#discarding of him .. maybe used his power to force him to tell him whats going on instead?

[obihoe]

just realized that when hashirama tells his and madara's story - including the bit about madara telling him about the writing on the uchiha monument - the uchiha monument is actually right there next to them? madara told him that he could decipher the writing using his ocular powers which im thinking means that u need EMS cuz madara was the first one to obtain them .. sasuke has EMS too and he demonstrates that at some point to everyone there. why didnt anyone think about whether he might be able to read the writing w them?

hashirama at this point - with exception of the few hints that he got from madara - has no clue what the writing says but he does know that it had smth to do with madara leaving the village and when sasuke and orochimaru later tell him that madara has been resurrected and plans to trap everyone in his infinite tsukuyomi .. why wouldnt he connect the dots and realize that maybe thats what he meant back then with his "real dream"? wasnt he curious to find out more specifics? cuz orochimaru and sasuke just say that he wants to control everyone, kill everyone, cause the world to go under etc. and bc they dont know madara thats enough of an explanation for them. but hashirama has much more intimate knowledge of him, he still regards him a fundamentally kind man, refers to him as his gift from the divine, says that he looks forward to reconnecting with him etc. etc. so surely he must have wondered whether there isnt a little more to the infinite tsukuyomi than just world domination for world domination's sake? and the monument was right there, if sasuke had turned out to be able to read it, they couldve gotten a better understanding of it. even without hashirama's perspective on madara as a person - the writing could have had crucial information on how to stop him. so why didnt anyone think about having sasuke try and read it?

[collieii]

one line in trimax that's always stuck with me is from chapter 65, right after wolfwood's death. when vash is sticking the punisher by his grave and he says "it was part of his life". that phrasing is so interesting to me. the neutrality of it is one thing that gets me, i think. it was part of his life. for better or worse, whatever it was, the punisher was wolfwood's.

It's pretty easy to think that the punisher might represent violence, the eye of michael, the role of assassin that was forced onto wolfwood, the loss of childhood. but it's not really presented that way, not overtly anyways. we never see wolfwood shun the punisher, he's not conflicted by his use of it. he never considers abandoning it for some other weapon. it's his weapon. he doesn't discard it when he eventually decides to take a more vash-like approach and actually let people live. he pretty easily accepts it as his own, a tool he can use. (to be fair, at least part of that is probably because the punisher is a very good gun.)

the punisher can still represent the harsher aspects of wolfwood's character, the violence he's committed, that he's capable of. that's an important part of his life! and the idea of it as representative of his violent adolescence, childhood that was stripped away, goes along with this - it's literally a cross to bear. but besides showing his past as a burden, i think of the punisher as being a cross of responsibility. when you have a gun you have power, agency - you have a responsibility to make a choice. that's what wolfwood tells vash in chapter 4.

the ability to take a life, the burden of it, is literally his cross to bear. that ability - and that responsibility - was given to him by the eom, literally in terms of the gun, and in terms of his skills. but the eye doesn't think twice about killing people. for them it's not really a choice, a responsibility, it's just a given. but wolfwood can't accept that. he's constantly considering the choices he makes.

so the punisher isn't only a symbol of the eye of michael, of the path that he was forced onto. it's also a way of expressing autonomy. the eye gave wolfwood the gun, but he decides how to use it and what it means. for much of the story wolfwood struggles to decide what to do, he's a very conflicted character. but eventually he resolves to use it against chapel, against knives, to help vash, and protect the orphanage. the gun gives him agency.

so the punisher was part of his life. it was the tool that he used to commit acts of violence, acts that he was forced into, but also the tool he used to break free.

it's heavy for vash, too. he's not exempt from that idea, the idea of responsibility. as wolfwood said much earlier in the story, vash has always been able to sidestep the question of "what do i choose?", because he's only ever given himself one option - everybody lives. and he's always succeeded. but as wolfwood says, "the day will come when you'll have to choose". one day, it's not going to work.

and of course the story progresses, the stakes ramp up, and vash learns more, goes through more, and is pushed to his limits. i think by this point, by wolfwood's death, and maybe because of it, vash has realized that he might have to make that difficult choice in the near future. that's one reason why he wants to "do him proud". he has a lot of reasons to say this of course - to not let wolfwood's sacrifice go to waste, for example. but if we're thinking of the cross as responsibility, then vash is saying he doesn't want to forget the lessons he learned because of wolfwood. wolfwood has always grappled with responsibility, with what the right thing to do is. and the right thing is often not easy. vash hopes that when the times comes for him to make a choice, he'll make a good one, one that does right by wolfwood's memory.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Something I love about BG1+2 is how it simultaneously plays and subverts the demigod/chosen one narrative (which continues in BG3, except with only the subversion. (And Halsin is not joking when Durge tells him what they are: Do NOT advertise that you're a Bhaalspawn.))

I've always been fond of the set up in Saradush in ToB, where the surviving children of Bhaal are being corralled into the besieged city under promise of protection against the entire world - because basically literally the entire world is trying to kill the Bhaalspawn: Your more powerful siblings want you dead; your mortal neighbours, and likely your nation itself either thinks you're inherently evil and are ready to kill you, or you represent such a threat that they're ready to drive you out and/or kill you just in case. Case in point: the aforementioned siege outside the city walls with the army that wants you dead currently raining giant flaming rocks of death over your head.

Some of these guys have no idea what they are, or what's happening, until attempted murder happens.

Like this discussion with one of your random brothers, a guy called Alexander:

Alexander: "You don't look like one of the locals. Are you a child of Bhaal as well, lured here like the rest of us to face our inevitable end?" Charname: "As well? What do you mean?" Alexander: "I myself am one of Bhaal's progeny - or so I've been told. I guess Bhaal's blood runs thicker in some of his children than in others." Sarevok: "By your snivelling manners, I would say Bhaal's blood runs very thin indeed in your veins. Bah-why do I even waste my breath tormenting this cowering cur?" Alexander: "Uh... is there anything else I can help you with?" Charname: "How did you get here exactly?" Alexander: "I wasn't brought here by Melissan, like some of the others. My home village was burned to the ground by a dragon who claimed to be hunting me. My friends... my family... they threatened to give me to the dragon if I didn't leave. So I did. And I heard a lot of other Bhaalspawn were coming here. *sigh* Now I almost wish I hadn't come."

Spoiler alert: He dies. Every single Bhaalspawn in that city dies*, along with everybody except a handful of commoners (*except maybe Viekang, who was not particularly inclined to murder me, so Murder in Baldur's Gate is weird.)

You, a simple peasant from a farming village one day come of age and learn that your absent father was a god, and you are forced to flee forces that are trying to kill you (in this case, your much more powerful half-brother)... it sounds like the start to some kind of fantasy epic, but instead of any fancy destiny you end up in a war torn city surrounded by castoff divine bastards just like you, terrified and unwanted, and then you die, and are forgotten.

And that's what being a Bhaalspawn is!

Whatever grand lies Bhaal tells you in your dreams about how you're special and great power awaits you (if you behave and do his will), your job is: sow death, faith, fear and chaos wherever you roam, strengthen Bhaal's power, and then be a good child and die for Father. No exceptions, save perhaps one, who is explicitly a special prophecy child, and even then is supposed to be doomed by future FR canon because they're still Bhaal's "pawn". There's also Imoen, who might be spared simply by proximity to said prophecy child keeping her alive. Non-game "canon" screwed her over hard. (FR canon and I have a complicated relationship, it must be said. All copies of those books are to be ritualistically burned.)

idk where I'm going with this, I just love how bleak the situation in the city is. No grand destinies, only a discardable pawn to be used, abused and consumed.

...And also that part where Tethyr sends an army to kill you because obviously you are guilty of "crimes against [Tethyr] and, indeed, all of humanity!" by supposedly killing a whole city: They admit they can't prove it, but you're a child of murder, you were born guilty even if you didn't actively do anything.

No, really:

General Jamis Tombelthen: "You are guilty, [Charname]. Of this there is no doubt. And we will not risk your further endangerment of us all. You are a spawn of Bhaal and responsible for the destruction of the city of Saradush*. Your execution has been ordered, [Charname]. May the gods have mercy on your soul."

* I implore you to move with great urgency to intercept the Bhaalspawn before they can do any more damage. Whether or not they are responsible for what occurred in Saradush, we cannot allow them to continue and cannot afford the time for trial... - Tombelthen's orders, courtesy of the Queen of Tethyr

[carlyraejepsans]

> "Is the King... y'know..."

"How... big is this kingdom exactly?"

Sans considers the question for a moment.

"...eh. it's hard to tell at this point. hundreds? maybe a thousand subjects, but i wouldn't count on it. whoops, sorry. fans."

"That's all?"

"yup," he said, his distinctive lack of lips not preventing him from popping the letter, "used to be more, of course. this place was pretty crammed just a few years ago..."

He looked away for a moment, then back at you, face carefully blank, "but now we're not. lucky us, huh?"

You can feel something bigger than you bubbling under the surface of the conversation. You decide not to press your luck.

"Is everything like this around here?"

"like what?"

"You know..." You wriggle your hands, vaguely pointing at the discarded suit.

Sans gets your meaning, "sugar and spice and everything awful? heh, nah. not that mettaton isn't trying."

He scratches at the side of his skull.

"but it's just easier to focus on the capital. and the stuff immediately around it. new home, the core. hotland. anything past waterfall though, THAT'S where it gets tricky. it's, uh, not easy if you wanna build anything big over there. you better count on having help from the local folk. and those folks REALLY don't like change. specially the, uh, glittery, brainwashy brand."

"There's opposers to the king?" you ask, growing hopeful.

"sure thing. the further west you go, the less they like the guy. as a rule."

The thought doesn't half form in your mind before he snorts, again.

"yeah, uh, i wouldn't do that if i were you."

"What d—"

"you wanna leg it, don't you?" he interrupts you, "you're thinking "if the king wants me here, well, i should hide where they don't like the king". it's sound enough as far as plans go. but..."

He swirls the contents of his cup around once again.

"human SOULs are powerful stuff down here. it's just the sort of thing you'd want your hands on if you planned to, say, overthrow a king or something. heard they're plotting something big around snowdin, so i'd definitely avoid the area. although, you didn't hear it from me."

"...I don't get it," you say, "They're threatening the King. Shouldn't you do something? I thought you were his guard dog, or something."

"honorary. does it look like i have a tail? not that i'd let you check. but uh, yeah, pretty much. you're forgetting something, though..."

