#< tagged me on the og post so for organization

[punkeropercyjackson]

FUCK FUCK FUCK I COMPLETELY FORGOT THE ACTUAL POINT I WAS GONNA SAY ON MY 'Hobie hates cute things is a ratio ass take' POST WHICH IS Hobie expressed all his beliefs very clearly onscreen-He's anti-capitalism,he believes in solidarity between all minorities but prioritizes other black people,he's completely nonconformist and he thinks people who're considered 'super lame' are his friends by default.That's why i said Margo would get him a game emulator instead of a game console and also want to add on that if he wants merch of anything from something that's not by a small studio he just diy's copies of them and learns recipes of big food chains instead of going to the restaurants,as a black person he's obviously experienced tons of masculanization that was used as dehumanization too and again he wears a crop top and lipstick so i think it's obvious how he's decided to respond and i really doubt he'd be that close to Gwen and Miles if he thought softness and 'immaturity' are something that should be made fun of in other kids.What i'm trying to say is you guys are making Hobie out to be a trope instead of fully fleshed out representation with traits that actively contradict what he's actually like and ngl i find it insulting towards him that you guys actually think Hobie's enough of a supersized pissbaby to get whiny over not being a macho edgecase 24/7 even when the nigga literally killed a police chief at like,16 at the OLDEST,and as i will never stop saying:Canon femme,pink-coded,Dad Friend.As long as it's not shit that goes against actual punk rules,he'd do doing pretty much anything the Spiderband wants with them but they wouldn't to begin with anyway because by the time they'd gotten the chance to hang out normally he'd already radicalized them.Please,read multiple books,punk is a legit culture and pastel punks exist-Hi,it's me!!!-and i'm specifically talking about this because y'all the same slapping the punk label onto any edgelord who has disproven they are as like their arc even.THERE WE GO FINALLY Sorry,i have unmedicated adhd demons

[garbage--account]

IE villains's motivations through the games/seasons :

Franck Wintersea : "I am just a coward who fear for his life. I didn't wanted to be involved into those soccer shits in the first place"

Ray Dark : "soccer brought shame on my father and me by proxy. I grew bitter about it, and now i am evil"

Astram Schiller : "I'm blinded by the sadness of loss of my son, killed by someone unknown that wasn't punished for this therefore. The world must suffer for this injustice"

Wyles : "I am an opportunist. I saw I could become powerful while my boss was falling, I didn't hesitate seizing it"

Zoolan Rice : "your misery increases my money"

5th sector : "our goal is to establish communism into middleschool soccer, so that every child can taste success at least once"

Protocol Omega : "by erasing soccer through History, we prevent the existence of the most powerful terrorist organization in our time"

Nugen : "we didn't chose to be mutants with superpower, the adults chose to treat us like monsters"

Ixal Fleet : "Faram Orbius destroyed our planet. We want reperation"

Scale of Ares guy (i forgot his name) : "i plan to make some gifted children the ultimate supersoldiers at my command"

Orion Foundation : "we are a philanthropic organization that only longs to make the world a better place. But in the process, some evil will be necessary"

[nocreativityfornames]

I think a good way to avoid the kink posts made by porn blogs on the #obey me tag would be to use the #obey me! tag more, they don't use that one from what I've seen

I actually didn't know about that tag :0

It would help yeah, but it's hard because from skimming through it and comparing it to #obey me it seems like less ppl use it (and follow it), at the same time that some ppl who do use #obey me! don't use the other one?

it's like-- there are also people who don't use #obey me but use #obey me shall we date instead and vice versa

I just end up following both lmao (three now)

[goldensunset]

i don’t even use THAT many tags but i do use a lot of special ones that are rarely used by others/exclusively used by me and lemme just tell you it makes remembering all the right tags to use on any given post quite a hassle sometimes

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

I absolutely love our flag means death and I love many of the blogs I follow, yours included, but I don't ever want to truly join the fandom. The blatant racism is abysmal and just a strong reminder how toxic and racist fandom culture is in general. The fact half the show is about the romantic lead is the monster legend has made him out to be, and they even like him, yet their bias can't make them actuve see a moc has anything but dangerous. The fact people stanning and apologizing unironically his toxic second mate who is more fascinating as a bad guy than a good guy. Who throw tantrums when people literally point out things within the show that happen but also act like people are insane and toxic for thinking racial stereotypes are bad. How can they literally watch the show and agree with the villian that a character who's been told who's cried and had panic attacks and is a dude bro that he doesn't deserve nice things actually doesn't and is as scary and mean as everyone says he is. How can you think that and still think youre in the right. This show is so fun and positive. These people are so fucking insane over a dumbass goofy workplace "check out this booty im hawking whip my balls pissing on boots" pirate sitcom. It's weird!! It's so weird!!!

honestly anon, that's probably a good call. i'm personally still having a blast because i've gathered a nice little circle of mutuals and mutual-in-laws whose takes i trust and whose ofmd content isnt fucking abysmal. but even then i still see Incredibly Shitty Takes on the regular. even if i turned anon off i'd still see shit if i went into the tags (which i rarely do) or if i just. tagged a post with the character that post is about. it's fucking wild

you're completely correct tho. the amount of Missing The Point Of The Entire Goddamn Show that goes on in this fandom so that people can woobify their white fave is fucking exhausting. i don't blame you for not wanting to get involved

[abstractreign]

Start the new year off creative! Take this as a chance to ramble off some headcanons about your muse and their world! ( → unknown inquirer )

{ heya— thanks a bunch for this ask! i'm always down to expand on both my take on joshua and the lore and world-building of his own world; so here're a few pieces of information:

— the longer someone joshua knows sits around him for an extended period of time, the more likely it is he'll prop his phone up against them and use them as a phone stand.

— he can actually sing pretty well, but only if he's either extremely inebriated, or in the company of someone he's exceptionally comfortable with. otherwise, he can't bring himself to sing wholeheartedly— intentionally singing off-key or offbeat.

— aside from reading, or attempting to perfectly clear mobile rhythm game charts, another thing joshua often does to pass the time while out, is watching movies (and sometimes shows) on his phone. he always wears earphones while doing so, so one would have to ask him or get a look at his phone screen in order to know whatever it is he's watching; and what he is watching can range from episodes of anime series he enjoys to obscure, yet incredibly frightening horror films to culinary documentaries.

— locations within his version of Shibuya are referred to and known by the names designated to them in the second game — their real-world names — such as O-EAST instead of "A-East", Parco instead of "Molco", Mark City instead of "Pork City", and so on, along with the exclusion of 104 in this naming scheme.

— those on the UG — as well as on all other planes higher than the RG — don't bleed or bruise when injured; instead, they emit static exhaust from the wounded area, or experience visual distortions around it in a manner akin to monitor glitches. and for higher beings such as joshua and sanae, this is the only way in which their injuries manifest— even in the RG, if they don't think to conceal it with illusions of blood or other signs of injury.

[sporadicspores]

Spores and Stars

Chapter 1 - Acclimations

Chapter CW's: mentions of trauma, physical assault, potentially distressing trauma-related dialogue, night terrors/trauma related nightmares, grief, choking/asphyxiation (in a dream but still lol) A/N's in tags for background info

Vrisryn was irritable, to say the least. It had been over a hundred years since the elven druid had last felt any anxiety or fear even remotely close to the levels of stress which they’d endured throughout the last 24 hours. Circumstances beyond their control had become a theme in their life long before this, but a being abducted by mindflayers while on a routine stop in the city only to awaken on their crashing nautiloid? That definitely warranted a top 3 spot in the stories of unfortunate events which had become such a trademark experience for them.

Surviving the nautiloid crash and escaping illithid captivity was only the start to their newfound troubles. Other discomforts and concerns took form in the shape of discovering the fate that awaited those who become infected with illithid tadpoles, as well as the strange companions they had reluctantly picked up along the way—the abrasive but adept githyanki, Lae’zel; the untrusting & mysterious half-elf cleric, Shadowheart; the seemingly clumsy but endearing human wizard, Gale; and the pale, snide high-elf Astarion, who Vrisryn couldn’t help but notice hosted unnatural fangs and two inauspiciously placed puncture wounds along his neck. 

How subtle, they had thought to themselves when his dagger pressed along their neck–right before they rightfully headbutted him off of their person. Vampirism and the undead were not completely unfamiliar subjects for a druid of the Circle of Spores, and while the potentiality of being in proximity to such undead didn’t particularly phase the wild-elf, they couldn’t say for certain that the other party members would be as unbothered as they were by such a discovery. They chose to act oblivious to the matter for the time being. A notion for him to share and a trouble for another day, they figured after he had agreed to travel with the group. 

Vrisryn was not fond of being close to people, and traveling with others was a foreign concept altogether. Circle of Spore druids were particularly known for their preference of solitude, and even among their circle, Vrisryn was considered a recluse. Despite the wild-elf’s natural charisma, socializing was NOT something Vrisryn found enjoyable—let alone comfortable. They considered such things a necessary nuisance. Between the circumstantial & personal risks that forming close bonds carried for them and the fact that they had spent roughly the last century relatively alone in the wilderness, they had little reason to welcome any opportunities to grow close to people. Any form of socializing or interpersonal connection was something that they had learned to allow only when absolutely necessary.  

Vrisryn had no interest in close bonds with others. The bonds they had forged with nature and the wilderness had sustained them more than well enough the last century. Companionship with people was not something they had sought for since their youth; connection and intimacy had long-since been cast out of their mind and heart, believing that such frivolities to have been privileges long-since spent from the past. Even when it came to acquaintances within their Druidic Circle or work, they kept most exchanges to solely business-related matters; where they could name many associates, they would be hard pressed to claim any being as something even remotely akin to a friend–short of potentially Psilofyr, whom they refused to acknowledge as such. 

No—the druid had not felt any sense of true connection or understanding since the few years they had spent recovering from and adjusting to their spellscar in a myconoid colony. They had found themselves in the care of the strange creatures and the mad-mushroom deity after the traumatic loss of their prior life to the Spellplague which infected their homeland during the Year of Blue Fire. Where it stood now, they had grown to prefer solitude, and worked intentionally to maintain that detachment from others. It was a choice that had served them well both in their heart and with their druidic work. 

They didn’t see it as a sacrifice, but rather, as an act of acceptance of their own fate. Death had made it clear where they stood in the story that was their life. And who were they to disrupt nature’s holy balance by protesting death’s decision, let alone for the sake of their own selfish emotions or desires? The bitter acceptance of their circumstances had taken a long time to adopt after they had recovered from their creeping madness, but once it settled into their soul, they found them disconnected from the reverence they once held over the living, as well as life itself. Being invested in other people was a luxury and a distraction that Vrisryn could no longer afford. They had come to find that their indifferent attitude towards subjects such as death, violence, or tragedy—as well as their general interest in the macabre—tended to fend off most that dared to seek connection with them, anyway. It was easier to remain on the outskirts, misunderstood, and drifting along nature’s intended course.

Now, these damned tadpoles and their ability to psychically link any fellow infected threatened all of the security and familiarity Vrisryn had previously found through isolation.

