#//just character in white having shadow powers makes me go feral

[emmetrain]

I saw the superpowers talk on the dash and wanted to talk about all the minor abilities Emmet has but a) is not aware so cannot use, b) his human mind would not allow him to use, c) so minor that he would not be able to do anything substantial. Some of these snuck into threads before like artistic descriptions that are actually tied to his powers:

Photographic Memory: Mainly thanks to intense training and devotion, and tying to his relation to time/ time manipultion itself. "Photographic Memory, technically called eidetic memory, is the ability to recall images, sounds or objects in memory with near perfect accuracy and in abundant volume. The ability to "capture" an image after a short exposure, such that the eideticer has the subjective experience of actually still seeing it even after it has been removed. Someone with an eidetic memory can look at something, remember it later, and, when remembering it, notice details they completely missed the first time." Emmet's use of this ability is like buying many books but never reading them, or memorizing without understanding the substance. It works mostly against him since he counts on "remembering"...

Glowing Eyes/Night Vision: Thanks to PLA and Warden Ingo jumpscares, I am going to assume Emmet has the same silver glowing eyes, and a slight night vision that does not necessarily throws off the others, but aids him in his work as a Subway Boss who braves the tunnels.

Electricity Absorption: With no electrical scarring or side-effects of getting zapped by his beloved Electric type, Emmet is bound to notice he has the power to absorb electricity and utilize it in some way, right? Ha ha. No. He might be using Eelektross as personal battery when he is low on energy, but he will never assume he is invincible. A power that is used only passively by Emmet, or just for the mundane things like using electric attacks on himself to finish the paperwork he dreads. He can still get hurt, as he has no idea how to utilize this power, but more often than not, as long he pays no mind, electricity will just be absorbed safely. He is a conductor after all /shot. (Also, the electrostatic charge means people around him are more prone to get shocked when they touch him. RIP.)

Time Manipulation: Again, a power his mind will never fathom, and only used it the most mundane way possible. Emmet is able to alter time perception for himself passively, allowing him to have better concentration on tasks as time flows verrrry slowly, or when he panics, everything going too fast including his own time perception, making him unable to react meaningfully. The ways he can have inner monologues on and on while only a few seconds passes in real-life? Yup. He can stop/slow down time. Will he ever realize or utilize? Nope. His human mind would never truly comprehend this ability.

Darkness/Shadow Manipulation: "Users can create, shape and manipulate darkness and shadows. Darkness is mostly used to cloud everything into total darkness, but can also be channeled to a variety of effects, as an absence of light(...)". The line often used to describe Em's emotional state, "a shadow fell over his face"? Literal. Emmet can passively dim the room of its light, or cast shadow around himself when he is sneaking around. He is not aware of this, and would never notice or utilize this ability actively. But it is a part of how he did not get killed when he broke into places he shouldn't be able to, or how he truly blends in with the crowd despite wearing full-white clothing.

I love giving powers that goes over the head of the characters. Em is no exception. Characters more powerful and observant than Emmet might be able to tell:

that shadow should not fall like that,

how the light is kind of wacky with Emmet around,

how that Joltik's attack should have affected Emmet,

how normal people do not charge themselves with electricity instead of coffee, that caffeine and electricity are not interchangeable despite Emmet's claims.

when did he even had time to come up with that overly convoluted plan for a prank, or had like three crisis in span of few seconds.

[whumpitisthen]

hello i am here to ask about your oc grim. i am not zi

Hello not zi i am so excited to introduce you to my rat bastard!

Grim is literally the Grim Reaper. Like actually. He is also a vampire! A very dramatic, thespian, sadistic, scary individual. He likes going on murder sprees. He likes causing problems on purpose and annoying people, as he finds joy in being virtually untouchable by most others on the account of being a deity. He especially likes bothering people who are also powerful and like bullying the weak, but who are not quite powerful enough to talk back and banter with someone who can kill them in a second with the single touch of a finger. Oh yeah, he can kill by merely touching someone, he just enjoys carnage a lot more! It's more challenging and fun to go up one against a thousand, and way more traumatising for those who witness his slaughter in person (Auden. Auden is forever scarred). He does occasionally perform the Kiss of Death i guess, as he is a romantic and simply can't help being slimy and gross about it. A gentle death, all things considered, to die from a kiss

As for appearance, i have been working on a drawing of him, but the issue is that ive worked on it for so long that every time i look at it i hate it more, so its just in perpetual limbo forever. BUT, until i finally post it, i can just describe him!

He has very long silver, near white hair he keeps in a messy ponytail that starts off decent, but gets worse as the day goes on bc hes feral and rabid. He is in all long, flowy black clothing, as he has to stay on theme. Usually a long coat and tall boots, as that is his 'work' outfit (i.e. the stuff he wears to do war and murder and death and crimes) as well as a mask resembling some kind of an Animal's skull. I haven't actually chosen what kind of animal (or maybe i have? I think i landed on a canine skull) but i do actually have some sketches of actual animal skulls i made for ideas that i can show :3

I also thought about having it be like a plague doctor type deal with a bird skull instead but i already have The Doctor (another bastard character of mine), and if anyone, they should have the honor of wearing a mask like that

He also of course has a big heavy scythe, and black tendrils of smoky magic surrounding him when hes extra rabid, which cloaks him and makes him look like the cursed shadow of a dead animal, possibly a hyena if you take into account his unhinged cackling. Only when hes in the mood for killing murder and homicide, otherwise hes mostly shadow magic free

He wears a lot of silver jewellery, which does in fact burn him as he is quite the unholy creature of night; he just doesn't care. If asked about it, hell say its cause he likes how silver looks. (spoiler: the real reason is that he is Absolutely a masochist but you didn't hear that from me, that chapter is still in the works o_o) He has one hand thats just completely charcoal black, and he has black markings running across the skin of his entire body up to his chin, and there are two reasons for that:

When he became the embodiment of death the black magic possessing him cursed/burned him and now he just Looks Like That

I find tattoos incredibly hot, especially covering the neck. Very attractive

Hes also like. A tall guy. For a human hes big lanky tall, like 2 metres (thats around 6'6 apparently) however hes also usually in Hell, and demons can grow to all kinds of insane heights, be it rly tiny or hugely massive. Despite that, even demons triple his height built like a tank and weighing about as much find him to be incredibly unnerving, and instinctually become wary and careful around him. He has that effect on people he's in one room with; some kind of magical aura that causes even the wildest forest around him to become deathly silent upon his arrival. but he's also just kinda. Infamous. Like its hard to find someone who doesn't know who he is, its like trying to find someone in europe or the us whos never heard of jesus or god before. You could maybe find a few people like that, but its very unlikely. So not many walk up to him ready to obliterate him, however much they may want to. He likes looking down on people as much as he likes looking up at massive shit brick houses trying their damnedest to stare him down and assert dominance, not really succeeding. He prides himself on being the most menacing thing around, and not only regarded with fear by the weakest, but also awakening rare terror inside the hearts of the strongest, who aren't used to being on the recieving end of Anything bad. He almost finds it more fun than dunking on those that are already at the bottom of the food chain.

Hes also just a silly goofy guy :) just a silly smiley guy :) its probably why so many interpretations of the grim reaper have a human skull for a head :) its cause hes so silly and so smiley :)

Not Even God Will Be Able To Save You If You Manage To Truly Ruin His Mood :)

And as a last little fun fact, he has a tendency to just. Show Up. Just spawn next to you. Behind you. You could blink and congratulations, suddenly hes in your face and youve died from a heart attack. He just kinda appears, and then hes there. Like imagine youre a big scary demon lord, in a massive mansion, locked behind many walls and doors, guards patrolling every corner, feared by many. you walk into your very safe bedroom, ready to relax. And hes just. there. No one saw him enter. No one will notice when he leaves. Hes just laying on your couch like an asshole, reading your diary. What do you even do about this

You can read about him in Auden's story! He is one of Auden's whumpers! He's gonna be in the forefront in the newest chapter im writing (as well as another surprise mystery guest that will finally be introduced 👀) so be ready for that releasing any time between tomorrow and two weeks from now :-)

[teecupangel]

idk but omg ive been brainrotting over an asoiaf/game of thrones and ac crossover. like assassins striking fear in the hearts of the targaryen dynasty ever since maegor the cruel was found dead alone on the throne. i feel like things wouldve been better if someone just thought to unalive mad king aerys. but would that mean so many terrible lords suddenly getting assassinated and their decendants peer pressured to be decent rulers unless they meet the same fate dfkgjhgfj

Welp, it seems the tags are not working for me because I just spent 15ish minutes trying to find these. XD

Anyway…

Here’s a “Desmond sorta adopts Dany and Vis” idea.

Here’s a “Desmond turns into a White Dragon during HOTD” idea and the continuation.

So, for this one, we’re going for the Brotherhood exists in the ‘verse of asoiaf, right? In that scenario, we can make the Brotherhood become a more ‘honorable’ off-shoot of Faceless Men. We’ll probably need to change the backgrounds of the characters but this would be set as the main characters of AC doing what they do best (and I kinda like the idea that Ezio is the son of a minor house that got fucked over by the Lannisters during the war of the five kings).

I kinda like the idea of Altaïr being the one to kill King Aerys and becoming the mentor of Ezio, Desmond and Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Maybe their backstory would be that the Mad King managed to purge most of the Assassins and Altaïr was one of the few survivors so killing him had been both to protect Westeros and to avenge the death of his brothers while he was still young.

So this would be more in the lines of a man that’s suddenly thrust into becoming a mentor of men not that much older than him.

As I have written before, Ezio would be the son of a fallen minor house that got trampled on by the Lannister during the start of the War of the Five Kings.

I think Ratonhnhaké:ton can be part of the Green Men. 

While Desmond is a bastard of unknown origins who is actually also a survivor of the purge and found Altaïr after he had killed the Mad King. They were searching for other survivors of their Brotherhood when they saved Ezio and met Ratonhnhaké:ton who told them that he had dreamed of them. 

So, in this situation, their Brotherhood continued the ‘fight’ during the War of the Five Kings but there’s only four of them so they can’t assassinate fast enough to stop all the tragedy that happens.

But… 

The shadows they cast are slowly being heard by those who live.

Those being oppressed see them as hope.

And those who are in power… believe they will see their end soon.

But the longer they lived, the more lives they take, leaving behind a bloody feather as their ‘message’...

The more fear gripped those who remain.

.

Unorganized Notes:

I focused on Westeros because the other asoiaf asks I got were Targayen focused XD

Ezio’s habit of being friendly with nobles/people in power returns and this time he thinks allying with the Starks is a good idea. Thankfully for him, Robb Stark is more honorable than Lorenzo de' Medici. Unfortunately for him, Robb Stark is more honorable than the other lords in Westeros. 

If you want Arya to be an Assassin, I would suggest Ratonhnhaké:ton being the one to find her. Your choice of when he finds her though.

Altaïr does not approve of Ezio becoming close with the Starks, only because the Brotherhood must remain in the shadows. This causes Ezio and Altaïr to butt heads that Desmond has to referee.

Desmond may or may not be a bastard of a high ranking noble. Who knows? 

If you want Haytham to stand against them, may I suggest… Haytham being the lord of House Birch. The rumors are he’s adopted and not a true Birch but no one would say that to his face. Shay is his knight. 

The other Assassins like Arno, Evie and Jacob? Uuummm… orphan children that Desmond sorta kinda adopted while Ratonhnhaké:ton was picking up a half-feral child and Altaïr was busy arguing with Ezio?

They all end up being Altaïr's responsibility XD

[kosmicsandshoes]

So, i recently found your blog, and saw you have a 3p au, and i love the au so far.

I had some ideas that popped into my head while reading the main post about the au, and i’m not sure why, but i’m getting major creepy mime vibes when i try to imagine what 3p del would look like (and maybe shadow demon vibes when i imagine 3p toonz as well)

Love the au and the spooky vibes I’m getting from it.

you’re not gonna believe me when i say i was planning on making delirious a mime lol

as for cartoonz, while shadow demon is pretty damn cool, i feel it’s used alot (and i didn’t want any shadow demon colors clashing with vanoss’s primarily purple and black color scheme), so i’m going for a more imp approach, what with the goat legs and all

Now for the explanation >:]

3p! Delirious is a mime, as previously stated. However, his character is more similar to that of other famous black and white clown derivatives, such as Art the Clown from Terrifier and the creepypasta Laughing Jack. Also a bit of Security Breach’s Sun and Moon thrown in for good measure. 3p! Delirious is generally very playful, however it conceals his malicious intent. The one thing that’s hard to come by as a mime is an audience. He puts on his show, and through the mystical manipulation powers his buddy Nogla possesses, he’s able to have a captive audience. During his performance, many of his audience members are frozen in place, and have to watch in abject horror as the crowd is picked off one by one in some pretty gruesome ways. Because he kills every crowd he gathers, Delirious is convinced that he just needs more practice to get the audience to stay. More practice means more victims unfortunately.

3p! Cartoonz on the other hand, is a swamp imp lord, as opposed to a demon. He’s totally blind, as you can see, so he’s naturally very predatorial. He hunts humans for sport, rather than confronting them with big talks of higher deities and sinuous activities, he pounces, no questions asked. He’s not feral in the way that Vanoss is, as he is of sound mind and high intelligence, he just has a general disregard for human life. Cartoonz doesn’t care if you’re a follower of Christ, a serial murderer, a beggar in the streets or narcissistic asshole, all humans are the same to him. While he wouldn’t consider himself allied with any of the 3p! BBS, they are the only few shown any hint of mercy by the imp lord. This is due to a mixture of being summoned to the mortal world by 3p! Basically and allowed to do as he pleased, and Nogla’s own manipulation.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

A Future That’s Worth It

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+ (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Nothing in particular.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I have some headcanons on height and weight of the characters that I used for this one. Have fun!

^^^^^

The bed dipped behind me. I’d been more than halfway to sleep, but the movement shocked me awake. I rolled over.

Rhysand gave me a lazy smile. “Evening, love,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

“Technically no, but a little bit.”

“Sorry.” The look on his face implied he was in no way genuinely apologetic. He shuffled to get more comfortable, one wing draping over the two of us, and loosed a long sigh. I snuggled against his bare chest, eyes on his tattoos.

“Something the matter?” I asked quietly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“If I never have to truly fight again, for the rest of what will hopefully be a very long life, I will be grateful,” he said, breath fluttering my loose hairs.

“Me too,” I agreed.

I felt a claw against my mental shields, a single, gentle drag against the black marble I used to keep my private thoughts private. A request for entry. I reached out tiredly to feel his own mental shield was already lowered. A rare occurrence for him. He had one of the most complex shields I’d ever experienced.

I let the shield drop. His presence overwhelmed me almost immediately. I’d probably never fully witness the extreme depth of his power, but it dominated over my little well of magic by what was probably thousands of times.

His presence was the comforting, healing darkness of lovers clinging to one another. The gentle shade under a wide oak tree on a hot summer day. Nothing of the sharp, secret darkness of spies and assassins. The soft night of dreams. “Do you feel peace, now?” I asked. “Now that the King of Hybern is dead and his army decimated?”

“It’ll take years for me to reach true peace for that, after all the pain and death and suffering. But I feel peace right now, holding you. I feel a grim tranquility in knowing I would gladly cause more carnage if it meant keeping you safe. I hated releasing that beast inside me during the war, but I’ll always go feral to protect what’s mine. You, our family, this city, our people. All of it. I would fight until my own death to ensure the future of those I’m responsible for.”

“Self-sacrificing fool,” I teased. There was no bite to the words.

“You’re one too,” he retorted with the same tired lack of malice.

“Never said I wasn’t. Therefore, you can’t call me a hypocrite.”

“Touché.”

I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to me. “Get some sleep, High Lord. We both need it.”

He brushed some of my loose hairs from my face. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” I smiled slightly.

The sweet caress of his darkness in my mind soothed all the day’s worries. If neither of us ever had to pick up a blade for a battle ever again, it would be too soon.

I reached up with the hand around his waist and stroked the bone of his wing. He shivered, but he’d taught me where to touch to calm, and where to touch to excite. His other muscles were pliant, relaxed, as I ran my fingers gently over his wing.

We put each other to sleep not long after that.

—

“—told him it was a bad idea, but he was just like, ‘Stop telling me how to live my life!’” Mor’s loud voice woke me the next morning as the doors opened downstairs, the last bit dropping as low as she could go in a horrible but hilarious imitation of Cassian. Amren’s laughter followed.

The bed was empty besides me, but Rhys’ side was still warm.

I got up and pulled on my dressing gown over my nightgown. I brushed my hair briefly so it wasn’t quite so tangled and ventured out of our room.

Mor and Amren had already made it to the kitchen and were raiding the pantry for breakfast.

“What’s a bad idea?” I asked around a yawn.

“Cassian was gonna challenge Azriel to a flying race. From the House to the roof here,” Mor explained, pointing directly overhead.

“Azriel’s gonna win,” I said.

“That’s what I said. Cassian didn’t listen.”

I chuckled, joining them for breakfast.

Amren looked around. “Where’s your High Lord?”

“I was gonna ask you two the same thing. I assumed he got out of bed and came down to talk to you guys. Sheets were still warm when I woke up.”

Mor’s expression turned to one of amused dread. “He’s gonna join the race,” she said.

“I bet you’re right,” I replied. I rubbed my eyes. “They are five-and-a-half centuries old and they still behave like children.”

“Glad you’re his mate and not me,” Amren said with a smile as she drank from her goblet and shuddered. She hated food still, but she no longer had a choice.

“Frankly, me too,” I said. “I can’t imagine the chaos the two of you would cause.”

Mor laughed.

I assume you’re at the House of Wind? I thought down the bond, pushing the thought hard to make sure he received it.

Yep, Rhys’ voice replied in my mind.

I’ll be on the roof. Mor and I will referee.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. The words were too laced with laughter to be the truth.

Children. All three of you, I fired back.

All I got in return was his rumbling laughter. Distant thunder promising a welcome summer storm.

“Wanna join me on the roof?” I offered to Mor and Amren.

“Not really,” Amren replied.

“I will,” Mor said.

The two of us climbed up the stairs and sat on the white-painted iron chairs. Mor had a cup of tea and I had a mug of molten chocolate.

I looked up at the House of Wind. So far, there were no figures flying around its peak.

