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#sassy Pennywise

IT (2017) dir. Andy Muschietti

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Okay but like. Now that AO3 is up again.

Comment.

Please, seriously, comment. Aside from the amazing volunteers, it needs writers to function, and community, and speaking as a writer comments are keeping these fics alive.

Just a "I really enjoyed reading this!" will absolutely make an author's day.

I just got a "!!" every time I updated my multichapter fic and I knew this person was still reading, was keeping up, enjoyed it! It's literally just two exclamation marks but they mean the world to me!

You don't have to be long or elaborate or even comprehensible. Just, show your authors that you appreciate them. Keep the community alive. Keep fandom alive.

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This is exactly what I was picturing I LOVE THIS. We need it to be canon.

Don’t you just hate it when the silly egg altar ego you made to cope with the loss of your daughter starts taking over to the point you aren’t in control of yourself anymore, all because you decided it should run for president?

Inspired by a post by @clynicallysadisticcrow that got me thinking about Gegg taking over Charlie. Honestly really happy with how it turned out!

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SPOILERS FOR QSMP DEBATE #2:

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Imagine Villain!Gegg

Q!Slimecicle is completely losing control over Gegg, evident by how he can't remember anything as Gegg and how surprised he was when Gegg multiplied. I think the running theory is that Charlie is losing himself because he's so far deep into Gegg's character, but what if it's darker than that?

What if Q!Slimecicle is losing himself because Gegg as an entity is taking over against Slime's will?

What if all this "we are gegg" stuff ISN'T a metaphor, and it truly is the admittance that Gegg himself is a parasite and wants to spread? I know that Slime explained yesterday to BBH after the debate that Gegg uses the "We are gegg" thing to say that they are all equal, but does Q!Slime really know Gegg's goals or motivations?

What if his "burn the world" ideology isn't a metaphor for overthrowing the system, what if he actually wants to see the QSMP destroyed and filled with copies of himself?

If any of this is true, I can see Charlie start to fear Gegg, fear his ideologies and what might happen if he wins the election. I can see Charlie start to work against Gegg, start to fight back, but ultimately become a vessel for Gegg to puppeteer on his way to ultimate anarchy.

And if Charlie tried to tell the other members of the server that he was Gegg, or even go to the members that already knew his secret, would they still believe him? Gegg has grown so popular after the two debates. After seeing Gegg create copies of himself, would they think Slime has been lying this entire time for attention? And maybe Slime would try to prove it, but realize very quickly that Gegg has taken so much control over him that he no longer has the ability to initiate transformation.

Charlie would have no allies, no control, and no hope of fighting back against Gegg. Wether Gegg wins or loses his election, a rebellion is coming.

And Charlie will be the unwilling leader of Gegg's army against the server.

This is absolutely just a theory. I can see Charlie continue his anarchist-socialist path with Gegg, and keep Q!Slimecicle as a continuous supporter of his candidate.

BUT just how cool would a villain monologue be from Gegg. And imagine the angst for Q!Slime.

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everybody likes you everybody likes you

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Haven't seen the stream or know wtf is going on but he is my blorbo

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TW: BLOOD and GORE

Ten of Swords: “The Ten of Swords marks a painful yet inevitable ending. You no longer resist change but allow it to happen… no more pain will come to you from that source.” (https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/minor-arcana/suit-of-swords/ten-of-swords/)

Enjoy this heartbreaking drawing of gl!Charlie, and the ending that could never have been avoided.

I definitely have to draw tarot cards for Patient!Charlie and the Spirit of The Cabin next. Let me know what cards you think would fit them!

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SPOILERS FOR RAVENING WAR EP. 3!!! (TW: GORE)

"Butcher them,"

Raphaniel Charlock calls out to the dark void that swirls restlessly in his chest like a growing tempest, his grip tightening around the Bulbian Relic in his right hand instinctively as he feels arcane power swell in his chest.

He had heard the commotion from the wagon- the wagon containing the figure that the FDA wanted assassinated along the Glucian Road.

He hadn't asked who the target was, nor did he care to know. Whomever these Architects were, they were powerful enough to know what he had done and to puppeteer him to their greatest whim.