So: irritable would be one way to describe Vrisryn’s mood as they settled into camp. The first day of traveling with others had been treacherous and wearing. Between the tadpoles themselves, the forced acquaintances (not to mention the subsequent bickering amongst them–who knew less than a handful of strangers could find one another so disagreeable), the skirmishes within the decaying temple, and the literal skeletal withered freak that had crawled out of the sarcophagus in the crypt underneath? It was safe to say that exhaustion had crept up on the druid faster than ever.

Vrisryn was also clearly weaker than they had been when they were kidnapped; the effects of their newfound tadpole infection wiping away much of their prior strength and stamina. Some cantrips and basic first level spells were all the druid could manage to produce at the moment, and it was a miracle that their Spellscar wasn’t already rearing its head given the circumstances. By sunset, a migraine had seeped its dreadful way into Vrisryn’s skull. Whether it was from their Spellscar, the tadpole’s squirming, or sheer stress and exhaustion was unclear—but it had become disorienting enough that the druid had demanded they make camp for the evening far earlier than they otherwise would wish to.

Thankfully, reprieve was found nearby at a scenic spot along the nearby river. The druid had felt suddenly lighter upon finding the idyllic strip of land, and its vantage point and the stretch of woods separating it from the main roads made it easy to feel safe within. As safe as one could hope to feel given the circumstances, at least. They had begun the work of setting up a firepit and bedrolls before any further input from their traveling companions could be made, short of an abrupt noise of displeasure from Lae’zel. Such expressions had become white noise by that point due to the frequency of such exclamations.

Vrisryn adorned a smug look while taking in the sight of their traveling companions settling into camp for the night, recalling how much they had each begged them to move on and away from the scene while they searched desperately for their own headpiece and armor once outside of the decrepit temple. Each companion had exclaimed that the search was for naught, and each had shut their mouth as Vrisryn continued to procure bags and effects that belonged to each of them. In true nature, they had found their belongings last, after four hours of increasingly frantic searching – three hours past finding Lae’zel’s, Gale’s, Asterion’s, and Shadowheart’s own possessions. It was always satisfying for Vrisryn to watch others eat their own words around them.

Afterwards, Vrisryn wandered aside the river, leaving without a word in search of a shred of privacy as their exhausted party members hitched tents, organized camp supplies, and unpacked their personal belongings from bags nearby the fire.Hiding behind the mass of rock that separated this stretch of the river from the eyes of the rest of the camp, they stared into clear water at their own dirty, knackered reflection. The druid ran a hand against the top of the cold, calm river, just barely grazing it as they said a tender thanks to the universe for the reprieve of the nature around them. Vrisryn could hear the muffled, occasional banter and bickering of their traveling companions nearby; but it was mostly blocked out by the gentle babbling sound of the river mixing with the stream of thoughts bombarding their mind. Everything felt incredibly raw after this day, and they found themselves overwhelmed with the unfamiliar sensations and the sheer weight of the emotions of it all. Their lungs and stomach felt tight and tense, and the migraine had become nothing short of excruciating. They weren’t adjusted to feeling so strongly about anything these days. Their anxiety built as the implications of the current circumstances sank into their reality.

It was most common for them to experience the symptoms and side effects from their Spellscar at night, particularly after stressful days. That being said, resting within the eyes and ears of others tonight was a huge risk. Despite their fatigue, Vrisryn worried over whether they’d be able to find any rest this evening. Typically, they were still able to restore energy from trancing as any other elf; but ever since they had retained their spellscar, they had discovered that their body required the type of sleep that human and half-elves needed. Often, this would occur after their more arduous travels, unnerving experiences, or grave wounds. They hoped to the hells and back in spite of the obvious odds that their body would not require such deep vulnerability tonight, equally fearful of if they’d even be able to settle enough to trance. If they did find reprieve only to wake their newfound companions with any of the side-effects of their Spellscar, who knows how those around them would react to such a thing? Especially given the events that had already unfolded through the day—they found it easy to assume that the best case scenario in that situation would result in being abandoned.

Usually the druid would be thankful for a chance at abandonment and its promise of sweet isolation, but the circumstances were too dire to take such risks right now. Despite their longings for solitude, they needed all the brainpower they could get if they wished to find help with this whole tadpole problem and refrain from turning into a mindflayer. There was power in numbers. Still, they all had little reason to trust one another, and these new associates would likely see no reason to stick around with someone who held such baggage and risk.

It could potentially even be fatal to show such vulnerability; particularly, in the case of the blade-happy githyanki who would likely mistake the unfamiliar Spellscar symptoms as proof that Vrisryn was transforming into an illithid and react far before clarification could be given. Astarion had all but started their introduction with a blade to Vrisryn’s throat, so they couldn’t imagine he’d be particularly willing to stick around at any sign of further risk or burden either. Though, they also felt he could be just self-absorbed enough to completely overlook any effects they’d endure through the night. Shadowheart and Gale seemed the most fond of the druid at this point, and while they had sensed a kindred spirit of sorts in each, they by no means felt they knew either well enough to place even the slightest bit of trust in their character. Abandonment was still far more likely than acceptance, and despite their nature, their wisdom of the daunting odds stacked against them made it impossible to justify any permanent disbanding from their companions for the foreseeable future. 

It’s also not as though Vrisryn could fault their companions if they did react that way in that event. The druid wasn’t particularly fond of this newfound situation either, nor trusting of those embarking on the journey with them–they too would be equally willing to cut off or cull any signs of danger or unneeded weight among the others at this point. Though, that could be the exhaustion speaking more than their actual beliefs or morals. They weren’t squeamish to the idea of violence any more than they savoured such measures. But any way they spun it, they found themselves at the same conclusion that these were still far too dire of circumstances to throw caution to the wind.

Vrisryn cupped their hands beneath the cold water, splashing it along their face as they stared out across the river, still lost in thought. The scent of vittles cooking in the fire wafted from nearby had grounded them back to the present somewhat. The sky was darkened now, with only a sliver of burnt orange-daylight left along the horizon as the speckles of stars and a bright, full moon washed across the sky overhead. The elf exhaled before stripping from their scale mail armor and washed themselves off quickly in the river, dampening their hair in the process but not bothering to clean it. Afterwards, they slipped into simple, comfortable threads that had been picked off the belongings of those they’d fought earlier in the day. Death’s blessing serves life’s purpose yet again, they thought to themselves reverently. Blessings be to the eternal cycle; may the spores of rebirth favor the fallen.

Turning from the corner of the rock, Vrisryn all but jumped out of their skin at the unexpected sight of the aforementioned skeletal enigma they had freed from the dank crypt earlier in the day standing nearby. The undead's blackened eyes stared intently at the druid, obviously having something he wished to say. Oh hells, they thought tiredly as they shook their head and sighed once more, approaching the creature with their arms crossed and a lifted eyebrow.

“We meet again, as predicted,” the undead greeted in its strange diction. “I shall be here in thy camp, for whenever thou hast need of my services.”

“Not to be rude, but… what exactly are you?” Vrisryn replied somewhat wearily.

“There are many answers to that question. None are important.”

“It’s important to me. Nature has an order, and while I have no issue with undead… Skeletons aren’t supposed to be able to talk.”

“Correct.” 

Vrisryn squinted in displeasure.

“…Are you going to explain further?”

“No.” His response was firm, with a tone cautioning to not press the matter further. 

Vrisryn narrowed their eyes at the undead before letting the subject drop with a roll of the eyes, too exhausted from the day to press the matter. He clearly wasn’t any threat, at the very least.

“What kind of services can a skeleton even offer?”

“Should thou or any of thy compatriots perish, I will cleave soul to body once more.”

This piqued Vrisryn’s attention immediately. A flicker of something between hope, excitement, and dread settled into their stomach at the prospect of such magic. The ability to retether the dead to life again, despite the circumstances? It was frowned upon within their circle to seek such channels, as it was considered an offense akin to stealing food from the mold and mycelium they worshiped. Yet, a part of Vrisryn’s heart had always hoped to find one capable of such skills… after all, if one was capable of such a feat, was there a chance that he could…?

“That’s incredibly powerful magic. Why is it so easy for you?” They questioned, failing to mask their obvious intrigue.

“Because it is my calling,” the withered man in front of them retorted matter-of-factly. “There is little else to explain.”

“You mentioned a cost. What is it?”

“A matter of coin, 200 gold, to be precise.”

“Could you… revive others, besides the companions I carry now?”

An unreadable expression passed over the wrinkled, misshapen face in front of them. Something between disappointment and understanding, perhaps even pity–though, Vrisryn themselves could not decipher the look. 

“No. The threads of fate have already woven thy story; I shall only offer aid to thy chapters' future, not those of thou’s past.”

Reality quickly settled back in where the flicker of hope had taken hold moments ago. Disappointed but not surprised, Vrisryn’s expression sobered again. They nodded curtly, wincing as their head pounded harder with the motion, tadpole squirming behind their eye, before walking away from the undead man and back towards camp. There was nothing else to say on the matter, and the being didn’t seem privy to share much else at the moment anyway.

Returning in search of food, Vrisryn found Gale was standing in front of the campfire, clearly brooding. Each companion had set up their personal spots rather efficiently. To the side, Lae’Zel had somehow managed to create or procure a whetstone and was sharpening her blade, visibly irate in her own right. Shadowheart seemed deep in a prayer or perhaps meditation, and Astarion had buried his face within some large, dusty book. Vrisryn approached Gale first, though they had only done so to obtain some of the food nearby, not for conversation.

Just as they came from behind the wizard, he let out a deep exhale, and spoke:

“Go to Hell.”

“And a good evening to you, too.” Vrisryn answered sarcastically, bemused by the unexpected greeting as they reached for a serving of their supplies. 

“Hah! You’re a good sport,” Gale responded, before beginning his tirade. 

“Go to Hell. An everyday expression. So trivial, it’s almost meaningless—but we’ve seen Hell. It’s real. And it isn’t trivial.”

Vrisryn watched the flames in silence, taking a bite of the roasted sausage and carrots they’d obtained, unsure of what to say or where this exchange was leading. Still, they stood watching and listening to Gale intently, enticed by his sullen remarks.

“Devils, dragons, mindflayers — they used to be abstracts. Pictures on a piece of paper… What a difference a day makes. Now, we have tadpoles slithering through our heads like carnivorous foeti,” Gale turned now to face the druid, heavy and worried brown eyes locking with theirs. “That’s not abstract.”

There was a profound sadness and lethargy in the man’s expression that Vrisryn could tell was borne far before the illithid experiences they shared. Despite this, the flickers of orange from the nearby fire across his face painted the wizard in a charming light, Vrisryn noted. He had a comforting, charming visage, in spite of his pessimistic words and downtrodden aura. At least everyone in this little entourage is easy on the eyes… they thought shamelessly. Little victories, I suppose.

“We’re in deep shit, Gale; I can’t argue with you on that. Brooding will get us nowhere. Action will,” they finally offered, unable to spare any words of real comfort or reassurance at the moment amidst the waves of pain shooting through them. There was a moment of weighted silence between them once more as they both stared at the fire.

