#flicker wrote this

[a-flickering-soul]

🔀 bix/dedra?

"From Eden" -- Hozier

Ohhh I fucking oneshotted it with this one because it's giving desperation it's giving longing it's giving resentment it's giving resignation!!!

I'm thinking. . . some time after the events of Andor and the main trilogy, Dedra Meero drags herself out of the gutter she'd ended up in post-Empire collapse and starts looking for. . . something. She doesn't have anything anymore-- no pride, no ambition, not a single shred of her former self left except the this feeling that she's missing something, that she's lost something that she needs to get back.

She wanders the galaxy, picking up odd jobs, ignoring anyone who looks at her for a bit too long-- she keeps her hair short now, forgoes her tight bun (but she can't quite shake her precision when it comes to her clothes). And somewhere between one blink and the next. . . she finds it. Right there in front of her. Laughing, flinging her braids over her shoulders, hale and whole.

And Dedra is a fucking shell.

And so, of course, she follows her. From work to her home to where she goes on her off hours to enjoy the life that she actually has, the life that she should have gotten. . . watching her at her work in some mechanic's garage, watching her eat a hasty lunch at the noodle bar across the street, even watching her on the rare moments she has to herself through the half-shaded windows of her bedroom. . .

And naturally it comes to its natural conclusion: Dedra, pressed against her door, trying anything, anything at all to feed that last spark of hunger, of obsession, to devour the last bit of life she can see walking around in her. . .

And Bix opens the door. And she falls at her feet.

send me a 🔀 and a ship and ill give you an au!

[strawberrybyers]

STOP IF WILL IS WITH MIKE AND EL AT THE RADIO STATION PLACE AND THE STRANGER THINGS BROADCAST CHANNEL POSTED BOOKS ABOUT ELECTRICITY AND LIGHTS AND RADIOS WHICH I WROTE IN A POST ABOUT HERE AND ONE OF THE BUILDINGS THEY’RE FILMING AT IS CALLED 5000 WATTS OR SOMETHING LIKE THAT WHICH HAS TO DO WITH LIGHTING AND WILL WAS ABLE TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO COMMUNICATE FROM THE UPSIDE DOWN WITH LIGHTS AND GOING BACK TO S2 THEY USED THE RADIO TO PLAY MUSIC TO COMMUNICATE WITH WILL AND WE KNOW MUSIC PLAYS A BIG ROLE IN BEING PROTECTED BY VECNA AND EL CAN ALSO COMMUNICATE WITH RADIO FREQUENCIES AND SOMEHOW ALL THIS TIES INTO MIKE BEING THERE TO SAVE WILL ONCE AGAIN AND THAT LEADS TO BYLER ENDGAME

[jalapenobee]

Imagine if voltron had a novelization. How would they even describe all the klance.

[chronicowboy]

actually the worst writer feeling is not writer's block or no inspiration or just an exhaustion that you can't write through, it's when you have that itch to write but inspiration is juuuust out of reach like i can keep brushing my fingers against the corner of my next idea but i can't quite grab it

[cringelordofchaos]

ROBLOX FLICKER - My Role Interpertations: Chapter - Medic (written on 06/01/2024)

WARNINGS: self-hatred, mentions of murder, extreme guilt, longish post

Medic, medic, medic… Oh, how much trauma you could fit into this single role.

The medic. Let's lay out the (objective) basics - each night, a person has a chance of being killed by the murderer. There is not much definite avoiding you could do,however; the medic here can "save the day", so to speak. They can select a person to protect during the nighttime. If the murderer were to attempt killing this person whilst they were protected, their murder attempt would simply Not Work. It's mostly a game of guessing and choosing, and hoping your shots at the dark were useful.

(Random facts! There cannot be both a Saviour and a Medic, symbolizing how they are the only Saving Grace, the only Hope in the team. They are the only ones which can truly heal and Save people from the horrible fates of death, despite everything. Also, the Medic is supposed to be a counterpart to the Witch, which could make for interesting character dynamics and relationships, in my earnest opinion. Perhaps they could be similiar, yet differnet. You get what I mean?)

(The medics' actions do not count against the ones slain by roles such as Assassin and Clown, symbolizing their power and strength. But that is for another essay, though.)

(Both Saviour and Medic are assigned the colour Cyan as their signature colour - Cyan, as a colour, can represent various things, but it is most associated with and represented with "peace, relaxation, healthcare, dreams, spirituality, liveliness, youth, energy, serenity, and calm", according to most accessible online sources.)

Now, let's look at this from a different perspective. The medic, first of all, has to choose a specific person they must protect that night. Which could be horribly detrimental to ones' psyche.Favoritism,guilt tripping and manipulation can come into play.

The medic would most definitely be asked the question, who do they save? And why?

They would practically have to deal with choosing who has more value as a person. Not being protected would straight up tell someone "Hey, the medic thought you weren't worth saving". How does one choose who gets to live and who doesn't? The medic can not NOT choose anyone, either; that would be useless and detrimental to everyone. But choosing a specific person would be favoritism.

Choosing yourself? That would be selfish.

