#code 666

[bzzrk]

world code 666.

[code-pain]

Day[666]

Yakumo: I like to think of myself as a semi responsible adult here.

Louis: Protagonist is 70% of your impulse control and you know this Yakumo.

Protagonist: I feel like Yakumo is the more responsible one of us two though.

Yakumo: We are both 70% of each others' impulse control.

Protagonist: Just two lil beasts in pinwheel hats spinning on the merry-go-round at dangerous velocities, holding each other’s hands so the other doesn’t fall off.

[demondoggy]

ooouuhh my motherboard you’re huge.

[ @confused-computer ]

[ agh, guest 666 is my fav forsaken char !!!! :D ]

“C0m….p-put3r?”

+It leaned down, inspecting the new face with a hint of intrigue, before its eyes drifted to her cable tail. Slowly, her head tilted and somewhat wrapped around the computer’s body, craning to see the tail better as one claw reached out to fiddle with it curiously.+

[snowyllama-art]

random ramblings at 5 am because J cannot sleep

what if when we finally meet gaster he's just given up completely, like as soon as we find him he just acts like seam or a second, more apathetic sans

like, we're given a few hints that Gaster can at least watch and listen to what goes on in the world and his erasure from the timeline is definitely before Flowey first woke up and did his first reset, so like Gaster very likely saw what Flowey did in his hundreds, thousands, possibly millions of resets

all while with each reset your existence is slowly being more and more forgotten and written over.

Seeing the same days play out again and again, watching people you care about being killed over and over, being cursed with this knowledge but having no way to stop it

at some point you'd just stop caring, and at some point you wouldn't even want to go back

at some point you'd wonder, would your return even matter?

Maybe it would matter in a world that's not your own, a world where there's no soulless flower controlling time

but would it even be possible to escape?

Only time will tell

and in that time, an experiment can be conducted

so yeah many thoughts about this character for whom we FOR SURE know like two things about

[devilstown]

DOLLY TAG DROP

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @jozzieblood @buckysteveloki-me @dragonoftheshadows @plaidconvers @kateawolf13 @keira-kaz2y5 @frog-fans-unite @doilooklikeagiveafrack @verynormalsstuff @nynxtea @iminyourceiling @seventeen-x @mgchaser @y0urgirl @lovely-seb @laughterafter @mysuperlaserpissnumber1fan @irasciblemogwai @svtbpbts @vivalas-vega @chonkybonky @bmyva1entine @6urmom @gullableh @homiesexual-or-homosexual @aoi-targaryen @bitter-semi-sweet @soflegacy @kath-666 @hiireadstuff @nyxthedeity @highhopes1008 @sineminuse @hxsxxk-180294 @wordacadabra @hawkinsavclub1983 @buckingforbuckybarnes @purplefluffycows @raikan624 @avengemepercy @killerwendigo @winterjaysoldier @magnoliamoogle @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @huang-the-geek @joewhs @witchywannabe3263 @iyskgd @ironenemycollective @bumblebeebutter @sizzlingstarlightsky @buckybarnesslutshop @starstruck-cowgirl @angelicdarkn3ss @confused-simp-jpg @hufflepuffsforjoy @nicolebarnes @avatarobsessedgirly @escapismurmom @paige0103 @dollface-xoxo @read-just-cant-stop @sycamoregirl444 @raikan624 @iwritememesnotprophecies @imissbenswolo-blog @lcolumbia1988 @paintmekala @knowingnothingnoel @captain-shannon-becker @jainaeatsstars @mm4t @houseofthechaos @chachkid @escapefromrealitylol

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A/N: I am alive ! Sorry for the slow update but here is the next part !

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Tw: cussing, fluff

Part 17

Words of Command - Part 18

The communal floor of Stark Tower was unusually still. A breeze from the automated ventilation stirred the long drapes beside the windows, and light poured in—soft gold across glass, metal, and silence.

The aftermath of what had happened the night before still clung to the walls like an echo.

At the center console, Tony Stark looked every bit the genius-billionaire-insomniac, hair tousled, arc reactor glowing through a rumpled Black Sabbath shirt, coffee in hand like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Holograms danced in front of him—blueprints, security schematics, and tracking data cascading in midair.

Agent Collins stood just to the side, shifting uncomfortably under Stark’s scrutinizing gaze.

