#i can't believe i finally got these to post my suffering is over

[dreamlogic]

2024 year of charlie gets a fucking break (hopefully. maybe. tbd.)

[essaytime]

do you have any fun facts about hamlet i need motivation to keep reading this play (i like it so far but its so damn long)

— @iron--and--blood

ooops not that many

I like talking about Ophelia, she's my darling, and I enjoy the play as well as Hamlet's character, but I'm nowhere near an expert and I don't really have any kind of fun fact. I'm pretty sure my mutual @gabriel-shutterson (sorry for invoking you if it's inconvenient in any way) is more of an expert here. Here's some incoherent thoughts, not really fun facts, in the tags, though

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[queenie-the-court-jester]

HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

[sematarygirls]

Living Dead Girl Pt. II — Patrick Hockstetter.

part one

pairing : patrick hockstetter x ghost!reader

summary : patrick gave into his urges and finally tested his morbid curiosities on prey much larger than just a cat or dog. little did he know his actions would come back to haunt him... literally.

warnings : patrick being a psychopath , animal cruelty , male masturbation , graphic descriptions of murder and suicide , reader being manipulative , degradation , sexual themes ,

word count : 4.5k words !

a/n : can't believe i'm finally posting this after a year and a half. also this is my first attempt at smut-ish so i'm sorry if it's ass. im not gonna say this is 18+ bc I myself am not 18+ (im turning 18 this year tho) also im not your mom and idgaf what you read.

"Finally," a voice sounded, causing him to drop both his can and his plate. The sharp sound of glass breaking followed by a loud thud echoed through the room as the plate and soda can collided with the floor.

"No, no, no," Patrick shook his head, shutting his eyes. "This isn't real. I killed you. You're not here. You're not real."

"Sorry, babe," the voice, your voice, whispered into his ear. Your warm breath fanned his ear, and he felt his whole body tense. "I'm very much real."

"That's not possible," he said through gritted teeth. "I watched you die. I buried you!" He opened his eyes, convinced that this was all some terrible drug trip. Maybe the weed he'd just got from Henry was laced, or maybe he was suffering from a temporary psychosis. Either way, there had to be some rational and logical reason that he was seeing you.

However, when he saw you there, sitting there with a smug look on your face, your presence as solid as any living person, he felt his heart skip a beat.

You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing as you pouted. "What's wrong, Patrick?" You asked condescendingly. "Don't act so scared now." You walked toward him slowly, watching him scramble backward in a panic. A smile spread across your lips as you saw the pure fear in his eyes when he hit the wall behind him, having nowhere else to go. "You weren't scared when you stabbed me. You weren't scared when you watched me bleed out in your arms. You weren't scared when you buried my body like some animal you found on the side of the road." Your voice was seeping with anger as you stepped closer and closer, cornering him. "So you don't get to be scared now."

Patrick Hockstetter was not someone who was frightened easily. In fact, up until this very moment, he didn't think he had the ability to be frightened at all. His unique ability to remain calm and collected in situations that would often stress others out was one he was prideful of. However, at that moment, he felt all composure and level-headedness dissolve. For the first time in his life, he was scared. Not just scared—terrified.

"What- What do you want?" He asked, his voice shaky as he looked into your eyes. You no longer looked at him like he hung the moon. There were no remnants of your innocence and naivety—willing to trust that people have the best intentions. There was nothing behind your cold, lifeless eyes. It was like staring at a corpse.

"Now, what's the fun in that?" You grinned, leaning forward so your face was inches away from his. Your gaze flickered to his lips. The same lips you thought he'd planned to kiss you with, but instead, he'd stabbed you in the stomach and mocked your intelligence. "You should really watch your back, Patrick," you whispered with a devious smirk, your breath fanning over his face. "I heard the search for me is really picking up after they found my blood in the woods."

Your words snapped him back to the reality of the situation at hand. He had killed you. What you were saying was impossible though. Right? He was meticulous in every stage of his plan. There was no way they found any trace of you. "What are you talking about?" He asked, his eyes searching you for any sign of deception, but you were impossible to read like this. He was no longer able to detect everything from a single glance. He only knew what you wanted him to know.

Without another word, you disappeared, leaving the boy spiraling as he went through all the events of that night over and over again. "Come back!" He screamed, his voice echoing through the empty house. "You can't just leave like that you bitch!"

Patrick let out a frustrated yell as he grabbed the nearest thing—which happened to be a porno mag—and threw it across the room in a fit of rage. Who did you think you were to haunt him? To come into his room, make him feel that horrible emotion, and tease him just to leave abruptly?

He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to control his heavy breathing as his anger took over. You had to have been lying, trying to get into his head. He hated to admit that it was working. He was supposed to be the one in your head. This was his world. He controlled everyone and everything. You shouldn't be here. You should be dead and buried like he had intended.

He fell back in his bed and took a deep breath, letting his mind settle as he chased sleep. He told himself you would be gone tomorrow and that would be that. Your appearance to him, like something out of a Charles Dickens novel, was just a fluke. Tomorrow you would be dead and all would be right with the world.

He drifted off to sleep, having convinced himself that he would never see you again. He was able to get a few hours of sleep, but you weren't going to let him be at peace for long

At around 4 am, Patrick had a very vivid dream that he was choking. He was gasping for air, clawing at his neck as he looked around frantically. His surroundings dissolved into a pitch-black room. He felt his lungs burning, his brain growing fuzzy as the oxygen left him. It felt so vivid, so real.

He awoke in a panic, sitting up straight as he gasped for air. His lungs felt like they were on fire. Like he had truly been deprived of air like he'd dreamed about. He panted, catching his breath as he looked around at his room, thankfully finding no signs of you. However, when he finally felt secure, able to draw a breath without feeling like a thirsty man drinking water, he realized the pillow that had been behind his head was now sat on his lap.

The realization dawned on him that he may have been actually suffocating, and you were the culprit. He shook his head, trying to expel the thought as he laid back down, throwing the pillow off into the black depths of his room, so he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. It was just a dream. Just as you were just a vision.

Patrick wasn't stupid, though many would argue to the contrary. Just because he didn't give a shit about school and didn't try didn't mean he wasn't smart. He just saved his intelligence for things that actually mattered—like planning and executing a murder.

That in mind, his refusal to accept the things he deep down knew to be true was not, as some would think, him being stupid. On the contrary, he believed himself smarter than to believe in silly things like ghosts. Dead things stay dead. He'd learned that at a very young age. He knew when he killed his brother that he would not be coming back. Just as he knew when he killed you that you would not be coming back.

Ghosts don't exist. He wasn't dumb enough to believe that.

As he laid in bed, trying to rationalize himself into a calm enough state to fall asleep again, he found himself more on edge with every creak of the old house around him. He stared up at the ceiling, his eyes conspiring with the moonlight to play tricks on him. His breath hitched at every shadow dancing around the dark.

You were proud of your work, and you had barely done anything yet. You watched from the shadows, pleased as he seemed to run himself in circles trying to cope with everything going on. The mere thought of you was torture enough.

You grinned, biting your lip as a thought washed over you. As a ghost, not bound by the physical realm, you had the ability to do a lot of things. One of those so happened to be raising and lowering the temperature in a room.

You focused hard, raising the temperature several degrees, making Patrick swear at the sudden sweat washing over him. You watched with a satisfied smirk as he pulled his shirt over his head, trying to cool himself off.

He didn't have a six pack or anything, but you didn't expect him to. He had a lean, toned torso with a very sexy v-line peeking out from his jeans. A small tattoo sat on his stomach just above his v-line on the right side. You couldn't make it out in the darkness, but you didn't care much. The sight of it alone was enough.

After all, who said you couldn't mix a little bit of business with pleasure.

He had taken away the rest of your life, all the possibilities of experiencing having your first kiss, losing your virginity, falling in love. It was only fair he made up for that in one way or another before your time together came to an end.

The time passed agonizingly slowly with Patrick staring at the ceiling and you watching him, studying him like he was some foreign thing. It was so interesting to watch someone when they don't know they're being watched. Of course, he felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, his body detecting the unseen eyes on him, but he chalked it up to paranoia—as he did every other unexplainable thing that seemed to be happening to him.

His mind drifted off, the heat making him restless as his brain filled with gruesome images of his previous kills. He sifted through his memory for the most interesting ones—dismembering birds, beheading cats, snapping a squirrel or two's neck—but none of them seemed to get him off anymore.

The image of your face right after he stabbed you made it's way into his mind. Your eyes, so wide and filled with fear. He could practically hear your sweet voice crying out, asking why he would do this to you. The thought made his cock tighten in his jeans.

He reached down, palming himself through his jeans with a groan. Reliving the sounds of you choking and coughing up your own blood had his fingers working quickly to undo his belt. He tossed it to the side, practically ripping the button off his jeans as he pulled them down along with his underwear, allowing his dick to finally be free from the restrictive fabric.