All Raphaniel knew was that failing his mission was not an option, not when he had bided his time for this long, not when power was just within reach.

Whoever was within that carriage, whoever was about to withstand the force of his horrific magic was merely collateral damage.

"Do what you will," He says in his mind, squeezing his eyes shut and going to that abyss within himself. He stares out and the ending of all stories stares back at him, its inky darkness swirling and swimming before him with sick amusement.

He can feel the sadistic hum of arcane power thrumming against his chest, urging him to let it take control, let it interfere.

"Come to my aid again!"

And as the command comes from him telepathically, he hears them.

The blades.

The whirring sound of blades itch behind his mind, the screech of alien metal almost sounding like laughter. Amused, pleased laughter as it spurs and dances within him.

He had never asked its name, never asked what it wanted. Perhaps because he couldn't take what the answer might be.

And just as he had done every time this power came from him, Raphaniel shrinks into his elder, fragile form, and exhales sharply as if trying to clear smoke from his lungs.

And as the breath escapes between his lips, the force of this nameless evil escapes with it. With his innate telepathy, Raphaniel reaches out and sees beyond the walls of the watermelon carriage, feeling the life in this place before his spell goes off.

He feels a Candian knight to his right completely collapse within himself, his frosty, coned head erupting and scattering bits of cream all over the carriage. The flicker of life within this young soldier is extinguished before his final breath even leaves him.

'Candians..? They weren't supposed to be--'

Another knight, a butterscotch woman, is hit with his spell, and feels the crackle of the void itself rip into her side, splitting into her chewy body. She lets out a horrified, shocked scream at the sudden pain, shrinking away from an assailant that she cannot see.

And one last faint pulse of life at the back corner of the carriage greets him. Raphaniel gazes telepathically at the final figure, who is hunched over with both arms wrapped around their torso as dark juice seeps into their blue and purple robes.

He reaches out,

and a blackberry looks up so that he might see her face.

And Raphaniel stares into the same eyes that he gazed into indifferently at the Pyramid of Food. She stares back, pupils wide with pain and betrayal.

He looks at the face of the woman who mocked him, the church, and the sects of the Bulbian faith.

And the name flashes into his mind before he can even think of repressing it:

Queen Pamela Rocks,

the sole monarch of Candia.

And in his own mind, Raphaniel screams,

"NO-!"

as the spell pierces the Queen, coursing through her with the speed of needles of lightning. And Raphaniel is forced to watch helplessly as she splits apart and bursts, scattering her blackberry-innards onto the walls of the watermelon wagon. Deep purple drips from the ceiling in chunks, landing on the shoulders of the knights that remain at her side.

And he wants it to end- he begs to sever the connection, to stop the vision,

but the blades refuse.

That power within him that has festered for so long keeps him pinned to the spot, forced to watch on as the Candian knights look down at themselves and see that they are covered in the insides of their Queen.

And he doesn't even have enough control to block out the screams as these knights are overwhelmed with profound loss. Their voices crack as they cry out louder than their candy vocal cords would allow them to, met with the unfortunate fact that they outlived the one person they were sworn to protect with their lives.

He pulls away from his telepathic connection with the desperation of a wounded animal, forcing himself to focus on any other noise than the heart-wrenching cries of the Candians left in the fallout of his failure.

And the only noise that he can manage to hear beneath the screaming is the sound of metal.

Mechanical whirring grows louder and louder, making Raphaniel instantly regret his request.

And he tries to focus back on the screams, tries to listen to the shrieks he has caused,

but the sound of the blades takes over again.

He hears the guttural sound of flesh meeting steel, the ripping of sinew and tendons, the crunch of bone breaking against metal teeth, the gurgled groan of a saw slicing into a throat, the horrendous song of machinery chewing through muscle with a sickening amount of ease-

And his stomach drops as he feels the vision coming, feels his state of being slipping away.

And suddenly, he no longer stares at the massacre he has caused, but stares into the whirring maw of death itself.

He watches the blades spin faster and faster as he edges closer to his end. He feels the rush of wind against his face, tinged with the smell of rotting remnants of fruit and vegetables that stain the blades.

Blood splatters against the silver, covering it in a thick slime.

Viscera scatters, guts and limbs thrown around him with wet thuds.