“These,” Tony said, gesturing like a magician unveiling a new trick, “are the new key cards. Retina-matched, palm-synced, neuro-linked to your heart rate. So if you’re panicking, bleeding, or doing a very bad impersonation of me? It locks you out.”

He slid a card across the table toward Collins.

“Don’t lose it, rookie. Or misplace it in a vending machine like the last one.”

A beat. ���And if you’re still thinking about shooting someone in this building? Maybe aim for the espresso machine next time—it has less moral ambiguity.”

Collins flushed, stammering, “Yes, sir. Of course. I—I’m sorry again—”

Tony waved a hand dismissively, then turned his eyes on you.

“And you,” he said, pointing, voice light but laced with something tighter, “Thumbelina.”

You blinked. “Hmm"

“Yeah. Honestly, the most terrifying thing about that entire debacle was how calm you were.”

He reached under the console and slid another card toward you. Unlike Collins’ sleek black one, yours was silver, marked with a small Stark Industries insignia and a delicate engraving of a rose.

“Custom-coded,” he added more quietly. “Highest clearance short of mine or Pepper's. And it tracks your location anywhere in the building… or, you know, if someone tries to relocate you.”

You hesitated before picking it up. “Tony, this is…”

He cut you off with a glance—his tone softening only fractionally.

“Don’t read too much into it, Thumbelina. Just… consider it your golden ticket to not getting Winter-Soldiered next time a Hydra Barbie struts through my door.” His jaw twitched faintly before he turned back to his holograms.

"Because between you and me? I don’t know what would’ve happened if Barnes had flipped. And I’d rather not find out.”

Behind you, Bucky stood against the window, arms folded tightly across his chest. His face was carved from stone, eyes unreadable. But at Tony’s last words, you saw the flicker in his posture—a subtle clench of his metal fingers. His jaw worked, once, before he spoke.

“I wouldn’t have hurt her.”

It was quiet. Firm.

Tony didn’t look back. “Good plan, Tin Man. Let’s stick to it.”

You reached out and gently brushed your fingers over Bucky’s hand. His head turned toward you immediately, eyes softer now, focused entirely on you.

“You okay?” you asked quietly.

He glanced at the security card in your hand. “You keep that close. Anyone tries anything again... they won’t get the chance to finish a word.”

He meant it.

And this time, even Tony didn’t argue.

You found Tony later, alone on the terrace of Stark Tower. The city sprawled out beneath him, bathed in afternoon haze, a living thing of sound and motion.

He stood by the railing, sunglasses in place despite the shade, drink in hand—something amber that caught the light.

“Didn’t peg you for a brooder,” you said gently as you stepped out.

He didn’t look at you, just lifted the glass in a half-salute. “Rooftop brooding’s in the billionaire starter pack. That and daddy issues.”

You smiled faintly, letting the door slide shut behind you. The wind teased your hair, light and playful in contrast to the tension that still clung to him like static.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you offered. “For the card. The upgrades. Everything.”

Tony tilted his head, finally looking at you.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, voice still smooth, but quieter. “You didn’t ask to be dragged into any of this.”

“I’m here because I want to be. Bucky—he…”

“Thinks you’re his handler,” Tony interrupted, eyes narrowing behind his shades. “Still. Despite all the progress. And despite the fact he looks at you like you're the only safe place he's ever known.”

You looked down at your hands. “Yea, I know.”

Tony drained his drink and set the glass aside with a click of crystal on steel. “You know, if you were anyone else, I’d have locked Barnes in a vibranium box and shipped him off by now.”

You blinked up at him.

“He’s dangerous, Thumbelina. He’s got more kill commands in that head than most nukes. And if someone whispers poetry in Russian, he'll take out half my lab. So forgive me if I’m not sleeping well.”

The sarcasm was still there—but now it trembled just enough to show the cracks.

You stepped closer. “But you didn’t lock him up.”

“No,” Tony said, softer now. “Because he didn’t snap. Because you, god knows why, have faith in him.”

He exhaled hard, raking a hand through his hair.

“I saw what happened the other night. He didn’t hurt you. That means something. I just…” His voice dropped. “I don’t want to be the guy who says I told you so after something breaks. And I sure as hell don’t want it to be you who pays the price.”

You placed your hand lightly on his arm. “Tony, I know what he’s capable of. But I also know who he is now. You’ve seen it too.”