“This ballet of flames invites reflection,” Gale replied after some time. “But point made; you’re right. Let’s be up with the lark – find a healer before the wee one gets hungry.” He tapped his head with a smirk, emphasizing exactly who the wee one in question was. Vrisryn winced again as their tadpole squirmed almost in response, causing further tension in their sore skull. They felt dizzy for a moment from the pain, but if Gale had noticed anything, he made no sign of it. His back was now turned to them as he cast his thoughtful gaze silently towards the fire.

Behind them, Vrisryn noticed that Shadowheart had stood up from her prayer at some point during their conversation. The half-elf was eyeing the two of them suspiciously, though she turned her head away as soon as Vrisryn went to meet her eyes. Putting aside her seemingly aloof and untrusting nature, Shadowheart had earned Vrisryn’s trust the most thus far. Clearly the feeling wasn’t yet mutual, but Vrisryn wasn’t particularly bothered by that. Maybe it was the druid’s bias for clerics due to the deep gnome–Smilvi–who had helped nurse them both physically and emotionally, during and after their creeping madness in the Underdark. 

Favoritism for clerics aside, Shadowheart had proven fairly trustworthy and sound of mind with strong, individual morals that the druid could respect. Regardless of her icy exterior, they had gotten the impression that Shadowheart harbored a secret softness, as well as some sense of care or favor for them. At the minimum, she had at least been kind & respectful. She had gone as far as to show concern over Vrisryn’s well-being when the decision to recruit Lae'zel was made. Even if it was only due to their help on the nautiloid or a need to not face the odds ahead alone, the consideration was welcomed. Plus, they could understand her wariness and respected her obvious affinity for privacy. 

Vrisryn walked in the cleric’s direction despite the beckoning of the nearby bedroll they’d laid out for the night. They figured they might as well make a round along the camp to check in with all of their company before settling down for the evening. At the very least, doing so reduced the risk of being bothered by one of them with questions or concerns later. Vrisryn doubted they’d be particularly understanding towards any disruption of the limited rest they’d be getting tonight. 

“What were you two talking about?” Shadowheart probed in an accusatory tone as they approached.

“What do you mean?” Vrisryn replied, slightly taken aback by the cleric’s tone. That wasn’t a question they were expecting. 

“You and Gale.” She clarified, casting a scowl toward the man’s direction. His back was still turned to them, lost in thought near the fire.

“We were just discussing the next steps.”

“I see,” She said, pausing for a moment to cast her glare back towards the wizard. “I’d be careful with Gale.”

“You don’t trust Gale?” Vrisryn asked, an eyebrow raised in question. The man hadn’t particularly struck them as fallacious or deceptive by any means, let alone given them any reason for concern.

“He’s a wizard. All they care about is power.” 

“Well, I wasn’t confiding in anyone. I was just talking,” the druid replied defensively, shifting their weight and placing a hand against their hip with a look. The abrasive and negative attitude radiating off each member of their party was beginning to wear on their already thin patience, and they didn’t care for others questioning their judgement. 

“So am I,” Shadowheart retorted coyly. “If we’re to survive, we need to trust each other… You seem reliable. I think you know how important it is that we find someone who can cure us. Best if we focus on that.”

“Let’s not abandon all caution,” Vrisryn warned. “This is unfamiliar territory, and there is power in numbers, Shadowheart.”

“Caution is a luxury we don’t have,” Shadowheart sighed. There was a glimmer of approval and understanding in her eyes at the response of Vrisryn’s words, however. “Let’s rest and wake up at first light.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Vrisryn replied as they walked away, shifting their attention now towards the pale elf with his head buried in a book. As they approached, Astarion clapped the book shut and tossed it on a nearby pillow. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” he started.

Oh, here we fucking go, Vrisryn thought, sighing and preparing themselves for this nights next batch of draining social interaction. Couldn’t they just get a short, simple exchange with one person tonight? Whatever was coming from this exchange seemed to hold promise of being particularly tiring, even more so than Shadowheart’s distrust and Gale’s sorrowful droning. Not to mention that they still had Lae’zel to check in with. 

“And I think there’s something I should tell you,” Astarion continued in a lulling tone. “Nothing big or terrible, just a… small, little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.” 

The pale elf moved his hands and shifted his weight in nervous contrast to his inflection as he talked, flourishing the words with his body language. Vrisryn assumed it was an attempt at either some sort of seduction, or perhaps just some form of self-soothing. His anxiety was palpable, and Vrisryn could tell he was struggling to figure out how to approach this matter delicately. If they hadn’t been so exhausted and irate, they likely would have provided more in the way of encouragement or support. It was obvious this wasn’t comfortable for him, but Vrisryn was far too spent to offer such grace to these strangers tonight. Instead, they stared directly at the elf with a firm gaze and a growing annoyance while awaiting his confession, wishing for him to get on with it and spit it out.

“It’s just that I happen to be a — ah, what’s the best way to put this…? …A vampire? A-ha!” His gray-white eyebrows were raised and pinched in anticipation, and an almost shy smirk accompanied his nervous laughter. His eyes looked similar to those of a cornered animal, waiting to see if they needed to bite.

“Well… yes. Obviously.” Vrisryn replied dryly, expression appearing unwaveringly detached and disinterested. Astarions eyes widened for a moment, brows raising, clearly taken aback by the druid’s indifference. He cleared his throat before dropping the expression and replying:

“R-right. Well. Glad we got that out of the way! So… Was there anything else?”

“Hmm…” Vrisryn pondered for a moment, looking up and to the side as their mouth pinched to one corner in thought. They fiddled with the ball of their lip ring between their teeth as they thought.

“I’ve read some texts on vampirism while studying within my circle, but I’ve always wondered how much of it was accurate. Many of the script on the subject is either riddled with obvious bias, or baseless smut. So, I’m curious – how does one become a vampire, exactly?”

“Oh, it’s simple,” Astarion drawled, still fidgeting around in those oddly flamboyant, fluid-like movements as he spoke. Something about the motions amused Vrisryn.

“Just find a vampire that will drink your blood and turn you into a vampire spawn: their obedient puppet. In theory, the next step is to drink their blood. Once you’ve done that, you’re free and a true vampire.”

“In theory?” Vrisryn probed.

“People think that the biggest threat to a vampire is a cleric with a stake,” his eyes shot to Shadowheart with a look of distaste before locking back to Vrisryn’s topaz and green eyes.

“It’s not. The biggest threat to a vampire is another vampire. They’re scheming, paranoid, power-hungry beasts,” Astarion bent at the waist here, leaning in towards Vrisryn at this point. His red eyes lowered and appeared hungry, as if to further illustrate his warning, and his arms spread around him in a sort of shrug as he continued.

“So, why would any vampire give up control over a spawn to create a competitor? Trust me. It doesn’t happen.”

“Interesting… Tell me some more about yourself.” Vrisryn demanded, their interest suddenly whetted by the first bits of vulnerability offered by any of their companions that proved to be a distraction from the tadpole still thrashing in their skull.

Astarion was entertaining to speak to so far, and somehow Vrisryn found that talking to him didn’t unnerve them as much as talking to the other party members did. Possibly, it was just a side effect of the high-elf’s apparent comfort at hearing his own voice in social exchanges–or, it could simply be because vampirism was also particularly intriguing to Vrisryn. Vampires had always seemed to them to be a new, potentially even superior form of being that tiptoed between nature’s lines of both life and death. They had been curious about the conditions and effects of vampirism since they first read about it long ago, and Astarion’s willingness to share with them had pushed aside their usual reluctance for conversation for the moment. However, Astarion’s tone had shifted apathetically and defensively at their probing. 

“What’s to tell? I was sired by a vampire named Cazador. Everything before that is so long ago it’s ancient history. And everything that came after? Well, I’d rather not reflect on it.”

“You must remember some part of your life before that?” Vrisryn questioned, unsatisfied with his lustlacker response.

“I was a magistrate, working to keep the peace in Baulder’s Gate. Imprisoning trouble makers– that kind of thing. I can’t remember much, truth be told. Centuries of torment will do that to you.”

Vrisryn had scoffed internally at the idea of this man as a judge; it was certainly believable given his attitude. Their judgment quickly resided though, as they related all too well to that last statement, and nodded once in response before continuing with their questions. 

“How were you turned?”

“I was attacked. A gang of vagrants-a tribe of wandering ‘Gur’— took issue with a ruling I’d made. They beat me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me; to give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer.” 

Astarion looked down at the ground, his mind seeming to trail off somewhere else as he continued. 

“It was only afterwards I realized just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”

“Well,” Vrisryn responded somewhat uncomfortably. The air had turned a bit too vulnerable for their tastes now, and the bitterly sad expression on the pretty spawn left them feeling unsettled. 

“I appreciate your transparency. It, uh, may be best to keep this between us for now though, yeah? I had already figured that to be the case, but I don’t know how the others would react to the news of a vampire in our camp right now… everyone seems on edge tonight, and tomorrow will be even longer than today. We can discuss it more later; for now, let’s just focus on recharging.”

Vrisryn walked away without waiting for a response, eyes locked instead on the nearby bedroll and campfire awaiting them. However, just past the promise of reprieve, Lae’zel’s eyes burned disgruntled holes into Vrisryn’s person, causing them to shudder ever so slightly. There was no denying the gith’s menacing and intimidating aura. With another forlorn sigh, they moved towards the githyanki and prepared themselves for (hopefully) the last interaction of the evening. Vrisryn could already assume what the exchange would entail: complaints about the decision to make camp, an urging to hurry along to this crèche she kept mentioning, and a heavy dose of criticism over anything perceived to be unaligned with the githyanki’s desires.

“A monster forms inside us, and you think to be idle?” Lae’zel began to chide. “I knew your kind to be fragile, but I didn’t foresee the severity. Cease your chatter and be quick about your rest. We must locate a crèche.” “This crèche notion of yours - are you sure it’s our only option?”

“You would doubt me? I do not trust a common healer to extract a ghaik tadpole without killing its host. At a crèche, a ghustil may cleanse us - SAFELY.”

“Still,” Vrisryn countered, too tired to question what in the realms either a ghustil or crèche was.

“We’re hardly going to turn while taking a rest… are we?”

“The parasites inside us do not rest. Even as we speak, they defile our brains and warp our bones.” The strange, yellow-green irises paused for a moment, taking stock of the seemingly fragile elf in front of them before begrudgingly accepting that their alien companion indeed would need rest before they would be able to prove themselves to be of any further use to the githyanki. She flicked a hand as if to discard the thought from the air between them.

“Take your rest. I will stand watch. Should a single tentacle split your skull, I will not hesitate to end you.” Lae’zel retaliated. 

“Well, thank Ao for that.” Vrisryn muttered as they strode wearily towards the bedroll by the fire, settling into it and laying their cloak across them as a blanket. They were thankful to finally be alone with their thoughts as silence settles into the camp around them, leaving only the sounds of nature's ambience filling the cool night air.

At least no one has to worry about being bitten by the local oversized-mosquito tonight with Lae’zel keeping watch…

Vrisryn had anticipated restlessness and insomnia when they finally laid in the bedroll, especially with Lae’zel’s promise of taking watch resulting in a perpetual feeling of being watched by a predator among the rest of the camp. The druid had turned back and forth uncomfortably for hours, the tadpole exasperating the pain in their head. However, exhaustion had ultimately won over both their anxiety and the tension of their migraine. The conversations with their party had drained them far more than initially anticipated, and their body slipped easily into a meditative trance once the comfort of the campfire and stars moving by overhead lulled their eyelids shut. 

