#I will in fact build this tag brick by brick on my own if I have to

[virfujiwara]

December Summertimeeeee. Let me ramble in the tags for a sec lol plssss hear me out

[divinegrey]

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ ʙʟᴜᴇ / ᴊɪɴx x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sorry for the wait everybody!! been writing other things in the meantime, arcane hasn't been my sole focus. also i have homework and exams. but here's something to appease all of you!! anon, i hope i did this prompt justice!

prompt: I'd like to request a Jinx x Fem! Reader. I like the idea of the reader being a follower of Jinx, as I think the dynamic could be fun. I think it could be cool to explore a follower of Jinx getting to know her and realizing that she's more than just a symbol. She's a multifaceted individual.

words: 1585

warnings: none

It started when she caught you tagging the side of a building. With her face, no less. 

With all the shit going down in Zaun in the wake of Silco’s death and every gang leftover fighting for scraps of power, it was only time before Jinx caught up to the fact that while yes, her face is plastered everywhere on wanted posters, there are about a dozen more spray-painted graffiti tags of her over them. Which was the goal of what you were doing when she dropped down from a building and walked to your side. 

All she did was look at the statuesque version of her face, washed in shades of blue, and say, “My nose doesn’t look like that.” 

And she was right.

Of course, with time, you got better at it. The wanted posters did a mean disservice, honestly. The only thing they got correct were the pink eyes, pink eyes that followed you when you went to your shitty box of an apartment and flopped onto a mattress flattened by years of use. You’d go to sleep, wake up, grab your paint duffel, and head back out again. The nice thing about Zaun is that there’s always an empty spot just waiting to be tagged. 

Somehow, Jinx always finds you. 

“You know people see you as a leader, right?” You say, shaking a can of neon pink, the ball rattling around inside the canister. You glance over your shoulder to where Jinx sits on some pipes connected to the wall, her braids dangling and the gold bullet casings wrapped around reflecting the faint light that falls through the fissures. With a gesture to your own head of hair, dyed an insane hodge-podge of bright colors, blue included, you continue, “Silco’s gone. Whole world down here has turned upside down. But for the first time in a while, we’ve got hope. Cuz of you. Cuz of what you did to those fuckin’ Pilties.” 

“For all the good it did,” Jinx remarks, a dryness to her tone you’ve come to know and love. 

“I’m serious. C’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t know the reason why I keep painting you? Why a dozen other taggers I know keep painting you? Why the color blue is nearly sold out in every damn shop?” You kneel down, arcing a curve of pink paint along the grey brick wall, moving quick and precise. Overthinking it makes it worse. “I’m not wearing spray-painted clothes in your colors for nothin, Jinx.” 

She turns, peering at you. In the shadows, her eyes seem to reflect some more, glowing like a cat’s would. “Because y’all have some weird, deluded sense that I’m a leader, or somethin’.” 

“You are. To me. To us.” You point at the other tags in the alleyway, some of them copies of the same mark you’ve seen a dozen times around town. Jinx’s name, sigils of BOOM! and explosives doodled about. You twist and take a seat on the scaffolding, your legs dangling off the side of it. “I didn’t know you when I first started drawing you. I heard what you did, and I thought damn, there’s someone out there willing to actually do something. In a single day, you did more than Silco ever did in years. Sure, we might be going head long into a war, but dying free is better than living under someone else’s boot.” 

Jinx hums. She leaps off the pipes, crossing the gap between you and her with ease, landing on the wooden scaffolding. She straightens up, gazing at the half-finished tag you’re working on. With a hum, she turns to you, and puts something in your hand. Before you have the time to look down and figure out what it is, Jinx says, “Nozzle control. Quality on some of your cans are shit, no offense. Slap that thing on it and you won’t have an issue after that.” 

“Oh, thanks—” 

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx steps off the scaffolding, landing on the ground below with a THUD. “And for the record, I ain’t the kinda person to follow.” 

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to convince me!” You call down, grinning from ear to ear. Her brows furrow together, then a small huff, a hint of a smile on her own face. She walks away, off to do… whatever it is that she does when she’s not hanging out with you. 

It isn’t for some time that you see her again. You’d say you’re worried, but you pass through the crowds hearing whispers of Jinx sightings. Every day, it seems another head of blue hair appears, the quiet signs of revolution brewing in the heart of Zaun as the enforcers grow more and more strict, searching anyone and everyone for some hint or clue to find the one that destroyed the Council Chamber in Piltover. You’ll never say a word. 

You walk into your apartment. Work was… work, boring and mind-numbing as it always is. You wonder if you can handle another day of it, but another day will bring another chance of seeing her out there, so you decide not to fly off the handle just yet. You shrug off the soot-stained work clothes, and where you reach for your paint-splattered jacket, it isn’t there. 

Instead, a note. 

Never had anyone believe in me quite like you. The Hound’s statue, midnight. Come and get it. 

With the pink lettering and the doodles of monkeys and bombs scribbled across the page, it doesn’t need to be said just who left this note. You snatch it off the wall, utterly beaming; Gently, you fold it into fourths, tucking it into your shirt. Thank god for the late shift— less waiting!

Any of the weariness you might’ve felt before is gone as you race through the streets, taking any and every shortcut you know. The night is quiet, what with the enforced curfew put up by the Pilties to discourage wandering, not that they’ve done a good job of it. Zaun is Zaun, and the cogs down here will always keep turning, whether Piltover likes it or not. 

When you arrive at the open plaza where the statue erected to Vander, the Hound of the Underground, is, your mouth drops in shock to find the entire plaza covered, every square inch of it, in neon paint. Sigils upon sigils that you have seen time and time again, glowing in the dark. It reaches all the way to the statue, pink highlights in Vander’s hair and blue accents along his metal jacket. 

Sitting on the shoulder of the statue, paint can in one hand and your jacket in the other, is Jinx. 

“Shoulda known you’d be a little early. Good thing, I work fast,” Jinx remarks. She crooks a finger at you to come closer, and you do, taking care to step over the paint lines on the stone. You’re a little in awe of the work she’s done— how has nobody taken notice? Come to think of it, you heard there was a scuffle a few blocks away. The logistics don’t seem to matter anymore the closer you get to her. 

You arrive at the base of the statue. “How’d you even know where I live?” 

“Sweets, there are a lot of things I know about you. And a lotta things you know about me. Things that might drive other people away, but not you,” Jinx says, something like an angel as she looks down upon you from the statue. In the flash of a second and the trace of neon light left in the sky, she’s standing in front of you, your back pressed against the statue. The beam of moonlight that breaks through shines on her, her shimmer-pink eyes locked onto your frame. “You keep sticking to the inside my brain, can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Could say the same for you,” you reply, a little breathless. “Why’d you do all this? Get my jacket and bring me here?” 

“Cuz you showed me somethin’ important. That people, for whatever crazy reason they got in their head, believe in me,” Jinx says. She holds out your jacket to you, and you take it, slipping your arms through the sleeves and fixing the collar so it stands upright. Her eyes go from bottom to top, taking her sweet time. “I wanna show em what I can do. Give those people with my blue in their hair a reason to keep going. To keep fighting.” 

“You have me. All the way, Jinx,” you say, putting a hand over the front of your jacket, where a pink heart has been painted. “So what do you wanna do? Other than all this?”

“Right now?” Jinx cocks a grin. “I wanna kiss you.” 

What? You blink, wondering if you heard that right, but her taking a step closer to you only confirms that yes, you did hear it right. You swallow the nerves, finding your cheeks hurting from how hard you’re smiling. “And then what?” 

“And then, we show Zaun all the fun we have to offer, and we tell Piltover to shove their Hextech where the sun don’t shine,” Jinx finishes, her hands grabbing the lapels of your jacket and pulling you in. Your lips touch hers, something you never thought would happen, not in your wildest dreams. 