He looked down at your hand. “You’re good for him. Maybe too good. Just—promise me you’ll keep that card on you. And if something feels off, you run, okay? Because even the best of us can lose control.”

There was a pause. He added, more gently, “And maybe I care more than I let on. Don't make me say it out loud or I’ll combust.”

You smiled through the tightness in your chest. “Noted.”

Tony nodded and pulled his sunglasses off, eyes tired but sincere. “Now go check Manchurian Candidate. Before he broods a hole through my floor.”

You turned to leave but paused. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you”

The workshop hummed with artificial light and low-toned rock playing from a half-covered speaker somewhere on the cluttered shelves. Screens flickered with diagnostic data, schematic overlays of Bucky’s arm rotating in slow motion beside a real-time scan of his nervous system. The scent of oil, hot metal, and solder hung in the air like cologne.

Bucky sat on the reinforced stool with his left arm clamped into a calibration rig, a faint whirr-click pulsing as Tony adjusted a servo near the elbow joint. He flinched, just slightly, more from reflex than pain.

“Relax, Tin Man,” Tony drawled, leaning in with a fine-point tool between his fingers. “You jump like I’m tightening bolts with a wrench and a prayer.”

Bucky gave him a narrowed look but didn’t rise to the bait. “You talk a lot for someone who’s supposed to be concentrating.”

“And you grunt a lot for someone with enough years to have heard jazz when it was edgy,” Tony shot back. His tone was teasing, but the undercurrent was cautious—calculated. He didn’t trust easily.

A silence passed, broken only by the soft hiss of hydraulics and a string of code scrolling on a nearby display. Then Tony added, more pointedly

“Since you didn't go full Terminator on us, I feel safe enough to bring up a topic of immense personal importance.”

Bucky sighed. “Let me guess. Her.”

“Ding ding ding.” Tony didn’t look up, but there was a smirk in his voice. “My favorite receptionist. Whisperer of stray murder puppies. You know she’s important to me, right?”

Bucky’s jaw twitched. His lips parted, slow and thoughtful. “She’s important to a lotta people.”

Tony side-eyed him. “Yeah. Which is why I’m keeping an eye on you, Frostbite. No offense... Okay, some offense.”

Bucky's gaze dropped to the limb Tony was working on. His metal fingers flexed, this time not in defense—but curiosity. Familiarity.

“You think I’d want to hurt her?” he asked, not with hostility, but that quiet kind of self-loathing that made even Tony pause.

“No,” Tony said after a beat, tone shifting slightly. “But you’re still figuring yourself out. And she’s got this... thing where she puts others first. Loyal to the end. And way too forgiving.”

“She’s not forgiving,” Bucky corrected gently. “She believes in people. There’s a difference.”

Tony actually looked up at that, giving Bucky a more measured stare. Something passed between them then—not quite friendship, but an understanding.

Mutual protectiveness.

Mutual guilt.

“You know she calls you ‘sweet when you’re quiet,’ right?” Tony said, smirking now, screwdriver back in hand. “Which is a weird thing to hear while trying to eat pancakes, by the way.”

Bucky gave a rare huff of a laugh. “That’s her. Says the strangest things with a straight face. Makes you believe ‘em anyway.”

Bucky looked away, jaw flexing slightly. “She deserves to feel safe, not… manage me.”

Tony finally looked up, goggles pushed to his forehead. That, more than anything, made Bucky uneasy. Tony’s sarcasm vanished for a moment.

“Still think she’s your handler?” Tony asked, voice flatter now, more serious.

Bucky shifted on the stool. “I don’t know. I thought that at first. But… not anymore.”

He flexed his metal fingers, gaze distant. “When she’s around, I don’t feel like a weapon. I feel like someone who could maybe learn to be human again.”

Tony’s expression didn’t soften—Stark didn’t really do soft—but it did shift. Understanding replaced the usual edge. He leaned against the bench, arms crossed.

Bucky blinked. “What?”

Tony gestured dramatically. “Come on, Barnes. The looks. The way you practically short-circuit when she walks in. You’re over here talking like a noir detective monologuing about love and redemption. It's textbook.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to disagree, but… he didn’t. Instead, he exhaled and said, almost to himself. “She’s… soft. Kind. She's never called me Asset.”

Tony tilted his head, watching. “She also trusts you.”

“I know,” Bucky said quietly. “That’s why I want to protect her.”

