#as if guided by the hand of fate I actually was able to find these two clips extremely easily

[depravitycentral]

I don’t know if this appeals to anyone but me, but I’ve been watching a lot of period pieces about Regency Era England (specifically the 1995 Pride and Prejudice and Bridgerton) and I can’t stop thinking about the way women were actually treated like property, their only purpose to wed and produce children. Imagine the yandere possibilities, and the absolute lack of control you’d have over your fate.

Specifically, I can’t stop thinking about the lack of care and the disregard for social customs and norms yanderes could exhibit in that era. The rules are so very strict, and so very numerous – really, can he be blamed for not adhering to each and every one? Sure, he doesn’t treat any other woman this way, but is it such a crazy notion that he breaks a rule here or there? Surely not – not when it’s so very obvious that the proposal is coming, that he’s absolutely hell bent on keeping you pristine and pretty and pregnant in his own abode, not the pathetic pile of wood and roofing you call your home.

Maybe he’s always been one for attending the local and regional balls – for appearances, yes, but also because there’s nothing more that he loves than being in a room with all sorts of beautiful women and alcohol. Maybe he likes to play the politics game, stringing along every girl he can find so that he gets his pick of wives, so that he can bed any woman he so pleases without as much as a goodbye. Except that once his feelings for you form, his composure crumbles a bit.

He’s standing much, much too close to you throughout the entirety of your dance with him. His hips are tightly pressed against your ass as he follows the 1, 2, 3 of the waltz, the shuddering breath you hear at your ear making your skin crawl.

Maybe he’s insisted on keeping his hand much too low as he guides you through the dance, almost able to feel the hem of your underclothes under the layers of your dress, his fingers eager as he presses them tighter and tighter against you.

He’ll speak to you during the dance, his voice low and whispered and his mouth much too close to your ear, the audible wet sound of him licking his lips seeming louder than the quartet in the corner of the dancefloor.

He’s even asking you to remove your gloves, won’t you? I wouldn’t want to ruin the delicate silk – what would your dear mother think of me? And once they’re off (because really, his tone left very little room for rebuttal), his bare skin is pressing against yours, his palms clammy and sweating and absolutely engulfing yours with the way he keeps grabbing at more more more, wanting to feel every inch of you possible.

And then of course there’s those who aren’t as bold with physicality – no, the mere thought of being any closer to you than society permits is enough to get them hot under the collar, so nervous and flustered that they’re sure they’ll trip over themselves, that they’ll make an absolute fool in front of you. Instead, they resort to more classy measures – that is, it’s a bit jarring when they quickly approach you the moment you’ve entered the ballroom, swallowing harshly and asking in a voice that’s just a hair too high-pitched if they could perhaps have the honor of claiming your first dance this evening?

You can’t exactly say no – and even as you watch him eagerly scribble his name down on the first dance slot, then the second, then the third and fifth and tenth, what can you really say? He’s wealthier than your family, and your mother watches from the corner with a glint in her eye because oh, isn’t this just such an advantageous match?

Even the grouches who only attended the ball in which they met you upon a friend’s request act out in unexpected ways. They seem distracted, clutching onto their lemonade glass with a grip tight enough to turn their knuckles white, their shoulders visibly tense as their eyes scan the room over and over. They’re looking for you, of course. Mentally guessing at what colors you’d be donning this evening, how your hair is styled, what sorts of jewels and precious jewelry sits so prettily in the hollow of your throat or dangles against the sensitive skin of the juncture of your neck and jaw.

And once they've found you, they may not have the courage to speak with you or dance with you. But suddenly you've gained a permanent shadow for the evening. Where you go, he goes. He’s following you a good five feet behind, snaking around fellow attendees and keeping his eyes locked on your figure, biting his lip as he mentally notes who’s eye you’re catching, who’s speaking with you, who’s approaching you with a request to dance.

He’s standing directly behind you as you dance with some low-level baron, some insignificant man who can’t hold a candle to the riches, comfort and adoration that he can give you. And he's just staring, too – eyes like daggers as he watches the interaction, letting the anger simmer and fester until he finally, finally approaches you, his voice gruff and choppy as he compliments your dress (something like this dress is much more handsome than the last one you wore) and practically demands your next dance. Yes, it’s awkward, and yes, he leads far, far too much.

But really, the truly terrible thing to think about is what happens after the ball – when they call upon you in the sanctity of your own home, all sorts of love declarations falling from their lips that are much too hyper specific and draw upon knowledge you know you’ve never shared with him. But you must be kind; he’s of higher rank, after all, in a position where a few bad words could ruin your family forever.

It’s just that when he drops to one knee and proposes, it’s difficult to remember your delicate position because he’s managed to find the ring of your dreams, and he’s going on about how he’s had your bedchamber already decorated to fit all your tastes, how he has a wardrobe full of new dresses he’s had custom-fit to you, how he’s already decided that you’re to have a son first, but then all daughters and you’ll name them James, Eleanor, Kathryn, Marta…

And as he embraces you, the hug either much too tight or much too stiff, it’ll feel like a cage locking into place around you. Because really, what can you do? If you try to fight him, he has the wealth and connections to force your family into consenting. And even if your parents refuse to hand you off to a man you clearly despise and fear, it’s not so difficult to spread the rumors about your purity, to claim that he’d witnessed a servant passionately embracing you, that he’d seen you naked in the arms of some butcher’s boy…

It’s your word against his, and oh, isn’t he so kind for still having you after your reputation’s been destroyed? Isn’t he so dreamy and chivalrous for saving you from a life of destitution and outcast? Even if he’s the one to blame for that life in the first place?

And he’ll be so good to you, he promises. He’ll explain each and every aspect of the wedding night, of the consummation of a marriage, showing you exactly how deeply he’s been desiring you, how long he’s been craving you, how many times he’s fucked his fist and been thinking of you you you in those tempting dresses you wear, of those hips that you sway and move like a fucking minx at every dance you attend…

He’ll leave you wanting for nothing – aside from perhaps your freedom, and perhaps your sanity. But he’s sure you’ll learn to love him.

You must, after all.

Specifically the image of a few characters in the traditional regency dress is making me feral - imagine Aizawa, who's known as the reclusive Duke of the area, his public appearances next to none and his temperament difficult to handle. But alas, what's this? A few snarky comments from you - also standing against the ballroom's wall - about the ridiculousness of women's fashion and the discomfort of dancing in heels has him chuckling a bit, your obvious lack of knowledge of his position making him feel oddly seen. And when you find yourself falling into his company at the next ball he's forced to attend, Aizawa decides there's something particularly agreeable about your smile - finding himself wanting to know if your lips taste as good as they look. And when he loses his composure and blurts these words out, don't expect him to cut off contact with you - instead, he'll immediately speak with your father, requesting your hand in marriage and hoping that in time you might learn to forgive his dismissal of your opinion. Perhaps a child would help distract you, yes?

Imagine Rengoku, who's introduced to you by the ball's hostess, Shinobu. Imagine Rengoku, who immediately dances with you and keeps returning to fill up your dance card, that smile blinding as he spends the evening on the dancefloor by your side. Imagine Rengoku, who calls upon you everyday after first meeting you, his visits growing in frequency - sometimes multiple a day - and duration as the weeks drag on. Imagine the way he'll end each visit by grasping your hand in his and giving it a much-too-long kiss, assuring you that it's only taking this long for him to propose to and wed you because he's having an entirely new manor built - one he thinks you'll like a bit more. Nevermind that you don't wish him to continue his visits or leave you alone - do you like floral or patterned wallpapers more?

Imagine Akaashi, who's every woman's dream for both his looks and status. Imagine the way he holds you so delicately as he twirls you, those steel eyes of his practically cutting into you, his mid-dance questions starting off simple and innocent and slowly morphing into something that feels like an interrogation, something that feels too intimate and demanding and strange. Imagine the way he grasps onto your wrist - still gently but firm enough to eliminate your escape - as he guides you towards the refreshments table, insisting that you absolutely must drink something because he's noticed you haven't drunk anything since you arrived nearly an hour ago. But don't mention the fact that you didn't meet until roughly twenty minutes ago - long after you'd walked through the front doors.

Imagine Chrollo, who manages to charm his way into getting you alone with him on the balcony, those dark eyes smoldering as he compliments you. There's something stiff and rehearsed about it, and as you snort and ask him how many women he seduces in a night's work, something clicks in his brain. Imagine the way he doesn't leave your side for an instant after that, glued to your hip and seamlessly managing to evade each and every potential suitor from approaching you. Imagine the way he begins inviting you for long stays at his rather luxurious home, conveniently placing your bedchambers beside his own, spending night after night with his ear pressed against your shared wall and biting his lip as he fists his cock to the sound of you humming to yourself and washing your face with the pale of lukewarm water he'd used first then had the servants bring to you.

[mr-chatterboxs-column]

vague explanation of why these clips are jointly relevant below the cut

So earlier this month I watched the movie Valley Girl for the first time (Nic Cage Summer woo), which was designed to delight me personally, like a beautiful projection of Romeo and Juliet onto the TMBG song "XTC vs Adam Ant," but with the impressive era-specific datedness of Mannequin, another rom-com I adore because of, not despite, its having aged so badly it reads as a period piece. The thing that thrilled me from the start was the dialogue, even though I couldn't really justify it with logic mid-experience. When I was writing a review and later trying to convey my enthusiasm to my best friend, my instinct was to compare it to Soderbergh even though on the face of it I could not begin to understand why.

I am a known, diagnosed Soderbergh enjoyer slash apologist (don't worry, it’s not terminal, I realize Magic Mike XXL is better than the original) and the speech above from Sex, Lies, & Videotape is one that has been engraved in my brain since the first time I saw that movie, probably in high school. It's got an acclaimed script that is known for its seeming lack of formalism, its realism, but one of my favorite things about that speech is that it is a structural Chekhov's Gun in disguise as realism. It feels like a movie that is full of conversations that go nowhere, but it is actually a movie about "conversations that go nowhere" -- like, they are *a plot point*.

It's about analyzing the value of conversations that go nowhere, about how they are valued in different ways in different contexts and between different people, about when that is good and when that is bad and when that is just something you should notice, like maybe we as people don't always notice when we have replaced doing something with instead just having a conversation that goes nowhere. And that dinner conversation that feels like just an excerpt from an awkward one-act play about "huh it can be weird to talk to college friends you haven't seen in years" is actually expository dialogue establishing "this character actively does not want to be able to lock his fucking front door." I'm sure if Soderbergh did write that one-act play it would be great and probably really fun to watch, but this is a guy who has directed some of the best heist movies of the last 20 years. It's one of those cases where "therapy language" in a fictional setting is being used not because the screenwriter is part of LA therapy culture or because it's an element of the modern comedic mileau but because it's establishing the particular relationship different characters have with Literal Therapy, you know? So in that sense, it's not a realistic script at all. It's formalized, it's designed to feel like Ann, John, Graham, and Cynthia are in these modern Southern harlequinade roles or they're trying to break out of them.

Anyway, for me that's how it ties back around to Valley Girl. I have absolutely no context for whether the slang in Valley Girl is being used "accurately" or "realistically" (it was made years before I was born and I have never been to California) and I don't think that matters at all. All the characters are communicating in a way that serves a function, they're establishing their roles and how they're trying or not trying to defy their roles or reach across the arbitrary barriers they encounter (mostly capitalistic). So many of the big scenes where you're supposed to see chemistry building between Randy and Julie are them talking excitedly with each other at a distance, so their dialogue isn't quite audible, and once the camera reaches them it's not clear what they could really have been talking *about* before; a lot of their most emotional on-screen exchanges are conversations that go nowhere to the point of barely having any nouns in them. But they clearly both know that talking to each other *at all* is defying their roles, and then in the obligatory pre-climactic breakup scene, the true high point, the "one key" moment in Valley Girl, is Randy, visibly shocked at having been dumped and struggling to think of a retort that will hurt Julie in turn, telling her to "fuck off, fer sure, like totally," making fun of her Valley slang in a way that almost feels like breaking the fourth wall, given the bulk of the movie never acknowledges that most of the cast members are using this extremely distinctive mode of speech. This element of the script that has been a source of comic relief throughout has been pointedly identified as a symbol of economic and class divisions, all the social tensions that the movie is *actually* about, for the entire early section that seems like just a by-the-numbers teen comedy.

[nobibiname]

Elain’s Soft Power🌸/ ✨different strength✨ and the Cauldron bond

I’ve said this elsewhere but wanted to have a complete post to drive this point home, HOFAS spoilers, you’ve been warned.

Back in CC1&2 we learned that thanks to the Asteri, there’s a lot of obsession about “breeding”, esp among the Fae, on Midgard. And then we learned why: to create the strongest food source for them.

Now in HOFAS, enter Bryce in Prythian, we find out these same Asteri corrupted the cauldron .

So at this point honestly, yeah I was surprised that the majority of the fandom didn’t call out the mating bonds in prythian, and start looking at them more critically. What is the meaning of a mating bond from a corrupted cauldron? What will be the ultimate point of them?

Remember when in ACOMAF Feyre asks Rhys “why not make them mates?” One of the things he says is “… probably to produce the strongest offspring” (paraphrasing)

Strongest for what? the point of the Cauldron mating bonds is breeding, the strongest food for the Asteri. That’s it.

The mating bond is not what the Fae believe it to be. It may have been sacred at some point, but now it’s just the outcome of a magical calculation resulting in highest calories for intergalactic parasites.