The medic would have a hard time choosing. Constant questions and guilt flooding through their head. I mean, obviously, the choice would all depend on the individual factors of that specific night; who is the most vulnerable? Who is the most valuable asset to the game? Who is worth saving? But even those questions are difficult to answer.

Not to mention the sentimental aspect of choosing. You can't let your friend(s) die! You must protect them, or you're a horrible ally! A horrible friend yourself!

Your "friends" could also very much, well,let's just say;control you, in case they know of you being the medic.

"You're gonna protect me, right?" you would hear their pleads for their very lives each night. Of course you would, you'd think so at least. They're your 'ride or die'. You can't betray them like that.

But you could only ever so wait for the tiniest bit longer to realize; your friends' yearning for protection were just simple tricks. You'd come to realize; some of them knew they wouldn't get killed during the game anyway.

They just wanted less security for the Valuable, for the 'Good' so to speak.

And oh, how fucking of a stab that would be. To realize that the many failures, falls and deaths… all the blood spilled would be on your hands as well as the murderers'.

You helped them. Your own naivete, no; screw that, you were at fault for the fallings of the innocent.

How much loyalty you devoted to your single friend, how much care and protection you sacrificed for them, as "any other friend would"; only to sacrifice the lives of the many others who needed your protection you never chose to give.

Asshole.

All the lives gone; if only you weren't so naive, so dumb, so selective, so… evil.

If only you weren't the medic.

Have you ever even chosen to be this way?

Now, now. Let's think of other… potential circumstances.

You DO choose to save yourself. More often than not, in fact. Others may not even know about your ways; your ways of keeping wary each night, keeping awake for the purpose of protecting and healing yourself, may go unnoticed by many. Sure, the mystery surrounding your questioning "immortality" may rise eyebrows for some, but for the most part? You're safe.

(I just realized that the medic can only save themselves once per round. Excuse my idiocy, please.)

But, seriously? Choosing yourself, each night? Each night, in your wake hours, you hear the screams of the slaughtered. Each stab to their heart feels like a stab to your psych.

You could've helped them.

You could've saved them.

But no, no- you had to protect yourself, huh? Selfishness comes as a simple strategy for survival, does it not?

But what are you good for, anyway? What makes you so much more valuable than anyone else, to the point of self protection and 'sacrifice' of others?

All the screams of pain… they should be your screams.

It all comes down to a personal choice. Be selfish, and survive; but hear the screams of victims that could've been you. Be a good friend, and save them; but sacrificing many lives of the innocent, and ultimately leaving yourself more vulnerable than ever. Be strategic, and protect the competent, the useful ones; but ultimately sacrificing the lives of the innocents who should deserve to live too. Deny favouritism, deny choice, and deny responsibility, and protect no one; but be a fucking asshole and an idiot.

You can't save everyone but you can't- no, you musn't- save no one at all.

After all, it is your responsiblity, your role. And you better not fuck it up.

Because, among all else, it all ties into you, and what you choose to do.

Unless you give it all up.

Because how could you ever live a normal life, after knowing what you could've done, who you could've saved; but ultimately didn't. Generally speaking, you might've even helped the murderer at times.

So who is to blame here, realy?

Are you to be trusted?

You could've done such good, and yet..?

You fail.

Failure and imperfection, in almost any scenario, is excusable. Reedemable. We are all imperfect, messy excuses of humanity. But in a live-or-die situation? In which everyone's lives are at stake, and you fail to save them?

There is no going back.

There is no redemption.

(also, imagine everyone feels like there is no salvation, there is nothing to be done, everything is hopeless, while you're just standing there, fully aware that you CAN and COULD'VE saved soo many people, only if you weren't so stupid. that would be kinda awkward LMAOOOOOOOOO)

https://robloxflicker.fandom.com/wiki/Medic - Medic described on Fandom Wiki.

[theclassicsapphics]

A HAUNTED HOUSE WITH A PICKET FENCE TO FLOAT AROUND AND GHOST MY FRIENDS IM NOT AFRAID TO DISAPPEAR THE BILLBOARD SAID THE END IS NEAR I LOOKED AROUND THERE WAS NOTHING THERE YEAH I GUESS THE END IS HERE

[ahauntedcowboy]

time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me

[jinx-blackout-84]

Goodnight my love.

I hope your thoughts are beautiful tonight as they catch the light in thin spiderweb wisps. I hope you sleep as if there is no world you must wake to, I hope it is deep and restful. I hope you wake into a world better than the one you fell asleep to.

I hope your day is bright and full of beauty. I hope that it rains softly, just enough to make the air smell of earth and solace and remind you that nature can be beautiful.

I hope you see a crooked tree or a flower missing a few petals and are reminded that imperfection is beautiful. I hope you are reminded that nature does not have to be perfect.

You are a part of nature. You are not flawless and will never have to be. You are made of space dust. Stars glow in your veins and shine through every thing you do. We can see it, my love.

We can see the stardust you are made of. You shine like a cracked vase with a candle in it.

Your breaks and fractures only make you more beautiful, only make your light reach further. I hope your mind runs with poetry and words and your pen runs with ink.