But here you are, arms wrapped around Jinx as she kisses you in the streets of Zaun, the cry of revolution soon to come. 

~~~~~

A/N: thank you for reading!! comments are always appreciated <3

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: iii.

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

If you thought that on December 8th you would get a break from Gojou Satoru in your life, you were very much so wrong.

At this hour, there isn't even an opportunity to even try meeting up with your friends. They're all in school, one without the luxury of giving students the day off when a birthday or two comes around. You really do have to hope and pray for an opportunity to hang out to fall into your lap. It was one of your few promises to yourself when you entered the world of fighting against curses rather than passively living with them.

Even if you were living out an otaku's dream of fighting evil, you wouldn't forget the normalcy you were leaving behind.

It's just a lot easier said than done now that you're no longer in it ー not that you truly ever were as someone born to see curses.

At the very least, though, if things had been a bit different, you could have at least spent the hours leading up to your birthday with your actual friends instead of the class menace. I don't even know why he's here, you grumble as you skulk forward through the crowd. There are so many things Gojou could be doing besides being in your vicinity.

He could have gone to an arcade.

He could have stayed in his room playing video games. No, instead he's here with you smack dab in the middle of town because it would have been too boring on his own otherwise. Can't he be bored somewhere else? You again wallow over the fact your friends are in school at this present moment before deciding that is likely a good thing. Gojou does not need to meet your personal circle of friends.

"I'm bored," Gojou whines, lazily trailing behind you. "What's the point of doing this if we already know they're throwing us a party?"

My thoughts exactly, you huff. You pointedly ignore the fact that you've been completely fine with the arrangement prior to it being your turn. Birthday party set up is a different ordeal. There's usually plenty to keep you both separated from one another. "Take it up with, Fujioka-sensei and Yaga-sensei," you sigh, as you try to find something that can make time go faster. Your stomach growls and you bite your bottom lip in irritation. I shouldn't have skipped breakfast. But in their haste to boot you and Gojou out of the dorms, you forgot to grab something.

Gojou you could understand. But why you?

He's the one who shakes boxes of presents even if they're his.

You're as a mild-mannered as they come.

"Screw walking around, we might as well just find somewhere to eat," you look over your shoulder at the boy and he shrugs back, fine with the change of plans. "I'm pretty sure there's a Johnny's somewhere close by." Even a hole-in-the-wall restaurant will do.

"What about over there?" Gojou nods his chin far at the first building that catches his eye.

"There?" You raise an incredulous brow, resting your hands on your hips. It's no Johnny's, it seems a bit more cutesy than that with its quaint brick walls and frosted windows. The Christmas decorations leave little to be desired. "I don't want to deal with Santa in my ear the whole time."

Gojou points over to the establishment again and you trail after his finger until he stops at a bright, cherry-red sign, "but there's a discount."

Discount?

Christmas Lovey-Dovey Special: Couple's Receive 50% Off!

You share a look for approximately three seconds before your hands are clasping one another with much enthusiasm as you practically skip to the restaurant in question. "You know, darling, you really do come up with the best ideas, sometimes," you beam, eyes practically sparkling. If there is one thing people love universally whether rich or poor, it's a damn discount. And if holding hands and acting lovey dovey with Gojou means getting half off on a random discount for breakfast, you'll fold faster than Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice.

"Only sometimes?" Gojou croons and you're sure he's fluttering his eyelashes. "I'm pretty sure you mean all the time, cupcake."

Don't push it, your eyes narrow.

You get a shit-eating grin in return. "Table for two please," Gojou holds up two fingers with his free hand as you approach the doors, just as a hostess passes by. "We're just celebrating our birthdays!"

"He's December 7th," you point over to Gojou with a dreamy sigh.

"She's December 9th," Gojou nudges you lightly with a grin. "We're soulmates, it's pretty much a sign we were born for each other. Celebrating on the 8th is a happy medium, right, honey?"

"Satoru, please," your grip on his hand tightens in warning as you chuckle sheepishly. You're being too extra, dumbass. Gojou grins despite that, squeezing back just as hard but twice as obnoxious. "You're embarrassing me. She doesn't want to hear all of that sappy stuff. Don't indulge him, he's just in a good mood because we're partying with our friends later."

The hostess, bless her heart, takes Gojou's excessiveness in stride. She definitely doesn't get paid enough to deal with your antics. "What a sweet coincidence," she smiles politely. "Follow me right this way," she says before leading you to a table not too far away by a window. She's tired of dealing with couples, you hold back a look of pity. May her shift almost be over.

Within seconds of looking at the menu, you already know what you want to order. "I'm getting the drunken udon," you tell Gojou unnecessarily. "And the grapefruit juice. It's got grapefruit chunks in it."

Gojou doesn't even attempt to hide his disgust. When it came to fruit, grapefruit is the only he hates the most. You weren't fond of grapefruit when you were younger, but in the past 6 months you developed a taste for it when you realized it was the one drink in the dorm fridge Gojou doesn't touch. It's not that bad once you get used to. "Right, I forgot you and Utahime hate sweets," Gojou clicks his tongue, unimpressed. "You have boring taste buds. At least look at the special menu before getting something this place serves all the time." He points at a sickeningly pink strawberry soda too large for one person and two heart-shaped straws. "We should get this one instead. And the waffles."

"I like sweets, I just don't wanna taste the diabetes when I consume it," you argue back. You even love strawberries. You just know that the amount of sugar in that drink is likely enough to put a caveman in a coma. There's sweet and then there's the unnatural abominations that Gojou eats on a regular. What's scarier is that his justification is that it helps fuel his brain power or something dumb like that. You're pretty sure he ripped the idea straight out of a manga and is hoping no one notices. "You drink most of it then if we get it. Talk shit about my udon all you want, I'm still ordering it."

"We're getting it," Gojou replies promptly, no room left for argument. Whatever, there's grapefruit juice back in the dorms.

I'm grabbing a water just in case then.

The water is a godsend five minutes later when you are able to confirm that the Lovers' Strawberry Cloud does, in fact, have enough sugar to put a caveman in a coma. One sip and you regretted all of your life choices that led you to this very moment. "You finish it," you mutter after gulping half of your icy water down.

He's so happy about it, you're sure this was planned from the start.

Thankfully, your food arrives not too long afterward. The only real hiccup about the customer service is the waiter giving you the wrong plates. "Here you go," his lips curled upwards gently as he placed Gojou's waffles by your hands. It's only when he tries to give your udon to Gojou that the birthday boy in question stopped the motion with a lazy hand.

"The waffles are mine, actually," Gojou deadpans, passing your plate in your direction with one hand. With a clumsy sputter, the issue is resolved in seconds and your respective meals are placed in front of the right person.

You grimace, holding back a gag of frustration when Gojou wastes no time is shoving his food down his throat. Ravenously as he eats, somehow his cheeks stay clear of sticky mess coating them. Of course, Gojou even eats pretty. You're a hater, but you can give credit where credit is due. Gojou Satoru is, objectively speaking, very pretty. To be honest, all of your classmates are hot. It's almost unfunny how there isn't one average person in their ranks, yourself included of course. Gojou is just the only classmate that's this annoying about it. It's such an insult that someone with such a shitty attitude is this pretty. Where's Utahime to rant and groan with when you need her?

When your stomach growls again, you shake your head. Eat first, hate later.

You relish the taste with an enthusiastic moan. Drunken udon is the absolute best.

"Give me a bite?"

You blink once,

twice.

"No," you look at the white-haired sorcerer like he's grown a second head. "Gojou, drunken udon has chili in it." And yet in spite of your explanation, the prodigal son of the Gojou Clan still leans over enthusiastically, mouth wide open expectantly. "Yeah, I'm not letting you eat this," you snort before taking another bite of your meal. The texture of the noodles and the bell paper, the blend of the chili and garlic. It really is heaven in every bite.

"Some girlfriend you are, you don't even care that I'm starving," apparently the lovey dovey waffle platter on the table means nothing to him. There's a pause and he must have glanced down at his plate because a moment later he added, "this means nothing."

You roll your eyes, "hey genius, a true girlfriend that cares about you won't let you eat something she knows you don't like."

"But [First]," he groans.

"Why do you even want this this, you can't even handle curry that's barely above mild!"

"You're making it look good!"

"Because it is," you reply like it's obvious. For anyone who likes spice, drunken udon is delicious. "Gojou, no," you barely stifle your snickers as you remember the day you were reminded that Gojou and spice weren't compatible in the slightest. All it took was one bite into a hot cheetoh he stole from a box of snacks your parents mailed to you for a small taste of home to send him into a coughing fit so bad you almost felt bad for the guy. "You can't handle the hot cheetohs my parents send. I really don't know what to tell you other than you are not built like that, please stop."

"First of all, I don't know what you're talking about," you shake your head with a sigh as the argument continues. How someone could be this persistent to eat something their stomach can't handle, you don't know. "And second, since then I've become a man." That was literally two weeks ago.

You shrug with a sigh, "if you really want it then." You did your part in warning him, the rest is on Gojou. With a whispered 'yes!' that was far too smug, Gojou opened his mouth expectantly once more and you finally relented in feeding him.

One second.

Two seconds-

That's all it takes before Gojou's face contorts in pain and displeasure.

"Geez, how you can eat this kind of stuff, you can't even taste it over the spice!" Wordlessly, you set down your chopsticks to pass over a napkin and watch as he spits the noodley mush into it. The amusement from watching Gojou fan his tongue and lips like they're on fire is indescribable. "Why would you let me eat this?!" If you were worried about sharing the much-too-sugary couple's drink beforehand, you don't anymore as your classmate makes quick work of ingesting it.

"You said your tastebuds had gotten stronger since the last time."

"And you trusted me?!" Gojou's sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose to show wide blue eyes in disbelief.

"I didn't," there are a few giggles from the table to your right and you have to purse your lips together to stop yourself from joining them. Your 'boyfriend' just looks at you in utter disbelief and betrayal, rambling on and on about his woes. "Oh stop being a baby, you spat it out so you'll be fine now. Here," you reach over to grab his fork, lifting a piece of whipped cream covered waffle with a thin slice of strawberry to boot. "Heal with the power of sugar." Grumbling all the while, your boyfriend of the hour clamped his mouth down on the goods. "Better?"

When you get another mumble but no complaints, you decide that's a 'yes' and go back to your own food. "Just try not to overdo it with the sweets. We still have cake and ice cream later." You love whipped cream on waffles as much as the next person, but the amount on Gojou's plate is unholy.

"This is better than the hellfire you call food anyway," your eyes roll but your mood is surprisingly at a high. Not even Gojou and his dramatics can spoil a meal, it seems. You also can't deny that knowing he won't be touching your udon the rest of your time there also lifts your spirits. "This is the perfect amount of sweet. The perfect amount of anything," your eyes dart between the whipped cream and your classmate, deadpan disbelief all over your face. "I'm serious. The strawberries aren't sweet so it all works out." When the disbelief doesn't leave your face, Gojou points his fork in your direction. "Try it."

Reluctant, you lean over to take a tentative bite. Oh.

You blink and make a noise of pleasant surprise. The tartness of the strawberries really balanced out the sweetness of the whipped cream. "Not bad," you lick the leftover whipped cream on your lips as Gojou continues gorging himself. From the corner of your eye, you see the people a table away giggling and whispering at your exchange.

You must be selling the couple's bit quite well.