I think for this reason it was really important (thematically at least) for Feysand and Nessian to fall in love first. They just “happen” to also have a mating bond. If their relationships mainly hinge on the bond, the romance is diluted. And we have plenty of examples of failed relationships of mates, (Rhys’ parents, Tamlin’s parents). I also want to acknowledge that the Mother’s power is also still there to some extent (we see that when Nesta gives up her powers and gets to keep a bit from a “gentle hand”) , and could have guided those bonds, but it doesn’t change the fact that the main point of the cauldron now is still food for the Asteri.

Lastly this also shows courage in rejecting a Cauldron bond, it’s actually an act of defiance. Asserting your will over your own fate, a “fuck you” to the Asteri and their corrupted manipulation of a sacred object and institution of Fae culture.

And I wonder is this the “different strength” that Elain will exhibit? Rejecting her cauldron bond. I think we’ll find out exactly why she hasn’t yet, and I actually think whatever the reason, that takes strength too. She’s stuck between a lot of willful minds and stubborn powers. Sticking to her guns is probably not easy. But also is this a strength that maybe Feyre and Nesta don’t have? I’m definitely speculating here, but maybe resisting the cauldron’s will like this could be something beyond them?

Elain is heavily foreshadowed to be a Gardner of magic of sorts; cultivating and growing with her magic, rather than fighting. So maybe rather than yielding to the cauldron’s will for her, she might assert her will on the corrupted cauldron and heal it? The ivy around the gates of her mind growing so strong around the iron to be able to crush the iron itself….

It would be in line with both how she’s foreshadowed, and how Feyre sees her. She will still be the gentle dreamer, but strong in her soft power.

I might never have been the biggest fan of the mating bond, (though I acknowledge it’s a staple of the genre) but given what we now canonically know about the history of Prythian, I urge the fandom to view “who you want to be mates” through a different lens. Bc that word truly no longer means what we thought it meant.

[haithamuse]

໒꒱.∘ 02:23 AM ──── REO MIKAGE

absolutely no clue if this is coherent, but i don't really care as this is purely self-indulgent. i love him so much guys i could cry.

cw. lil bit of swearing but it wouldn't be my writing without it, mention of bruises

your eyes narrowed at the bright light when you reached for your phone after waking up, realising it was the middle of the night. apparently it looks like this was yet another dreadful night with two hours of sleep, as rest has not been able to find you easily lately.

groaning internally, you let your body fall back into the mattress, contemplating wether you should get up or stare at the ceiling until morning. suddenly though, you freeze after you feel your arm not hitting the empty bed sheets, but something — or rather, someone else instead.

reo stirred slightly at the contact and your head fell to the side, carefully watching the outlines of his body in the dark for any indication of disturbing his peaceful slumber. you held in for a few seconds, before carefully pulling your arm back. a sigh of relief left your lips as you realised that, no — your boyfriend still seemed to be asleep.

on the other hand though, that little rush of adrenaline also made something else clear to you — falling back asleep was not going to happen soon. ‘fucking hell’, you pinched the bridge of your nose, exasperatedly resigning to your fate.

in one swift motion, you carefully flipped the covers to the side and swung your legs over the side of the bed — goosebumps immediately growing on your skin as soon as your feet touch the cold ground. before you could reach the door however, the rustling of your bedsheets could be heard again. “wait”, reo groaned with sleep still evident in his voice.

you turned around in surprise, as you were sure you had not woken him up, “you’re awake?”

“how could i not?”, he yawned and with the little light that came from the window, you could make out how he was rubbing his eyes — presumably to wipe the sleepiness out of them. “after being so rudely awakened.”

there was a playful lilt in his voice, but you still felt bad for waking him up. on the flipside however, it made you appreciate the decision to position your bed next to the window. it allowed you to look at his shirtless upper body in — quite literally — a different light.

it was beautiful how the moonlight highlighted his defined muscles. it framed his body perfectly, bringing out all those curves, bumps and dips or birth marks that you loved so much. even that almost healed bruise on his right shoulder, which came into being when a practice match didn’t go quite as it was supposed to do.

you actually saw how it happened, as you were right there. it wasn’t planned for you to be there at his practice, but reo had forgotten his house keys. you noticed it as you were about to go out and buy groceries, and being the thoughtful partner that you are, decided to drop them off before going on about your day.

so imagine your surprise when you saw your boyfriend laying on the field with a bunch of his teammates surrounding him.

to say that you threw a fit and acted like he was dying was an understatement — and reo even still teases you about it! though some of his teammates call him quite the lucky guy for having such a caring s/o, reo still tells you that ‘it’s not a big deal’ and to ‘stop worrying so much’. little do you know though that his heart always skips a beat whenever you show that you care, silently begging for you to keep loving him like that.

your fleeting thoughts were suddenly interrupted and you were pulled back to reality, as you felt reo pinching your ass, quickly dodging as you squealed in surprise and instinctively kicked for his legs in response. “c’mon let’s go”, your boyfriend just chuckled and ruffled your hair. even as you pouted at him and reo being barely concious, he’s still being the same gentleman as always and opens the door for you, guiding you through by placing his hand at the small of your back.

it doesn’t matter when or where you are, reo always looks out for you.

you, however, where dumbfounded, “what?”

“kitchen”, he simply stated. “hot chocolate.”

you didn’t even have to tell him, because reo already knew.

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[orion4ever]

Cove Holden x mc? Cove gets heatstroke when surfing with mc, and mc and cliff take care of him? Thanks 😊

Author’s note: I actually got heatstroke once while at a flea market , I had to sit down on the concrete lmao! I kept the step ambiguous enough, it could either be Step 2 or 3 depending on what you want! ^^

late note: i got this request so wrong 😦, I thought it said mc gets heatstroke..Whoops! Thats my mistake

Pairing: MC x Cove Holden

🐚

He starts noticing instantly if you start showing signs of suffering a heat stroke.

Leaves you alone when you wave it off as the sun just making sluggish.

If you look like you’re about to pass out then expect Cove to guide you to a chair and give you some of his cold water.

He gets so worried about you and thought it was something more serious :(

Luckily both him and his father are both very sweet.

It was the hottest day of summer, at a more populated beach there was a surfing competition where you and Cove would be competing.

The two of you were very excited about it, you had been practicing together every day that you could and were confident that you would OBLITERATE every surfer there!

Cliff had been the first to volunteer to drive the two of you out of town to the beach in the neighboring town to compete.

You all sat in the car, Cove tapped his fingers on his thigh as he looked out the window.

You leaned on your side of the car and stared out the window too.

Cliff was keeping his eyes on the road but decided to start a conversation.

“So, you two excited?” He asked with an easy smile, already knowing the answer. Cove turned away from the window and gave a half excited nervous smile.

“Yeah. It’s going to be great” he said with a chuckle. “This would be the first time I will be surfing with other surfers though. What if I do badly” He asked, rubbing his nape.

“Don’t be so down on yourself, we’ve been practicing every day. Even if we aren’t as good, we made an effort!” You had encouraged, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

“You basically live in the ocean” You had added with a chuckle.

“Hey.” He said with a raised brow.

“MC is right, Son. What matters in the end is that you have fun.” Cliff added, peering into the rearview mirror to look at Cove.

“I guess you two are right. I am feeling a bit better about this.” Cove had said, now with a more sure smile.

That's the spirit, Bud. And perfect timing too. We’re here.” Cliff finished, now pulling into the beach parking lot and finding a spot.

The three of you filed out of the car and stood around. Cliff pulled out the beach bag your moms had prepared for them. (knowing him, he’d probably sit on the sand and forget to pack sunscreen)

“Okay, guys. Let’s put on some screen and Zinc…?” He questioned the last thing when noticing a small new packet of Zinc Surfer Sunscreen.

Before Cove could comment or protest, his dad squeezed a good chunk of it in his hands and covered Cove’s nose and cheeks with it.

“Ah-“ he said startled but accepted his fate of being properly sun-screened.

When Cliff was done he motioned for you to take the zinc and sunscreen so that you could apply your own.

You shook your head. “Nah. It's good. It’s even that sunny today.” You protested. “I barely wear sunscreen or ‘Zinc’ anyway.” You continued, you didn’t like how either of those felt on your face.

“I dunno…” Cliff said a little hesitantly.

“Mr.Holden, I promise I will be fine.” You tried and reassured with a laugh.

“Well okay then. You know what works for you. Tell me if you wanna reconsider later though, okay?” Cliff caved in.

“Of course! Now come on, we got a surfing competition to win.”

-

It had been three hours of the surfing competition. You and Cove were able to get first place in your age category and were rewarded with a humble-sized trophy.

Since the three of you drove out here, you may as well enjoy this new beach until it was time to go home.

While you and Cove talked, you began to feel a little lightheaded and your vision began to feel like you were spinning. You began to fan your face a little, maybe thinking that your surf suit was making it feel hotter.

“MC, are you ok?” Cove asked, noticing your behavior change.

“Yeah... I think the sun is making me sluggish or maybe I am just tired from the competition..?” You questioned.

“Do you want to sit down?” Cove asked.

“Nah. I am good. Let’s keep going, I think they’re giving out hotdogs over there.!

-

The sun was trying to boil you alive today.

Maybe this was the sun’s revenge on you, for not heeding your neighbor’s warning and putting sunscreen on.

You swayed and held your head, you felt so dizzy and nauseous. You decided that you needed a break and flopped onto the warm sand.

“MC?! A-are you ok?” Cove asked, turning around to see you helplessly lying on the ground.

“Ughhhh…” you groaned, feeling Cove’s arms on yours and hoisting you up as best as he could before he put you on his back for a piggyback ride.

“It’s fine, it’s fine! Let’s go get my dad” He tried and reassure you but you could hear the panic in his voice.

He carried you to where his dad had set up base, sitting on a towel that he had placed under an abandoned umbrella. When Cliff felt eyes on him he turned to Cove jogging towards him with you on his back and instantly got up.

“What's wrong?” He said, worried. He moved out of the way so that Cove could lay you on the towel. “I think they got heatstroke..”

Cliff got right into the action. “Cove stay here with them. I am getting a bucket of ice and water.” He instructed before quickly sprinting off to whatever lifeguard tower he could find.

Cove sat next to you and used the corner of the tower to wipe the sweat from your forehead. “Were you feeling sick earlier?” He asked, earning a slight nod from you.

“It's ok. We will uh get you something cold to drink, maybe you should unzip the top part of your surf suit.” Cove suggested.

You agreed and shed off the top layer of the suit, leaving you in your swim top/bare chest. Cliff had made his entrance again, this time with three bottles in a bucket of ice and a towel.

“I got the stuff- and good job. They need as much cold air as they can get.” He commended Cove before kneeling next to you and opening a cold bottle of water. “Here, make sure to take big gulps,” Cliff said, leaning you on the beach bag so that you could properly rehydrate.

It was just you sipping as much water as you could while Cove drenched the towel in the ice water and placed it on the back of your neck, after a while you felt much better.

Cliff had joked that the sun was trying to turn you to ash while Cove kept asking if it was you not wearing the sunscreen or if it was you not getting enough cold water in your system.

You felt better but you felt even more better knowing you had amazing guys around to help you.

[bi-bard]

Cruel Trick of Fate - Xenk Yendar Imagine [Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves]

Title: Cruel Fate

Pairing: Xenk Yendar X Reader

Word Count: 1,508 words

Warning(s): self-image issues (i think that's a good way to describe it), mention of attack

Summary: Xenk saves the life of a person in need. (Y/n)'s time spent healing brings the duo exceptionally closer than either of them considered to be possible.

Author's Note: I don't know if I'm surprised that this is happening or not.

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

My story truly begins when I woke up in what I assumed was a cave.

I had no idea where I was or how I had gotten there. And once I blinked the sleep from my eyes, I realized those facts and shoved myself out of the bed.

I scrambled, doing a circle in the hopes of getting some kind of hold on my surroundings. It didn't do much.

I reached over blindly, grabbing a stick of some kind that I could use as a makeshift weapon.

"You shouldn't be moving around."

I jumped when I heard a voice. I held out my arms, trying to look more threatening to the man than I actually was.

"You hit your head," he said. "You should sit down before your head begins to hurt again."

"Who are you and where am I," I asked. "And why did you bring me here?"

"My name is Xenk Yendar, this is my home, and you were attacked," he answered simply.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That didn't actually answer my final question."

"Your head was hurt," he repeated. "By the creature that attacked you. Do you not remember?"

"Head injuries can impact memory," I replied. "Shocking, I know."

"I do not find that shocking at all," his eyebrows furrowed for a moment.

"I was being- it wasn't- why am I explaining the concept of language to you," I scolded myself more than I truly spoke to him. "Let me go."

"I cannot do that in good conscience," he shook his head. "How are you feeling?"

"I- I'm fine," I blinked a few times when a spiking pain shot through my head, finding a place in my temple to continuously remind me of its presence. "I want to go home."

"If I allow you to do that and you end up even more hurt on the trip, then I would never be able to forgive myself."

"Then you can guide me, how's... how's that?"

I must've swayed a bit when I spoke.

Xenk stepped forward, only stopping when I shakily pointed the stick at him.

"You are threatening me with a stick and are clearly weak, please sit down," he pleaded.

I closed my eyes, my face scrunching up a bit as I did so. I felt him pull the stick from my hands before guiding me to sit back down on the bed.

"I will be right back."