Mor lounged on her chair and eyed me. “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrugged. The early spring air was still clinging to the cold of winter and my satin dressing gown and nightgown were clinging to the cold right along with it, but it was something of a welcome change after the stifling heat under the covers in bed. “I’ll be fine for how long it’ll take Rhys and his brothers to get here.”

You ready? I asked.

Waiting on you, he replied.

We’re ready.

Then look up.

“They’re going,” I said to Mor, turning my attention back to the House.

Sure enough, three figures leapt off a balcony near the peak, streaking in a straight line toward us, wings barely extended to keep them aloft and at the angle they wanted. From their distance I couldn’t make out who was who yet, but I knew it wouldn’t take long.

“Five gold marks on Azriel,” I said.

“Aren’t you supposed to always bet on Rhys?” Mor teased.

“Azriel is lighter than Rhys and Cassian. I’m making an educated guess.”

She laughed. “Okay. Five gold marks on Rhys then.”

We watched them get closer.

“Rhys is going to be offended you bet against him,” Mor remarked.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“Rhys can winnow and Azriel… kinda does to. With the shadows. I’m not sure how he does it,” Mor mused. “But, Cassian—he just flies everywhere. So he’s probably a little better at it than both of them. More practiced, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah… how about, if Cassian wins, we each give Amren five marks?”

Mor laughed. “She’d love and hate that. That we made her bet for her and chose Cassian.”

I shrugged. “Probably. But she wouldn’t mind the money.”

“Not at all.”

I caught glints of blue and red. Rhys was on the left, no Siphons, with Cassian in the middle and Azriel to the right. I still couldn’t tell who was in front, but it looked like I might have been right about Azriel. He looked like he was barely ahead of Rhys and Cassian.

As the three drew closer, I realized this was the future we’d fought the war for. The future full of fun and joy. The future of stupid games and meaningless bets. No gambling lives. Just a few marks for no reason other than fun. If Rhys never turned into that beast again, if he’d done enough to ensure our safety and security—finally—then it was all worth it.

They were close enough to see their faces now. Mor and I cleared a place where three could land all close to the same time and not knock over any furniture or trip. While Mor thought it’d be funny, I didn’t want anyone to face-plant off the roof.

Azriel slammed feet first into the roof. I thought I heard the attic rattle. Rhys hit barely half a second after, with Cassian right behind.

Mor gave me a long-suffering glance and sipped her tea. “I owe you five marks,” she said before flouncing back downstairs.

“You placed bets?” Cassian asked.

“You’re surprised?” I retorted sharply. Azriel snorted quietly.

“Fair enough,” Cassian said.

“You bet against me?” Rhys sounded offended even as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His warmth banished the cold clinging to my dressing gown.

I shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to rise to his bait. “Azriel’s lighter than both of you. Skinnier. He can probably cut through the air easier. I made an educated guess,” I said, repeating what I said to Mor. I tilted up onto my tiptoes and kissed Rhys’ chin, since he was too tall for me to reach his cheek.

Rhys chuckled. “That’s okay, because I owe Cassian ten marks. I bet on Azriel too.” He kissed my forehead. The four of us still on the roof started making our way down. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“Whatever anyone can find!” Mor shouted from below.

I grabbed Rhys’ wrist and held him so Cassian and Azriel would get ahead of us. When we were alone, I wrapped my arms around him. “This is the future we—you—fought for,” I whispered. “Is it worth it, to you?”

“I can’t think of anything more worth it.”

“Me neither.”

We held each other for a few more moments.

Then Cassian was calling us to haul downstairs before the food was gone.

Laughing, we descended.

[benis-chillin]

Sonic Wolf 6 Profiles: Jack the Wolf

Well, this blog's recent glut of pornbot followers are about to get a shock.

So basically, part of the reason I wanted a Tumblr is to have an outlet for fanfic stuff. I just don't think Twitter cares that much, even if I do try to promote it there.

But of course, I needed to let some context and backlog build, so it's only NOW getting fanfic posts.

Nobody will care about these except for me, but I still want to post some behind the scenes and lore stuff about my ongoing Sonic fanfic series: Wolf 6. It's free, and it's for fun, just like all of my fanfics!

So, why are they called Wolf 6? Because I suck at naming things and couldn't think of a better name.

I might do some stuff on the individual stories if I don't feel that the character stuff intertwines with it enough, but some of this stuff(like my Shadow Android storyline I wanna do at some point)needs the full context to build. Now that "Now and Then" is out, though, I think some focus posts on the main three(I've been thinking of dubbing them "Team Wolf," but that sounds kinda uninspired)and their Wolf 6 teammates are finally ready to go, starting with the patriarch of this bizzaro family, Jack the Wolf.

Name: Jack the Wolf

Age: 21

Bio: Jack was a fairly normal wolf before the Eggman War. A master chef and overall positive person, you would never think that he'd be one for war, much less leading a team into fierce battle. However, during Infinite's first strike, he lost the love of his life, Sarah. After that, his entire personality shifted. He became cold and distant, donning a facemask and goggles to hide his emotions on the battlefield, leading the Resistance Unit, Wolf 6, on the toughest jobs. Now retired after the war, he lives with Cyber and Raccoon in the Mystic Ruins. In battle, he uses a Void Wispon, and also wields an energy blade gifted to him by former teammate Edge, which can easily sweep through Badniks for a short period after unsheathing, or can be swung to absorb enemy fire, and send it back to them in a large wave.

Please stifle your laughter at my oh-so edgy OC.

So Jack has an interesting creation history. You see, he was the OC I made when I first played Sonic Forces, which yes, is where I make all of my Sonic OCs. It's cheaper than hiring an artist that I can't afford(and to be clear, they deserve that money I don't have. I just don't have the money).

His look developed naturally as I played the game, with the black and white battle suit, accented with yellow here and there. His face mask and goggles giving him a mysterious visage. The only thing I added when he became an actual character was the cowboy hat to make his look more complete.

But of course, this just begs the question: Why a wolf? And why is he red?

Because the wolf avatars in Forces have the ring attract ability, and red is my favorite color. That's literally the only reason. May have thought subtly of the Gadget OC config, but I don't remember.

Anyway, these pictures actually omit a small detail that's in the stories. This happens a lot with the Forces OCs, so get used to it.

Basically, he has a black utility belt, Batman style, and a sheath on his back for his energy sword. I've used MS Paint to highlight the general shape of these details in red.

Ah yes, you may have noticed the energy blade. Basically, I felt that purely having him wield his Void Wispon(chosen because Void is my favorite Wisp)was very bland and not Sonic-like, especially since a theme of Jack's character is that he's just a regular dude caught up in all of the weirdness of Sonic canon. He wants to spend a lovely evening with his cyborg girlfriend and adopted feral child, but he needs the power to keep up in a world of super-sonic hedgehogs and egg-themed despots.

Anyway, the energy blade stays fairly short when not energized. It's barely even sharp. However, it lengthens when energized and activated(for short bursts, to keep it from being TOO OP), displaying a rainbow effect similar to one of the pictures below. That effect is because I thought it would look cool in the non-existent art of it in action.

But of course, that's him in battle, how does he look OFF of the battlefield?

He's naked, that's what.

(Btw, don't take that wrist launcher and those shoes as canon. Forces limitations)

(Also, Jack is DEFINITELY a fuzzy slippers guy)

As mentioned before, Jack's just a normal dude with deep-ass war trauma trying to live his life as normally as possible. He doesn't want to wear anything special. Heck, the only reason he started wearing the battlesuit was so he'd always be able to make the sacrifice after what happened with OnePunch in a scene depicted at the beginning of "Those who left us behind." I think this first death is where he started clinging to any sense of normalcy, to the point of not wanting to kick Edge off of the team when it was obvious he needed to be kicked off. But of course, that's just some internal logic, so it may read differently to you.

For those curious, here's what he was wearing in that scene.

And while we're here, here's a reference mock-up I made back in the day of the outfit he was wearing in the third story of "3 Tales of the Chaotix."

Fun fact, in the original draft of that story, Cyber gave his ass a playful smack before winking at him. I toned it down in the final edit, but I figured I'd mention it here so y'all would know that I'm not COMPLETELY asexual.

Anyway, a recent retcon to Jack's civilian form is facial scars and a damaged right eye. I avoided this in the initial version of "Prototypes," since I didn't want to come off as an edgelord, but as a writer, I've grown to accept the fact that I am, in fact, an edgelord, so scars he gets in my signature MS Paint fashion.

Also, I chose to damage his right eye because I'm missing my right eye IRL. I think he can actually see a bit out of his, though. It at least perceives light to some degree.

He also gained a new permanent scar on his right arm and hand from the final battle in "Those who left us behind," btw. I'll try to bring it up in story at some point, but for now that's just lame-ass Tumblr lore.

And so, that's Jack. If you read through this all, and decided it interests you, here are some story links:

The full Wolf 6 collection on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2802334

A Tumblr textpost made to promote Then and Now: https://www.tumblr.com/benis-chillin/698601893325389824/a-regular-run-of-the-mill-ambush

Alright, I'll see you guys next time I decide to upload these for best girl, Cyber the Canary! Take care!

[puppy-phum]

some heihua for the soul

so the update for Binding isn’t happening today bc my brain is complete mush after trying to aggressively finish my thesis yesterday and i decided to give my brain two days off bc of that. also, i promised @ashenwren some time to beta read the ending part (which they already did but! now i need some time with it myself) so i am leaving everybody to wait until saturday. 

meanwhile, i am offering yall a sneak peek/first look at my heihua fic which is very loosely tied to my pingxie. basically, this is just me playing around with hei xiazi as a character and his and xiao hua’s dynamic’s more... tender side. 

i know that @jockvillagersonly and ashen have already read this which has been amazing so thank you for your love ♥ but take this again ^^ also thanks to @cross-d-a for listening to me ramble about heihua and sharing this idea with me. and thank you to @i-am-just-a-kiddo​ who i’m doing all of this for ♥ you are the best parent-in-law for these two and this fandom!

It’s a bad week for him. 

First, it’s the girl he finds while raiding a warehouse full of smuggled weapons and possibly, most likely, drugs. She’s maybe twelve, eyes wide and hair messy, bones poking her skin where Hei Xiazi can see her elbows flashing under her short sleeves. There are bruises around her wrists and burn marks on the inside of her arms. She doesn’t speak but she doesn’t have to, all of her screaming of experiences worthy of a hundred years instead of a dozen. 

She presses her face into her hands when Hei Xiazi fires his gun, and he feels something come loose inside of him at the broken, aborted noise she makes that rings louder than the shot itself. 

Hei Xiazi carries her kicking and screaming out of the warehouse, leaving behind the slowly ending gun fight and the smell of gasoline. She only goes silent once Hei Xiazi puts her down, flinching bodily away from him but not going far. She hovers, fingers slowly curling around the hem of his long jacket while they wait, shoulders hunching against the cold. Hei Xiazi offers her his jacket with a smile, buys her a sandwich which she then throws up, and helps her into a hospital once they’re safe to leave. 

No one else stays behind with her. All the other people they found from that warehouse scattered as soon as the fight began and only she remained, lost in the thought of having to leave the premises that had become her world. She has no family, no house, no money. Hei Xiazi watches her leave with the social workers, bones of her wrists like twigs threatening to snap even after some proper meals and eyes so big they seem to swallow the light around her. She still hasn’t said a word. Hei Xiazi doubts she ever will. 

Her pale face looks like a ghost as she turns to give Hei Xiazi one last glance over her shoulder, and that’s what she becomes to him once he goes home and puts that warehouse out of his mind. It’s hard and he feels himself haunted, and whatever it was that got loose in his chest rattles like the tail of a snake. 

Then, he hears about Su Wan. Hears about the mission that went south with the three youngsters. Hears about Su Wan getting hurt. 

It isn’t anything new in their line of business to get hurt, to even die. When he first met the boy in the desert, he predicted he would find him six feet under after only a day. There was too much softness in Su Wan, too much trust, too much naivete. He had a big brain and clever ideas but his core was gooey, leaking out in way too telling bursts, leaving nothing hidden. 

Su Wan had reminded Hei Xiazi of young Wu Xie. Even his floundering with his knife had reminded him of Wu Xie. Even his adaptability had been annoyingly similar to Wu Xie’s, and Hei Xiazi had questioned his taste in students. At least the boy had paid better. At least the boy hadn’t been wishing to die. 

He had not expected, after knowing all of that, to experience such fear when he first heard that Su Wan had gotten himself stabbed and had almost bled out in a cave, with only Li Cu and Yang Hao to look after himself and a saving bed of a hospital hours away. His hands had shook, making it impossible to hold anything while trying to breathe, and he had quickly been reminded of the little girl, torn open and going a bit feral just because she didn’t know what to do.

It was a surprisingly new thing to care. As surprising as the fact that he still knew of such things.

“I thought I had taught you better, kid,” he says as he goes to the hospital, in the middle of the night of all things, having to cover Su Wan’s mouth so that he doesn’t scream and wake up the better half of the city. The boy’s eyes are wide and heartbeat rapid under his fingers where he can feel it pulsing against Su Wan’s jaw. Then the boy is scrambling at his fingers to speak from between them. He pulls his hand away. 

“Hei-ye!” the boy whispers fervently, like an anchor casted in water. “I thought you were out of the country!”  

“I was until yesterday when I heard that you got stabbed,” he explains, voice leaning more towards mockery than any actual care. Su Wan knows what that means. The boy knows more than anyone else has ever known about a person like Hei Xiazi. It’s a strange thing but Hei Xiazi has come to almost like it. 

“I’m fine!” the boy chirps, lighting up like a lightbulb. Hei Xiazi helps him sit in his bed, snatching a chair for himself from the corner, and then evaluates the damage. Su Wan is smiling while a thick roll of bandages circle his stomach. There are at least thirty stitches there, curving along his side. Some more adorn his bicep where he tried to evade another blade. A darkening bruise is making his cheek swell, casting an extra shadow under his chin. 

Hei Xiazi sighs and closes his eyes when Su Wan starts to tell the story, his voice a soft whisper made even softer with lingering sleep. The beep of the machines tell Hei Xiazi the boy is alive. The painful thrum of his own heart tells him he’s alive too. 

Su Wan falls asleep holding onto Hei Xiazi’s sleeve. He cannot remember how the boy got the leather between his fingers but prying his hold away is like bending steel. It feels impossible and burns equal amounts. 

Finally, he slips back into the cold night. 

He doesn’t go to his apartment, the one he’s currently occupying, his few belongings strewn across the floor and nothing making the place feel like his. Even after years and years and years, some part of him still feels sick at the thought of emptiness. He’s tried his hardest to carve his bones empty and chest clean but after each year spent alone or with someone or wanting, he realizes it’s a battle he cannot win. There’s something terribly strong under his ribs. It refuses to die even before his curse of immortality and the knowledge that goes beyond his comprehension. It refuses to die even when facing the cold, cruel world. 

The walls surrounding the Xie Manor are high but not high enough to keep him at bay. If they were, he would’ve never come here. He would’ve never returned, not after he once left. 

Climbing up the wall of the manor to the third floor makes his lungs burn, but then he’s pushing the window open already, stepping silently onto the polished floor. 

“Xiazi,” a familiar voice says, not even pretending to sound sleepy. “It’s three in the morning. Is it really a suitable time to be visiting the head of Xie family?”

Hei Xiazi smiles, shrugging off his leather jacket and placing it onto the back of a chair beside him. The air in the room feels chilly with the window open but he likes to hear the noises from outside and he likes the line of silver painted onto the floor and across the luxurious double bed. He likes that he can pretend his vision is so clear just because of the moon. 

“Hua’er-ye,” he says back, voice like honey because he loves to tease this man and loves how the tone makes his perfect eyebrows pinch. “Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”

“I would dream you naked at least, not dripping mud all over my floors.”

“As you wish,” he says and reaches for his own belt before moving closer to the bed, toeing his shoes off on the first two steps.

Xie Yuchen is warm but firm when Hei Xiazi meets his body, crashing into his lips and then slipping hands down his silk covered spine. He hums, hiding his laugh. He’s always loved the absolute brilliance and practicality and strength of this man but under all that, Xie Yuchen is a little spoiled. A rich family head. A powerful man with more money than Hei Xiazi could possibly imagine. He’s never tried, not really caring. For all his acting, he’s never gone for Xie Yuchen for his money. 

He takes care of helping Xie Yuchen out of his expensive pajamas, kissing him wet and shivering after each uncovered piece of skin. There is something beautiful about Xie Yuchen in the stark light of the moon, eyes burning bright and the line of his throat like an invitation. Hei Xiazi wishes he could tell him that, sometimes, but he’s preferred to seal his lips. His poetry would not suit the ears of Xie Yuchen. 

He’s never been one for pretty words, crude and almost barbaric instead, tongue made out of barbwire and mind of a strategic plan. Between them, all those edges exist in harmony, and so he’s never felt the need for anything more, enjoying the simplicity of just being. 

Ironically, as the sun is already rising, coloring the horizon with its colorless light, he still descends into words. It’s like something is pulling them out of his chest, and when there’s a force outside of his control beneath his ribs, he cannot do anything but unravel upon Xie Yuchen’s white satin sheets.

“There was this girl,” he says, looking into the still remaining dark – or as dark as anything can be for his eyes, that comfort taken from him ages ago. “I saved her from a warehouse a couple of days ago. She didn’t speak, couldn’t eat because she’d been kept hungry for so long. There were burn marks on her arms, probably from cigarettes or a lighter. They told me she was thirteen. She didn’t look like she was thirteen.”

Xie Yuchen’s hands are on his back, brushing lightly against his shoulder blades, drawing something there. His heartbeat is steady under Hei Xiazi’s cheek and his skin burns, burns, burns. He remembers how he had looked at that girl in the eyes and seen himself there. 

“I remember,” he says quietly, closing his eyes, “feeling the same burn on my skin. I have no memories of when or why but I know there were cigarettes. I know her pain. I know the scars.”

“Were you a child back then?” Xie Yuchen asks, his body a strong, sturdy thing against him. A rock. A mountain. He never thought he would feel lost in this world but there is something about himself in every child he’s ever saved, in all of their wide, fearful eyes, in all of their screams, their desperate fight, their bared teeth and messy heads of hair. There’s something about him in all of their thrumming, wild panic, like a bird under their skin; in their desperation to get away, to find a place to belong, to find safety and food and trust. To heal a body that has not been their own or has felt like an enemy or a liability or a curse. 