He spat in his hand, gripping his cock and lubricating it. He caught his chapped lower lip between his teeth as swept his thumb over his pink head, smearing his precum across it. He let out a low moan, letting his hand travel up and down his dick at a slow, agonizing pace. He kept his eyes screwed shut, immersing himself in the memory of your murder as he stroked himself.

Patrick was not a moral man by any means but this was a new low. Getting himself off to you, in his mind, was no better than if he was imagining one of his dead animal playthings. You were nothing to him. You were roadkill.

But, for some reason, the fresh sight of you, wearing the clothes he killed you in with that dark blood stain right where he'd stabbed you, your hair all matted, and the cold, lifeless look in your eyes, made it so easy to relive that night in great detail.

It was the greatest night of his life. The biggest release of pressure he'd ever felt since he began getting those homicidal urges—those itches. He didn't think he'd ever get to feel that euphoria again, but fucking himself to the thought of it would get him pretty damn close.

He let out a strangled moan, his hips pushing into his hand as he came, and he was right, it was the second-best feeling he'd ever felt. It didn't compare to killing you, but it was enough to satiate his urges once again.

He laid there, panting for what felt like hours. The time moved by so slowly until finally, the sound of the alarm block beside his bed blaring pulled him from his thoughts.

The red numbers reading 7:30 blinked slowly, reminding him that he had to get up and get ready for school. He leaned over, smacking the top of the clock roughly to silence it before falling back flat on his bed, preparing himself to get up.

He groaned, pushing himself up and grabbing a random pair of jeans and a shirt that smelled clean enough. He quickly got dressed before making his way back downstairs. He knew Belch would be here any second to pick him up—he always woke up later than he was realistically supposed to.

He slipped his boots on, and a few moments later, he heard Belch laying on his car horn. Rolling his eyes, he opened the door, heading outside and letting it slam just behind him.

"Calm your tits," he shouted in annoyance. Patrick always had a short fuse, but after the particularly restless night in which he'd been visited by some fucking ghost of Christmas Past, he found himself particularly irritable.

"Dude what happened yesterday?" Victor asked as Patrick climbed into the blue Trans Am.

"You were totally tripping the fuck out," Belch chimed in, starting the car and peeling out of Patrick's neighborhood.

"Dumb fuck can't handle his liquor," Henry scoffed from his spot in the passenger's seat.

"Shut the fuck up, Bowers," Patrick bit back, gazing out the window. "At least some of us don't piss our pants when we drink."

"It was one fucking time you dickhead!" Henry defended quickly, his cheeks turning red from the embarrassment.

At the feeling of someone's hand on his thigh, Patrick quickly looked over at Vic. "Don't fucking touch me you-" he paused just short of spitting some derogatory remark about Victor being gay and a freak when he saw you sitting between him and Victor, grinning at him darkly.

"What the fuck are you talking about, dude?" Victor asked, bewildered by Patrick's behavior. Patrick was always an odd one, but he never acted this weird.

"He probably smoked himself fucking dumb," Henry grumbled, still annoyed about the pants pissing remark.

You held a finger to your lips as climbed over onto his lap, holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself. You just wanted to rile him up a little, make him feel suffocated by you, like he could never escape. And truly, he couldn't. You were never going anywhere until you believed justice had properly been served, and you would take that in any form.

He glared at you, but you paid him no mind, leaning to whisper into his ear: "How cute," you condescended him. "You thought I would just go away." You dug your nails into his shoulders making him sharply inhale, trying not to tip off his friends to the seemingly unwarranted pain he was feeling. "You will never be rid of me," you whispered menacingly, looking deep into his eyes with a sickening grin that made nausea pool in his stomach.

In any other situation, having someone on his lap, digging their nails into his shoulders would probably have been a pleasurable experience, but this was not any other situation. This was a nightmare he couldn't seem to wake up from.

When Belch finally pulled into the school parking lot, Patrick couldn't get out of the car fast enough. You disappeared as he scrambled to unlock the door and get out, finally feeling like he could breathe. He pulled his shirt collar to the side, looking down at the angry red marks where your nails had been. They served as a disturbing reminder that you were really there, and you could do anything to him.

"You get laid last night, Hockstetter?" Belch asked, grinning as he saw the red marks.

"That why you ran off yesterday?" Henry snickered. "You pussy whipped?"

"At least, I actually get pussy," he sneered, paling as he heard your laugh echoing around him the moment the words slipped from his lips. It was a deafening sound. Like a mix between a cackle and a scream that seemed to permeate his surroundings.

His jaw clenched, eye twitching as he resisted the urge to cover his ears. Apart from not wanting to look insane, he also didn't think it would help much. You weren't around him. You were in him, in his head.

The bell could faintly be heard going off inside the school, making Victor curse under his breath. They had two minutes to get to class or they were late.

"Mrs. Denton's gonna throw a bitch fit if I'm late again," he groaned, watching as Henry lit a cigarette.

"Kiss ass," he remarked, taking a long drag before exhaling the puff of smoke into Belch's face as Victor walked away.

"You asshole," Belch coughed, shoving Henry.

"Oh, shit." Henry's eyes widened as he tossed his cigarette on the ground, quickly stomping it out. "Let's go," he ordered, making his way up the stairs to the front doors of the school, looking behind him frantically.

Patrick's eyebrows furrowed at the sudden shift in Henry's demeanor. He followed the brunette's gaze, his eyes locking with those of Butch Bowers, the sheriff.

"Wonder if they're here for you," your voice taunted him, breath tickling the back of his right ear. He turned, preparing to come face to face with that condescending smile you always seemed to be wearing, but you weren't there.

He looked back, finding Sheriff Bowers still staring at him, seemingly ignoring whatever the deputy was leaning into his ear to say. Patrick wasn't one to back down easily, but your presence, your warnings, had him on edge. He quickly advanced forward, his lengthy legs providing long strides as he followed suit in heading inside Derry Highschool.

The sounds of his heavy boots hitting the linoleum floor echoed through the empty hall as he made his way to his math class. Victor was right; Mrs. Densen was going to throw a bitch fit that he was late, but he didn't care. He wouldn't have cared on a normal day, but on this day, with the police sniffing around and you practically breathing down his neck, he cared even less—which he didn't even know was possible.

He pulled open the door to the classroom, a hush falling over the students as he entered. Most stared at him wide-eyed, some avoided looking at him altogether, and he briefly caught Vic looking at him with sympathy. The teacher, however, was glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Mr. Hockstetter, late again I see," she said pointedly. "You've earned yourself a detention after school today." Patrick stifled a laugh as he made his way to his seat at the very back of the classroom. "Is something funny?" She asked, her tone displaying clear annoyance.

"Yeah, that you think I care," he rolled his eyes, slipping into his desk. He tuned out whatever lecture the teacher decided to give him after that. His gaze drifted to the empty desk in the front row— the one you used to sit at.

"Don't go feeling remorseful now," you said into his ear. He felt your arm around his shoulders as you leaned down, your face positioned next to his. He turned to look at you, and you turned to look at him, your faces almost touching.

your breath fanned across his face, the moment oddly intimate until you grinned at him, opening your mouth and emitting an ear piercing scream.

"Ah," he grunted in pain, his eyes screwing shut, and his hands gripping his ears. It felt like his eardrums were seconds away from bursting and causing blood to pour out of his ears. "Shut the fuck up!" He yelled, the room, and you, falling dead silent immediately after the words left him.

He peeled his eyes open, his hands falling as he looked around. "Excuse me, Mr. Hockstetter," the teacher gasped, clearly taken aback by his outburst. "Take yourself to the principal's office right this instant!" She ordered him.

His blood began to boil as he stood up abruptly, storming out of the classroom and slamming the door behind him. He was getting very very sick and tired of your little games. He headed toward the back door of the school, not wanting to cross paths with Henry's dad.

"This doesn't look like the way to the principal's office," you mused, appearing beside him. He stopped, turning to shove you against the locker. He groaned when his arms made contact with the locker instead of your body, and your laugh echoed behind him. "You think you can hurt me, how cute."

He let out a frustrated groan, smashing his fists against the locker. He couldn't stand you. He couldn't stand having someone that he couldn't manipulate or hurt but that could manipulate and hurt him. "What do you want with me?" He asked, refusing to look at you.

"To break you," you grinned. "To have you begging for it to stop."

Yeah, right he thought.

He was Patrick fucking Hockstetter; he didn't beg. He didn't bend to the will of others, especially not some dead bitch. He was determined not to let you win. You would eventually get tired of tormenting him and go back to wherever the fuck you came from. He was sure of it.

Oh, how he underestimated your patience and overestimated his resilience.

He lasted exactly a week. A week of you screaming and poking and scratching and fucking with his head. A week of people staring at him like he was insane with his random outbursts and talking to the air. A week of torment before you finally had him right where you wanted him.