In their partially-awake state, the day’s events replayed themselves clearly and precisely. The disorientation and confusion upon awakening on the strange, fleshy nautiloid ship. The struggle to land the crashing monstrosity amongst devils, mind devourers, imps and illithids which they encountered alongside Shadowheart and Lae’zel. The intensity of the crash after; a mindflayer’s burning, hateful eyes the moment before they fell from the ship and were knocked unconscious; Shadowheart’s strange reluctance to share any information about the strange artifact she clung to. The exchange of finding Gale stuck in his portal, and the simple amusement that had stemmed from snarkily slapping his hand before helping him out of his portal; freeing Lae’zel from the tiefling’s trap, despite her refusal to thank them; exploring the abandoned temple on the hillside, and the fight with those who had taken hold within. Then, the experience of meeting Astarion.

Unbeknownst to Vrisryn, their enervation had caused them to slip into a full slumber by this point. While their mind replayed the event, their subconscious twisted from a mere trance into a full sleep as a dream subtly wrapped around their mind. 

“Hurry, I’ve got one of those brain-things cornered!” Astarion called out from the cliffside in their dreamstate. “There, in the grass. You can kill it, can’t you? Like you killed the others?”

“Kill it yourself - you look capable enough.” Vrisryn felt their lips form dryly, mouth parched and chapped from the dehydration and stress of the day, the scent and taste of smoke from the crash overpowering their other senses. They were still wounded from the last three “brain things” they had encountered in the ship below and didn’t feel particularly inclined to help any more stragglers along the road. They were hungry, thirsty, lost, and irritable, and had shrugged carelessly at the pale elf before they turned to continue along the path in the opposite direction. As they moved, they thought to themselves how the dirt looked suddenly and unnaturally fluid; strange. Different. Wrong… What’s happening?

“Oh, and I was so hoping for a kind soul. Well, not to worry!” Astarion spoke snidely. 

In a blink, Vrisryn felt a cold arm hook around their neck and yank them in a swift motion to the dirt alongside the stranger. They struggled against him with a grunt, head panging from the impact, and attempted to sit up as a dagger was pressed near their throat in retaliation of the movement. The rouge had used a knee to pin down their weight near their calf, locking them firmly and uncomfortably in his grasp. Vrisryn glared from under him nastily as they felt the same flash of panic overtake their whole body as it had earlier; this sensation was familiar, and while few would be calm with a blade pressed to their throat, Vrisryn had a uniquely personal reason to feel anxiety at the situation. The thought crossed their mind that this seemed far too vivid of a sensation for a normal trance, but before much more could be considered on a subject, they were pulled back to the dream.

They felt their head cloud with the sudden flashback to the last time they’d been in this situation; this was a stranger, but then, it was someone important. Someone close. A swell formed in their throat, which began to close around itself as their heartbeat quickened and a cold sweat broke across their flesh, body shifting into fight-or-flight. The slightest noise akin to a whimper left them as they struggled against him, attempting to roll out from underneath him quickly; but their movements were too frantic, too predictable. Astarion pressed them down more firmly with a hushed “Tsk!”, bringing his face closer against their lowered, pointed ear. 

“Shhh, not a word. Let’s try to keep that lovely neck of  yours in one piece, hmm?” He lulled, his breath and lips brushing ever so slightly above their ear.

“And YOU - keep your distance,” he spat towards Gale and Shadowheart, who were watching the events unfold with their hands atop their weapons. “No need for this to get messy.”

The events began to warp here; and deeper in Vrisryn’s subconscious, they felt the offputting sense that this was no longer simply a trance’s replication of their day, but rather something else entirely. If it had still been a trance, Shadowheart would have interjected here before Vrisryn inevitably headbutted the vampire off of their person and discussed things more civilly. Regardless, the subconscious awareness that this was not how the events had actually transpired did little to rouse Vrisryn from the distorted sleep. Instead, the pale elf in their mind nicked a part of Vrisryn’s neck, causing a pearl of blood to trickle down their throat as the features on the pretty elf’s face began to blur and morph unnaturally.

“Though, making a mess seems to be your specialty, darling. And to simply give you freedom is certainly more generous you’ve been towards others, isn’t it? Even death would be far too merciful for you, you wretched traitor.” 

Vrisryn’s heart sank as their eyes attempted to focus on the shifting presence over them; Astarion’s curled, white locks had changed shape, sprawling far past his shoulders, morphed and shifting to a familiar walnut shade; his red irises now became amber, and previously palled skin was tanned and peppered with freckles and thick, plush fur. The voice speaking to them had shifted as it spoke as well. It was familiar, but different – deep, loud, and certainly not Astarion’s.

Treolam, their mind cried in realization. Their dream self had formed the name around their mouth to speak it at the same time, but no noise came out with the movement. Wetness pricked at the inner corners of their eyes, and their blood ran cold.

“What could you possibly have to say to me, my sweet slaughterer; my corrosive consort! Come back to tell me how my elders were right about you and your allegiance!?” 

The apparition spoke harshly, but it sounded crude and particularly corrupt among the warm, playful, almost loving tone of the satyr’s voice. Tears began to spill from the druid’s eyes at the sight of him–in the dream as well as the waking world–and they struggled against the grasp atop them, reaching in an attempt to place a hand along the man’s bearded face to no avail. The pressure atop them was sharp and heady, and Vrisryn made a pathetic gasp as the blade cut a bit more into their neck, leaving little rivers of blood spilling from their skin. Suddenly, a thick ooze began to crawl across amber eyes above them in twisting, thorny patterns; first appearing as a bright-blue but then shifting to black, darkening them. A warped, wide smile was plastered on his otherwise pained expression. 

“I thought you wanted to see me again, Vris! Do you know the trouble I went through to find you here? Amuremsis bet me I couldn’t find you again, and I bet you thought you lost me again, huh? Oh, little love, I told you before! So long as the fey runs wild, I will always be able to find a way back to you.” 

Vrisryn choked at the reminder of these words; the precious and private promise he had sworn them in their youth was now being twisted and contorted in a foul meaning by this apparition. Yet, it felt so real; he felt so real. Vrisryn could smell the woody musk of him, feel the wirey yet plush fluffs of fur on his arms, limbs and torso against their flesh, see every freckle and callous against his leathery skin. Their heart ached to hold him, to kiss him, even in spite of his cruel words and the blade against their throat. 

“Treolam, I–”

“Shhh shshsh, you have to listen, little lamb, NO SPEAKING,” he interrupted, dropping the blade in favor to wrap both his hands around Vrisryn’s neck in a chokehold that silenced them with a whimper. The placement of his grip threatened to block and even crush their airways completely, lest they remain still where they laid in the crook of the satyr’s elbow. 

“It’s so important you follow these instructions! You don’t want to lose me again, do you? You still want and trust me, DON’T YOU?” 

The entirety of his eyes had glazed over with a slick blackness now; tears of blood streamed down his face and dripped along Vrisryn’s cheek as he placed himself directly atop them, pinning them fully into the earth beneath them, which had become the consistency of a thick fluid and sank beneath their weight. It had the same sensation of sinking into mud or quicksand. He removed one hand which now was smeared in Vrisryn’s blood, replacing it with the dagger once more before issuing his commandments.

“You can never forget me, you can never forget what you did. YOU killed us, all of us! You left me, and you failed to protect anything you loved. You always will, you know this. STOP LYING TO YOURSELF THAT IT WAS OUT OF YOUR CONTROL! You killed us all–your kin, your clan, your home. You broke us! You destroyed us! You ABANDONED us! You let me and Amuremsis go–you should never forgive yourself for what happened. You can never escape this. We will haunt you fore-”

Suddenly, the crackle of a firelog buckling into the embers of the dying fire back in reality jolted Vrisryn from their slumber. Their eyes shot open, and for a second they remained still and rigid, as if the apparition from the dream still had them in his chokehold. Cold air highlighted the wet tears streaking their cheeks, and their chest moved with heavy, short breaths. After just a moment they realized that it had been a nightmare, and their hands shot towards the sides of their head frantically; feeling for the all-too-familiar halo of the static, icy sensation which they’d come to associate with the activation of their spellscar. Their fingers met only flesh though, and they exhaled the breath they had subconsciously held with relief before glancing around camp to get their bearings. Lae’zel was still up, keeping watch as promised, though she had been turned towards the surrounding woods rather than towards the party at the moment. No one else was awake yet. 

Luck is on my side tonight, they thought. 

They couldn’t have rested for more than three hours. Typically, they would want to trance for another hour or two to feel fully rested–but despite the nightmare which always accompanied their body’s affliction with sleep, they found themselves fully awake. Their migraine had faded to a dull, hazy feeling, which was uncomfortable but bearable. Their body still felt heavy, though Vrisryn felt that had far more to do with their nerves about being in the company of others and the tadpoles in their head than anything else. The others were still asleep, and based on the coloring of the sky and the stars’ placements, dawn was not far off–two hours at most.

Regardless, Vrisryn knew rest of any sort would be lost to them now, and they opted instead to take this chance for some well-deserved solitude before their companions awoke and their adventure began once again. Pulling the sack of camp supplies close, they reached for another log to add to the dwindling fire, as well as some bread and cheese to curb their appetite. They wiped the remnants of the nightmare induced cold sweat off with their shirt before switching back into their armour and walking to where Lae’zel stood watch. 

“Do githyanki not need sleep? I can watch until everyone else is up, if you want to rest a little.” Vrisryn offered genuinely, their raspy voice morphing into a yawn at the end of the question. Though it was extremely subtle, Vrisryn could detect the faintest expression of exhaustion on Lae’zel. 

“Tch’! There is no need for rest in the astral plane–sleep is considered a triviality in a realm where time ceases to exist.“ A small sigh escaped her mouth after the claim, giving proof to her own exhaustion.

"Though I admit that it seems my body will need sleep in this Fay-run. I accept your offer; but do not think me to be vulnerable. Even in sleep, I shall wake to tear you from navel to neck should you provoke such a need.”

“I don’t think anyone here wishes to raise your ire, Lae’zel. Go - rest. I’ll just be scouting the area nearby.” The druid shifted into wild shape before Lae'zel could respond, assuming the form of a red-coated wolf.

Lae’zel had looked befuddled for a moment, and Vrisryn considered that they may have never witnessed someone use wild shape before. Regardless, she walked away with another “Tch,” before settling into a bedroll within her tent. Vrisryn was starting to become more and more unbothered by the githyanki’s mannerisms and threats, figuring it was just the only way that she knew how to communicate. She was not the first gith Vrisryn had encountered, and what little Vrisryn could recall of the Githyanki’s alien culture was not for the weak of heart or stomach. The others the druid had met first hand were far more provokable and venomous than Lae’zel seemed, at least. 

It would be unfair to expect their companion to be anything but what they are. As they had told Shadowheart at the start of this, dangerous company was exactly what you needed in a fight – and Vrisryn had no qualms with the blunt or brutal nature of their companion, given what they appeared to be up against. It would just take time to grow accustomed to such aggressive reception, especially during such early hours. 