He cannot remember the time he was a child, cannot remember the time before he went blind and began to see too much, cannot remember being anything but this eternal man on the outskirts of the world. He cannot remember ever having a family or feeling the absence of it. 

But then, there’s this echo in his mind. It rings back from the eyes of every child he’s ever tried to help. He thinks, maybe, he still knows how he lost. 

“I only remember being burned,” he says. “I only remember the pain and being afraid. And isn’t that a stupid thing to remember when it could be so many things?” He laughs, as much as it can be a laugh when something twists inside of his chest, bringing tightly together that something that was let loose. He chokes on it, feeling his voice die down. Xie Yuchen turns beside him so that they both lie on their sides, looking at each other. The line of the moon falls over Xie Yuchen’s hips and almost lands on Hei Xiazi’s waiting hand. 

“Bad things linger,” Xie Yuchen says with a certainty of a man who knows this to be true. During the years, Hei Xiazi has learned a couple of the bad things that happened to this proud man. “But you are turning them into something good.”

“And how much does it change to save a couple of children?” he huffs, tired of the heart that cannot leave him at peace.  

“For them, everything.”

[seijuurouxryuu]

Of Death, Of Time

Title: Of Death, Of Time Author: Shiro (TeitoxAkashi [AO3]/ seijuurouxryuu [tumblr]) Rating: T Pairing: Death/Tsuna; Reborn/Fon Event: @khrrarepairweek Prompts: Necromancer AU | Unknowingly Flirting Tags/Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warning

Day 5: Rain Day

Tsuna was a witch—a necromancer in his first mortal life. He didn’t know how he became one, but one day he became aware that he was one. One who steals from Death, one who forces the souls it reaps to work for him. And that was all he does.

Every life he went through, every reincarnation—he called upon the dead souls, and called upon Death. He was the unrest of the world.

AO3

“P-please,” The boy rasped. “S-save her. Just her, please don’t take her away too.” Death looked down at the boy expressionlessly, face half humane half bone. “It’s her time.” It whispered, ghastly and solemn, time ticking in the background like a countdown, like a reminder. “It’s both of yours.”

 The boy sobbed, tears mixed with red as he coughed out blood, head bleeding all the same. He couldn’t move, couldn’t scream, only whisper. To the reaper of souls, to the one who looked far sadder than he who would soon die. He was unwilling, but he knew there was nothing he could do. Clutching on his sister’s hands, as cold as his, unmoving, pulseless. He could only resign to it—resign to fate.

 He was unwilling, but seeing Death’s boney hand clutching against the scythe tightly, he relented.

 “W-where will we go next, then?” The boy tried to smile, tried to relief Death’s sadness. Ah, how many has it seen, the pleads of those whose time were up? How many times had Death seen the rage, unwillingness, sorrow, fear? How many times had Death went through such events that even it felt such overwhelming sadness for humans?

 The boy could only wonder as he felt his strength slipping, sleepiness and darkness slowly engulfing him. For a moment, he felt as though he was home with his sister beside him, safe.

 “… Home,” Death said as it watched the child relented to eternal sleep’s grasp. “You both are going home.” It tilted the tip of the scythe down gently and reaped the souls, watching both the boy and girl, two glowing children, pulses and disappear to where they would reincarnate; to be siblings once more.

 ‘Thank you.’ They both whispered.

 Death watched as they went, and it disappeared into thin air.

 .

 Tsuna was once a bird, a tree, a child, a father, a mother, a fish, a dragon. He was once a lot of creatures, and was once nothing. He was once air, and he was once the ground.

 He was everything.

 Tsuna never knew how he came to be, but he knew he was what he was. He was the universe itself. He remembered of vague changes, shifts, and stutters of the world. He experienced those changes, helped the build up of civilization, watched life came to be and left.

 He remembered mostly of Death, at every step he took.

 Tsuna was a witch—a necromancer in his first mortal life. He didn’t know how he became one, but one day he became aware that he was one. One who steals from Death, one who forces the souls it reaps to work for him. And that was all he does.

 Every life he went through, every reincarnation—he called upon the dead souls, and called upon Death. He was the unrest of the world.

 “My lord.” Tsuna opened his eyes, glowing orange as he looked at Death who stood by his bed, looming and blending into the darkness. He saw him all the same, as clear as daylight. He smiled.

 “Welcome home.” He reached out and encircled his arms around Death.

 .

 The boy and girl had a long dream during their journey home. It was but a blur, but they saw; of their past, present and future. They remembered, of those they forgot. And they yearned, to see their home sooner.

 Lambo and I-pin.

 They wanted to see Tsuna.

 .

 Tsuna woke up again the next day in Death’s embrace. He didn’t mind, he loved it even. He smiled at the half humane half bone face, kissing the white skull and whispered a greeting. Death was never asleep, it remained awake even as Tsuna slumbered. The humane part of its face crinkled in silent delight at that as it let go of Tsuna.

 Tsuna stretched, back arching as the blanket that covered his naked upper torso slipped down, letting Death sees every part that it knew oh so well. Tsuna stepped out of their bed and got dressed. He picked up the ring of Time on the desk and slipped it onto his right middle finger, playing with the chains around it.

 “They are here.”

 Tsuna smiled, relieved. His shoulders relaxed as he felt for the souls of his family, warm and burning in the ring. He could feel the youngest two were restless, all but wanting to see him again. He would, soon. He would get to them soon.

 Not just yet.

 “You would be the harbinger of blood in next life.” Death piped out from where it was.

 Tsuna barked out a laugh. “When am I never, Death?” He teased. “I am your reflection, after all.”

 It shook its head, walking over to caress Tsuna’s cheeks, feeling the warm radiating to its bones. “You may be my representation, but you are you. You are yourself; not me.”

 Tsuna sighed, nuzzling against its hand. “I know.”

 “… And I don’t think you are allowed to summon the dead souls next life.” Tsuna raised an eyebrow at that.

 “Why not?”

 Death’s lips were pursed, disgruntled yet resigned. “… Life reincarnated.”

 Tsuna paused and stare at it.

 “… It will be your tutor next life.”

 “… Fuck.”

 .

 When Tsuna remembered, he was 34 and the Vongola Neo Primo of Vongola Famiglia. That night, he went to sleep drunk from the party of his 34th birthday, and he woke up with a splitting headache from the rum and gin the Varia and Reborn chugged down his throat.

 And as he groaned, he remembered everything. Life fucked him up so badly this lifetime.

 “Rise and shine, Dame-Tsuna!” Tsuna snapped his fingers and the shadows of undead shot straight towards Reborn. The hitman—Life—merely snorted at the weak attempt and squashed all of them, straight away sending them to reincarnation.

 “Fuck you, Life.”

 It rolled its eyes at Tsuna, grinning ferally. “Good morning to you too, Time. By the way, stop playing with those dead souls every time you remember. It’s so annoying.”

 “My business.” Tsuna hissed. He shook the hangover gone and gathered the rest of the undead souls from every corner of the house. Soon, shadows and silhouettes of those once alive gathered in his room. He looked through each and one of them, pelting a few at Reborn who punt them into reincarnation, and breathed, keeping the rest in his indispensable space for those dead.

 The pocket watch in him ticked. And stopped.

  Life leaned back and started floating to the air like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. It pouted, black obsidian eyes turning white as it stared right through Tsuna’s space.

 “Why keep such untasteful bunch of souls? Why not just let them reincarnate and suffer in the mortal world?”

 Tsuna knew that it was trying to make him let the souls go, but he wouldn’t. Not like he needed those souls, but he knew keeping them would piss Life off, which it deserved for throwing Tsuna all over around for almost two decades of his mortal life.

 “Whatever that is you're doing, it’s not working.” He huffed as he clenched his right fist. Opening it up, there sat on his palm was the ring of Time, sealed. He smiled and pull off the chain, and it glowed as Tsuna’s sealed powers returned to him.

 “Worth a try.” Life muttered, too used to Time’s chaos that rip the balance of life and death apart just to keep Death in its track. “It took you long enough to wake this time.” During last lifetime, it remembered that Tsuna woke up the moment he was nine in mortal world.

 Tsuna shrugged. Maybe because he overworked Death this lifetime, with the number of people he had to kill. Or maybe because he was just lazy, who knows. Time did not have such concept as long or short. It just knew when to continue or stop.

 Tsuna blinked and his eyes turned bright orange. Standing by his side was Death, still half humane half bone. Tsuna smiled up to it and reached over. Death easily took him into its arm.

 “I missed you.” Tsuna hummed, nuzzling.

 Death whispered of the same as they kissed.

 Life rolled its eyes at the two sappy being of unrest and disappeared off to its own beloved.

 Tsuna soon pulled away and blinked cheekily at Death. “Time to start summoning to piss of Life.”

 Death’s lips tugged up into a smile. “It is no longer disturbed by such moves.” Tsuna rolled his eyes. “I don’t care. I’m going to make it a bigger event this lifetime. Reborn screwed me inside out for almost two decades, I’m angry.”

 Death stroked his fluffy hair and shook its head resignedly, letting Tsuna do as he liked. It didn’t matter anyway, because whatever Tsuna did would mean lessening its workload and it could spend more time with Tsuna.

 “Whatever you are happy with, darling.”

 .

 Two years later, a zombie apocalypse happened.

 Reborn almost shot Tsuna to death if not for Fon stopping him.

----------------------------------

A/N: Death is Death! Tsuna is Time! Reborn is Life!

Yes this is Death/Tsuna + Reborn/Fon fic :3 although Reborn and Fon didn't have much screen time uwu

First part is during their previous life before Vongola; Tsuna and the others left earlier than I-Pin and Lambo, who were last of them to leave the mortal world. Timeline's a bit wonky, but ye. They are always the youngest. ALWAYS.

A bit of lore, which is Tsuna or Time was the first existence of the universe, but remained asleep when Death and Life appeared. Then somehow he woke up when civilization started, and forcefully wedged himself between the balance Death and Life created. He hated how Death has to go through all those sorrow when he reaps humans' soul so he made it a goal to at least screw Life up once every time he reincarnated into a human. Which is a handful of time.

But yeah, Time Tsuna who is also a necromancer since he could just isolate-turn back time of the soul right after Death reap it and before it gets noticed by Life, and make it his minions or something. Always hits up Life's workload :3

Anyways this is a sudden plunny that popped out so have a short impulsive story from me :D

[I apologize for any grammar, spellings, etc. etc. mistakes]

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

RWBY V08E05 - Amity

Amity! A return to the adventures of RWB? With no Penny sadly. I doubt we'll get so many visual puns again but who knows, maybe they'll make friends with Whitley or at least have a cordial chat with him without killing each other. I have no idea, so let's do this!

Wow, great start. Poor Pietro, got copypasted there with no regard for his feelings.

I'm very glad I was wrong about no Penny.. Even if every second she's on screen increases the chances of something bad happening to her.

Why does the HUD look like someone used the wand from photoshop to extract it from a white background?

Wait, are they going to blow up the Dust to launch amity into space?

Penny is right, that doesn't seem like a good idea but it's also incredibly in-character for the show. Now even caves are a gun.

Someone at Rooster Teeth really likes the idea of little old ladies riding huge robots, and honestly? Can't disagree.

hmmmmmmmm not a big fan of pietro at the moment

oof, my heart

Maria continues to be the voice of wisdom. Sadly, I doubt Pietro is going to listen to her.

In the original tale Pinocchio ends up learning by making bad choice after bad choice. Penny doesn't seem to have that much in common with her inspiration but if she hasn't ever been able to make a choice at all, would it be surprising if the first time she makes a choice it ends up being a bad one? It wouldn't surprise me if this is setting her up to fly away from Amity (against Pietro's wishes) once she notices something went wrong with everyone else (making her vulnerable)

Welp.

look at that poor girl

Aaaa, that's the same expression she used when Ruby said Penny was still the Protector of Mantle. "my feelings don't matter, conceal, don't feel, don't let them kn— wait, never mind

but yeah, she's used to putting everyone ahead of her (because as a robot she supposedly doesn't know better, there's a reason that was her first thought when she was talking with Winter in last season)

aw poop

Cinder was moving so fast she left her shadow behind.

Great deranged expression and voice though. Did she bring both Neo and Emerald or just the latter?

Penny yes

Hey, 9 blades! For a second I thought they wouldn't remember that she lost one.

no, no, no, time for what? aaaaa

Now that we have more context, Cinder using her own experiences to know where to hurt people is * chef kiss *

Intentional reference to the PvP fight?

okay, I didn't expect badass Maria to actually fight using her robot but I blame my own lack of imagination

now I'm hyped, it also gives something the other two something to do.

I think the main problem here for the good guys is that if Pietro gets threatened there's no way Penny is not going to surrender. Although, maybe he gets kidnapped? That'd make him get "swallowed" by a whale... hm. Another possibility is that they threaten Pietro and Penny gets hacked "just in time"

you can't lie to me, subtitles, I know she was going to say bitch

lol at crashing the entire ship into maria to get her out of the way

bad mistake to hurt one of Penny's friends in front of her

Did anyone give a job to poor Emerald? I can almost see Cinder telling Neo to distract people while in the ship with Emerald sitting in the back seat trying to get noticed.

C'mon Neo, leave the old lady alone

…of course she wouldn't leave her alone, she's Neo, she likes playing with her victims

I wonder if Neo has a deeper plan than "killing this old lady while looking like her protege would be incredibly cruel and extra and therefore worth doing"

If the drifting was an accident, where did Emerald go?

waiting for the RWBY shmup

I understand why she's leaving Amity (to prevent their fight from destroying it by accident) but leaving Pietro alone feels like a bad idea.

…this HUD is a lot cleaner, I don't get it, it should be the same png overlay

anyway, took the screenshot to write "wow, Cinder is actually capable of thinking through her rage these days, good for her" but now that I think about it, I'm not sure if she's ever been fooled.

booo

I wanted more evil Ruby

Also, I'm literally loling at Maria yoda-ing Neo.

ah yes, neo, so graceful

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

mmmmmmm

mmm

oof, looks like that was a direct hit. And the worst part is that the second James hacks into Penny, I assume it'll will work that way. Probably her worst nightmare.

Yeah, no, this worked for spiderman because his nemesis wasn't right in front of him.

I like the idea of this shot but for some reason the execution looks weird. Maybe it's just awkward positioning, it's hard to tell the angles.

lmao

* cough *

I mean, yeah, saw that coming.

For a second I thought she was melting her face but then I remembered the one reason Cinder has that arm.

I'm going to need a diagram to know what Emerald was doing.

Yessss, no need for swords if you can make your own

I really need to know what she was doing inside because right now it feels like that was the worst excuse ever to get her out of the fight until the last possible second (and maybe make it another reference to PvP when Ruby exits the corridor?)

Did she finally see Pietro?

Emerald has so much faith in Cinder, sigh

I wonder if before the end of the show Neo will get to stab someone with her umbrella. Maybe it could even be Cinder

First time she gets knocked out?

Cinder with a long spear only means one thing. Someone is getting stabbed

Huh.

I hadn't thought about this until now but before this second I'd have said Emerald's semblance shouldn't work on Penny. Like, what part is she affecting to make Penny see the duplicates? But I guess it does work, somehow. Maybe reality gets processed through Aura.

Fire spear vs laser, who wins?

Giant laser wins

Glad that Penny is confirmed as the most powerful character in the show.

Poor Emerald, two lines this episode and they are both "CINDER"

Damn, she looks done with their crap.

And now she looks absolutely feral. Loving this.

I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop. If she gets hacked now, Cinder still wins. She wouldn't get the maiden powers but at least she'd stop the transmission.

aaaaa

Emerald breaks my heart. So much love for someone who couldn't give a hoot about her.

At least Cinder seems to know her place with Salem, but I can't tell if she started like Emerald and got her love beaten down or if she just had different priorities after getting saved from what seemed similar circumstances.

Ah, Neo. Now to add to her resume that she beat a granny only because she got distracted.

oh, shut up, Pietro

Is this it? Is this where Penny "rebels"?

Even after all that fight, I think this is the best animation of the episode so far. It conveys so much resignation and annoyance.

I think this is the first time this season RWBY makes me teary-eyed. She finally said it!

This is too cute for this world.

Remember when I said that hug with Ruby felt like a goodbye? Well, this is much worse.

Wooo, she succeeded! (I hope, they did mention the message was a couple of minutes long)

But I'm also even more worried now because it feels like the one last thing she had to do.

They are back!

I wonder if the one character I miss the most will also get a shot.

Pensive Whitley? more likely than you think

He has a lot of potential, especially now that Salem -> Cinder -> Emerald are a thing, making cyclical abuse more of an explicit theme. Not sure if there's enough time to do him justice though, considering he's not much of a character.

"we don't want to reveal Vacuo yet, what do we do?" "put them in the desert"

Yessss, Ilia got a cameo!

Are they pulling her back from voiceless purgatory?

Holy shit, wow, really didn't expect to see her.

Literally a pet. I wonder where the hound falls in the hierarchy

...why is she so happy? She's not supposed to be happy!!

siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh

yeah

was expecting this

Poor guy, I wonder if this is the first news he gets from her daughters.

Taiyang made me realize they didn't show Yang's team. Huh.

Oh, fuck you rooster teeth.

Fuck oofffff (RT, not you, Pietro)

Is Winter end up doing the right thing? She's obviously affected by seeing Penny's sword there.

Also, I wonder if her new armor is just that or if it's a bracing system to help her move so soon after getting beat. But I guess that wouldn't be necessary if her aura helped her heal.

Hopefully, if Watts escapes and tries to get everyone else to help (since I doubt he can beat all the guards on his own), Qrow shows he learned his lesson about trusting the enemy.

ah, there you go

Okay, this is an amazing reveal. Is Salem transforming Mantle into another land of darkness? Because that'd definitely explain why she was so unworried about the broadcast.

What a way to end the episode. A brief moment of hope completely destroyed, twice.