"Just leave me alone!" He begged, standing in the middle of his room with his head in his hands. You had finally drove him to the brink of insanity, and he didn't know how much longer he could live like this. You, being everywhere all the time, taunting and touching and teasing, it was too much for him. He couldn't take it anymore. "Go away!"

You tsked, grinning at him, that condescending grin that filled him with indescribable rage. How could you look at him like that? Like he was stupid? You were the stupid one. You were killed by him not the other way around!

"I'm afraid that's not how this works," you told him, shaking your head slightly. "I get to stay until you give me what I want." You took a step, punctuating the next words you said with a pause between each one and another step forward. "However. Long. It. Takes."

"What the fuck do you want from me?" He yelled, desperate to get you away from him forever.

"Well," you drawled, running your index finger along his chest, making him flinch. You smiled at the effect you had on him. He talked a big game, getting mad when you left—cursing, throwing things, even—having the audacity to fuck himself to the thought of your murder— but when it came to being face to face with you, he cowered away.

Ain't nothing like a little fear to make a paper man crumble as Henry Bowers' father once said.

"I'll be nice and give you a choice," you said darkly. "You can turn yourself in," you almost laughed at the way his demeanor hardened. "Which we both know you're too proud and stubborn to do," you continued. The intrigue behind Patrick's eyes was undeniable as he eagerly awaited his second choice. "Or," you trailed off, grabbing a razor from his dresser and holding it in front of his face. "You can die."

"You're a crazy bitch!" He shouted, though his inability to mask the tremble in his voice made him sound less than threatening.

"Maybe," you shrugged, admiring the sharp piece of metal. "Hmm," you hummed. "I wonder how you'll feel about me in another week," you asked thoughtfully. "I bet you'll be wishing you took the chance while you had it."

His jaw clenched at your words. He'd already lost a considerable amount of sleep because of you, and the thought of you tormenting him any longer was a fate worse than death. "Why don't you just kill me?" He asked defeatedly. You'd backed him into a corner that he was positive he couldn't get out of without doing things your way.

"I'm not you, Patrick," you spat hatefully. "I don't kill people or things."

"What? Like driving me to suicide is any better?" He scoffed, challenging your sense of superiority over him.

"You have an informed choice," you told him, trying to regain your calm. You didn't like losing your temper, especially not to the likes of Patrick Hockstetter, scum of the earth. "That's a luxury you didn't extend to me."

He eyed the blade in your hand warily. He didn't like accepting defeat. He would never admit to killing you. Being confined to a tiny room, unable to satiate that burning itch deep inside him whenever he needed; it would drive him mad.

"Go on," you urged him softly, holding the razor out for him to take. "Put yourself out of your misery. End it all and be free."

He looked between you and the blade hesitantly, a million thoughts running through his mind as he tried to make a decision. Glaring at you, he took the blade. A scowl formed on his face as he observed the triumphant expression that you seemed to wear immediately after he made his choice.

"Two deep cuts, and you'll never have to see me again," you assured him. That all but sealed the deal. Patrick didn't believe in heaven or hell and death didn't scare him. Being caged like one of the many animals he's so cruelly killed scared him more than dying. He walked over to his bed, sitting on the edge.

He sucked in a breath, pressing the blade into his wrist and dragging it upward toward his inner elbow. He clenched his teeth, deeply inhaling through them. A groan of pain fell from his lips as he felt the warm blood begin seeping from his wound, running down his arms and onto his jeans. He continued the action on the other arm, feeling nauseous and lightheaded.

The blade fell from his trembling fingers, clattering to the floor as he fell back onto the bed. His head felt foggy, and the pain began to melt away into numbness. His eyes began to droop, and he faintly saw your outline standing above him.

He just barely felt you lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. His ears began to ring as his eyes fell shut. The words you spoke next were the last he would hear before his heart slowed to an eventual stop. He almost couldn't make them out, the sound muffled, as if he was underwater, but his mind used its last bit of energy to process them before giving out.

"Goodbye, Patrick Hockstetter," you said softly. "May you burn in hell."

tags! : @fatfagsj , @mysticalhills , @simpingforthe80s , @slasherho , @pinkpanther-44 , @slaggylemon , @kyranisnotdead , @ladydragiiss ,

[zarla-s]

I just read your TF2 bot post and I’m fascinated. It has left me with a few questions though. Why/how were bots a problem for so long? What was the main incentive for botting (is it botting or boting??) Was it just to be an asshole? What’s your favorite baked good? Have a lovely day and don’t worry about answering my questions if you’re not in the mood :]

The bots were a problem for so long because Valve just didn't care, sorry to say. They just let it happen. I'm not sure when they started coming in in force, maybe after the Jungle Inferno update like six years ago? But they just kept pouring in and Valve just ignored it. It's really shameful how bad they let it get, honestly. They just kept putting out community updates like nothing was wrong.

Eventually after a lot of community pressure a year ago (#savetf2) they tweeted saying they were aware of the problem and then nothing happened. Then there was ANOTHER community movement this June (#fixtf2), and THEN at the end of June they ACTUALLY did something, which is why everyone was so shocked and skeptical at the time. Like the bots got so bad, it's hard to get across just how bad it got if you weren't playing at the time. It was bad. To suddenly go from that to totally bot-free was unbelievable. Frankly I'm still shocked they're gone! No one knows why Valve's acting now or how they're doing it (personally, I think they must have been working on these anti-bot measures for a while... maybe even since their initial tweet, but no one knows), but I hope they keep it up. I can finally teach people how to play in peace!

As for why they'd do this, yeah, it's just to be jerks. They just want to make people miserable. They have websites on Neocities you can find under the tf2 tag (I was looking through it for sites to link to my tf2 site) and they state themselves that they just like making people mad. I don't think they actually hate TF2 so much as they love the power rush from destroying something so famous that so many people love. Kind of a power-trip/control thing, with a dose of being desperate for attention. A lot of the more notorious bot hosters had twitters or youtube accounts where they invited people to rage at them uselessly, they loved it. They've also formed communities around botting and trolling people, so they have kind of a social investment in it (although they were quick to turn on each other when they suspected someone was a mole). Some of them sell their bot software or "bot immunity" for money but I think that was just pocket change, I don't think that was a real motivator.

After having free reign for so long, they reacted violently to the community movement in June. They were positive that nothing would happen to them, so they kept doing more and more outrageous things to prove it. They DDoS'd and DMCA'd the site for the petition multiple times, they doxxed and swatted one of the main bot fighters, they impersonated figureheads and posted illegal links to things, like they were really stepping over the line and gloating about it. They were extremely confident and to be fair, who could blame them? Valve's negligence let them get away with it for years. To suddenly have that power taken away from them without warning made them absolutely furious. They're still seething about it right now and plotting ways to get back in, but they haven't found one yet. It's a matter of pride for them at this point I think, that and a childish tantrum about not being able to ruin other people's fun anymore. Them targeting a baby game version of TF2 (TC2) also points to it being a power trip. If they can't ruin TF2 anymore then by god they've got to ruin SOMEthing!

Even now I'm not sure Valve can hold the line and I keep checking TF2 Casual every now and then to look for bots, haha. It's just hard to believe! I greatly enjoy hearing about bot hosters raging about it and suffering though, they deserve nothing less. Die mad about it!!!

In terms of baked goods though I like all kinds, although right now I'm thinking about brownies so I'll say that. |D

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion x f!Reader. Over the Seas and far away

Got the idea from this post . The blog is, unfourtanetely, deleted but the idea stuck with me. So, Astarion is now mortal. No more drinking blood, hiding in shadows and hunger.

What's next?

Masterlist

Headcanons

You let out a tired yawn, your gaze fixed on the merciless morning sun. It's been months since Astarion regained his mortality, ceasing to be a vampire, and you're still adjusting to the idea of sleeping at night and walking in daylight.

Honestly, it's tougher than you thought.

But you are happy Astarion no longer suffers. No more drinking blood; now he can enjoy regular food. No more lurking in the shadows; the sun doesn't burn him. No more insatiable hunger. No more invisible barriers at the doorways. It's all in the past.

You roll over to your right side, yearning to face Astarion, caress him gently in his slumber, perhaps even to steal a kiss or simply cuddle, silently pleading for him not to get up. Since the moment his once icy body warmed and his heart started beating again, you've clung to him, never wanting to let go.

But he's not there.

With a sigh, you reluctantly crawl out of the tent and scan your surroundings, squinting against the sunlight.

Last night, the two of you set up a small camp on the forest's edge, about a mile from the sea coast. Gods, it's been years since you last saw the ocean.

You look around, spotting Astarion standing there, half-naked, his arms outstretched and a radiant smile gracing his face as he bathes in the warmth of the sunlight. His eyes are closed, and you can't help but notice the trails of tears glistening on his cheeks.