Tony stood straight again, brushing his hands off. “Okay, Loverboy, don’t make this weird. Look—if you ever do forget who you are again, or even think about slipping—I’ll vaporize you myself. No hesitation.”

Bucky nodded. “I’d want you to.”

Tony held his gaze a second longer, then, satisfied, picked up the casing panel and returned to tinkering.

“She deserves a guy who knows what she’s worth,” he said offhandedly. “You ever figure that out, maybe you won’t need her to save you all the time.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Maybe I don’t want her to stop.”

He glanced toward the glass wall separating the workshop from the common floor—where you’d left earlier to bake with Pepper, your laugh barely audible through the insulated door.

Tony finished the adjustment and pressed a button on his remote. The brace unclamped, and Bucky’s arm whirred smoothly as it came to life. He flexed the fingers again—no glitch, no catch. The smallest smile curved his lips.

“Not bad,” Bucky admitted.

“High praise, coming from Cap’s ex-roommate,” Tony said, then added quieter, “Just... don’t screw this up, Barnes.”

Bucky stood, glancing down at the arm before meeting Tony’s eyes.

“She sees something good in here. Even after all the bad.” he said slowly

Tony’s smirk faded, replaced by a more solemn nod.

The city outside the window blinked with quiet life—cool blue lights spilling across the sheets, striping your forms like reflections from a slow-moving river. Stark Tower always felt too big at night, the hum of its tech softened to a ghostly lullaby.

You lay on your side, head resting against your pillow, hair slightly mussed from sleep. The oversized t-shirt you wore—hung loosely around your frame, bare feet tangled beneath the throw blanket.

Bucky lay on his back beside you, fully dressed in sweats and a black tee, his metal arm resting across his stomach. The space between you wasn’t large.

His head turned slightly toward you, eyes silvered in the moonlight. “Doll?”

You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

“I keep thinking about something Stark said,” his voice rasped, like gravel being gently scattered. “About you...”

"Tony says a lot of things, most of it bullshit." You deadpan

“Yeah.” Bucky chuckled under his breath, and it startled even him. “He does.”

There was a moment where the silence thickened again, this time with memory. He turned his head, eyes meeting yours in the dark. “Doll… I used to think you were my handler.”

“I know.”

“But I don’t anymore.”

That made your breath catch. You blinked slowly, not trusting yourself to speak.

“You feel different,” he continued, and his voice had that sounded like hesitant wonder. “When you touch me—it’s not… control. It’s comfort.”

“That's ... good,” you whispered.

His eyes softened. “I still wait for orders. I’ll catch myself looking to you like… like I need permission to breathe.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You never did.”

He nodded, but it was heavy.

Tired.

Honest.

“Yeah, but it feels easier when you’re nearby.”

His flesh hand shifted slightly on the sheets between you—like he was thinking about reaching for you but wasn’t sure it was okay.

His gaze dropped to your fingers.

He didn’t move away.

“I like hearing you talk,” he admitted, voice barely audible. “It makes the static go quiet.”

You smiled faintly, then yawned, your body curling slightly toward him. Not touching. Not really.

“I’m proud of you, Bucky.”

He turned his head again, looking at you with something raw in his expression—something real.

“Thanks, Doll.”

A long, steady breath passed between you. Outside, distant thunder rolls lazily over the city, a storm crawling in. The occasional flicker of lightning backlights the clouds, casting dim shadows that briefly stretch across the walls.

You’re both on your backs now, close but not quite touching. Then you feel it—a shift in the mattress. Just slight. Delicate.

Bucky is moving.

You don’t look at first. But his arm—his flesh one—crosses the neutral space between you, and fingertips gently brush your forearm. Not a grab. Not a possessive touch. Just the trembling edge of contact.

“Doll…” he says softly, voice thick. “Can I…?”

You glance at him.

His face is tense, but open. Not fearful, but expectant. The kind of look someone wears when they’re stepping out onto a frozen lake for the first time, testing if it will hold.

You nod.

He trails his hand up, slowly, fingers dragging against your skin until he reaches your wrist. There, he rests his palm lightly—not holding, just being. His thumb ghosts over the skin there, feeling your pulse.

“You always run cold,” he murmurs, half to himself.

You smile, a little shaky. “I guess so.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then, in a voice as soft as the dark around you.

“Can I ask you something ? And you can lie if it’s easier.”