The void beckons as the vision gets darker and colder, consuming him with an embrace that he would do anything to get away from.

But even though he can no longer see the blades, he can still hear them. He can feel them getting closer, itching to shred into his face like it has done millions of times before.

He feels the whip of wind against his wrinkled face as the metal whirls round and round, inches from his visage.

The high pitched shriek of metal scratching against metal gets louder and louder until its all he can hear.

The breath of decay assaults his senses, streaming down his nostrils and throat.

And he waits.

Waits for the blades to bite into his maroon skin.

Waits for the cost pf his hubris to finally come.

Waits for this power to consume him after years of abusing it without thought.

He opens his eyes and sees the metal smile of bloodshed.

He inhales a breath, his last breath,

and--

Raphaniel's eyes snap open as a haunted gasp comes from him, pushing life back into his quivering form. His spindly fingers dig into the strawberry grass beneath him as he heaves in sweet-tasting air, feeling the blades of grass and dirt collect between his digits. His vision pulses as he stares down at the pink grass beneath him, feeling the sting of tears drying against his face as a gust of night air brushes against him.

His breaths no longer sound like breathing, dissolving into half-sobs as he stares down at his hands- hands that should be slick with the black blood of Queen Pamela Rocks, but remain mockingly clean.

'No- no, no-' He thinks to himself, his usually-smiling mouth pulling back into a devastated grimace. The grass slipping between his fingers suddenly feels like the slimy intestines of the soldiers who will die in the battles to come-- battles that he has caused.

He holds in a breath as if it will stop the calamity from coming, watching dark splotches appear in the dirt beneath him as tears drip from his face.

"-Your Eminence!!" A voice shrieks from above him as hands come down onto his quaking shoulders.

Raphaniel looks up, his distant gaze locking with that of Queen Amangeaux's.

"Not like this-" The words stumble from his mouth, completely bypassing the careful filter he usually engages, "Not like this!"

Queen Amangeaux says something, but Raphaniel can no longer hear her.

All he hears is the quiet screams of deaths that have yet to happen.

He thought that the FDA was after power, or status, or wealth.

But he was wrong.

They wanted bloodshed. They wanted loss.

They sent him here knowing the sole monarch of the only continent not engaged in all-out war would be in that carriage.

They set him up to fail.

He will have to answer for every drop of blood that hits the fields of Calorum, every last desperate plea spoken, every prayer issued to the Bulb that was never heard, every name stricken from the face of his world.

And his despair only makes the blades that whirr behind his eyes laugh harder.

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Not Like This! 🥬

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bishop takes queen

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“I thought I could do it. I thought I could do it…

And the world will remember me as its greatest villain.”

—

Remember when Brennan Lee Mulligan took one of CR’s most notable villains in Exandria’s history, Vespin Chloras, and made us feel bad for him in EXU: Calamity?

Yeah, me too.

Posted this a while ago on twitter but I thought it belonged here instead :)

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when your paladin gets his face ripped off by the lord of hells

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WRITING ADVICE!!!

"Pain is Plain."

Let's face it; saying " it was very painful," falls just a little flat. You want something that will empower your writing, enrichen it. Using words that vividly describe a situation or feeling will help your readers "visualize" the scene. It will make them wonder " How is the main character going to survive this?" Or, if the hero is inflicting rightful pain on the antagonist, it will cause them to cheer and anticipate what their favorite character will do next. But none of this will work if you describe a deadly wound as "It really hurt." Here are some alternate words for "painful."

 

Excruciating

Seering

Stabbing

Ripping

Blood-curling

Paralyzing

Unimaginable

Writhing

Twisting

Shot

Shredding

Tearing

Agonizing

Indescribable

Intolerable

Harrowing

Torturing

Torturous

Aching

Cramping

Dull aching

Burning

Cold sensation

Electric shock

Nagging

Intense

Pins and needles

Sharp

Spasms

Splitting

Tender

Throbbing

Tingling

Tiring

Exhausting

Acute

Burning

Chapped

Nauseating

MILD PAIN: PAIN YOUR CHARACTER NOTICES BUT IT DOESN'T DISTRACT THEM.