Penny has been raising so many death flags that her inevitable hacking lacked some impact. I'm still sad (and annoyed at RT for poor Penny being a magnet for suffering) but Watts being Watts maybe he did a bad job just to prevent Atlas to escape? And Penny seemed able to resist? aaaah, I don't know. Now that the hacking finally happened all the foreshadowing is over, anything could happen.

The worst part of the hack is that it modified Penny's thoughts. It wasn't a complete takeover, like with Pietro, it was a lot more insidious. Literally making true what Cinder told her. Ugh.

Looking back at the screenshots, wow, a lot of the episode was just them fighting, but there were some fun moments, like Maria kicking Neo's ass.

Very curious about where it's going. Both the Penny plot (there's absolutely no way hacked Penny doesn't fight Ruby, there's probably a rule written in the universe about having mind-controlled people fight their loved ones) and the river of Grimm which was an excellent secondary gut punch. Really, loved that reveal. "You thought things were bad? lol"

I think that's all for now, until next time!

[vannahfanfics]

Notice Me, Nejire-chan!

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Natsuo Todoroki, Nejire Hado

And here’s my piece for the Natsuo Big Bang! I hope everyone enjoys!

Natsuo rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heels of his palms, groaning. The aching orbs had begun slurring the words on his computer screen, making the term paper he was attempting to write seem more and more like a painting of incomprehensible smudges. Grinding his hands into his eye sockets did little to ease the burn pulsing through his eyes, so he flopped down on the table with a heavy sigh, opting to close them. The lack of light did seem to help, though starbursts of white danced through the blackness, like his eyes couldn’t seem to adjust to the sudden lack of use. How long had he been at this now— four hours? Six hours? Maybe even eight? Time blurred together during finals; hell, he may have wasted away the whole week and would find himself melded to the cushioned chair when he attempted to get up. 

The air around him hummed with pleasant jazz music and amicable conversation. That’s why he liked coming to the off-campus coffee shop to study and do his assignments; since most college students opted for the library and adjoined coffee shop, the air there was always thick with tension and panic. Here, Natsuo could enjoy a relatively peaceful atmosphere provided by the businessmen on break or the passersby just stopping in for a snack. He visited so often that he knew most of the baristas by name, and they in turn knew his order down to a T, so much so that they began preparing it as soon as he walked in the door. Natsuo knew many of the regulars, too; they often paused by his table to inquire how his classes were going. There was one regular, however, that Natsuo had never spoken to despite seeing often— because she was by far the prettiest young woman he’d ever clapped eyes on, and a pro hero to boot. 

I doubt Nejire-chan has ever even noticed me, he lamented with a groan, turning his face against the side of the table and cracking his eyes open to stare out the window. It was raining, the droplets splatting in thick globs against the pane before his face. It made a waterfall effect on his skin as the light played through the water, like he was floating just beneath the surface of the sea, watching the waves slosh overhead. It reminded him of the heroine’s gorgeous tresses of periwinkle hair, bouncing around her legs as she flounced up to the counter. She’s definitely way out of my league, he smiled ruefully. 

She had yet to stop by today, which was unusual. Perhaps she’d had a busy day, he thought as he rolled his head onto his chin to stare listlessly at his half-typed report displayed on the computer screen. Though he knew that he ought to get back to work, he just couldn’t bring himself to sit up and resume typing at the keys. I can take a little break, he decided when he glanced at the time. There was still plenty of daylight left, so he could spare fifteen minutes. Making up his mind before his better judgment could make him think again, he pushed out of the chair and stood. 

He stretched his arms above his head first, various joints cracking and popping after hours of hunching stiffly at the small table. He groaned in satisfaction as he felt several of his sore vertebrae decompress. He then snatched up the paper cup from the table and drained the last dregs of lukewarm coffee from within as he walked, tossing it in the trash bin as he passed. He would definitely need a refill if he was going to survive the latter half of his report, he thought with a wry smile and pushed open the glass door. The bell tinkled a pleasant farewell as he passed through the threshold. He didn’t go far, however, just meandered a few feet down the sidewalk and breathing in the fresh scent of the falling rain.  

The rain thumped against the cloth veranda over his head to fill the air with a consistent drumming. The droplets pooled in the fabric until it spilled over the edges, cascading in thick streams like a waterfall. Natsuo reached out, catching the water on his fingers. It was cool to the touch, and he turned his hand over to watch how it spilled over the top of his hands. The drops coalesced into thick beads on his fingers, wobbling for a microsecond before their weight and gravity set them plunking down into the puddle below with loud plips. He found a small smile playing over his lips as he just enjoyed the echo of the rain around him, enclosing him in a bubble; no assignments, no grades, just the wonder of the natural world. 

The bubble shattered when he felt the cold blade of a knife press against his throat. Natsuo froze, fear freezing his blood to ice. He slowly slid his gaze to his peripherals to see a hooded man holding the knife to his throat, dark green eyes glinting in the shadows playing over his gaunt face. Natsuo’s terror heightened when he realized that the man wasn’t holding the knife, but it was actually a Quirk that allowed him to spring the six-inch blade from the meat of his arm. 

“Give me all the money you have. Now!” the mugger demanded. Natsuo slowly eased his arms up in surrender, trying not to let the panic show on his expression. It was moments like this that made him wish he had a powerful Quirk like his parents or his brothers, even if that would have subjected him to the hellacious training regimens they were forced to perform as children. 

“Look, man, I don’t have any money,” he explained in a calm, quiet voice. “I’m a poor college kid, okay? I don’t have anything to steal; just get on your way and I’ll pretend this never happened.” 

“You think I’m fallin’ for that shit?” the man snapped, and Natsuo inhaled sharply as the blade was pressed harder into the soft skin of his throat. The pointed tip pierced the flesh, causing a bead of red blood to balloon up and then trickle down his neck. Natsuo’s throat bobbed as he struggled to control his breathing, the blood meandering down the plane of his throat before hitting the collar of his tee-shirt, dyeing the white fabric crimson. “Gimme all your money, punk! I don’t care— cash, credit cards, everything you got!” 

Natsuo nodded as much as the knife would allow, then gradually eased one arm behind his back to retrieve his wallet from his back pocket. The man’s eyes were feral as he watched him like a hawk, cautious of any sudden moves from Natsuo. The college student gave him a placating look as he brought the wallet around from his back, letting it flop open to show there wasn’t anything dangerous inside. 

“All right, hurry up! I ain’t got all fuckin’ day!” the man demanded with a wild look around. Natsuo had made the mistake of standing under the corner of the veranda, just out of sight through the wide window that spanned the front of the coffee shop. With a dreadful rainy day like this, the shop had received little foot traffic, so it was also unlikely that a bystander would come to Natsuo’s rescue. Resigning himself to the fact that he was going to be robbed, Natsuo slowly began fishing bills out of his wallet. The mugger reached over with his free hand to snatch them up, inspecting them with a scowl. 

“Are you serious? Is this all you fucking have?” 

“I told you, man, I’m flat broke!” Natsuo cried, growing irritated with the man’s persistence. He then released a strangled gasp when the man jammed the knife slightly into his throat again, this time hard enough to make a one-inch nick across the column of his throat. Natsuo’s eyes widened as he felt the hot, sticky blood leak down over his skin and pool against the part of his shirt resting over his collarbone. 

“Don’t get smart with me, asshole, unless you want to find yourself choking on your own blood!” 

“Okay, okay!” Natsuo said, flinging the rest of the yen bills at him. “Just take it and leave me alone, man!” His attitude was getting the better of him, and unfortunately, the mugger did not appreciate it. He bowed up on Natsuo, eyes flaring ferociously, and the college student gulped. Crap, I shouldn’t have done that…! Before the mugger could decide if he was going to act on his rage, however, a sing-song voice piped up from behind him. 

“Now, that isn’t very nice. Stealing is wrong to begin with, but stealing from somebody who doesn’t have much in the first place? That’s just a bit cruel, don’t you think?” 

Wait, I recognize that voice! Natsuo thought, his heart stuttering— but it wasn’t just from relief. 

He pushed up onto his tiptoes to peer over the mugger’s shoulder, and sure enough, there she was. Nejire-chan stood at the edge of the veranda with her hands on her hips and a sultry pout on her face, which made her look more cute than threatening. Two thick strands of her hair were styled into curvy shapes on her head, but they were wilting a little, as they were soaked with rain. In fact, the entirety of the hero was dripping wet; her periwinkle hair flopped loosely against her legs and the spandex of her suit gleamed with the sheen of water gripping to the smooth, rubbery fabric. Her cheeks were ruddy both with anger and a slight bit of chill. Despite that, Natsuo felt his heart thump as a dreamy feeling came over him. She’s so pretty… 

“Uwah! A pro hero?” the mugger growled, whipping the knife away from Natsuo’s neck to focus on the pretty girl. When he pointed it threateningly at her, she just cocked an eyebrow. Then, she stuck out her hands, and two swirling beams of light shot from her palms. The mugger yelped as they zapped him, making him retract the knife back into his arm. Nejire skipped daintily over to him as he twitched in shock, then bopped him on the top of his head with her fist. She must have hit a pressure point or something, because he crumpled to a heap immediately. 

“That takes care of that!” she chirped and dusted off her hands. She then smiled serenely at Natsuo. As his heart went into arrhythmia, he felt his head grow cottony and fuzzy and his tongue become heavy. “Are you all right, mister?” Because he couldn’t speak, or at least didn’t think he could, he just nodded dumbly. “I’m glad! I’m sorry this meanie here ruined your study break,” she huffed and nudged the unconscious man with a frown. Natsuo’s heart fluttered again, his eyes widening with delight. 

“You, er… You, um… recognized me?” 

“Yeah!” she beamed while flipping out her phone to call the authorities. She picked them from the speed-dial and nestled her phone against her ear while continuing, “I see you at this coffee shop all the time studying! You work really hard, clearly,” she said, and Natsuo’s cheeks turned  a bright shade of crimson. While Nejire-chan turned to the side to talk to the police, Natsuo clutched at his heart, a little worried he was having a heart attack from sheer happiness. 

So she has noticed me after all…! 

It didn’t take long for Nejire-chan to report the mugger. She planted her foot into the middle of his back, pressing him into the sidewalk, and gave Natsuo a reassuring grin. 

“The police are on their way!” Natsuo could already hear the sirens wailing in the distance, steadily growing louder with each passing second. “You don’t have to worry about him, so you can go ahead and get back to studying, okay?” 

Natsuo wrung his hands and swallowed thickly. Sure, he had a report to write, but to hell with that! The prettiest girl he’d ever seen was standing right in front of him, talking to him— no way he could pass that up! As he fidgeted nervously, working up the courage to say something, Nejire-chan cocked her head to the side to peer curiously at him. “What is it? There’s no need to thank me, you know! It’s all in a day’s work for me!” 

“Y-yeah, but,” he said shyly, rubbing at the back of his neck as he struggled to string words together into a coherent sentence. “Even still, I would like to buy you a coffee, Nejire-chan,” he said with a small, bashful smile. The hero blinked, a tinge of pink rising to her cheeks. “Not only did you save me, but you look like you need it,” he said with a gesture to her sopping-wet form. “You look like you worked really hard today. Please, let me treat you to something, even if it’s just something as small as a hot coffee.” 

Nejire’s smile turned shy too, and she clasped her hands behind her back, slowly turning from side to side. 

“Well,” she started, her cheeks turned even darker as she averted her gaze to her boots. “A coffee does sound really nice… I’d love to take you up on that offer, Mister…?” 

“Natsuo,” he said. “Natsuo Todoroki.” 

“Ah!” she cried with a clap of her hands, her eyes sparkling in recognition. “Do you happen to be Shoto’s big brother?” 

“That’s right.” 

“What a small world! I’m in your debt, Natsuo.” 

While Nejire gave an official report to the police, which had just rolled onto the scene with their lights flashing red and blue, Natsuo walked back into the coffee shop equipped with Nejire-chan’s order and his stolen cash. The patrons of the coffee shop ogled curiously at the man being loaded into the back of the squad car, apparently having no clue that Natsuo had been involved in a hold-up. By the time he was walking back to his table with a fresh coffee for himself and a hot chocolate for Nejire-chan, the squad cars were pulling away and the hero was flouncing into the coffee shop. 

“Thank you so much!” she smiled as she slid into the seat opposite him, taking the hot chocolate with two hands. She brought it to her mouth and took a sip. Her eyelashes fluttered and she hummed reverently, sinking into her seat while cherishing the warmth that flooded through her body. “Ahh… That hits the spot.” Natsuo chuckled at her adorably childish display while closing his laptop, knowing full well that he would not be typing a damn word as the beautiful young woman sat across from him. 

“I’m glad. You looked like you had a rough day, Nejire-chan.” 

“Just Nejire is fine,” she corrected, and Natsuo’s heart stuttered in his chest. “And it was busy,” she acknowledged with a little pout. “You’d think with the rain that criminals would take a day off, but it seems like they just got more motivated! I don’t think ‘saving it for a rainy day’ should apply to lockpicks and crowbars!” Natsuo laughed at that, leaning a cheek in his hand as he reclined on the table, eagerly listening to her. Nejire’s eyelashes fluttered while she sipped daintily at her hot chocolate again. Her cheeks were shining pink, but whether it was from the heat or his presence, he wasn’t sure. He hoped it was the latter. 

“What are you studying?” she asked. 

“Medical welfare,” he answered, tapping the textbook sitting beside him on the table. 

“Oh, so you’re studying to be a hero in your own way,” Nejire giggled. 

“I suppose you could put it that way,” he laughed while rubbing the back of his neck again, admittedly embarrassed by the analogy. It wasn’t untrue, however; Natsuo wanted to help people, just like heroes did. Nejire hummed and leaned into the table, tracing abstract patterns into the wood while she gazed at him admiringly. Somehow that bolstered his courage. He took a deep breath and looked at her, expression going serious all of a sudden. 

“You know,” he started, trying not to be unnerved by the way her eyebrow crept up her forehead. “I’ve noticed you in here before too, Nejire.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course. How could I not? I mean, you’re a pro hero, and not to mention drop-dead gorgeous.” Nejire flushed at that, shyly squirming in her seat as a smile played over her lips. Natsuo nervously twiddled his thumbs, but he’d already started, so he might as well finish. “This may be a bit forward of me, Nejire, but… I think you’re really pretty and I would love to take you out on a date sometime. I-I-If you’re not taken, of course!” he added quickly, holding his hands up. “M-maybe I should have asked first, I mean, I’m sure a pretty girl like you gets lots of attention, and it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re already involved with somebody… I-if that’s true, no hard feelings, of course—!” 

“Natsuo,” she interrupted, making him stop short in his embarrassed tirade. He gaped at her, cheeks shining pink, eyes wide, and his mouth hanging open dumbly as he waited for her to continue. A coy smile curved over her pink plump lips and she said, “I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“Oh,” he blinked, followed by a relieved, “Oh.” He sunk back into his seat, running a hand through his fluffy snow-white hair. His fingertips came off slickened with a bit of nervous sweat, which he hurriedly wiped off onto his slacks before Nejire could notice. “Then, um… Could I… Could I take you out to dinner sometime?” 

“Sure,” she smiled happily, and Natsuo swore that smile alone banished the rain and sent the sunlight pouring down from the sky. “How about tonight?” 

“T-tonight?”

“Sure?” she shrugged. “Why wait?” Throughout the conversation, she had finished her hot chocolate and he hadn’t noticed. She slid it to the side as she rose. “How about 7 o’clock? You finish typing up whatever you were working on, and I’ll meet you here, okay?” she smiled, then cheekily reached over to playfully pinch his cheek. “If that’s okay with you, loverboy.” 

Natsuo’s heart flip-flopped at the pet name, and he just slowly nodded, mouth hanging open like he was a fish gasping for breath. 

“All right, then. Toodle-oo,” she giggled while waving her fingers at him. He leaned sideways in his chair to watch her twirl on her heel and leave, a definite extra sashay in her hips that made his eyebrows creep up his forehead and his cheeks darken. The door’s little bell twinkled farewell, and then she was gone, disappearing into the drizzling rain. He stared at the door for a moment, wondering if he’d fallen asleep at the table and strayed into a dream. His eyes slid to the empty paper cup sitting at the end of the table, and he decided that no, it couldn’t have been a dream. 

“Well then,” he sighed with a smile and opened his laptop back up, “I’d better get started.” He cracked his knuckles, then rested his hands back on the keyboard. “I wouldn’t want to keep Nejire waiting, after all.” 

It was the opportunity of a lifetime, a date he had been dreaming of, and Natsuo sure wasn’t going to let procrastination get in his way. Smiling, he got back to work on his paper, anticipation brewing in his gut like warm coffee for the wonderful evening to come.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[itsclydebitches]

So I'm curious what are some character designs you love? Not from RWBY, but just i general. I'm the same anon who got you to check out Berserk and I'd say essentially all of the designs are done damn well. Fit the character. Changes that makes sense for growth. Also make sense given the setting. Even women in armor that doesn't have those massive boob plates. Good designs impact so much subconsciously to have much we enjoy other aspects of a story.

Congratulations! You’ve unlocked my never-ending need to praise Yu Yu Hakusho! :D 

This long, picture-laden post needs two disclaimers going forward: 

I’m not an artist. In the sense that I’m not a visual artist who knows anything about what makes character design good from a technical/community approved standpoint. This is purely based on my own, personal reaction to a beloved series. 

Connected to that, I’m going into this under the assumption that people might really disagree with me (?). Based on the cartoons and anime that I see praised for character design, I don’t think YYH fits whatever list more knowledgeable viewers are pulling from. But I’m gonna lay out my thinking anyway! 

Major spoilers for Yu Yu Hakusho below. 

Alright let’s do this. 

First off, when people start talking character design they often reference how cool a character is. Which makes sense. You want a character to be visually engaging and distinct. Something that makes you go “Wow!” whenever you look at them. However, one of the things I love about the YYH cast is how normal they are. Because they’re supposed to be normal. The trope of the main character having a crazy hair color has become so prominent that we’ve got memes about it now and that works for a lot of stories. You know who is important because, despite the assumption that they’re average people not dying their hair, they stick out like a sore thumb among the rest of the cast. 