The elf turned their attention now to their surroundings, sniffing the air in their new form. The heightened senses from the wolf-shape flooded their mind with various sensations and impulses. No danger, though; nothing but prey. The instinct of their wolf form took over, and the higher parts of their mind figured they’d earned some down time to enjoy the canine form. It was comforting to be in wild shape, blending into nature fully and thoughts of tadpoles, illithids, healers, and the uncertain road ahead blurring as a new purpose took over: a hunt. The wolf was easy to be lost to, and Vrisryn particularly favored this form when they felt the urge to run. 

It was the perfect form to take for this morning, where the need to vacate their current surroundings and the company inhabiting it had itched as uncomfortably under their skin as the tadpole did from behind their eye. Even in wild shape, they could feel it; though, the instinctual pull towards the hares, boar, and deer inhabiting the woods around the camp and the hunger in their stomach helped to detach from the sensation and its accompanying thoughts. Wide, heavy paws hit the ground in a full sprint and hot air panted from the canines mouth. A flood of scent washed in, and in spite of the worries that Vrisryn hosted, the wolf version of them hopped around delightedly, a playfulness taking over the form they now inhabited.

The druid spent the next hour and a half hunting in the woods surrounding the camp; though, they released each prey they caught. They felt no hunger for food, only for relief this morning. In wolf form, it was easy to let worry melt away and enjoy the innately optimistic nature it offered. They had nearly lost track of time frolicking with a fawn when they noticed the orange sunlight creeping halfway up the horizon. With a whine and a yawn, they shook their thick coat and stretched their form lazily. They allowed themselves a quick roll in the dirt, and after a few playful sneezes as well as a friendly nuzzle against the fawn they'd been playing hide-and-seek with, they began their trek towards camp. For the first time since they'd embarked that morning, they took their time walking along the woods.

Everyone back at camp had woken and began packing their belongings, eating, and bickering once more. Vrisryn's wolf-heart panged with an urge to run away, to return to the solitude and comfort of the woods nearby; but their higher logic still won in spite of it. As they returned towards their belongings, Shadowheart caught sight of them first; and to Vrisryn's surprise, the cleric gasped, grasping at one of her hands suddenly and looking utterly... frightened.

Granted, Vrisryn did forget that not everyone was used to wild animals just walking up on them. They shook themselves out of the wild shape, lifting themselves from the dirt and brushing off the debris before locking eyes with a now very-relieved Shadowheart.

"Sorry - I forgot you hadn't seen me in that form yet. I always forget that most people are intimidated by the presence of wild animals," they contended.

Shadowheart threw her gaze up and to the side, thick plaits swaying behind her shoulder with the movement as she scowled.

"It's fine, though I almost sent an arrow your direction. Best warn me next time you intend to take such a form."

Vrisryn nodded, and moved towards their bag to organize their supplies for the day and begin planning what direction they would embark in next. Lae'zel was rushing them each to hurry up, and Astarion was complaining loudly about having to start traveling so early. Gale was barely awake yet, sleepily munching on food and seemingly tuning out all else.

It appeared it was going to be a long day indeed.

to be continued...

[triglycercule]

dusttale canon fics translated!!!

have you ever wanted to know MORE about canon dusttale/murder!sans??? heard that one of dusttale's creators wrote fics but it's in korean and you can't be bothered to translate it??? WELL BOY do i have the solution to you because I TRANSLATED THE FICS!!!

well technically i localized it because the fics straight out of translation were a bit funky and out of context in some parts. also the fics are actually not all that detailed (and idk if this is a good thing) so i added more detail and such but idk if some people would rather just the straight translation no extra flourishes

IN THAT CASE if you just wanna read the straight translation dw! if you go to the og korean version HERE and go to the comments some else will have already done a direct translation

keep in mind i do NOT actually know korean and this entire project was done with the help of google translate (god bless the camera translate feature), some research, and my sheer brainpower. if something is messed up PLEASE lmk

heartfelt message below because this is 1/2 of my thanks for 100 followers gift to the world don't open if you don't wanna read CRINGE (ew,,, APPRECIATION AND FEELINGS??? GROSS!)

when will we get more canon dust content i cry out. the delusional side of me says one day but the realistic side says never

so uhhh i hit 100 followers. WOOO YIPPEE!!! and i just wanna say tysm for following me and liking and reblogging all my posts and all that stuff it GENUINELY means a lot. like fr /srs type of meaning to me. i don't remember how and i don't really know why but the murder time trio genuinely mean so much to me and i'm glad that there are a whole ONE HUNDRED ass people that also like all the ideas and dumb stuff i come up with for them and they liked it enough to follow it. like i can't even come up with 100 people i know irl. i never knew i would actually get people to see the shit i post on here and i remember how actually terrified i was when i tagged one of my posts and it actually got interactions (i'm still scared when i post. not a thing has changed)

but ya! im really glad that there are this many people that actually care about my ideas so that's cool. someday im gonna run out of ideas and panic but that day has yet to come. i guess you could consider this the first half of my 100 followers thankgratulations because i still have my horror sans character analysis that i'm still working on and paused to work on this (a simple side quest this was). if i weren't a LAZY FUCK than maybe i wouldve done a DTIYS or something that people do for big milestones like this but like i said. i'm lazy. call me sans. comic sans

anyways triglycercule OUT! time to delete this account! jk!(fashion au)

[definitelynotshouting]

your half of the ransom

Summary:

Trader Scar's is too-empty for so comely a morning, a hollowed-out shell long rebuilt and bristling with more wares than he has those to sell them to. But it's a familiar charade— Scar slips into the back with a single sunflower clenched tight in his palm, bruising the petals and scratching against the insides of his fingers. When Scar steps back out to the front, a ghost is waiting patiently for him at the counter. "Oh," Scar says, and the word scrapes like rust from the well of his throat. He'd recognize those wings anywhere. "Well, hello there, Grian."

Hi gang, this is now up on ao3 with a few extra edits made to it!!! mostly because tumblr decided to post the og fic before i was actually done fiddling with it 😅😅 so i wanted to polish up a few phrases before publishing it proper :]

As always, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated, and comments in the tags or on the fic itself will be revered with godlike awe and gratitude. And if you want to support me and my works, or feel like i deserve a tip, then here is a link to my kofi!!

Thank you so much for reading, and i hope you all enjoy :D

[cursedcatvibes]

WORLD RECORD!

re4r!incel roommate leon x roommate reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: Incel leon who thinks he’s above women and thinks he’s an alpha male. he’s an absolute piece of shit too.

tags/warnings: 18+ minors DNI! Smut, many many mentions of misogyny. He literally can’t find the clit. P in V, he wrapped it before he tapped it! Incel 😧. quick mention of abuse but it’s not super relevant to the plot. not proofread!

a/n: not much to say other than i cringed so bad trying to write leon’s character, but i was committed, i looked through incel forums on reddit and even got chronically online real quick. also i’m on vacation! so i’m not able to write as much as I want! :( i’ll probably post small drabbles but i will most likely have another full story up in a month considering I cranked out a whole 7k page fic and then now a 3k one. DONT QUOTE ME! Also maybe agent leon x agent reader next. @gettingsilly (my sweetheart who was so hyped about this! here you go my love!)

songs:

pussy - rammstein (highly recommend them)

behind blue eyes - limp bizkit (fun fact; this was the og title of the story!)

rape me - nirvana (this was going to be a non con but i changed my mind)

norwegian wood - the beatles (literally burns the woman’s house down cause she don’t want him😭)

happy reading!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈•ﾟ｡

Handsome. Is the first thing that came to mind when you first opened the door to greet your new roommate, Leon. 

-

The rent was getting out of hand these days and you figured it was a way better deal to split the rent instead of living paycheck to paycheck damn near.

The only downside were the horror stories about roommates and even just random strangers too. It made you feel a bit queasy, but what else could you do, a recently single woman and at the ripe age of 25, technically you were in your prime for all types of creeps and weirdos to try and pull something, especially if you live alone.

So you bit the bullet and put up a craigslist ad, putting it at the back of your mind for now while you went back to getting rid of your ex-boyfriend's belongings. 

You only remembered about it when someone responded to it and after a few messages back and forth you gave the address to him and told him he could move in tomorrow. Feeling a bit proud of yourself for even being able to organize such an arrangement.

-

The first thing you noticed was how absolutely built he was, he definitely went to the gym and it made you feel a little insecure for a brief moment, before you stepped to the side to allow him to enter. “Welcome to your new home!” You beamed, happy with what you’ve done to the place. Completely missing the way his eyes ran up and down your body lewdly. 

He only wanted to have a girl roommate because he figured she would give it up easily or at least flaunt her body off to him, much to his dismay you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, not a single ounce of skin showing where he could sculpt your body out. “Prude.” Is what ran through his mind.

“Thanks.” He replied stiffly. “Where is my room at?” Leon asked as he looked around, he was kinda pissed off you didn’t show him any goods. He hated girls who didn’t show off their body, but he hated girls who showed off too much, thought they were just whores looking to get some attention.

So what if he catcalled them? Obviously they were dressing like that for attention and got all pissy when he gave them that attention.

You were oblivious to Leon’s degrading thoughts, too focused on trying to make sure he didn’t try to kidnap or murder you. When he spoke about where he would be staying you perked up and showed him the room while also giving a quick tour of the apartment.

You were even sweet enough to help him unpack all his things once they were all brought in! He owned some interesting objects, a bit uncomfortable to watch him unpack as he had a whole box dedicated to just sex toys. Fake pair of tits that were way too big to even be comfortable on a woman, fake mouth, fake ass, and multiple fake pussy’s. That wasn’t even the worst part of it. 

It got all too freaky when he pulled out hentai figurines that had little to no clothes on, all in lewd poses with lewd expressions on their faces, more specifically ahegao. You could feel the initial attraction from him sizzle down to a mere speck of a flame.

How could someone just own all this stuff so casually, flaunting it like it was a toy race car collection? But Leon didn’t care, fictional cat women were so much better than real women. They couldn't reject him or deny him sex. (Because they quite literally couldn’t, they're inanimate figures.)

He had the straightest deadpan expression on his face and you got the heebie jeebies thinking about what he could’ve possibly done with all these weird toys.”So,” You cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly feeling like every object of his you touched was just icky. “Where did you say you lived before this?” You asked curiously.

Leon glanced over at you, wondering if you were gonna pull your hoodie off and finally show him your tits if he answered all your questions, he was growing frustrated. Dammit woman! Show him something! He thinks this is the longest he had gone without jerking off or watching a porno. If you weren’t gonna entertain him sexually why were you still bothering him?

“My mom’s. She said something about me needing to move out because I'm too old.” He grumbled out, this gave you a major ick, didn’t this guy say he was 27? He wasn’t struggling to get money when clearly he can afford expensive sex toys and other items. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You replied quietly, to which Leon grunted in acknowledgment.

Once you finished the box you were unpacking you decided the best course of action was to just walk away from this conversation. “It seems like you can handle the rest on your own, I don’t really wanna break any of your computer monitors and stuff.” You said as you stood up from the floor and brushed your hands against your pants.