He still can't quite believe he's no longer a vampire.

And truth be told, neither can you.

You vividly recall the tears that streamed down your face when you thought he was gone for good, when you believed he was dead. Then, in the most unexpected moments, you stumbled upon that strange scroll tucked away in an ancient treasure chest. An unknown spell, its words echoing in the temple.

And then came the gasp, followed by a deep, life-giving breath. Astarion opened his eyes, his right hand pressed to his chest, and he muttered, "Love, I feel so strange. What's happened to me?"

You can still feel the rush of emotions as you embraced him, tears streaming down your face, and stared into his eyes in disbelief.

Not crimson eyes of a vampire.

But beautiful hazel eyes of a wood elf.

… You admire him from the distance. His hair got darker in the first hours of his new life, returning to its natural color. It hurts you to think about the unimaginable horrors that made Astaron turn grey in the first place.

But you sometimes miss his white curls.

Finally, you approach Astarion, wrapping your arms around him from behind and resting your cheek against his back. Unfortunately, the scars remained, a permanent reminder of his master's cruelty.

Astarion gently touches your knuckles.

"Awake already, my love?"

"I want to sleep," you pout, hugging him tightly.

"Then keep sleeping, and I'll go fetch us some food," Astarion suggests, covering your hands with his palms.

"But I don't want to sleep alone," your voice filled with vulnerability.

"Then you'll have to wait until sunset. I wouldn't want to miss a single moment of this newfound daylight," Astarion replies with a grin.

You giggle playfully, "I must admit, I loved you more when you were a creature of the night." Your words carry a teasing tone without any intention to hurt.

"Well, darling, if you preferred me as a creature of the night, then you shouldn't have resurrected me," Astarion quips with a playful smirk. He turns around and draws you close, pressing you gently against his chest. You focus on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It's a sensation that will never grow old, but you can't forget the initial shock when you felt it for the first time.

Your gaze meets his, and you become entranced by the beauty and warmth of his hazel eyes. They hold an irresistible charm. Your fingers tenderly trace through Astarion's dark curls and caress his cheeks. In response, Astarion gently touches the tips of your ears, a tender connection between you two.

You planted a kiss on his bare chest.

"Stop, or…" he groans.

"Or what?" you playfully respond, immediately ceasing your actions.

"Or instead of going hunting, I will drag you back to the tent. And we'll both stay hungry. Don't forget, we both need food now," Astarion reminds you.

Laughter escapes your lips, and Astarion cups your face, his eyes searching yours as if rediscovering you.

"Something on your mind?" you inquire.

He nods, releasing his hands.

"What are we going to do now? I mean… first, we were trying to get rid of the tadpoles, then searching for a cure. But now…"

He sighs.

"I want to experience life to its fullest, but I don't know how. Of course, we could settle down somewhere, but that's not what I want right now."

You shrug.

"I don't want to make that decision for you."

"We'll have to make decisions together, for both of us. Unless you're planning on leaving me," Astaron says, vulnerability evident in his voice.

"Why would I?" you reply, offering reassurance with a warm smile.

"Maybe you had a vampire kink all these years, and now you just don't like me anymore."

You playfully push Astarion to the ground, and he yields, falling onto his back with a laugh.

"I. DON'T. HAVE. KINKS", you say, "Especially the ones that make you miserable."

"But do you really miss me drinking your blood?" he asks with a mischievous grin.

"Maybe just a little. But only a little," you reply, a hint of humor in your voice.

There's a moment of silence as you admire his face, noticing the tiny freckles on his cheek – sun marks. You think about the handsome young elf who once walked the streets of Baldur's Gate, utterly unaware of the horrors that future held, horrors that would turn his eyes red, his skin pale, and his hair grey.

"I want to sail across the sea," Astarion finally says, his voice filled with longing. "To see the world beyond Faerun. I want… freedom."

You kneel beside him, your eyes filled with excitement.

"Piracy."

"Excuse me?" Astarion raises an eyebrow.

"Piracy, Astarion. Think about it. What was your life like before? You couldn't see the sun, you couldn't cross the running water, you couldn't enter anywhere without being invited. But piracy… the open sea. Going wherever you want without needing an invitation. Feeling the sun on your skin. Come on, Astarion, it will be so much fun!"

"We'll hire a crew in one of the taverns," he adds, caught up in the idea. "Promising them a fair share of what we get."

"But where do we find the ship?" you wonder.

"We'll get the crew first and then tell them to seize one."

"You already think like a pirate," you tease.

"Maybe I always did," Astarion grins.

He stands up and takes you in his hands.

"I love you," he whispers.

"I love you too," you reply, kissing him back. "Imagine the lands we can see."

"And the people we can rob," he playfully adds.

"And then, when we're old and rich, we'll settle down far away from here, sponsoring other pirate crews and settling quarrels between them."

You melt in his warm embrace. Astarion keeps holding you as if afraid you'll disappear. He finally releases your hand and retrieves his bow and arrows from the ground.

"I still need to fetch that deer for dinner," Astarion remarks.

"See you at sunset," you reply with a smile.

Astarion leaves the camp and disappears into the woods. Nothing about him reminds you of the long-dead elf magistrate of Baldur's Gate or the vampire who once suffered from pain and nightmares.

This wood elf with hazel eyes now walks the forests with easy grace, fearing nothing and no one.

"Well, the seas it is, then. Let's see what we can do," you say to yourself, filled with anticipation and excitement for the adventures ahead.

[gojosbf]

why do you think that female char are no longer well written on jjk? /genq (i am caught up with the manga so don't worry about spoilers)

SPOILERS AHEAD!!! for me all of this began with nobara's death and it went downhill from there, now see I understand it might've been important to give yuuji motivation etc but when a roach naoya get's to survive again and again after getting killed but there is no hope for nobara who was one touch kill and had chances of survival but doesn't purely for shock factor, it doesn't sit right with me.

Okay, ignore even that maybe it's my attachment to the character talking so let's talk about other female characters: most of the fandom forgets momo exists that's how useless he made her, she suffered no serious damage (not as far as I remember) and her only active role was in kyoto goodwill arc and an appearance in shibuya we barely see her after that.

Gege treats female characters as a catalyst for mcs, either they're completely useless or get killed off or even if they're powerful enough they're barely mentioned or shown doing something useful.

Example for catalyst: We literally never really see Utahime in action except in Shinjuku Battle to boost Gojo's ct. Like really? That's your semi grade 1 sorcerer and all throughout the manga that was her only role?

Example for completely useless: I already talked about momo, lets about miwa okay, she put her everything to that one swing post-shibuya against kenjaku only for him to deflect it with his bare hands and what about her after that? Nothing!! She gave up everything and now she cannot do anything, just another cheap tactic to get rid of another useful character.

Example for killed: Listen I will accept Mai's death because it served the purpose and was one of the most impressive parts but other than that? Yuki Tsukumo, the special grade, the star plasma that rejected even tengen and cornered kenjaku, her death was so anticlimactic and unsatisfactory, she was practically winning but apparently "a miscalculation" caused her death, listen I like a shocking plot twist and death but that seemed like nothing but an excuse to get rid of another strong female character because gege had no idea how he'd use her in future.

More example for catalyst: Tsumiki and Yorozu (aka the same body but!) she was such a driving force for Megumi but after Culling Game arc hit we got a tease of her (or them) and that provided more motivation for megumi to fix things to work harder to bring his sister back but instead of seeing more of her gege killed her off after sukuna took over megumi's body because her purpose was served!! Done. She was there as long as she could be used as a beacon of hope for our poor boy.

Example of if powerful then they're barely shown: Shoko and Mei Mei, we know both of them are quite capable, they've proved their worth and aside from the fact that Mei Mei is a fucking pedophile she's still a great sorcerer but now she doesn't care about sorcerers and henceforth isn't present/doesn't provide much or any help at all other than the telecast. Shoko on the other hand, we're supposed to believe that her using rct is special and she's one of the most important characters mind you she's the part of the og trio but we rarely get to see her. Even know (the up to date manga chapters) they keep talking about taking the injured sorcerers to shoko but they never !! show !! her !! in !! action !! Like c'mon she's been working overtime but SOMEHOW gege can't dedicate more than four panels to her?

Now onto Maki, the only one standing, the only female character gege truly utilised gave her one heck of goal and arc and then very conveniently forgot her for next 100 chapters. She's great yes, and gege's finally back to currently giving her the attention she deserves which I am very skeptical about because if he just kills her off in next chapter to make a statement istg...but everytime she's mentioned they HAVE to mention toji, it's almost like she'll never leave his shadow, all her achievements are boiled down to FEMALE TOJI which, don't get me wrong I love toji but she's more than that, she's a monster because she wiped out a whole clan not because she shares same superhuman powers as her predecessor and dare I say she's already surpassed toji at this point.