That earns a soft laugh from you, nervous and unsure. “Okay.”

His brow furrows slightly. His thumb still gently strokes your wrist, grounding himself in that fragile contact.

“When I’m not… y’know, losing my mind or tryin’ to kill anyone… do you like being around me?”

You shift to your side, facing him. His hand slips naturally to rest between you on the mattress, but his gaze stays locked with yours.

“I do.”

He nods slowly, you can see the next question forming, nerves tightening his jaw.

“Doll…” His voice is low and careful, like stepping into a room he isn’t sure he’s welcome in. “Can I…?”

You turn your head slowly, meeting his eyes. “Can you what, Bucky?”

His Adam’s apple bobs. His metal hand, lifts from the bed by mere inches. You see the muscles in his shoulder flex. He hesitates.

“Can I keep touching you?”

He’s not asking for permission to take.

He’s asking to connect.

You nod slowly, a little smile at the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, Buck. You can.”

He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and moves with such delicacy it almost breaks your heart. He uses his flesh hand—bringing it up. His fingers skim the curve of your cheek, knuckles first, cautious and reverent.

He cups your jaw softly, thumb ghosting just beneath your eye like he’s afraid you’ll dissolve into mist if he presses too hard.

“You’re warm now,” he murmurs.

“So are you,” you whisper.

His mouth quirks—an actual smile, crooked and small. “That’s good. I feel like I haven’t been warm in a long time.”

You shift slightly toward his touch.

He watches you a moment longer, the silence between you thick with something tender. Then, gently, his thumb strokes your cheek again, “Doll… Do you—do you feel anything for me?”

You blink slowly, heart thudding so loud it drowns out the city noise.

“Bucky…” you say gently, voice barely above a breath. “I do feel something. I care. I worry. And sometimes when you look at me… I feel it all the way down in my ribs.”

Bucky releases a small, almost incredulous laugh through his nose. “That’s a hell of a place to feel something.”

You smile. “Well, that’s kinda ...where you live now.”

“Do you think…” he starts again, voice shaky, “if things were different—if I’d met you before—”

You lift your hand, placing it lightly over his metal fingers. “I’m glad I met you now, Bucky. Because this version of you—the one that’s healing, that’s choosing—he’s the one I want to know.”

His breath catches. Just a little. His lips part like he wants to speak again, but instead he lets his forehead drop forward, resting it gently against yours.

[bzzrk]

Listen/purchase: Split Scene by Nevada Hardware

[basicallytravus]

I love Chaos Therapy so much, and the way I interpreted that lettuce scene has me in shambles. His character means the world to me and we haven't caught a break since season 5 of JWCC

Also 666 Flags by Origami Angel is so Kenji coded, I NEED PEOPE TO SEE MY VISION

[ca-dmv-bot]

Customer: CODE A WITH 666 DMV: 666 DEVIL Verdict: ACCEPTED

[devilstown]

"i can smell it on you." his voice is low, soft, easy, forearms resting on the table. can he? not really, but people are known liars. "if you aren't scared, whats wrong?" pick, pick, pick.

OPEN.

"i'm not scared of you." okay, they're lying. but that's the upside of no one being able to read their mind.

[cryptotheism]

i’m fascinated by the idea you mentioned of applying occult reading techniques to non-occult literature, do you have any good examples of that/can you write one?

Remember how a bunch of people thought the BBC Sherlock show was going to end with gay sex? That's what happens when you apply esoteric analysis techniques to something not built for it.

It's a similar analytical toolkit to the people who say shit like "If you add up the values of the letters of JOE BIDEN it equals 666."

A humorous example would be an article I read about supposed esoteric symbology in My Immortal. The fanfiction. Because the thing is, it actually does kinda have an esoteric reading. It's based on Harry Potter, which uses a lot of names and terminology from European occultism. It kinda accidentally stumbles it's way into recreating a bizarro version of the Chymical Wedding. But, it's clearly not intended to be read that way.

Whereas Alice in Wonderland actually does have several hidden puzzles and codes in it's text. Carroll damn near has characters say "I fucking love hiding puzzles everywhere."

That's the tricky bit. Sometimes it can be tough determine when you're on the right track, or you're grasping at straws. This is made even more complicated by the fact that a lot of modern occult authors intentionally add misleading threads, intended to lead the uninitiated in circles.

