#I want to tag some characters but I'm scared

[karmaajr]

IVE DONE THIS ONCE ALREADY BUT ACCIDENTALLY POSTED IT BOTH TIMES THINKING THE SETTINGS WAS ON SCHEDULE (post limit fucking my life up again damnit-) SO IF I MAKE THAT MISTAKE AGAIN I WILL RIP MY FUCKING HAIR OUT 🥰

edit: gonna highlight my answers bcuz I kept yapping what the fuckkk

1) GDGSHDHD I REMEMBER BEING OBSEDSED W SOOO MANY FEMALE CHARACTERS BUT NEVER KNOWING WHY BECAUSE I DIDNT WANNA BE THEM (I wanted to be with them) BUT CANT REMEMBER MOST OF THEIR NAMES NOW.. I DO REMEMBER MAVIS FROM HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA THO!!

2) LIKE YELLOW OR ORANGE!!

3) ..the wattpad drarry fanfiction I found at nine years old that taught me what sex was + that people shipped drarry.. also taught me what a subway sandwich was and how big

4) my pet!! ur my guard dog now :33

5) LIONS!! RAWRR (kangaroos scare me now bcuz of my aussie online older sister explaining some things abt them... :p)

6) MOST OF THEM TBH... I MEAN, WHY MAKE YOUR VILLAN SEXY OR ICONIC IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO EXCUSE THE HORRORS

7) "probably a dyke lol" OR "acts like a child"

8) PJOs MY CURRENT FAV SO IF I WAS A MORTAL LIKE RN, SAME AMOUNT BUT IF I WAS A HALFBLOOD?? FUCKING 40 MINUTES.. AND THATS WISHING GODSPEED 😔😔🙏

9) nope!! :3

10) YESSSS!!!!! GIRLY IM A FEMINIST OFC?? LIKE SHE WAS RAPED THEN REJECTED BY THE ONE WHO SHE TURNED TO FOR HELP AND THEN TURNED INTO A MONSTER, CURSED TO HAVE MORTALS CONSTANTLY TRYING TO KILL FOR THEIR 15 MINUTES OF FAME??? ANYWAYS YEA WHERES MY MEDUSA STANS @????? FRFR

11) I SIMPLY HAVE TOO MANY OTPs TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS QUESTION WITHOUT ANNOYING EVERYBODY W THE AMOUNT OF YAPPING!! SO I SHALL REMIN SILENT

12) CHRISTMAS KIDS OR TREES!!!@ (if I'm feeling particularly emo) BUT IM GENERAL, ANY SONG BCUZ MY ATTENTION SPAN AND CONCENTRATION SKILLS SHITTTT (writing this was a pain in the ass.. js like earlier today because my mum lowkey penetrated my ass which kicking me 💀💀💀)

NOW TAGGING TIMEEEEEE!!!! (also known as the worst time ughh :C)

@panikbutt0n @elswif @carolwif @carolwif911 @duck-duke-goose (U PROBS WONT RESPOND BUT I WANNA SEE IF YOU CAN DO THIS IN CHARACTER) @lee1504 @reyna4ever @iforgetweirdthings

@LITERALLY ANY OTHER MOOT, I LOVE ALL OF YALLLLLL FRFR

My own get to know you game:

Who was your first fictional crush?:

What’s the first colour you think of when I tell you to think of a colour?:

Which fanfiction emotionally scarred you and still makes you shudder to this day?:

I’m coming to your house for dinner, non-negotiable, what are you making me?:

Do you prefer lions or kangaroos?:

Which fictional villain do you brush past the glaringly obvious issues for because you really like them?:

What would accompany your picture in the Burn Book in Mean Girls?:

How many days would you last in the universe of your favourite fandom?:

Have you heard of Mischief Theatre?:

Do you feel sorry for Medusa?:

Which song makes you think of your OTP?:

Which song makes you disassociate and daydream the fastest?:

Tags: @weltato, @snarky-wallflower, @feathertru, @barclaysangel, @fanficwriter284, @silvershewolf247, @shadowbrightshine, @luxury-nightmare and anyone else who wants to have a go, feel free!

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

@hammerhead96 I AM BITING THIS! I am so sorry it took 45 years <3

Anselm Vogelweide x gn!Reader • Rating: PG pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Summary: You paint Anselm's portrait.

Warnings: Fluff, Anselm has siblings here, I'm just making stuff up, little bit of jealous!Anselm, kissing, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2311

“Stop moving.” You glare politely at Anselm over the canvas.  

