#I honestly have no idea bro

[imwritesometimes]

should I even continue writing fic? don't know. do know. gonna continue to make smoothies and take naps.

[basslinegrave]

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 4: Haunted

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

Post boiling rock sketch bc prison IS where people fall in love

[benevolenterrancy]

Swords pining for each other's cultivator is my new favorite type of pining. Love your NieYao content! <3

I don't suppose we could get Baxia or Hensheng throwing a tantrum while Jin Guangyao / Nie Mingjue are away, leaving their owners to deal with the embarrassing aftermath?

Also, do you have any recs you'd recommend with these two?

this is the exact moment Nie Huaisang realised he was going to have to start meddling in his big brother's love life (con't: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5)

Hensheng, on the other hand, doesn't throw tantrums but WILL sulk...

[skaluli]

my little fortress : fighting is magic scout + bonus sniper

(top left is my concept/ideas for snipers cutiemark ill make a final design one day

these 3 thingys are from a while ago

[lovetositinsilence]

babygirls

[indigolament]

some assorted horseshit spawned from tgp discord shenanigans 💯

(go play genesis project it's rad as hell ‼️)

proship dni

[jollycryptid]

My student visa got approved!! I GET TO SEE MY FAMILY AGAIN!!!

[zehl0w]

Zenitsu agatsuma has got to be the biggest egg I have ever seen in my entire life

[smytherines]

Someone made a "what if they both fell" post the other day, and I can't stop thinking about it but also I don't want to swarm someone's post with my own unhinged ranting. So here's my little idk wish fulfillment fantasy--

Owen falls, and Curt catches him. But he isn't anchored to anything, and the force of the fall drags him along as well. They both fall onto the partially-closed safety barricade

Owen lands in a much worse position, he's bleeding and unconscious and has several severe injuries. Curt somehow lands a little bit better, he has a broken leg and a broken arm, but he's still conscious. He drags himself over to Owen, not sure if he's even still alive, desperately feeling for a pulse and trying to get a response out of him. Owen opens his eyes and reaches out for Curt, and they have a brief moment together. They're facing certain death, and with that knowledge of their impending doom they tell each other the things they always meant to say

Curt holds onto Owen as the lab explodes beneath them, and they both lose consciousness

Curt wakes up in a Russian cell, badly injured and unable to walk but alive. In some distant part of the building he can hear someone screaming in agony, and he knows in his heart that it's Owen. But naturally, their captors aren't going to allow the two spies who just blew up their weapons facility to have any contact with each other. They're too valuable as prisoners

Curt thrashes and threatens, and tries and tries and tries to get to Owen. But he can't. His injuries and the guards on his door won't allow it. But he knows Owen is in that building, somewhere, alive

Eventually, the US makes a trade-- Curt for a Russian spy they've been holding. Curt is heavily sedated because he keeps trying to escape and worsening his injuries. He wakes up in a military hospital, with Cynthia standing over him. He asks about Owen, and she changes the subject. But he keeps asking, keeps telling Cynthia that Owen is alive and they have to get him out of there. Eventually, Cynthia tells him-- in the kindest way she can manage-- that according to MI6 Owen died from his injuries

But Curt refuses to believe it. He knows that Owen is alive, and nobody can convince him otherwise. Cynthia tries to reason with him, tells him they aren't going to put any resources towards rescuing a corpse. So Curt quits. And he heals up enough to be able to walk. And then he sets out on his own mission to find his partner

Curt busts down the door of every Russian facility he can find, but there is no trace of Owen. Barb is trying to help him on the side, not because she believes him but because she cares enough about him to not let him take on a suicide mission on his own. She gently tries to convince him that Owen is gone

And Curt starts to think maybe he really is losing his mind. That maybe Owen died months ago, and he just can't accept it because he feels responsible for it. He convinces Barb to support him in one more mission, one more facility, and if he doesn't find a lead on Owen then he will come home

There's nothing. No sign of him.

Curt starts to break down, smashing up the random Russian office he's in, sobbing on the floor, confronted with the reality that maybe Owen really is dead. That this feeling he's been carrying in his gut ever since he was freed was wrong

And then, at his absolute lowest, when he finally has to accept that the man he loves is gone, he sees a piece of paper in that wrecked office with a familiar name on it-- Carvour, O

And another name he doesn't recognize-- Chimera

[miusato]

Yes I love me some Siblings dynamics ✨️✨️✨️

I like to think that Aki's (adoptive) parents bought a better headstone for Miki ;w;

[sieglinde-freud]

they were so insane for this

[stiltonbasket]

lxc having the #1 Hot Guy Ranking is kind of funny? Like, he's such a sweetie that he's ignoring all of the people making googoo eyes at him? and lwj is staring down anyone that looks like they might try anthing (except nmj).

