#arcadeian.

[topshelfperverts]

📝 don't mind me, asking everyone, but. kill bill and silent hill

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 📝 + 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌

i'm honestly embarassed to say that my experience with both fandoms is extremely limited (although silent hill f intrigues me....) so I don't really have much to say on either one HOWEVER. what little I know about kill bill makes me inclined to say that gogo yubara and elle driver would be the standout characters I'd be interested in.

[nitradiate]

𝐈𝐍𝐓.  𝐀𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃  𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑  —  𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. #⁎ SC.⁰¹◞   ACTION!  ˊˎ-     :     𝙸  𝙳𝙾𝙽'𝚃  𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚆  𝙸𝙵  𝚈𝙾𝚄  𝙲𝙰𝚁𝙴  𝙰𝚃  𝙰𝙻𝙻.     [⭑]     @arcadeian  as  LUCY  MACLEAN  &.  @nitradiate  as  THE GHOUL.

DISSOLVE TO: IT HAS BEEN ANOTHER LONG DAY ON THE ROAD TO NEW VEGAS. LUCY AND THE GHOUL FOUND SHELTER FOR THE NIGHT IN AN OLD, ABANDONED DINER. THE WALLS ARE CRACKED AND LITTERED WITH BULLET HOLES, LIKE EVERYWHERE ELSE. LUCY SHOULD BE ASLEEP; INSTEAD, SHE IS SAT UPRIGHT AND THINKING ALL OF HER THOUGHTS ALOUD TO A CAPTIVE AUDIENCE. SUNKEN, IMPASSIVE EYES STARE AT HER FROM UNDER THE BRIM OF A DIRTY COWBOY HAT.

𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆.    the clock still ticks and the bells will toll.    midnight on doomsday was merely the beginning of the end.    OCTOBER 23RD, 2077 FELLED A SINGLE DOMINO IN A LONG CON,   and he’s waiting for the last tile to drop.     a tile,  a shoe,  a rug pulled out from underneath.    lay waste to idioms,  the ghoul bides because waiting is what’s easy.    the difference between one year and two hundred is up to the rest of the world to decide.    for a man once named COOPER HOWARD,  it all started to look the same after a while.

“  well,  sounds t’me like you was all havin’ a grand ol’ time.  ”    he leans back,  stretching his legs flat on the faded,  checkerboard linoleum and crossing them at the ankle.    reminiscence is a temptation,  human as any.    lucy can hardly be blamed,    “  i bet your daddy slept real good at night  ”,    but it spreads a slow rot.    hank maclean is old - world think gone sour.    a bygone worse than himself.

digging up the past exhumes a great many things.    most are better left dead,  but he’s taken a shovel to that hour - glass sand more than anyone.    looking at lucy maclean,  he can almost see the bottom.    the ghoul’s drawl pulls thin in a long exhale,    “  not too late to turn back  …  said you’ve got a brother?  ”

[dantorrance]

drop this sunflower🌻 into the inboxes of the blogs that make you happy! let's spread a little sunshine☀️

slapping down my uno reverse card, because you and your blogs on the dash never fail to make my day. i hope you know that you are one of my favorite human beings on the planet.

[unlament]

| | @arcadeian. ⊱ a few more steps. we're nearly there. i've got you.

𝓱𝓾𝓮𝓼 𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓼; dewdrops collecting 'pon dark lashes. vision blurs, colors fading in & out. something lingers . . . pain, perhaps. scalp sticky & matted, scarlet flooding through strands. palms shake & tremble, ever—cautious to allow other so close; body remaining within flight—or—fight mode. safety, belief forces itself into formation, for what else can one in such terror believe? he is safety. he is safe. body but a wounded animal, steps shaky as newborn lamb. ❝ nearly there, ❞ comes softened (𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹, 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃) repetition. then: gaze finally meets his, hands gentle yet desperate as suit's sleeve is held. ❝ my — my brother? where is my brother? was he found too? ❞