"People in this country really make a big deal of indirect kisses," you say quietly enough for the two of you, returning to your own spicy goodness. "I didn't even know what they were when I moved here. I shared food and drinks like this all the time back home." Cousins, friends and other neighborhood kids that dance across your memories over the seasons from soda to ice cream to fruit. That came to a crashing halt when, during an after school heist at a burger joint, you nearly died drinking lychee soda and angled the straw for your friend Hide to try. Then everyone kept on making jokes about us being a thing and it started getting too awkward to hang around each other because he thought I had a crush on him. Food sharing politics were different from country to country, what a twist. "I guess that's a piece of culture shock no one ever really tells you about when you move to a new country."

Gojou shrugs at your nonchalant observations, "it's not a big deal for me. I just eat what I want."

"That's because you're a food thief."

Another shrug, a lack of denial. Details, details. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you continue eating.

This isn't so bad actually, you look out the window, watching as passersby make their own ways to their destinations. Living out their lives while you're some random extra eating drunken udon in a window.

To them, you're not [Full Name], you're just a random face they won't remember if they'll even see you in the first place. It's feelings like that fills you melancholy and fascination. No curses, no sorcerers and no Jujutsu Jesus. You wonder briefly if Gojou ever has such thoughts. To one part of the world he's the one who changed its very balance. To another part, he's just some guy. Just some random guy who happens to have a penchant for wearing sunglasses indoors. If it ever looms over his mind, you can't tell nor are you close enough you think he'd tell you. Maybe he tells Suguru or something. You see a flash of white and red in your peripheral vision and when you look, there's another mouthful of waffle in your face. This is such a weird combination of food, yet you take another bite anyway. You raise a few noodles of your own and mumble over a mouthful, "want another bite of mine?"

"Yeah no, I'm good," the white-haired sorcerer replies without missing any beats and you snicker. You wonder how much time will pass before he decides to test his luck with spice all over again. You have no doubt it won't take long.

A temporary truce between Gojou and the We Hate Gojou Alliance and on your birthday of all days. Well, almost your birthday. The small day set between you both to encapsulate both. Apparently, when his obnoxious levels and extreme lack of respect is dialed down to a 2, Gojou is a lot more tolerable than usual. Talk about a birthday surprise.

The rest of your lunch is eaten in relative silence but it isn't uncomfortable, you decide as you stuff yourself with a mixture of savory and sweet. Gojou tops off the last of the waffles with a satisfied with stretch of his arms before you split the bill. Good gods, I love a discount, you sigh in satisfaction as you finally make your way to leave. "We should probably start heading back to the school right?" It shouldn't take that long to set up a party. There's only one cake. "We probably have a few hours until they're done with the cake and setting up decorations."

"Might as well walk off all the calories so there's room for later," he shrugs and he's about to put his hands in his pocket before opting to grab your hand. "Let's go pet Hachiko or something."

Off to Shibuya you go then.

The grand finale of your pretending to be a couple is nothing special. You simply walk out the door, matching smiles on your faces as you pass by the staff.

When you finally exit the building, you shudder at the cold autumn wind that hit your face. Your hand tightens around Gojou's, clutching for warmth instinctively. Of course his hands are permanently warm. "What are you, a furnace?" Gojou grins smugly when you lift your intertwined hands, scrutinizing his with a squint somewhere between envy and curiosity. He has nice hands, you note. They're soft, but not so unbelievably soft you would think he was some civilian. His palms are a touch coarse, but nothing uncomfortable to hold, with no scars or blemishes to be seen. Must be the perk of utilizing Limitless at his leisure. "Why do you get to be blessed with warm hands?"

"Maybe the universe just likes me more," he replies with ease.

Considering his future is the one that's boring and yours is the one marked with death, that must truly be the case.

"Must be."

Happy Birthday to us.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra

If you're wondering what you got for your birthday: Shoko and Utahime both tipped in to get you a Yamashita Tatsuro CD. Mei Mei just tossed over a gift card and called it a day. Suguru thoughtfully got you a book next in the line of a series you're fond of. And Gojou? Well, you got to be in his presence and it was actually tolerable. Congratulations?

[angeart]

AU Masterpost [tags]

I think it's time. So I can keep track, and you guys know what's out there and how to search for it <3 Bear in mind that some AUs are more like concepts and might only have a single thought/art underneath their tag, but there might be more added to them in the future. If you're curious about anything, you can always ask! (I'm very easily convinced to drop rambles, as has been proven in the past—)

*

Help Me To Breathe [hmtb]

my main multi-chapter story, set in s8 boatem. deaths abruptly hurt on hermitcraft, and each respawn makes it worse. scar dies a lot by grian's hands, before grian even learns (the hard way) that things hurt now. welcome to a scarian angst hellhole where 3rd life flashbacks hit like bricks and guilt is mercilessly spilled everywhere <3

this fic is the epitome of it gets worse before it gets better. trust me.

cws: violence, ptsd, anxiety attacks, delusions, unhealthy coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, suicide, temporary character death... please check tags on AO3 which i try very hard to keep updated

tags: #hmtb - an all-encompassing tag for fic updates, rambles, and art. (sometimes #hmtb art is also used in tandem, where relevant.)

fic: Help Me To Breathe on AO3

*

Hunted hybrids [hhau]

hermitcraft s8 got code-attacked and all the hermits got scattered into different worlds, lost and stuck in unfamiliar places, not knowing if their home still exists. the au follows scar and grian who ended up in the same world (although originally unaware)—a world dangerous and hostile to hybrids. grian is an avian, scar is a vex, and they're hunted relentlessly. also, it's permadeath <3

this au is self-indulgently used in RP and co-owned by linkito

cws: violence, blood, dehumanisation of hybrids, self harm (feather plucking), mentions of suicidal ideation... [updated cws in the hhau masterpost]

tags: #hhau

this one got out of hand so >> hhau masterpost <<

*

Boatem circus

scar, a sea-lion hybrid, builds a circus as a safe haven for all the hybrids and misfits that have nowhere to belong and need a place to heal. they all carry their own traumas and wounds, and scar gives them what they never had: gentleness and options and freedom to roam or leave. but it's not easy, navigating a growing community of varying triggers and buried pasts.

au put together with stiffyck

cws: ptsd, panic attacks, fear of fire, loss and grief, mentions of captivity/torture/abuse

tags: #boatem circus au

fics: don't be afraid, little bird (there are no cages around you now) —&— elegy

[AO3 series link]

*

Sleep demon Grian

grian is a sleep demon, existing in the dreamscape, able to manipulate dreams and thriving on giving people nightmares. he meets scar in a dream, immediately intrigued and amused by his reactions, and he keeps coming back to him. scar, despite all the nightmares being thrown at him, catches a glimpse of his perpetrator, and grows curious in turn. they start talking, everything eventually culminating into a ritual and a summonning circle. grian, in the waking world, needs to learn how to exist somewhere where he can get actually hurt, and come to terms with the fact that he has locked away memories and trauma.

cws: injuries, fear, panic, nightmares(?), trauma, violence, memory repression

tags: #sleep demon grian au

au rambles: here

fics: the nightmare snippet —&— even if it hurts (and even if it isn't a dream) you can have a home here

*

Cursed forest

found family boatem, where each of them carry their own heavy past and an attached curse. they thought they'd never find a place to settle that'd accept them and let them heal. but they found each other, deep in a hidden away forest, littered by bones and flowers, death and hope. (honestly, just see the au rambles.)

au put together with stiffyck

cws: animal death, necromancy, grief and guilt, body horror

tags: #cursed forest au

rambles: here

fics: even with death haunting your footsteps, your flowers will bloom again

*

Spill my blood AU

grian and scar have known each other before the world fell apart. they were equal parts aquaintances and something much deeper—allowed to be close during the most vulnerable, raw moments, yet never orbiting too close outside of them. 

grian used to be in a bad relationship, and scar at the time just happened to be the roommate of grian’s best friend, mumbo. that is, until a too-close call forced mumbo and scar to finally save grian out of that situation for good, and then, only a couple days later, before things even had time to fully settle, scar—freshly turned into a vampire by a desperate third party, and too terrified of losing control and hurting those he loves—had no choice but to leave, abandoning them in the aftermath. 

now, years later, they run into each other and reunite in the apocalypse, both them and the world forever changed.

au put together with plantie for our rp. 

title based on our working doc title spill my blood at the end of the world

cws: mentions of abuse, unhealthy relationship, violence, dark thoughts, trauma, breakdowns, dissociation, panic attacks, suicidal ideation, blood, general vampire stuff, being turned into a monster, fear of loss of control, rot and decay of a mycelium apocalypse, zombie thematics, hybrid dehumanisation, mentions of trafficking and experimentation, post apocalypse survival, hallucinations, sickness

tags: #spill my blood au

*

Snowbird AU

hybrids don’t have a place in civilised society, seen as too animalistic, the line between human and wildlife too blurry for them to be accepted. they’re rare, hiding away and living off on their own in their little communes, keeping to themselves.  

one winter, grian’s all alone, struggling to survive. as a migratory species, he wasn’t meant to stay. he wasn’t meant to be alone. he doesn’t really know how to build a nest that the snow wouldn’t destroy. isn’t sure how to stay warm, or which direction he’s meant to go. he gets caught in a snowstorm that blows him, tired and cold and wounded, to the edge of scar’s backyard.

scar is a zookeeper. he knows a lot about animals, but next to nothing about hybrids. he never expected to come face-to-face with one… much less one hurt and scared and in distress. as he coaxes the avian to let him help, his mind is spinning wondering if bird wing injuries and avian wing injuries should be treated the same, and what is he going to do? 

scar ends up bringing grian to his house, putting him in his bed, warm and soft and safe. grian’s never been in a place like this, bright and walled and— heated. and he was told his whole life to steer clear of humans, but scar doesn’t seem like he wants to hurt him, and oh, grian’s never felt so cozy. maybe it’d be okay to let scar help? maybe it’d be okay to stay for a little bit? (after all, the outside is so cold—)

they’re both in an unfamiliar situation, but maybe… maybe they’ll both come out of it with far more than they expected.

au put together with lyrai

cws: injuries, sickness, grief, dehumanisation of hybrids, kidnapping, claustrophobia, wing clipping, distress of being grounded, panic attacks, fear of touch

tags: #snowbird au

*

Ari AU

grian (he/she) is ariana griande (ari), a famous singer beloved by the crowds. except things start getting a bit too out of hand. there are stalkers and people who think they have the right to ari's personal life, the right to see and dictate everything. the press gets out of hand. maybe the crowds get too rowdy. maybe—

more scared and overwhelmed by the second, grian gets a bodyguard. that bodyguard is scar. things continue to escalate though, and by the time ari calls a break in her career, everything's irreparably breaking down around her.

(If it wasn't clear yet, this is one very dark, very heavy, very human story. There's love and so, so, so much despair. Things go wrong and then worse.)

au with ben

cws: papparazzi hounding, stalkers, lack of privacy, blurring of self, drugging and [attempted] SA, physical assaults, self harm, overdose, medical trauma, restraints, seizures, ptsd, depression, suicidal stuff (including several attempts)

tags: #ari au

au rambles: [part I] - [part II] - [part III] - [part IV] - [part V] - [TBC]

au art:

downfall in three stages - here lake scene art - here

*

Murder cannibal AU

… or the fucked up one where grian has a silly crush on scar and scar takes him camping. he’s showing grian how to hunt—a concept grian’s uneasy about, but scar’s so close, guiding his hand, so it’s totally worth it—when they get ambushed by a group of campers. they attack without hesitation, and while grian’s stunned and confused and scared, scar lifts his hunting rifle and shoots without as much as a flinch.

three bodies later, scar reveals that they were probably upset about "what scar’s done to their friend". and through the shock, things start clicking in grian’s head. oh. oh. he— he needs to run. he feels the eyes on him, feels the gun that’s surely pointing at his back now. scar’s just killed people and seems wholly unbothered. bile rises in grian’s throat together with terror and his body moves, scrambling to get away.

scar moves after him with ease, and after a bit of a chase, shoots grian’s ankle. he brings him into an isolated cabin deep in the woods, tying him up but also fixing up his injuries. grian’s terrified, and as days progress, scar nonchalantly lets him witness more death as he brings in people—sometimes still alive—to butcher up for food, staining the cabin’s floorboard with blood.