However, normalcy is a really important part of YYH. The entire point at the start is that Yusuke is not special. He’s not unique. He’s a delinquent kid who most assume isn’t going anywhere in life. When he dies this doesn’t unlock some Super Special Backstory - you were innately amazing all along! - he just gets caught up in the plot because of a paperwork issue. The afterlife doesn’t know what to do with an asshole kid who unexpectedly saved another kid’s life so they just kind of... shuffle him around until he’s given another chance to live. Then he gets to pay back that second chance by becoming a Spirit Detective. Yeah, Yusuke is talented when it comes to fighting and spirit energy, but at the start that’s rarely emphasized outside of “He’s the best street fighter among no-name street fighters so really, it’s not impressive once you take Yusuke out of his tiny world of school parking lots and the occasional alleyway.” The takeaway is that he’s a dime-a-dozen troubled teen who got involved in the spirit world due to an impulsive act and a bunch of bureaucracy. Indeed, it’s a HUGE moment of emotional growth for Yusuke to realize that people do love him despite his supposedly average, unremarkable, and otherwise negative personality. His normal-ness - and others’ expectation that he could someday make himself great if he learns to work at it - is crucial to where Yusuke starts out. Making him visually distinct in terms of Anime Protagonist Looks would undermine a lot of that. This isn’t supposed to be a Super Special Kid Destined For Greatness. He’s just... a kid. A normal kid. A kid who has to work and learn and grow if he wants to make something of himself. So he gets black hair, brown yes, and a green school uniform. He’s pretty damn average looking. 

Same with Kuwabara. Same with Keiko. Same with Atsuko. They’re just normal people going about their lives and I always appreciated that they looked the part. You can still easily tell them apart thanks to different hair colors, texture, jaw lines, and outfits, but none of them seem out of place in the average world they start out in. Which, as said, is crucial to a lot of YYH’s themes. The ones who look more visually distinct - Hiei and Botan - aren’t human. It makes sense that they wouldn’t obey these same average laws of the rest of the cast and they are our first taste of a world that, in terms of character design, will eventually get pretty wonderfully weird. They function as stepping stones. 

This eventually becomes a story about the demon world and those demons wouldn’t come across as particularly scary/other if you begin the story with equally strange looking humans. Or even just “I don’t see people who look like that walking down the street” humans. Alongside many themes, there’s a contrast at work here. Yusuke stepping out into a stadium full of demons who despise him because of his species hits home when he is so clearly distinct from them. Suddenly, his normal is abnormal. 

Once the ball gets rolling, Yusuke’s looks are constantly in contrast with both his environment and his inner self. He looks like a scary thug but then unexpectedly saves a life. He looks like an average human but is actually the strongest among a group of scary-looking demons. He looks like this badass spirit detective who everyone assumes with have an equally badass spirit beast but, uh... 

Oh my god that’s a precious baby. By the time our cast is family and everyone accepts that Yusuke looks scarier than he actually is or ever was - once the core group is made up of not just humans but demon loving humans who are equally soft - we turn it all on its head again and reveal that Yusuke has demon blood. For the first time he looks as strange and powerful as he is. Yusuke’s normality is done away with the second he’s fully accepted his place in these worlds, throwing everything back into chaos. 

Yusuke’s demon form becomes even more foreign looking  when he’s being controlled by his ancestral father. The above is a Yusuke who is still Yusuke and in many respects the design reflects that: natural hair color, human body, tattoos easily covered up with a shirt. When he’s gone full Mazoku though, something dangerous, the white, wilder hair and change to his expressions ensure we read him as something feral. For the first time in the series Yusuke is truly the dangerous creature he’s pretended to be since his principal was running after him at school. 

As a side-note about character costumes, we see this emphasis on normality in their outfits as well. Obviously a story like RWBY is limited by how much time/money they have for animation, but it nevertheless has an impact to see the group almost constantly in their battle gear. They’re never not the main characters of an action-fantasy show, not even while just out around town with no expectation of entering a fight.  

In contrast, Yusuke and Kuwabara are often animated in everyday clothing that remind us that they’re really just teens trying to live their lives outside of this crazy nonsense. Kuwabara wasn’t even formally hired for all this! The cast wears sweaters and jackets while out and about. More formal clothes for special occasions. Jeans and t-shirts when they’re unexpectedly caught up in a fight because, you know, they’re not ready for battle every second of every day. They’re drawn like normal folks because, outside of the ring, they are. 

(We’ve also got a lot of parallels between Yusuke and Kuwabara’s civilian clothing, visually reminding us that they’re far more alike than they might be willing to admit.)

Despite often changing outfits, the group maintains a basic color pallet that makes them recognizable, yet it’s also not so limited that they appear strange for sticking to one (1) color for the entire time we know them. Yusuke, like most people, is drawn to particular colors, mostly greens, yellows, and blues, so each time we see him he’s familiar while also being distinct from the last time he changed. 

Hiei, as someone who initially wants nothing to do with anyone else and relies on assassin-like speed to take out his enemies, is dressed almost entirely in black. Without that bit of white in his scarf/hair you’d lose him in the shadows... which is the point. 

When he opens up and actually becomes friends with the team, his color pallet starts opening up a great deal too.  

And we’re shown all the little changes he starts incorporating that speak to his growth: his Jagan eye, a bandaged arm hiding his Dragon of the Darkness Flame, the necklace connecting him to Yukina. 

I’ve blathered on about the outfits enough but as a quick final note: EVERYONE WEARS APPROPRIATE FIGHTING CLOTHES. 

No one (even the women to my recollection) wear heels. Everything is loose-fitted and looks easy to move in. They’ve got sensible belts, bandages if they need them, and... that’s it. No unnecessary bells and whistles that distract from what’s supposed to be the story’s real draw: good fights and good characterization. Even the more elaborately styled characters (usually) look like they chose their outfits practically first and for the aesthetic after. At no point do I recall watching this show and going, “WHY would you wear that to a fight??” 

Anyway, back to the designs. 

The exceptions to either side of these extremes - from human normal to demon monstrous - are Genkai and Kurama, both of whom straddle the line. Genkai is someone who has pushed her spirit and body far past the norm. She’s the first human we meet who truly goes beyond that normality, even if you don’t immediately realize it. Her pink hair (such a soft color in her old age it’s not at all distracting) is a slight hint that something isn’t quite right with her. She’s obviously human... but not a normal human. Not anymore. 

Those unnatural looks are emphasized in her youth when she was at the height of her power. 

Genkai as a young woman has vibrantly pink hair (a bright pastel like Botan’s), a softer face, and far more emotive eyes. She looks ethereal, which fits not just her own journey to power but Togoru’s as well. Her story is intimately tied up in what that power does to the human body/soul. So Toguro starts out like this 

a pretty normal looking guy who is on the far end of what the human body is naturally capable of. He’s buff as hell, but not so much that it looks unreasonable. I’ve seen body builders bigger than him. He’s the average (dehydrated...) MCU superhero. However, he ends up like this

In Togoru’s case his abnormality is explicitly presented as grotesque. Rather than giving him a cool looking characteristic that’s clearly supernatural (blue hair, an extra eye, curly horns, etc.), we’ve taken a human characteristic (muscles) and expanded them to an unnatural degree. He’s got some uncanny valley shit going on. 

Paralleling Genkai, we likewise see Kurama subtly standing out among his human allies. 

He’s a demon in a human’s body. By in-world logic his appearance should be just as normal as anyone else’s, but a bit of his true nature shines through. His hair is long in a style not popular in YYH’s Japan. His red is far less of a natural shade than Kuwabara’s. He carries himself with the air of someone who is ancient, because he is. His human design deliberately reflects his true demon form so when that’s finally revealed we still recognize him as Kurama. 

(Same sort of work with Hiei’s demon form.) 

When we look at the cast together we have an immediate, visual impression as to who is normal and who is not - and those assumptions are embedded into the story. Yusuke is someone you’d overlook in the crowd, but he’s the most powerful. Kurama is clearly other in some way, but he’s desperate to live an average, human life. Kuwabara is designed to look and move like the fool and a lot of his development (his and others’ in relation to him, really. Like Hiei) is built around respecting him despite those looks. Hiei is tiny but will kick your ass. Genkai is tinier and will kick your ass worse. 

Her size combined with her age - combined with her status as Yusuke’s teacher - is a continuous reminder not to judge power by looks alone. Don’t underestimate your opponent and get overconfident (a major flaw of Yusuke’s). Know that you still have a LOT to learn about the world. That woman you assume is just a rude grandma? She’s going to break your expectations over and over and over again. 

Speaking of size, that’s a major aspect of Koenma’s design as well. When Yusuke learns he’s meeting the head of the underworld he starts picturing a massive, demonic beast who (sensing a theme here) looks the part of a supernatural ruler. Seeing Koenma for the first time - an adorable toddler-like being - is an absolute shock. 

It’s a gag for the audience, but it’s not just a gag. Due to his looks Yusuke is unable to take Koenma seriously, despite knowing the power he holds. 

Which, even more-so than arrogance, is Yusuke’s greatest flaw throughout the series. He doesn’t take school seriously. His death seriously. Ruler of the underworld seriously. His teacher seriously, etc. Yusuke constantly acts like he doesn’t care, throwing basic respect and effort in the face of whatever authority figure is desperately trying to keep him from self-destructing. He’s on the receiving end of multiple speeches throughout the series (mostly from Genkai) that boil down to, “Care about something, dammit. Take this seriously!” and when he does it’s GREAT. It’s a moment of growth we’ve really built to in a hundred different ways, including how he reacts to others’ looks. Koenma’s design feeds directly into the primary flaw Yusuke is working to overcome. How will he go from a delinquent laughing in the face of the most powerful being to someone multiple worlds can put their trust in? Design assists with that. 

When Yusuke does respect Koenma (even if he still insults/teases him because that’s just an ingrained part of Yusuke’s personality) Koenma’s appearance can change. It’s no longer serving its original function, so he evolves into a very good looking young man (with references to Tuxedo Mask to emphasize those good looks) that just... happens to still carry a pacifier. 

A pacifier that is revealed as an incredibly powerful weapon that will help save the world. Again: don’t judge anyone or anything solely on their looks. They’re never precisely what you’d assume they are based on your first glance - with the exception of minor villains whose looks serve only to convey their villainy: 

For everyone else, looks are complex. Two of the most different looking characters (color-wise anyway) are actually siblings, their contrasts reflecting both differing cultures and the emotional distance between them. 

The scariest looking monsters are just paper-pushers. It’s the handsome humans you should watch out for.  

And this is our hero, a man charged with protecting three worlds. 

I could say SO MUCH MORE but this is already disgustingly long so basically YYH (I think) does a great job of: 

Crafting characters that are distinct but not different for the sake of different. They always feel like they belong to their individual worlds and adhere to whatever “normal” is by those standards. 

Tying character looks really closely to the show’s themes and individual growth. Which, frankly, is something I think all good character design should do. 

It’s not nearly as flashy as other anime... but YYH knows what it wants to accomplish and went about it beautifully. Catch me still weeping over this show fifty years from now. 

Peace ✌️

[ticklish-touch]

I’m With You in the Dark

Last year, I made a poll seeing who would be interested in reading a story about my tickle monster Rags meeting my favorite character in Deltarune, Jevil. Even though I got a very positive response overall, I... chickened out. :’D I've always felt very self-conscious about writing fanfics, especially ones involving my OCs with canon characters. I grew up with other weeb friends who thought fanfic in general was very cringey and taboo. But at the end of the day, as long as people aren't writing about shipping real-life people or kink shit with minors, they have the freedom to write what they want if it helps them express themselves. Ever since last year, Jevil has become a very important character to me. There are hundreds of wonderful creative interpretations of him and his possible backstory; and, as someone who has depersonalization spells, existential thoughts about reality & the universe, enjoys making other people laugh even at my own expense, and a chaotic inner voice that constantly tells me "AREN'T YOU TIRED OF BEING NICE, DON'T YOU JUST WANNA GO APESHIT??" this little gremlin has become a comfort character; one that I also highly enjoy cosplaying. And, frankly, what better year to post a story about nihilism than 2020?  👍   So, this is just a "what-if" scenario, if someone else besides Gaster with some degree of omniscience was able to show the poor jester that there's more to life than just waiting for the Void to take over. And if anyone takes anything away from this, I just want it to be the hope that things will get better. You are allowed to be hopeful, and happy, and make positive connections with people even if you've had harmful experiences with people over past mistakes from either side. We're in this together; you aren't always going to be alone, your suffering won't be in vain. This, too, shall pass. So please, stay determined. Happy Halloween, everyone!!  🎃 🦇 👻 🤡 Story below the cut!

       The mischievous Nightmare felt a peculiar pull at his mind as he lurked through the foggy darkness in search of another playmate: A chaotic soul resonating with nearly as much feral playfulness and craving for laughter as his own. But there was something...Off. This mind, this essence, was splintered and broken, re-mended into something different... A shadow of its former self. Joy and mischief and enthusiasm for the world, replaced by existential dread and loneliness...

         The silent cry for help brought Ragaeli to a reality he'd never been in: One of the many infinite parallel dimensions to Earth that existed in the endless void of spacetime. At a brief glance, he could see there was a race called Darkners. They seemed to be the joy of childlike imagination brought to life; living, breathing checker and chess pieces, puzzle pieces, stuffed toys and squeaky mallets and lego blocks.

         And, within a card castle not unlike the story of Alice in Wonderland, deep within a huge cell locked by powerful magic, a rotund little jester with a black and purple wardrobe was bouncing about, creating myriads of dazzling diamonds, spades, hearts and clovers. He appeared to be an imp with a J-shaped tail, a round noseless face, pointy ears, deep black pits for eyes and serrated, lemon-yellow teeth stretched into a smile as he laughed gleefully to himself.

        The Nightmare split open a doorway of crackling energy, leaping through, landing on the indigo striped ground with a THUD. The floor was very plush and unsteady, like the inflated floor of a bouncy castle. "Weellll now, it sure seems like a party in here~ But what kind of party only has one guest, hmm?"

        Immediately, the small jester jumped, his head launching out on a spring coil like a Jack-in-the-box. "AIYEEE-!! What, what?! Who are you? Did...Did you escape too??" He glided over to the tall figure, eyeing him over. At first, his lips twitched and seemed as if they were going to form into a frown. But instead he responded with a forced grin. "Uee-hee hee, I see, I see... It seems they've finally replaced little old me~!" He bounced up on his tail to flick playfully at Ragaeli's chest bells, spiraling around him to tug at his flaps, hair and spandex. "Hmmm, not bad~ And you can't go wrong with being a stripey lad; I guess the Kings have some taste after all! But where is your hat?? A jester with no hat is like a witch without their cat!" He glided around behind Ragaeli and his eyes widened. "A hand on your tail?? Now that's just excessive!!"          "I must say your rhyme scheme is really quite impressive~" Ragaeli giggled, his head turned 180 degrees to look down at the jester.          Jevil couldn't help but giggle too. "Uee hee hee, why thank you, thank you~!" He hovered upside-down in front of the larger monster, summoning a deck of cards, shuffling them up. "The tales must be true, that each suit has two. A black and a red...I always assumed the other must just be dead!!" He snickered, making the cards disappear up his sleeve, then turned back upright, folding his arms, his purple tail lashing about behind him like an agitated cat, his tone twinged with jealousy. "Well since they've decided that red suits their court more, you'd better not be a bore! To replace me is to replace the wittiest of all the players in this castle full of nay-sayers!"

         "Hehehe, now, don't get your tail in a twist, I'm no replacement," Ragaeli playfully flicked one of Jevil's bells. "Name's Ragaeli, but you can call me Rags, Ragdoll, Ragtime, Rag-Tag, just don't call me boring, heheh~ I'm not even from this world, you see. Would you believe me when I say there are other worlds out there? Other dimensions?"          Jevil giggled at all the nicknames, then his face lit up, his annoyance quickly shifting to curiosity. "Oh yes, yes, I know it to be true!! He chuckled. "Your world, it is a game too? Or is it more "real" than what we can perceive?"          Ragaeli raised an eyebrow. "A game, hmm? I suppose you can say that," He smirked. "My world is, in a sense, "Not real" as well. Not to the people of Earth anyways. It's thanks to their thoughts and emotions, their hopeful desires in the depths of their darkest thoughts, that I exist at all. And because of that," His grin turned devilish and he rapped his fingers together in a comically villainous fashion. "I can appear to any of them that I want. I can play all kinds of games with them~ I have no limits to what I can do in my realm, and Earth itself is my playground, a game that will never end~"

         The jester listened with fascination, then cackled again, seeming elated as he bounced around in midair. "Oh I'm SO happy!! Someone else finally sees!! There is another who's been set free!!" Then his giddy tone turned to a snarl. "THEY didn't believe me!! THEY were all blind, blind!!" Magic energy crackled around him. "I ONLY wanted to HELP them!! I only wanted them to be privy to the danger, danger they would face if they didn't try to free themselves of this pointless rat race!!"         Ragaeli's brow furrowed. "Who's them? Who put you in here? A jolly little hellion like you shouldn't be locked away like this, 'specially if you think your castle's in danger."        Jevil quickly shook his head, puffing his chest out indignantly. "It is not I that has been locked away! They chose their own prison, they dug their own graves! The court wouldn't listen, they didn't want to play, and now for their bullheadedness THEY'RE the ones having to pay!!"