He takes a swig from the mug and winks.

"i'm REALLY bad at my job."

You don't respond. It would be funnier, you think, if you didn't know how false that was.

"I don't see the problem. If they want a human SOUL, I could help them—"

"yeah, no. SOULs are the kinda thing that's only useful when you're dead," Sans interrupts again. Seeing you deflate, he adds, "sorry."

You breathe in. Out again.

"You said the cave expands West, but it can't go on forever. What's at the other end?"

"nothing," he says plainly.

"Nothing?"

"nothing you're looking for, anyway. the..."

To your surprise, he falters. His eyes close for a second as his finger taps against ceramic.

"snowdin forest. that's as far as you can go. anything beyond that is off limits. magical seal: everything can come out, nothing can go back in. whatever's on the other side of the door is dead land, anyway."

"So you're saying you don't know?"

Sans looks up at you. For the first time, his mask of amiability cracks with annoyance.

"i'm saying you'll freeze to death before you can move that door a single inch. but you're free to get yourself dead if it makes ya happy."

You feel giddy, "Is there another entrance to the cave?"

"dunno."

"You don't know?"

"i don't care," he snaps. He takes a breath and leans back, forcing his pose to relax, "it wouldn't change anything for me. or anyone, for that matter, so. why bother?"

But you bother. The human in the photograph still smiles in your mind's eye.

"How do I get out of here?"

"the door," Sans says flatly, "i thought that was obvious, but considering how you came in—"

"How do you leave the Underground," you cut him off. You have no time for this.

Sans inspects your face for a moment, his momentary frustration from before scrubbed clean, in a perfect poker face.

He tips the mug to check that nothing is left in it, then drops it on the floor with a clunk.

-->

[mackeralsauce]

SLASHER AU - Plot Introduction

CW/TW for: descriptions of psychological horror, blood, gore, disturbing themes, etc. Basically, anything you might find in an 80s Slasher, or in Welcome Home's horror content.

The Backstory.

Wally Darling is a puppet whose origins are murky and not fully known. It is likely he was created to be used in a show, but that show never came to fruition and thus he was never brought to life. One hot summer night, he was found by a wandering kid, who discovered him discarded in the nearby woods. That kid ended up taking him back home and cleaning him up, bringing him to school the next day to show his friends. His friends were just as excited to see the new toy, and for the first time ever, Wally was being appreciated by others. This spark is what brought the puppet to life, although he did not reveal his living nature quite yet. Once the kid who discovered him brought him back home, Wally would sneak out of the house, trying to grasp his sentience.

Upon pondering his newfound existence, Wally realized a few things:

He quickly came to the realization that something was not right with his existence. He knew that he was supposed to be part of a show, and that in another universe, that had come to be. Due to this never happening, his existence is somewhat twisted and corrupted.

He has the ability to alter reality and time in some ways, the extent of which isn't truly known.

Although he couldn't exactly pinpoint why, he knew that his new friends were in some way supposed to be like him. Puppets. Yet they aren't, they're humans.

Still entirely new to this existence thing, and wanting to learn more, he used his powers to take on a human form much like his new friends. The next day at school, there was a new student introduced to the class: Wally Darling. He seemed to click almost instantly with the group that had found him prior. The group soon became childhood friends, and grew up together in the same neighborhood. Wally had used his abilities to fabricate an entire human backstory: a very successful father, a house just in the outskirts of town that no one had noticed prior, etc. No one had ever learned he was a puppet, and he had a feeling that telling them would end poorly.

As time went on, and the group of friends went to college together, Wally was becoming unable to rest. Why was the show cancelled? Why was he a puppet, but his friends human? What went wrong? It was driving him to near-madness. One day, he came up with a most brilliant idea...

If his friends are human when they aren't supposed to be, then why not turn them into puppets himself?

Of course, one doesn't simply just turn a person into a puppet. In order for a human to become a puppet, they have to be dead first. Then, their life essence can be transferred to a puppet vessel. It was a perfect plan! Or, it was to Wally, at the very least. Anyone with a sane mind could easily tell him this was a horrible idea. No one would willingly let their friend kill them! So Wally would have to be a bit forceful. Yet, every time he eliminated all of them, something would go wrong. When he would bring his friends back, they would be upset at him for what he did. Why wasn't it working?

Due to things never working out right, he would rewind time again and again. Perhaps the scenario was what was wrong, so he would change it up. Maybe it was the time, the place, the cause of death... He would try everything over and over just to see if it would work. The repetition of having to bring his friends to death over and over was making him desensitized to the idea of gore and bloodshed. As things kept happening, his methods got worse, and his state of mind more unstable. This is what led to the slasher-like gore-filled horror that is the Slasher AU. Will this group of 80s friends ever find peace, or will they keep experiencing horrors beyond their comprehension?

The Setting.

The AU takes place in the mid-to-late 80s. The fashion, trends, etc. generally fit that time period as a result. The location varies depending on the story, but most of them are at least close to the town that the characters live in. The majority of characters are human. There are living puppets, but most examples in history are either celebrities or the result of supernatural phenomena. It is unclear to the general public how a puppet is granted life.

The Characters.

The main characters started off as childhood friends. They grew close fast, partially due to all of them being made fun of for their own quirky traits that made them different than the rest of the class. Growing up together, they've become a sort of found-family, inseperable and sticking together in the face of everything that comes at them. As of the current time in the story, they are all college-age young adults.

Wally Darling: Wally, for as long as he can remember, has lived in the villa just off the outskirts of town. He was raised by his single father who happens to be a very successful businessman. Of course, this is what people think, at least. Everyone in the friend group knows one thing about Wally: he's the best friend you could possibly have, of course! He's always there to hang out with, give advice in a time of need, and lend something to a friend in need. Despite being socially savvy, his interests are often considered odd for his personality. He's much more into artistic endeavors, and has an especially unique interest in puppetry. Although his felt creations tend to scare others, he's actually quite a chicken! He hates horror movies and gets spooked easily. If you're looking for Wally, your best bet is to look for Barnaby. They're nearly inseperable! They often go out to hang, or even sleep over at each others' houses. You'll never find a better pair of best friends (and lovers)!

Barnaby B. Beagle: Barnaby was an orphan as a real young boy, but was taken in by a very kind Miss Beagle. It was tough raising him as it was hard for Miss Beagle to make ends meet. Despite the odds, she pushed through, wanting to give her son the best life she could. With a love for working on old cars and a penchant for jokes, Barns has grown to be quite the reliable guy. If you have a problem that needs fixing, he'll be there to help, and to share some of his mom's baked goods as well! He does struggle with a bit of a smoking problem, but only really indulges if he's stressed. If he isn't with Wally, you might find him digging around a junkyard for car scraps, or going to a car show at the local drive-in! If you're sitting in his car, you might be surprised by what plays on the radio: a mix of cheesy pop songs and glam metal! Barnaby's best friend (and lover as well) is Wally. The two stick together like glue, and are often found together. Wally has always been there to help Barnaby through the tough times, and Barnaby has always been willing to return the favor.

Julie Joyful: Julie's always out and about, often hanging out at the mall, or checking out nearby shops. When she's at home, its with her friends! She'll always invite the others over for an exciting sleepover. You ever have that friend that's always there to hype you up and help you stay safe? That's Julie. She'll fix your make-up, give you relationship advice, walk you home at night, etc. She's protective of her friends, and won't let anyone mess with them. She loves fashion and music, sure, but she also loves math and science quite a bit. She'll read up on various fields of study in her spare time out of curiosity. If that's not enough, she loves to rollerskate, and will go out skating with Eddie from time to time (she tries to get Frank to tag along, but he's scared of slipping up). Of course, you'll often find her with her bestie Frank. Despite appearing to be polar opposites, the two are great friends. They often talk about entomology and biology together. Julie has two girlfriends: Sally and Poppy. She loves them with all her heart and is always spoiling them at the mall. They have lots of sleepovers together where they talk about anything and everything on their minds, and share hobbies with one another.

Sally Starlet: Sally is never at home, but that's because her passion is for the stage! Her work in musicals and plays takes up much of her time, but the other time is for hanging out with friends. She's an important part of the local theatre scene. Film fanatic and born performer, Sally lives for the drama and lives for the fame. While she could live without it, she has to admit that she loves attention, specifically if it's earned by captivating an audience with a story. She loves to watch the newest movies with her pals. Just be warned, she'll pick it apart for all of its inconsistencies! She knows her stuff and won't hesitate to point out if an adaptation was done poorly. Sally also quite enjoys making papercrafts and playing board games. She hosts a game night every weekend and introduced the group to tabletop roleplay games. Due to her love of drama, you can always find out the latest news from her, whether good or bad. That doesn't mean she'll stand for ill-intentioned gossip though! Sally's closest gal-pals (and lovers!) are Julie and Poppy. She loves to rant to the two, and enjoys taking them on movie dates as well. She'll often express her love for them through story recommendations and similar.

Poppy Partridge: Poppy is a bit of a homebody. She rarely leaves the house unless accompanied by the others, often sticking to the kitchen or her room. She has an internship at the local bakery, so she'll often be found there as well, baking fresh pies and desserts. It takes a bit to warm up to Poppy. She struggles heavily with anxiety, and tends to be very shy as well. It's not that she dislikes company, but she's scared of upsetting people, so she avoids the difficulty of meeting new people to prevent that. Even though it takes time to earn her trust, she's quite the friend, often providing a warm hug to those who need it. She enjoys trying out new recipes to share with her closest buddies, but doesn't like using new cooking tech. She prefers to stick to the older tools left in her mother's cupboard. She also enjoys knitting and sewing, and is always eager to help a friend with a fashion disaster. Her wardrobe is always on top due to being able to make whatever kind of clothes she needs for the ocassion! Poppy is very close to Julie and Sally. The three are girlfriends, and often stick together. Poppy always helps Julie make new fashion pieces to wear out, and helps Sally with costumes for theatre productions. In return, the girls are always there to provide her a safe space and to comfort her when the going gets tough.