[forsaken-headcanons]

(TW for implied child death !! and body mutation idk. uhh basically the c00lgui did some things. yeah.)

If we're going to start blaming a survivor for being Spectre or for being the reason everyone's there, it's most likely to be 007n7.

NOW HEAR ME OUT PLEASE DON'T BLOW UP MY HOU gunfire sfx

ANYWAY AS I WAS SAYING, if one of the survivors were to be "Spectre", it would most likely be 007n7 for a small list of reasons I've gathered so far.

First off, the survivors and killers. I have a small list of the characters and why he would "forsaken" them.

Noob & Guest 666 - Noob and G666 had an extremely positive friendship back then, which made 007n7 deeply resent them because - how dare the two of them be happy, while he had to suffer in his own guilt for what he had done to Noli? He did some shit and figured out how to fuck with G666's code (I imagine Robloxians are mostly made up of code) and made him what he is in forsaken, hence why G666 mostly has a red-black color palette like his c00lgui (the color palette's definitely a stretch, but whatever </3)

Elliot - This is a really obvious pick. Part of me thinks that he would've let Elliot go if he hadn't pissed him off by banning them from Builder Brothers' Pizza and making c00lkidd extremely emotional and throw a tantrum about it, but I feel like that's just the PizzaBurger shipper in me. If I would be more realistic, he might've just forsaken him out of spite.

The Admins + 1x1x1x1 - Again, really obvious. They tried to supress him and his hacking things yada yada.... He also made Doom a killer out of spite and specifically chose him because... y'know. Doombringer. He is quite literally the bringer of doom??? And he also added 1x1x1x1 to rub more salt in Shedletsky's hypothetical wound.

Taph - Works for the Admins. Also, I feel like at some point, Taph would've demolished 007n7's house because - y'know - falsely terminated, so 007n7 just kept that hate to himself internally because he knew damn well he was gonna get his "revenge" soon.

Two Time & Azure - Similar to Noob and G666, he resents their relationship and how close they were. When he found out that a ritual had been performed and Azure had been sacrificed, he had taken that opportunity and made him into the killer he is in Forsaken, along with sending in Two Time, a way to teach them that no offense goes unpunished.

Guest 1337 - 1337 had a positive and a really happy family. 007n7 envied his joy and decided to take it away from him, just his own was taken away, too. This could explain why Guest was never favored by the "Spectre" and hadn't left him with any tools or items to fend himself with, only his fists and abilities.

Chance - They were always carefree and were surrounded by a BUNCH of people. 007n7, again, envied that. The carefree attitude they always had, their large friend groups, their fame... He had everything, and yet he still had the nerve to let himself be put into dangerous situations for the adrenaline rush. If life-threatening, adrenaline-inducing, scarring experiences was what Chance wanted, 007n7 would give it to them.

Area 51 killers - 007n7 probably had an Area 51 phase as a teen or something. Idk I can't make up anything here except for that.

John Doe & Jane Doe - Again, envy. Seeing their positive marriage had dealt some level of effect on 007n7. He felt envious of the fact the two were happily in love, happily holding a relationship he knew he would never had. The thought of that alone had driven him insane with anger and guilt, corrupting John Doe and leaving Jane Doe only as a mere spectator, never being able to see her own husband face-to-face ever again.

Noli - As a plea of forgiveness. Before he had left Noli for whatever reason, 007n7 knew about Noli's sadistic tendencies and how he used to often torment people with his programs. He had forsaken him as a way to tell him "Hey, I still remember you enjoy this. Please don't ever think I forgot about you." and "I'm sorry for what I did. Here, I'll let you have free will to do whatever you want, as long as it means you'll forgive me."

(This is where the TWs come in !!)

c00lkidd - Had a bit of difficulty figuring out this one without implementing some hcs into it. You know how there was an accident that had something happen to c00lkidd? 007n7 could never forgive himself after that. He spent all night and all day trying to search for kidd, going from town to town, asking locals if they had seen his son, to no avail.

It wasn't until the day he had finally found c00lkidd's body, deep in the woods, dripping in blood. He didn't know what had happened. He didn't know why his son was dead, heartlessly murdered, left in the woods. Driven by guilt, he had tried his best to bring him back to life, tears dripping down his face as he messily fumbled with his son's code, trying to find a way to bring him back warm and into his arms.