and somewhere along the lines, something in grian caves and gives in to this new messed up reality he’s been thrown into.

au put together with ben

cws: kidnapping, murder, all forms of violence, gore, cannibalism, a really fucked up cast of characters, mutilation, self mutilation, mind breaking, torture, major character death, fucked up concepts of love

tags: #murder cannibal au

*

Assassin AU

grian is an assassin, scar is elven nobility. one day, grian is sent to kill scar, which seems a simple enough job. except when they meet, they find that they actually know each other—they've met when they were kids and quickly became unlikely friends, with scar giving away a magical amulet to grian as a gift. (an amulet he still has.) scar was eventually found (turns out he was a noble runaway/lost kid) and dragged away, and grian never found out who he truly was or what happened to him and why he disappeared.

... until now.

now scar's life is at the tip of grian's blade, and grian finds himself conflicted, unwilling to kill the one person he's ever managed to connect with (even if it was years ago, and they've both changed beyond repair since). but grian knows that if he won't finish this job, someone else will.

so on an insane impulse, grian does the desperate thing and whisks scar away, uprooting both of their lives and exchanging everything they've known for a ragged life on the run.

except turns out, there's a reason why people want scar dead, and they're not going to give up the pursuit.

cws: blood and violence, mind control, being generally oblivious about life, survival scenario, murder, possible animal death

tags: #assassin au

*

Misguided Heroes

scar is secretly hotguy, a hero meant to protect the people. grian is a shopkeeper at barge, but with self-proclaimed king ren wreaking havoc on economy and making life of ordinary citizens so much harder, he decides to secretly play vigilante, cuteguy, and stage a one-man rebellion.

also, scar and grian are roommates.

au with sima

cws: injuries, illusions messing with perception/reality, [to be determined]

tags: #misguided heroes au

*

Grumbo apocalypse AU [monster horror AU]

mumbo wakes up to the world as he knows it gone. no more point to a routine office job, no more awkward neighbourly smalltalks, no more tired grocery shop runs. instead, the sky is bright white, the sun is black, weird glitchy reality rifts open up around, and death lurks in every shadow. amidst it all, the city is overrun by various monsters that shift and change and screech, killing off anything that moves.

when eventually one of them breaks into mumbo’s apartment, he does not move a muscle, completely freezing on the spot. it’s his lack of panicked movements that saves him in the end. 

the creature that’s crouched down in front of him, looking at him curiously, is grian. he’s existed long before the apocalypse, but the nature of this doom has scrambled some instincts and control, pushing his kind into a more aggressive, feral state. they’re shapeshifters, in the most literal sense of the word—their bodies are not a constant, instead a horrory amalgamation of various, ever-shifting things, squelching and skittering. 

oh, and they steal and mimic people’s voices; the captured and reproduced sounds are grian’s only method at human communication at the very start. (it’s mostly death screams. there’s not a lot of chatter when people see them in the apocalypse—)

mumbo somehow finds himself still alive after this encounter, and grian decides to be very protective over his new friend in the hostile world. they struggle to navigate not only the new landscape of the apocalypse, but also each other and themselves. 

au put together with ben

cws: apocalypse, body horror, identity issues, end of the world feelings, monsters, fear, nightmares, communication issues, mentions of death, violence, killer instincts, horror vibes

tags: #grumbo apocalypse monster au

ben’s masterpost: here

*

Ghost Scar AU

grian is a paranormal investigator. scar is a ghost. they meet, they talk, and grian resolves to do his best to make scar feel less lonely.

cws: dead character??? he's a ghost dw he's fine-

tags: #ghost scar au

fics: you exist in silence (i'll help you make a sound)

*

Silly vampire Scar

scar is a vampire living in a mansion too big and too lonely for him. grian and mumbo are survivors in a world riddled with monsters, which they learn to hunt and kill. one night, they seek shelter in what seems to be an abandoned mansion, only to find out there is a sole occupant in it: a strange, chippery vampire who's keen on keeping them there.

cws: general vampire and monster stuff, [to be determined]

tags: #vampire scar au

fics: [one day]

*

Cuteguy AU

scar is hotguy, grian is his sidekick cutecuy. one day, things go wrong and a building explodes with scar still inside. the body is never found. hotguy is presumed dead. that is, until cuteguy comes face to face with a new villain that is oddly familiar—

idea loosely bounced off of stiffy's TOGH au

cws: blood, violence, delusions, brainwashing, grief, loss of identity, presumed major character's death (twice. wild. huh.)

tags: #cuteguy au

*

Hybrid farms AU [respawn version]

with food growing scarce, hybrids have been separated from society, rounded up, and put into farms. they’re kept captive in inhumane conditions, slaughtered over and over again (thanks to respawn mechanics) to feed the general populace. 

grian was born in captivity, but briefly tasted the outside life in his teens, meeting mumbo. he was promised there’s a place he can be safe, but before mumbo could deliver on his promises, grian was recaptured and plunged back into the circle of tight spaces, pain, and death.

eventually, he manages to escape and makes it to hermitcraft, where he clingily attaches himself to mumbo. and then he meets scar… 

au put together with ben

cws: dehumanisation of hybrids, slaughter, captivity, repeated death, cannibalism, trauma 

tags: [none so far; this lives in our DMs]

*

Vex Hunger AU [kidnapping/griangst AU]

grian (avian) and cub (vex) get kidnapped and shoved in a little cell. they’re cherry picked for their hybridity, used without consent by unethical researchers who are eager to prove that vex hybrids should be given mob status rather than a player status. the method is simple: provide avian-suitable food, but nothing for the vex to eat, and wait until he starves enough to go feral, proving vexes are dangerous.

with respawns anchored in their little cell, they don’t have a choice on what happens next. 

they are eventually found and rescued by the hermitcraft crew, but not before the awful unstoppable circle repeats over and over again; they’re found huddled up on opposite ends of the cell, dried blood and viscera splattered in between them. 

the path to healing afterwards is rocky and sometimes it feels insurmountable.

au put together with ben

cws: kidnapping, captivity, hybrid dehumanisation, starvation, assault, panic, cannibalism, gore and death, self hate, loss of control, Trauma™, bad coping mechanisms, self destructive tendencies 

tags: [none so far; this lives in our DMs]

*

Dancing zombies AU [zombie whisperer scar AU]

it’s zombie apocalypse and grian, scar, and mumbo build themselves a little settlement, each of them playing a different pivotal role. mumbo’s in charge of security, defenses, and traps; grian’s in charge of building, scouting, and venturing out for resources; scar’s in charge of building upkeep, landscaping, animal keeping, and meals.

everything seems normal for a while, except… turns out, scar can talk to zombies. 

(and turns out, they listen.)

… this au involves grian’s fear (and distrust) of zombies, silly scams, zombie intel, misunderstandings, flowercrowns, dancing, scar building an amusement park full of zombie cast, and a death moat full of zombies that makes both grian and scar uncomfortable for different reasons

cws: zombie apocalypse, general zombie gore, panic attacks, assaults, survival scenario

tags: [none so far]

*

Papers please AU

what it says on the tin. scar lives with his cat jellie in a cold, small, state-provided apartment and gets assigned a job as an immigration officer at a border checkpoint. he... isn't great at the job, but doesn't have a choice, and needs the money to keep them fed and healthy. grian is the head of resistance, because of course he is <3

cws: dystopian world, cold, hunger, sickness, potential pet death, injuries

tags: #papers please au

*

Spirit AU

grian is an avian living freely in a patch of forest. that is, until he gets caught by people who think hybrids are on-par with working animals, and is shackled and hurt and trained, to serve. there is a looming war, and flight-capable carriers are very valued (but not much cared for). scar is a vex hybrid, coming from a settlement that's kinder to hybrids, who also gets captured. they meet in captivity, and things happen.

cws: hybrid slavery, hybrid dehumanisation, loss of freedom, abuse, warzone stuff

tags: #spirit au

*

DL rp AU

grian and scar in double life, soulbound and with vague memories of previous life games. their soul connection transfers not only all the pain and injuries, but also emotions. and they both feel. a little too much. (they're a mess, but also in love, as they should be)

au for rp with sima

cws: they very sad; self destructive tendencies (sorry there's no self in this one, they are linked and there's always collateral-)

tags: #dl rp

*

Half sea town AU

a town half-submerged into the sea. the upper half is reserved for humans, who are seen as better, richer, the posh and the nobility. the lower half, the submerged part, is slum-like, reserved for seafolk, seen as lesser. many seafolk learn to live on land, to improve their standing (not necessarily living situation; they do need water). mumbo lives amongst the nobility. scar lived his whole life in the sea. grian, even though he belongs to the seafolk, lives on land. mumbo's best friend, forever trying to be something he isn't.

a crackers collective au

cws: er.. class divide?, self worth issues, needs denial in a way?

tags: #half sea town au

*

The underwater AU that somehow fails to have a name the first thing i ever posted on tumblr woo.

an underwater au set somewhere in the wide, deep sea. merfolks. mumbo is a prince, grian, jimmy, and joel are his guards. scar is a deep-sea fish, and tales say those are scary and horrendous and dangerous. (he's just a silly guy, pls)

stiffy/crackers collective au

cws: injuries, idk

tags: #mer au

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

smaller aus/ideas:

last life scar: #post-ll scar's issues with touch

fixing double life scarian: #fixing dl au

puppeteer scar: #puppeteer scar au

cannibal scar/forest (the game) au: #forest au

life games king au: not on tumblr but i should tell u about it one day

...and more

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

some other aus that i have yoinked and might have content for:

#space grian au - another au that belongs to ben. also burrowed my way in to this one. hehe. (ben none of your aus are now safe from me.)

#snifflins au - crackers group au, based on that one time jimmy and scar were piglinmynose, and joel and grian were sniffermyfeet - twisted into snifflers and piglin hybrids (snifflins!) in the aftermath, trying to get used to their new bodies and instincts and needs.

#desert alien scar au - belongs to stiffy

+ a whole bunch of others <3

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

(if i missed any cws for any of the aus, please let me know!)

reinstating that if you're curious about anything, i don't bite! come ask!

[my AO3]

[cloudcountry]

fuck i literally realized a lot of this is due to how much I relate to him IM SORRRYRYRYRYRY but i just wanna talk about him today (i have no fun insights this is just yapping... URGGBSHGRFYGH I RELATE TO AND LOVE HIM SO MUCH SOBS ON UR DOOR STEP)

im sorry, i believe a little warning for the first paragraph i bring up my own dead sibling cause I wanted to get that out of the way

This is decently specific to me: I have a younger dead sibling and idia is just i can relate just so hard to bc of that one fact, (gets out the idia journal) we were around the same age when our siblings died we think we both got them killed through harmless fun comments and just having someone so close to you as your younger sibling die at a young age kinda fucks with you and stuff idrk whats going on but something is

we both have social anxiety i don't think mine is as bad but if i had the option to just talk through a tablet i would, especially in certain situations where i'll freeze up (aka talking to any waiter ever) I genuinely a lot better when im there for someone else that has so we could have a symbiotic relationship for social situations

+ I NEED TO REASSURE HIM HIS DAMN IMAGINARY AUDIENCE ISN'T ACTUALLY REAL NOT EVERYONE HATES YOU YOU DON'T HAVE TO ACT LIKE IT IM RIGHT HERE I LOVE YOU SM :((

Okay funny silly time: love of cats omg cats i love cats he loves cat give him cat he would be unsure how to treat it exactly bc he never had a childhood cat but he has done so much research on cats that he probably could info dump on the cat on why it so cool and the best thing ever "Awww did you know you get a lot of your water from your food bcuz you're a dessert animal and you avoid still standing water due to your prey possibly contaminating the water" please let him see those stray cat cams in china he would love donating food to them,, he would be spear heading naming everyone and making sure they all get a wiki page

OKAY ENOUGH ABOUT IDIA AND CATS BUT HE WOULD SEE IF HE COULD GET THE FUNDS TO OPEN A CAT SHELTER AND FEED SO MANY STRAY KITTIES MOVING ON