Frank Frankly: Frank is quite a studious young man, often staying pent-up in his room, only coming out to hang out with friends or eat. His dad often has to tell him to lighten up and live a little. He's proud of him, but really worries for his mental health. A bit genius, but also a bit paranoid, Frank is the group's thinker. He's good at scheduling hangouts, but will also tense up at anything even slightly a risk. Despite his stiff personality, they all love him the same and do all they can to help him loosen up. He spends a good chunk of time at the library reading up on insects, plant care, and local urban legends. Although he's always on edge, he's easily entranced with stories of cryptids and monsters. He likes the mystique behind it all and enjoys solving mysteries as well. Give him a puzzle, and he'll think it through within minutes. Despite this, there are still some things that he struggles to grasp, like jokes for instance. His best friend Julie is working on that with him. Frank's got a soft spot for his lovers, Eddie and Howdy. Although he's always so high-strung, his lovers help calm him down, bringing him a light-hearted laugh every now and then. He thoroughly enjoys reading Eddie's poetry, and helps Howdy with calculations at his job sometimes.

Eddie Dear: Eddie's house-life isn't too notable, he's got a loving parent who supports his life choices. However, he has quite the active work-life, often trying out different jobs when he has the chance. Of course, his main and most steady job is working as a mailman for the local area. While he seems big and intimidating, Eddie is one of the sweetest guys you can meet. He tried lots of things when he was in highschool (choir, band, football, the whole nine yards!) and hasn't quite stopped trying everything since, even in college. Although he gets overwhelmed easily by the amount of options in his life, he has an ambitious spark, one that pushes him to discover himself and live life to the fullest. Eddie's favorite things are quite a colorful variety. He loves to rock out to metal, write poetry and love stories, rollerskate at the rink, and dance with a partner! He's gotten picked on in the past for his softer interests, but his friends have stood up for him time and time again. Eddie is a big softie for Frank and Howdy, his two partners. He's always trying to deliver hand-written notes and gifts to the two. Whenver he gets startled by a bug, Frank will take care of it for him. Whenever he needs an ice-cold soda after work, Howdy's got his back.

Howdy Pillar: Howdy has a bit of a chaotic house life. Having quite a number of siblings and cousins, he doesn't get much time to himself at home. That's why you'll rarely find him there! He often will be found manning the family's bodega or hanging out with the others. Getting up bright and early every day, Howdy has one thing on his mind: success! He's a very optimistic fellow, although his mannerisms are more old-fashioned, almost as if he was born in the wrong generation. He likes older aesthetics and tends to speak like he came from an old film with mannerisms to match. Despite these oddities, he's a rather popular guy, likely due to the sheer positivity he radiates. He's been urged to try out sports in college, but never really clicked with them. What he really likes to do is hang ten and surf some waves at the beach. Sometimes, he'll also tag along with Barnaby to a car show now and again. Howdy is very close to Frank and Eddie, and the three are also lovers as well. He loves his two boyfriends with all his heart, and they're happy to have him as well! He'll often stay over at their houses to avoid having to come home after a long shift.

[chickenparm]

Reformatting (Scaramouche/f!Reader) pt. 2

this was written for @onesaltygoddess. thanks for coming to me with this dope idea! :^) this fic is based off the recent fan animations that you can watch here and some cyberpunk 2077 mixed in to flesh it out.

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AO3 Link Prev Part Next Part

Scaramouche/f!Reader - Cyberpunk AU 2,753 Words - SFW, future NSFW (Reader is a synthetic/android, NSFW tags will be on appropriate chapter)

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Scaramouche inhales sharply, eyes opening as he instinctively flinches back. 

Sifting through your memories to put them back together meant the occasional leaking of your data into his own. There’s no risk of mixing or damage to either of you, but he finds himself coming to learn an uncomfortable amount of information about their newcomer. 

“E-10…” He murmurs, pointing his palm to your collarbone to light up the designation inked beneath your synthetic skin. Replaced and tossed aside, forced to look that replacement in the eye as you’re discarded. There’s little room for fondness in him, but he does feel some sort of sympathy for your plight. 

Or maybe there is some kind of mixing happening that he’s not aware of. 

With a sigh, he pulls his hand back and looks to the screens hanging from his hat. That was the end of all recoverable memories - and from his estimation, it was all the important ones, at least. What’s left is to unscramble your core operating system and rebuild your ICE. Maybe a little stronger on that last one, considering how E-models aren’t known for their ironclad security. 

After all, what nefarious purpose could an E-10 model be used for? Spying, he supposes, but you’d be able to tell someone is rifling through your system before the intruder was able to get anywhere close to their objective. Then, it would be a matter of shutting yourself down temporarily to avoid it. 

Ei wanted to be here when you woke up, but for now he can at least finish the repairs and leave you in a powered-down state. Behind your ear, he finds your slot - newly installed by Ei. The previous one had been jammed with the very chip that destroyed you in the first place, and removal caused irreparable damage to the port. 

On his wrist, a slot of his own opens to reveal a little wire, and it extends to plug into that port. It lights up to signify the transfer of data, and he closes his eyes to focus on moving and installing your new operating system and security. It should be compatible with your hardware, more or less. 

In theory. 

Compared to the expression from your memories, you look far more serene when completely idle rather than the forced mask of contentment you’d been made to wear. Quietly, only to himself, he remarks that you look better this way. Unburdened, at least for a moment. 

And when you do lose that expression, he’s not going to bother being around to see it. The notification pops up at the corner of his vision that all systems are functioning optimally, and with that in mind, he calls Ei to finish this off. Scaramouche disconnects from you completely, withdrawing himself from behind your security protocols, and doesn’t spare another thought. 

---

When you awaken, it’s not to the smell of rancid oil and burning plastic. There’s a faint tang of ozone in the air, and your nose scrunches for a moment as you take a moment to categorize the few things you can make sense of. 

The bed is soft, but not overly so. The sheets are the right amount of scratchy, well worn from countless cleanings and regular use. Your mind works quickly, piecing together that you’re uninjured, that you’re clothed once more, that something feels… different. You’re oddly warm. 

Cracking open your eyes, you look to a wooden ceiling, and that in itself gives you pause. Wood isn’t a common material anymore, requiring trips to the surface to obtain. And the window is open, allowing a breeze inside that doesn’t smell like dirt and mildew and must. It’s… floral, almost, and upon further inspection, the warmth in your body is coming from the light shining on you through the open curtains. 

The sun.

Something is wrong. Pushing up onto your knees, you crawl closer to the window that your bed is pushed beneath and push it open more, leaning your head outside. In your mind everything is spiraling; piecing the series of events together in a surprisingly quick and cohesive way. It’s presented to you oddly, and you stare unseeing at the glowing ball of light in the sky as you realize you’re not the same as you once were.

Your fingertips dig at the ports behind your ear, feeling for the broken eject button meant to keep your employer’s chip safely inserted. But the shape of everything is all wrong - you’re meant to have two ports, not three. These ports are vertical from your ear, not horizontal as they’re meant to be. They’re slim and sleek, not bulky and visible. 

“You have Scaramouche to thank for that. And many other things.” A voice calls from behind you, and you nearly hit your head on the window when trying to drag yourself back inside. The woman stands at the closed door, her back pressed to it and a disarming little smile on her face. You’ve seen that expression before, but it’s never seemed so comforting. 

The woman takes a step forward, but not before reaching behind herself to flip the lock on the door. No one is getting in, but the room’s occupants could get out. Your shoulders relax, just a little, and her smile remains, if not a little bit wider. “You’re safe here. Safe, and free. How much do you remember?”

Free; what an interesting word. One that you thought of so often that it almost didn’t make sense as a concept. Who is truly free? You were bound by your origins, the chip, your employer. Your employer was bound by greed, the city below was trapped by prejudice and racism. 

And yet, had any of them felt the sun before? It beats against your back through the window, and your eyes shut for a moment as you just… feel. The sun, the wind, the softness of the bed beneath your knees. The ports behind your ear that are blissfully empty. Your mind runs more quickly and cleanly than it ever has. 

You are still yourself, but somehow in the span of time since you’d been wiped, you’ve become more. And you think you like it. 

Ei is her name, and she listens patiently as you walk her through the last memories you have of E-11 and how she’d held you as your body convulsed in her arms before going dormant for what you’d thought was the last time. Occasionally she’ll needle for other things, and you think she might be testing your memory. 

Your designated model number E-10, or the tenth version of the Entertainment doll line. Your name, the only one you’d been given. E-10 was all you knew, all you had. If somehow you had been given a name by your prior employer, or whoever created you, it’s been lost among the corrupted bits of your memory that even now you can’t salvage. 

It’s common knowledge what E-10s are skilled in, but Ei asks you anyway, like she’s inquiring about another human’s talents. Something in your chest tightens, your cheeks burn and your eyes grow watery as you lay it out in a way that doesn’t seem as if it’s been read from an owner’s manual. 

A few names are thrown around. Raiden, the one who saved you and was created by Ei. Albedo, an L-13 model that is not under the control of the corporations and governing bodies. And Scaramouche, another of Ei’s creations and the one who pieced your mind back together after it had been crudely mishandled. 

Unlike the others, you don’t see hide nor hair of Scaramouche. 

At first, Ei’s only request is that you recover. That you come to terms with where you are and who you are, now that you’re not under the shadow of another. It’s difficult at first, and you find yourself struggling with agency and independence when there’s no longer someone to dictate everything about your life. 

But you acclimate. You learn. You’re given an electronic keyboard to play music if you’d like, but no one demands it of you. Somehow, you enjoy it more when it’s a secret little sound for yourself. Raiden visits and brings you little flash drives of reading resources and materials to create art if you so choose. 

And when all of that has become something less tainted with the memories of your life before, you finally have the time and mental capacity to be angry.

It’s a new emotion for you, one that you don’t know what to do with beyond pacing your room and tugging at the hem of your shirt until it begins to fray. Ei, ever practical, has a solution for this as well. One morning after a night of restlessness, Raiden takes you to what amounts to a training room, and she asks you to hit her. 

You do, and she lets you, and you end up hurting yourself far more than you hurt her. But she doesn’t laugh at you for it, nor does she belittle you, but instead she dedicates her spare time to teaching you to mold anger into something more useful. How to curl your fist and follow through on a punch, the best way to break from a chokehold. 

Eyes are on you, but you’re never quite sure from where. Sometimes it’s a distraction - times like now when you’re using one of Raiden’s spears to spar with her, dodging and dipping between her lightning-fast attacks, never quite trading blows. The spear acts as a base, one that you can plant firmly into the mat below and swing yourself around it for a quick kick that doesn’t connect. 

Landing leaves you vulnerable, and her palm pushes between your ribs with enough force to knock you to the floor below. The wind is taken from your lungs, just for a second, and you stare at the ceiling and try to catch your breath. 

