#IF THERE'S TYPOS DON'T TELL ME

[iamirhen]

The Midnight Suns rock Band AU literally nobody asked for.

Lore dump under the cut.

The AU in which Robbie never died at that race because the people who cornered him in that alley were actually the police. He managed to get lucky for one single time and narrowly managed to avoid jail by getting sentenced to do community work instead and assisting mandatory sessions in Blade's therapy group for troubled youth at risk. He met Nico, Wanda and Illyana there and ended up begrudgingly befriending them. Blade considers this kids both one of his biggest achievements and biggest sources of headaches.

Nico still get on Robbie's nerves sometimes and in the rare ocasion that he fights with Illyana it usually gets so bad that Wanda needs to mediate because neither of them will put their foot down otherwise. He still makes an effort to keep them in his life, because when he's too tight with money Nico will "accidentally" order too much pizza when they meet and he'll end up going home with leftovers afterwards, so he doesn't complain too much when she asks him to drive her places; and Illyana once showed up to take care of Gabe when he had the flu because Robbie had to work and didn't want to leave him alone, so when she mentioned that she was going to have to sleep in her van for a few days while she searched for a new flat after her former landowner kicked her out, he let her crash at his couch instead. They take care of each other in small ways, even if they dont' mention it.

Starting the band was Nico's idea so they would have an excuse for regular meet ups. She was also the one who got Robbie a second hand battery and insisted that he at least tried. It turned out that he was not half bad at it, he had a good sense of rithm and good coordination, and was surprised to find out that the gigs they eventually managed to pull out were starting to become a very welcome source of extra income. They meet for practice at a community center located in an old church, regented by a couple of old ladies: Sarah and Agatha. Gabe is their number one fan (and Piotr Rasputin is a close second, much to Illyana's dismay), so he's the other reason he hasn't dropped out yet despite being tight on time. After going for several provisional names, the last of them being Scarlet and the Witches, which Robbie was not very enthusiastic about, they ended up setting for Midnight Suns after Hunter's incorporation.

After Wanda was involved in a car accident that left her badly injured and put Agatha in a coma, their band was left without their main singer and guitarrist. It was then when Hunter, Sarah's niece, who had been raised by her aunt and her partner, temporarily moved back to the state after receiving the news about the accident. Hunter's relationship with Sarah became strained after she dropped out of college and started studying to become a tattoo and piercing artist instead. She's covering for Wanda and her stay is only temporary, or at least that was the original plan, but it seems that after her incorporation the band is doing better than ever before. Robbie's not so thrilled about having a new person joining his inner circle, and specially not one that's such a cocky little shit, but better gigs means more money, and he doesn't want to have to go back to work two jobs now that he can manage to live with the money he gets from his work at Canelo's AND the band.

Thanks @moosemonstrous for helping brainstorm ideas.

[bluepallilworld]

Helloooooo! So I promised a surprise for Mimosa's birthday and here it is! 🎉✨

I made a ghost/ukagaka of him and Mu!!!!

If you don't know what a ghost is, it's a sort of desktop pet! You can have them on the corner of your screen or interact with them! Play with them! Give them gifts! Talk with them! Pet them... Many things to do ;)

If you never had a ghost, I'm gonna explain how to download everything to make them work! If you're not a beginner, you can scroll and download the files (first the font, second the balloon then the nar ;3c)

Oooook lesssgo, the steps:

Download SSP on your computer! It's the thing ghosts work on, the files are all but useless without it! Here's the link: [http://ssp.shillest.net/] Fair warning, it's gonna be in japanese- Don't be scared and just click the download button!

2. Double click on the thingie, and unzip it! I advise to not unzip it in your downloads and give it its own secured folder however ;P

Then to start SSP click on the ribbon in the now unzipped files, ignore the rest, there are just "the guts" on the ghost (I mean you can read the "README" file if you're unfamiliar to all this or are curious, it explains stuff)

3. Let the cat girl (Emily) talks for a second (in japanese sorry be patient) until it opens a lil' window with stuff written (in japanese ¯\_(ツ)_/¯). Click on the right button at the bottom

4. You're good to install them now! Download and install the three files down there ! In that order: the font, the balloon, the nar

Happy Monkey font!

Mimosa talks with the happy monkey font, if you don't have it already (I didn't), download the font and install it on your computer so that what he says doesn't look weird! I promise it will look neater if you do that!

the balloon file (zip)

It's his personal talking bubble! If you don't have it, the bubble won't be adapted to them. ;w;

Download it and drag the file on the japanese-talking girl, she will do the work for you!