Pinch

Sting

Smart

Stiffness

MODERATE PAIN: PAIN THAT DISTRACTS BUT DOESN'T TRULY STOP YOUR CHARACTER.

Ache

Throb

Distress

Flare

SEVERE PAIN: PAIN YOUR CHARACTER CAN'T IGNORE.

Agony

Anguish

Suffering

Thoes

Torment

Stabbing

OBLITERATING: KIND OF PAIN THAT PROHIBITS ANYTHING BUT BEING IN PAIN. (AND DOING ANYTHING TO ALLEVIATE IT.)

Ripping

Tearing

Writhing

Got other ideas or something you'd like to ask me? Go right ahead! I'd Love to hear from you!

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Sebastian x Ominis hurt/comfort fic

Here's an excerpt of a chapter from a fic I'm working on A03 (user: clinically_sadistic_crow), called "Do Not Resuscitate" (click link to read, 2 chapters up so far!)

Short bio: Ominis was cursed instead of Anne, and Sebastian puts himself through hell to retrieve a cure.

CW for depictions of pain, past torture/abuse

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".. There's a door at the end of the room. The word 'Crucio' is written on the floor," Sebastian describes for him, "To get through the door, she had to cast the Cructiatus curse on someone. But she had no one to cast it on.. and she was locked inside."

Ominis exhales through his nose and squeezes his eyes shut, making the sour, screwed-up face of someone trying to swallow a difficult emotion. He folds her note and places it in the pocket of his robe.

"So, this is where she died," Ominis says, eyes snapping open to fix on Sebastian, "This is where we'll die. I should have never listened to you."

"I'm.. I'm sorry," Sebastian says softly, voice strained with guilt, "I truly am sorry about your Aunt. But.. we won't die here. There's two of us."

Ominis stiffens and steps back from Sebastian, milky eyes narrowing. 

".. Ominis, I know this is the last thing you want to do--"

"Yes! It is!" Ominis abruptly shouts with frantic rage ringing in his voice, "I thought you knew me better!"

"- But it's different this time!" Sebastian quickly defends, reaching a hand for Ominis' shoulder but stopping when Ominis immediately jerks away, "I am consenting to have the curse used on me, alright? It's not an innocent victim this time, it's not the same."

"The spell won't work unless you mean it, Sebastian!" Ominis rages as he whirls around and paces in the other direction, "That is true of all Unforgivables!"

"Well, try to mean it! I mean, there has to be some part of you that wants to hurt me--" He tries to joke, an attempt to lighten the dreary mood.

"Not like that," Ominis insists coldly, a shudder running through him as he stops pacing to stare dejectedly at the floor, "No one deserves that."

"We don't have another choice," Sebastian says, "I don't know about you, but I'm not too intent on dying down here."

"We do have another choice," Ominis lets out a shaking breath and turns to face Sebastian again, "You have to cast it on me."

"But I don't know how," Sebastian lies without pause or regret, willing to say anything to get Ominis to just cast it on him.

"I'll teach it to you."

And Sebastian simply doesn't have the heart to tell Ominis that he already knew all 3 Unforgivable Curses.

"Have you lost your mind?" Sebastian hisses, stepping into Ominis' space. It takes Ominis far longer than it should to react, giving a delayed eyebrow raise as he feels Sebastian move closer, "For Merlin's sake, you are sick. What if it bloody kills you?"

"I can take it, I have before." He says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. 

"When you were healthy. And why would I make you relive that trauma for a mistake that I made?" Sebastian's voice raises, his usual tone of confidence and cool arrogance slipping away, "It's my fault that we are stuck down here, so let me take the fall for it!" 

"How do you expect me to cast that cursed spell on someone I care so much about?" Ominis demands, running his thin fingers through his blonde hair, "How can you even ask that of me?"

"How can you ask me to cast it on you?!" Sebastian retorts, gesturing widely with both arms to the boy across from him, "It will kill you--"

"I can't cast the spell, alright?" Ominis' voice raises, enough authority ringing in his tone to make Sebastian go dead silent, "I physically can't cast the spell."

"... What do you mean?"