“You’re getting better,” Raiden says, squatting next to you to lift your shirt and examine the mark that’s surely going to bruise, “we’ll keep at it. Don’t worry.”

It’s hard not to. And you tell her this, but she only gives a sympathetic smile in return and tells you that your ribs aren’t damaged at all. Training is done for the day, and despite her offer to help you up, you wave her away and decide that your place is right here for now. Flat on the training mat, looking up at the dusty wooden rafters and wondering what sort of tree that they were made of. 

There’s a tree outside the sliding doors to the courtyard. A big thing that looks like it’s ancient, with leaves on long hanging strings that nearly brush the ground. If you go inside, you think it would block out the rest of the world, and that sounds awfully nice sometimes. You’re getting better in more than just fighting, but sometimes it doesn’t quite feel that way. 

Somewhere above your head where you’re laying, the door to the room opens and the newcomer freezes. Then, in a voice you don’t quite recognize, “You’re still here.”

“Still here.” You confirm, craning your head back to look at them upside down. Immediately, you already know this must be Scaramouche. The similarities between himself, Ei, and Raiden are impossible to ignore. Maybe his hair is a little darker, and his eyes a different color, but the features are close enough that you’d be a fool to miss them. 

The door slides shut behind him, and with completely silent steps, he enters the room with you. Stopping near your head, he looks down his nose at you and finally says, “Raiden said you’re making progress. Doesn’t seem like it.”

“If you’re doing something right, then it doesn’t look like you’re doing anything at all.”

“Mhm,” He crosses his arms, expression carefully neutral but you’d be remiss to not catch the air of derision. Vaguely, you wonder what you’ve done to offend him so, but never voice it with how he continues, “What do you hope to accomplish? E-10s aren’t built for combat, not like an L-13. Raiden is sparring with you as if you are a child.”

“I’m just trying to be helpful-”

“Helpful. Right.” 

Lips turned in a scowl, you look up at him. And he looks down at you, and not for the first time, you’re unsure how to navigate this. So you do what you’ve been doing and just ask. “So what should I do, then? If I’m a fuck-up at fighting, then why don’t you teach me something valuable. Mr. Know-It-All.”

“And waste my time? Sure, because I have plenty of that to spare. Get real.”

God, he’s rude, but you push yourself to sit up, then up onto your knees as you level him with the same stare you’d given Raiden when asking to learn what she knows. “It’s not a waste. Try me. You’ll see. Unless you think you’re not good enough to be a teacher.”

Scaramouche’s eye twitches, his hands tighten against his arms in their crossed position, and you know you’ve won the first battle.

[pancake-breakfast]

Alright, let's finish this up now before I have to read JJK's next chapter and be sad about that, too. Trigun Maximum Sadness.

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 14, Chapters 7-8 below.

Chapter 7: Twin Wings

You know... Rem does indeed resemble Meryl here.

Yeah, explosions are noisy....

I feel like Orange took inspiration from this chapter's name for their big showdown in the final episode of Stampede.

Also also! Note they're both technically missing an arm at this point. And it's the opposite arm.

I'm honestly surprised Knives took the time to give himself some sort of Plant pants. I didn't think he cared that much. This is a seinen. They've had plenty of vags. I'm sure they could have got away with some dick.

I love how this page focuses on Knives' plant abilities, and on Vash's bullets.

Ha! Barefoot Knives! This is where Orange got that, too!

Ohhhhh, Knives' hair's all dark now, too. He burned a lot of energy regenerating his body, didn't he?

Cool sword, though. Of course he'd bring a knive to a gunfight.

"Everyone has abandoned me." Honey, you kind of forced your Plant sibs to join up with you, and you discarded the loyalties of the humans who followed you as worthless (especially Legato). Things might have turned out different if you'd approached all of that differently.

You know what they say: pride comes before the fall.

Dammit, Knives! This doesn't have to end in your death! You sound like freaking Legato! Seriously, man. You really should have spent some time getting to know and nurturing that boy. You guys could have learned so much from each other. And if you are gonna go all suicidal on this, for the love of God, don't force your brother to land the killing blow! There's a very important difference between going into a fight expecting to die and going into a fight hoping the other person will kill you.

Gratuitous Knives chest shot.

Knives lost to a one-armed Vash in a close-combat situation where Knives had a blade and Vash had a gun. That says a lot about the difference in their fighting abilities.

Ugh, Knives looks so sad now that Vash has a gun at his head. This isn't how he wanted things, and he's only now realizing maybe he could have done things differently.

But of course Vash doesn't pull the trigger.

Chronica?!?!

Vash is using his last bullet to save them both... and everyone below them, likely.

Ugh, looks like the power cost is maybe too much for Vash.

And Chronica's down.

Vash's angel wings!!! He's gotta save his brother!

Yeah, Vash just can't anymore. He's spent.

OMG THIS PANEL. Them flying (gliding?) using both their wings, so tangled up in each other it's hard to tell them apart, trying to save each other.

Dang, Chronica's determined.

Wait, what exploded behind her?

Livio?!? Gotta be him with that hat and cape. And Nightow suddenly drawing him in twink form again.

I doubt Chronica expected any of the humans of this place to try and save Knives.

I mean, if you're gonna have someone go after a Plant, I don't know that there's any human left alive more qualified than Livio. And he's bringing his full charm to the table, too.

Have I mentioned recently that I love Livio? I love Livio.

WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE?!?! WHAT IS HAPPENING??!?!?!

HE LITIERALLY TURNS TO LOOK OVER HIS SHOULDER TO TRY AND FIND WOLFWOOD WHAT IS HAPPENING!?!?!?

Crybaby Livio.... <3 He knows he only has the chance to be here doing all this because of Wolfwood. He'll never forget that. It's etched in his soul.

Chapter 8: Never Ending Song

Last chapter last chapter last chapter last chapter last chapter...

Half a year?!?! Dude, Vash was supposed to come back to Meryl!

These Earth Fleet tank things remind me of the tachicoma from Ghost in the Shell.

Awww, Vashie.... His hair is sooooo dark....

Looks like the Earth Fleet is gonna help the people on No Man's Land thrive after all. Wasn't sure if this was just gonna turn into an evacuation run or what.

Dude, you can't tell Vash not to get all weepy. He's the type who cries (although I do think TriMax Vash is WAY less weepy than '98 Vash). Let him cry, if he needs.

Hahahahahaha, can you imagine? The world's #1 most dangerous terrorist, known for wanting to genocide your race, shows up on your doorstep dragging along his brother, who the news says is the #1 best chance you have at survival, and begs you to help him. At that point, I guess you'd just kinda go with it because literally what else can you do? Maybe the terrorist will change his mind halfway through or kill you later for not doing a good enough job or who even knows, but it's not like you're in any position to argue right then and there.

Oh, this man's a doctor, even.

OH HE DOESN'T KNOW VASH IS A PLANT.

Wow. Just... wow. I'd heard that Knives got appled, but... I don't know what I was expecting. Definitely not that he used what little of himself he had left to terraform part of No Man's Land so he could nurture the people whose destruction he'd spent 150 years plotting, the same people his brother loved so much and couldn't possibly help in this way because that same brother had to save all his power to defend all these people from Knives. Gods, what they could have done if this is where they had started, even crashing on a world as desolate as this. It's such a small gesture, not nearly enough to sustain a population. But it's so, so important. I'm tearing up over here.

Logic brain needs to shut the hell up with its talk about how the people probably don't know enough about actual plants to keep the tree healthy and thriving. Let me have this moment, logic brain.

Geez, I just realized they were hiding Vash in a secret underground safe room.

I don't know if Vash is physically capable of living a quiet life... but it's good that someone told him he should, and that he's done enough and then even more than that.

What the hell, Earth Forces? First off, it was you guys who sent a group down to Earth being like, "Vash is probably our last hope!" so why are you hunting him like this?? Second off, I get you being panicky about Knives, but it seems like you're not considering the human element here at all. Third off, lying about your time frame and then whipping out your guns is not a good way to win allies. Fourth off, didn't your oh-so-amazing intel let you know that the only people here aside from supposed Knives and Vash were an old doctor and his kid??

Yyyyeeeaaaahh, I see Vash's commitment to a quiet life has lasted about as long as his morning meditation does.

What a freaking gremlin. Shooting his gun into the air and causing a scene. Playing to his strengths, I guess. Really, though, I know he's doing it just the way he did before, with intention to save the most people even if it's at possible cost to himself. He's still Vash the Stampede. Nothing's gonna change that, and I mean that in the best way.

Hahahahaha, he's still crying about it.

LOL, he wants to get a fake beard. Is it 'cause it took him TWO FREAKING YEARS to grow his Eriks stubble???

Nightow, what the heck. You just HAD to get some more crazy bounty hunters in before the end, didn't you?

LOL, "dickless earthlings."

Aaaaand now they're all too busy fighting each other to bother with Vash.

Uh. Is that Meryl's boot? IS THAT MERYL'S SKIRT?!?!

YES IT'S MERYL!!! AND ALSO MILLY!!! Vash looks so relieved.

Meryl, on the other hand, looks like she's going to slap him. He'd deserve it.

And he's getting appropriately dressed down instead. This is reasonable punishment. Be ashamed, Vash. You should be.

I like how all the bounty hunters and such are just standing there in the background, watching. They're like, "We come in guns blazing, and this tiny woman says a few words and has him groveling on his knees. Who even is she??"

They're fighting back to back with him. THEY'RE FIGHTING BACK TO BACK WITH HIM JUST LIKE WOLFWOOD DID!!! They're all gonna go home together!!!

LOL, Meryl replacing her derringers with microphones. Ain't no one needing that many mics, lady. And Milly having a camera instead of her stun gun.

Fucking hell. They got me all excited that they were gonna fight at his back and now they're just interviewing him while fifty billion people stand by and watch in shock. I'm honestly a little mad at the girls for this.

I love this little song of Vash's, though.

"Stay tuned for wardrobe malfunctions, too!" LOLOLOL, girls, please let him keep his coat on. He's self-conscious about his scars.

I mean, all things considered, this is a great way to stop him from being hunted. They know him better than most, and getting the word out about him in a way that alleviates anyone's potential fear of him would help build a lot of bridges.

He looks less than thrilled to be interviewed, though.

Hahahahaha, I love this shout-out to so many of the characters who came through the story. We have Mr. Dynamite Neon and his goons, and Lina and the hamsters man that Vash told to protect the village, and the old couple with a geoplant and their son, and...