I dug the heels of my hands into my eyes, not acknowledging his comment.

At the time, I decided that the entire event was decided by some cruel act of fate.

It felt like I spent ages with Xenk.

At first, I was angry. Dismissive. I made my discomfort very well known. The more that I looked back on that time, the more stunned I am that Xenk never told me to leave. He refused to give up on me until I was fully healed.

I did eventually begin to calm down. Anger and annoyance became something close to indifference. It was all much calmer. We would eat together, conversations were less awkward, and my constant need to fight or run seemed to dissipate.

When that indifference changed, I wanted to refuse that it happened.

It felt strange to think that such a change had happened. Ridiculous.

It was so much easier for me to ignore it happened at all.

And then, Xenk came back with a wound on his arm.

I furrowed my eyebrows as he walked in.

"Are you alright," I asked.

He nodded. "Just need to take care of this."

I watched him for a while as he cleaned his wound and attempted to take care of it. It didn't seem like a very intense wound, but it did seem a bit difficult for him to take care of.

It took me far too long to finally step in.

"Alright, stop," I walked over and swatted his hand away. "I may go mad watching your stubbornness."

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment. "How would my supposed stubbornness cause you to lose- you were figurative!"

"Yes," I nodded as I moved his arm. He hissed a bit. "Does that hurt?"

"Not at all," he replied, voice slightly strained.

I rolled my eyes before walking around him and sitting behind him on the mattress. He was able to lower his arm and I was still able to properly take care of his wound.

I remained quiet as I wrapped his arm. I was the youngest in my family. My experience with tending to wounds was minuscule. But I could do some of the bare minimum.

"How is that," I asked quietly after pulling my hands away.

"Better than I could have done on my own," he mumbled.

It was then that I noticed how... strange the moment felt. We were so close and it all felt so... intimate.

We fell silent again. We both seemed fixated on watching each other's eyes. As if we were attempting to read each other's minds before either one of us made a mistake.

I nodded somewhat awkwardly before going to stand from my spot. "I... I think I am going to make us both some tea. I know that it won't heal you, but it certainly couldn't hurt."

I went to walk away, but his good hand stopped me, catching my wrist before I could get too far away from him. I stopped, turning back to him.

"What is it," I asked quietly.

He blinked a few times as if suddenly realizing what he had actually done. "I... I'm afraid that I don't truly know. I'm sorry."

He let go of my wrist, still stunned by himself.

I paused for a moment. After contemplating my choices, I stepped closer to him. He looked up at me.

My eyes moved up to his forehead. I don't know why. I think holding eye contact with him was simply too intense. I heard him sigh as my eyes moved. He must have assumed that I was staring at the mark decorating his skin and not just trying to cope with my own emotions.

"That is why it has taken you so long to fully trust me," he muttered.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "What?"

"The symbol of Szass Tam," he explained, looking away from me. "Some part of me will always be lost to it. I am closer to a monster than not... it is why you were so hesitant to trust me."

"No," I shook my head. "No, no, Xenk. That is not true."

He looked at me again.

"I didn't trust you because I was hurt and found myself in a strange place with a person that I had never met before," I corrected. "It was a very understandable reaction. But once I got to know you, I trusted you more. I cannot think of a single moment that the symbol on your forehead was what determined how I felt about you.

"You are also far from any kind of monster. You are a hero. You have saved many people, you protected me when you didn't even know my name, you have vowed yourself to a life helping others. I don't know a monster that would ever do such a thing."

Xenk seemed to scan every inch of my face, waiting for some sign that I was being dishonest. I reached up, gently running my thumb over the mark on his forehead. He took a deep breath, eyes falling shut as I did.

"Silly thing, really," I muttered. "I didn't even notice it when we first met. Did you know that?"

"Really?"

I nodded. "I was a little too focused on other things... like figuring out what had happened."

"When did you notice it," he asked.

"We were having dinner. That first night," I said. "I was refusing to eat until you did, so I had nothing to focus on other than you. That's when I started making out the symbol. I just... I couldn't bring myself to care about it."

"Why?"

"Don't know," I shrugged. "Instinct... fate?"

"I do not understand why fate would prevent you from caring."

"Maybe fate didn't want me to leave," I replied. "If I cared about the mark, then I would have."

"And why would fate not want you to leave?"

I could see something cross his face. Some small, knowing look. I bit back a growing smile at the idea. There was this air of safety and comfort. Security in whatever choice I made next.

I took a deep breath before leaning down and gently pressing my lips to his. I felt the hand of his uninjured arm reach up and touch the hand not resting on his face.

It was only a few moments before I pulled away. I slowly grinned at him. He smiled back at me.

"I'm glad that fate kept you from leaving," he muttered.

I chuckled. "So am I."

I leaned forward and kissed him again.

Quite a cruel trick that fate decided to play, wasn't it?

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

Author's Note: I just wanna brag about the fact that I managed to guess where this movie was filmed while I was watching it with a friend. It was the coolest thing I've done in a long time.

Also, that I kept making comparisons between this movie and Ella Enchanted, but that's not really as cool.

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

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[i-dagger-you]

Timeless Kiss | Sylki in Loki Season 2 Fix-It

Loki goes back in time right before Sylvie turns into 'spaghetti.' 'There's nowhere left to go,' Sylvie's voice echoes. With a flick of his wrist, he pauses time. 'Loki, what's going on?' Sylvie asks as she looks around at the threads of the timeline that were once dissapearing, now stopped. 'I've finally learned to control the time slipping,' Loki explains. He goes on to explain why HWR must not be killed.

Sylvie, still trying to process what Loki is saying, whispers, 'So what're you planning to do?' Loki takes a deep breath and says, 'I'm gonna stop you from killing HWR. Well, I did... multiple times, actually. That's why I'm here. I need you to tell me what I can do to possibly stop you from executing him.'

Sylvie suddenly thought of something, something that would make her vulnerable. Something she never thought she would ever consider, but it involves the fate of the timelines, and lives are at stake. Most importantly, it's Loki with whom she'll be vulnerable. She contemplates for a moment before saying, 'Enchant me. See what I really wanted.' Loki's eyes widen at the suggestion, and he says, 'I... I've never been able to enchant alone before.' Sylvie responds, 'Who says you're alone?' while gently guiding his hands to cup her neck, her own hands resting on top of his.

Loki pauses, subtly nodding, and closes his eyes. Suddenly, a wave of emotions and memories from their fight at the Citadel comes crashing in, but from her point of view. He realizes that she hadn't kissed him as a mere distraction but that she actually had feelings for him and waiting for him to come find her after she pushed him to safety. They were on the same boat, both vulnerable and afraid to speak about their innermost feelings to someone they cared about—a lot. He opens his eyes, gasping for air, before leaning in for a kiss. One hand caresses her cheek while the other still lingers around her neck, igniting a fiery passion between them. Sylvie's eyes widen in shock before closing, and she deepens the kiss. They lose themselves in the moment, reveling in the love and passion that flow between them.

As they pull apart, with their faces mere inches from each other, Sylvie whispers, 'Yeah, that could work...' Loki grins as he whispers back, 'Let's test it out a little longer, just to make sure.' Sylvie smiles against his lips as they continue to kiss slowly, for what feels like an eternity, while time stands still quite literally.

'I love you,' Loki says with emotion as he pulls back to look into her eyes. Sylvie blushes and teases, 'Tell me that earlier, and I might just say it back.' Loki softly chuckles before sighing and adding, 'I'll be right back by your side and I'll always come running after you.' Sylvie smiles as Loki closes his eyes to control time, intending to go back in time, to the Citadel, but this time with a newfound certainty in their connection, a love that transcends time.

[scvrletstrange]

Valhalla | Loki x reader

Thor: Love and Thunder SPOILERS!!! This is also Loki from the original MCU timeline, who, you know died in Infinity War.

Summary: you died on battle after Gorr’s destruction. Once in Valhalla, you search for your dear love. 

Pairing: Loki x reader (no gender specified,  please let me know if you find any discrepancy)

"It's fine..."

"No, no, no!" He leaned down to you, your wound bleeding out so fast, he knew an asgardian wouldn’t bear a wound from the Necrosword.

"Thor, I am fine," a weak smile appeared on your dry lips. "Go with her."

"I shouldn't have dragged you here," he whispered. The tears forming on his blue eyes. “I’m so sorry-”

"No, I wanted to fight... along with you, I am fine... Don't forget that."

Your eyes opened. You blinked once, two times. The light was too strong for you, never in your life you've seen this kind of blinding light.

The last thing you remembered was Thor holding you in his arms. Gorr hurted you bad, but the pain was now gone. You sat down on the soft grass, blocking the light with your hand until you were able to actually see around.

There was a huge golden palace far away, a walking path leading you. The sky was blue and bright, just like you've heard the afterlife would be for your warriors.

Was it real?

“Y/N from Asgard,” a voice called behind you.

The man walked, standing up in front of you. He gave his hand to help you get up.

“Heimdall?”

The guardian smiled.

“Welcome, warrior.”

You accepted his hand, rising from the ground.

“Welcome to Valhalla.”

A smile appeared on your lips, the tears running on your cheeks. You hugged your dear friend, letting him know how much you missed him.

“I have someone who would love to meet you.”

Heimdall guided you through the path until you arrived to the palace. On the way, you encountered a couple of old friends and familiar faces from the Ragnarok and previous battles.

They all wore pretty robes and dresses, just like your clothes. The warriors seemed happy and finally in peace after a life full of worry. It was good knowing you will be able to share feasts with them.

Once you entered the palace, a crowd was able to be seen in the middle of the ball room.

“Is this what you do every day? Eat and drink mead?”

Heimdall chuckled. “Pretty much so, yes. We don’t get to do a lot of things here, you know. We just live peacefully, eat and talk about our biggest fights.”

The guardian started to look for someone within the warriors, you walked by his side.

“Of course you do...”

Making your way through the crowd of people, you finally saw him. The person Heimdall wanted to show you. He was all alone, resting his back against the pillar. His green eyes looked lost, looking all the people around having their feast, a half smile adorning his lips and his skin as pale as always has been. The green and black clothes he usually used to wear now gone and replaced for gold and white.

“Loki?”

His eyes went wide and the cup of mead fell off from his hand once he heard your voice. The prince raised himself from the pillar to see you. Heimdall gave you some space to be alone.

“My dear...” Loki got closer to you, his hand touched your cheek as if he was afraid of hurting you. Or afraid to think it was an illusion.

“You’re really here,” you cried, letting him touch your face. You grabbed his hands on yours, his skin felt cold. Just how you remembered.

His arms wrapped around you, squeezing you softly agains his body. Tears fell from your eyes. Finally you felt safe. After all these years, you missed his touch, his voice, his charm. Everything.

“Can we go outside?” you sobbed.

Loki took your hand and walked away with you from the crowd. You found a beautiful garden and a small fountain. He leaned until your foreheads touched, his hand caressing on your cheek like if you were meant to break in any second.

“I missed you so much...” a whisper fell from your lips. Your eyes opened and looked at his green gaze.

“Fate already reunited us. That’s all I care right now, I love you,” he mumbled against your lips before placing a soft kiss on them.

“I have so much to tell you,” you smiled. “I can’t believe I am here, in Valhalla with you.”

“Well we have now all the time in the universe, my love,” Loki kissed your lips one more time.

“You know, besides me Thor is very proud of you...”

“That moron,” he chuckled. “He better is.”

GENERAL MASTERLIST | MARVEL MASTERLIST

[object-headed-characters-yes]

Day 7- Doubt

I find RGB’s interactions with the previous heroes fascinating, and I like to wonder what those interactions would be like when RGB is alone/between heroes. So oops, this turned into a longer one-shot with RGB and Click.

Additional note: I still think about that panel of RGB seeing Click in the Market and Click pointing and making the shooting motion at RGB. In this one-shot, RGB isn't aware of where Click's eyes actually are. Some tags/etc. since this is longer:

Angst, torment/pain via shooting, violence, RGB/suffering, taunting, RBG running his mouth doesn’t do him any favors with Click, musing over the concept of pain both physical and mental for RGB, reminding one of one’s failures with a similar departure, some hurt/comfort (a lil RGB/Madras if you squint), despair/resignation/acceptance when the same thing happens again.

~

RGB didn’t notice the Doubts gathering nearby as the futility of what he was attempting to accomplish began to feel like a huge waste of effort. RGB should just give up, instead of fighting, and finally accept what was fast becoming inevitable.

And yet…

RGB can’t stop now.

Despite the hurt that came from becoming attached to his previous heroes who had failed, RGB just couldn’t stop now. Not after all he’d done to find the loophole that he was currently taking advantage of. And he knew better, now, after a few heroes, to be a little more careful so he didn’t end up in another situation where he had to abandon his hero to their doom.

Once was enough.

Once was enough to make the guilt linger, even if RGB told himself that it was for the best.

Click had not been what RGB thought he would be as a hero.

RGB’s walk had slowed as his thoughts briefly dwelt on the failed (and abandoned) hero. RGB could only hope that the next hero (after Click, and the last few) would surely be able to go on longer and succeed compared to those who came before? RGB needed to shake off the malaise that was plaguing him before he could not even accomplish going to find a hero again and-

Ah.

That explained his current train of thought.

RGB had come across the field of Doubts.

What terrible luck.

RGB was soon surrounded by many of the creatures, no longer squabbling amongst themselves. The telly-headed monster staggered along, occasionally tearing away Doubts that began to cling to him.