All he had ended up doing was disfiguring his own son's body. Arms and legs freakishly longer than a normal 10-year-olds, a wide, sunken smile on his face, and a distorted voice. But it didn't matter. He had brought his son back to life. He knew what he had done was wrong, but he couldn't bring it in himself to undo his craft. Instead, he had opted for sending his son into the crooked world he had crafted, letting him "play" with the survivors and make new friends. After all, all he wanted was the best for his beloved son.

As for 007n7 himself, well...

The one in rounds isn't actually him. It's just a more advanced clone of himself, which is why "he" almost always never smiles, always looks distant or out of it. He had used that puppet multiple times to try to have conversations with his son and former friend, trying to see if they were doing alright in the pocket dimension.

Uhh might add some more on this theory soon <3 my brain is FRIED rn and I still have some homework to do :P

-⛑️🍗 anon

007N7 AS THE SPECTRE AU/THEORY??? WAITT THIS IS LOWKEY PEAK.... we might fw the idea for this actually...

godss the concepts of how everyone got here are so so good!! but trust us when we say we are hunting you down for the potential angst ideas /silly. in tears at c00lkidd's part... 7n7.... 7n7 we don't think that's what your son would've wanted vro 💔💔

[lime-bloods]

I decided to take the plunge and look for responses to this update on Twitter, and was disappointed to find a lot of people expressing that they thought this episode was pointless trauma for trauma's sake, when I thought it communicated its point very effectively.

One of its main points of course is the truism that "recovery isn't linear". Vriska's echeladder at the end of the chapter symbolises this; not only does it include "regression roast" among its rungs, but it's the first echeladder thus far that Vriska has actually failed to complete by the end of the episode; Scratch expresses this point literally by shrinking Vriska down, reversing the literal growth Vriska has experienced over the course of page 666. Consequentially, the Doc Scratch chapter lacks any kind of catharsis at its conclusion, and as a result it does feel really awful to read, but the deliberate choice behind this is clear to see.

While cliches about the intricacies of recovery from trauma do not, in and of themselves, make for a particularly profound message, this chapter also more importantly gave us a clear vision of what Vriska needs to work on next in order to move on from this obstacle: her compulsion to constantly be acting, always moving forward, is in fact part of what holds her back.

This manifests itself most glaringly in Doc Scratch, who positions himself as an impulse that Vriska cannot ignore - echoing Hussie's commentary that "He's always there at the right moment to nudge people in the direction of doing the nasty thing [...] they already know they want to do." - with English removed from the picture, the threat Scratch poses is now simply the fleas he's left in Vriska's mind. No matter what she tries to "do over" within the Plot Point, the decisions she made in the past are still part of her life, and there's always the possibility that she will make decisions like those again. (there is nothing new in Paradox Space.) But from the beginning, Vriska's brash decisionmaking is also exactly what leads her into Scratch's parlor in the first place: she has an eternity in front of her to just spend time with the friends she's made amends with, if she wants to; but even when the challenge facing her is literally just growing and maturing as a person she tries to blaze ahead and take the quickest path through it. And Aradia foreshadows this in the first chapter when she warns that Vriska's attitude is defined by "direct acti0ns"; so long as she obsesses over cause and effect, the repeating patterns that shape her world and her life will always be in her blind spot. (Perhaps that's why she wears an infinity loop on her missing eye?)

This chapter also shakes things up in an important way by turning our understanding of Vriska's echeladder candle on its head. We've had the vague sense that it's been "burning down" to something since the first chapter, but with Gcatavros advising Vriska this week that she needs to slow down "sO YOU DON'T BURN OUT," it suddenly seems like the candle burning down isn't necessarily all a good thing. Her interaction with Scratch is filled with allusions to this; there's a "convenient timer" keeping track of Vriska's life in the Plot Point that she's not paying attention to because she's too busy looking forward, and he sees her off with a coded warning that her "Light" may soon run out just as it did when she was a child. Ultimately what this latest chapter has brought to the table is stakes; by demonstrating that it's still possible for Vriska to face losses on her journey through the inferno, we can no longer be so confident that the "Hell Tiers" have to be a straightforward "upgrade".

[arlerts-angel]

my birthday color reminds me of his eyes 🥹🤍!!! like specifically the highlights!

npt's: @tetta-kissaki @keiti-tenshi00 @sleazymac-n-cheesy + anyone else who wants to join!

Tag game!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ ✨

Birthday colour vs favourite character.