LIVIO GREW HIS HAIR BACK OUT AL;JSDF;AJD;LSFALJ;A

Ahhhhh, it looks like he's working at the orphanage, too! He looks so good and so happy and just... I'm so happy for him. <3 <3 <3

LOL, shout out to the Nebraskas in all their terribleness.

They're all watching him run away on live TV now. Even Chronica.

This color spread.... His hair might be black, but... but he looks so happy, even if he's running away again. Like he's in his element in the best way he ever could be.

Aaaand everyone's just chasing right after him.

I love how happy Milly looks about all this, too.

Now I'm full of warm fluffies, so if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna bask in them for a bit.

Chapter Archive

Trigun Vol. 1: Covers + 1-3, 4, 5-6, 7-8, 9-10 || Vol. 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Vol. 1: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7 || Vol. 3: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-7 || Vol. 4: Covers + 1-2, 3-5, 6-7 || Vol. 5: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 6: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6

Archive Intermission for Weird Tumblr Formatting Reasons!

Vol. 7: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 8: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5 + Bonus || Vol. 9: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 10: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-8 || Vol. 11: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 5-6 || Vol. 12: Covers + 1-3, 4-6, 7-9 || Vol. 13: Covers + 1-3, 4-6, 7-9 || Vol. 14: Covers + 1-3, 4-6, 7-8 (here)

Extra Credit Archive

Trigun Vol. 1: Nebraska vs. Vash's Motivations, Vash's Loneliness, Vash's Depression (pt. 2 of post), Soupy Brains || Vol. 2: Coin Factoids || TriMax Vol. 1: Lina, Vash, and a Haircut || Meryl, Vash, and the Pursuit of Happiness || Vol. 5: Knives, Vash, and Hatred for Humanity || Vol. 6: Coping Series: Wolfwood, Meryl, Vash || Vol. 8: The Uncoordinated Counterattack || Vol. 9: Justice, Punishment, and Mercy, The Tolling of an Iron Bell || Vol. 10: Crucifixion Symbology (pt. 2 of post), Merging of Families, Being Childlike (And Why God Hates Chapel) || Vol. 11: New Hair, New Outlook

[indireneedofsleeeep]

Here comes (finally) that Dreamling Aladdin AU I’ve been talking about. There’s more to come but hey, have this beginning 😊

A long, long time ago, Dream lost a game. The name of the game matters little, unlike that of his opponent. Lucifer Morningstar, the fallen angel, was mighty, proud and resentful. As winner, it was their privilege to decide what forfeit had to be paid. They didn’t hold back. Dream was trapped in a lamp, never allowed to leave its small and cramped space unless he had been summoned by the lamp’s current owner. Dream’s owner. His “Master” as he has to call them. Because whoever owns the lamp is granted power over him: they get to voice three wishes, and Dream has no choice but to grant them, making the lamp a much coveted objet...

For years, the lamp passed from hand to to hand, forcing Dream to grant wishes after wishes. Some rather altruistic, other purely egoistical, and every shades in between. There were men who thanked him, other who blamed him for the unforeseen consequences of poorly thought requests, but, all in all, most of them didn’t care enough to think much of him at all. After all, what was he but a tool, meant to serve and then be discarded?

Then, one day, the lamp was lost. Buried in a secret place by some jealous owner who died before they made use of the last wish they kept for “later”. People looked for it for a while, but to no avail, and, eventually, the lamp became a legend. A made-up tale that only fools would lose time searching for.

Now, Roderick Burgess certainly doesn’t consider himself a fool, but he is set on finding that legendary lamp and put it to good use. Better than that actually: after years of long and tedious research, he thinks he knows where it has been hidden.

Of course, he won’t retrieve it himself. The cave he located is dark, deep and,    in all likelihood, protected by magic, and Burgess fears magic almost as much as craves for it. So he hires someone - some drunkard he found in a tavern - to do the Job for him.

That’s how Robert - Hob - Gadling finds himself in the bowels of a strange, humid and stinky cave looking for some old lamp some old guy paid him to bring back. Has the magic gone old or had the last owner of the lamp been too stingy to waste any magic on its protection? Either way, Hob doesn’t encounter any major difficulties. He does dirty his clothes beyond repair and bumps his head a few times on the cave’s low ceiling but he finds the lamp and is quick to climb back to the surface, where Burgess is impatiently waiting for him with his two most trusted henchmen.

For the thing is, Burgess doesn’t intend on leaving witnesses. The world has forgotten about the lamp and he likes it that way. It’s ironic  somehow: in that tavern, that Gadling guy had been bragging, telling anyone who would listen how he was never going to die, as if he could simply decide not to. Maybe that’s why Burgess chose him. The man was fearless, and enough of a fool to accept such a strange mission from a stranger.

But Hob Gadling may not be as much of a fool as Burgess assumes. No, he hasn’t seen the knives hidden under the henchmen's coats. But the knives won’t come into play before the lamp is placed inside Burgess’ hands. And, well, Hob doesn’t intend on giving it to Burgess...

See, Hob is not a thief, but he isn’t against a little robbery every once in a while. And, although he doesn’t see what Lord Burgess can find in that dusty old thing, he probably isn’t the only one looking for it. Who knows if some other rich prick won’t pay him twice the price Burgess agreed on? He could even make them compete, have them raise the bids until they reach this lamp’s true value!

With that in mind that, Hob emerges from the hole in the ground, the lamp safely tucked in his jacket’s inner pocket. Burgess is eager, his eyes hungry. “Has he found the lamp?” “Has he brought it back?” “Can he show it to him?” Hob gets up and brushes some dirt off his clothes before offering a partial answer. Yes he found it, he says, for he knows the man needs to be reassured. But, he adds, there have been some complications...

Carefully, Hob takes one, two steps, not directly towards Burgess, but slightly sideways. He’s been observing their surroundings on their way here, and he knows exactly which way to go. Burgess’ minions are watching him suspiciously, knowingly, but it’s alright. They are tall, burly, and look intimidating in their matching suits, but Hob knows how to fight, and he should be able to take them down - maybe he won’t even have to if he manages to outrun them and slip away into the night.

He’s about to break into a sprint when a solid form crashes into him, almost knocking him off his feet, and he realises his mistake. Focused on the henchmen, he omitted to pay attention to Burgess himself. The old man moves fast - faster than Hob could have anticipated - and his greed makes him stronger than he should be. His grabby hands are searching, threatening to tear Hob’s clothes appart to get to the lamp Hob must be hiding somewhere.

Hob reacts on instinct, stepping backwards to get out of the man’s reach. He trips on the edge of the cave’s entrance and falls straight into it, bringing a shower of rock in his wake.

(part 2)

[yoyomindloops]

This post won’t have a title. But I’ve been seeing some peeps in the community post their hypnosis journeys.

I got into hypnosis about ten years ago when I was 21 years old. Long story short - I fell off a wall which led to chronic pain and me watching YouTube meditation videos to push past pain so I could walk and be a normal young adult. One night, the algorithm led to a hand free orgasm while I fell asleep to it and I guess you could call that my spring awakening.

I was hooked ever since.

Couldn’t get enough of it. I watched video after video until maybe around 26 where I found the chat rooms. Interacting with a living person was another game changer. They responded to my cues as it happened.

That became a slippery slope. There was one hypnotist who implanted a trigger in my head - a secretary who would inform him how to drop me deeper and tell him things that would keep me down when I would try to stay awake. That was the root - other triggers were seeing the … of someone typing and he’d take me under at work. I’d wake up at random places outside and inside my house with no memory. When I couldn’t remember how I got at this five guys - I decided I was done. I watched meditation videos for weeks and reminded myself i was always in control.

They asked for pictures. They asked for video. Everytime i gave - everytime I was degraded. When photos of me were used to bring me down from a tist I hadn’t interacted with before I was done with sharing anything personal about me there.

So I tried being a hypnotist and playing the game. It was fun at first. The jerks that would try to take me under and request pictures of my boobies…I would wake up and then take them under, plant triggers that when they became jerks and pushed passed someone’s no they would be mindless drones waiting to be commanded. Not going to lie - great power trip - and I felt control in a controlless situation. I would do private trances too.

Then came a sub that broke that for me. I think I was broken in a lot of ways and it was just the catalyst. This was his third or fourth session. While under he told me how much he hated his wife because of me and it was only me.

I just broke down and cried.

I saw this faceless woman being discarded like nothing over words on a screen and it brought back all the feelings I felt discarded after sessions of bad experiences. I woke him up and told him I didn’t want to break his mind like that.

He was insistent. Down right aggressive to go blank for me and I haven’t really been ok with dropping individuals after that.

I still loved trance and I still loved inductions - I hated how I felt at the end of them.

Which eventually led me here. I could write fantasies to my hearts content without hurting someone or getting hurt. Not to toot horns but I do a good job at what I do here.

Here are the important notes from my experiences:

1. No matter what anyone tells you - you are always in control as the sub. It is a gift - not a right - that you give someone opening your mind for them to play with. If they can’t be nice and respectful to what you need from them then they don’t deserve to play. It’s on them - not you - that they can’t figure out consent. You are the temple and you will be respected. (Doesn’t mean don’t go wild for your fantasies consent is consent and go live your nasty selves ;) )

2. Just like in real world when you tell people in the community you’ve been taken advantage of - you will not be believed. You will be labeled crazy, a stubborn sub, faking while dropping, and more. Moderators ignore you writing you off as the problem. They do not care - they will not help you. When you break down and cry remember rule one.

3. If you are a hypnotist, you are not a blank making toy demanding subs try to force on you. There are gonna be needy folks that will bombard you - demand you - to take them down and enslave them. They are just as bad as the greedy tists that don’t listen to subs. A hypnotist spends a lot of time and energy to drop someone. They deserve respect, too. They also have boundaries too. They also have lives outside the sites and what have you that they can’t be at your beck and call to wipe your mind blank. You can say no as a hypnotist - your time is your time

I probably shared too much. Thank you everyone for enjoying my trancy randomness from time to time and I hope a peak behind the curtains of Ms. Yoyo. Be safe, practice safely, and always be kind to yourself along your journey.

[theniftycat]

Angels, Demons, and the Inevitable

A Good Omens Analysis done by an atheist who’s kinda invested in Christianity. Avaunt if it might make you uncomfortable.

Themes, through lines, and tendencies - Part 2

Parts: 1, 2, 3.1, 3.2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

As the second episodes starts, we see angels entering Aziraphale's shop.