Jiang Fengmian, several years pre-canon: I want that boy as my son-in-law. :(

Nie Huangyin, watching a tiny NMJ eating snacks with LXC and JYL: I totally get where you're coming from, but that divine honor was destined for me. 😌

Jiang Fengmian: What?

Nie Huangyin, playing dumb: What??

*twenty years later*

Lan Wangji, to the general public: "I will separate your heads from your shoulders if you even think about trying anything with my Xiongzhang."

Lan Wangji, re: Nie Mingjue: "Why in heaven's name is Chifeng-zun not even thinking about trying anything with my Xiongzhang???" >:(((

[mssf-milk]

lookin comfortable

tap for better quality!

💙❤️

[oneluckydragon]

got hit with the echo+sora brainrot so i am once more rambling in your askbox about it. because reasons.

anywho i think there is something truly saddening about echo's struggles to make peace within herself and how she truly finds it hard to find that peace when she is so certain that if the truth about her origins were to be revealed to the world, much less to *sora*, everything she achieved, everything she worked for, all of which matters to her most, will crumble away in a moment's notice.

but the fear of losing all your life's work is none compared to the fear of losing sora. the feeling of poison that settled itself within themselves and between each other out of fear and tragedy of what had happened to them is familiar. echo's resemblance to dusknoir was already enough to set the two off because of how much it had all hurt to see someone you love and yourself turn into a mockery and a splitting image of someone who had pretended to care yet showed he never did at all, but this poison is louder. it hurts to bare, to carry, and to have none but yourself to be its sole holder.

but this poison, this feeling of heartache is different. because whereas the previous pain was something both of them felt, sora was lucky enough to not have known the truth about the person who she cares for so dearly.

echo knows that she used to be darkrai. and it haunts her to have known that her previous incarnation was so *cruel*, all for the sake of it just feeling right. wishing to engulf an entire world in darkness, solely for whatever desire she used to have.

and for how much she knows, how much she will hammer it into her own head that she is *not* like that anymore, that she looks at her past with sneer and disgust and that she will not be the barer of evil anymore, it will not matter in the slightest when she will have to look at sora if she were to ever find out.

how afraid, angry and dejected she would look when finding out, and how she will go on the defense/offense because of how much this will overwhelm her.

because when echo looks at her own shadow, she sees herself for what she is. she knows what she is, be it out of shame or guilt.

but when sora will look at it, she will see a tall, contorting and menacing shadow, towering over with a bright cyan eye doing nothing but looking at her, as if tempting her to make the next move.

and she defends herself. from someone she knows will not harm her. she raises her arms up in self defense from a hand that would never hurt her more than the world has already did.

she knows echo will not hurt her. and thats why she is afraid.

Oh my oh my OH MY, Sinnoh!!! YES YES YES!

HOW!!! IN THE WORLD!!! Are you so good at crawling into my head and creating these vivid analysis/snippets on my OCs??? I've barely shared ANY information about Echo and Sora because I've been wanting to hoard most of my stuff for when my fic is finally finished... but... I think you've broken my resolve a bit, if I'm entirely honest.

You know what? I'm so inspired by your accuracy and eagerness to talk about my girls that I'm gonna forgo my crippling anxiety regarding my writing skills and instead post a snippet of my WIP fic here as a treat for you. A teaser, if you will. Since I have no idea when the fic in question will actually be done and ready (or when I will be satisfied with it, cause the thing is currently 36,000 words and still slowly climbing). And now you've got me eager to share SOMETHING of my fic with you and anyone that might want to take a peek at it.

Please enjoy this conversation between Dusknoir and Echo. The topic deals a lot with what you'd described up above!! c:

[Note: this is an unedited part of my fic because I am still in the process of writing and it may change in the future, so please be gentle w/ me but I'd love to read any thoughts/comments that pop up while reading!! pls send asks or replies or anything really cause I love you guys]

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“I’m going to tell you something now, and you are going to listen.” Echo commands with a sharp bite in her voice that Dusknoir cannot fathom ignoring. He pauses and then offers a slow nod, waiting, wondering what she could possibly desire to tell him at a time like this, of all things.

Minutes pass as Echo remains rooted in place, still as her own shadow, and her eyes dart around as she stares at the patches of dry grass and sand beneath her paws. Her claws clench and unclench, digging into the earth like daggers as the wind of the forest (it’s trees so close, just behind them, a looming sort of presence that could engulf them whole) whistles through the surrounding branches, carrying stray leaves of many bright greens through the chilling breeze. Dusknoir watches them dance around Echo, twirling, floating down, down, down… but it’s quiet, too quiet, and Dusknoir feels a shiver pass through him when Echo’s voice finally rings out through the silence.