 “Okay.” Leon hummed, disinterested in  conversation. All he really wanted to do was hurry up and set his computer up so he could jerk off in peace. You leaving his room was a bonus. He didn’t want to be downright rude and kick you out, after all, he is totally a nice guy. Plus he got the opportunity to stare at your ass as you walked out, he could see it jiggling underneath your sweats which was enough to rile him up.

-

You wish you could say it improved from there but unfortunately it did not at all. It only seemed to worsen. Like who the hell is watching porn from the moment they wake up to the moment they fall asleep. It’s all just yucky. The loud and over exaggerated moans that were definitely done for performance and not real. 

The only time Leon would leave his room was to eat or grab some water, he always looked so dazed too, it made you wonder what he was doing in there, you’ve never seen him go to work so it made you curious. 

Leon on the other hand was always so dazed or flustered in the face from the amount of jerking off he does all day. He once ran his dick dry enough to start cumming clear, rubbing himself raw damn near. It’s not like he tried not to get laid, he definitely did. But it never worked.

The way he carried himself was creepy, flaunting the fact he was a nice guy who could give a girl a good time. News flash! If you have to say you’re a nice guy, you're definitely not. Girls often avoided him in middle school and that followed him throughout highschool and even college. So he naturally drifted towards animated women.

He was hot but his personality quite literally sucked, it's like he would attract women because of his looks and as soon as he started speaking they lost interest. But you? You still greeted him every time he came out of his room with a polite smile on your face, offering to cook him something but he always declined because the mere thought of having a woman do something trivial such as cook for him like a traditional woman should, made him hard on the spot.

He had the normal views on life, such as all men do. Women are baby makers, they belong in the kitchen, they should treat their man like a king. It’s not like anyone could change his opinion either. He’s so far into the rabbit hole that his other incels praise him like he was a god, thus only further bursting his massive ego. 

-

You didn’t think much of Leon, not in a harsh way, you just didn’t really know that much about him because you two never spoke like that. All you did know was that he watched porn, maybe a bit too much that was considered normal. It's not like you're shaming him because you watch porn too, but you have some decency, a bit of dignity and pride.

Yet your opinion of him instantly sours when one day he comes out of his room, which reeked with the smell of cum and sweat, the room was humid too, which confused you when you first noticed it. He wore an angry expression on his face as he stomped, yes, like a toddler would, towards the fridge to guzzle down a can of soda. 

You, sitting on the couch mindlessly scrolling through your phone waiting for the time to pass on your off day, you planned to go to a club and slut yourself out to help remind yourself that you’re in fact hot and your ex missed out. Yet when he slammed the fridge door closed that caught your attention, perking your head up like a puppy.

“Uh, you alright?” You asked aloud, watching his eyes snap towards you with a frustrated huff. He figured if you put up with him this long then you must see the same misogynistic views he does about women. “No!” He scoffed out, dragging himself to sit on the couch next to you, like directly. Knees touching and everything.

This piqued your curiosity, maybe you could learn something about him? “What’s wrong?” You questioned as you shut your phone off, sitting up a bit straighter now, putting some distance between the both of you on purpose by grabbing a throw pillow.

Leon then started to rant and you’ve never been more disgusted and horrified in your life before. “I’ve been talking to this really hot chick and we were hitting it off, even had phone sex once or twice but when she asked me who my ideal woman was she ghosted me! Like what's wrong with saying women belong in the kitchen, or doing laundry, or even just cleaning. Women are only here to serve us alpha males.” 

Your nose scrunched up while your face morphed into genuine horror mixed with disgust. Is this seriously his mindset? It must be a joke or something of the sort because no way in hell. “Is.. is this a joke?” You asked, feeling puzzled as you looked around for a hidden camera. Out of all the people you got stuck with, you got stuck with an incel of all people.

Leon stared at you with the most serious face he could muster, he wasn’t kidding, in fact he was getting a bit upset that you were thinking he was joking. “Women are what's wrong with this world! You’re all too soft and so ditzy. You all think men’s feelings are a joke.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and you swear you can make out a dried cum stain on his clothes. 

You felt so sick and also tickled, you’ve never heard someone or have been around a real life incel before and unfortunately this one came in the form of a super hot guy that wasn’t looking so hot anymore 

“Ew..” You stood up from the couch and stuck your tongue out slightly. “Is that how you see women? No wonder why she ghosted you, you’re a fucking incel.” You scoffed out, to which Leon got offended. “So?! What’s wrong with that?!” He shouted, the tips of his ears turning pink. It was different being scolded by a woman in person rather than over the phone because  he knows they can't hurt him physically but rather verbally. Plus it’s much easier to insult someone online versus real life.

“Do you actually hear the words leaving your mouth?” You questioned, staring him down intensely. Leon tried not to shrink in on himself, it reminded him of his mom telling him that he had done something wrong and now he was in trouble. So he doubled down and sat up straighter too, staring up at you. 

“Yeah, and what about it? Why do women get so butthurt over every little thing?” Leon grunted out, rolling his eyes like a little kid would. You were just astonished that he was willing to keep going even after being confronted with the fact, but you weren’t oblivious to the way his ears were turning red from embarrassment. “Fine, if that’s how you’re gonna be.” You murmured as you sat down on the coffee table right in front of him. His eyes follow your form curiously. If he was being honest the only reason why he actually moved in with you was because he thought you were really hot from your profile picture and even the photo you sent of yourself to prove that you were real, per his request. He jerked off to both photos for hours. (Plus his mom really did kick him out.)

Leon went to question you in hopes of turning the table around to make it backfire on you. Yet as his mouth opened to make another snide remark about women you spoke up first. “Let me be the first one to tell you this, and I mean this too.” You paused as you stared right into his eyes. “No woman is ever gonna have sex with you if you have this mentality and mindset.” You watched his eyes widen a bit and felt some joy come from it.

Leon balled his hands up into fists in genuine anger, a deep part of himself knew she wasn’t lying but the other part was so adamant on her being wrong. Obviously she didn’t know what she was talking about, women never do. “You’re a liar. You’re just jealous.” He scoffed out, narrowing his eyes into thin slits.

You were absolutely not lying.

Far from it actually.

The closest Leon had came to a pussy is on a computer screen, let’s face it. No woman on earth would wanna sleep with such scum such as him, not even prostitutes themselves want to take on such a tedious task. They’d rather kill themselves or have their pimp abuse them than sleep with him.

“Really, name 5 women you’ve had touch you in a romantic way.” You countered, staring into his eyes with an intense expression. Leon opened his mouth to try and smugly name a woman until he realized the answer was 0, he had no names because no one wanted him like that.

It was a blow to his ego and it showed on his face. If he wasn’t such a loser with terrible opinions along with his shitty personality then you would’ve felt bad but you didn’t. It was his own fault.

“That’s not fair.” He grumbled, staring up at you with a slight hurt look on his face. He wanted to get back at you. Make you regret and eat your words. How? Well that problem was quickly answered as he grabbed your wrist and pinned you beneath him on the couch. A yelp leaving your mouth at the sudden movements.

“What the—“ You were suddenly cut off by Leon’s hand slapping over your mouth, he smelled of cum and sweat, it made you wanna gag and throw up on him. “I bet I can make you cum so hard you’ll forget that you were mean to me.” He hissed, his fragile ego was broken because of you!

You furrowed your eyebrows before rolling your eyes. “Whatever.” You said underneath his palm, voice coming out muffled.

Leon smirked and moved his hand off your mouth, gazing lustfully at your body. He seemed confident but on the inside he was screaming at himself. He’s never touched or seen a woman in such an intimate manner in real life. This wasn’t a screen this time.

He gulped and hooked his fingers on the waistband of your sweatpants, he was determined to make you cum if it was the last thing he ever did.

Once he removed your sweatpants he found you commando beneath it. His breath caught in his throat, your mound was glistening beneath the light in the living room. It wasn’t even wet because of him, but he was dumb enough to not know the difference. He stared in awe before looking back up at your face when you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You gonna stare or what?” You questioned.

Leon shook his head before putting his hands on you, gently rubbing your inner thighs. Making you think that for a brief moment he might actually know what he was doing, right up until he pressed his thumb against your lower lips and started rubbing them.

Completely missing your clit.

He felt so aroused and a bit cocky now that he was touching your pussy, his eyes laser focused on your face to see if it was feeling good. He even tried dirty talk too. “Yeah? Does that feel good? I bet it does.” Literally hyping himself up.

You found it hilarious and decided to nod, stifling a laugh as you let out a fake over exaggerated moan he hears in his crappy pornos. Leon let out a soft groan at the sound, his hips bucking up into the air while his cock twitched.

Now, Leon had seen enough porn to know that he needed a condom and lube, obviously they never showed the actors prepping the girls' pretty cunts, they just stuck it in. Spoiler alert, foreplay is hot! None is not.

While Leon ran to his room you took the opportunity to finger yourself, even if you were sure he wasn’t packing much you wanted to be somewhat prepared for a small stretch, you groaned silently, throwing your head back in pleasure, clearly favoring your hand over Leon himself.

When you heard his footsteps you quickly pulled your hand away and watched as he excitedly took his pants off. Wow, so much for knowing how to pleasure a woman. It was funny to watch him struggle to keep it together when he kneeled back between your legs.

“I’m gonna put it in now.” Leon announced, squirting a generous amount of lube on your cunt before (attempting to) rolling on the condom. (You definitely had to help him. The last thing you wanted was to get knocked up by some dimwit.)

He put some lube on his cock, jerking off a bit while looking down at your pussy. Not your face. When he stopped masturbating he slapped the tip of his dick against your clit a few times, your body jolting in pleasure at the sudden sensation.

This immediately boosted his ego and you were in awe he was able to make you feel partially good. He was just daydreaming of how tight and warm your hole was going to feel. His dick wasn’t that big either, it was average length, average size, average balls. Just.. underwhelming and average.

“What’re you waiting for?” You murmured, snapping him out his trance briefly before he cleared his throat. “J-Just trying to brace you for my cock, it’s big right?” Leon questioned, feeling a bit insecure but he wanted you to make him feel better, feel like a man. That was a woman’s purpose after all.

“Yes (no).” You sighed out breathily, keeping up your act, dragging your nails down his body gently, causing him to shudder and nod with a smug look on his face. He pushed himself in fairly easily, considering your ex-boyfriends cock was much bigger and overwhelming, accidentally clenching down around Leon’s sad excuse of a penis which riled him up, thinking you had came.

You definitely missed his dick and now was stuck with some crappy one attached to a misogynistic freak. A soft sound of discomfort left your lips and Leon took it as a sign that you were enjoying it. You must love it! He was so confident in himself!

So confident that after 5-6 thrusts he spilled inside the condom, talk about a minute man. He was a millisecond man. His whole body spasmed from euphoric bliss, he had never cum this hard in his life before, burying his face in your neck, sloppily kissing at your skin because he couldn’t kiss for the life of him.

You were stunned someone could cum so quickly, that had to be a world record or something. Quickest man to cum after sticking it in or some random ass title, you hadn’t realized you had zoned out about the Guinness record book until Leon pulled his cock out from inside you, feeling good about himself.