Almost out of the field.

Just a little further.

Click-click-click.

That sound…

Click-click-click.

Now, of all times?

Click-click-click.

RGB unwillingly stopped in place at the sound, wondering if he’d had a shadow the entire time he'd been going back to the beginning.

“Click.” RGB greeted, not turning around just yet as he raised his hands up and away from his pockets. No matter how much he wanted to go for something that might give him time to get away from Click, and any possible hurt that came with his appearance. Unless, of course, Click had changed his view of RGB, yet that was-

BANG!

Pain flared through RGB’s left leg, making him stagger then collapse to his right knee, swiftly using the cane in his hand to bat away a few Doubts that had wiggled closer as his other hand braced in the grass.

A bullet clattered nearby.

“Not even a greeting, Click?” RGB questioned, managing to speak without obvious agony; like he was just having a chat with an old friend. An old friend understandably upset with RGB’s previous action. “I thought a little repertoire might happen before you shot me, though as you see, it went right through me.”

The sound of the weapon could be heard being repositioned.

RGB knew what had Click after him.

Click knew as well RGB that the television-headed monster had abandoned him to a doomed fate. And now Click was within range of his guide turned enemy, again seeking to remove that which caused his inevitable demise in this world.

“You know, I thought we had quite a good chat before coming to this world." RGB had yet to reach for his suit coat, and every passing second he stood there meant being overwhelmed by the Doubts, or shot. "Surely, we could have that civil a conversation again? I am on a bit of a schedule here; I’m sure you understand that.”

A few clicks, a gnashing of unseen teeth, despite the fact RGB was fairly certain Click had none.

Not anymore.

“Even if I know you’re not precisely, ah, pleased with my previous decisions and actions, I’m sure you know it’s a, well, unfortunate 'duty' of mine to continue to find new heroes, correct?”

Silence but for the ever-sounding click-click-click that accompanied the former hero turned a tin solider in this place.

“My dear fellow, I don’t suppose we could take this conversation you clearly insist upon having to a less hostile environment?" RGB wheedled, doing his best to figure out a way to defuse the situation, so to speak. "I do think we may have had some sort of misunderstanding when first we met, and I can’t help but think that this has carried over after your…change in appearance, and the incidents that followed thereafter.”

“As before, you speak too much.” A voice of three in one spoke aloud at last. Another click, as metal creaked and moved, changing shape. “And I think this field is fitting, for someone like you.”

“How do you figure that?” RGB batted away another Doubt with his cane, his other hand’s fingers digging into the ground with unease.

The muzzle of the rifle lightly pressed between where RGB’s shoulder blades would be.

“Your doubts about me…your doubts about the ability of this place to be saved; despite trying again and again…you abandoned me. Left me to die, and become what I am now, after you killed the 'me' before that." Click harshly grated through the three-toned voice. “You’ve doubted all previous heroes brought to this cursed place, haven’t you? Doubted their skill to keep up with you in this madness. For your heroes to understand the rules without being told, unless pressed with a question for an answer." Click’s voice became rough and laced with fury underlying pain. “Doubted their ability to do what you were unable to accomplish, leading us all to be pawns in your attempt to make things right that you yourself couldn’t?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” RGB couldn’t quite hold his unease over being called out like that, but he figured some of the previous heroes, and now Click, had figured him out, and saw through his facade. Though RGB's thoughts were dashed when the muzzle of the rifle lowered a tad.

BANG!

A bullet whizzed through where his right thigh would be.

The cane fell with a muted thump to the grassy ground as RGB’s hand joined his other in the grass. He held himself up, arms trembling as the agony of both the bullet wounds traveled through him unseen, the second stringing pain traveling through his thigh. RGB’s other leg was as about to shift to balance on his hands and knees to not topple over, when Click moved.

Click-click-click.

RGB wordlessly winced when Click stepped on his wounded left leg, grinding the boot now a rifle butt down as the rifle made from Click's own arm moved with the lifting of said arm. RGB briefly found his voice. “I don’t suppose we could-"

BANG!

BANG!

Twice more the rifle went off, one shot going through RGB’s left shoulder blade, while the second shot flashed through the upper arm of his right.

RGB’s voice became wrought with static as he gracelessly collapsed to the grass, just barely turning his television head to the side to avoid having the glass crack upon impact. Seeing as it was grass, there was likely no need to worry, but RGB wasn't going to tempt fate further that dat.

The 'boot' moved off of RGB’s leg.

Click-click-click.

BANG!

Another shot, this time through RGB’s lower back. Then, the rifle roughly pressed to the back of his telly-head.

“If you want target, might I suggest the rather abundant population of Doubts that are surrounding us?” RGB wheezed out through the speaker, color dripping excessively down from his screen, several emotions overwhelming him all at once. RGB tensed when he felt the barrel of the rifle shift, almost thoughtfully, to one of RGB's vents. “Taking on those Doubts might be able to help with some of that built up anger of yours.” The rifle moved again to roughly press back against the back of RGB’s head. “Or you could do this, I suppose.”

“Like I said before-“ Clicking and metal sound overlapped before a hand reached around RGB's shoulder to seize the volume control on the front of his television screen. “You speak too much, but for what I have in mind-“ Click cranked up the volume to its max setting. “I want you to be heard. To scream.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. As much pain as you could cause me and the 'hurt' that it brings won't make me ‘scream.’" RGB commented, his voice now very loud. Conveniently, the Doubts didn’t like it and had moved a little way away from him and Click. “More of a static feedback, I suppose? I’m not really one for screaming and all that. I can certainly talk more if you’re keen on that conversation and are done with shooting me.” RGB’s arms ache as he braced himself when Click irritably used both his hand and the one currently used as a weapon to roughly flip RGB over onto his back. Staring up at Click, the blank-faced soldier appeared cold and unwavering. This gave RGB pause. What was he planning and-

“I want you to feel helpless when they come for you.” Click’s otherwise stationary head tilted to the side, the gold buttons on his solid jacket shimmering. It was if they, too, were eyes that were giving RGB their whole attention as Click's arm turned weapon lowered from the center of his screen to his chest, just below the bow tie.

“Who do you-“

BANG!

A bigger, more painful flare of agony tore through RGB’s chest, dragging out what he thought couldn’t be brought out so easily. A scream of agony, despite knowing no real harm was done to something not truly there, or what was already gone.

Click-click-click.

The muzzle of the rifle moved to the side as Click awkwardly knelt alongside RGB, body shifting metal in order to do so as Click gripped a handful of fabric to yank RGB partly upright off the grass. For whatever reason, Click was leaning over past his television-head, Click's chest level with RGB’s television screen versus the toy soldier’s head. Maybe he couldn’t bend that far with what his body now was?

RGB’s screen was fuzzing and static, the technicolor smile slipping to a thin line of pure agony. But through this, and the jostling via Click’s hand, RGB could have sworn the decorative detail across Click’s chest formed into three sharp smiles, the buttons gleaming on either side of these. It gave off the impression of three faces gleefully enjoying the clear pain RGB was experiencing despite the lack of blood from any of the bullet holes in RGB’s suit coat and pants legs.

“The Fears.” Click responded to RGB's earlier question as he jammed the rifle point-blank against RGB’s chest, just to the side of the hole the previous bullet had made. Click leaned in close, those buttons are like eyes, piercing RGB, the imagined smiles twisting up in sadistic pleasure. “Scream, and suffer, like you made me suffer when you abandoned me to my fate in this place of make believe.”

BANG!

White-hot agony tore through RGB this time, barely noticing that he’d been let go of as the back of his telly-head roughly hit the ground.

Some other gunshots went off, as well as a loud blast, but neither of these were aimed at RGB.

The Doubts?

RGB felt a hint of doubt but it wasn’t as strong as before.

“Good luck getting to your next victim.” Click called out from a further distance. “The Fears have come. They sense yours rising.”

Ricocheting bullets scattered around RGB, dispersing of the remainder of the nearest doubts.

RGB could feel the fear creeping in, drawing in the Fears, the jagged lines of their bodies drawing nearer through the grass.

“Should you survive this, know I will always be around to find you again.”

The click-click-click-ing grew quiet, until it could no longer be heard.

Click knew better than to test a large crowd of Fears, or even a Grief, should it show up, knowing well he didn't want to be caught and overwhelmed like when he'd been a hero, and been abandoned by the one who'd asked him if he wanted to be hero.

RGB’s limbs trembled, but he couldn’t find the strength to get up. He was frozen by pain and the growing fear.

Click-click-click.

Wait.

Why was he coming back?

Why did Click-

SPLASH!

RGB let out a garbled static gasp, fear skyrocketing as he felt the water get into his vents and inside his television head and-

STAB!

The Fear!

RGB weakly reached up to grapple at the head of the Fear but his hands lost their strength, thudding limply to the ground. Other Fears closed in, while the Click-click-click of Click’s retreat could be heard, the tin soldier agreeing to be a hero and being abandoned by RGB, now abandoning RGB had him, and however many other heroes suffered a similar fate.

Another Fear stabbed into RGB’s body; as he lost his vision of the world as his screen went out.

A long blank of nothingness hung around RGB until, with an unnecessary gasping breath, RGB woke up in a different area. An area close to where he went through a door to go recruit a new hero for a doomed narrative.

How…had he gotten here?

Hadn’t RGB been overwhelmed by the fears, after being shot many times by Click, and then splashed water as an effort to ensure RGB might be taken out?

RGB placed the back of his hand across the top of his screen to stare up at the sky overhead.

Well, that had been quite an awful experience, even if Click did have justification to use him as target practice.

The aches remain, as did the bullet holes in his clothing. RGB would have to have the amour repaired or replaced. But that would take more time to go back to the Market and only give Click a chance to find him again, to try and take his revenge for what RGB had done to him.

Standing stiffly, RGB brushed off his suit and pants as best he could, adjusted his boater hat, and picked up his cane that had miraculously appeared with him, instead of being left behind in the field.

A question of how would have to be left for another time.

As much as RGB didn’t think it would be best to go look for a hero while sporting bullet holes in his person, RGB couldn’t dally any longer. Surely there would be at least one person interested in being a hero who wouldn’t be put off by the sight?

As it turned out, RGB had found someone to be the hero of the story. He brought them through a brief gauntlet before the two managed to get a little breather in the House of Paint.

The hero did, that is.

While the hero slept, RGB was subjected to Madras’ concern as she took her price of two pints in return for replacing all the items RGB had lost when Click shot him in the chest, shattering the glass vials hidden beneath.

RGB, once the pints were taken and the vials were stored, went upstairs and sat down, Madras joining him briefly to lean against his back, arms around his shoulders.

They remained there in silence until RGB broke it.

“Click shot me. Multiple times., at that.”

Madras’ arms merely tightened around him, encouraging RGB to continue.

“I don’t think he is interested in talking to me.”

“Would you, in his position?” Madras asked.

“After what happened?” RGB was quiet. His head hung a little. “No.”

“I’ve told you before to not get attached.”

“I know.” RGB’s voice was quiet, despite not turning the volume of the television down. Right, when had that happened? Wasn't it at high volume before?

“You can’t help it.” Madras said.

It wasn’t a question.

“Does that make me a fool?”

“It makes you vulnerable.” Madras poked a finger through a hole in RGB’s suit-coat. “It makes you hesitate.”

RGB said nothing as he turned his head in the direction of the door.

“Don’t get attached.”

“It’s like you said.” RGB’s right hand reached up to rest over one of Madras’ hands. “I can’t help it.”

Madras’ eye settled on a mirror in the corner of the room and saw the self-deprecating multi-colored smile stretching across the lower third of RGB’s screen as his other hand gripped the cane tight.

No more words were spoken.

RGB wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, but when he woke, he led his newest hero from the House of Paint.

Not a day later, RGB lost them.

Click may have a point; whether or not RGB intended to, whether he left his hero behind intentionally, or did his best to keep his hero safe and well, something inevitably went wrong. This led to them being trapped within this world of make believe, resentful or hateful toward RGB, unable to go home even after the hero was no longer the hero of the story.

One of these times had to be different.

It had to be.

RGB couldn't keep doing this when he was unable to fully detach himself from the situation and he inevitably, in one way or another, became attached to the heroes he brought here.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Ive seen the f/o werewolves au and I absolutely love it. From the way it works to how they all handle their wolf side in different ways... I just find it so neat!

Callahan especially got my brain going 100 miles an hour, Just imagining him and the YN from your series dealing with it...

The days leading up to the first transformation where the animalistic-scary grows from "hot" to "concerning".

Him missing out on a date because, as fate would have it, happened in a full moon and then just... Ghosting, because he doesn't like the fact he can't control this quite yet.

He wanted to ravage YN before the transformation? absolutely. Make them his (mate)? Certainly. But this is beyond him. He can't control himself, just the sound of YN's voice from when they showed up at his doorstep (one last check. Giving him the benefit of the doubt.) is enough to send him into a bit of a frenzy, and he hates it.

And then one day YN returns to their dorm to find this big, weirdly wolf-like, old dog (if the grey muzzle is any indication) at their door. One that's weirdly docile and (even more surprisingly) friendly with them, despite the fact they never saw this dog in their life.

The dog approaches, carefully sniffing their hand, before pressing the top of its head against the palm. Still a bit weirded out, YN gives the animal a few tentative scratches and pets, which the dog seems to like.

(Mate is caring for him after so long after all...)