Let's not forget Uro and Angel/Hana whom gege brought in once for one job and then we all completely forgot about them. (I am mentioning them last because he's done this with many other characters so they're truly not an unique case in that sense)

Returning back to when jjk first was fairly new and we had these panels

it was hype we thought FINALLY!!!! she doesn't denounce her femininity but isn't used as a fan service material through them either and she's fucking nuts and strong FINALLY!!! only for gege to go well now that you've had the crumbs you're getting neither, not the pretty ones nor the strong ones and even if they're strong I am going to act like they don't exist so have fun!! And that's why I think he's really downgraded.

[uniquevoidflowers]

Hey not sure if you're still doing the send a character and a word promt thing but if you are how about Four and hairbrush

Sure thing!

Continuation of this post (I had no other ideas :P) :

Four watched as the captain brushed Legend's hair with a blue hairbrush and the vet didn't make any comments or anything. In fact his eyes were distant, and it was like he wasn't really present. Something soft in him told him to go and see if the veteran was okay. Four sighed. Maybe later, he told that soft part.

Legend and him weren't very close. It wasn't that they disliked each other, far from that, but they were never really close as they are with the rest of their brothers. How would Legend feel if Four tried to comfort him anyway? As he mulled over this the sailor nudged him with a contemplative look on his face. "Is the vet okay, do you think?"

"I don't know." Four answered truthfully. "What do you think?"

"Well, the vet never zones out like this. He's always pretty alert, listening to whatever's around him. I...don't think he's okay." Wind said.

"We'll see what happens then." Four said, shifting uncomfortably.

He did want to make sure Legend was okay. Close or not, they were at least friends and Four didn't want to watch him suffer in silence. The scenario that played in the smith's head was awkward and got nothing accomplished. What would he say? Legend was guarded, Four didn't know if he would be able to lower down the walls the vet had put up. "Your eyes are green now." Wind observed.

The smithy scoffed. "Okay."

The sailor snickered. "Sorry, that wasn't a complete thought. What I meant was, to ask you if they change based on your emotions."

"Sort of." Four replied, absently.

He didn't feel like explaining it right now. The sailor grumbled something under his breath. "Aaaand I'm done!" Warriors announced, loudly.

The vet continued to sit there and stare into the distance. The captain tapped his shoulder lightly. "Veteran? Ledge?"

The vet came back to, and scowled at the captain. "Hylia, you'd think for a Hero of Courage, you'd be more alert." Warriors said jokingly but Legend didn't respond.

"Speak for yourself, cap." Time called.

For some reason that made Legend's fists clench, and his eyes glimmer with sadness. Four bit his lip slightly.

"Are you done?" Legend asked quietly.

"Yeah, hair's all brushed and stuff. Remind me to wash your hair later." Warriors waved a hand around dismissively.

The veteran stood up and left, making some comment about going on a patrol. Four found himself listening to his heart and he said he was going to patrol with Legend. He caught up to Legend who's ears drooped. "Leave me alone."

Four was not surprised to hear the tears, thick in the vet's voice, yet it still made his heart ache. "Are you okay?" Four asked, a bit timidly.

Legend looked back, eyes widened slightly. "Oh...Four...?"

"You didn't answer my question."

The vet kicked a rock and turned his back on the smith. "Yeah, m'fine."

Bullshit.

"I won't tell the others...And you don't even have to tell me why...just don't lie."

"Fine." A deep breath. "I'm not okay, but I'll be better soon."

"You know, once I met this really stubborn old man. He uh, accompanied me on one of my quests." Four began, despite something in him telling him to stop.

"As stubborn as our old man?" Legend asked, with a smirk on his face.

Four laughed. "Oh no, way more stubborn if you can believe that. But um, he must've had a soft spot for me no matter how much he denied it."

"Past tense?" Legend said softly.

"Yeah. He's alive but, I can't see him anymore." Four gave a shrug. "Anyway, I always pushed myself to be more than I was, because I wanted to save Ze-Dot. He asked me how I was, and I said I was fine. He believed me for the first few times. I didn't address my problems and they grew worse. Until the old man assured me there was nothing wrong with not being okay. So, I told him everything, he called me an idiot and we worked things out.

Sorry that's not a very good explanation but what I'm saying is, it's okay not to be fine."

Legend hummed. "Thanks."

Four kept walking, eyes on the ground. "I mean it." Legend said. "It's...nice to hear."

The smith gave a nod. Legend drew in a deep breath. "And you know, there's not much I can do. It was a memory of someone I lost on my first adventure."

"Hug?" Four offered, because the soft part of him really wanted to hug Legend right now.

"I...sure." Legend let Four wrap his arms around him. Legend snorted. "You're really short. Dare I say, even smaller than Wind."

Four glared at him. "Say it again. I dare you."

The vet shrugged. "Nah. I'm good actually."

"That's what I thought." Four said.

The trees and bushes rustled behind them, a light breeze accompanying it. "30 rupees the captain's doing the champion's hair?" Legend smirked.

"...10. 30's way too much."

"25."

"20."

"Deal."

[throughthetwistedmirror]

Direct Message ~ *Cater Diamond*

Summary: It started as a DM on MagicCam. Who would have thought he'd find the love of his life?

Pairing: Cater Diamond X G/N!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 962

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

Taglist: @savanaclaw1996 @goseew

It started with a DM on his MagiCam account. At first, Cater didn't think much of it. He thought it was some fan trying to ask him out. But on second thought, he decided to open it. Who knows? Perhaps it was some kind of threat that he needed to report?

Instead, he got a simple message: Hey, I like what you post! You're really cool!

It didn't say much, really. Cater got those kinds of comments all the time on his posts. But this was a direct message. And for some reason, it felt more sincere and genuine. It made his heart stutter in his chest.

So of course he had to tell Trey all about it! He spent an hour overanalyzing the content of the message over and over and over again, trying to get an idea of what prompted the person to message him. It also didn't help that he spent at least twenty minutes scrolling through their account.

When Trey mentioned he should message them back, Cater freaked out and went on a thirty minute tirade on why he simply could not do that! The person who messaged him, they were cool and charming and absolutely way out of his league. To DM them back, that would be like breaking the ultimate rule! However, Trey eventually got to say that it was also impolite to leave someone on read.

So for the next hour and a half, he painstakingly crafted the perfect message to send back: Thanks! I like the stuff you post too!

After he sent it, he hated every word.

But almost immediately, he got a message back: Aww, thank you! Hey, do you know the address of the cafe in your third photo? It looks amazing!

And just like that, he sparked a conversation with the person who DM'd him. There wasn't a second in the day he didn't have his nose in his phone, typing message after message to the random person who messaged him first. At first, the others thought it was kind of sweet he found someone he liked so much and could relate to. But the longer it went on, the more Cater got obnoxious about it.

"Oh my Seven! You know my friend on MagiCam loves that kind of dessert!"

"My friend on MagiCam just sent me the funniest joke! I have to show you!"

"I just found out my friend on MagiCam is studying to be a mage too! Isn't that so cool?"

Riddle was the one who told Trey to pull Cater aside and tell him to do something about his friend on MagiCam. The Heartslabyul dorm leader wasn't one to condone relationships, believing they interfered with school work, but even he could see that Cater's work was suffering by not being in a relationship.

Trey decided to take the easy and subtle approach. He invited Cater into the kitchen and made him a snack before casually asking what kind of snacks his friend liked. Obviously, he turned it into a whole lecture of what they like and don't like to eat. When he could finally get a word in edgewise, Trey asked if he would consider inviting them over for some food or something like that.

Cater froze at the insinuation. "Oh no, I can't do that! That's a thing couples do! You should know that, Trey!"

"But don't you like them like that?" He countered.

His friend blushed. "N-no."

"That's what I thought." Trey rolled his eyes before placing a comforting hand on Cater's shoulder. "You like them. They like you. At the very least the two of you should meet in person. See if you still like each other outside of MagiCam and could possibly make a relationship work. It couldn't hurt to try."

"It could ruin everything! What if I don't like them in person? That could ruin our entire friendship!" Cater wailed.

"You won't know if you don't try. Besides, I know you. You will always be curious about what your friend is like no matter what. Might as well take the leap now."

After much debate and consideration, Cater decided to do the impossible. He messaged his friend to meet him for tea. And of course, they said yes.

In the time leading up to the fateful meeting, Cater was an absolute wreck. Ace often joked that he was like Riddle right before an Unbirthday Party. But he couldn't help it! He was about to meet the person he harbored secret romantic feelings for! How could he not be nervous?

When the day came, the garden was immaculately decorated and Cater was wearing his best clothes. He kept playing with his hair and chewing on his bottom lip as he waited for them. He was worried they were going to be late or not even show up.

But right when the clock struck tea time, there they were. Or rather, there you were, in your Royal Sword Academy uniform. Even in real life, your eyes were still as bright and your smile still as adorable. You were like a MagiCam post come to life. And it gave Cater some relief.