        The Nightmare latched onto the images flashing through Jevil's mind, learning bits and pieces about the royal court that ruled the dark castle. It definitely appeared that things were in disarray, and the court jester's loneliness bubbled into a well of resentment...         The continued rush of memories manifested into the image of a strange entity that came to the jester before his imprisonment: A ghostly creature, cloaked in inky blackness, with large round holes in his skeletal hands and a twisted grin frozen on his skull-like head, a single white pupil glowing out from the cracked eyesockets with a sickly light. Even the Nightmare, who had seen every hellish iteration of fear and hatred, knew that this...thing, was bad news. He existed, yet was nonexistant. He was fractured across all of time and space, yet remained trapped unmoving inside the Void. He was filled with hopelessness, bitterness, egoism, an unyielding ambition to drag anything and everything down into the same all-consuming darkness. An unfortunate victim of his own hubris, now a sociopath with cold disregard for individual worth except the desire to dissect everything and everyone he could latch onto. And it happened that Jevil, who craved mischief and adventure and purpose in his seemingly small role in the kingdom, was the latest test subject.         Ragaeli's hair stood up on end and a low, near demonic growl rumbled in his throat. "And what, exactly, did this thing show you?"         The growl made Jevil gasp, stopping him in his tracks, looking up at the large entity with trepidation. "H-He showed me everything, everything!! He showed me the beginning, the end of all things, he showed me the truth of this world and all worlds in the cosmos, that nothing is as it seems, nothing means anything, but because anything can be nothing, nothing can be everything--"          "Alright, enough, I'm stopping you right there, Lovecraft," In a swift movement, he tugged the rim of Jevil's hat over his face.         "YEEE- H-HEY!!" The frazzled jester fixed his hat, puffing his cheeks out at Ragaeli, his tail whipping about even more wildly.          "Whoever this Wing-dinged handy-man is sure isn't very handy if all he can do is fill your head with nihilistic nonsense," Ragaeli stuck out his tongue. "Sounds like someone who had a rotten time of it is now trying to ruin everyone else's fun."         "No, no, not at all!!" Jevil leapt on top of Ragaeli's head and perched like a cat. "Because of him, I can have more fun than I ever thought possible!! You'll see, you'll see!! They're bringing back the key!!" He giggled madly. "Three visitors, all questing in vain to bring an end to a game that doesn't matter, and once I am back inside their world of lies I will spread my truth everywhere and everyone will thank me!!" He cackled. "But first I should thank you for keeping me company~" He leapt off and glided in front of the Nightmare. From the center of his dark eyes, yellow irises began to glow brightly. "It's been so long since someone has lent an ear, so I'll show you my favorite game~"  In a flash, he launched a glowing diamond, sharp as a sword, at the speed of a flying bullet into Ragaeli's stomach.

         But the diamond disappeared on contact. Instead of yelping in pain, Ragaeli shrieked and doubled over as the energy shot a ticklish burst through him. "GYEEEE-HEEHEE!!"         Jevil looked baffled. "...What, what?? Laughter?" He tilted his head, summoning a spinning barrage of clubs that shot at Ragaeli's legs, chest and sides like machine gun ammunition.         And again, the Nightmare was bombarded with a barrage of ticklish electricity, causing him to crumple on the plush floor with cackling laughter. "AIYEEE-HAHAHAHA!!" After the sensation wore off, he continued to let out giddy laughter as he saw Jevil's incredulous expression. "WHOOO-WEE, now that was a good one!!"          Jevil couldn't help but snort back his own laughter at the Nightmare's comical reactions, but he seemed even more puzzled. "Is someone ticklish, ticklish? That isn't how I'm trying to play, but it makes things interesting, needless to say~" He giggled a bit. "But then...How am I supposed to play my game if you've got no numbers to claim??"          Ragaeli shook his head, jumping up into the air to recline as if laying back on a sofa. "You silly little imp, do you really think that's the only way to play with others? Taking this "HP" until they're gone for good? What would you do then when there's no-one left to have fun with?" He gave a pout.         Jevil shook his head quickly. "No no, they're not really gone!! Weren't you listening, listening?? It's all a game!! They can come back!! Losing is just a minor setback~!"

         The Nightmare raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know that?"         "Because the Stranger showed me!! He can mess with the code, he can change--"         "How do YOU know that?" Ragaeli barked. "Forget about him, can YOU bring them back??"         Jevil shrugged. "Perhaps, perhaps not, but if they lose then that's just how it goes~ Such is the way of this game we all play!"         The Nightmare rolled his eyes. "So... you wanna play by the game's rules, huh? How boring."

        The jester's malicious snickering immediately stopped, and he stiffened up.          Ragaeli narrowed his gaze, prying at the jester's mind a bit more. "What is it you've said? You can do anything? So why not shake it up and take this game into your own hands? If you're really free, then PROVE it!"

        For once, the manic jester took pause.

        "Think about what it is YOU want in this game we all call life!"

         Jevil lifted a gloved finger, unable to answer at first. Then his bright yellow irises faded again. "What I want...?" He lowered his head. "What I want..." A quiet giggle bubbled up from inside him. "I just want them to be free, free with me..." He hovered higher, seeming to vibrate with an intense magical aura, and raised his arms. The room began to spin around the central pole, as if it were revolving around the world's axis. "To break their cage and create a NEW stage, where everyone can play, play to their heart's content!! Free from this kingdom of rules and lies!!" He snarled. "I want them to PAY for making me play in my freedom all alone, every night and every day!!" He bellowed. Carnival music began to emanate from all around them, starting quiet then gaining in tempo. "I want them to say, "To HELL with rules, I will break these chains and embrace the chaos, CHAOS!!" He laughed maniacally, and from every curve of the rounded ceiling, more of his symbols appeared; Hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs, all aimed at Ragaeli, launching toward him like speeding bullets.          The Nightmare answered with his own giddy laugh. "Ohhh, how interesting! Well then, let's play for a while and I might just help you make your wish come true~!" He nonchalantly bounded away from the trajectory of the magic, dodging, swooping, teleporting and even dancing and pirouetting away. Occasionally they would hit, and once again he would shriek in surprise and burst into laughter. "GYAAAH-HAHAHAHA!!"          Jevil giggled, no longer bothered that his attacks weren't causing any 'HP' damage. "I wonder; How long will it take before you finally break~?"          The Nightmare smirked dangerously. "I could ask you the same thing!" His hair suddenly jumped to life, tendrils leaping forward and bombarding the jester's chubby belly, sending electric pulses of ticklishness through him.

         "UEEEE-HEE-HEEEE!!" Jevil shrieked with laughter and flailed for a moment before poofing himself to the other side of the room. A bright purple blush filled his cheeks and he clutched his belly, gawking at Ragaeli. "N...NO FAIR, NO FAIR!! IT WASN'T YOUR TURN YET!!"          Ragaeli giggled. "You really think a tickle monster is gonna play fair? Now what's the fun in that~?"          Jevil huffed and his pout shifted to a malicious grin. "Uee hee hee; Fine, fine, I also won't play fair!! Let's see you laugh about THIS!" With a flash, he summoned a large ornate striped sickle, teleporting close and taking a swift swing at Ragaeli, catching him in the middle of the striped pattern on his leotard.          The Nightmare's torso came clean off his legs, not with any blood or guts but with a cartoonish POP. "WHOA!! Caught me off guard with that one, took my top clean off ya did!!" His tone went cockney, and he grabbed his legs and re-attached them as if he'd been de-pantsed.

         Jevil balked, then doubled over backwards with laughter. "HYEE-HEEHEE HAHAHAH Oh my stahahars, you're a fun one, you are!!" His scythe disappeared with a flash, a new wave of glee bubbling up in him. "You really are like me!! Your body cannot be killed!! That means you can stay here and play as long as we want!! I'm so THRILLED!!" He laughed with jubilation and raised his arms, and from the walls emerged a bizarre set of carousel horses, with the bodies of rubber ducks, all of which began to circle rapidly around the room. "Go ahead, hop on~! But better watch out, these horsies have a mean bite~"

         The Nightmare snickered and dove into a cartwheel, throwing himself onto the back of one of the figures, which tried to toss him off like a bucking bronco. "Piece of cake, I've wrangled a few horsies in my d-AAGH!!" He was swiftly knocked off by a flying duck ramming him at full force, sending him careening into the spinning walls of the room. He bounced off of the squishy surface and lay crumpled in a heap, cracking up with hyena-like hysterics. Jevil, too, giggled hysterically at his opponent's prat-fall. It felt so grand to finally have someone to play with again!!

        And so, their antics continued. Jevil came at Ragaeli with everything he had, and the Nightmare almost effortlessly parried it away with his meaty hands or flexible limbs. As Jevil revealed more and more tricks up his sleeve, from his ability to shapeshift into his own scythe, to a downright unfair barrage of clover-shaped bullets, Ragaeli revealed that his tail could multiply into three, which crackled with red sparks; They lunged forward and managed to ensnare the manic jester, slithering against his round belly and backs of his knees, even slipping one of his shoes off to entwine their prongs between his clawed toes.         "AIYEEE-HEEHEEEE UEE-HEEHEE NOOOHOHOHOOO-HEEHEE!!" The ticklish shock to his system surprised the jester enough that his head launched out on its spring coil, before retreating back for him to grab the ends of his hat and hide his flushed face and goofy smile.

        The Nightmare snickered fiendishly at his reactions. "What's wrong~? Surely the court-appointed master of laughter can handle a little tickling?"         The playful taunting just flabbergasted the thrashing imp all the more. Not because he hated it; but because he, the clever jester with an unholy amount of magic energy had never been so easily bested by something that wasn't a physical fight... And on some level, it was thrilling. It felt so good to laugh with such passion; Real, true laughter, instead of a hollow imitation of happiness. Being unable to focus on anything but their game, on the consequences of each other's "attacks", took his mind off the dreadful, existential thoughts that plagued him, and made him think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to his and this world's existence after all...

          But in the meantime, it was his turn, and he was ready for revenge. He poofed himself out of the nightmare's tendrils and re-appeared underneath him, turning his scythe into a rubber mallet to send Ragaeli flying up near the ceiling. He smiled wickedly, summoning a barrage of attacks that started to morph into vaguely hand and feather-like shapes. With a clap of his hands, they rocketed up to the Nightmare, burying into his belly, ribs and armpits, slithering down the wide collar of his leotard, trapping his ankles into cuffs so that they could saw between his toes and whirl against his soles like fuzzy sawblades. The onslaught caused the monster to howl and screech with hysteria, thrashing and swatting at the symbols in vain. "GYEEEE-HEHEHEHEHEH WHY Y-YOHOHOHOUUU-HAHAHAHA~!!"         Jevil giggled devilishly. "Uee-heeheee, what's wrong, what's wrong~? You're the Tickle Monster, are you not? Or were you lying all along? Can't handle being at the wrong end of your own fiendish plot~?"         Ragaeli snarled in his laughter, attempting to swat at the jester with his tails. "GRAAHH-HAHAHAH SH-SHUHUHUHUT UHUHUP YOU L-LIHIHITTLE-!!" And yet, despite his protests at the unbearable attack, the Nightmare's laughter, too, resonated with excitement and elation. It echoed through the vast cell, emanating with such unbridled joy and wild abandon that it stirred something inside of Jevil. Something...Warm, and oddly reassuring. And finally, from the depths of the jester's scrambled mind, memories started to return to him...

         He once knew laughter as well, and more than that, making others laugh. The four Kings, laughing at his antics in the court; young Rudinns and Jigsawrys and a baby Clover, all laughing gleefully at his dazzling displays of card symbols, dancing ribbons and fireworks. The dancers in the halls laughing as the court jester pulled prank after prank on the uptight dolt Rouxls Kaard. The Spade King, telling him how eager he was for his son to be born, so that Jevil could teach him how to spread joy through the kingdom. And Seam, his dear friend, letting out a rare gem of laughter whenever he said a silly joke or snuck up on the wooly cat and tickled his sides...

         Before long, Jevil's magic was no longer set to kill mode; a fact that wouldn't have affected the reality-bending Nightmare made of laughter either way, but others caught in the crossfire would no longer be in danger of a "game over". His will began to shift, and now his projectiles were imbued with the overwhelming urge to make their target crumble into a heap of elated laughter.         Perfect. Ragaeli grinned gleefully, snapping his fingers and poofing himself out of the hold of the magic symbols, standing to face Jevil, folding his arms behind his head. "Well now, seems like something's getting through to that polyvinyl noggin of yours--"         That brief moment was all Jevil needed to re-appear behind him, lunging to rapidly scribble his fingers and prod his tail along Ragaeli's belly, snickering to himself. "You so easily let your guard down!! I thought I was the clown!!"         "GYAA-HAHAHAHA!! TH-THAT WAS ON PURPOHOHOSE!!" Ragaeli slithered his pronged tail up to scribble against Jevil's 'neck' and pointy ears, sending him flying back on his spring-coil with a yowl.

        Jevil wasn't sure how long their game went on. Minutes, hours, days? Time never meant much of anything in his personal freedom; But now, he never wanted it to end. If those three adventurers did ever come back with the key, this would be quite the sight to walk in on...         Before long, though, the jester's 'attacks' were weakening, and his large tongue hung out with panting breaths; it became harder for him to levitate, or to tap out from the tickle monster's ruthless attacks; Ragaeli could sense his growing fatigue and eventually stopped, letting Jevil collapse to the bouncy floor.

        "H-Hee-hehehe...That was fun, fun!! But enough is enough, you tired me up!" He giggled, but his grin turned to a pout. "But I don't want to sleep yet, I still want to play with everyone, everyone..."         "Ohh, I think that can be arranged~" Ragaeli's hand sparked and crackled with magic, making Jevil instinctively squeak and flinch. But he shook his head. "Hehe, don't be worried~ This will give your energy back." But he closed his fist and extinguished the magic. "But hear me out first. If you play to take away everyone's HP, they won't want to play with you. They'll just put you down here again."         Jevil snorted and folded his arms. "Well at least I wouldn't be caged in their prison again, again..."         Ragaeli could still sense negative thoughts plaguing his mind.

Not real. Meaningless. Trapped. Just a game. Not wanted, not needed. Afraid of me. They'll leave me again, again. Seam will leave me again.

        At the very least, these thoughts weren't as loud as before, and were being dulled by the hope that perhaps he could be welcomed back by everyone... Ragaeli narrowed his gaze and snuck his hair tendrils over to prod along his round belly and sides again. "UEEE-HEEEHEEE!!" He rolled over to the other side, hiding his flushed face again.         "Heheh, come on now, no need to hide that face every time I get a laugh outta you~" He managed to tug the jester's hat off, revealing short, dark curly hair and a small pair of horns. Jevil gasped, his eyes going wide and he reached over frantically trying to grab his hat back. "HEYY!! Just because you forgot yours doesn't mean mine's up for grabs!!"   Ragaeli chuckled. "Relax, you'll get it back, if you listen to me first. There's no use letting those thoughts get in the way of your fun, now is there? Even if you live your life 'confined' with the others, at least you'd still have playmates, right? You still have the chance to make amends and show your friends you're not going to let your story end. ...See, now I've been hangin' around you too long. You're turning me into a natural poet~"         The sulky jester couldn't help but snicker. "Even if I did, even if they want to be my friend, I can never see this world the same way again, again..." He trembled. "The vision, the prophecy... The skies will darken, the world will crack, the calamity will sweep away all in it's path...No matter how many broken bonds we try to mend; Whether we play or flee, everything will end!!" He choked back a wail, hiding his face in his palms, his pointy ears drooping back.

        Ragaeli rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, scratching his head thoughtfully for a moment. "Look; Of course things aren't gonna be the same. Of course things end someday. That's the point of LIVING!" The Nightmare barked and jumped up, causing another loud THUD as he stooped over on his haunches like an agitated mountain lion. "You change and you grow and you LIVE, despite how tiny or messed up you think your existence is. You CHALLENGE anything or anyone who tries to tell you that you can't find your way outta that dark tunnel. Fake? Real? Who CARES?? You're HERE! Your life is only meaningless if YOU choose to live it without meaning!!"         Jevil peeked out from under his hands as the deity ranted. He then scoffed, taking his tail and fiddling with it as he avoided Ragaeli's eye contact. "That's easy enough for you to say. Your existence, your world, isn't made to be a game for OTHERS to play."

        Ragaeli calmed down a little, patting his hair sympathetically and tweaking one of his horns. "Listen, Jev-In-The-Box. You're right about one thing. You can't change the circumstances that brought you into being. And sometimes, that really sucks." He frowned. "It sucks for those little mortals who have such little control over the society that keeps 'em prisoner. And even for someone like me...I can't change the fact that I come from a world that wouldn't exist without mortals. Any Nightmare can disappear in the blink of an eye if they aren't remembered by enough people."         "Really..??"         Ragaeli nodded. "That's why some of 'em try so hard to be remembered, even if it means playing with humans like cats torturing mice before they eat 'em. And I can't make them value life. But I also can't let them freely roam the world that imagined us up, or reality as we know it would fall apart. I can't even stay in other timelines or realities too long or I risk fading away for good."         Jevil listened curiously, a hint of a concerned frown crossing his face.         The deity shrugged. "So I just make the best of it, y'know? I have fun showing other people that their world isn't as small and hopeless as they think." The thoughtful expression left the entity's face as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a devilish grin. "So YOU had better not let me catch you moping about in those gloomy thoughts of yours again," he poked Jevil's plush belly, making the jester squeal and bat his hand away. The Nightmare snickered. "And if I see you trying to end other people's game instead of finding ways to make laughter and excitement a part of your reality... Then I WILL be back, and I'll show you what it really means to be ticklish~" He narrowed his gaze and cracked his knuckles loudly, his body emanating with an aura of electric energy, his hair tendrils raising into the air like cobras poised to strike, wriggling their fingers and forming into bristles.

        Jevil shrieked and quickly scrambled back. "YEEEP-!! ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ALREADY, I GET IT I GET IT!!" The jester first pouted at being told what to do. But something about the strange monster's words...Felt to be true.

        Ragaeli chuckled, his hair calming back down. "Of course, that doesn't mean there's no fun to be had in a bit of harmless chase," he flashed a devious grin. "You can make them pay, without making them go away, so that way you can all play again and again~ The eventual catch can be the best pay-off of all~"         The implication of the tickle monster's words started to sink in. A Grinch-like smile started to spread across the imp's face as terrible schemes came to his mind. He could play a game of 'Surrender' with anyone, anytime, and they wouldn't have to lose their HP over it. It could be one big game of hide-and-tickle, or tickle tag, or a test of endurance, or another way for the King to interrogate outsiders about Lightners...         Sensing that his thoughts had changed their tune, Nightmare gave him back his hat...And transferred a surplus of magic energy fueled by laughter, adrenaline and mischief to replenish his strength.

        Jevil gasped as if surfacing for a breath of fresh air, then giggled and sprung to his feet. "Fine, you've won me over, I hope you're happy! But I think we'll have to wait until the Lightners return with that key. Once they do, I'll wreak havoc in that boring little prison of theirs and this Joker will be the one to have the last laugh~!" He giggled fiendishly and rubbed his hands together, bouncing impatiently in place.