I hope you can create art, any art. A poem or drawing, a painting or dance. Simply the act of waking in the morning is an art in itself.

Someone once said that stories redefine a world, and that poetry looks that the details of the world and redefine those. Redefine the details for your world. Eat some food, redefine your hunger, go outside and redefine how you, like Icarus, long for the sun. You are a poet in every sense of the word. Your actions are art.

I love you.

Goodnight.

[ariapmdeol]

getting work done as usual...

close ups here! play cell of empireo pspspsps

[a-flickering-soul]

dacryphilia

The very worst thing you can do right now is bore me. Caleen shudders. “You’re not going to believe me anyways, are you?” Her voice tremors, and Dedra wants to hear it break. “No,” she says slowly. She can feel a smile tugging at her lips. She fights like mad to suppress it, and fails. It pulls at her lips, threatening to split them, and she lets her teeth show. “I suppose not.”

Or; The Interrogation Scene and some bonuses from Lt. Dedra Meero's point of view.

Or; Sophia "Dyke With Bad Taste" A-Flickering-Soul saw this

and this

and THIS

and thought, "How can I not write the most reprehensible, terrible, Dead Doveish 2.6k words about it?"

Mind the tags.

[triforce-of-mischief]

*looks outside to see wind and dark gray clouds*

me: here comes another storm

*thunder*

me: THANK YOU, storm.

[takadasaiko]

Sneak Peek Sunday

A flicker of warning through the Force pulled him out of his thoughts half a moment before an alarm sounded on the bridge. He tore his gaze away from the streaking stars to where Renz was already at the crew pit, awaiting the alert. Luke stood still, reminding himself that as the commander of the ship, it was the crew’s job to speak up, not for him to follow his usual habbit to crouch down to get a better look. He was in command now. 

“I’m not certain, sir,” the crewmember answered stiffly, fumbling with his computer. “It’s as if something’s throwing the equipment off.”

Luke stretched out in the Force, following the flicker he’d felt toward its source as the conversation over faulty equipment became muddled in the background. It was strange. Hollow. No, not hollow. More like a pit, a black hole sucking in anything and everything around it.

“Pull us out of hyperspace,” Luke snapped, cutting his new captain and the crewmember off. 

“My Lord, I --”

“Now!”

The ship jolted, slamming everyone forward as they shifted hard out of the hyperspace lane and into the stillness of what should have been empty space. Instead they were facing a planet directly in their path. Dark, as if drenched in shadows, all Luke could tell was it was the source of the utter void he’d felt in the Force, much like the ysalamiri had done all those years ago when he and Mara had landed on Myrkr. 

But this wasn’t Myrkr. This planet wasn’t even on any starmap that Luke had ever seen.

“My Lord Natus,” Renz called softly, motioning to what appeared to be a stalled ship to the right of their own nose. 

“Hail them,” Luke answered, hating how tight his voice sounded. He didn’t like this. Something was terribly wrong. 

“They provided old codes, sir,” the Nav officer replied. “Altered, but they appear to be from a set of stolen codes we flagged recently.”

“Rebels.”

[tooies]

flicker is like the opposite of the cocky spaceship pilot trope. like yeah she can take you through a debris field with barrly a scratch on the hull surprisingly quickly but she will be freaking out about how she is going well over safe speeds the entire time and need a good few hours afterwards to calm down. she passed her pilot's exam with flying colours because she followed all the rules and regulations to a tee, including the ones that like 80% of pilots break on the regular

[cringelordofchaos]

woag being a medic would be so angsty right?

it would be. already made a post abt it but flicker fandom is too dead atthis point and its sorta my fault so

[im-traumatised]

Perhaps one day I'll find myself, meeting my mother for coffee. Standing before her, a completely different person. Seeing the look on her face at the difference, from the short hair, to the exhuberant clothes, to the intense look behind my eyes. Both more independent then she could ever control and more disabled then she'd ever have truly loved.

We sit at the table, I look dead into her aging eyes and It's clear to her I don't have to be here, that for once in my pathetic life I hold the power in the situation. She doesn't need to know the reality of nauseating fear and doubt simmering below the surface of my concrete disposition. All she needs to see is the definitive fact that this is only happening because I allowed it. For once the decision was mine...

And so she cries...

Her words reach no further then a

"Hello," as the single utterance breaks her.

Turmoltuious waves crashing against her, a storm of years passed. She just cries. An unmeasurable amount of tides and ripples change us through the passage of time, and of that she is entirely faced with, as I sit before her... Quiet and new.

So finally I whisper back, "Hello."

And I dare not admit... That I then begin to cry too.

[modern-sybil]

06.05.22

nobody kisses my bruises anymore

but i can’t remember if anyone ever did

love shared through contact’s breath

maybe i was always the bruise-kisser in the relationship

pressing my lips to skin with sacred intent

a flicker of holy fire burning in my belly

maybe my lips are a promise of june and forever

maybe my kisses are a holy communion

(did you ever bruise yourself on purpose?)

(press your thumb in deep to get the color right?)

(did you ever want me enough to make it hurt?)

-k