"Hi!" You cheerfully greeted him. "It's an absolute treat to meet you in real life, Cater!"

His heart flipped at your voice and he nodded, trying not to get too tongue-tied. "It's a pleasure to meet you too. Shall we?"

He felt his mouth go dry as you took his arm and smiled at him so bright, it almost blinded him. "Lead the way, Cay-Cay."

It was at that moment he knew; you were more perfect than any MagiCam post he could ever like. And he also knew he owed Trey big time for the push to meet you in real life.

[kiankiwi]

Graceland Theater - watched the 68 special + Love me Tender

Okay I feel like this part of my Graceland trip deserved its own post... those of you who know me and are friends with me on here know I suffer from MAJOR/SEVERE ANXIETY...

One of my BIG triggers for anxiety has always been movie theaters (last time I FORCED myself to the movies was june 6th 2014 for TFIOS)

SO! Elvis and this fandom has helped me tremendously with so many things including my mental health and my confidence and things and I would DO ANYTHING for Elvis... as would many of you of course. SO I really really wanted to see the movies at the guesthouse especially since they were elvis movies... but didn't know if I could sit in an enclosed theater for 2 hours... But I knew if it was too much I could always leave...

BUT I DID IT! I was able to focus on E and got through both movie showings! AND ENJOYED IT IMMENSELY!

One of my anxious tells is I'll cross my arms over my middle and grab a fistful of my sweatshirt and I did that for a bit while I was watching the 68 Special but I calmed myself and enjoyed the rest of it.

I'm so happy I was able to do this and finally enjoy a movie for once and experienced something I thought I'd never get to experience again... going to see a movie.. such a normal thing that I COULD NOT do years ago.

I probably will never go to see a normal movie, did it just for elvis.. I always feel like he's there for me and cheering me on when I'm struggling too which really helps.

SO I am onto watch the rest of E's movies... which one should I watch next? Either King Creole or Speedway!

I can't believe I was able to do this... you have no idea how proud of myself I am... it seems such a small thing but omg you have no idea how much i used to struggle with it.

Just wanted to tell you guys and share what E has helped me with ❤

@elvispresleywifey @bellanotchewrites @elvisthesillygoose @mooodyblue @vintagepresley

[fonulyn]

fon's 2023 in fic

so in order to distract myself from yet another fic flopping miserably i'm gonna do the compilation of all the flops from the entire year! :'D

a big big thank you to those of you who said nice words about my stuff, who left comments on the fics, and who helped me finish surprisingly many works this year. i am truly grateful for every single lovely comment i got! 💖 that is what kept me going, what made things feel worthwhile, and what helped me through many a dark moment.

i do still have works in progress but at the same time this sort of feels like a goodbye. idk. we'll see. but I can't keep pouring from an empty chalice and the fandom clearly does not want to help me fill it so we're at an impasse :'D it feels increasingly much that exiting stage left is the right move, as much as i don't want to and as much as it hurts to let go. but I digress.

on a more positive note, I can, hand to heart, say that I am extremely pleased with pretty much everything i wrote this year :D it's got to count for something, right!

ANYHOO I posted 217k words this year, and it includes:

21 Piers/Leon

5 Krauser/Leon

3 main Piers/Leon and heavily featured past Krauser/Leon

2 OT3

1 Chris/Leon

1 Tyrants/Leon

1 Jake/Piers

1 Marcus/Dom (Gears of War)

fic links and short summaries under the cut.

Piers/Leon

good to be prepared | E | 9k | Leon gets stuck in a snow storm when his car breaks down, and a handsome stranger saves him from the roadside. It ends up in a fun night together but that's only the very beginning for them.

'cause you know the love we have is always gonna be | T | 6.7k | Finally they get to say "I do" to each other.

bad exes and a better future | T | 2.9k | Leon's very jealous ex does not know when to quit, and refuses to believe Leon wants nothing to do with him. So, logically, Leon kisses Piers to prove a point. Thankfully Piers is all in.

i crave therefore i am | E | 7k | Piers has been half in love with Leon for what feels like forever, but there's nothing he can do about it when Leon is in a long term relationship. ...Except he's not.

as long as you'll have me | T | 5.2k | Leon gets infected on a mission, then has to suffer through treatment for an infection. Thankfully Piers is there to help, in more ways than one.

you're a dream | E | 23k | Piers Nivans is eleven years old when he starts dreaming of death and monsters. It takes him well over a decade to find his soulmate, and even then, it's not all easy.

that heaven in your eyes | E | 2.7k | They finally get the honeymoon they deserve.

light in the darkest place | M | 3.6k (WIP) | Leon and Piers grew up together, and when at twenty-one they both got a job at the RPD they thought it was a giant stroke of luck. They had no idea their first day was going to be one hell of a long day.

a shadow of devotion | M | 6.9k | There's a new superhero in town, and Piers ends up being more closely acquainted with him than he ever expected. He's not complaining, tho.

before i even knew your name | M | 6.6k | Leon gets an accidental text sent into the wrong number and it ends up changing his life for the better. Soon he's flirting via texts with this stranger, and before he even notices he's grown feelings.

a dinner to remember | E | 4.4k | Leon wears a nice dress to welcome Piers home.

too much is all that I can feel | T | 4.2k | Leon gets hurt, again, and while he’s concussed and loopy from bloodloss he tries his best to flirt with Piers.

memories beneath the dust of years | T | 1.2k | Piers relives the worst time of his life in a dream, and Leon is there to support him through it.

in the end it's you and I | T | 3.5k | The sound of metal crushing was the worst. It screeched in Leon’s ears even when the car had stopped completely, finally meeting a big enough tree trunk down the hill. He's alone, injured, and unable to leave his car. Might this be the end?

time to finally breathe again | T | 3.4k | Leon tries to bury his feelings but then gets buried underground. Thankfully Piers is there to help. On both counts.

those nights | M | 5k | Leon and his difficult relationship with sleep throughout the years.

life is a chance to try | T | 5.2k |  Piers and Leon have been parents for mere months, and it’s become obvious their daughter isn’t entirely an ordinary human.

everything I've kept inside me | T | 5.5k | The one with severe injuries, some reminiscing, and finally sort of a retirement. Oh, and a blowjob pillow.

at the shore of the unknown | M | 26k | The world ends, but Piers and Leon find each other.

a merry little christmas (make the yuletide gay) | T | 5.7k | Piers and Leon and their first holidays as a married couple in their own home, of course with a visit from those closest to them.

right from the start | E | 19k | Leon gets some unexpected backup on his rogue mission in the Eastern Slav Republic. And it doesn't end there. (Much to his delight.)

Krauser/Leon

question all my doubts | E | 10k | Leon gets back home from Spain only to find none other than Jack fucking Krauser bleeding onto his living room floor. And no matter how many times Leon tries to walk away from Krauser he always ends up back to him.

(it might've been love but) it's over now | T | 1.4k | Krauser is dead and had no next of kin, so Leon goes through his scarce apartment to sort through the meager belongings left behind, while also sorting through his own mess of emotions.

(no one ever died from) wanting too much | M | 1.4k | Krauser gets injured but he can only focus on the dirty thoughts he has about Leon, while Leon tends to those injuries.

my tragedy and my desire | M | 2k |  Leon struggles through the mission to rescue the president's daughter, constantly feeling like he’s being stalked. He has no idea how right he is about that. And how bad things will end for him.

my religion my certain death my salvation my sacrilege | E | 2k | Krauser keeps Leon as his sex-slave. (sequel to my tragedy and my desire)

Piers/Leon with heavily featured Krauser or Krauser/Leon

all the tears and the fears and the lies and the cries of the past | E | 16k | Krauser kidnaps Leon on Wesker’s orders to use as bait. Piers heads out to save him, together with Chris and Jill. Things get really messy.

tear me open (and make me whole again) | M | 7.6k | Piers disappears, and soon after Leon starts receiving videos from an unknown email address. It's bad enough that Krauser is back, but watching him torture Piers to get back at Leon might just be the worst thing Leon has ever been through in his life.

haunt you like it's part of you | E | 3.7k | Krauser brands Leon as his own, ruining him for all others. For a while it seems he's won, but eventually Leon gets the happy ending he deserves.

OT3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

never without you | T | 1.6k | Leon is tired, so tired, but Piers and Chris will not let him give up.

wish you were here | T | 2k | (pre-OT3) Chris is pathetically pining after Leon, doesn't even let himself examine his feelings for Piers, and then on top of it all he gets kidnapped.

Chris/Leon

whatever comes our way | T | 1.1k | Leon almost drowns and Chris panics.

Tyrants/Leon

buried so deep within | E | 3.6k | Leon finds out there's two tyrants. The tyrants find out that Leon can be used for all sorts of fun things.