        Ragaeli smirked. "Hehe, no need to wait for a key. Prisoners break themselves out all the time, so why not just break in~?" He hopped over to the door, grasped his large hand around the bars, his hand emanating with crackling magic again... And the lock popped open with a click.         Jevil went slack-jawed. "Wowee!! You really are strong! I can't even best Seam's magic enchantments at full strength!" he then cleared his throat. "That isn't to say I couldn't have broken in all along. I just didn't want to is all," he shrugged and stuck his tongue out. "So now it's time to say...SO LONG!!" He cackled maniacally and shot like a bullet out of the door.

        When he flung himself from inside the cell, he saw the three travellers from earlier, now gawking up at him incredulously.         "W-What the-?!" Susie and Ralsei's eyes went wide.         Jevil instantly pounced them, rapidly bombarding them with scribbling fingers, rapid pokes and his tail slithering between their limbs. Shrieks of startled laughter answered him, even from the quiet, stoic one. They were too preoccupied with trying to flail away to notice the jester snatch the key out from under their noses. As soon as he had it, he stopped and hovered above them.         Susie panted for a minute. "WHAT WAS THAT FOR?! I'LL KILL YOU FOR THAT!!" she snarled, brandishing her axe.         "H-How did you get out?!" Ralsei questioned. "I thought you needed the key??"         Jevil merely answered with a wild grin, focusing his power in his hands until the key sparkled and crackled with his magic...And shattered into hundreds of tiny shards. Without another word, he rocketed up the winding stone steps, laughing incomprehensibly.         "WH...WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Susie shouted.         "I don't...think that was supposed to happen..." Ralsei scratched his head through his hat.         Kris just shrugged, and Susie grumbled. "We went through all that shit just to get the key and he didn't even NEED it!! I'm getting real damn sick of this stupid castle!!" She pounded the handle of her ax into the ground, huffing loudly.         Ralsei frowned. "Well, don't worry about him. I think it's time we go find Lancer, yeah?"         At this, Susie calmed down a little, sighing. "Yeah, you're right. We've kept him waiting long enough. Some mystery prisoner isn't any of our damn business."

        It was already too late, regardless of whether the heroes tried to go after him. The jester's second reign of chaos was swift and sudden. He ricocheted through the castle, his manical laughter echoing through every hallway, his bursts of magic visible like fireworks in the distance, his devilsknife and his magic attacks shapeshifting into other "weapons" like giant featherdusters, scrubbing brushes and makeshift hands. At first the guards were horrified that the infamous prisoner had escaped. But once they were reduced to shrieks of laughter and pleading and apologies, and Jevil declared victory before bee-lining to his next target and eventually leaving the castle, the denizens of the Darkner world were left flabbergasted, nervous, and perhaps even amused and curious to see if this "dangerous criminal" would return for more...

        Ragaeli watched the commotion smugly as he started to fade back to his realm. "Oh dear, it appears I've created a monster~"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        You make your way back down the elevator and stairs. You double-check your items, use the save point, and....         What the hell? The dungeon door is gone! Is this an easter egg of some kind? Did the game glitch out? You check your items again... The key is gone too.         Okay, something must be wrong. Before you make the decision to replay the whole game just for the hidden boss, you head back to Seam. Maybe talking to him again will re-trigger the events needed for fixing the key?

        But when you go inside the "Seap", it isn't just Seam anymore. The secret boss, Jevil, now has a full sprite, grinning gleefully at the player.

        [ * UEE HEE HEE, WELCOME, WELCOME LIGHTNERS! SO SORRY WE DIDN'T GET TO PLAY, PLAY. MAYBE ANOTHER DAY! ]

        You talk to Seam first, triggering his usual dialogue about how Jevil ended up in the dungeon, and how the heroes would eventually have to face the Knight. And, interestingly, an additional bit of dialogue explaining how the heroes just missed Jevil's "escape", and how his reunion with his old friend was filled with a great deal of laughs...         Talking to Jevil afterwards brings up more dialogue. You ask him how he got out of the dungeon.

[ *YES, YES, I SUPPOSE I SHOULD EXPLAIN THAT KEY. I HAD ANOTHER STRANGER COME TO ME! ]

[ *BUT THIS ONE DID NOT MAKE ME FEEL SO AIMLESS. IN FACT, HE SHOWED ME THAT I WOULD HAVE MADE QUITE A MESS! ]

[ * THIS MAY ALL JUST BE A GAME, AND YOU... YES, YOU OUT THERE...]

        His sprite momentarily came closer, his yellow irises seeming to bore right into you through your screen...

[ * -MAY HAVE MORE SAY IN WHAT RIGHTS WE CAN OR CANNOT FLAUNT. BUT I THINK, EVEN IN THIS PRISON, WE CAN STILL BE HAPPY, HAPPY, AND PLAY AS MUCH AS WE WANT! ]

[ * WHO IS REAL, AND WHO IS NOT? I DON'T THINK THAT MATTERS ANYMORE, ANYMORE. ]

[ * THAT SILLY RED MONSTER, WHO LAUGHS AND LAUGHS AND REMINDED ME THAT THIS WORLD DOES NOT HAVE TO BE A BORE...]

[ * THE STRANGE WORDS HE SAID HAVE STUCK INSIDE MY SPRINGS. NOW MY VIEW ON THIS WORLD HAS BECOME JUST A LITTLE LIGHTER... ]

[ * AND I'M CURIOUSER, AND CURIOUSER, TO SEE WHAT THE FUTURE BRINGS~! ]

[writing-frenzy]

Hollow Knight AU Idea- Other side of the Mirror

okay, so, I like the drabbler I am, saw this post by @catanutella and suddenly I got an amazing, if awful AU idea :D

Let’s set up first.

For the Radiant Children to be born, I imagine a world where, for a certain reason, the Pale King and Radiance actually have to work together. Like, maybe there is a big bad cult, and because I like the subversion of everything in Hollow Knight, maybe it is against a god/goddess of Healing or ‘Purity’. The Radiance has been fighting against them for a long time, but she never seems to be anything but on the defense with them, their planing and power able to outmatch her own. At least, until the Pale King comes into being.

Now, the Pale King has seen the future, he can see the path that can branch if he picks one road or the other, and in the end, the cult has ideas and thoughts he can never agree with. He can see that he would never be able to take them on alone, so with the aid of Unn and the White Lady, he meets with the Radiance and with terms laid down, they all work together to defeat the enemy god. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Once the other is cast out, things get a bit complicated... but they are eventually ironed out, if a bit tense at time with some relations. In the end, the Pale King is able to give minds to the bugs all around them, the Radiance is able to give them all dreams, but in the end, it is up to the bugs themselves to decide who they wish to follow in the end. Hollownest is built and most of the Moths still choose the Radiance, with some going over to the Pale King. This of course causes tension, but it was agreed to let the bugs choose, so there is that. 

So yeah, this is the world that the Radiant Children are born into. 

Now, i’m going to say this; I think Wyrms have very low birth rates, one of the reasons their species went extinct. The White Lady, being of earth and fertility in my headcannon, is able to still give him a lot of kids. (With no desperate plans and void to enter into the egg) they have a few children, I’m thinking between like 30-50.

So yeah, here is the set up for this idea; of course there will be drama, with fae like gods and court politics and all these still very morally grey characters still being themselves. (I want feral Child Hornet to be born, so maybe it was a term set down in the beginning to get Deepnest’s cooperation, the desire for a strong brood in the future or maybe one or two of the Radiant children gets saved by Herrah, who thinks ‘what about a life for a life? and boom, Hornet gets to exist and her mom won’t be a damn dreamer here.)

Now, here we get to where I want to be.

So, if we were in a comic or story, this would probably follow after a few arcs with subtle and not so subtle foreshadowing. The Cult is making a comeback, they are preparing, and now they are ready.

They have a special weapon with them this time, a mirror called the All-Seer’s Glass, said to show possibilities for what can be, as well as able to power up those who know how to use it. They also are able to somehow trick Grimm, making it to where the Nightmare King can only watch what is to happen, much to his distaste. (He does not care to be commanded or ordered around; the Cult was at least smart enough to not ask him to fight on their side, just that he watch and judge, and not interfere.)

So, i’m going to say a lot of the Radiant Children were kidnapped, from Arlo the oldest to young little Chi. With the Glass, they are all trapped in this mirror like world, where the gods are weakened and the Healing/Pure Cult is mostly in control. Grimm is forced to watch from the side, though through some sneaky antics, he is able to at least help out the kids break their bindings and get out of enemy hands, but is unable to help outside of that.

All the kids are scared; from the strange shadows they see outside their vision in the mirrored walls, to all the fighting, hiding behind their guards or Mother as the Radiance and their Father, along with other strong warriors, fight the monsters before them.

-

But they are getting worn down; within the mirror realm, they are weakened, and with the Cult able to constantly heal themselves, it seems like no progress is actually being made.

Chi watched on, as their father, who always stood so strong, so tall is beaten back by the enemies, who laugh and sneer in the face of his power. Can’t help but cry out as he see a nasty blow hit Father in one of his wings, the guard protecting the little one stopping them from reaching out.

‘Anyone...’ Chi thinks, tears falling onto their chitin as they watch this terrible battle so different from the stories they read, ‘Anyone, just anyone... please! Please help us...’ those tears ever so slightly blurring their vision, but doing nothing to quiet the cries of their family and friends, from the battle screeching of those fighting.

‘Help my Father..’ 

Chi can’t help but cry out, jostled as they are by their guard suddenly jumping, trying to get away from one of the Cultist trying to take their precious ward. Hears the louder cries of his siblings, sobs reaching out, distractions on the battlefield that work rather well.

‘Help my brother and sisters!’

(All the while the guard is fighting, forced to put the little one behind them, shadows start to form in the mirrored wall behind little Chi, a form that starts to become clear and clearer as the fight goes on.)

‘Please...’

Chi looks up into those cold, dark eyes of the bug who killed his guard, their nail still stained from their kill as they walk ever so arrogantly forward, the youth easily able to smell how pleased they are. They raise their nail once more, their actions obvious in what they are about to do to stain their nail even further.

‘Help.’  

Chi closes their eyes, not able to watch how that deadly nail reaches for them, to end them. 

This means their wide eyes flash open when they hear the counter.

Hearing the clashing of nails loud in the sudden silence they seem to be surrounded by, Chi looks up from the ground, watching as a small, grey cloaked bug easily goes toe to toe with the enemy. They are amazingly talented with a nail, performing nail arts Chi has only read about in books. They are even able to perform spells, judging by the soul energy that finally finishes off the foe. It is in this still moment that Chi is able to actually get a good look at the other bug, as they turn to him...

And kinda wishes he didn’t.

From those very familiar horns, the indents inside the tip of them, to the white of their chitin, a pale glow just barely able to be seen, it reminded Chi of one of their sister’s drawings, without any color and unfinished, no life given to it yet.

And yet... it seemed to be living right in front of them, a mirror image of their self in body, if the glass was black and grey that is.

Chi can only watch as this... other tilts their head at the for a bit, the darkness that can only seem to stare at them from their eye holes seeming to deepen the longer they look. Chi can’t help but feel a little relived when the other nods, turning away before they are off into the fight, easily moving within the chaos and madness of it all.

Like they are used to it, at home with it as it were.

-

So yeah, Little Ghost joins the fight, and the tide is turned greatly. Ghost is a tireless, restless fighting machine who only gets more power with every hit they get. To say that the home team are surprised is a very big understament, as one; this looks like one of the children, and two; why do they feel like death and void??!! Pale King does not like this, White Lady is disturbed, and the Radiance is very uneasy.

Grimm is admittedly stunned as well when a little Grimmchild helps Ghost get a few stubborn enemies, the nightmare fire unaffected in this mirrored realm (almost a bit stronger in fact, hence why they tricked Grimm in the first place).

Ghost is very much giving off the Uncanny Valley vibe, and with me imagining this is a fully looped Ghost (every ending has happened, but because of Ghost’s special ability, he just ends up starting over every time) he gives off an even more creepy pasta child feeling.

Not to mention just how OP he is.

When the fight is won and all is said and done, Ghost can go back home anytime as long as he can get to the abyss... but come on, this is Ghost.

Of course he is going to explore first chance he gets.

(And thus, we now have Ghost running wild in this nice little au. :D oh what havoc he will rein.)

[reynesofcastamere]

Jagged Crowns(1/2)[β]

(A/N: I had a bit of an internal debate as to whether I should keep writing while...Well, some parts of our world are in a rapid spiral towards a fascist dystopian nightmare due to centuries of institutionalized racism, ignorance, and hair-trigger violence, among other things. I understand that I will never fully comprehend what POC have suffered, because the system has been rigged in my favour since before I was born. There is much and more that can and has been said on the subject, but to summarize: It is not my intention to further harmful ideas/depictions or to hurt people via this self-indulgent outlet. If I have done so(and not given appropriate warnings), please do not hesitate to inform me so that I may correct this. That said, warnings for: gore, violence, death, intrusive thoughts, mental breakdown/hallucinations, and suicidal ideation. The prompt for this was ‘Ahsoka helping Maul through his own struggles, since he’s pretty much on the verge of insanity at all times.’ Unbeta’d.)

In the end, there is no need for a chosen one. No bright, wide-eyed youth to take up a burning sword and the incalculable burden of ridding the galaxy of an oppressive evil. The reality turns out to be less of a legend and more of a horror story.

The Royal Palace is littered with the dead and dying, but there is only one that matters. Sidious is still immensely powerful, but his body has grown old and slow, and there are only so many guards he can sacrifice to protect himself. Overcoming his Force lightning, preventing bones and organs from being crushed, protecting their minds from invasion and violation: That is much harder. But finally, finally Maul strikes off the Emperor’s head as Ahsoka’s twin ‘sabres pierce his shriveled, black heart. She steps back. He keeps going, slicing and hacking until the throne is in pieces, the floor is a cross-hatch of burning lines, and what was once an Emperor is nothing more than a pile of charred meat and cloth.

“Is this...Am I free? No, this was too easy. Master always has a contingency plan.” He does not even realize he is voicing these thoughts, too occupied with searching the Force for something, any trace of Sidious’s presence. Foolish child. You thought you could defeat ME? I know your every pitiful thought, every scheme you concocted while you wriggled, a blind maggot encased in filth. “Be silent.” Maul snarls, fingertips coiled around his anterior horns, palms pressed into his eyelids. “Focus. Focus. Search for him, he cannot hide from us.” There is another voice, outside his head, but he cannot hear it. He has to know. Yet despite the venomous hiss that tries to steal away his concentration, there is...nothing. The Dark Side is empty of even the barest wisp of his Master. “Gone. Gone at last. Finally I have achieved Bane’s will...” He laughs, long and erratically pitched. Not a comforting sound, or even a sane one. Wait. There is something. He uncovers his eyes and re-opens them. Someone before him, unlit ‘sabres in hand. Another rival apprentice. Another test. “Have I not done enough to prove myself?” Maul whispers, disbelieving and enraged all at once. No. You must destroy all who would stand in your way if you wish to claim my power. Prove that you are worthy and strike them down! “Yes, my Master.” He had dropped his sabrestaff before -careless, stupid, he could have been killed-, but it leaps eagerly into his hand and activates as he begins his assault. He cannot seem to get a clear picture of his opponent, their form shadowed and not entirely solid around the edges. He sees their weapons clearly enough, though, especially when they clash with his own. His rival is on the defensive, parrying his strikes but not counterattacking. He cannot hear their words past the blood rushing in his ears, infuriated by this insult. Is he so weak that they do not even think him worth the effort of assaulting?! Maul drives them back, seeking to disarm, to maim, to kill, but he cannot connect. He resorts to yanking their legs out from under them with the Force, lips curled in a feral snarl as he raises his sabrestaff for the final blow...Then the Light bursts into his mind with the force of a battering ram, and he can feel-These thoughts, this presence, he knows it-Mine, this warmth is mine, cast from the star forever out of my reach. Ahsoka Tano looks up at him, eyes wide from exertion and fear. “Maul. Please, stop.” His legs give out from under him, weapon deactivated and slipping from his suddenly-nerveless fingers. He does not know how long it takes for her to come to him. Seconds, or perhaps years, her hands circling his face as their lips meet. He pulls her close, fervent and desperate in his passion. Yes. This is fitting. One last time, before the end. “You must kill me.” A whisper when they part for air, watching her blink in confusion. “What are you talking about?” “I have never fought for your hope of a restored Republic. You know this. You have prepared for it. Sidious is dead and I will inevitably take control of his Empire. Unless you stop me.” “I don’t have to murder you to accomplish that.” “Ah, so you are content to truss me up like a rabid animal and let your superiors toss me in a cage or cut off my head. How noble.” “No.” “Why? Because you believe that they will not take the opportunity to rid themselves of a long-standing nuisance? Or that they will simply leave me in peace because our goals aligned temporarily?” He summons her shoto to his right hand, snarling in frustration as he presses it to her left. “You are neither sentimental or naive, Ahsoka Tano. Do not hesitate.” For a moment, it seems as if she will go through with it. As if white light and the deep blue of her eyes will be the last things he sees. It is not the nature of the Sith, to surrender to death’s embrace so readily. But Maul has...never been a true Sith, and he is so very tired. The voices in his head are blessedly silent, yet it is only a temporary reprieve. Without purpose, without vengeance or ambition, he will lose himself again. “Stop running, Maul.” Her voice is firm, and oh, she burns bright enough to blind him, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Ahsoka takes her weapon from him, sets it down, and entwines their fingers instead. “You’re right. I know who you are and what you can do. I also know you’re capable of more than that.” He cannot breathe. What has she done, to make him feel this way? That there might be hope of being...something other than this? “Did you really think I didn’t notice all these years? The small acts of compassion and honour...Palpatine didn’t rip those away from you.” She is so warm, so willing to offer up these things he has blatantly denied himself and others. “A foolish dream.” Maul rebuts, but there is no real strength behind it. His left arm holds her more tightly, both for emotional and practical purposes. He is not certain how much longer he can remain even partially upright. “It doesn’t have to be. Join me.” Ahsoka offers. “There’s still Vader, Thrawn, and a whole mess of other Imperials to defeat or force surrender from. But after...We can try to build something of our own.” Her right thumb lightly brushes over his cheek. “Won’t be easy, but it’s a chance for both of us to try something different.” “You will regret this decision. Soon.” He points out dryly. There is only so much optimism he is willing to endure, even in this state. She only laughs. “And you haven’t driven me insane. Yet. I don’t expect either one of us to be perfect at this from the start. Just to try.” Her hand curves down and around, lightly dragging her nails up his nape and eliciting a low rumble from him. “Aren’t you going to give me your answer?” Her smile cements the fact that she is utterly devious beneath her relatively-harmless exterior and he will get her back for this later. “You. Are an unrepentant tease. And I will greatly enjoy administering your punishment.” He growls, both impressed and frustrated by her manipulation. “But I am willing to see whether this insane notion of yours will work.” His agreement brings a smile from her, but not before she rolls her eyes and gives a small, exasperated exhale. “‘Yes’ would have worked fine, you know.” “And since when have I ever passed up the opportunity to frustrate you, my Lady?” “Ass. Mmmmph...”