baby noooooo,,,, :(( yes im looking back on his after overblot dialogue as a reference even though i just read it anyways,,, Idia will never be able to have his own life separate from his family, since yk cursed and shroud, it's basically a path that was bricked in for him. its like his life path is a long corridor that leads to the same road no matter what he picks. Especially since his unique magic locks him into working for STYX since he can just open a very vital thing and idk almost take over the world. if the shrouds acc got unique magic i think idia could have actually went on to lead a decently good life whether he was STYX head by choice or something else (game dev)

hes so passionate about the things he enjoys, there is so many examples of this, he's into so many things and loves them all with his whole heart it's so endearing (also uhsn dfbghrg bonding over media is the best, hes probably so fun to talk to about media... but he might lord knowing so much over you >:p ily just let me put my two cents in you can keep info dumping idia) OUGH (ignore me doing the hand thing PLEASE I LOVE IDIA I LOVE ORTHO IM ENJOYING WRITING THIS SM) OKAY ANYWAYS aww okay reading over idia's dialogue like im writing you an argumentative essay or something,, STAR ROGUE! the idia of idia (wtf r u writing edie) HIS SILLY ASS SLANG HRGBHRBGVLRHG "OUR LEGEND, POP OOOFF!" Anyways idia just recounting everything about star rogue without second thought he loves it sm he probably played it sm he knows the opening by heart (IDIA AND ORTHO SAYING THE TAG LINE TOGETHER THIS IS KILLING ME AUBURN)

hes heard so often that he was genius when he was really young it was just hardwired for him to think he was the best in the room especially with the advancements he has made from the ages of 10-12. like building ortho is genuinely a feat and he did it and two years definitely he's going to let that go to his head. ngl i feel that his parents were not too great probably absent most of the time since he can just lock himself in his room and work on something that no one knows about for two years. probably fucked him up developmentally too, he was NOT properly socialized the internet was his parents for the entire time probably

he wants to be FUCK THIS SHIT ACC OMG CRIES IN A CORNER SADDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD HE JUST WANTED TO BE A COOL ADVENTURER HERO GUY HE DIDN'T KNOW THAT WOULD HAPPEN!!!!! WHAT WENT WRONG IS NOTHING YOU WERE JUST A TOO SMART KID,,, IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT AND NEVER WILL BE YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT WOULD HAPPEN OMG. DFGVJKDHJHBCBSHFBSFBSFR

it's like 12:30 right now my mental state is deteriorating this is stupid opinions for the most part i tried my best im sorry if this is bad but YOU SAID GUSH IN YOUR INBOX SO I MADE THAT HAPPEN???

-- with lots of love Edie

EDIEEE MY FAVORITE IDIA KISSER‼ THANK U FOR SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS READING THEM WAS SO INTERESTING!!

first of all holy shit im so sorry about what happened to your sibling. i totally get why you'd find him comforting because of that but Oh my gosh. im so sorry.

i think having social anxiety is something a lot of people can relate to with him, even myself. identity actually brought this up but seeing him being pushed into situations where he is ABSOLUTELY not comfortable makes me want to run in there and help him GET OUT. like i may not like this man that much but nobody should feel pressured or panic over entering a social situation they dont want to be a part of.

AH YES THE CAT CARD

RIGHT YEAH its so SAD how he will never get to live his own life and THATS one of the things that ive thought about a lot concerning him. like it would suck to actually have your fate predetermined no matter what. like he's just going to be stuck there with nobody else except for like ortho and his employees(?) but actually. yk what thats how he spent his school days which is even sadder hello

"the idia of idia" HELLO WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

actually! you bring up a good point about idia always being considered a genius since he was young and how that affects his self esteem and how he interacts with people now. i have literally never thought of it that way but it makes a lot of sense.

THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS EDIE <3 I LOVED HEARING THEM!!

[illarian-rambling]

For the ask box suggestion tag, could we see Mashal and Ivander interacting? What is their friendship like, what kind of things do they talk about?

Oh, this is an interesting one! I think I'll use this as an excuse to write a scene that I thought about, but that never made it into the final cut. Basically, what defines Mashal and Ivander’s friendship is that Ivander is way nicer to Mashal than to anyone else because, like, come on. It's Mashal. For Mashal's part, he sees the best in Ivander to an almost overly optimistic degree, and refuses to take the detective's bullshit about being a bad person.

With all that in mind, I hope you enjoy!

Libraries didn't generally intimidate Mashal. He might not be a genius mage or an avid reader, however, he was secure in his own areas of intelligence. Books might not hold his heart as closely as art did, but he didn't dislike them.

That said, the Yewbury Archive was something else entirely.

A titanic column of stone stretched tall enough to scrape the clouds, its base the size of a city block. No windows marred that smooth granite. In fact, no seams could be seen whatsoever between the stone bricks, as if the building had been crafted from a mold. The only nod to humanity were a few scraggly yew bushes scattered around the base - a horticulture choice Mashal was certain was intended as a pun on the city's name. The whole construction gave the impression of a vast panopticon surveying the city for any signs of ignorance.

Perhaps he would've felt better about it if Astra was there to crack a few jokes about the building's noticeably shaft-like shape, however, the witch was off visiting her parents. It would only be a few days until he saw her again, yet Mashal already missed seeing the rainbow flash of her ribbon coat in the corner of his eye. He'd probably be terribly lonely if it wasn't for the fact that another friend had come to take her place.

Ivander stared up at the library with the distaste of a princess being offered a selection of last year's dresses. He sniffed delicately, then gave his verdict.

"Ugh, brutalism."

Rolling his eyes, the detective began to limp towards the door, Mashal following carefully behind. When they reached the stairs, he let Ivander take his arm without saying a word, though it did make him glad that his friend now saw his assistance as a given.

"So, how are things in Unity?" Mashal asked as they made their way in and began navigating the stacks. "Is your private agency doing well?"

"Well enough that I can afford a vacation out here," Ivander replied. Somehow, the detective managed to slip a cold side eye towards every frazzled mage they passed. "I... Ceyrel was talking about quitting the BAI and coming to work as my partner, actually."

Mashal gasped. "Ivander, that's wonderful! I know you two are close, and she's a skilled officer."

"She's an idiot," Ivander grumbled. "Just because I got fired doesn't mean she has to lose her insurance and pension just to follow me."

"But would you be happy to work with her again?" Mashal prompted gently.

At once, Ivander’s blue cheeks flushed a dark indigo. Working off of emotion rather than logic always seemed to intimidate him, but Mashal tried his best to gently push his friend into thinking more along those lines.

"I would be quite happy," he admitted softly.

It wasn't long before they found the row of books they were looking for. Though his metal chest held no heart or lungs, Mashal let out a simulated exhale nonetheless. He'd tried to poke around here before with little success. Hopefully though, with a detective on his side - even a detective on vacation - he might have more luck.

"Geneologies," Ivander muttered. "Not a bad place to start. And you're sure your surname is all you remember of your family?"

Mashal closed his eyes as he tried to pierce the foggy veil of his amnesia-ridden mind, but it was no use. The transfer from flesh to metal had left his memory full of cracks, and unfortunately, most all knowledge of his family had fallen through one of them.

"I think I have... a brother?" he said. "An older brother. And I feel like both my parents are still alive. Or, were th- the last time I saw them, I suppose."

Very gingerly, Ivander placed a hand on Mashal's arm. "If I can find any leads, I'll do all I can to track them down. However, I must know, do you intend to return to them right away?"

Mashal sighed, rubbing at his glass lens eyes. "I don't know. They wouldn't even recognize me like this, would they? They probably think I'm dead. Astra says she's optimistic in her chances of getting my flesh and blood body back, so I think I'll wait until then. I just kind of want to have an idea of where they are. And their names too, maybe. Anything you can find."

In the yellow light of the arcane spheres that floated through the library, Ivander’s face looked almost green as he smiled sadly up at Mashal.

"I.... Oh damn, I hate how easy to talk to you are." The detective sighed heavily. "I know what it's like to not know a family member's whereabouts. I was never able to track down my mother, but I'll do my best to help you. Free of charge, even."

That got a soft laugh from Mashal. "Thank the gods for that - I don't think I'd be able to afford you otherwise."

"I'm well aware. But enough chatter, let's get to it!" Ivander made a beeline towards the nearest cushioned reading nook, shaking a few of his afternoon meds from a pouch as he did. "You just bring me the geneologies, I'll read."

Mashal shook his head in amazement. He'd never known anyone but Ivander to be so excited by a day of pouring over dusty old records. Nevertheless, he trotted off into the stacks as instructed. Perhaps, on one of those dusty shelves, laid the key to his long-erased past.

•••

By his internal clock, Mashal knew he and Ivander had been reading for about four hours now. However, given the mindnumbing material, it felt more like double that. Lists upon lists of census data swirled in front of Mashal's ocular runes like dreary constellations.

They'd narrowed it down to a few books now, putting Mashal's family somewhere in the outskirts of the Sulu'Okan city of Bouerco by process of elimination alone. Somehow, Ivander had managed to speed through nearly twice as many tomes as Mashal had. And that was with frequent breaks to reapply eyedrops and stretch his legs.

However, the detective wasn't immune to frustration, as he huffed tiredly upon flipping another page.

"You were raised by a woman and a man, yes? Not two men?" he asked, eyes listless as he shifted position sorely.

Mashal nodded. "I think so? I- I'm pretty sure I remember this big portrait with me as a boy standing by another boy, and a man and a woman in the background."

"So, not these Darezshos then." Ivander turned another page with a sigh, only to pause. "A portrait, you say? That's expensive."

"I suppose so?" Mashal cocked his head. "I mean, I was a knight, and Astra says most knights come from means."

Ivander nodded thoughtfully. "First thing that witch has been right about in her life. I found some names here, said to reside on a spacious ranch outside of Bouerco. Now, this data was taken after you would've been reported dead, mind. However, the names listed are Master and Mistress Makai and Idana Darezsho, along with their twenty eight year old son, Aden Darezsho. The census lists them as lower nobility in the business of breeding horses."

"That...." Mashal blinked, as although he had no sense of smell, his mind was suddenly flooded with the sunny funk of a well cleaned stable.

"I think that's right," Mashal gasped. "I think that's them."

It was like a thousand impressions hit him all at once. The slant of Aden's severe frown, though his eyes still remained in mental shadow. The taste of sweets in his mouth and the leather grip of a practice sword in his hands. The voices of his parents, though the words were a blur, became known to him.

A true smile broke over Ivander’s face, no hint of the usual sarcasm in the corners whatsoever. "My friend, that's wonderful. I'm happy for you. I really am."

"Gods beyond, I wish I could hug you," Mashal said, still breathless with excitement. He knew their names! He knew his family's names!

"Well, thank you from refraining, as I think I would pass away." Ivander shot a pointed glance at the hissing hydraulic presses that served as Mashal's joints. "A simple 'well done' will suffice."

"Well done, Detective Montane!" Mashal exclaimed. "And thank you."

For some reason, this caused a blush to spread across Ivander’s face. "Certainly. I owe you one, I suppose."

"Me, doing a good deed?" Ivander snorted. "My poor reputation will never recover."

Mashal shook his head. "You never owed me anything, Ivander. You did this out of the goodness- Hey, look at me! Out of the goodness of your heart, you hear? You did a selfless thing today for me that I will ever be grateful for."

"Maybe you have a different sort of reputation than you think."

"Maybe you're going to make me gag from all these compliments."

Mashal smiled. "How about we go wash the sincerity taste out with some drinks?

"Oh thank the gods for that." Ivander stood and took Mashal's arm as he followed. "You're paying?"

"I- I mean, I can."

"Wonderful. I can feel suitably evil again."

Arm in arm, the pair walked out of the Archive and into the dusk light. Even though it was made of steel, Mashal's heart felt pounds lighter for knowing his family was out there somewhere, and also for knowing that he had such a great friend here with him now.

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

The Prince and Princess of Monaco with the President of Ireland Eamon de Valera and his wife Sinead in 1961. The couples visit marked Ireland's first ever state visit since the creation of the new state.

How Grace Kelly became an unlikely icon of Irish-American assimilation