Jake/Piers

pull me closer to life | T | 3.8k | Jake and Sherry save Piers when he thinks he’s left behind to die at the underwater facility. Then somehow, Jake never leaves.

Marcus/Dom (largely featured past Maria/Dom)

no battle like that of life | E | 3.7k | After losing damn near everything, Dom learns to live again. Marcus helps.

[aimbutmiss]

Saw this post of yours: https://www.tumblr.com/aimbutmiss/740229617026220032/maybe-this-is-just-me-projecting-on-buggy-because

and I have to say I love it sm?? yk what it makes me think of? The song I can’t help but wonder from epic the musical, where Telemachus and Odysseus (a father/son duo who haven’t seen each other in TWENTY years) finally meet again. And it’s like, giving Buggy and the ghost of Roger or smth.

https://youtu.be/gUAQvlCFm-g?si=4UJpB9jABhOMLMAI

First of all, thank you so much!! I'm glad you enjoyed it 😁 and oh boy this one's got a kick... You shouldn't have brought up greek mythology AND buggy like I won't shut up ever after this.

I actually cried listening to the song while thinking about Buggy and Roger. It just fits too well. I want to point out a few lyrics that I thought fit like a glove:

"for twenty years, I never could outgrow you" I think its safe to say that Roger's death in Loguetown affected Buggy on a fundamental level. No one could handle watching their father's neck get sliced live. Something like that could never not change you. From the 20+ years that have passed since then, at least part of Buggy is still that 16 year old standing in that crowd, crying. He never fully outgrew Loguetown, and for the record I don't think Shanks did either (I couldn't not bring him up I'm sorry) The main difference is that they experienced very different Loguetowns... Buggy still had hope that Roger would somehow dodge death like he always had, because unlike Shanks he didn't understand why Roger would willingly go to his own death. However, as the one who left, Buggy suffered a lot less after their fight. That's not to say it wasn't hard to leave, or he wasn't sad about it (he cried a lot as he ran away from Shanks) But Shanks suffered a different way, from the whiplash he had from seeing Roger die AND losing his best friend on top of each other. He only expected one of those, and we know which one that was.

"i can't help but wonder (...) if I have your strength in me." Buggy has always been a character with deep self esteem issues. A part of that certainly comes from having Roger's legacy behind him. Roger was strong and smart beyond words, and Buggy definitely felt insufficient, like he couldn't reach that ideal. That's why there's a deep rooted jealousy in him towards Shanks, because he sees so much of Roger in him. This also mirrors Odysseus and Telemachus perfectly, because the son never reached his father's level of intelligence and strength by the end of the Odyssey. However, it is implied that he is on his way there, getting better and better as the story progressed. We see this with Buggy too, with his amazing talent of failing upwards. (I have to say, I don't think all of it can be accidental. Buggy is actually quite clever in his own way) Roger's soul must be watching with pride, but not surprise. I have no doubt in my mind that Roger truly believed Buggy would make it big one day. The kind of trust only a parent could have in their children.

"used to say I'd capture wind and sky for you" Not much to say here but Roger would definitely say something like this. There's not a single thing that man wouldn't have done for his boys. I'm so normal about them haha 😅 ...Also more on the Roger and Odysseus parallels, there's just something so beautiful about a man who chooses his family over and over again, no matter how many good options keep presenting themselves. Like, nothing in the world could get in the way of him and his child no matter what. The similarity just hurts. And even though Roger couldn't live to do that for Ace, at least he experienced fatherhood with Shanks and Buggy.

[thefirstknife]

wanted to share some post Lighfall thoughts in my head with you (im sure most if this has been said or i got key concepts wrong but still)

I personally believe the Witness either is the First Knife or somehow has tricked itself into believing it is. (if the later then that's then it already had the desire to end universe and is using this to justify as an allegory for fascism)

my thoughts are summed up as this:

The Winnower wants to finish this round of the garden game. and wants to keep playing it over and over and over. It didn't seem to care about the Gardener wanting another round until she put herself into the game

The Witness is the Knife or somehow has vague spiritual metaphysical memories of the Knife and took its purpose the the most logical extreme:

It grew sick of round after round of the Game.

It is the Knife it wants to cut and cull all

The Winnower wants to play the game eternally which means restarting the game

The Knife wants to do it purpose and end the Game.

Permanently

To do this it must also end the Players so it can never restart again.

The Witness wants so somehow end the Game, end the Gardener, end the Winnower.

So that

The First Knife

becomes

The Final Shape

That's a really good summary of some of my thoughts as well!!

Obviously, a lot of this is very abstract and we might be looking at the Unveiling too much for hints, but ALSO. I think this would be super cool and would definitely explain a lot of stuff. And I would absolutely adore to see the Unveiling stuff be directly relevant in this way, and not just a metaphorical retelling of how the universe began.

An interesting lore tab from the raid lore book, page 9, that was available to unlock this week (the remaining 2 pages are tied to the red border chest, crisis averted. The chest was just bugged last week. Final raid lore book page next week!). Page 9 was... very peculiar. I'll copy it fully:

No clue who is the author. The first paragraph usually hints at the author, but this time I can't tell. Mention of "dream" and later suffering might suggest Nezarec talking to the Witness... or to something else. Or something else talking about the philosophy in general. This lore tab has Unveiling vibes to me, tbh. Mostly, the part about this data fragment coming from something "warped, barely-real" gives me massive Winnower vibes. It's a metaphor, an allegory, like the Unveiling.

I love the metaphor for the Light and Darkness philosophies, here presented with the story of a man coming upon a crossroads. The man asks the sky where to go, and there's no answer because that is for the man to choose. The Light doesn't direct anyone to anything, it lets you make your own choices. That is the essential part of the philosophy; freedom to choose.

The whole next bit with a wanderer that shows up to tell the man which path to take and even suggests brandishing a knife to exert a threat and force the man to pick is essential to the Darkness philosophy. Darkness wants to funnel you into a specific path and it will do everything in its power to make you go down that road.

But the author also muses about the knife. Is threatening violence a better way to make people obedient or is that actually ceding power? Once you show the knife, you can never sheathe it or else the threat goes away and so does your power. And even if you never sheathe it, someone might still risk fleeing. If you force someone to follow you, you are never allowed to stop threatening them, but the more you threaten, the more chance there is that the person being threatened will take the risk to flee once they're fed up. Which is what happened with several Darkness-aligned characters, most notably Savathun. She was coerced and lied to and threatened, and the longer that went on, the more she contemplated taking the risk to leave. And she succeeded.

The final sentence is also super important because it really explains why a lot of characters fall to Darkness in the first place. Because it makes the choice for them, and many are afraid of the unknown. They are too afraid to take the risk and make a choice for themselves and find it easier and safer to follow what is being told to them. Ergo, Darkness being "salvation."

And if we're on the right track, in this analogy, the wanderer telling the man which road to pick would be the Winnower, the Darkness. And the knife it pulls to make the threat? The Witness. It doesn't need to use the knife, but maybe at some point it considered it and now it's doubting its efficacy. Wouldn't it be easier if the man just listened instead of introducing the knife which complicates the interaction and possible outcomes?

We're in hardcore speculative territory here but it's one of the mos interesting thing to me right now, especially with all the new stuff we learned from Lightfall and the raid.

[sunnydayroleplay]

How does jack react if his sunshine got murdered by an unknown killer?

Oh yes, angst hour. My favorite time of day where I have all the power in the world to end this story. And to make it worse, it's gonna be your birthday. I don't care if it is or not, it is now. You've picked the wrong headcannon. Suffer the consequences.

This fic includes: Murder, Weapons such as: Guns, Mentions of being tortured, Blood/Gore but it's not heavily described. Viewer/Reader: Desecration is advised, if you do not feel comfortable with any of these topics or as you read, please do not feel compelled to finish, and just click on another post :)

It was all over the news. Specifically in your area. Not that you would know, but what are you gonna do? You've been murdered. You went to work like any other day, Jack didn't go surprisingly but you thought he had something planned so you didn't argue against it. The sky was just brightly blue, the sun slowly crept to flaunt it's rays, the birds sang their song while you were in the one and the only Popov's Big Top Yogurtopiaaa! It was not as fun as you were paid to make it be. You sat around, just waiting for the time to go a little bit faster so you could clock out and head out. But, instead of walking to your car and happily reclining in the drivers seat, your mouth was covered, and you tried everything you could but you didn't make it. The details aren't exactly sunshine's and rainbows. To spare the gruesome aspect of it all, you were taken into a random strangers home, where you were beaten, tortured, grabbed on, cut, and your death sure as hell wasn't swift. You remember your final moments living, as the unknown person pulled your swinging head by your hair, With such precision, the unknown monster grabbed a revolver from their holster, and aimed it in between your seeping eyes. Despite all your screams and begs of mercy, the being cocked the gun, and shot you cold. Your blood and brain matter splattered all over the floor like a Picasso painting. Except there was no signature, and this wasn't a one of the kind artwork. Your lifeless body was dragged out of the chair it sat in, and shoved into a series of bags, soon into the back of a gray car. Your body rolled back and forth in the trunk through every stop, speed-bump until your own designated drop off was made. It wasn't long until your slowly decomposing body was found at the side of a high-way. Police cars swarmed your body, the lights flashing from miles away. A bag being brought out to put you in for further examination. All your family and loved ones were notified, and soon was Jack. Jack found out by turning the TV on accident while vacuuming the living room. He picked up the remote only to drop it again. The words coming out of it making him quake. "There has been a body spotted by a couple near South 123, the body is yet to be confirmed, but Police believe it's the body of [Age] year old [Gender}, [Your name]. More details are yet to be published."