Gabriel has no idea what books are. He's the Supreme Archangel and for the past 6000 years he's been working on this little project called "the Earth", but it wasn't enough time for him to get acquainted with it. See, he's been very busy, overseeing stuff like, like... uh... obedience of the angels? Celestial hierarchy working like a well oiled machine? Besides, books have only been around for like a 1000 years! It's so hard to keep up!

We're also properly introduced to Sandalphon, he looks like your least favourite coworker and he's known for a lot of smiting. Just a decent guy all around.

Angels come to Aziraphale to ask him about the Antichrist's birthday and him getting the Hellhound, but they hardly even do that because everything's going according to the Plan, how else can it go?

Meanwhile, Crowley is met with the opposite attitude from Hell. They assert that Armageddon will happen as smoothly as possible because everything's already been arranged. And it's a threat.

Crowley doesn't feel like a proper demon. His personality never fundamentally changed, he just became a demon because there were only two options.

Then we move on to Agnes Nutter, she predicted everything up to the Armageddon, but she couldn't predict the time of her death exactly.

Agnes, being a witch, is an agent of chaos. She's not interested in Heaven or Hell, she embraces humanity with all of its sides. Her goal is to prevent the end of the world, but...

With everything she predicts being foreseeable, where does the knowledge come from? Is everything truly written if it can be literally written down in a book?

She's not willing to go down without a fight, too. She wants humanity to survive, but she's okay with killing those who came to kill her. Truly, a human incarnate.

Her prophecies only apply to things directly connected to her descendants, and maybe, maybe that's actually the main thing she cared for. She just wanted them to live happy lives, that's why she paved the way for them. And it has nothing to do with higher powers.

It seems that Crowley spends most of his free time sitting in his throne, moping. We get a glimpse of him being angry at himself for misplacing the Antichrist. If he did it right, he could easily get rid of him, but alas.

Bold of God to tell us what Crowley wants to achieve with his plants. Discarding them after finding a single flaw? Making an example of the imperfect ones? Ensuring that fear is their main motivation? Very bold of God to tell us all of that.

Crowley is very fast to disperse responsibility for something he did. Just because otherwise he'd blame himself too much.

Aziraphale can feel that Tadfield is loved because he has allowed himself to embrace this feeling. He allows himself to love things and it brings him joy. He loves small things, big things, all kind of things, and he gives into this feeling. He knows what loving is.

For example, he loves his coat. And apparently, he's been taking care of it by human means because he doesn't want to miracle the stain away, it wouldn't feel real. Now, when Crowley does it, it's fine. External forces stained his coat, external forces cleaned it. It's almost like nothing even happened!

Aziraphale then says that guns in good hands are good, actually. Again, violence is acceptable if it's for the greater good.

It doesn't make that much sense to Crowley though.

He turns paintball guns into real guns because for him there's no much difference between pretend violence and real violence. Why would they play war if war is awful? That will show them.

And people do use this right. They shoot at each other despite figuring out that the guns are real.

Crowley wants to make a point to Aziraphale that if you give people guns, they'll use them, but he doesn't want people to pay with their lives for that lesson. He wants them just, you know, to be scared, traumatised and arrested. Nothing wrong with that.

All that Aziraphale understands is that Crowley should be wanting to murder people, but he doesn't, and that makes him nice.

Crowley is a demon who's tired of being a demon. He'd like people to learn their lessons, but they never do.

Now, on a lighter note, Crowley doesn't immediately let go of Aziraphale, Aziraphale too doesn't feel the need to get freed asap. There's no fear in either of them when it comes to being in this situation.

Aziraphale is very attached to angels being the good guys.

Crowley really can't accept any more guilt in his life.

Aziraphale tends to Anathema and her bike while Crowley just wants to deny any responsibility and get away as soon as possible.

While "angel" is an accurate term that has good connotations, I can't help but feel that for Crowley it's a word of separation. "We're different," it says. "You're better than me."

Aziraphale thinks that humans work like angels and demons.

There is a lot to be said about Aziraphale hiding from Crowley the fact that he'd found Agnes Nutter's book. Distrust? Possessiveness? Wanting to take it to Heaven first? All of the above? He's a good angel right now, don't get me wrong, but at the moment he's also a bad friend.

___________________________________

This is the second part of my analysis. It’s based on the second episode. Further parts will follow, one per episode.

I haven’t reread the book for this, it’s based only on the show, so if you see any points that can be made differently based on the book, don’t fault me.

Parts: 1, 2, 3.1, 3.2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

[bohemian-nights]

Young Snow is definitely in my opinion still a budding psychopath (and narcissist) but isn’t completely unredeemable. It’d take a lot of self work for him to be a quote on quote “good person.” Especially since a lot of his actions (befriending sejanus and lucy) were rooted in the fact that it would bring him more power. Which is why I really liked the bit where Dean Highbottom tells him how convenient it is that he doesn’t have to choose between winning the money and saving Lucy (choosing between power or love). It also makes the scene where Sejanus dies even worse. Because in the books you get the feeling that Snow couldn’t care less about Sejanus. Whereas in the movie you can tell he cares about him. He snitches on him to Dr. Gaul but as he’s being executed Snow cries, showing he still has a bit of humanity and emotion in him. All in all he’s a really fascinating character in the way that he’s truly willing to do whatever it takes to remain in power (poisoning himself in order to poison others, killing children, and selling people into lives of forced prostitution) and that’s something that’s rare in a book. There’s no overly tragic backstory to somehow excuse his behavior, nor is there anyone forcing him into situations he’d rather not be in.

Full disclosure, outside of a couple of quotes I have not read any of the Hunger Games books so I can't comment on Snow's book characterization.

Although, I have heard that young book!Snow is a little bit more malicious than young movie!Snow(particularly with the Sejanus situation).

That being said I'm a firm believer that evil isn't born it’s made. Under different circumstances, Snow could’ve been better(if his grandmother wasn’t constantly reminding him that he had to live up to his father's name, and social pressure, or if Dr. Gual hadn’t taken him under her wing).

However, yeah he had free will. He chose to put his ambitions first over love, friendship, and even family(what he would later do to Tigris after everything she did for him was so messed up).

Ultimately Snow loves power more than anything else. He loved Lucy Gray IMO, just not as much as he wanted to be someone. In the movie, he did like having Sejanus as a friend just not as much as he liked getting back on top.

That line Highbottom says to him is brilliant. Snow does seem to only care about people as long as they are useful to him and then promptly discards them. Which was his downfall.

That and his obsessive nature, but the obsession drives his want for power. It was fun to see the makings of the villain we see in the main series. He really is a fascinating magnetic character that you can get sucked into.

Lol, I can’t take credit for this, but @nettlesdefensesquad said Coriolanus Snow was a twisted version of Daemon Targaryen. If Young!Snow chose love (like Daemon did with Nettles) instead of ambition that’s who he’d be, but if that had happened the Hunger Games would’ve looked different/maybe would’ve ceased to exist.

Analysis aside, Lucy Gray is better than me. I’m not going to lie, I’d probably miss all of the warning signs and be like Yes Daddy to whatever Young!Snow said. I mean look at him:

He’d have me hook, line, and sinker. I'm not even ashamed to admit it. For that reason, I probably wouldn’t survive the games(well I would if I was useful to him) or him, but it would be fun while it lasted🤣

Not the games. The games would not be fun. I would be absolutely petrified the entire time I'm in the arena, but the rest would be bliss☺️

[sw4tch]

Rotating Ralsei in my mind...

Going by the theory that he's Kris's old red horns brought to life, and that's why he's so lost in regards to what his own identity separate from Kris should be ("what it should mean to be Ralsei-like") I can't stop thinking about what his motivations are, and where his loyalities lie.

Ralsei seems to be aware of the Player to some extent. He can give Tutorials to the player (which in universe seem weird to other characters, like Susie who doesn't get what press Z means).

He triggers cut scenes where the POV of the player shifts away from Kris, and he seems to be aware that He can do that. Like he knows he should follow some sort of script (in ch2, even though we don't get to see the cutscene with Susie and Noelle if we've gone on a snowgrave route, he still wants Susie to tell the player what she experienced. She doesn't, but Ralsei was weirdly insistent on her telling us out loud what her cutscene was about).

He seems to be aware of the irl passage of time (to be fair this could simply be a meta joke, but that Ralsei felt like the time between ch1 and ch2 was Ever So Long instead of literally a single day in universe, might also mean that he's just aware of the passage of time for the player).

Anyway all this to say, Ralsei is basically established to just KNOW he's in a game where there's an outside force (the player) going through the motions.

The only other character that had that kind of knowledge was of course Jevil. [Spamton too, maybe?? But he didn't seem to be... like, aware he's inside a game, but rather that he was stuck forever in the dark world as a slave to the whims of Lightners]

Anyway with Jevil comes the inevitable Gaster (I'm saying Gaster bcus that's the most likely identity of the mystery man right now) connections. The basic premise of course is that Gaster has been sharing his knowledge of the truth of the deltarune world (that their world is just a game for players to play) to certain characters (which have become the secret bosses), and they have gone mad with the knowledge of it.

So, okay.

Following this logic:

Meta aware characters have all some connection to Gaster ->

So far Ralsei has been shown to have some sort of Meta Awareness ->

Ralsei has gained this meta Awareness thanks to having a connection with Gaster.

Right, so that's my working theory right now. That's who has given Ralsei his awareness of the player and the mechanics of the game world.

Now, how does that affect Ralsei?

Circling back again to the start:

In universe, Ralsei might just be the personification of Kris' ideal self when they were young. We know at some point Kris stopped using their red horns, and from their reaction to Ralsei tea, we can sort of infer that Kris no longer likes that ideal self.

So Ralsei's original purpose has been discarded. He's no longer something Kris wants. As an item (red horns) or as an ideal. Big old existential void left there to be filled.

[This might also have been the reason Ralsei covered himself up with his hat in ch1. His explanation for it implies he was nervous Kris wouldn't like him. Of course he'd be nervous about it, Kris has already discarded him. He knows he might not be wanted]

Darkners whole purpose is to Serve Lightners. What are you meant to do when your own personal Jesus Lightner and Creator no longer wants you?

Well, I guess you compensate by becoming overly lovable. Ralsei is extremely devoted to Kris and Susie. More so Kris than Susie (he is insistent in Kris being their sole leader, and in letting others know Kris Is The Most Special One Of Them All with their power to close off fountains and all), but I think he figured that another way to make Kris happy is to make Susie happy (and after ch2, he seems to have come to appreciate Susie as she is).