"When I evolved, Sora was petrified," She says, nearly a whisper, an admission that melts away her confidence and appears to bring her a flood of both shame and regret. Her face twists up then, strangely, like she’d felt a twinge of pain from somewhere deep inside the very fabric of her own soul and was unable to quell it. "She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me most days. At first, my appearance… well, it reminded her too much of you. And eventually of someone I used to be.”

Someone I used to be. At that, Dusknoir’s immediate reaction is to recall Echo’s previous life as a human, as the miserable shell of a creature surviving alongside Grovyle that he’d relentlessly hunted in the dark future. A human made of contempt and anger and apathy, who never smiled or laughed or cried or screamed like the old legends said humans would-- an entity that simply existed rather than lived. An echo of a life long dead and buried. But, judging by her tone, by her voice, by some uneasy intuition itching in the back of his mind like a swarm of pestilent Ninjask… he knows that she means something else entirely. Something that she isn’t willing to share. And frankly, that concept utterly terrifies him.

Someone I used to be. Dusknoir wants to speak, to break his own silence, wants to ask the myriad of questions bubbling up in his throat because this isn't the first time she's hinted at another life beyond being human, but those questions die at the source like a flame doused in water. And always the coward, coward, coward, instead he takes the easy way out by doing nothing at all. Whether Echo notices his surge of inner conflict or not-- the nervous wring of his hands and the tremble in his spine that he cannot control under her gaze-- she does not react.

“I’d take a step and Sora would flinch away.” Echo confesses, her markings flickering with light before going dark and dead, as if her body wished to snuff them out entirely, a deep seated rejection, a self-loathing so strong that Dusknoir cannot help but recognize it and empathize, and his heart aches, “It took ages for her to stop shaking when I’d speak. To stop looking at me like-- like I was going to…” 

Echo grimaces like she’s enduring waves of grueling torture and doesn’t finish that string of thought, but it’s not hard to make an educated guess on what went unsaid. Like I was going to betray her. Hurt her. Break her heart. She’s been through so much already and I couldn’t bear to be another influence in the history of her suffering. I hate myself because of how I made her feel. When her eyes went wide in fear and through them I could see myself staring back like some sort of burden, some sort of curse.

“I am not my past.” Proud and true, Echo straightens up and holds her head high, a spark igniting in her eyes, a glint of determination, a will to keep going and going despite such circumstances and strife, despite this horrid, unspeakable past that haunts her so, “And I am definitely not you. It’s taken a while, but I know that much now. I’ve accepted it.”

I am not my past. And I am definitely not you.

A sigh, a breath, and Echo glances at him with a certain sorrow that cannot be described, a sorrow that lingers even through the veil of her tenacity, "But no matter how I feel, no matter my conviction, my shadows still find ways through the cracks. Every time I think I'm getting a grip and that I might finally understand myself… I change all over again." She admits, sounding more angry and tired than defeated now-- like a mirror of her old self, her human self that had clawed and damned and cursed him, despised him more than anything. "I hate it. I hate that I never truly know who I am. That I have to learn about my past through stories others tell me, or through fragments of twisted, broken memories that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Through conflict and pain and… and..."

"Echo," Dusknoir murmurs her name softly, an offering, a potential escape if only she would wish to drop the subject and forget this conversation had ever happened-- if she'd overstepped and needed an excuse to back out, a diversion, an understanding. And briefly, Dusknoir wonders why she is opening up about this particular information, why she would delve into something so vulnerable, so personal. Why she would bring up this hurtful history when it obviously brings her great discomfort.

And then, he gets an answer.

“You’re lucky, Dusknoir." There it is, that wildfire burning in her eyes again. A spark that’s new and bold and startling. But lucky? No, never. He'd have to disagree, accounting the mountain of evidence that was his life and regrettable deeds.

"You already know exactly who you are and what you’ve done, and most importantly why. You have more than a tattered picture of yourself that reflects broken answers. And you can change with that knowledge. I see you trying.” She tells him, searching, looking for something so deeply and Dusknoir wishes he knew what it could be so that he could give it to her, because he would, he would gladly give it to her without a second thought if it meant they could be close again. But he isn’t a fool, and he’s wise enough to know they’ll never be like they were before. “And if somehow I could change, even as half-assed as I have. Well, then what’s your excuse?”

You can do it, say her unspoken words, I believe in you.