He smiles sweetly at you from his position on the chair in the middle of the room. The large floor length curtains are drawn, letting in the late morning sunshine. He’s sat at a slight three quarter angle, his scared side facing you. 

It had been his sister that had commissioned you, Adela Vogelweide, a gift for his birthday. The fact that she’d chosen you had surprised you. You knew she had enough personal wealth to hire practically anyone in the world for whatever exorbitant amount they wanted and still consider it small change. 

Adela had seen some of your pieces at a local gallery showing, the curator an old friend of yours, where she had quite loudly enquired about the price of your largest landscape. Paid three times the asking amount, and then said it was still undervalued. 

She had called you up personally after convincing your friend to let her use their phone. The first words she’d spoken to you when you picked up were, “Why are you underselling yourself?” 

Adela was brazen and kind, with a quick temper she had never directed at you. She dyed her hair black, something she delighted in telling you, except for two streaks that framed her face, those she kept in her natural grey. She had also delighted herself in telling you all about her older brother Anselm, and what a nuisance he was, a rapscallion, but a loveable one. And wouldn’t you be a dear and paint his portrait? 

This was your fourth sitting.

“You said I could move a little, my dear?” He gives you a cheeky grin. 

You poke your head around the canvas again, purposefully benign a little more dramatic than you truly need to be, because you know it amuses him. 

“Emphasis on a little.” 

His smile widens. “Am I moving too much?” He feigns innocence badly. 

You give him a look. “Yes. Stop fidgeting.” 

“My leg.” He pouts, and rubs his thigh. 

“Anselm.” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

“That leg is not the one with your brace on.” 

He chuckles and then quickly puts on a mock serious expression. “Can’t my other leg hurt? My, my, this is most uncaring of you, and here I thought you such a sweet person.” 

“Well, you thought wrong then, didn’t you?” You carry on painting, adding a little shading. Most of the sittings so far were just to get a feel for him as a subject. You’d completed several rough sketches and paintings, and taken umteenth reference photos. 

“I don’t think so, my dear, I’m a very good judge of character.” 

“Would you say that runs in the family?” You ask nonchalantly. 

“How so?” 

“Is Adela a good judge of character?” 

He pauses for a moment and then nods, “She is.” 

“She warned me about you.” You say offhandedly and Anselm cackles with glee.

“Did she?” 

“She did.” 

“How marvellous. Did she tell you I’m a wretched and depraved lust filled bloodthirsty tyrant?” 

You pause, “No.”

“What did she say?” He strokes his beard slightly.

“That you were cheeky.” 

He tuts. “Now, that is a gross misrepresentation, I will have to have words with her.” 

“Don’t get me in trouble.” You giggle. 

“Now, now, my dear. She’ll most likely tell me off for some reason, probably for my playful, but oh so charming treatment of you, wouldn’t you say?” 

You give him another look and he laughs. 

“You disagree?” 

“Stop fishing for compliments.”

“Ah, but I must. You haven’t said one kind thing to me all morning.” He folds his arms, pretending to huff. 

“First, that is untrue, second, stop moving.” 

He grins, “My apologies,” and puts his arms back down. “My dear Adela does love to scold me, despite being the younger sibling. You would think she was twelve years my senior, not junior… It is the different father I think.” He smiles fondly. 

“You have different fathers?” 

He nods, “You are enquiring about the surname yes?” 

You nod as well. 

“Well, my mother is Magdalena Vogelwiede, the only child of my grandfather who lived past infancy. She kept the family name and refused to change it when she married, not that any of her husbands would have dared to argue with her, besides all of them coveted the prestige of being part of the Vogelwiede family. All of her children were given her last name.”

“Do you have other siblings?” You ask, still holding your paintbrush but you have given up most pretences of actually working. The way he talked was almost hypnotic. Soothing. You could happily listen for hours. 

“I do, I had an older brother, Wilhelm, who died very young. When my father died, my mother remarried and had Adela and Helena. She divorced my step-father when Helena was two, shame, as I was quite fond of him. She didn’t marry the father of my youngest sister, Libeste. But that was a very good thing, he was a terrible bore.”

You smile, delighting in the fondness in his expression. “Is she still with us?” 

He nods, “She is, going very strong. She lives in Italy with her suitor, a toy boy.”

“Toy boy?” You snort. 

“He’s only sixty eight.” He chuckles. 