And just that presence, that care, that absolute freedom to be at peace with the one the two of them love is enough to bring the two consciousness together for long enough of a moment for Callahan to detransform.

Thankfully the shock of petting a naked Callahan (clothes having bursted out from the initial transformation) sent YN reeling back, which ended up reverting him back into a wolf. Wouldn't do to have that image floating around the college forums after all.

YN was able to guide Callahowl inside to wait out the moon. But in the morning, they would talk, as they made sure to tell the dog. Whether he could fully understand them or not was still up to debate, but at least he seemed to understand their tone and looked a bit chastised.

For the all of five minutes before YN relented and began to pet him again, cursing whatever entity that ruled their universe and made Callahowl such a cute dog.

FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND FRIEND

I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN I SAW THIS IN THE MORNING. I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO ANSWER IN KIND.

First of all I am s o so jazzed to see that you, too, are mad about Werewolf!Callahan like me!! XDD And 'Callahowl'???? OMG perfect XDDD Second of all-

YOUR FIC HERE. IT IS MAKING ME INSANE. Y/N being affectionate with this wolfie that loves her even though they have a sort of temperamental relationship when he's human?? 'Mate is caring for him after so long after all...'- this this this!!! Because like??- thats Aaron and Y/N loves Aaron. They do. But usually they cant show him that, because he's an ass and it would kill them- and he cant show it to them either because, again, he's a total ass-- but in this form??? His underlying desire for affection from them (His mate!! <3) comes out and Y/N doesn't have to worry about teasing (or worse) ^^

I also love your detail that his muzzle is lighter to show his age!!

Thank you so so much for sharing this!!!!!!!! ^^ I wanna write for Callahowl so so bad and one day I will XD I swear XD For now though here are some imagines for you, too!! In these, Y/N is actually his student but the relationship is basically the same apart from that.

Werewolf!Professor Aaron Callahan x Fem!Student!Reader || Imagines

Plot: Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon.

Warnings: There are smut imagines at the end that involve male masturbation topics as well as sex, and breeding ref's.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon appearing in class dishevelled. His short hair unbrushed and ruffled like he's been constantly running his fingers through it, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, his jacket clenched at his side in his hand instead of on like it just got way too hot despite it being the middle of November, his glasses constantly crooked from rubbing his wild eyes.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon only being calm when its just the two of you. When, after class, you stay back to check on him in the office. He slumps on the corner of his desk and watches you with a certain warmth you've never seen on him before. You fix his glasses and his hair, and his eyes fall shut at the feeling for half a moment before he can pull himself together. You offer him his blazer before you leave, and he takes it simply because you offered it, wanting to hold onto you in any way he can, but only holding it in his hands as you leave instead of pulling it on.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon getting snippier and snippier with students, breathing heavily through his nose and rolling his eyes up to the sky and looking dangerously close to throwing things- but not to you. Not towards his mate (Not that you know you're that).

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon making a guy in your class with you, who was arguing con to your pro in a hypothetical court topic feel dumb and mortified in front of the whole class. He told the guy to oppose you (Its a regular law class activity!) but it turns out to be too much for him- he cant handle it. He has to stick up for you, protect you. And its nasty, and unfair, and awful, and everyone in the room feels the aftershock of it. Luckily, he's still him enough to brush it off and move on, but you're looking at him like he's insane the rest of the class and he knows he fucked up.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon making up excuses why he's acting the way he is and why he keeps cancelling on you and they just keep getting worse. He's a smart guy, he's actually scary he's so smart, but now he's acting like an idiot and you're actually getting kindof concerned. You ask him, genuinely, if he's okay?

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon looking up and to the door any time you walk through it, looking over at you like he knew it was you who came in even if its too loud in the room for him to have heard the door even open and he had no way of knowing when you were going to get there. Because he's so tuned in to your scent, and his nose is so sensitive this time of month.

~ Hornycanons from here ~

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon getting hornier the closer his transformation closes in on him.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon having to cover his mouth with his hand tight and hang up quick when you call because the bulge in his pants grew at record speed hearing you and he's going to moan if he stays; the sweet sound of your voice making him painfully turned on.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon having to jerk off under his desk during lunch. You stay back to check on him, he takes his blazer from you, and then he sits down slowly and takes out his red headed, leaking cock to quickly pump one out; riding the high or your lingering scent and your voice in his head and the feel of your fingers on his hair just before.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon having to excuse himself to go to the bathroom more often just in order to jerk off and keep his shit together.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon who will fuck all night if you come to stay over. He'll fuck you against the wall when you come in, he'll fuck you on the couch, he'll fuck you all night in bed. He tries to bang it out, make the rest of his week easier, but thats not how it works.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon who has to fight himself not to fucking cum in you, goddamnit. He doesn't want kids, he tells himself over and over. He doesn't want kids, he doesn't want kids. But the wolf in him desperately wants to fill you with pups. Luckily Cal's just strong enough to control that. Just.

Werewolf!Callahan in the days leading up to the full moon who is just a mess, and completely enamoured with you, and desperately wanting to hide it from you.

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

ttwt episode 9

“Last time, on Total Takes World Tour: we laughed, we ate, we danced, and some of us even lost in beautiful Quebec. Bonnie accepted their fate as the team’s emotional support dog, while both Max and Kelly grew more suspicious of a certain environmentalist. Julia went ham on Team Yaoi in hopes of getting Patrick eliminated, but fell short when the challenge turned out to be a reward one, saving him another seat aboard the S.S. Drama. Who will be electrocuted this time? Will Phillip ever be able to absorb the moon’s power? Stay tuned to find out right here, on Total Takes: World Tour!”

The galley is full but slow this morning, everyone trudging along to help themselves to another inedible meal before the plane’s descent. The metal hull itself creaks and groans, sending a chill up everyone's spine.

“I wonder what torture we have in store for us today,” Max comments sarcastically, pushing around the soggy toast on his tray. 

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, heh,” Phillip responds. “I’ve been working on my... abilities. Be warned...”

Staci’s head pokes out from around the corner. “Phillip, you left your drawings in the confessional again!” she holds up a few crude drawings of werewolves staring forlornly off into the distance. 

The entire cabin bursts into strained laughter and Phillip sulks. Max ignores him. Bonnie grumbles and faceplants into the table. 

---

First class is tense, but this time, it’s not the usual suspects. 

Ass and Courtney are rather… civil this morning, going about their daily tasks without a peep from either of them. Julia, on the other hand, is pacing the entire length of the cabin, grumbling and cursing to herself, only stopping to throw darts at a picture of Patrick’s face taped to one of the seats. 

Mal is smacking gum loudly, typing on her phone and ignoring the darts whizzing past her head. 

“Stupid, stupid…” Julia grumbles, tossing another projectile. It hits Mal in the thigh. She has no reaction as she scrolls. 

“We need to think ahead,” the blonde insists, slamming her fist to her hand. “Where’s our next challenge going to be?”

“An island. Tropical,” Mal says, not bothering to look up from her phone. “In about… sixteen minutes.”

Julia blinks, then looks out the window over the great expanse of ocean. She turns back with a perplexed expression while Ass raises an eyebrow from across the cabin. “What? How would you even know that?”

Courtney’s eyes widen. “Don’t-!”

“May I present to you-” Mal says, standing and rushing across the cabin. She pulls down a screen map of the world with numerous pins in it. “Mal’s 100% full-proof Total Drama Predictinator!”

Ass and Julia stare. Courtney smacks their forehead. 

“Every season, I create a highly complex AI program that predicts each location, challenge, and eliminations with startling accuracy,” Mal says, pacing between the ends of the map. She speaks matter-of-factly. “According to my findings, we’ll be on an island in the Atlantic ocean.”

The intercom crackles to life. “Wouldn’t be so sure about that, Einstein!” Chris says merrily. “We’ll be landing in Waterloo, Belgium, in-”

The plane suddenly lurches, sending all unbuckled passengers flying. A sputtering, mechanical screech forces everyone to cover their ears and look around at the metal beast nervously. 

“Uh, Chris, you might wanna take a look at this,” Chef says. The intercom then dies and the lights in the plane flicker out seconds before it begins plummeting. 

“Brace yourselves!” Courtney yells. “Assume your positions!”

“Um…” Julia shouts, looking between Ass and Mal as they stare nervously. “We didn’t actually read your guide!”

“WHAT! I spent all night writing- AHHHH!”

The plane plunges, growing closer and closer to the ocean. 

---

Economy has all but buckled in, ducking and covering their heads as luggage and rats fly around the cabin. A loud siren begins to blare, forcing everyone to plug their ears. 

“I can’t die here!” Bonnie yells, pleading with the universe. “Anywhere but here!”

Phillip screams in terror, his high-pitched shrieks out matching the siren in volume. Staci grits their teeth and Kelly, Max, and Bonnie lean away. Patrick rocks back and forth in his seat. 

Only Albert seems unbothered, still flipping through his book without a midst of panic about him. 

---

ALBERT: “What? Everyone was too preoccupied crying for mommy to notice me. What does sudden and terrible death matter, anyway?”

---

At the very last second, the plane deploys a few massive parachutes, and lands softly on the beaches of an island. 

Mal looks out the economy window. “See? Island!”

Julia’s jaw drops. 

---

JULIA: “Okay, she may be crazy- like, class A crazy, nuttier than a nutbar dipped in peanut sauce nutty- but she isn’t stupid. I just have to find a way to use this to my advantage…”

---

The teens uneasily exit the plane, groaning and holding their heads. Most of them are a sickly shade of green, and even Chris looks tussled. 

“That was a nasty trick you pulled,” Courtney says, pointing an accusing finger at Chris and wheezing. “You could’ve killed us!”

“Hey, man, this one wasn’t me,”

Chef walks out from behind the plane, holding a wrench that’s bent in all kinds of wrong ways. He shakes his head. “It’s not looking too good,” he says. “We’re gonna need someone qualified to handle this.”

Chris shudders. 

“So, it’s fixable?” Max asks, crossing his arms. “You guys just don’t want to pay for it?”

“Hey! We’re on a budget!” The host snaps. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out- I’ll call the producers. In the meantime, uh… I guess we’ll do our challenge here. Wherever this is.”

The teams look around the island, taking note of the sandy beaches and lush vegetation. 

“St. Helena,” Mal comments. “We’re off the coast of South Africa, east of Rio de Janeiro. Coordinates 15° 58′ 0″ S, 5° 42′ 0″ W.”

Everyone turns to her, blinking. 

“Oh, great. She’s doxxing the island now!” Ass shouts. Julia shoves a finger to their face and approaches Mal cautiously, smiling widely. 

“Mal,”

“Hm?” the brunette asks, back on her phone. 

“Do you think your… um, geographical knowledge might actually help us?”

“Duh,” she scoffs. “But it’s not like anyone ever asked me!”

Julia grits her teeth and smiles wider. “Well, we didn’t know. Think you could help the team this time?”

Mal thinks for a moment, then shrugs. 

---

MAL: “What? I’m not stupid. I know a lot of things besides fandom and phones- I know where all the challenges are going to be, I know that Bonnie still keeps a picture of Caesar with them, I know Frollo is in the cargo hold-” she sighs. “You know, fandom bloggers really are the most oppressed people in society. I-”

The camera goes static. 

---

Chris stands before the three remaining teams as they organize themselves across from each other on a grassy field. The host himself is on the phone, grumbling to himself. 

“Yes, well, the hot tub was necessary, so- hello? HELLO?” he sighs, tossing the phone behind him. It hits an intern in the head and they collapse. The teams look between each other awkwardly. 

“Looks like we’re on our own. Luckily, due to a quick wiki search- we can stay on theme! Welcome to St. Helena- island in the middle of nowhere. Best known for being Napoleon’s final resting place after he was exiled here way-back-when. Since we were originally going to Waterloo, we can just do the same challenge here. You kids will be recreating the historic battle that sealed Bonaparte’s fate. Team Friendship-”

The aforementioned look up. 

“You’ll be playing the part of the French army. AKA, the LOSERS!” he chuckles. “Team Yaoi, you’ll be the Prussians, and Team Mojo, you’re the British.”

The respective teams watch as Chef begins rolling out cannons. Courtney raises an eyebrow. “What exactly is our angle here?”

“Um… don’t get blown to smithereens by a cannon?” Chris chuckles. “I was kinda just hoping you guys would get your hands on weaponry and go crazy.”

“You’re letting us have real weapons?” Phillip asks, eyes widening. He grins maliciously. 

---

PHILLIP: “I believe I’m destined to kill a man. Basically it’s like, my destiny and stuff, and this show seems like my best shot. Whoever I attack should thank me- dying in combat is the highest honor a man can achieve!”

---

“Historically accurate weapons... mostly!” Chris corrects. “Last team standing wins, yadda yadda… hey Chef, we still have that inflatable pool, right?”

Chef nods. 

“Sweet! See you all in a few,”

Staci sighs as she watches the two walk off. Turning back to the team, she crosses their arms. “We need a plan,”

“You think?” Bonnie asks, staring at the ginormous canon. 

“I do, in fact!” she beams. The goth rolls their eyes. “Now, I’ve read about this before… it’s been a while, but I think I remember enough to have us not obliterated instantly. First, we’ll need a stand-in Napoleon,”

Phillip’s hand shoots up. “Ooh, me! Pick me!” he then coughs and artificially lowers his voice. “I mean… or whatever.”

Staci paces back and forth. “It’s gotta be someone smart…”

Phillip trails behind them, casually whistling. 