".. I've only been able to cast it once, only on the.. the muggle," Ominis admits, arms moving to wrap around himself, "My family tried to get me to cast it again or cast the other Unforgivable Curses.. but no matter what they threatened me with.. no matter how much I wanted to just to make them stop, I couldn't cast the spell again."

Sebastian clenches his teeth so tightly that it begins to hurt, his eyes averted to the ground as he comes to realize that he was going to have to cast it on Ominis.

"This is our only option," Ominis repeats, stepping forward and drawing his wand, "So, just.. just let me teach you the spell and--"

"I already know it." Sebastian interrupts grimly, drawing his own wand as well. He sees Ominis visibly stiffen at his words, hazy eyes widening to take up most of his face.

"You what?"

"I already know all of the Unforgivable Curses," He repeats with a sharp exhale, finally making eye contact with the other boy, "I taught them all to myself last year. Found some book in the Restricted Section that certainly shouldn't have been there."

"Why-? Why.. why on earth would you..?" Ominis stammers, so angry that he can't remain calm enough to form full sentences, "Have you ever used--"

"Merlin, of course not!" Sebastian hisses defensively, offended by the implication, "Who the hell do you think I am?"

"I don't know anymore!" Ominis shouts, jabbing a finger into his chest, "First, you want to come down to this-- this hellhole! And now you're telling me that you've already engaged in The Dark Arts even after I told you about what happened to me?"

"I learned them to protect you!" Sebastian says before he can think to stop himself, watching Ominis' expression of rage twitch into one of confusion, "I wanted to be able to fight fire with fire if one of Ranrok's loyalists came to finish what they started, alright?"

Ominis falls silent, his eyes flicking to the floor. Sebastian watches his paled face flutter as his shoulders lower and sag.

"Merlin, Sebastian," Ominis says lowly, shaking his head as his eyebrows furrow, "You're going to turn into the very thing you hate if you keep trying to save me."

'You are worth the risk.' Sebastian responds in his own mind, gazing at his best friend in chosen silence.

Ominis exhales slowly out of his nose and takes a few paces away from Sebastian to give him space for the spell, "Well, whenever you're ready."

"Ominis, I-"

"It's not your fault, okay?" Ominis responds before the apology even leaves his lips, "I agreed to come down here, I wanted to know what happened to my Aunt and.. well this is the price for knowledge, I guess."

Sebastian shifts his weight, his heart sinking in his chest as he has to accept that he was going to hurt Ominis-- the one person he's been trying to protect.

"And, hey, if this finally teaches you a lesson about The Dark Arts, the pain is well worth it." Ominis jests with a sly grin, pulling a scoff from Sebastian.

"I make no promises, Gaunt." Sebastian teases in response, his smile dying as soon as it reaches his lips as the weight of his wand sitting in his hand reminds him of what he has to do, ".. Are you ready?"

".. As I'll ever be." Ominis replies, his voice forced to remain still, but Sebastian can see his fear in the way his shoulders raise and his arms lock at his sides.

Sebastian inhales shakily and squares his posture, raising his wand to point it at Ominis. He squeezes his eyes shut, shutting them so tightly that colours pop against the back of his eyelids.

'Think of someone else.' He thinks to himself, immediately going to the person that comes into his mind first.

His Uncle Solomon. Sebastian hated him, something that Anne and him seem to bicker about constantly. His uncle had never liked him, always saying that he was "too much like his father"-- as if that were an insult. He was a cruel, bitter ex-auror who could no longer fight Dark Wizards, so he turned his anger to the nearest enemy: his nephew. They disagreed on many topics, nearly every conversation somehow melding into an argument. And Sebastian was never one to back down from a fight.

But he doesn't hate his Uncle enough to cast the Cruciatus Curse on him.

'Come on, there has to be someone.' He thinks to himself, eyebrows narrowing as he burrows deeper into his own mind, 'I don't know if there's anyone that deserves-'

Completely unbidden, the image of Ranrok appears in his mind's eye. The goblin stares at him, crimson eyes twinkling with amusement. A sharp-toothed grin pulls onto his face.

His breathing immediately grows heavier, grip instinctively tightening around the ebony wood of his wand.

'You. You're the reason I'm losing my best friend.' He hisses to the figure in his mind, his lips pulling back against his teeth, 'You and your damned goblin loyalists did this to him.'