“Scandalous.” You grin. 

“I like him very much, his name is Alvin, like the chipmunks. Which is what he said to me the first time I met him, a very sweet man, utterly besotted with my mother, the poor fool.”

“The poor fool?”

“She bullies him so,” Anselm sighs fondly, “But he does love it. So I think they are meant to be with each other.” 

You barely manage another five minutes of painting before Anselm has to take an emergency meeting. He apologises profusely and kisses your hand when you leave. You do your best to hide your giddiness when his lips touch your skin.

The following Thursday you’re back at his house, mansion, just about to get out of your car when your phone rings. Adela. 

You press accept. “Hello, Adela.” 

“My darling, how are you? Are you well?” Her voice practically purrs on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, you?” 

“Fine, fine, listen, I am having a small get together tomorrow night, I will send a car for you. Yes?” 

“I,” You pause, ever so slightly taken aback. “Well…”

“You are free of course?” 

“Well, I was going to work on the portrait-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, you have plenty of time, I understand art works can take years.”

“I don’t think it’ll take me years, I mean-”

“See? You are already ahead of schedule then my darling, 8pm the car will come. It’s a small thing, barely a hundred people, casual dress. And I mean it, wear jeans and a t-shirt if you want, or nothing at all.”

You open your mouth to speak and close it again as she continues.

“I simply must introduce you to my son. Anyway, see you then, ciao!” 

She hangs up before you can even say a word. 

You’re setting up in the ground floor study when Anselm comes in. His expression is stormy, you would almost say bleak if it wasn’t for the hard look in his eyes. 

He sits on the chair without his usual exuberance, muttering a quiet “Good morning.” 

You pause, still setting up your easel. Part of you isn’t sure if you know him well enough to ask about what’s bothering him, even though he’s been nothing but forthcoming and charming with you. You swallow down your anxiety.

“Are you okay?” 

“Hmm,” he nods and doesn’t look at you.”Perfectly well.” 

You bite your thumbnail nervously, but don’t ask again. You set up the rest of your equipment in silence. 

The quiet is odd. You realise you’re so used to hearing him talk, to being swept up in his tales that now the room seems hollow and barren without them. Cold and sterile. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks loudly, echoes sickeningly. 

Nothing seems to be going quite right, your colours are wrong, the shape irregular. 

You’ve been working for around twenty minutes when Anselm finally talks. 

“Has my sister invited you yet?” He’s a little gruff, a huff in his voice.

“I’m sorry?” You look up from your work.

“Invited you… to her gathering tomorrow?” 

“Oh, erm,” You stumble over your words, the hard look he gives you is practically alien, so unlike his usual smiles. “Yes, she called me just as I got here.” 

Anselm’s expression hardens. For a moment you don’t think he’s going to speak again. “She wants you to meet David, her eldest.” 

You pause, not sure if you should reply, but you do anyway. “Yeah, erm, she mentioned it briefly… not that I really got a word in.” You laugh weakly, maybe he was annoyed at how long it was taking you to start on the painting? “Honestly, I was planning on working on your portrait, but I didn’t really get a chance to refuse the invitation.” 

He hums again, sighing and slumps down a little in his chair. “He got divorced last year, you know?” 

It takes you a full minute to realise he’s talking about David. 

“Clean break, his ex-wife was very reasonable. No children.” He sighs again, “A perfectly eligible bachelor.” He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his curls in a completely different direction. 

“Anselm,” you tut, briefly forgetting the tense atmosphere, you walk around the easel and towards him, your hand outreached to fix his hair before you catch yourself. You stop, pausing right in front of him.

He looks up at you with soft eyes. “I apologise, my love. I did not mean to disrupt your work with my bad mood.” 

“It’s alright,” you smile slightly, “We all get annoyed.” 

“I’m sure you are rapturous in anger, all dragon fire and destruction.” 

You snort. “I am not.” 

He smiles and leans forward, pressing his head towards your hand. “I am sorry I disturbed my hair.” 

“It’s fine,” you lightly run your fingers through his curls, careful not to catch or pull as you move it back into its previous style. You motion for him to sit back so that you can position the last few rogue strands. You touch his hair for a little longer than absolutely necessary, swallowing as you press your fingers deeper. 

Anselm breathes in deeply, closing his eyes for a second and presses closer to your touch. 

“Is your nephew getting engaged or something, does Adela want me to paint a portrait of him too? Is that why I’m invited?” You ask innocently as you finally adjust his hair to your liking. You drop your hand to your side, a little disappointed that you no longer have a reason to touch him.