“Competent. Organized!”

He clears his throat and begins casually leafing through his journal, mumbling his poetry under his breath. 

She looks between the group. “How about… Max?”

“WHAT?” Phillip and Max chime in unison. 

Bonnie raises an eyebrow. “You know… I could see it,”

“It’s because of my height, isn’t it?” he lowers his eyes. They shrug. 

Staci interjects. “No, no! You’re… I mean, you’re a natural leader! You’re smart! And romantic!”

Phillip seizes. “What? Napoleon wasn’t a romantic, he was like, a military guy!”

“But he was really into romance novels,” Staci says. “I used to be muts with someone who kinned him, but then there was a bunch of callouts for people who kinned real life people, so I had to softblock them and they sent a death threat to my workplace. But it’s all good now. Anyway…”

---

PHILLIP: “I am a lot of things, but I am NOT a romantic! I mean, I’m a chick magnet, sure, but I don’t let the ladies lead me astray. It wouldn’t be very sigma of me. I’m fine with being second in command, then,”

---

“All in favor of Max?”

“Wait!” he snaps. 

Everyone raises their hands and Max sighs, defeated. 

---

Julia watches the teams divulge and turns back to hers. “Alright. Game plan, anyone?”

“Don’t get blown up,” Ass comments dryly. They are ignored. 

“Mal? Anything?” the blonde asks. 

She shrugs. “Eh, whatever you guys think. I’m busy- #saveourshow is trending on Twitter, and-”

Julia nabs the phone out of her hands and holds it above her head. Mal pouts. “FINE! We should like… hm…” the brunette scans the field. “I guess we should attack Team Mojo first. We outnumber them, and they really only have the one decent player. Everyone’s been calling them “Team Losers- and Michela” on Tumblr, and it-”

“I am down for that!” Julia interrupts, tossing Mal back her phone like it’s a dog treat. “Team Mojo it is. Courtney, Ass, defend our ground. Mal and I have this covered.”

Courtney and Ass both raise a cautious eyebrow and turn to each other slightly. 

---

COURTNEY: “Is it just me, or are those two getting awfully chummy lately?”

ASS: “Definitely not just you. Something’s up- I smell an alliance,”

---

Patrick plays with the cannon while Michela and Albert try to discuss their angle. He chuckles as he loads the barrel full of heavy projectiles and aims it at Team Friendship. 

“Okay, if we just focus on defense, maybe we can scrape by,” Michela ponders, pacing back and forth. “But we only have the one cannon, and we’re surely going to be everyone’s first target…”

“Maybe we should offer them the princess as a sacrifice,” Albert mutters, gesturing back to Patrick as he lights the fuse. “I’m sure Team Yaoi would ignore us altogether if we let them chew on him for a while.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, cupcake?” Patrick snaps, glaring. 

“You can’t be serious- Julia’s been trying to get you eliminated for days now,” Albert says, waving at Team Yaoi. “And it looks like your odds aren’t good today.”

He scoffs. “As if I’d let some girl-” 

A sudden cannonball flies through the air, whacking Patrick in the back and sending him flying forward with a long shriek. Julia cheers from afar. Michela massages her temples. 

---

Phillip scans the teams, looking between them for weaknesses. 

---

PHILLIP: “Trying to choose a target is pretty hard. Team Yaoi is pretty scary… I mean, lame! I wouldn’t wanna waste my ammo on them,”

---

Staci and Bonnie shove the cannon around, aiming it at Team Yaoi. “Ready?” Max yells. “Fire!”

Kelly lights the fuse and the team ducks, covering their ears, waiting for… nothing. The flame disappears in the breeze, leaving their cannon unfired. 

“Okay, let’s try this again,” Max sighs, lighting another match. “Ready? Fire!”

Again, the breeze blows it away. He grumbles to himself. 

“Maybe we should aim in a different direction,” Staci says. “Team Mojo-”

“Out of the question,” Max snaps.

Bonnie sighs. “You and your moral high ground with that girl. Listen, if we aim for Albert…”

After a long, drawn out silence, he relents. “Fine. But be careful!”

Just as Patrick peels himself off the ground, another cannonball- this time from Team Friendship- hits him in the gut. Max shouts “Damn it!” from afar. 

Albert smirks as he lights the cannon and fires in Team Yaoi’s general direction. “Duck!” Ass shouts, pulling Courtney to the grass as the ball flies overhead. 

The two wait for it to pass, but just as Courtney begins to stand, Ass pulls them back down. “We should talk,”

“About?”

Ass nods in Julia and Mal’s direction as they load the cannon for another shot at Patrick. 

“If they team, one of us is next. And if Mal makes it further in this game than me, I’ll kill myself,” Ass snaps. “As much as I hate to say it, if we wanna stay, we’re going to have to work together.”

Courtney thinks for a moment, and then grins. “Anything to take her down,”

The two shake hands with equally big smiles and then rise just as Julia fires another cannonball at Patrick, nailing him in the back of his knees. He shrieks again and she laughs. 

A shot from Team Friendship flies past them, narrowly missing Mal’s head as she taps on her phone, ignoring the commotion around her. She doesn’t even flinch. 

“Man, that chick is crazy,” Julia grumbles, loading the cannon for another round. 

“Patrick, GET UP!” Michela shouts. “This isn't the time for napping!”

Patrick, face-down in the grass, groans to himself. It takes a few seconds for him to peel his body off the ground, spitting out a mouthful of dirt as his bruised and battered form limps back to the team. 

“Call me crazy, but… I think Julia might be mad at me,” he says to Albert. The latter rolls his eyes. 

“Well, you’d better patch things up, cause we’re getting wailed on over here,” Michela snaps as another shot from Team Friendship narrowly misses Albert. A faint dinging catches their attention and the team grumbles.

Patrick sighs. “I miss the way, Julie said hello- by punching me, in the stomach,” 

“I miss the nights, when she didn’t pick up the phone,” he continues.

“Oh, oh,” Michela and Albert chime in as another cannonball flies overhead.

“Cause other times, she’d wreak havoc”

Patrick places a hand over his heart and gestures towards Team Yaoi. Julie watches him, mortified, while the rest of the team looks between each other awkwardly from behind her. 

“Oh, Julie, oh Julie, I, I miss you so… Oh my Julie, my violent Julie, why’d I ever let you go?”

“I dumped YOU!”

“I miss her smile, and the tables that she threw- at me, when she was moody-”

“Your fault!”

“Oh, I miss the way, we’d never seem to agree,”

“Oh, oh,”

“Cause arguing, always brought out her beauty,” he continues, ducking another round of shots from Team Yaoi. “Oh, Julie, oh, Julie, I, I miss you so… Oh, my Julie, my scary Julie, why’d I ever let you go? Why’d I ever let you go?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Julia says. “Okay, number one goal- Team Mojo has GOT to go!”

Ass ducks a cannonball from Team Friendship. “No offense, but we’re kinda getting pummeled out here- Team Losers is the least of our concern!”

“Team Losers and Michela,” Mal says, matter-of-factly. Ass grits their teeth. 

“They have a zero-sum chance of winning. This is the smartest move. I need him GONE!”

Courtney and Ass make nervous eye contact, but relent. 

---

Phillip watches as Team Friendship misses another shot at Team Mojo. 

“They move too fast,” Bonnie huffs, wiping the sweat off their forehead as they move the cannon back around to Team Yaoi. “We’re never gonna hit anyone at this rate.”

“Hey, it’s not so bad! We got Patrick a few times!” Kelly smiles, putting a hand on their shoulder. 

“...Which makes no difference at all, since he has the relevance of a sack of potatoes,” Max snaps. “Let’s just focus on Team Yaoi- they’re not even looking at us now.”

Phillip nods, pulling out his notebook to scribble something down. 

---

PHILLIP: “You know, I’m actually glad I didn’t get to be Napoleon. Now I can observe the teams and mark my target!"

---

“Faster! We need more ammo!” Julia shouts, commanding her troops in a fitting military fashion. “Hurry up!”

“We’re trying!” Ass snaps, then turns to Mal as she ignores the challenge altogether. “Maybe if SOMEONE was helping, we’d be going faster!”

“Mal has already helped enough. You two, on the other hand, could stand to pick up some slack!”

Ass and Courtney make eye contact, but turn back just in time to see a cannonball flying at them. “DUCK!”

The three drop to the ground and cover their heads as the projectile lands behind them with a thud. Mal remains none the wiser. 

“Damn! Missed again!” Bonnie huffs. “This thing is killing me!”

Phillip chuckles maliciously. “Not yet…”

They glare at him and he sighs and walks away.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Kelly puts a hand on their shoulder. “At the very least, none of our team has been hurt yet!”

---

PHILLIP: “Perhaps I’ve been looking in the wrong directions… maybe my true target has been here all along- the weak must perish!” he chuckles to himself and then screams at a spider in the booth.

---

“You’re not loading the cannon fast enough,” Max says. “Or moving it, or… anything. We need to be faster!”

“We’re going as fast as we can!” Staci insists. 

The team bursts into shouting, bickering and pointing fingers at each other. As they’re distracted, Phillip puts his full weight into turning the cannon around and facing it in Kelly’s direction as they try to mediate. 

“Here we go…” he grins, lighting the fuse. 

“And if YOU hadn’t been yelling, maybe we could’ve focused and gone faster!” Staci shouts, jabbing a finger in Max’s face. He swats their hand away and the two begin slap-fighting. 

Kelly gasps and rushes in to pull them apart, moving out of aim just in time- the cannon fires, sending a ball straight past Team Friendship, and right into Team Mojo’s barrel. 

“That’s not good,” Michela says, seconds before ducking as their cannon explodes. 

Team Friendship stops shouting and turns to the commotion, then to Phillip. 

“Holy…” Bonnie mumbles. “That’ll do it.”

---

As Julia, Ass, and Courtney take their hands off their ears and rise from the ground, they stare in bewilderment at the shredded remains of Mojo’s cannon. 

“So… now what?” Courtney asks. 

Before Julia can respond, however, a rain of cannonballs from Team Friendship showers them. The teens drop to the ground and cover themselves, bracing for the worst, but the balls simply bounce off them. 

Ass stares at one of the cannonballs, then lightly kicks it. It rolls away. “Huh. Imagine that,”

“They’re FOAM?” Phillip shouts in bewilderment from across the field. 

Chris walks back onto the field, holding a coconut drink with a tiny ornamental umbrella in it. He takes a long sip. “You guys done yet?”

“They’ve been foam this WHOLE TIME?” Bonnie shouts. 

“Uh, duh! Can you imagine the lawsuits?” the host scoffs. “The canons are real, though- and they pack a real punch!”

“But- what about Patrick?” Michela asks, pointing to her bruised and battered teammate. 

Chris shrugs. “Soft skin? Anyway… looks like Team Friendship has the most players standing, meaning they win the challenge!”

“What? None of us even got hurt!” Ass snaps. They are ignored. 

“And looks like Team Mojo took the hardest hit, soooo… see you guys tonight!” he chuckles, walking off. 

Michela and Albert look down at Patrick while Julia cheers and does a little dance around Mal. "Gooooooodbye, Patrick!" she hollers.

---

JULIA: "Finally- with that twit gone, I can focus on the game! Maybe having Mal around isn't so bad after all..."

---

“Did everyone have fun today? Yes? No?” Chris asks, looking between the three. Michela rolls her eyes. Albert turns a page in his book. “Anyway- it’s anyone’s game today! Three players left, who will lose, who will lose? It’s-”

“Just kick him off already!” Michela snaps. 

Chris huffs. “Geez, FINE! Patrick, you’ve been eliminated. See ya on the flip side, pal!”

Patrick whines and gets up, holding an ice pack to his head. He takes the parachute and jumps from the plane, landing face-first in the sand below. 

“You know, I usually hate out ground landings, but that one’s okay by me,” Chris says, peering out the door. “Who will be battered next time? Will we ever get off this island? Find out here, on Total Takes: World Tour!”

[freyyzu]

POST-BIRTHDAY OUTINGS

in which you take a walk to get away from your thoughts, only for the source of your sleeplessness to show up at your doorstep.

a/n; happy birthday solomon!

you’re finding it difficult to go to sleep tonight. it’s nothing out of the ordinary, there were many nights like this where you had trouble closing your eyes. studying for exams, mammon crawling into your bed, late game nights with levi… the list goes on. toady’s sleeplessness though was caused by a different reason.

“you’re special to me.” the way your name left his lips still rings clear as day in your ears. “you add the color to my world.”

there were a lot of things he had said to you earlier that day. about how he wants to become family, how the memories of you stand out clearer than all the rest, but nothing stuck out to you more than that. simply just recalling his words is enough to make you feel bashful.

resigning to your fate of not being able to sleep tonight you opt for a stroll around the house of lamentation. some fresh air would do you some good, and the chances of running into any of the brothers outside at this hour were low.

the chance of running into one of the brothers were low, and the chances to run into the person you were just thinking about was lower. lower, but never zero.

you nearly jump out of your skin when you open the front doors only to be greeted with solomon’s equally as shocked expression staring back at you. he’s wearing the same clothes as during the day, so you suspect that he hadn’t even tried to go to sleep yet.

“solomon,” you gasp, moseying out the door and silently shutting it behind you. “what are you doing here?”

he takes a step back to give you space and quickly surveys your choice of clothing up and down. “it seems like we’re in the same position.” you smile, nodding at his observation as calmly as you can despite the fact that you can hear your heart beat in your ears a mile a second. “i was going to invite you for a walk in case you were still awake. I’m glad you are.” he holds his hand out to you, and with little reluctance, you take it.