'And what exactly are you going to do about it, boy?' He imagines the goblin responds, smiling at the pain he's caused them.

His heart hammers against his ribcage, nails nipping into his palm hungrily as his fist clenches at his side, 'I'll make you pay.'

'You don't have what it--'

"Crucio!" The incantation spits from his mouth without thought as he whips his wand forward. Red bolts of lightning erupt from the tip of his wand, the way it crackles almost sounding like maniacal laughter.

 And for a moment, Sebastian is watching Ranrok spasm in agony, the pride wiped from his face. For a moment, he's happy that the spell worked, happy at the torture he inflicts.

The moment ends as a shriek of torment comes from Ominis, causing Sebastian's eyes to snap open. His heart drops as he sees Ominis double over, arms wrapped around himself as the scream of a being in total agony rends through his throat. Crimson electricity crawls across his entire body, whispering a promise of pain as it courses through the young boy's body. Behind Sebastian, the ebony door crackles with the same red light. A satisfying hiss comes from behind the door and it slowly pushes open. He turns back to Ominis and sees his knees instantly buckle, allowing gravity to take over. 

Sebastian's breath catches in his throat as he lunges for Ominis, catching him by the sides of his arms before he collapses. He can feel the other boy spasming in his arms, causing his throat to tighten with guilt, "It's okay-- it's okay, I'm here-" He whispers to Ominis despite the knowledge that the boy can't hear him over his own cries. Sebastian feels Ominis' legs completely give out, his full weight falling into him. Sebastian pulls Ominis to his chest and slowly lowers them both onto the ground, positioning himself so that Ominis' twitching body lays between his legs, his head propped against Sebastian's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-!" Ominis cries desperately into Sebastian, shoving his face into the crook of his best friend's neck, "Father- please-!"

And Sebastian's heart shatters at his words, realizing very quickly that Ominis is no longer in the room with him, but stuck in a memory. He feels the burn of approaching tears and pulls Ominis close, biting back the urge to cry, "You're safe, Ominis. You're safe, he's not here."

Ominis continues to stammer incomprehensively between sharp cries of torment, and all Sebastian can do is repeat "You're safe" over and over again. His screams finally start to melt into groans of pain, his fingers clawing helplessly at the front of Sebastian's Slytherin cloak. Tears run down his face, giving Sebastian a chilling understanding of how painful the curse must be. Sebastian holds him close to his chest and leans his head against the other boy's, feeling his bottom lip quiver like a leaf clinging to its branch as winter approaches.

"I'm here, I'm here, Ominis," Sebastian whispers, guilt ravaging him like a starved animal. Ominis' spasms lessen into shivering as if he had been kept out all night. He slowly stops making noises, save for shaking breaths and quiet whines. And Sebastian doesn't move to release him or soften his grip around him.

He won't let go as long as Ominis needs him.

Minutes go by. Ominis keeps his face buried in his best friend. He breathes hotly against the skin on his neck, taking ragged gulps of air in and out as he slowly stops shaking. Ominis gently lifts his head, watery eyes blinking open to gaze at Sebastian's freckled face that is inches from his own.

".. Sebastian..?" He asks hoarsely, reaching up hesitantly to place a cold hand against Sebastian's face.

"Yes- yes I'm here. It's just us," Sebastian assures him, feeling Ominis' fingers trace his freckled features softly as if trying to identify him, "You're safe." Sebastian stares down at him, studying his hollow features for any indication of pain.

He can feel Ominis' breath dancing across his face, shallow and hindered. His pupils, hidden by a sheet of fog as thick as London's, are trained on Sebastian. A winter-rose pink sweeps across his pale visage, kissing life and emotion onto his stilled face. Sebastian can only think to attribute the blush to the exertion of the pain he went through. Ominis' fingers, still clutching his robe, readjust their grip around the fabric to hold onto him tighter. 

"Are you okay?" Sebastian asks gently, watching Ominis' fair eyebrows raise as if being pulled from a trance. His hands drop from Sebastian's clothing and face, and sits up so that he no longer leans against him.

".. Yes I'm-" Ominis clears his throat, finding his voice strained from how much he had been screaming, "Yes, I feel fine. I'm okay."