He opens his eyes slowly, staring up at you with a small frown. “My sweet, are you being serious, or pulling my leg? Because if it is the latter, I must say it is poor form considering my injury.” He motions a little dramatically to his brace.

“What?” You shrug a little, trying to work out what the hell he’s on about.

A small smile pulls at his lips when he realises you are being sincere. “My dear Adela wants to set you up with David, tomorrow is a formal introduction of sorts.” 

You pause, a little dumbfounded and Anselm chuckles. 

“My, the look on your face, you do not seem pleased.” He, however, is the happiest you have seen him all morning. 

“Here,” Anselm stands, “I’ll get my assistant to bring you a photo of David,” the tease in his voice is undeniable. “So that you may gaze about the face of your future beloved.” 

You finally find your voice. “Anselm.” You scold.

He grins wickedly, turning to face you fully. “I do love it when you use that tone with me, my sweet. Admonishing me does suit you.” He steps a fraction closer, raising his hand to lightly brush your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “I would happily die a thousand deaths to be under your thumb.” 

You swallow. “I don’t want you to die a thousand deaths… or be under my thumb.” You say softly, trying to say that you want him safe and alive and of his own strange but endearing free will.

But Anselm’s expression falls and he lowers his hand, mistaking your words for rejection. “I apologise again-”

Panic grips your chest and you blurt out the first thing that comes into your head. “But you can be under me if you want… as in…” Heat rolls over your face and you screw up your eyes. 

He laughs happily, stepping closer again so that you are chest to chest. He lightly traces your bottom lip with his thumb. “May I kiss you, my love?” 

With a giddy rush of energy, you lean forward and press your mouth to his in a soft, sweet kiss. Anselm moans happily, wrapping one arm around you. When you break the kiss he leans his forehead against yours. 

“Please forgive my foul mood earlier, I was… distressed.” 

“Why?” You tease, a sugar rush of happiness overtaking you. 

“Because I thought you were going to spend the rest of your days riding my nephew instead of me.” 

You snort, unable to stop yourself, and quickly cover your mouth with your hand. 

“Oh no, please, let me hear you laugh.” He gently takes your wrist and litters your cheeks with kisses, until you’re giggling uncontrollably. 

“Well, I’ll have to let Adela know there’s no need for me to go tomorrow.” 

Anselm tuts and raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think so, my love, I think it will be much more exciting to turn up on my arm and then proceed to make out messily on every available surface.” 

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes ho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood 

@pygmi-cygni @hammerhead96 @emma23 @sub-aro @killerdollz

 @maplemind  @mwltwo @loonymagizoologist @dameronshandholder @queerly-anxious

@homuraak3mi @swiftiegirliepop @oscarssimp @milkypompon @eternallyvenus 

@mandytrekkie @lounilu @avengersinitiative2012 @pigeonmama @marcsb1tch 

@iolaussharpe-24 @chaithetics @DowBaStan @faretheeoscar@lonelyisamyw-0love 

@queerponc @twwcs @Spnwhore2430 @mari-thesimp @ominoose

@ierofrnkk @have-you-seen-my-sanity @to-be-a-sunshine @blushingrn @missdictatorme

@musicalnacho @buckyssugarchick @howellatme @sapphossongbird

[minathered]

If you enjoy a polarizing work of art...

People are going to criticize it. Hell people criticize works of art widely regarded to be masterpieces. Its a fundamental part of all art. And the thing is? Someone critiquing something you like or love should never stop you from loving it.

I'm a World of Darkness fan and holy shit there's a lot to critique about WoD over the years.

I'm a Warhammer 40k fan, there's a lot people dislike about that setting. Some is fair, some isn't.

I am a FFXIV player lord knows I know the pacing of ARR is a fucking mess.

But all these critiques and more have never stopped me loving the stuff I love. They've never come across as attacks on me or as though they're trying to take my happiness away. They've never come across as me being told I can't like a thing.

Which brings me to Dragon Age and yes I will eventually stop rambling about it and no this isn't unique to Dragon Age but new release the topic's coming up.

I've seen on here and on Reddit and Twitter (Its Twitter, Elon, not X) that people criticizing the game are somehow "Taking away the joy" or "Making people feel guilty" for liking it and I'm sorry but that's unhealthy, right?