He was panting softly from the intensity of his orgasm, leaning back against the couch to gaze at your pretty pussy, he wanted to eat you out too, wanting to show you he was good orally too.

“Was it good? Did you cum too?” Leon said as he stared into your eyes, wanting to hear you sing his praises and take back your harsh words that hurt his feelings. Almost like a puppy waiting for its owner to praise them for pissing outside the house instead of inside.

You grabbed your clothes and put them back on, smirking as you stared him dead in the eye. “No, I didn’t cum.” You snickered as his face dropped, kissing his forehead quickly. “Sucks to suck, Leon.” You said casually, getting up to go to your room and nap.

Leon sat on the couch stunned beyond relief, his cock kicking against his thigh as he watched you.

He swore under his breath that you were lying and you did cum, after all, delusion is key, and delusion is what made him become your roommate to begin with.

[aceof-stars]

Narumitsu/Wrightworth Fic Recs! (Part 1, Multi Chapter)

I'm finally cleaning out my tabs and sorting through all the fanfics I've read so I thought tumblr would be the best place to keep my favorite fics :)

This post will contain only multi-chapter fics, completed fics will be listed first and then uncompleted ones. Assume it's a wrightworth fic unless I specify otherwise. I will also be subjecting you all to the way I tag/organize the fanfics I read. I'll try to keep spoilers out of my tags, but if you want to go in blind just click the link.

I will tag the author if I know their tumblr <3

Anyways, Enjoy!!

Canon Compliant, Mostly

A Long Way To Fall by Prospectkiss aka @prospectkiss

Era: OG Trilogy | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession | Plot Stuff: Casefic, Phoenix Gets Kidnapped, Includes Smut

The very first wrightworth fic I read!! <3

Paper Hearts by Prospectkiss aka @prospectkiss

Era: DD/SOJ/Post-Canon | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession | Plot Stuff: Angst, Reunion

So Soft that it h u r t s me

Turnabout Forgotten by Nali_li

Era: OG Trilogy | Relationship? Established Relationship & Confession | Plot Stuff: Phoenix has Amnesia, Pining While In a Relationship

res ipsa loquitur (the thing itself speaks) by griffonage

Era: DD/SOJ/Post-Canon | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession | Plot Stuff: Phoenix Didn't Know They Were Dating, Miscommunication (but it's funny)

pari delicto, pari passu (equal fault, equal footing) by griffonage

Era: DD/SOJ/Post-Canon | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession | Plot Stuff: Phoenix Didn't Know They Were Dating, Miscommunication (but it's funny)

Yeah this is very similar to the previous one but they're both very good

Five Times Miles Found Phoenix Infuriatingly Attractive and One Time Phoenix Threw It Right Back at Him by 3musketears

Era: Disbarment/AJ | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession → Established Relationship | Plot Stuff: Aspec Miles Edgeworth Suffers™️

Disbarment tends to be a really sad era to write in but this one isn't soul-crushing

to drink, and live, what has destroyed some men by multifandom_fanfic_writer

Era: Multiple (Pre-DL-6, Disbarment/AJ, DD/SOJ/Post-Canon) | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession | Plot Stuff: Phoenix is Jealous of Miles' Admirers, Miles Edgeworth Rejects Everyone Except Phoenix

Guilty As Charged by JustNerdyThings

Era: DD/SOJ/Post-Canon | Relationship? Established Relationship | Plot Stuff: AJ Trilogy Characters Try Matchmaking-- Phoenix & Miles Don't Need It Actually, POV Outsider, Miscommunication (but it's funny)

A Night You'll Never Regret by MaudMoon (Idle_Wanderings) aka @maud-moon

Era: DD/SOJ/Post-Canon | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession | Plot Stuff: Phoenix & Miles Get Impulsively Married, Drunken Shenanigans, Temporary Amnesia, Communication!, Includes Smut

One of my favorite Post-Canon wrightworth fics, Phoenix and Miles are characterized so well <3

Canon Retellings/Canon Divergence

Reprieve by Almarna aka @almarnatiaam

Era: Pre-Canon (Bratfeen) | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession → Established Relationship → Breakup → Getting Back Together | Plot Stuff: Bratworth & Feenie are Roommates, First Game Retelling

Don't Lawyers Feel Love Too? by JustNerdyThings

Era: Pre-Canon (Bratfeen), Legally Blonde AU | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession → Established Relationship | Plot Stuff: Bratworth is Feenie's Study Partner, Turnabout Goodbyes Retelling

What Are Roommates For Anyways by daggar

Era: Pre-Canon (Bratfeen) | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession → Established Relationship | Plot Stuff: Bratworth is Feenie's Roommate, Bratworth Tries to Have a Corruption Arc & Feenie Doesn't Let Him, Bratworth's Accelerated Redemption, Turnabout Memories Retelling

This one is similar to the last but it's angstier and involves more case/plot elements

UNFINISHED

A Demon's Justice by Evelinessa aka @evelinessa

Era: OG Trilogy (PW:AA) | Relationship? Pre-Relationship | Plot Stuff: Phoenix Loses Turnabout Sisters, Edgeworth's Delayed Redemption, Turnabout Sisters Retelling, Turnabout Goodbyes Retelling

pain, pain, so much pain please save me (jk I love it)

Feline Any Better? by Dreamnorn

Era: Pre-Canon (Bratfeen) | Relationship? Pre-Relationship | Plot Stuff: Bratworth's Accelerated Redemption, Bratworth Becomes a Cat and Gets Closer to Phoenix, Phoenix Wright Angst Train

Turnabout Transposed by NeeineArts

Era: No-DL-6 AU | Relationship? Established Relationship (um it's complicated) | Plot: Canon Edgeworth Travels to No DL-6 Universe, Crossing Timelines, Casefic

Alternate Universe

I Spy by zombiekittiez

Era: Spy AU | Relationship? Established Relationship → Estrangement → Getting Back Together | Plot Stuff: Phoenix & Miles Work For Opposing Sides, Secret Identities

Augh pain, what if I want wrightworth to be happy is that too much to ask for

The Return of Glory by MaudMoon (Idle_Wanderings) aka @maud-moon

Era: Hogwarts AU | Relationship? Pre-Relationship → Confession → Established Relationship | Plot Stuff: Phoenix & Miles are Rivals At First, Exposing von Karma, Found Family Working Together

AUTHOR DOES NOT SUPPORT JK ROWLING!! I REPEAT, AUTHOR DOES NOT SUPPORT JK ROWLING. Phoenix and Maya are BOTH trans here

HP worldbuidling elements are actually incorporated so well into Ace Attorney plot points

[junietuesday]

i love you tumblr my first and forever social media 💜 sucks ass here yes but in comparison to every other site this place is a haven. i LOVEEEEEEEE the tagging system both for organization and whispering on a post i reblogged i LOVEEEEEEEE posting essays w all sorts of formatting i LOVEEEEEEEEE how switching between sideblogs is so easy i LOVEEEEEE quick rbing to any blog i LOVEEEEEE the built-in ask system i LOVEEEEEE reblogging posts i like as many times as i want i could keep going. ive joined other sites for the art or memes or whatever but this place will always be my home base. all my followers here you guys are the ogs❤️ you have seen the best and worst of me when all i do on other sites is again just post memes and art. im never leaving this hellsite

[borrowedtimeandspace]

A Reader's Guide to the Multiverse

Hello! Welcome to my sandbox!

Artwork by the lovely @abookishweasel

Though I still write long-form stories collaboratively with @neonthewrite [ Ao3 | DA ] and @nightmares06 [ Ao3 | DA ], my own writing has become more short-form and sporadic. This can make things a bit confusing for the blog, since there isn't an easy way to organize everything. That's what I use Ao3 for (user The_Raconteur_24601). And even there, it can be a bit complicated.

Under the cut is a guide to the stories you'll find featured on this blog; my attempt at organizing them here, and links to their counterparts on Ao3. My asks are always open for any questions this post doesn't answer!

Borrowed Time (and Space)

A Doctor Who/The Borrowers Crossover

[Ao3 Series] | Meet the OCs

Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, The Borrowers belongs to Mary Norton, and Zepheera and other borrower OCs belong to me.

It's the name of the blog, the OG, the one that started it all. The primary premise for this series is: The Doctor (usually Ten) takes on a four and a half inch tall borrower named Zepheera as a companion. It's all a bit wibbly-wobbly, but let me set things straight.

Common tags for the stories (and various posts) are #doctor who gt or #doctor who g/t (which stands for giant/tiny and indicates the involvement of drastic size difference, for the uninitiated) and #BTaS AU

Episode 1 | Minisode | Episode 2 | Episode 3

Originally there were ambitions to try and make the series episodic, like your typical season of Doctor Who but with a borrower tossed in. As such, the first three stories in the series are titled as 'Episodes'. These were among the first long-form stories I'd ever written and posted, so they predate the blog. That, and my writing style and ideas for the canon of the series have changed drastically since then. See this post for more details on that, and this one if you're not worried about spoilers.

The tl;dr of it is: These Episodes are the basis for the AU, but I don't consider them canon enough to impact any other stories in a meaningful way unless I say so.

Zepheera's Origins - In which I started cracking down on my borrower companion's characterization and backstory, compiling a number of prompts set during the time before she met the Doctor.

Zepheera-Visions - These were a fun writing exercise for me during this blog's early years! I would come up with shorts based on Doctor Who gifs that feature some low or high angle shot, imagining Zepheera as the point of perspective in them. If I were at all good at making gifs myself, I might have kept it up. A lot of the AU that ultimately came about branched off from these gimmicks, and still feature them in their stories. Here, they can be viewed under the #Zepheera-Vision tag.

Tales from the Vortex - A compilation of various prompts and shorts that take places in the BTaS-Verse, but don't have any major stories attached to them. These span different Doctors other than Ten, and feature a few other companions in some of them. Sometimes, enough stories accumulate with a similar theme to expand into their own AU, which leads me to...

Borrowed Time and Space AU

The Donna Trilogy - This was originally called the Donna AU, and the original shorts were tagged with #DonnaAU or #Donna AU. Nowadays, I've started to give AU their own titles and tagging them on blog posts. And recent events in Doctor Who have inspired this to span more than one story, making this the first multipart BTaS AU!

Part 1 - A Patient, and Time. [tag] [Ao3]

Part 2 - If I Could Turn Back Time [tag] [Ao3]

Part 3 - TBD...

To The Nines - One of the first AU created in which Zepheera is companion to a Doctor other than Ten! Despite titling the story later on, I must have had the idea for it earlier because a lot of the early shorts are tagged #To the Nines AU. Other tags include #nine AU and #To the Nines.

Time After Time - This AU, while it is NOT a sequel to any existing story, assumes that Zepheera and the Tenth Doctor went on their adventures in the past, and got separated at some point. Then Zepheera manages to find the Twelfth Doctor while he's at St. Luke's and meets Bill Potts. This was one AU that developed slowly over time once I realized I could get a story arc out of it, so a good chunk of the shorts are in the tag #Time After Time.

Borrowed Magic - co-written with neonthewrite

The first and so far only BTaS crossover! The wonderful neon lent me her boi Bowman from her story "Bowman of Wellwood" ( Paperback EBook Amazon ) to join my little TARDIS crew.