Link to birthday colour

Tagging: @white-flower-blooming // @shaxxophone // @queerferalgremlinnooneaskedfor // @31duskballs // @weepingpussywillowtree // @subtlybrilliant // @jadedzer0// @icarus-suraki // @oneiro-nautical // @fismoll7secinv // @princessofxianle // @quilleth //

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა if you are not tagged but want to join, please feel free to reblog this post with your results and favourite character, I'd love to see it!!

[achillesuwu]

Well guess I made it even more yellow (code below !)

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.post fieldset fieldset,

fieldset fieldset {

background: none;

}

#header {

background: #000 url('https://media.archiveofourown.org/news/milestones/2024-08-seventeen-years-otw/2024-08-seventeen-years-otw-pattern.jpg');

background-size: 350px;

}

#header .heading a,

#header .primary .dropdown a:focus,

#header .heading a:visited,

#main .pagination .current,

h2 {

color: #ffe8b4;

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border-color: #000000;

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#header .actions a[href="/menu/fandoms"],

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#header .actions a[href="/menu/search"],

#header .actions a[href="/menu/about"] {

color: #DEB887;

}

#footer ul {

background: url('https://live.staticflickr.com/7284/9616997915_4194b6c6f7_h.jpg');

background-size: 350px;

}

#footer ul li:nth-child(1) ul,

#footer ul li:nth-child(2) ul,

#footer ul li:nth-child(3) ul,

#footer ul li:nth-child(4) ul {

background: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.0);

}

#header .primary {

background: #8a1a10;

}

#footer {

background: #8a1a10;

}

input[type="text"],

textarea,

select {

background: #191919;

color: #DEB887;

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select:focus {

background: #2a2a2a;

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option {

background: #191919;

color: #DEB887;

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#main form fieldset.work.meta dl dd.warning.required fieldset {

color: #DEB887;

}

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background: #2a2a2a;

color: #DEB887;

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color: #000000;

}

fieldset,

.verbose fieldset {

border-color: #404040;

background: #000000;

border: 1px solid #595959;

}

.search [role=tooltip] {

background: #333;

border: 1px solid #666;

}

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color: #c88937;

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color: #111;

}

body,

.group,

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form dl,

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ul.notes,

table,

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background: #000000;

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form blockquote.userstuff,

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th,

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background: #191919;

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a,

a.tag,

a:link,

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dl.meta,

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form.single fieldset,

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}

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dl.index dd,

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#header #greeting img,

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#header form,

#header p,

#dashboard a:hover,

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span.delete,

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span.requested,

a.work,

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a.cloud7,

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a:visited,

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span.series .divider {

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}

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.action,

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input[type="submit"],

button,

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background: #191919;

border-color: #222;

color: #eee;

box-shadow: inset 0 -8px 4px #232323, inset 0 8px 7px #191919;

text-shadow: none;

}

.actions a:hover,

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border-color: #000;

box-shadow: inset 2px 2px 2px #000;

}

.actions a:active,

.current,

a.current,

.current a:visited {

color: #DEB887;

background: #191919;

border-color: #DEB887;

box-shadow: inset 1px 1px 3px #000000;

}

.delete a,

span.delete {

box-shadow: -1px -1px 2px rgba(255,255,255.25);

}

.actions label.disabled {

background: #222;

box-shadow: none;

}

ul.required-tags,

.bookmark .status span,

.blurb .icon {

opacity: 0.9;

border: 0;

}

#outer .group .heading,

#header .actions a,

fieldset.listbox .heading,

.userstuff .heading {

text-shadow: none;

color: #DEB887;

background: none;

}

#header .actions a,

fieldset fieldset,

.mce-container button,

.filters .expander,

.actions .disabled select {

box-shadow: none;

}

fieldset fieldset.listbox {

outline: none;

}

form dd.required {

color: #eee;

}

.mce-container input:focus {

background: #F3EFEC;

}

.announcement .userstuff a,

.announcement .userstuff a:link,

.announcement .userstuff a:visited:hover {

color: #111;

}

.announcement .userstuff a:visited {

color: #666;

}

.announcement .userstuff a:hover,

.announcement .userstuff a:focus {

color: #999;

}

.event.announcement .userstuff a,

.filters .expander {

color: #eee;

}

[mamadarama]

651 - mayoi would have the type of luck to end up with 666 as his security code