The ascension of a Catholic Irish-American to princess paved the way for the Irish to be accepted as American ‘royalty’

1 Apr 2023, The Irish Times

A statue of Grace Kelly, the Hollywood actor who became a princess, was unveiled in Mayo recently near Drimurla, where her grandfather’s cottage still stands. This came a month after Trinity College Dublin added a bust of Abbey Theatre co-founder Lady Gregory to its Old Library. Although public women of Irish connection are finally being included in official memory and memorial, Grace Kelly’s significance to Ireland and Irish America generally remains neglected.

Kelly, awarded an Oscar for The Country Girl (1954), appeared in 11 films between 1951 and 1956. She received the title of Princess Grace of Monaco upon her marriage to Prince Rainier III of Monaco in April 1956. Grace was a cultivated woman whose deep and often publicly shared interest in Ireland and its culture led her widower to endow the Princess Grace Irish Library of Monaco in her honour. In her public life, she ably represented both her heritage and her adopted principality: Grace formally lunched with the Kennedys in May 1961, a month before making an impactful state visit to Ireland during which she called at the ancestral Kelly cottage in Drimurla.

Princess Grace of Monaco and US president John F Kennedy at the White House, 1961.

John Henry Kelly, born in Drimurla in the Famine year of 1847, left for Pennsylvania 20 years later. Grace was the granddaughter of John Henry and the daughter of the handsome and athletic John B Kelly, who earned his fortune during America’s 1920s building boom. Grace was raised in a large home in a residential Philadelphia neighbourhood on the Schuylkill river banks. This waterway divided the Irish “new money” from the “society” Anglo-Protestant elite on the western bank along the so-called Main Line. The Kelly home was a fine one, as I saw with my own eyes when I delivered a talk there in December. However, to “old money” Wasp Philadelphia, the fact that it had been newly built in the late 1920s with bricks from the family’s own firm was unpalatable. Altogether, in the highly socially and racially stratified city in which Grace was born, wealth and success were not enough for those of recent immigrant background to be fully accepted into its uppermost echelon.

In order to dilute the usual associations of an Irish Catholic background, movie studios created a slightly icy but elegant persona for Kelly when she was on the rise in the early 1950s. Nevertheless, the assumption that a Philadelphia Irish Catholic girl could not quite make the cut coloured coverage: in 1955, Time magazine suggested that although publicists tagged “Miss Kelly as ‘a Main Line debutante,’” she was “neither Main Line nor a debutante, but she is the next thing to both.”

Such subtly snooty comments melted away when Kelly’s engagement to Rainier was announced in January 1956.

Their wedding in Monaco cathedral three months later was one of the largest international media events of the 1950s. It was broadcast live on television by MGM, watched by 30 million people. It is not remarked upon today, but this unambiguously Catholic spectacular came only three years after the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II, also a momentous televisual event. For some of those of Irish nationalist persuasion in Ireland and the US, Kelly’s globally visible transformation to royalty was an Irish Catholic riposte to the crowning of the new British monarch at Westminster Abbey in 1953.

Grace Kelly, now the Princess of Monaco on her wedding day 1953.

The ascension of a Catholic Irish-American to the status of princess paved the way for the Irish to ascend to “American royalty”, so to speak: the first Catholic Irish president was elected only four years later. The Kennedy era tends to be the beginning point in assessments of the final full assimilation of the Irish in America, but it was Kelly who initiated the transformation.

The princess’s gorgeous white bridal gown also inspired women in her ancestral country. Caitriona Clear has noted that into the early 1950s, the wedding outfit of most Irish women was a formal day dress or suit and that the white dress and veil was worn mostly by brides from elite backgrounds. It seems that the widely disseminated image of the white bridal gown of a woman of modest Irish roots made such attire approachable for ordinary women in Ireland: by 1957 the colour of wedding dresses was so taken for granted that it went unmentioned in Irish newspaper accounts. Kelly’s donation of the gown to the renowned Philadelphia Museum of Art for its permanent collection soon after her wedding suggests the sudden confidence of the Catholic Irish in a city that had long socially excluded them.

In her role as princess, Kelly wielded immense soft power as the internationally known representative of a tiny principality long overshadowed by its powerful neighbour, France. Biographer Donald Spoto suggests that the global spotlight brought by Kelly transformed Monaco: it disarmed French attempts to assert control over the principality, revitalised its economy and, through the princess’s efforts, made it a hub for cultural events. Even Kelly’s final film, after a long hiatus, Rearranged (1982), a comedy short in which she plays herself, was a disguised promotion for her beloved Monaco Flower Show. Poignantly, Rearranged remains unreleased as it was unfinished at the time of the princess’s death in a car accident in 1982.

Princess Grace of Monaco with a priest and entourage climbing a hill to the Shrine of Our Lady at Croagh Patrick, Co Mayo, in 1961.

Kelly had purchased the ancestral Drimurla cottage and the surrounding small-holding in 1976, suggesting a deep reservoir of family feeling. If the princess always remembered Drimurla, then Drimurla returned the favour: residents sent a wreath of wildflowers picked in the fields around the ancestral Kelly home to Monaco for her funeral.

Mary M Burke is the author of Race, Politics and Irish America: A Gothic History (Oxford University Press), available in Hodges Figgis and online.

[questforgalas]

Nina's Special, Secret, Vacation City (An Uncle!Batch AU)

Summary: Tech gets to have play time with his niece

Notes: Tech girlies, come get your fluff serving :) Nina is named after CT-99

Ner ka'ra = my star

WC: 1k

Tags: Uncle!Tech, nothin but fluff. Tech interacting with a toddler should be a tag of its own, AU - order 66 didn’t happen

Tay's Masterlist

On AO3

Building blocks covered the table, scattered from corner to corner, not an inch of grey to be seen. Tech’s lower back was tensing from being bent for so long, but Nina’s small play table didn’t offer him many options for comfortable positions. It was no matter. The task at hand was more important than some minor discomfort. The block metropolis in front of him was steadily growing, and he was doing his best to keep up with the steady stream of orders coming from his current commander.

“Red block please.”

“Green please.”

“Ok, 3 spokes please.”

“No Unka Tech, blue one not red one!”

“My mistake, ner ka’ra. Here is the blue block. That should be sufficient for the luxury pool.” Big green eyes looked expectantly at him with a steady hand outstretched waiting for him to hand her the block. Once the brick hit her palm, the youngling returned to carefully constructing the imaginary pool on the far side of the complex.

As Tech watched his niece, he made a note to craft a new bandana for her next time he had a moment. There were many traits the toddler in front of him shared with her father, but the most telling was her mane of curly brown hair that became more unruly every day and she was currently trying, but failing, to keep out of her eyes while she constructed her vision. Those bright green eyes though, those were uniquely hers. They were also a tool used on her uncles frequently because even at the early age of 3, she had them figured out.

Tech had made his way to Hunter’s family’s apartment two hours ago after being asked by Hunter’s partner to stop by to look over the recent diagnostics from their family ship since they were apparently giving some odd readings. After giving the diagnostics a once over and promising to see to the ship personally tomorrow, he’d remained in the apartment, idly chatting with Hunter’s partner. While they were talking, Hunter returned with Nina from whatever errand they’d been running, and the quiet apartment was quickly disrupted.

“Unka Tech! Unka Tech!” Nina screeched as she ran into Tech’s arms as soon as she saw him at the kitchen counter. “Unka Tech we went to the market and ran away from the monster but we escaped and Dada got me a big fruit and I ate it.”

“Wow ner ka’ra. That is a fascinating tale. I theorize that it was, in fact, a Meiloorun fruit?” Tech inquired. Nina gasped, her eyes going wide.

“How did you know?”

“The pink stains around your lips are a good indicator,” Tech explained. He playfully poked her nose as he spoke, causing the youngling to fall into a fit of giggles.

“I’d like to circle back to the ‘ran away from the monster’ part, please,” Hunter’s partner gave him a pointed look, clearly concerned at this not-so-minor tidbit not being addressed. A chuckle rumbled from Hunter’s chest.

“Nothing to worry about cyar’ika. A loth cat jumped out from an alley and surprised her. She then decided it was a monster,” he explained.

“Unka Tech, come play with me. I have new blocks to build with!” The full power of Nina’s eyes met Tech’s, and he knew he was powerless to refuse. That was an hour ago, and the two of them had made impressive progress building Nina’s “secret, special, vacation city” for her family. The complex included a pool, houses for everyone, a play set that took up half the space, and a shooting range so “Unka Crossy can do the blasty thing”.

Tech diligently built as he was instructed, and he’d give suggestions on building placement to maximize space and allow the complex to run at top efficiency, each received enthusiastically by the youngling. She was young, but she had started to show interest in activities like tinkering and building which Tech jumped on as soon as Hunter mentioned it to him. Admittedly, Nina’s designs weren’t always what he expected, nor were they engineering marvels, but he’d subtly make his adjustments, making sure to not lose the integrity of her build. Her proud smile after she completed a project never failed to squeeze his heart.

“Finished!” Nina yelled once the pool was complete.

“Excellent job, ad’ika. This city is a beacon in the galaxy,” Tech complimented.

“What’s a be- beac-beacon?” The young girl’s determined look had been replaced with confusion as she sounded out the word.

“A beacon is a light used as a signal. They are used to convey messages or feelings. This city, for example, might be called a ‘beacon of hope’ as it demonstrates a life full of happiness and health.” Nina listened to Tech’s explanation, face full of wonder as she took in the information, but something caught in her thoughts because Tech watched as her eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched in concentration. Patiently, he waited, remaining seated while the youngling worked out what was swirling in her head. At last, she spoke.

“Are you happy, Unka Tech?” Nina looked up at him from her position on the floor as she asked. The sudden change of subject caught Tech off guard for just a moment, but as Nina continued gazing up at him, he felt a small smile appear on his lips.

“Of course, ner ka’ra. I’m always happy when I’m with you,” He reached out to tip up her chin so her eyes met his, and he answered honestly. His reward was a toothy smile, and then he was jolted back as tiny arms were thrown around his neck and a small body crashed into him. Once the shock war off, Tech wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close to him as he could.  

“I’m happy too, Unka Tech. Thank you for playing with me. I love you!” she said, nuzzled into his neck. Tech was still unsure if he’d ever want children of his own in the future, but moments like this with his little star certainly made the desire hard to deny.

“I love you too, ad’ika. Now, shall we show your parents your handiwork?”

[bee-barnes-author]

Seven Snippets, Seven People

Tagged by @tabswrites!

Tagging: @vivrune @violeaes @amandacanwrite @following-the-drum @pheita @milkhoney531 @jezifster

ONE (An Anomaly of Faith)

My hands were shaking as I brought my joint to my lips once more. Some primal part of me must have recognized what I had stumbled across and was trying to warn my stupid, modernized brain about the dangers ahead. I didn’t listen. Maybe I was too stoned to realize what my body was trying to tell me, or maybe I heard every blaring alarm and recklessly tossed them aside. I don’t think that matters so much, considering I followed the path of liquid gold that stained the too-tall grass in a horrifying mimicry of the Yellow Brick Road.

TWO (An Anomaly of Faith)

I didn’t believe in monsters sober, but I guess when I was stoned I did. It was that same primal feeling deep in my gut. Keep the cherry lit, that feeling whispered to me. Not in words, but in feelings. Sensations. The way kids would slam off the basement light switch and bolt up the stairs, knowing deep in their gut that darkness meant danger, and that it was nipping at their heels. An instinct that modern day buildings with modern day electricity had tricked us into thinking was a childish behavior and not a lifesaving understanding that had been cultivated over millennia for the propagation of our species.

THREE (An Anomaly of Faith)

I did my best not to focus on the fact that there was no burgundy mess staining the wood, no red on the grass, not even a drop of scarlet poured from the attempted gutting. No, what came out of that sucking wound was nothing but the most vibrant gold I had ever seen. The same as the smear that had led me here. The only red was the cherry burning at the edge of my joint, which had fallen from my fingers and onto the dewy grass, lit end facing towards the sky like a stick of smoldering incense.

FOUR (Dying on the First Date)