“i had the same idea.”

“of inviting me on a walk?” he teases.

“well,” you chuckle. “the walk part. why didn’t you just text me?”

he begins the walk, guiding you along to the backyard. “i wanted to see your face as soon as possible. and if you were asleep then, well, i would have just went home.” he looks back for a second, and you can see his smile widen, just a bit. “i’m glad you were awake.”

this hadn’t been the change of plans that you would have thought to happen. at worst you expected someone to come into your room only to realize you were gone and cause a fuss. that would have been better than what was happening now. as happy as you are for seeing solomon’s face, he was also the reason you couldn’t sleep in the first place. “you know,” you sigh, “you’re the reason i’m up right now.”

his steps slow down enough for you to catch up. “oh?”

using your free hand to fiddle with the cloth of your sleepwear the both of you eventually come to a stop near one of the grass archs.

you’re not sure where to begin with telling him that you’ve been thinking back on his words ever since the party ended. how you wanted to stay behind at purgatory hall until tomorrow and spend the night with him, talking late into the evening.

thankfully, you don’t have to. he’ll do it for you.

solomon takes one step close, and then tilts his head to meet with your downward gaze. “do you want to run away?”

“huh?” your head shoots up and you near make contact with his chin.

he laughs good heartedly, no doubt getting a kick from your expression. “not actually run away, of course. but we can go somewhere if you’d like. i’m here because i wanted to spend more time with you. this would just be the perfect excuse to go somewhere.”

ah, so that’s what he meant. you try your best to stifle your laughter, it’s just like him to say something like ‘do you want to run away?’ to give you a spook. “alright,” you eventually nod. lucifer would probably scold you for it come morning, but you could deal with that when the situation presents itself. “where do you have in mind?”

“well,” a mischievous glint passes through his eyes. the next thing you know, he’s let go of your hand and your feet are no longer touching the ground. “the streets of the devildom are especially beautiful during winter time. what do you say we go enjoy the view?”

the streets of the devildom are prettier during winter time. with the holidays right around the corner there are more lights than usual, decorations adorn the streets and more people laughing as they spend time with their loved ones.

you suppose you were in the same boat as them right now.

your grip tightens around his neck, and he whispers, “don’t worry, i won’t let you fall.”

well, that’s what he thinks.

you’ve already fallen more than you could’ve ever hoped to imagine.

[rhythmantics]

Oh! God I can’t believe it never hit me to ask this til now lol but what do you think Xander and Karen’s relationship looked like? How do you think they got together?

warnings for the fact that xander is a horrible scumbag and a mentally ill, child-abused wretch. so. usual warnings for that apply.

so a couple things to note; the first is that karen is literally xander's employee - he's the lab's associate director, she's just a low-rank gene sequencer. Second thing to note is that although he's 29 and she's 34, according to the prima guide, xander was originally conceived of as being 35, so I think karen was intended to be younger than him (even if only by a year).

Either way, she's pretty demonstrably weak-willed (betrays alex after a beating, and is persuaded by xander to risk her life to steal something from the lab for him). I don't think she's a bad person; in fact, i think she is a very nice, normal person (like let's be totally real, which one of us would be able to stand up to BW), which makes her ultimate fate at Alex's hands both a huge tragedy and a major reminder that neither Alex nor Xander are good people. I do NOT think it's right to blame Dana's involvement at Xander's behest on him - they are equals in that partnership, more or less - but I DO think some of the blame for Karen's death falls on Xander's shoulders. And Alex's.

In short, Xander takes advantage of her. Given his history with his mother (Ms. "worse than foster care" Mercer), and his suite of Emotional Issues besides, I have a very hard time imagining him in a relationship of equals. And they aren't equal - she's not as smart as him, literally his employee, and implied to be more naïve and trusting. He absolutely seduced her, and there's no way he's not letting the implicit threat of her career hang over her.

They definitely don't live together. We know they have their own separate places, but it's likely Xander had 0 intention of ever living with her, because the entire living room space in his apartment is his office. Given that the Point of Karen's character is that she's SUPER NORMAL, any future where they wind up serious together is one where she'd desire, you know, an actual living room. An entertainment center. You can probably already imagine about how well that would go over with Xander, who's spent his whole life compromising, and sees his new job/income/lifestyle as freedom.

That said, there is no overt abuse in their relationship. Xander has an Image, he has Standards, he hates his mother so much that he strives to be her opposite as much as possible. He would never raise a hand to Karen, but you don't need to be violent to exert control on a partner. I imagine he uses more subtle tactics. The fact that he's so beloved around his office that people would take his word over hers. The fact that he can and will use his horrific backstory to guilt-trip and justify any poor behavior toward her. The fact that he's clever enough and a good enough actor to - quite literally - gaslight. So on.

I think Karen actually thought she was very close to him, very intimate. He'd have framed his usage of his backstory as "opening up," or vulnerability, even though he's very cognizantly using it to make her feel like she was special, was fixing him. He'd put off talks of marriage or cohabitation with excuses of "not being ready" and "needing more time to learn how to trust people" while cognizant that he was never planning to let her move in, never. In many ways, he's the perfect partner, never forgetting a birthday or anniversary, always taking her out to nice places and getting her the things she wants/saying what she wants to hear, while ensuring he always has a leash on her and an exit strategy planned.

And the thing about Xander I find kind of fascinating is that he's motivated by contradictory forces. Xander is NOT a ~dark and twisted cycle path~ with no empathy or capacity to care for others; rather, he's someone with Severe PTSD who was literally in a survival situation for basically his entire life, with no trustworthy caregivers and practically 0 emotional nurturing.

It's not that he only sees her as a sex object - rather, Xander has a deep, deep craving for love and intimacy, and then screws himself over in that regard, because he doesn't feel "safe" if he isn't in total control, and he feels compelled to abandon other people before they can hurt him by abandoning him.

All relationships to him - even for his sister, who is "the only person he can trust" according to his prima bio (karen doesnt even make that list lol) - are functionally over before they begin. He expects the worst out of people - that they are liars, betrayers, cheaters, abandoners, insensitive, ignorant, and cruel - and then deliberately pushes the people around him to prove him right. Then he burns bridges, holds grudges, resents people. In Karen's case, he'll do things like deliberately not mention his birthday, because he's testing to see if she'll even care to remember (and if she doesn't, well, look at how cruel and insensitive she is, he was right to think that about her). If she does remember, he'll judge her on the quality of the gift she gets him compared to what he gets her (he's constantly psychoanalyzing and compiling mental dossiers on the people around him in case he needs to retaliate, which has the side effect of making him a REALLY GOOD GIFT-GIVER). And if it doesn't measure up (and it won't, because he doesn't actually open up to people, so how are they supposed to know what he wants), then that's "proof" that she's a dumb little sheeple, who doesn't care about anyone but herself, etc. etc.

But the core of this kind of resentment and hypercriticality is fundamentally that he craves acknowledgement, affection, validation, and emotional nurturing, things that he was deprived of growing up. The fact that he's so manipulative actually contributes to his despair; he hates that people fall for it, that (in his eyes) "they only see what they WANT to see," that he can ruin lives and destroy careers just by putting on a fake smile or pantomiming being hurt. It drives him crazy that he can get away with it.

At his core, Xander hates himself. Ten years of foster care and ten more years of child abuse have completely fucked up his internal self-image; he fundamentally conceives of himself as a worthless piece of trash that can easily be discarded as soon as anyone sees "the truth" (like he was in foster care), and/or as a weak, pathetic, inherently unlovable target and victim (as he was living with his mother). That's why he has to constantly self-aggrandize, say things like "I'm always right," train his body, avoid drugs and alcohol, put others down - he's constantly teetering on the edge of despair, a wounded animal still actively bleeding from welts that won't heal, in a world that has taught him that other people will hurt him. It's also why he goes Beast Mode on even minor perceived threats to his intellect or competence - what other people might see as a harmless jab, he perceives as a mortal threat. And given the fragility of his emotional state, it very well might be!

So what he gets out of Karen isn't pure physical gratification (although there is that). It's oddly contradictory, but to him, Karen is a symbol of "making it" - she's a hot young blonde with a PhD and a stable job, whom he can easily control (and is thus "safe"), who is madly in love with him. On the other hand, it's all fake, she doesn't actually care about him, just the fake persona he adopts toward her, NOBODY will ever actually care about him, EVERYONE sucks and he HATES THEM ALL. It's practically a form of self-harm.

So I don't think he's ever outwardly done anything to harm Karen. In fact, I think Karen thought she had, like, the PERFECT boyfriend, if only he was more open to the idea of moving in and getting married (but it's okay, she's fixing him). But I do think it was always 🤏 this close to BECOMING toxic and horrible, and Karen never had any clue.

TL;DR: Xander has many Big Feelings and most of them are hatred

[musings-from-an-elder-goth]

Every October from 1966 until 2020, "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" etched itself into across the collective consciousness of young darklings with it's once a year broadcast on network television. (To watch it, click on the above link & jump to 5:45 on the timeline.) The importance of "The Great Pumpkin" to me and my fellows, regardless darkling or normie, cannot be overstated. Elementary school children simply did not miss "The Great Pumpkin." However, it lost much of it's 'weight,' for lack of a better term, once VCR's became available. Prior to those wondrous devices, you literally only had one chance per year to watch "The Great Pumpkin" - that's it. To be a kid & miss "The Great Pumpkin" airing was akin to Linus fainting and missing the arrival of The Great Pumpkin, himself. I recall hearing the tragic tale of one kid on the school bus who had missed the airing the previous night as his house had lost power & we all sat in silent horror at this revelation - a fate worse than death or dentist visit.

Of course, me being me, I had already somewhat prepared for such an unthinkable eventuality by having acquired a copy of the 1967 book adaptation of "The Great Pumpkin." In the 70's, my folks choose to live in the boonies, so losing power for no reason was something that could happen. Fortunately, I never did have to cower in a dark corner, clutching my well worn book copy, silently cursing the Fates for inflicting such an indignity upon me. After all, this was one of those vanishingly rare instances where the book version was objectively not as good as the TV version.

(Just as an aside, my fav Charlie Brown character was always Schroeder. I never gave it much thought, but Schroeder is actually kinda goth with his dark colors, quiet demeanor, & music obsession, so...makes sense. I imagine when he hit his teen years, he joined a goth band, died his hair black, & played wicked dark keyboards at countless gigs.)

Fast forward a few years & I can still vividly recall my profound shock at learning a friend of mine, who owned an early VCR, had recorded "The Great Pumpkin" upon it's previous airing. It was a singular wonder to be able to watch something you could previously only have seen once a year, watch it whenever you want, & not even need to find the most sincere pumpkin patch as prerequisite to do so. It was as if you could reach up into the heavens &, with a simple twist of hand, rewind the celestial sphere back in time to the previous eclipse or passing of Haley's Comet, so staggeringly cosmic in power it seemed. There we sat, watching "The Great Pumpkin" in early December of 1981 & it was a big enough deal to me that I still remember it as if it happened merely a month ago. And I wasn't even really that much into it anymore as I was 11 going on 12 at that point & was eager to put 'childish things' behind me. But I still watched it right the way through. I'm sure it found it's way to most folks VCR's during the 80's, & was officially released on VHS in 1988 & DVD in 2000, so I'm sure nowadays it's a rare household with children which lacks their own copy of "The Great Pumpkin."

Of course, there were other Halloween children's specials eager to rake in the chips like "The Great Pumpkin" did, but none of them ever reached the same level of quality as "The Great Pumpkin." Unlike most other Halloween children's specials, "The Great Pumpkin" has several sequences that, to a child, are legitimately spooky, such as the intro sequence, Snoopy making his way behind enemy lines, & the rising of 'The Great Pumpkin' in the pumpkin patch. I can still recall cynically thumbing through the TV Guide at any given year's new entries & weighing each against "The Great Pumpkin." Be it "Halloween is Grinch Night," "Fat Albert's Halloween Special," or "Bugs Bunny's Howl-oween," all were decidedly lacking. There were some older ones that I'd see on local independent stations that were reasonably good, such as the stop motion "Mad Monster Party" but even that was still a distant second. To this day, no Halloween children's special can hold a Jack-o-lantern to "The Great Pumpkin."

So this Halfway to Halloween, take a 25 minute break to revisit everyone's favorite Halloween special, & may the pumpkin patch in your particular neck of the woods always be the most sincere.

creaturesfromelsewhere 4-29-2024

[madametnt]

The Worst Possible Run of Until Dawn as Scientifically Calculated by Me

Sequel to this post aka Best Run(TM) can be found here

Many people have jokingly done “worst runs” of Until Dawn. Usually these are standard “everybody dies” runs where you kill every character as soon as possible, or you’re just trying to pick all the seemingly funny options. However, these runs are typically done without the absurd amount of game knowledge a loser like me possesses.

Armed with my awareness of Until Dawn’s intricacies, I sought something deeper than a simple all deaths run. My mission was to not only kill these characters in the most tragic way possible, but make them the worst possible versions of themselves while doing it. Fair warning, this guide will contain spoilers for the entirety of Until Dawn since it is best experienced after playing through the game at least once. You get to see a lot of dialogue exchanges that I haven’t been able to find documented anywhere on YouTube, so it’s very worth while if you are interested in that kind of thing. Here’s how I did it.