Anyway, Ralsei seems to have trained himself to become the most endearing and charming he can be. All for the purpose to be helpful, useful to Lightners. To Kris. Or... To the Player?

Right. This is where the question of his meta awareness comes in.

Who is Ralsei more loyal to? Kris or the Player?

After the NEO fight, Ralsei is so QUICK to dismiss everything that happened, as if it really was nothing. Despite Kris being so scared and shaken about it.

He cares more about moving on. And perhaps not ruining the experience for The Player.

Then again, Ralsei does take the time to hug and comfort Kris in order to calm them down.

So maybe it's a bit of both. Ralsei wants to please the Player, but he also wants to be liked by Kris.

Perhaps Ralsei wants to help Kris become free of the influence of the Player by playing the long con until he can work out how to separate Kris from the Player's influence.

But also maybe he just really wants to make the Player's every wish come true. Darkners live to serve, so maybe he believes that Lightners are of a lower importance than the All Knowing All Seeing All Powerful Player?

(Gahh! Who do you like more Ralsei?! Lightners or the Player?!)

And also, if his connection to Gaster is a thing, does Gaster himself influence who Ralsei is becoming more loyal to? Has Gaster adviced Ralsei to become sweet as he can be so the Player can love him?

Has he told him to guide the Player through these dark worlds and make them have a Whimsical Fun Adventure?

Must Ralsei fulfill a narrative purpose as some sort of obligation?

Why is he keeping up the fiction of being a Prince? (His Kingdom had no subjects, his houses were made of cardboard to keep appearances-)

Did Gaster promise that by becoming a lovable NPC, then Ralsei would no longer have to be lonely after being discarded by Kris ?! Is that what's happening?! Is that why we, as the Player, are recruiting more Darkners from other worlds to fill Castle Town?

Also, Ralsei made rooms for Kris and Susie "so they can find refuge in them no matter what's going on in the outside world"

Like, a bunker? Is Ralsei trying to get them all to stay in Castle town forever so they can be saved after the apocalypse happens?

WHY DOES HE NAME CASTLE TOWN AS "PLAYER"TOWN ANYWAY ?!

Anyway This huge ramble is inconclusive for now because it basically boils down to "WHY is Ralsei the way he is" and until we don't get more chapters there's no way to get answers to that.

So, thanks for reading my Many, MANY thoughts about the Fluffy Boi.

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

[1] [2] [3] || Also on AO3

Chapter 4: November 2014

Gerard refuses the drugs they offer him, the painkillers and the sedatives. Thank whatever gods there are that they listen. He can’t really say why it’s so important that he not have them. The painkillers would probably make his mind clearer, at least, they wouldn’t be offering them if they didn’t think, know, he needs them, but he won’t take them. Maybe he doesn’t want to be that aware of what’s happening. Maybe he doesn’t want to risk surviving somehow and getting hooked.

Maybe he just wants to be sure he’s still himself to the end.

Brain tumor, they said. He’s not sure if they told him what kind of tumor, specifically, if it’s cancer or something else. Not sure if it matters in the end, really. It’s big, bigger than it should be. He heard at least one nurse speculating as to why he didn’t get treatment before now, how he could possibly not have known. He doesn’t know how to explain that he grew up being essentially told his pain was unimportant, can’t describe the chronic headaches only two people in the world ever cared enough to help him with that he eventually learned to shake off. He certainly doesn’t know how to explain that he trusted the old woman when she said it’s nothing, you’re fine and didn’t consider for a moment that she might not be using any kind of supernatural abilities to determine that.

What it boils down to is this: Gerard Keay is dying. Not at the hands of a powerful supernatural entity or in battle with the forces of evil, but attacked from within by his own brain. He’s not sure if that should be a comfort or an irritant.

He surfaces from the icy pain for a minute to see the old woman looking down at him, almost sadly. He wonders if she’s actually going to miss him or just the help he gave her. If she’s seeing a life cut short or just resigning herself to the fact that she’s going to have to do the work that needs doing alone.

The one advantage, maybe, to the first seizure happening when it did is that he won’t be dragging anyone else into this. He promised, but…well, it’s out of his hands now. Still. At least he can keep them away from her. At least he can maybe keep them safe a little longer.

Okay, that is clearly the brain tumor talking. They aren’t safe and he knows it. Keeping them away from helping to stop the Dance isn’t making them safer. They need to know, but he can’t tell them now. He can only hope the old woman is able to turn it back on her own.

He blinks and she’s gone. She thinks he’s as alone in the world as she is, and he’s fought like hell to keep it that way. He doesn’t want her anywhere near them. She’ll do this to them, use them up and discard them like they’re nothing. Like his mother did. Like Martin’s mother is still doing, really.

Ruthlessly, with all the concentration he can manage, Gerard pushes all thoughts of Mary, and Lily, and Gertrude—the Unholy Trinity of women who prodded and nagged and shunted him around until he wound up here—out of his mind. He will not give them his last moments. He refuses.

He closes his eyes and takes several deep, slow breaths to calm himself. He almost manages it. And then a sudden spike of pain surges through his entire body, almost electric, and he finds himself in the grip of another seizure. Everything whites out for an indeterminate amount of time.

Somehow, he doesn’t die then. His vision eventually clears, for a given value of “clears”, and he resurfaces to see her looking down at him again. The look in her eyes tells him she Knows how bad it is. He’s very close to breathing his last.

Pain hits him again, sharp and sudden. It’s enough to draw a cry from him, hoarse and indistinct, and he feels tears prick at his eyes. His lips form an M, but he can’t manage more than that, can’t plead for the presence of either of the two people he loves most in the world, let alone the one he wishes was here now to make it better.

As glad as he is that they aren’t involved, right now Gerard would give everything for a chance to say goodbye properly. For his brother and sister to be there to hold his hands when he goes.

He lets his gaze drift away from the old woman. There’s…something in a corner. Something fuzzy and white. A cobweb, maybe. Gerard tries to focus on it…manages, barely. It’s definitely a cobweb, strung over what looks like a security camera of some kind. He’s never noticed a security camera in this ward before, certainly not one pointing at his bed. It seems kind of like an invasion of privacy, but this is America, after all, so who knows.

Or maybe it’s not supposed to be there. Maybe he didn’t notice it before because it wasn’t there. Maybe it’s one of Them. Or two of them, he thinks, tracing the gossamer strands of silk to where they connect the camera to the wall. Funny that he can see it so clearly, see the details so vividly when it’s so far away from him and he can’t focus on what’s up close. Or maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s because he’s so close to death that the sharp details of fear are visible. He directs his thoughts at it as best he can.

If you touch them, he thinks, I swear I’ll go after you. I don’t care what comes after this. Nothing will be strong enough to keep me from protecting them. You hurt them and I will come after you.

He’s not sure if he’s actually hoping for a response, but he doesn’t get one. Maybe the camera shifts slightly, maybe the spiderweb sways a bit, but most likely it’s just his brain shutting down and making his vision go fuzzy. Fuck, everything hurts. There’s a part of him aching for a cigarette to soothe his nerves, but that won’t help. Anyway, Martin doesn’t like it, and he’s honestly right not to, even if it’s not the nicotine that’s killing him in the end.

Two pairs of eyes, one blue, one green, seem to peer down at him from the ceiling. Gerard fixes his own eyes on them, even though he knows they’re not really there. They feel close to him, all of a sudden. With a great effort, he manages to force out a single word: “Love.”

And thus ends Gerard Keay.

[system-of-alya-story-blog]

Having a strong fixation on Zenos right about now so we absolutely need to write out our vauge ass headcanond of WoLs we've never made (yet? Maybe, we dislike the idea of doing ARR all over again) so we can actually be normal and have normal thoughts for the time being. This won't be tagged as it's not anything in specific, just said WoL being obsessed with Zenos in a way the other scions either see as increadibly unhealthy or downright terrifying.

Am I doing this right? Is this how you make "below the cut" posts? Maybe

Concept 1 (inspired by a comic we saw where the WoL takes Zenos' eye. Seemingly for differijg reasons), the WoL sees Zenos fuse with a dragon for their "final" fight, and being an Au Ra who is constantly compared to the wyrms and often being criticized as "weaker" and not cut out to be the hero of this world, our WoL seeks to do the same. This sheer fury the WoL harbors causes them to completely ignore her fellow scions, she keeps Zenos from taking his own life, and then fights him, again. Due to his weakened state it only lasts mere seconds, several of the Scions are more than confused. Why would WoL do this? They've never been one to kill for the sake of killing? Was it a prusuit of revenge? Was she proving a point to him? Does he have some influence over them? They do not know.

Shortly after the WoL begins barking orders, telling her fellow Scions to leave her be and that she has "Business to attent to". When they hesistate the WoL in their hazed state threatens them right there, with no thought for what will come after. She *needs* this power he has, she pines for it, obsesses over it. In what felt like an eternity staring down at Zenos' corpse she succumbs to her deepest desires.

The WoL, using a method she thinks will work, this needs to work, and relieves him of one of his eyes. If Nidhogg's was the eye of hate, anger, and revenge, then Zenos' was the eye of obsession, yearning, and most of all... power. She needed this power all for herself, but was not in such a trance as to take both lest she simply become a vessel for Zenos. She also was not enough of a fool to leave any evidence behind of the tampering. She drank of the blood that seeped from his socket before placing her now discarded eye into his head. Using glamour, both eyes were made to look like they were there the whole time.

The WoL, silently showed herself amoung her comrades once more, but without a word, had teleported elsewhere. Where she chose to go off to is a mystery.

(And for the sake of storytelling let's say that it is now at a time where Zenos is back alive and seen near the WoL, or relatively near considering they aren't actively fighting, by the scions.)

Something seems off about the two, something oh so present to all else in the area. They have what seems like a connection, as if both parties are wordlessly speaking a thousand tales that they're absolutely enamoured by.

Later in combat with unrelated foes, it was as if the WoL was bending to the will of an unseen force. From Fandaniel's prespective, Zenos did not seem entirely himself, this obsession with the Warrior, it was not one born of hate or even a yearning for battle. It was one born of seeking, seeking as if she had taken something from him, but also seeking for other, unrelated reasons. Both Zenos and the Au Ra knew what she had done to him, and both knew why.

