa-addict]

hi hello how do people deal with the fact that they, while trying to write out one fic, end up with another completely plotted out in their head with a good headstart on a potential chapter one written down on a doc??

should i try to juggle two fics at once? absolutely not. will i? ... maybe.