His lips make a wet squelching noise when he breaks the seal his mouth made against my neck. He’s breathless, and I feel him panting on my cheek. I want to gag at the stinking copper moisture of his mouth.

FIVE (Dying on the First Date)

We sway out of sync with the music. Just the two of us lovers caught up in our own little world. He spins me and a laugh like crystal echoes in my head. He’s killing me. My handsome date works his jaw to bite deeper into my flesh. My left arm twitches violently and I knock over a wine glass. It crashes to the floor. Shatters into a puddle of shards and red wine. My date tangles his fingers in my hair possessively, and my skin crawls with disgust.

SIX (Warden of the Damned)

There was another part of her, though. The part that was more of a savage animal than a human. That part sent her into a frenzy. The moment one of those awful prickly, hairy legs came within reach, Elida lashed out. She had never even thrown a punch before, but she felt the centuries of warrior kings in her blood. She was feral as she clawed and kicked. The daemon surrounding her screeched, and one leg pierced her thigh to pin her in place. Elida wailed in pain. Her mind quickly felt stuffed full of cotton. When she looked down at her wound, she saw the spider leg was worming its way inside her and breaking down into smaller tendrils to spread further.

SEVEN (Warden of the Damned)

Before the organs could go cold in her palm, she shoved as much into her mouth as she could fit. She barely had to chew the soft meat. She could just swallow the chunks whole and they would slide down her throat like butter. At first she thought the gurgling noise was her stomach protesting the quantity she was imbibing. It turned out to be the daemon below her dying, “Filthy…” It wheezed, “Rotting, human…” Elida paid it no mind. She bent over and placed her mouth around the wound she had made and sucked. The cravings had not left her and she was loath to abandon her source. She groaned happily at the stream of blood that flooded her maw. The daemon under her thrashed a final time and rattled out its last breath

[laiqualaurelote]

Rules: Post 10 of your favourite movies and tag 10 people! Thanks @glamorouspixels for the tag. I’ve actually been thinking about this of late because I’ve listening to Brett Goldstein’s podcast Films To Be Buried With. These are in the order I watched them:

1. Lord of the Rings

My favourite films of all time, based on my favourite book of all time. Also I consider them to be one very long 11.5h movie (yes, I refer to the extended editions).

2. Chicago

One of the first movie musical adaptations I ever saw, which left an indelible impression on me. To this day I could probably describe the Cell Block Tango scene shot by shot. Catherine Zeta-Jones! 

3. Once Upon A Time In Mexico

This bonkers finale to Robert Rodriguez’s El Mariachi trilogy has everything. It has Antonio Banderas as a brooding guitar-playing hitman. It has peak Johnny Depp in the era when it was not weird to have a Johnny Depp phase. It has Salma Hayek looking absolutely smoking. It has Enrique Iglesias, whose guitar has a flamethrower. It has Danny Trejo! Willem Dafoe! Eva Mendes! Mickey Rourke! all playing these absolutely unhinged roles. I adore it. 

4. Sin City

So there are two Rodriguez films on this list, but I don’t think I could do without either. Sin City is perhaps one of the best graphic novel screen adaptations of all time. I was obsessed with this film from quite possibly too young an age, especially with Rosario Dawson as a dominatrix with a machine gun. It’s utter pulp and I’m not sorry.

5. Brick

I maintain this high-school neo-noir with baby Joseph Gordon-Levitt is still Rian Johnson’s best film, and this is despite the fact it was so low-budget they had to fake a transition by pulling a garbage bag over the camera and then playing it in reverse. It also contains a scene with a chicken jug that will live in my heart forever.

6. Singing’ in the Rain

Do they make them like this any more? They do not. I can’t begin to pick what I love most about this - the hysterically funny script, the OT3 vibes, the fact that nearly every musical number is a colossal achievement of its own (Donald O’Connor running up the walls in Make ‘Em Laugh! The tap-dancing in Moses Supposes! Cyd Charisse in that green dress in Broadway Melody!) or even just the comic genius of Jean Hagen, which could sustain an entire film on its own.

7. Inception

This film managed somehow to be both a cinematic masterpiece and fandom catnip, which is rare. As an architecture/urbanism geek who also loves heists and devastatingly competent men in suits, I feel like this film was made for me. Also, Arthur/Eames! One of my all-time ships. 

8. 28 Days Later

Best second-generation zombie film, for my money - both stunningly shot and horrifying. The way the final mansion massacre is filmed while John Murphy’s soundtrack builds on that eerie four-note crescendo - chills. Also, young Cillian Murphy and Naomie Harris! really the most beautiful zombie film ever. 

9. The Maltese Falcon

I dithered over whether to put this or The Big Sleep in the bracket of “classic book-to-film noir adaptation starring Humphrey Bogart” - I love them both equally - but went with this because it is, marginally, the better film (and the better book - Raymond Chandler could write the hell out of a novel but he could not tie up his plots). It also has the fantastic villain duo of Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet, as well as a young Elisha Cook Jr as the gunsel who gets played for a sap. That ending! “If they hang you, I’ll always remember you.” 

10. In the Mood for Love

This is, hands-down, the greatest film on this list. Definitely one of the greatest films ever made. Every single shot is a work of art. That iconic scene of Maggie Cheung buying noodles in a dark high-collared cheongsam, walking down a smoky alleyway swinging her tingkat to the strains of the plaintive violin of Shigeru Umebayashi’s theme, brushing past Tony Leung in his steam-rumpled suit - it gives me shivers. I’ll never be over the ending of this film. I’ll also never be normal about buying noodles.

So I’m not going to tag 10 people because I’m too tired but like talk about your favourite movies if you want to! 

[white-weasel]

People You Want to Know Better (Tag Game)

Tagged by @parallelunivrses thank you so much! I always love doing stuff like this :)

Last Song: The Last of the Real Ones by Fall Out Boy

Currently Watching: Watching on my own we have Monster (about 12 eps in) and The Bear (season 2). I also wanna start watching The Batman (2004) here soon and will at some point start Degrassi: Junior High too

As for watching with other people, my roommates and I are watching both Only Murders in the Building (season 2) and Glee (season... 5? I think? We are dragging through this last half tbh and at this point just want it to be over but also refuse to quit before we’ve seen it all. Sunk cost fallacy and all that) We also keep up with most shows on Drop Out!

Currently Reading: For comics I’m reading Red Robin (rereading it lol) and Dial H for Hero (local comic shop had almost the whole 2019 run for 50 cents each and I figured I would give it a shot). Due to CPA studying I haven’t been reading many traditional books, but I’m hoping to start The Locked Tomb series once I’m done with my exams :) I’ve heard a lot of great things about it

Latest Obsession: It’s firmly back on Tim Drake and to a lesser extent the entire batfam. Mid to late 2020 I fell off a bit and was actually quite normal about him for a year or so... and then it hit me like a ton of bricks again and has not let up since lol

Also, I’ve had another Film Reroll flare up where I think about the podcast a bit too much lol I think the only thing that keeps me from having a true, solid obsession with the Film Reroll is the fact that, unfortunately, outside of the podcast itself there’s not a bunch of outside content to engage with. Trust me, if this thing had a bigger fandom, half of my posts would probably be about it ahaha

Tagging: @catrillion @gucciguccigarbage @shownusfool @myopinionisimportant @theoreticalli @twacn @afoxnamedmulder @sodapopmermaid @thesunlikehoney and anyone else I didn’t tag but who wants to share!! 

[ahordeofwasps]

Find the Word Tag

I’ve been tagged by the amazing @aohendo! Thanks for the tag! My words are  blow, bluster, bluff, bellow, and below. I’ll be sharing excerpts from Refurbishing the Fleshy Horrors that have Entered Our Reality for Profit (RTFHTHEORFP) and Crying Wolf!

But first, the no pressure tags! I’ll be tagging @awordchemist, @isherwoodj, @leighvalentin, @amewinterswriting, and open tag! Your words are creep, crawl, cradle, and careen! 

I also don’t have bluster in any of my WIPs, so I’ll be sharing a fun fact instead!

The character Ogwut from Crying Wolf has only ever lost his temper once... in his entire life.

Now, onto RTFHTHEORFP and Crying Wolf!

RTFHTHEORFP

Blow

The stranger doesn’t show up at the site. He shows up at the bar. Dale and I are blowing off steam there, drinking and pretending to watch the game on the television. I normally wouldn’t drink this much, but what else can you do when the ground underneath your feet wasn’t even safe from the affliction affecting the universe?

Below

I was digging. We all were. Just like we had been for every day this past week. Digging through dirt and meat and bone. My shovel kept making the infernal wet crunching sound. Then it made a familiar dull clatter; I had heard that sound thousands of times before. It is the shattering of bricks. When I leaned forward and peered down, beneath the meat and bone, still soaked in blood, I could see bricks. Just normal red bricks. The kind you would see making up any old building.

 They’re normal except that they’re almost 100 ft below ground. I couldn’t make out much, except for a series of 1s and 0s carved into each brick. The bricks all appear to be identical.

Crying Wolf

Bluff

“Blades break against my skin and bullets bounce off without leaving a mark. You cannot kill me,” Ogwut said, taking a step closer to the man. His voice was calm, yet Daisy could detect the same edge it had when he told her and Claudine not to harm each other. “I’d advise you to answer my questions.”

The cork she had been prying suddenly gave and she found herself throwing it in the air. It landed on the ground beside her, revealing a dark liquid that wasn’t water within the pot. The guards were too focused on Ogwut to pay Daisy much mind.

 “Bah!” the clean-shaven man spat, “You’re bluffing, dæmon!” He took a step forward and jabbed his spear at Ogwut.

Bellow

As soon as Ogwut stepped onto the bare stone where the grass and lichen stopped growing, a voice bellowed from the building. “Jack? You came back! I’m so glad! And you brought a friend!” Ogwut couldn’t tell if the voice was masculine or feminine or neither, if it was old or young. All he could tell was that the owner of the voice wasn’t human. He didn’t like what that implied about his own existence.

[gothducky]

Hi!! Personal update under the cut bc I feel like I already put yall through enough of my personal worries without warning LOL

Thanks to everyone who helped me last week, we were able to pay off the card debt after a LOT of texting the company, calling, visiting the stores etc :-)) it'll take a few days to take, and after that my mom's gonna cancel her card, thank you SO much for the help once again!! (The cashier girl told us to sue for this lol but I can't deal with that stress and I just want this to be over with ngl... she's a queen for that still tho)

Been crying a lot this week because it always feels like when I finally get some money on my own it has to go towards some family emergency, but the help I received managed to keep me afloat and I'll always be thankful

As of right now, the only emergency concern I have is my bathroom, we managed to get in contact with a plumber friend of ours who'd do a discounted job for us so now so I think the money I Have right noww will do... and it's just a waiting game for when he'll come over and start the job...

For context too, it's a bit hard to do repair of this type because we have to break the walls. Our house is made of bricks and cement so we're at a bit of a loss on where exactly to break open the wall because we don't know where the pipes will be :') so he'll have to survey the house a lot and make sure where everything is

We have a sort of general idea of where the pipes are because obviously tehre's like humidity and mold in the walls of the sorrounding rooms from the leaking, so for once the damage helps LOL orz

I'll try to post more art to make up for my ebegging and stuff, and as a way to thank yall for the support I've received

And if you've read this far, thank you and I love you

Don't hesitate to send suggestions on characters you'd like to see me draw, or even suggestions for butch friday!! I want to build more interactions between me and my followers whom I love so much, I always read every tag and comment you all leave on my art and I've never felt this much community online after having an incredibly awful +10 years online before this, both bc of abusive relationships, grooming and isolation. So the fact that I managed to get people interested in me and my art is mindblowing to me every single day. I don't feel so alone nowadays

I love you all, and have a good day! I'll try to!

[pnf-lover98]

Ho postato 80 volte nel 2022

Sono 46 post in più del 2021!

78 post creati (98%)

2 post rebloggati (3%)

Blog che ho rebloggato di più:

@hbalto

Ho taggato 79 dei miei post nel 2022

Solo 1% dei miei post non aveva tag

#sing movie - 62 post

#sing 2 - 59 post

#sing oc - 39 post

#my art - 39 post

#original character - 39 post

#buster moon - 33 post

#bia springs - 29 post

#bia and buster - 29 post

#my writing - 18 post

#asks - 12 post

Tag più lungo: 19 caratteri

#the stanley parable

I miei post migliori nel 2022:

#5