Lost in Flight - The inaugural story to introduce a tiny winged guy raised in the woods to all of time and space. It's so far the only complete story we've written, but we're absolutely open to prompts and suggestions for shenanigans for the crew to get into!

Brothers Apart AU - co-written with nightmares06

A SuperLock/Borrowers Crossover

Brothers Apart Ao3 | Meet the OCs

Supernatural belongs to the CW, Sherlock to the BBC, Brothers Apart to nighmares06, and listed OCs to me.

Brothers Apart is a borrower AU of Supernatural written by the inimitable nightmares06. We have collaborated on a few of the various AU based on that story, in which I bring the BBC Sherlock angle.

I don't post nearly as much here about BAU (Brothers Apart AU) since most questions about it are fielded at the dedicated blog @brothersapart; most of what can be found here are miscellaneous prompts and character tidbits. Brothers Apart AU posts made here get filed under #BAU.

More AU exist than listed below, and will be added as they're posted.

Brothers Consulted - Cursed Winchesters end up in London and join forces with the Baker Street crew to solve mysteries, as they do. #Brothers Consulted

Brothers Chosen - Canon Winchesters find a borrower during a hunt and have to figure out what to do with him.

A Tale of Two Sizes - Part of an unannounced BAU, featuring Stan and his family in a universe where Stan is a size-shifter. Finally compiled these into one collection. #size shifter Stan

Misc. Tumblr Prompts - A less clever name for a similar compilation of prompts that don't (or don't yet) have their own story, that have nothing to do with BTaS and/or have to do with my cowritten works.

Miscellaneous

The Brave Little Baker - In which I toss Stan and Nate into a fantasy world of giants and giant slayers! Also based on a series of prompts, revised and compiled into their own story once I had enough of them.

GT July

These prompt challenges have done wonders to keep me writing and inspired!

2022 Masterpost | 2023 Masterpost

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Chapter 2

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Chapter 2: Mission

Okay pre read thoughts here. This story is so good! I am totally loving the premise of this, the system mechanics are wonderful (so much sass) but also so unpredictable!

I'm not going to lie I am nervous for this mission that Shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu and co are about to go on. I just feel like things are about to get completely fucked LOL

again (as a reader not as system in book) points to Shen Yuan for noting how nasty the relationships are in this OG canon (p 63 re: Die-er and Old Master Chen- barf)

Okay but like I get it Shen Yuan- I still cannot imagine attempting to fake being a martial master OMG p.64

MOOD "Shen Qingqiu didnt even want to pretend to meditate, so he lay on the bed, just pretending to be dead" p65

unrelated to this plot but also related to this plot: I fucking love how MXTX is as a writer. I love the constant comments about the writing of women and side characters in fantasy writing it's very meta right now p67 (Re: shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu- i haven't decided what to call him at this point tbh- talking about how the "original author" wrote the shittiest female characters).

I am once again here to talk about how Shen Yuan talks about Luo Binghe (he is a child- another barf) but also Shen Yuan does have this future(?) omniscient (?) knowledge about about what he becomes as a fully realized adult character - it still makes me deeply uncomfortable RE: "Shen Qingqiu could only say that, as expected, the brilliant protagonist truly was overwhelmingly cool, awesome, insane, and badass, with a dick longer than the heavens" p68

RIP easy mode XD LOL p69

why is he naked tho??? p71

bless her heart- RE: everything about Ning Yingying p74

I can't. Re: Luo Binghe's crisis pp76-77

If shen Qingqiu fixes this entire story by accidentally making Luo Binghe fall in love with him I- *deep sigh * pp76-77

The way Shen Yuan keeps reading the filth out of these characters- SO MUCH shade! "Their IQ wasn't beyond saving!" p 81

thank fuck he finally unlocked the OOC feat p85

Okay but the Lin Xi Caves actually sound so stunning p88

Re stunning caves: well minus the blood and qi deviation LOL

When his headcanon for Liu Qingge is absolutely wrecked ahahahaha p93

Liu Qingge really hates Shen Qingqiu (I mean, I get it but like still, damn) pp 97-98

Unrelated but I adore the way this sect is organized. It is visually stunning with the various peaks, im fully picturing this gorgeous mountain range

The QUEEREST thought so far in this is Shen Yuan commenting on the demon woman's (now I know she is Sha Hualing- don't @ me) footware, I can't p102

wait what the heck! Shen Qingqiu's fighting is so elegant! pp 106-107

Luo Binghe: status- Broken p107

OMG he wants to protect this kid but the struggle of a protagonist (re: -1000 if Luo Binghe does not fight) p109

Hell yeah! I already love Liu Mingyan!!! p111

OMG he totally is accidentally causing Luo Binghe to fall for him. I can't-what a way to fix the plot. p112

The hate Shen Yuan has for Ning Yingying is too much XD I keep laughing, oh no. Him basically saying "omg thank you for running away I literally cannot handle you in this fight because you are a constant mess" p116

wait. WTF. Is Shen Qingqiu going to die?!?!?! p124

oh, thank fuck, Liu Qingge showed up pp129-130

bahahahah OFC he's "repaying for the cave" p131

oh damn well shit okay, that's one way to end the chapter.

I hope his cultivation is not fucked because of the poison!?!?!?

also jesus, that's a harsh way to get points. Does he level up in this?? I feel like he at least deserves a level up.

That's all for this chapter!

Tomorrow is date night for me and my partner so maybe no chapter- but we will see if I have time to read earlier or not.

[ghoulishfrk]

PAIRING — WARNINGS — WORD COUNT!

〘 Matt x Reader x Mello | None! | ~ .5K words 〙

MASTERLIST !! PINNED POST 🎧💿

ੈ ✮ ˳ Lulus Notes :: Repost from my og account. This one was requested

✩°｡ Tagging :: @deathnotenjoyer (og requester)

You worried about Matt and Mello a lot. It was obvious to anyone that their habits were barely healthy and that they’d probably be dead already if someone hadn’t been there to help them. Matt was extremely cocky and laid back, which often led to mistakes, while Mello had a rather short temper and hated having people questioning him.

But right now, all you cared about was going to bed. You had been up for days having to plan with Matt and Mello and having to deal with everyone. At this point, you were sure you’d snap if something bad happened. Mello sat on the sofa to your left reading something while eating chocolate while Matt sat by your right playing one of his games and chewing on tobacco.

“I’m heading off to bed now.” You said while organizing the papers strewn over the table into a nice pile.

“Alright, goodnight Y/N,” Matt replied without looking up from his game. Mello just let out a hum of acknowledgment while he kept reading. You then left off to your room with your stuff.

Once in your room, you dropped everything on your table and changed into your sleepwear. You then lay in bed and drifted off to sleep.

During your sleep, you felt something nudging you and then laying next to you. You let out a quiet groan as you slowly opened your eyes. The first thing you saw was a head of brown hair. Once your brain woke up, you processed that Matt was laying on your bed and hugging your waist while his head lay on your chest. You let out a silent chuckle, to which Matt dug his head deeper into your chest. You ran your fingers through his head then laidlaid a kiss on the top of it.

A few minutes later, your door opened again and light edpoured through it. You slightly turned your head to see who it was and saw Mello out of his usual leather outfit and in a much more comfortable cotton shirt and sweatpants. He then walked up to you and Matt and sat on your bed.

“So he got here before me, huh.” He mumbled.

“Yeah, he’s been herehere for a while.” You replied, keeping your voice down so as to not wake Matt up.

“Lucky bastard, he got the best spot,” Mello grumbled to which you let a quiet giggle.

“Come and cuddle with us Mello,” You looked at him, “It’s weird without you.”

“Alright, alright, quit nagging me.” He replied. He then laid down behind you both and snuggled into your neck. You smiled at him, “I know you love us anyway.”

© all rights are reserved to @ghoulishfrk. Do not steal, modify, copy, and/or repost my works anywhere.

[mikuchan]

more thoughts on my Minthara Baenre AO3 character tag deep dive that were too much for the og post, but are still interesting

how I organized main / side / background character categorization:

If the fic focused on Minthara or on a Minthara ship, I counted it as a main character work.

If she was within the top 3 tagged characters and/or had a clear role within the fic's description or additional tags, but was not the main focus, I counted it as a side character work.

If she was one of many characters tagged and/or had no clear role within the work, I counted it as a background character work. An exception was made for collection works, which I counted as main character works.

more on organization:

for the sake of streamlining, I didn't include multi-character ships as their own category. Instead any multi-character ship was subdivided (a Minthara/Alfira/Lakrissa work -> 1 tally for Minthara/Alfira, 1 tally for Minthara/Lakrissa). Ditto for endgame, breakup, or similar fics: as long as the ship was present in the work, I included it in my tally (so a fic starting as Minthara/Durge but becoming Gortash/Durge was still a tally in the Minthara/OC category). For this reason, some of the numbers don't quite add up since one fic might include multiple ships. I did not include tags such as implied relationship, previous/past relationship, etc as it was not relevant to my purpose.

OC fics were often tagged with multiple variations of character tags (ie Tav, Original Character, Original Female Character). Unless it was clear there were multiple OCs being shipped with Minthara, I counted these as one character using a waterfall/basket system Durge -> Tav -> OC (with /Reader being its own separate category).

I considered breaking down work authors as well (amount of authors vs amount of fics, etc) but ultimately decided against it. I DO want to mention, though, that some of the stats have the potential to be taken in a skewed light because of that: ships that seem more popular may have a vocal minority writing multiple fics for a single pairing, or a pairing might have less fics overall but from a wider spread of authors.

It was interesting and frustrating to see how many works tagged Minthara without actually including her as a character -- or tagged her and gave her one line (or no lines). Here are a few of the top reasons for this that I noticed:

work was an ensemble piece, usually following a Tav or Durge's journey from beginning to end, with every companion + semi-prominent character tagged

work was a preemptively tagged collection, with the author tagging every ship and/or character they planned to write about

work was set around or within the Goblin Camp, with Minthara as a background antagonist

work was about a Drow OC with a Baenre-adjacent backstory

Obviously most of this data is interesting, but not great for drawing conclusions from. It does seem like other characters have similar issues:

fics tagging Minthara without including her, or without giving her speaking lines, almost always gave other characters the same treatment

some Minthara-specific situations, like tagging her for backstory or background antagonist purposes, can be assumed to affect other characters in similar but different ways (ie, tagging Isobel in Last Light fics). I didn't dive into this, though, so it's all conjecture.

some fics did seem to suffer for Minthara-specific reasons. Multiple fics tagged her with her only role being to be killed by the main character, almost always without including the Archive Warning for Major Character Death. This indicates to me that the author probably never recruited her, and considers her a basic enemy NPC on the same level as Dror Ragzlin or Dribbles versus a fully fleshed companion character.

The top 5 categories of 'fics that tagged Minthara but are definitely not about her' were as follows (in order of amount)

Astarion/Original Character

Astarion/Gale

Shadowheart/Original Character

Gortash/Original Character

Shadowheart/Lae'zel

I don't necessarily think this means anything beyond these being popular ships, but wanted to include it.

I'm not going to do this with any other characters (probably), but if anyone does, it would be interesting to see how they compare to the Minthara tag.