"N-No...s-sunshine..This can't be real, it can't. NO! I WON'T BELIEVE IT!"

Jack was stunned. From what he planned, you were going to come home safely, with a nice birthday cake made just by him and a gift. Instead, your gift was your own demise. He was pissed. Angry. Who took his sunshine's light, and where were they now? Sure, you could just report him to the police, have him arrested, right? Hah! No. Jack wanted revenge. He needed it. The...monster that did this must go. They got to die. They have to suffer just like how they made you. There's no if's, and's about it. He won't rest until they were found. "You..I'm gonna get you..!! You're going to get it! I-I'l find you! You'll pay for what you've done!" At least you got what you wanted. For time to pass by faster. It's been years since your death. Your ghost hasn't yet developed enough to say hello to your beautiful love, Jack. But enough with that. Your beautiful love still didn't stop for nothing. The cunt who took your life was still there living theirs. And after all those years, he finally figured out who. He figured out who took the life of his darling, and he was more ecstatic than he was with you. Smiling innocently, he took a knife he kept with him ever since your death arose on the news. He kept an array of items from you or of yours ever since your death to have something to keep him going. The knife he bit it horizontally within his teeth, he went over to the nearest T.V, crawling from the outside and into it, walking around a mass explosion of darkness and entrances. Walking around the darkness he spotted your killer. His laugh was frivolous when he saw him. Without hesitation he made his way into his entrance and slowly but surely made his way out of the killers screen. The person backed away in a hurry, yet that's the only thing going to be hurried in this case. "So, we finally meet. Such a shame it'll be only time we will." "P-Please! I'm sorry, I-I didn't mea-" "You didn't mean too?! Hah! You're a funny guy, you didn't mean to brutally torture them, you didn't mean to shoot them, you didn't mean to dump their body! It was all an accident I'm sure!" "I..Wh-Wait! We can talk about this, ahah...!" "You've had enough time to talk." Jack had enough time waiting, he wanted to finish what he came for and that was it. No time for small talk that was going to be pointless in the end. He pulled them so close that he could just hear the blood pumping inside their body. As the blood gushed out the moment he jammed the knife into their body, he repeatedly stabbed them, he gouged their eyes out, he cut down their limbs one by one in front of a mirror so that that could see the body horror that was happening to them. And the best part? "Man found dead in his home. His own insides found hanging from wall to wall. Police have no leads."

[my-mt-heart]

hi, Mt. This might cause some negative energy and I'm sorry, but I hope its still okay to write this to you. If you can't post, that's okay too. As much as I love Caryl and Melissa, I think I have to walk away. Fandom has always been too intense for me, so I like to stay hidden, but I like reading all the articles and following along on filming. Everything about S1 was making me uncomfortable. Daryl was being weird a lot of times and the things the producers kept saying, I kept wanting to argue with. I thought now that S1 is over and Melissa is announced, things would be a lot better. I do like all the photos of Melissa and I liked the little trailer we got, but something about this show feels very wrong. You talked about a lot of the things I noticed on my own, the way it still feels like Daryl is the most important and Carol doesn't mean as much because she's not in the title. That's just an example. I hate that. And I hate that the producers are making that feeling worse every chance they get. Zabel, he just makes me mad because his way of explaining Daryl and now Carol sounds like he's just ranting and sometimes doesn't make any sense. I don't think Daryl can make deep relationships that quickly for example. But Norman and Greg Nicotero, what they say sounds worse to me. Some people aren't going to like me saying this and I don't mean to cause you any trouble since it's your tumblr. The way they insult Melissa sometimes and hurt the fans to make us seem unimportant or dumb, it makes me feel like I'm in another abusive relationship and that's what I need to get away from. I thought about just staying off the internet and watching the show, but their behavior makes me worry about the show too. I believe you about them refusing a new showrunner who's a woman and it's not just because you said it. It's because it fits with past things they've done. Norman admitted getting rid of Angela Kang and then they hired Zabel who is a white man just like them. I won't be able to take it if Caryl's relationship is ruined. I didn't have much when I was young, including love. I was trapped in the same cycle for a long time. Watching Caryl gave me a lot of hope because they were similar to me and I wanted them to be together to know some happiness is still possible even if life has been so hard. Maybe they will, but it's not worth all this suffering in the meantime. I don't think I'll find characters like them again, but I'll find something that makes me feel joy every day, not misery and anger. Thank you for listening and for making me feel not so alone for a while. Thank you to Melissa McBride for being so talented and lovely. I wanted to be able to thank Norman too. I'm just too hurt right now, but Daryl will still have a special place in my heart right beside Carol as it should be.

***I'm including a trigger warning here and kindly asking anyone who reads to please be respectful of this anon's experiences***

Anon, you don't have to apologize. It's always bothered me when we assign each other a "negative" or "positive" disposition when in reality it's perfectly human to form nuanced opinions. Last year wasn't kind to Caryl fans at all, so seeing Melissa filming again and seeing bts photos of Caryl again felt like the first warm day after a brutal winter (to quote my favorite podcast hosts 🤪❤️). I think every single one of us wants to hold onto that feeling. I'm happy for those who are succeeding. We deserve to finally look forward to the Daryl and Carol show we were promised.

That being said, I also empathize with those who are having a difficult time holding on. I am one of those people myself. One day it feels like we're getting something exciting, like the first Caryl photos let's say, and the next we're getting dumped on. Case in point, an actor who isn't even on the show taking the opportunity to call Caryl's/Carol's fans toxic and using Melissa's return to self-promote. Or how about another actor using sexist language to attack the same fans because he didn't like the criticism the show was getting. Or the showrunner teasing another ship with zero regard for a significant portion of his soon-to-be audience (Caryl fans). It’s all very discouraging, especially when the intervals in between the bad PR get shorter and shorter.

As for the male EPs’ off-putting behavior, you aren’t the first person to describe it to me the way you did, far from it, which is just to say you aren’t alone. Thank you for sharing a little bit about yourself even though it couldn’t have been easy. I’ll share that when I was growing up, the men in my life would often display an urgent need to be in control, to let everyone know they were the boss and what they said goes. Tracking this show has definitely brought up a lot of the anxiety I thought I’d dealt with already, that Daryl helped me deal with when I first started watching TWD, so I completely understand where you're coming from.

The show we were promised in 2020 was a Daryl and Carol show. Theoretically, now that Melissa is back, it should be a Daryl and Carol show again. That’s what Melissa signed on for and her EP title is supposed to be equal to Norman’s. But Norman, Nicotero, and AMC are not honoring that. You already mentioned the title, so I’ll use another example. Norman said S2 is Carol’s story before amending to Carol and Daryl stories paralleling each other. Either way, why is his character the only one on the clapperboard? Where’s Carol? In that tiny plane?

These may seem like non-issues on the surface, but as I've talked about before, people working on the show can use them as cues to establish a chain of command different from what's in contracts. The male EPs can use them to drown out Melissa's voice in instances of disagreement. The showrunner is a big one. How about directors? Are they all white men again? Who's deciding that? And how can that be the only perspective we're getting if S2 is centered around a heavily-nuanced female character, a mother, a survivor of domestic abuse, a frequent target of misogyny and ageism on SM ? Melissa's input is highly valuable. I'm in no way diminishing that or suggesting she's helpless, but she needs to be shown all the professional courtesy she deserves, as an equal. If fans are seeing evidence to the contrary, and we absolutely can see that, it undermines the narrative we've been invested in all this time: Carol beating the odds over and over again, proving her worth, and becoming a leader.

I'm really sorry that you're feeling mistreated by a show you used as a source of comfort. It's not how things are supposed to work. There should be no gaslighting, no sexist name-calling, no playing into your fears, no insulting your intelligence, no making you feel unheard. Explicit canon is something that needs to happen, but it won't take away the discomfort you're feeling unless we can get someone else in a position of power to push for Caryl, Carol, and the Daryl we know, with Melissa. That's honestly what I'm waiting to see at this point. AMC needs to make big changes. In the meantime, please take care of yourself, anon. Your wellbeing comes first.