When her sobs eventually died out, Rosita wiped her eyes and placed her hands down on the metal surface of the platform. Suddenly, maybe due to tiredness, or to her sense of guilt - or perhaps due to that trauma she hadn't yet learned how to handle - she thought she saw a hand moving closer and coming to rest on hers. Rosita gasped as she recognized the familiar gray fur, and quickly raised her head. Buster was there, sitting down on his knees next to her on the platform, smiling at her. He wasn’t speaking, but he was trying to reassure her with a soft, caring look in his eyes.

(An extract from my fic “Stars still shine”)

While I was still working on the second chapter of my fic, I felt inspired to draw one of the scenes I wrote. Sadly, it took me way too long to finish this minicomic to publish it along with my fict. So here it is, with a post on its own. 

For this scene, I had two main musical inspirations, one of which is “Drops of Jupiter” (Taylor Swift’s version, because she talks about a man instead of a woman like in the original), from which I took the main artistic decision for this comic: instead of going for the usual transparent-glowy look for my little ghost, here he is with “drops of jupiter” (tiny glittery ‘stars’ and blueish reflections) in his fur.

Now, the story arc is officially over. See you soon with happier content!

38 note - Postate 10 febbraio 2022

#4

A tiny porcupine lady I sketched while I was having lunch 🎸🎶

39 note - Postate 13 novembre 2022

#3

Sing fanfic - “The mom living next door”

Ever since I read @pinwheelwhirl 's post with her headcanons about Miss Crawly knowing Buster ever since he was a kid, I've been wanting to try my own hand at writing something for these two. And the moment has finally come!

Here’s the fic!

Summary:

“Have you seen Miss Crawly’s brand new eye?” His father asked him one day, after he came back home from school. Their neighbor, in fact, had recently lost an eye, and now she sported a prosthetic one made of glass that gave her a funny derp look. “I did. She looks fun, it reminds me of a pirate.” A teenage Buster replied, smiling. “I want to write a story with a character just like her. And when I’ll have my theater, we’ll stage the show. I’m sure that everyone is going to love it!”

But rather than a character in a show, Karen ended up becoming a pillar to the theater itself, the only other person that knew the building down to its last brick just like he did.

[Attention, everyone! This fic is going to be an emotional one. You’ve been warned.]

45 note - Postate 24 marzo 2022

#2

It seems like Narry woke up on his funny side, on this run!

47 note - Postate 18 giugno 2022

Il mio post numero 1 del 2022

Meanwhile, somewhere in Heaven...

... We have a lovely couple of parents watching their son from above!

(For those who are wondering, no I didn't make up Buster's mom; her design appears in one of the original sketches of the Sing movie artbook)

73 note - Postate 5 aprile 2022

Guarda ora l'Analisi del tuo anno 2022 di Tumblr →

[amorchai]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ─ n.p

ttpd collection౨ৎ

pairing(s): neil perry x female!reader

summary: a romance between two individuals from different worlds who must keep their love secret due to familial expectations.

words: 1171

warnings/tags: r is considered 'lower class' since neil is upper.

the last place you would be seen near was neil perry’s family home. his harsh father would banish you away and punish your boyfriend for ever interacting with someone as “low” as you could be considered.

using your time after high school, which was very much a public school, to paint away in your room. the dream of becoming an art phenomenon in the greater future which neil only fuelled you to pursue.

neil was upper class, in a private school of all boys, your families different from one another in every way. each weekend neil’s parents throwing adult parties filled with fancy champagne and “hors d oeuvres” while you sat on your couch catching up on homework and your latest book.

neither of you told anyone in your spaces, not neil’s friends, not yours, and especially not his parents. on days he told his dad he was doing extracurricular school activities, he would be over at yours, writing playscripts and cuddled in your company.

so when neil left his prized possession at your house, you had to sought out to him as your next planned time wasn’t for another week. and neil would worry about leaving such a thing.

you awkwardly stood outside his school gates, glancing around feeling out of place of the rich bricked building encased with golden statues and gates. you tried to look nonchalant, but with this large an item held in your arms, you definitely stuck out.

in fact, it was the first thing neil’s friends noticed while the final bell indicated the end of day, the moment they stepped out in deep chatter, he heard knox’s exclaim of interest, “who is that?”

when his friend said this, neil didn’t expect his girlfriend to be standing far out the gates, amidst students leaving for the weekend. “hot, hot, hot,” charlie mused and they all seem to take notice of your frame.

neil glances around slightly nervous, chuckling along to his friends as they leave the gates. while saying their goodbyes, most leaving in separate groups depending on their journey, todd turns to his friend, “you coming?”

“i’ll catch up with you,” neil says, watching you with a small smile from across the main road. “you gonna try talking to her?” he asks, and neil smirks with a small chuckle again following, “maybe.”

he looks either way before crossing, your state giddy as your boyfriend walks towards you. “well, why are you here?” neil asks amused, glancing down at his typewriter encased by your arms. his typewriter. which now he realised he left at your place, you saving his weekend plans cooped up in his room telling his dad he’s doing homework when he’s writing away in his nook.

“you left your typewriter, and i knew you wouldn’t be able to get it back till next week. we can’t have that, can we?” you reply, neil glancing around to ensure his friends are out of sight before bending down to kiss your cheek sweetly. leaving a warm feeling upon the skin.

“here,” neil replies, lifting the machine from your arms and into his own before kissing your other cheek several times, erupting you into giggles as you push his arm jokingly. “you definitely can’t come back to mine?” you say with a slight pout, his hair flopping in front of his eyes in a boyish charm and you swoon.

he shakes his head sympathetically, “sorry, my love. my father got a big promotion, he’s got his boss and his wife over for dinner tonight, wants me there. i’ll see you wednesday though…”

it didn’t seem enough, you both felt it and you tug on the part of his tie visible above the typewriter to pull him down and press a chaste kiss upon neil’s lips and he smiles into it. “would much rather sit and watch you paint,” he swoons and you nod.

it’s just a shame you are both from completely different worlds.

he can tell you’re thinking about something, your eyes looked at his but were glazed in worry and he tilts his head inquisitively, breaking you from your reverie as you ask, “do you ever think we’ll be able to stop being so secretive?”

neil smiles softly, wanting nothing more. he dreams of a day where he moves away from his parents, under his own roof so his dad can’t give him a scolding when he finds out about neil’s girlfriend.

it wasn’t that he was ashamed of you, he was far from it. it was just so complicated, with his dad so very involved in every aspect of neil’s life, desperate for his son to go far and wide in the career world.

“of course, once i finish school this year i can apply to college and move out.”

he made it sound so simple, his eyes kind as they scan the features across your face, his smile growing which makes yours raise in response as well. and despite there being a big typewriter blocking your way, you can’t help but lean in and wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“these little moments matter just as much to me as anything else, though.” you murmur as his mouth leaves small kisses to your head since his hands hold the heavy object, “me too, my love. i plan on marrying you and living happy ever after. no one, not even my dad, is gonna stop me from doing that.”

you feel your heart ready to burst, the seriousness of his words enough to ease your worries, “who said we’re going to get married?” you muse with a teasing smile. neil is unable to tear his eyes from your face, despite having aching arms and being late home.

“oh, i said, did i not tell you?” neil laughs and you join in, your own bubble between you both as neil feels wary of being so close to you outside his school. “good luck with that,” you continue, tugging his tie again before standing back.

he smiles warmly at you, eyes gleaming, “i’ll need all the luck i can get when i’m dating someone as out of my league as you.” you shake your head teasingly at him, he couldn’t be serious. he was the one with a rich high-class background with the picture-perfect family – despite how it really depicts behind closed doors, it was very much the other way round.

“i’m serious! the forbidden love will seize soon as i plan to get down on one knee in years to come before you find out how out of my league you really are.” you raise your leg off the ground to nudge neil’s foot with your own, “you’re really something, neil.”

he smiles at you, moving towards the path he will take home, “i’ll see you on wednesday, okay?” and you’re nodding, “of course, bring the works you write this weekend with you.”

“always, my beautiful.” and despite the cold fall air, the entire walk home your cheeks feel positively on fire.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[ducknotinarow]

[2k3 RaphDon] "I need to rest."

| Send "I need to rest" for your muse to lay their head down in my muse's lap

It was rare when the lair was quite, not often something to ever happen really. Master Splinter and Leo went off for some training and Mikey tagged along. More like was dragged along. Punishment for skipping out on training the other night so he could sneak and watch some movie from the fire escapes of one building that let him see right in to another. Wasn't the first time why Mikey knew he could get away with it. Well the part of watching that movie not so much skipping training. So just left Raph and Don alone. More like left Raph alone in the lair.

Donatello was busy working away like always, and Raph? eh he didn't even see the reason to interrupt them. As he stood in the threshold of their lab not quite in the mood to be ignored, he just walked by Donatello leaving him to whatever he was busy with now. Some revamp of something or another. Sometimes a lot of what they said just went in and out of his ear. Raphael paused to look over the tool not in Don's touch at the time and snagged them. Safe bet they didn't need them if not over on the work bench before he made his way to where he kept his cycle. Just a ways past Donnie's own work space. Slightly whistling to himself.

Donnie wasn't the only one that got motor oil and grease on their hands after all. Donnie was just the only other one Raph trusted to touch his bike. They did built it after all. And there was just something special about that. Sure Raph got annoyed that Donnie kept so occupied all the damn time. But the bike? The bike was enough of a gesture to say 'I thought about you.' Raph recalled talking Donnie's ear off about a motorcycle the first time he saw one in person. Sure on TV too but it was the first time in person that really caught his attention. So when Don said they had made something just for him and it was this bike? Well it was kind of the little sign Raphael needed to see his partner did listen to him. And it was why he took such good care of it, in turn. Donnie showed love in their own actions after all.

Well and tinkered to make it faster. Hey sometimes him and Casey got into races up top and it would clearly be an insult to Donnie if Raphael lost! Nah can't have that at all. Clearly, and not because Raph was a sore loser. Maybe a little bit of that. Sat on the brick floor as he been busy messing around with the frame of his bike. Making it thinner would help make it go faster but he just could beat taking it off. Donnie even bothered to make sure it could be his favorite color? Maybe he could mess with the fuel pump instead? Though before he could even get a real start he heard the sound of feet against the floor. Sighed to himself go figure Donnie suddenly needed one of the tools Raph had gone and snagged just then uh?

Moving to sit more comfortably, as he fell to rest on his hunches waiting for Donnie to come and ask for whatever he was in search for. "Finally got ya nose outta the blue prints and gears?" Raph greeted them by. "Gonna wind up gettin' high off the fumes you always around. Startin' to think that is what your up too actually." he teased a bit, as he expected Donatello to toss in some snide comment himself. But nothing come up. Raphael titled his head to the side a moment as he looked them over.

"Hey, you alright?" Answer given when Don seemed uncaring about the fact he had to lower himself down to the floor moving lie down as they set thier head on top of Raphael’s thighs. Raph leaned back a bit so he could look down at Donnie.

"I need to rest."

Humming slight, he reached out to pull their mask down so to see how bad the eye bags looked. "How many days have you gone without sleep?" The lack of an answer only has the red banded turtle flick his tongue against his teeth to make a simple 'tak' sound. That held all his disappointment in the single sound. Moving hus head to gently stroke over the cruve of Don's head, though. Hoping to lure them into sleep.

"Idiot, ya not a manchie if ya just went to bed you would have this issue Donnie." He knows he is basically speaking to wall at the moment. "Couldn't have done this when I was least on the couch?" He complained but as he moved to least lean against his bike for some support it was clear he had no intentions on moving anytime soon. Donnie was lucky he loved him is all he knew.