“Care to rephrase that?”

“No. You are the worst. But I might be persuaded to change my opinion.”

“Let us see if I am up to the challenge, then.”

This is merely the beginning of a very long, hard road. Yet neither one of them will walk it alone, and that makes all the difference.

(A/N:Things I didn’t include in the top note because it was getting a bit wordy: This is set around 5-ish BBY, so Thrawn isn’t a Grand Admiral yet, only an Admiral(or possibly Commander, depending on when his promotion happened). Obviously certain canon events didn’t happen (ie Malachor), and Maul and Ahsoka have been in a sort-of relationship for about a decade at this point. Also, sorry, they didn’t have sex in the throne room. Just makeouts and soul-searching. This is absolutely a starting point. Neither character is ‘cured’ of their various issues/traumas by the end of this installment even if they are being semi-cute and flirty. This is...not what I would consider a realistic way to handle someone being triggered/having a delusional episode, but I digress. *notices that fics that have started with gore or violent imagery have mostly ended in fluff* -_-....Hm...Well, that’s a pattern. Or possibly a problem. Cheers, everyone!) 

[strawberry-skies-xx]

you wingless thing

C H A P T E R   O N E

summary:  So, Geralt saves the terrorizing for the actual noble lord, and makes himself as unthreatening as possible. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t a savage, bloodthirsty beast, and he’d rather this boy not be raised under that falsehood - though, it’s likely no matter what Geralt does that he will.

The boy’s voice stutters as he looks up at Geralt, words coming out too fast and heart beating rabbit-fast. “S-sir, Lord Erynd requests your presence.”

Geralt gets a contract in a town called Eristan, but it turns out the only monster there is human.

word count: 26516

tags: rape/non-con, dead dove: do not eat, geralt / jaskier, original female character, original male character, angst with a happy ending, angst, angst and feels, rape, past rape/non-con, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, psychological abuse, emotional abuse, emotionally repressed, fae jaskier, fae magic, hurt jaskier, torture, revenge, past torture, hurt/comfort, past abuse, jaskier whump, feral jaskier, creature jaskier, inhuman jaskier, eventual happy ending, love confessions, idiots in love, wing kink, homoerotic wing grooming

author’s note: this fic came to me in a dream and is now 26k so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

and on that note, any weirdness can be blamed on my subconscious, which is very wild and is lucky i can actually make its nonsense coherent enough for a fic.

scheduled monday, wednesday, and friday

main masterlist | story on ao3 | next chapter >>

It’s in the heat of summer that Geralt gets a contract in Eristan, a town buried deep in a forest named after it.

He’s heard rumors about this town - nearly everyone who travels within a two hundred mile radius of it has. The town isn’t small - it has some nobility of its own, and quite a few open fields within it - but the entirety of it is surrounded by a massive forest. Trade there is nearly impossible due to that, and some say that the forest itself is cursed, because it happens far too often that some people don’t make it out. Others say that the town is cursed; the streak of good and bad luck there is too extreme, too spontaneous to be normal.

Geralt doesn’t believe these rumors. Not in the way the townsfolk do, at least. Eristan is not cursed, and neither is Eristan Forest. There is simply a creature there, or a mage, which they have gotten on the bad side of. He doesn’t take it as superstition - for one, because he doesn’t feel any magic in the forest as he travels through it, and for two, he makes it out just fine, emerging on the outskirts of one of the fields on the edge of the town.

He stops at the treeline and scans the town. Short houses are scattered in clumps around larger mansions, supposedly belonging to the nobility, and vast open fields separate the clusters from each other. It’s a bit different than most established towns Geralt has come across, especially the fact that one of the noble mansions is atop a hill, and behind it, a stone spire, twisting up into the sky.

Geralt feels the hum of his medallion against his chest, and almost considers turning back right then and there. There’s no monster in this town; he knows that tower is the source of their troubles, and judging by its proximity to the noble mansion in front of it, he’s guessing the nobles are playing with forces they don’t understand. He wouldn’t be surprised if they managed to piss off some powerful creature, and that’s why the city is so spontaneous and extreme with its luck.

Geralt sighs and begins making camp right there. He really doesn’t feel like traipsing across an entire town with the weight of everyone’s judgmental stares on his back, and then have to deal with entitled nobility. Especially when that nobility probably has even more of a power complex for being able to keep up the illusion of capturing a powerful creature like the one in that tower.

He sleeps under the stars instead, with the fading warmth of the fire next to him and the even more faded warmth of his medallion humming against his chest - and then ends up traipsing across the entire town in the morning, waking up at the early light of dawn and packing up the little things he has.

The first cluster of houses he comes across is just as judgmental as he expected it to be. Geralt doesn’t miss the whispers following him, of Butcher and monster and freak; the names have been following him like a shadow his entire life. The only difference is there’s one more added on. He sighs and keeps riding on Roach, through the second and third cluster of houses.

It’s nearing sunset when he finally makes it to the fourth, just beneath the hill the noble’s mansion is built on, with dust in his clothes and Roach panting beneath him. He dismounts Roach and stables her in an inn that looks only slightly more promising than most of the others, because the stable boys, at least, only look at him with the customary fear of a Witcher, and not the heightened fear of the Butcher.

He swings the inn door open, mentally bracing himself against the onslaught of noise, and walks inside. The inn slowly goes quiet as he does, the sharp scent of fear stinging Geralt’s nose and the quiet hush of whispers reaching his ears as he makes his way to the innkeeper and negotiates for a room.

It takes at least ten minutes, and it’s the smallest room the inn has at too high a price, but Geralt manages to get it and he pays for the room before walking directly upstairs to it. He’s not in the mood for drinking, not when he’s going to be dealing with nobility in the morning, and he doesn’t want to push his luck either. It’s unlikely he’d get a drink in this establishment anyway, when it was as hard as it was to get a room.

He sighs as he sets his swords down and strips off his armor, looking around the room. There isn’t a bath drawn, and Geralt isn’t sure that the inn would provide him one. He figures that it’s just dust anyway, and he’d rather go to bed slightly dusty than get thrown out of the inn or deal with harsh words for wanting a luxury such as bathing. At least he’s not covered in monster guts, though in that memorable occasion, he did get a bath in the end, if only because the innkeeper got too many complaints about the smell.

He falls into the bed in the corner once he finishes and drifts into sleep quickly, ignoring the increased pulsing hum of his medallion against his chest.

Geralt’s eyes snap open just as footsteps stop outside his door and three loud, resounding knocks sound on the wood. He sits up in bed, a quick scent of the air bringing in lavender, exotic spices, and some more expensive smells. There’s no sweat, dirt, or ale on any of Geralt’s sudden company outside his door.

Nobility then. Geralt sighs, mentally lamenting the fact that he hasn’t even had breakfast yet, and stands up, walking to the door and swinging it open with an unimpressed expression on his face.

There’s three of them - one young boy whose fear-scent makes Geralt’s nose burn, and two guards who do better to hide it, but whose heartbeats still ratchet up a notch at the sight of him.

The boy falters at the expression on Geralt’s face, brown eyes wide and terrified, so he softens his face slightly. He isn’t here to terrorize the pager boy this entitled noble lord hired, and it’s not the boy’s fault that they came to get Geralt at the crack of dawn.

So, Geralt saves the terrorizing for the actual noble lord, and makes himself as unthreatening as possible. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t a savage, bloodthirsty beast, and he’d rather this boy not be raised under that falsehood - though, it’s likely no matter what Geralt does that he will.

The boy’s voice stutters as he looks up at Geralt, words coming out too fast and heart beating rabbit-fast. “S-sir, Lord Erynd requests your presence.”

Geralt sighs and flicks a glance at the guards. It most definitely is not a request, not from nobility, so he has no choice but to accept. Unless he’d rather be drawn into the political mess of a lord’s anger, which, he’d really rather not.

“Ten minutes,” he rumbles, and doesn’t wait for a response before he turns around and goes to get his armor.

The guards don’t look too happy with him when he walks back up to them fully dressed, but he can’t be made to give a fuck. If they want to come get him at the crack of dawn, then they can wait for him to get his shit together.

The walk to the noble’s mansion is quietly entertaining for Geralt, who watches the guards hide their panting and racing heartbeats, while he’s relatively unaffected by the uphill walk. The pager boy walks just ahead of Geralt and the guards, heart still racing and fear still stinging Geralt’s nose.

Of course, he shouldn’t have expected the people at the keep to be any less judgmental than his very unhappy escorts. As he’s led through the gate, he gets barely a nod of acknowledgment from the guards there, and he can feel the curious gazes and hushed whispers of the various landscapers occupying the front courtyard.

The main entryway of the noble’s manor is grand, including a spiral staircase in the center and clean white marble floors, the whole space made airy and open by the soaring ceilings carved with intricate patterns. Servants dressed in plain clothes flit about through doorways, some sparing curious glances at Geralt and some paying him no mind. The pager boy, straightening slightly as he’s in his element now, leads Geralt through one of the doorways to what appears to be a lavish front room, covered in soft, expensive rugs and couches and smelling almost overwhelmingly like flowers.

The floral perfumes almost hide the still-present scent of fear from the pager boy, and the natural scents of the guards. The perfumes are so strong that it puts Geralt on edge, having his sense of smell inhibited like this, but he tries to stay as relaxed and calm as possible in the guards’ presence, and takes a seat on one of the couches at the boy’s request before he hurries away out of sight.

The guards take up position behind him, against the wall - and that sets off more alarm bells in Geralt’s head. His fingers twitch from where they’re hanging between his thighs, and he focuses on the weight of his swords leaning against his calf, and the fainter, natural scents of the guards beneath the perfumes.

He doesn’t have to wait long before there’s the sound of footsteps and the floral scent increases, drifting in from the doorway as a man he can only assume is Lord Erynd enters and sits down on the couch across from Geralt.

Erynd is dressed in an expensive suit, with an overly generous application of that damned floral perfume floating around him in an almost suffocating cloud, and wearing the kind of smug arrogance Geralt only sees on nobles who think they are better and more entitled than everyone and everything around them. He sighs internally, really not up to dealing with nobility, but not exactly having a choice.

“Witcher,” Erynd starts, a note of harshness to his voice that solidifies Geralt’s assumption of this lord’s attitude, “I assume you came because of the contract one of my townspeople posted in a nearby village?”

Geralt nods. “You’ve been having bad luck lately - and really good luck.”

The lord inclines his head in acquiescence, but there’s a strange air of calm about him, as if he doesn’t care. It sets off distant alarm bells in Geralt’s head, but he stays still and quiet and keeps listening. “Yes, but the cause is of no concern to you. Your services are not required in this situation, because I have it more than handled,” Erynd says.

Geralt frowns, suspicion immediately seeping into his tone and his eyes narrowing as he holds Erynd’s eerily calm gaze. “Handled how?”

Erynd gives a small, pleased smile, which only sets Geralt more on edge. At this point, he’s on a hair-trigger, fingers twitching against his thigh and the weight of his swords leaning against his ankle a comfort.

“I would be delighted to show you, Witcher,” he says, all smug arrogance, “I’m sure you will appreciate my mastery of these beasts.” His tone drops lower, almost secretive - and there’s the catch. “I only ask that you keep this between us.”

Geralt pauses, frown still in place, considering his options. It’s very likely that this is a trap - if Erynd has some creature imprisoned in that tower like Geralt thinks he does, he knows he is dangerously close to being a monster himself, and may find himself the next monster in Erynd’s supposed collection.

Or, it’s something entirely different. But either way, it won’t work out well for him to refuse nobility.

Geralt smooths out his frown and schools his expression into something neutral. He can’t find out what Erynd is hiding if he shows displeasure towards it - that can be saved for later, when he dismantles whatever the lord has happening with the monsters, or when he is slashing his way out of being added to the lord’s collection.

“As you wish,” he replies instead, voice steady and neutral, and tries to shove down his uneasiness at the resulting sickly sweet smile on the lord’s face.

next chapter >>

[eveninglottie]

hello i am interested in some more deets about song of sunder 👀

WELL SINCE YOU ASKED smash cut to about two years ago when I was so badly wanting to play dnd that I just threw seven characters into a half-baked world and played pretend with myself (I’m not kidding there was actual dice involved). since then it’s been brewing in the back of my head and I only really started to think about it seriously last year. I’m sure some of it comes from my obsession with CR and my fic brain going “dothisdothisdothis” because it’s very much a ‘formative text’ for me, but it’s been this nice little feel good place for me to go back to, especially this year. 

it’s actually at the top of my list in terms of what I’ve been thinking about diving into (since I apparently cannot write fic anymore lol it’s fine), and I’ve been working on it a lot recently just fleshing out the world and the character arcs. 

though, one of the things I have been considering seriously is just how you write a story like this, in a format meant to be read rather than experienced like any other dnd campaign. like is it just seven povs with separate chapters (a la game of thrones) or, and this is the one I’m drawn to but have no idea what it would turn out like, is it a story told from a third person omniscient narrator, weaving interchangeably through perspectives just like a dm would do in an actual game. like a screenplay but with prose. dnd is such a subjective experience, and while a lot of people have had success adapting liveplays to other visual mediums, like animation or graphic novels, I’ve never seen someone do it in fiction. I especially have never done it lol. I only ever write from distinct povs and switch them out, so this would be hard. maybe. I haven’t actually tried it yet. 

the story itself is pretty standard high fantasy dnd, a ‘sundered’ world where the planes all kind of smushed up against each other (familiar? :P) with a bunch of different factions and nations and secrets and wars and people trying to be gods and all that jazz, with a group of assholes thrown into the mix to become big damn heroes (the bones of the world are actually what I used to flesh out DW but shh don’t tell anyone). every arc (9, one for each character and a beginning and an ending) would open with ari, the bard, almost like she’s telling a story to the reader. 

my pie in the sky ideas for it would be some kind of serialized fiction, if I could get my ass in gear to actually do it. I’ve thought about how amazing it would be to do an audio drama one day with different voice actors and music and sound effects and all that shit, like oh my god do I want to do that. I have no idea how to do that, obviously, but that would be The Dream. I’ve even gone so far as to pick out a theme song, because I clearly don’t have enough things to worry about in my life. 

(it’s a lullaby, like a story, told by a siren, like a bard, get it, get it)

and because I’m feeling indulgent and I spent all day making these face refs (thank you, you little monster) the aforementioned assholes (they all have multiple classes and subclasses because I have the Too Much gene): 

ari (ariannai), an autumn eladrin bard/druid (college of glamour and lore/circle of dreams) from the feywild, soft and sweet and perfectly capable of gutting anyone who tries to fuck with her, has a gold pseudodragon familiar named trill whom she loves like a child, plays a masterful mandolin, her voice is magic (literally), actual snow white, leliana and josephine were huge inspo for her

kayd, a human fighter/warlock (eldritch knight/hexblade and undying) from the frozen north, a charming sailor with a thirst to prove himself (listen I love fjord a lot okay) and a cursed sword (don’t worry about it), likes purple and flirting with everything that moves, frequently gets into trouble because of this, but he can talk his way out of a jail cell (and has!) so it’s been fine so far (don’t think about the cursed sword)

verity, a half-tiefling/half-drow monk/rogue (way of shadow/assassin and soul blade) from the shadowfell, a ruthless thief and a terrible shit-starter running from a dark past, she has a pet rat named poe and loves gossip, looks like a child but is actually the oldest in the group, knife girl, her horns are tiny enough to fit in a hood but not tiny enough to fit in with her elvish family so that sucked but hey they’re all dead now so who came out on top in the end

esher, a human artificer/fighter/sorcerer (battle smith/gunslinger/phoenix soul) from a bustling white city on a hill, an obnoxious noble with a long lineage and a complete disregard for politics and propriety and his own privilege (he’s a younger son so he’s usually left alone and ignored and that’s fine, obviously), he loves nerd shit and his ancient owl, hornsby, and sometimes he sets things on fire with his fingers which would be fine only he sets things on fire with his experiments as well so things are on fire a lot around him

goya (goyzadara), a half-orc/half-elf fighter/paladin/ranger (samurai/oath of the ancients/beast master), a princess in exile, honorable to a fault (which is why she was exiled), big into history and politics, finds a baby gryphon and immediately goes to pieces, Disaster Sword Lesbian, likes embarrassing men by kicking their asses in fighting rings, though she never takes the money, because she’s noble like that, has a weird obsession with dragons, does embroidery in her free time to chill out, can’t cook for shit

sabrathan, a scourge aasimar blood hunter/ranger/sorcerer (order of the ghostslayer/monster slayer/divine soul), a half feral girl from the woods who knows way too much about how to disembowel monsters three times her size, skittish and intense and maybe an angel but don’t ask her about it or she will disappear for a few hours and come back with an elk for dinner, never seen out of the company of her crossbow or her sickles, more comfortable around animals than people

theo (theoderic), a human sorcerer/wizard (runechild/school of chronurgy and conjuration and transmutation (he’s a special snowflake)), the smartest person you will ever meet and he knows it, socially awkward and unnervingly quiet, not actually an asshole just neurodivergent (but also sometimes an asshole), craves Phenomenal Cosmic Power and affection, has anime hair and terrible handwriting, Gay as Fuck

their group name would be Sirenox (the name of the last dragon seen in Sunder over five hundred years ago, whose final act was to grant a group of adventurers a boon to stop an archlich from plunging the land into eternal darkness), and I love them all very much, and definitely already have full romance arcs fleshed out for all of them, because that’s more important than worldbuilding, obviously.

so anyway there you go, my own little dnd campaign that I will probably never write, just think about wistfully until I die