For this run we are only getting clues/interactables that are either mandatory, or give you the opportunity to lower a relationship with another character. The only exception to this is the hand you can touch as Mike in the asylum because it makes him look stupid. The characters have a tendency to discuss things they find and piece together clues, but not finding any change the cutscenes to make them look like confused and bumbling idiots completely oblivious to what’s going on.

Another thing that will make sense later is that you actually need to play some sections of the game correctly as to set up worse fates for the characters later down the line. Missing QTE’s for the most part only serves to slow the game down, but if you feel like doing so in the earlier sections of the game where the threat of danger is minimal then who am I to stop you?

Dr. Hill is kind of an odd ball and you can get kind of creative with these parts since they are mostly subjective. I personally recommend picking options that hate on animals, crowds, fearing women, etc. Pick the more selfish moral options, I recommend honesty since too much honesty can be seen as cruel. Just don’t pick charity, we hate giving to others here. When picking characters, pick Josh as your favorite since we wanna be a narcissist and Sam as your least favorite since she’s the most difficult to make a terrible person. The absolute must though is being completely unrepentant about the prank and suffering of the characters. Play it like Josh genuinely thinks they are getting what they deserve.

Anything labeled a “bonus” is something that doesn’t really effect anything, but add just that little extra flavor of awfulness. They aren’t mandatory and can be skipped if you feel they are a waste of time.

Last thing is anything marked with a * is just additional information

PROLOGUE

- Drop Hannah

Bonus: miss all QTE’s, take safe route, pick follow footprints, pick follow noise

CHAPTER 1

* You have to feed the squirrel or else you can’t progress

- Snoop in Chris’s bag as Sam to lower their relationship

- Shoot the squirrel as Chris to lower his relationship with Sam

- Explain as Jessica

* This will lower her relationship with Sam slightly while raising it with Chris, (vice versa if you pick demand) but between the two options I think explain comes off as sassier

- Threaten Mike as Matt to lower their relationship

- Protest Emily’s request to go back for her bag

* Despite it seeming sweet Matt is worried about his GF, threatening Mike actually raises his relationship with Emily so protesting will immediately put it back down

- Encourage Matt to look in the telescope as Ashley

* Snowball fight is mostly irrelevant except for this next step, deck Mike to your hearts content

- Hit the bird during the snowball fight

- Shove a snowball in Mike’s face

* The ice sickle QTE afterwards doesn’t matter as Mike will save Jess if she doesn’t push them out of the way first

Bonus: mislead Matt when he initially asks to look through the telescope before conceding afterwards, this basically lets Matt know that Ashley at least momentarily tried to deceive him and then proceeded to be a complete pushover after a little prodding

CHAPTER 2

- Gossip with Josh as Chris as worry raises their relationship

- Be unsettled when talking to Ashley as Chris since confident raises their relationship

- This is a bit hard to miss, but if you walk down (basically opposite of where Ashley is sitting) you can talk to Matt. Ask him how he Emily are doing. This will upset him since he looked through the telescope earlier.

- Basically keep telling Josh to stop being a creep when he talks to Chris about Ashley since agreeing with him raises their relationship

* Talking with Sam doesn’t have any dialogue choices

- Fight Mike as Matt (pick warn followed by attack) this will set Matt’s relationship with every character except Emily to almost zero

Now for a section I like to call Being a Horrible Boyfriend starring Michael Munroe: Part 1

- Jessica will ask Mike about Matt, I forgot what the exact option is called but you want to downplay what happened instead of being openly mad at Matt so Jessica can call bullshit on you

- Ask Jess what she remembers about the prank to be insensitive and lower their relationship

- When Jessica falls into the mineshaft, be as unhelpful and unheroic as possible, do not willingly jump down (Mike will eventually do so on his own after Jessica complains enough) to lower their relationship

- Be grumpy about the bird to lower their relationship

Back to our regularly scheduled programming

- Be mocking about Chris and Ashley as Sam to lower her relationship with Josh

- Tell Josh that “it’s weird to be back” when he tells Sam he’s glad she came

- Pick up the baseball bat while Josh is doing Josh things

- Select humorous, this causes Sam to bring up Josh’s daddy issues and lower their relationship

- Do not high five him. This doesn’t effect stats or anything but it’s about the disrespect.

* Choosing to prank him or not does not affect their relationship

- Choose to investigate the noise together since picking heroic raises their relationship

Bonus: intentionally fuck up the selfie as Mike with Jess

CHAPTER 3

- Be flippant about the spirit board as Ashley to lower her relationship with Josh

* Pick any options you want during the seance, just be sure you don’t apologize since we are unrepentant bitches

Being a Horrible Boyfriend starring Michael Munroe: Part 2

- Be angry about getting pranked

- Do not cross the bridge, instead walk down towards the camera until you discover a tree with E+M surrounded by a heart

- Interact with it, and then make Mike deny it was him and blame it on Emily in a display of toxic masculinity and lower his relationship with Jess

- Kill the deer as Mike because animal cruelty

- Go into the old shed and pick up the mask inside

- Choose scare to be an asshole (and lower their relationship)

- During the chase sequence, pick all the safe options (or let time run out prompting Jess to take the lead), and make sure not to help Jess and unlock the door instead

- Pick up the rifle near the front door and select scare to lower their relationship and be an even BIGGER asshole

- Dismiss Jessica’s insecurities, pick seduce to further ignore her emotional vulnerability, and just generally use your intuition to be an uncaring dick to lower their relationship

This ends our series of Being a Horrible Boyfriend starring Michael Munroe

- Show Ashley the letter as Chris, as being protective implies we care

CHAPTER 4

- For once we wanna be a good boyfriend as Mike and save Jessica during the chase (pick all the risky options, jump instead of shimmy, and get through the QTE’s)

* This is a setup so we can give her a sadder death with Matt in the caves

- Choose to save Ashley as Chris, this lowers his relationship with Josh and makes him bitter later on

CHAPTER 5

- Touch the waving hand. Let the intrusive thoughts win.

- Choose to pry free twice, before cutting off your fingers with the newly dulled blade to cause Mike more suffering

- Kick the dog :(

- Do not feed the dog :(

- Tell Emily to squeeze through the window as Matt, she will deny him since our relationship is low and choosing this lowers it further

- Disagree when Emily says to go to the radio tower to lower their relationship

- When Emily falls off the ledge you’re shimmying on, do nothing to help her (she’ll pull herself up on her own but be pissed)

- Get caught by the Psycho as Sam (literally just stand there)

CHAPTER 6

- Rebuke Emily as Matt to lower their relationship

- Kill the elk as Matt, but don’t let him fall off the cliff since we need him alive for now

* You cannot miss any quick time event as he’s climbing back up or he will fall to his death so be extra careful

- Do not give the flare gun to Matt as Emily to lower their relationship

- Immediately fire the flare gun so that we guarantee Emily gets bitten later (having the unused flare gun lets you avoid this)

- Be completely un-compliant with the man on the radio and do the opposite of what he tells you

- Confront Emily about her and Mike as Matt on the tower and be generally unhelpful

- Choose jump to safety both times and by this point Emily should despise Matt

- Insist you saw the ghost as Ashley to Chris to lower their relationship

- Look at the catalogue of lightbulbs in the basement to have Ashley pick up the scissors

- Have Ashley be dismissive towards the prank when talking to Chris to lower their relationship

- Be reluctant at continuing on because we hate our friends

- Enter the door which I believe is in the room with the hitlist, you’ll find a projector inside. Be sure to interact with it

- Be unrepentant about the prank when Chris comments on it to Ashley to lower their relationship

- Don’t follow Chris because splitting up is stupid and thus you want to do it

- Stab the psycho as Ashley, this makes Chris punch Josh later

- Aim the gun at Ashley first to distress her cause we’re evil

- Shoot her as Chris to lower their relationship to 0

CHAPTER 7

- Do not show concern for Mike or Jessica as Sam after getting rescued as this will raise her relationship with them, focus on factual choices like asking how he got there and such

- Play through Emily’s section normally, just be sure to continue not getting unnecessary clues

- Dismiss Josh as Chris to lower their relationship

- Be angry with Josh as Chris to lower their relationship

* Because we chose to save Ashley over Josh, he will antagonize Chris here and further lower their relationship

- Hit Josh and Chris with the plywood to lower his relationship with Josh and lose Mike’s respect

CHAPTER 8

- Survive the encounter with the wendigo as Emily so we can give her a more tragic death later on (just don’t fail too many QTE’s)

- Be confused as Chris when talking to Emily and do not show any concern for her or Matt

- As Chris, demand to have the pistol from Mike, he will deny you because you hit Josh earlier in the shed

- Survive the encounter with the wendigo as Chris all the way through, Ashley will refuse to let him in once he makes it to the house, letting the wendigo kill him

- Shoot Emily as Mike in the basement which puts his relationship with every character present at 0

- Hide the truth as Ashley from Sam since Sam will immediately figure out she is lying and their relationship will drop to zero

CHAPTER 9

- Once the action sequence as Mike starts, put your controller down and enjoy some relaxation as him (and the doggy :( ) get pummeled

- Investigate voice as Ashley

- Open the thumping trap door to get Ashley killed as you won’t have the opportunity to do so later

CHAPTER 10

- Let Matt get smacked by Jessica because funny

- Do not ask Jessica if she is alright as Matt since we do not want to show empathy

- Choose hide during the chase scene, make sure to catch Jessica before she falls

- Afterwards, choose abandon Jessica

* Running ahead could be seen as accidental where as abandoning Jessica implies Matt is knowingly leaving her to die which is much worse

- Fail to close the door in time to get Matt killed

- “Come on shake your body, baby, do the conga!“ AKA fail all the don’t moves

You did it! You made all these characters into the worst versions of themselves they could possibly be.

[autistichalsin]

11 or 22 for Halsin/Your Personal TavDurge for the meme, maybe? But if an origin character slips in your head for this, I'd still love to read it!

I actually don't have a Tav or a Durge- I haven't gotten to play yet, and even when I do I find the Origins much more interesting than making an OC. (I do love seeing others' Tavs and Durges! I just don't think I'd like to make one). BUT, I think this prompt works best for a resisting Durge all the same, so I'm going to... sort of... write what I hope is the best approximation to everyone else's resisting!Durge?

Also, there be hurt/comfort here because I don't think I am capable of not whumping Halsin in my fics.

And Durge isn't named here. I have this headcanon that after the temple, a resisting Durge doesn't want to be known as their old name anymore, but hasn't chosen a new one yet (but they eventually pick one with help from their LI.)

I hope this is okay!

--

"You came back." Halsin stares in shock from his spot on the altar, still stuck in place by the lock and still very weak, but at least conscious- and able to talk. "... Thanks to our skeletal companion, no doubt..." He gives a little smile. "You came back to us..."

The Bhaalspawn stands, wiping the blood off their front as best they can. A few weeks ago, they might have relished being covered in another's blood, but that had been another lifetime.

"Yes," they whisper as they give up on removing the bloodstains. They approach Halsin, kneel down to remove the magic bindings. "I could hardly leave you alone with old Withers, could I?"

Halsin laughs, and then grimaces, breaking into a fit of coughs. The sound makes the Bhaalspawn's eyes narrow as he they approach Halsin. "What did Orin do to you?" they demand in a low hiss, concern and anger clear on their face now.

Freed at last, Halsin holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Nothing a healing potion will not fix. I simply... this place... is making me unwell," he admits, coughing and rubbing his side.

"Then we will get you to camp, and when we arrive, you will take that potion at once," they reply, doing their best to help Halsin up. Halsin is significantly weakened, though, and he struggles to remain upright.

Halsin's eyes close in exhaustion before he opens them. "... You came back," he whispers again, like he can't believe it. "I watched the foul... that..." He inhales slowly. "I could not have imagined resurrection was possible after that."

"I was much more worried about you." The admission comes before they can stop it. "I thought at any moment, she'd fly into a rage and..."

"But she did not." Halsin closes his eyes again, leaning more of his body weight against them with every step. "We are both here."

"Yes," they say softly. "And I am glad for it. I could not do this without you." They stroke Halsin's back, their hand lingering so they can feel every inhalation.

"Nor could I. This... I cannot imagine being without your presence." Halsin smiles a little. "You reminded me... who I was."

"And you believed in me when few did, and helped me discover a version of myself I never could have been otherwise," they whisper in response. "You saved me from madness."

"And you saved me from darkness. Me, and Thaniel and Oliver." Halsin smiles again, despite the exhaustion.

They chuckle as they manage to finally guide Halsin from the sanctum. "I have no other choice but to use that cliche 'we saved each other' line now."

Halsin nods. "That would be appropriate here, yes," he whispers. He glances back, looks at Orin's body, and the associated puddles of blood on the altar, and watches as Withers finally follows after them. "I suppose we will be unable to complain about his comments on our love life either, after all he has just done for us..."

They smile a little. "Yes, that is true. As I said... I could not abandon you to him."

Halsin takes a breath, one hand holding his sore chest. "Most kind of you. It would be the most cruel fate of all, surviving being a sacrifice to Bhaal only to lose you..." A pause, like Halsin had forgotten the joke. "And to be left with those prying comments."

Understanding, they kiss Halsin's cheek. "I'm alright. And so are you," they whisper again, knowing that they will have a lot of reassuring to do over the next few days as they process what happened- and find their way forwards together.