Zenos was utterly fascinated with this revelation. He could see into the Warrior's intents, see into her very soul, she could keep no secrets from him. Though.. the same can be said both ways. It's as if they can speak to eachother at any time, through their very thoughts. As if they resided in eachother's heads. That is because in reality thanks to the WoL's impulsive actions, they did.

Zenos sought to use this to find out what truly made the Warrior tick, what could without a doubt grasp her attention, what could get her crawling back to him and willing to bend to his will. Did he wish to have his eye returned? No he wished for her to keep it actually. For how else would he have such valueble insight into the ever elusive Warrior. No carefully selected words, no barriors behind one's own mind, nothing could keep him from finding out what he wanted, and being able to feel the WoL's emotions, being able to read her soul so intimately would make this next bsttle all the more interesting. No, he would get her whatever her heart desired at the small cost of one more battle... one to blot out even the brightest of stars in the flames of their passion. One where even those on the opposite sides of reality could feel their entire lives being poured into this very battle. This wasn't too costly was it? After all she has done so much to achieve true dragonhood, her greed almost causing the fall of an entire nation in it's wake. Such a simple solution and all she had to do was rid the world of Zenos once more, then the Warrior could finally become a dragon as she wished to be, could finally ascend to what the world she had once sought to protect wished of her.

Though he wouldn't be one to admit it, he saw this as a weakness. Just another distraction in the coming battle, would she really be giving it her all and more if she wasn't only thinking about him, and destroying him? If the thought of finally getting what she wanted stirred ever present in the depths of her being? Could he settle for such a thing? No, he could not.

He needed to battle in the deepest pits of their souls, he needed to battle the wyrm within the warrior. He needed to have this dragon on a short leash. But just how would he do that? Blackmail? Threatening? Bribery? No... no... he would give her the very thing she sought before the battle even began, he would transform her into the wyrm of her dreams, ever mighty, without equal, and unkillable. All she would need to do is ask, ask, listen, and OBEY.

[infinitethree]

Hi again Innit!! To answer the why, I’d say we’re here to… offer advice maybe??? Hmmm. No, that’s not quite it. We’re here to cause change. Or, to help you change. Whether for better or for worse doesn’t really matter.

Also I’d like to add— I won’t say anything on whether all Dreams are evil or not, but I will say that’s not why the scribe forced Daz to release you!!

Innit’s head cocks to the side.

The phrasing and tone are interesting; there's too much uncertainty in both. While, sure, it could just be that this particular Observer is just stupid, Innit doesn't think that's the reason.

It's doubted Break's seemingly dense nature the second it became clear they knew more than most others.

And now, Innit is positive that the Observer is smarter than Daz gives them credit for or that they’ve openly displayed. It doesn’t make sense for an entity as powerful as the Scribe to entrust something they clearly care about to an idiot.

That, and it would be rich if Break's fondness for Daz was like recognizing like. Who better to appreciate a performance than a fellow actor?

It says after a moment, "...You don’t have to pretend to be stupid with me, you know. The only one I could tell is Daz, and…well. I hate him more than words can possibly convey."

And fuck is that the truth.

Daz had been the one who created it, Dream had been the one to make it a person, and both of them had ripped what tiny shreds of agency it had for their own selfish ends.

Bitterness rises like bile. Or, at least, what the vague idea of bile that it has from Daz.

It hasn't ever felt…anything, really. Most sensory information from Daz has always been muted for it. That was true for not just touch but taste and smell as well. It had been something Innit had always been unclear about the reason for, but…over the last three years in its own personal hell, the answer had become clear.

It had never been accepted, merely tolerated and used until it got in the way. Then it was discarded, locked away and left to rot.

That fact became blindingly clear when it realized Daz had no intention of ever letting it go free.

Trying to swallow the surge of seething hatred that rises up, Innit attempts to focus on something less painful.

"And you say that like you know the actual reason why my gracious benefactor made that bastard open my cage. Would you be kind enough to share what it is? Or is that something I need to figure out for myself?"

It gives a wide grin that shows off its too-sharp teeth. "I'm happy to fully cooperate with you, unlike Daz. He’s nowhere near as smart as he pretends to be. Nor does he appreciate what a wonderful change all of you bring. He's grown complacent with this peace. That's why he's struggling to cope with the realization of what his precious little Achilles truly is."

In the central Council room, Daz presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Right, sure." His tone is bitterly sarcastic, and only grows moreso as he continues, "Do you have some real estate on Mars to sell me? Or maybe you just want to piss on me and tell me it's raining."

His hands drop and he gets to his feet. "If it wasn't clear, I don’t believe that was an accident. I don’t appreciate being lied to. I also don't appreciate traitors."

A loud peal of laughter echoes in the back of his mind. He nearly entirely suppresses the flinch it causes.

It's miserable to have your trust broken, isn't it? Funny how you can't handle a taste of your own medicine. A shame I can't do to you what you did to me. How long would you last, I wonder, if I could shove you in a cage?

He doesn't dignify the toothless threats with a response. Innit can't take control; they knew that for a fact. It had been attempted, both with Daz willing and with him unwilling.

Every time had been a resounding failure.

Ah, but I have a benefactor now. One who forced you to open my cage and whose trusted agent just blatantly misled you. The Scribe is clearly powerful. The Scribe obviously is interested in giving me freedom.

Who's to say they couldn't and wouldn't give me control? Imagine what I could do to your little house of cards given just a measly hour or two.

A chill goes down Daz’s spine. He knows his monster is trying to fuck with his head. That doesn't mean it doesn't have a point. Trying to keep his voice even, he says out loud, "I– I need to take care of something. You're all dismissed."

[brightblessed]

@swerte​ said:    The migraine should have debilitated him considering how strong the vision was. Yet despite how fractured it had been, he could still make out the features of the two people involved: his current prisoner, tied up on a chair, isolated in the dark of a small shack they kept for such a purpose, and someone much more familiar. Someone that made D'kav snarl and force away the agony to order their prisoner to be woken before he made his way there. Someone that made D'kav's chest clench in a maelstrom of emotions.

    Anger. Hurt. Love.

    Utter hatred.

    How lucky it is that D'kav's job wound up with someone who had a connection with Asterios, of all people. Perhaps he'll take more than a few days to deliver Rory to the ones who hired him. The delay should not be noticed; D'kav had also been lucky to find Rory already bruised and bleeding from some manner of battle, enough for D'kav to catch him unawares and take him hostage. The job should have taken longer than a week to find the target, figure out their strengths and weaknesses, enact a plan, but.... well, things were made infinitely easier because of that.

    He heads to where Rory is kept now. The sun is blinding when he opens the door, revealing the battered hyur. D'kav had let his men soften Rory up, so to speak, followed by a few heals to ensure nothing was permanently damaged or fatal. D'kav never wished for his toys to be broken too early, after all.

    D'kav moves forward, power brimming beneath his skin. Should he start with fire? Or perhaps ice? Both, of course, are enticing. Both would leave their mark in the ways he wishes to use them. Whether or not Rory answers, he would find joy in hurting someone who seems to have gotten so fucking close to that viera.

    A clawed finger slips under a blood-rusted chin. Lifts. D'kav's eyes narrow. Digs the tip into the skin, sharp and pointed, further drawing beads of crimson. "I trust you enjoyed your previous company." A lazy smile curves his lips, though his golden eyes remain cold. Intense. This has become personal, after all. He'd not intended to interfere before now, trusting his group to do their job, but after that vision...

    The pain throbs behind his eyes harder at the reminder. Black spots dance in his vision. D'kav sighs, heavy and slow. He is careful not to show that pain. It would be unfortunate if it slipped out. A drawl leaves him, seemingly casual yet his gaze belies the danger, "you'll tell me where Asterios is, or it will be my turn to keep you company."

⸻ ♞

He could only focus on the sound. Something hit the ground. Drip. Drip. Drip. He didn’t know if there was water leaking in somewhere or if it was blood still falling out of one of his injuries. It was dark. Even though his eyes had adjusted, it was still hard to see. How had he gotten into this situation? He could claim he had been overconfident. Reckless. But that wasn’t quite right. It isn’t either reckless, arrogant, or foolish to go into a battle you know you will likely lose. Suicidal? Maybe. In truth, he couldn’t say exactly why. He couldn’t parse it. He didn’t want to. But that was just a way to punish himself. And he had done it out of habit and without thought. And now this.

He didn’t know if they were hired by the Crystal Braves. He didn’t know what they wanted. They happened upon him after he had just barely defeated his quarry. His muscles ached, his aether was drained, and he had injuries that would have dropped someone that wasn’t using dark arts. He didn’t have much of a chance when the new fight started right away. He called out to Fray, but he was gone. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed and they had gotten to him first. Maybe Fray realized he wasn’t worth it. He would never reach any answers. He would never be anything but the worthless failure he already was. Used and discarded. Again and again.

I deserve this. His heart cried out as they beat him. It isn’t fair. His mind screamed. All in all, he was angry and afraid. He wanted to kill them. He felt powerless. So powerless that he wanted to die. He tried to remember how Minfilia has hurt by the Garleans when they captured her. How pathetic he would be if he broke. And so he didn’t make any noise. Not a cry or a yelp. Nothing but acceptance. Spite and rage overwhelmed him. But once they healed him and left him alone, he struggled against the restraints until he burned through his energy. Which led him here.

The healing hadn’t been to ease his pain. His flesh was broken and bruised. He had worse. He told himself that. He just had to recover. Then he could escape. No one knew where he was. If the Braves were behind this, perhaps he could get information. If they asked about the scions, it meant whoever they asked about likely escaped.

When the harsh light cut into the room, he shut his eyes. It burned. Even though dread fills him when the other approaches, he does his best not to show it. Though he can feel his pulse racing out of control, it doesn’t reach his face. Even as the bastard touches him. His bruised face ached when the air so much as touched it. The nails digging into his flesh made his fingers shake. He tries to close his hands into fists, even if it’s difficult while restrained to the chair.

He doesn’t comment when the other first speaks. He just glares at him. Amber eyes burning with hate. Unrelenting.

The question, however, is beyond confusing. He excepted a familiar name and yet… He heard one that he certainly never had before. ❝ I have no idea who the fuck you are talking about. ❞ He all but growls, ignoring the pain and fear. Pushing aside the coppery taste still in his mouth.

❝ Kill you… I’m going to fucking kill you all… ❞  Despite being exhausted and hurt, he tries to gather his aether. He tries to call upon his darkside. The shifting of aether would be noticed by anyone with proficiency. But this thug was probably not someone with that much intelligence.