When art is reduced to a product to zealously defend, when you refuse to engage in any criticism of the thing you like for fear it'll "Take away your joy" its...well worrying.

Here's the thing, if you love Veilguard? Man am I happy for you. Maybe even a little envious cause I wanted to buy the game and love it. But I can't and that's a little sad to me.

I love Dragon Age. Leliana and Zevran and later Anders (Oh sweet sweet Anders) helped a scared and lonely closeted Mina feel a little less alone.

Dragon Age means a lot to me. It clearly means a lot to lot of you and the thing is, most people with issues with VG aren't trying to take that away from you. Obviously there are a lot of anti-woke gifting shitheads, but those assholes aren't worth your time or mine. Block em if you can.

Because ultimately, if you like or love Veilguard, nothing I say should take that away from you. And if the discourse is too much right now? If you genuinely can't handle seeing the negative posts? Take a step back from the internet, avoid the critical tags and just...enjoy the game. Make memories with the characters and quests you love.

Truly, I'm happy for you all. Even with all my issues, it makes me glad to know Dragon Age does have passionate fans. I don't want you to stop having fun.

I just wish Bioware gave you all a better game, in my opinion.

[catgirl-catboy]

I love it when characters are exes. (not always in a romantic sense) It is the most tense and emotionally charged relationship they could have.

Exes do not have a single bad track. Give me two exes and I am immediately invested.

[grayintogreen]

Respectfully, but a character can be and SHOULD BE allowed to be more than one thing without it being considered "contradictory", "retconning," or "negative character development."

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[hermitcraftx]

just got a dm abt one of my posts and y'all please don't try and show the hermits (or any minecraft youtuber or content creator for that matter) my posts, i'm uncomfortable with it and don't want any of my posts shown to a cc. if they stumble upon it naturally that's unfortunate but i can live with it since i do maintag a lot (something i REALLY need to stop doing tbh i already know i need to make a tagging system just for my blog that wont clog results) but going out of ur way to show a cc is entirely different and something i am not comfortable with.

no hate to the person at all but even if i wasn't a little silly and weird with it sometimes i wouldn't be comfortable with it, i want my blog to be a purely fandom only space with none of the creators involved <3 please respect this

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

trying to psych myself up to finally do oc refs by doing fandom-related refs instead: volume 1

wanted to update my yuma from whatever tf this au is so he was a bit more unique... takes inspo from a lot of different things while also trying to be its own sorta thing? which is fitting given the au ;)

bonus chibi now that i'm also figuring out how tf to do chibis lol:

[real-reulbbr-band]

some Coricojerrie headcanons

⪼﹕As far as goals, these two are very different, Mungojerrie has no set goal, he wants whatever gratifies him in the moment, stealing from the next house, emulating Tugger, etc. Coricopat doesn’t understand this, probably because he has so many goals he wants to work towards, most of them summing up to wanting to support the Jellicle community as a whole in a meaningful way. 

Despite their differences, Coricopat occasionally tries to gently nudge Mungojerrie towards considering more lasting accomplishments.He tells him that the short-lived happiness of his little escapades will fade, and that investing in something more substantial could bring greater fulfillment in the long run.

Mungojerrie does listen to this advice with a mixture of sarcasm and amusement; he finds amusement in Coricopat's sincerity, and teases Cori about being overly concerned about him, and tries to highlight the desire he has to live in the present. Even if Mungojerrie isn't ready to fully embrace the idea of long-term goals himself, he does, in the back of his mind, appreciate Coricopat's comments and acknowledge the genuine worry.

⪼﹕Coricopat does tend to sleep with his eyes open, which isn’t completely unusual for cats; no, he sleeps with them wide open on occasion. As if he were just staring off into the distance. 

Coricopat's unique sleeping habit is a direct consequence of his psychic abilities, which grant him heightened awareness even during sleep. In this state, Coricopat experiences vivid visions, with the clarity and duration of these visions influenced by his proximity to his twin sister, Tantomile. When Coricopat and Tantomile are together, their visions are clearer and longer, often shared between them in synchrony. However, when apart, Coricopat's visions become shorter and less distinct. Despite this, he attempts to interpret these visions independently before discussing them with Tantomile. Surprisingly, depending on when they fall asleep, Tantomile and Coricopat frequently see the same visions at differing times.

Back to Mungojerrie, though; he’s observant; he needs to be in order to steal so well, so it didn’t take him too long to decipher whether Coricopat was staring off or "resting.” One particular sign that Coricopat was mellowing out was that his tail would swish around from left to right every minute or so; if he was resting, however, his tail wouldn’t move at all. When he’d catch him in the act, he’d normally wait by Coricopat to see if he would tell him what he saw.

Any other cat wouldn’t tell Mungojerrie anything; he was known to cause trouble, after all, but Coricopat didn’t mind. In fact, he found it helpful to discuss what he saw as it helped him interpret it better, and Mungojerrie did provide insights Coricopat may not have always thought of as an explanation, regardless of if they were wrong or right.

⪼﹕Coricopat is the more social of the psychic twins, so Mungojerrie always took the liberties of bothering him over Tantomile. He became quite fixated on the idea of outsmarting Coricopat in particular; he’d insist that Coricopat didn’t have any powers at all and would pose absurd questions to him in an effort to "prove" his argument. Even when Coricopat effortlessly answered these questions, Mungojerrie would dismiss it as luck or coincidence, promptly posing another question—often unrelated and equally absurd—just to keep the banter going. Like what he had for supper two moons ago, or how he’s going to feel about the weather tomorrow.  

Despite Mungojerrie's persistent teasing, Coricopat remained patient and good-natured, his understanding demeanor shining through. Unwilling to admit defeat, Coricopat would sometimes respond with vague answers when unsure of how to answer Mungo’s questions, enjoying the faux rivalry he shared with Mungojerrie. However, when he was confident in his knowledge, Coricopat made sure to assert his correctness, taking pleasure in proving Mungojerrie wrong. He enjoyed the humorous challenge of their relationship and didn't mind repeating himself to his foolish mate in order to get his point across.

[rexcaliburechoes]

diamant, the horrors chamber, and why he’s just so fun to mess with // the diamant-sertation series

i’d talked a little about this before on twitter about diamant angst and if i’m doing alright (i’m fine just biochemistry major go brrrr) and i just remembered this:

and i wanted to think about this for a little bit. i’m going to try and not retread old ground, but that’s kind of impossible if i want to break him in a realistic way.

but i was mostly thinking about how easy it is to destabilise him. i might be woobifying him too much, but i swear, i’ve been through this rigamarole before with a variety of characters. i’ve hurt characters over and over and over again, testing their limits, watching them bend and potentially break, and diamant has keeled over the fastest. it’s kind of funny in a bit of a twisted way.

but i mean it: why does he bend to easily compared to others?

i think it’s because he Refuses to experience The Horrors, and so when something encroaches on that tenuously stretched self control, he simply cannot deal with anything new, so he shuts down. you’d think he’d have a fight response to new stressors (he is of brodia; if you can’t fight, then what kind of brodian are you?) but i think he’s gone past that point. he’s dealing with enough already as it is, just One More Thing just will set him off. he’s tired, overwhelmed, and bottles everything up because He Should Be Able To Deal With It.

there’s definitely an allegory of being undiagnosed neurodivergent in here somewhere but we don’t have time to unpack all that.

but since diamant is so easily burnt out (which, haha, funny fire trauma go brr), he’s just an easy target to picking at all of his weaknesses and flaws. diamonds have very predictable cutting planes, and if manage to hit one just right, the entire crystal will shatter.

[angeltism]

when 99% of the content of one of uur fragments is weird icky stuff

[zoekrystall]

Ik I barely post anything personal but anyways I should go to bed but that wallpaper post made me go hey I should finally change to obey me and then I found smth and am now here configuring my whole phone w new apps bc lucifer help. I still feel so sorry for just leaving him I'm sorry babygirl. (played it at the beginning and then stopped until nightbringer)

Shut up I know 😭

It is only for android if anyone sees it and wants it here

I own this person my life this is so neat already. Also ngl partially hoping the night lines will make me go to bed. I listen to fictional chars way more no wonder our main caretaker is a fictive sjsks

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I don't really have a hard-set design for any of the QSMP characters in mind because I'll see all kinds of cool fanart that look totally different and just go "Yeah that's them!" because the designs are all flexible to me.

...This does, however, make it very hard to translate their designs into custom Figmas because I can't decide on a single look.

[tenok]

.

[tvrningout-a]

chiyo poked her head up like " do i get screen time today?? " and yes maybe lemme write someone else for a second pls

[zhongrin]

festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

© zhongrin | 2023  ✼  no repost・translations・plagiarism of any kind・ai data mining. rebloggers get a free cup of tea ♡

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ)  ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

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