Open the right-click menu by, well, right-clicking on the girl and go to the balloon and select "mimomu-balloon". You might want to change the language to "english" as well! The balloon is set!

Do that before installing the nar or he won't use the good bubble for the introduction!

the nar file of the ghost

And it's the important file with the kids in it :3

Download it! If you have the font and the balloon installed, you can go and drag the nar file on Emily and you'll be done! You can change ghost in the right-click menu if you want ;3

Tell me if something is unclear <3

Now I have people to thank!

@creative-firebug was the big motivator and enabler! No ghost without them. And they found lil' bugs in it so I could fix them before putting it out in the wild too! Getting lil' hypes, hearts and advices really helps when you're working on something for months! And they linked me the tutorial so yes, enabler.

@zarla-s has created the template I used (Girl and triangle!)! I knew nothing (and still don't know a lot) of code and just how it works at all so thanks for that :D

@ukagakadreamteam answered questions I had and half of the fun stuff wouldn't have been possible without their answers!!!!!

Both Mimosa and Mu are my lil' kiddos shipkiddies

[misc-obeyme]

Could I request a short fic or drabble with Barbatos and a tall masc mc who’s taller than the entire cast + a little bit of an endearing asshole, at least to Barbs? Mc is a bit standoffish but he really likes helping Barbs with anything.

Hi there, anon! Sorry for the huge delay on this. I hope you still see it!

Not sure if I managed the "endearing asshole" thing, but I did my best! I wanted to put them in a setting where MC had a chance to help Barbatos out, so hopefully this is close to what you were looking for!

Barbatos x masc!MC (I think you could read it as gn but there is a use of "he" and the MC is crazy tall lol.)

Warnings: none~

You stood in the entrance of the Demon Lord’s Castle with your arms folded. You had been summoned to have dinner with Lord Diavolo, who was currently discussing something with Barbatos in hushed tones. You tried not to tap your foot impatiently as you waited for them to shift their attention to you.

When they finally did, Diavolo clapped his hands and grinned at you. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight, MC!”

He was almost as tall as you. Almost. It continued to be an endless source of amusement to him that you were taller than he was. His perpetual excitement was both annoying and slightly endearing.

“Did I have a choice?” you asked, your voice and expression somewhat monotone. You were carefully not looking at Barbatos.

“You always have a choice, MC!” Diavolo insisted.

“Right, sure,” you said.

“Barbatos is going back to the kitchen to finish preparing the meal,” Diavolo said. “You can wait with me in the dining room or you can accompany him. I’m sure he would appreciate your help.”

“Ah, that is unnecessary, young master,” Barbatos interjected.

Diavolo was grinning still. He almost exuded an aura of knowingness. He would probably wink at you dramatically except that it would be too obvious. He was scheming to get you alone with Barbatos. You considered saying you’d go with Diavolo to the dining room, just to throw him off. But you really did want to help Barbatos.

You turned to Barbatos. “It’s fine,” you said shortly. “I’ll help you.”

“I am perfectly capable-“ Barbatos began.

“I’m sure you are, but isn’t it nice that MC wants to help? You wouldn’t refuse him now, would you?” Diavolo asked.

You glanced at Diavolo to see a puppy dog look that made you roll your eyes behind Barbatos’s back.

Barbatos sighed. “Very well. Come along, MC.”

You didn’t mind leaving Diavolo behind, following Barbatos as he brought you into the kitchen. He put you to work immediately, stirring a delicious smelling soup of some kind. You didn't ask about it, mostly because you knew it would likely be full of odd Devildom ingredients that you weren't familiar with anyway.

The little Ds were scampering around here and there, being more of a nuisance than assistance. Barbatos took it all in stride, stepping around them deftly whenever he needed to. He moved through the kitchen by intuition and you thought he could probably do it in his sleep if he needed to.

After a little while, you looked over to see Barbatos frowning up at a high shelf in one of the cupboards. He wasn't attempting to get anything out of it, just contemplating it as though he was trying to decide the most effective way of getting whatever it was he needed.

You watched as he lifted himself on his tiptoes and reached up an arm. His fingertips brushed against a serving platter. It was leaning against a punch bowl and as you watched him try to inch it out bit by bit, you could see that the bowl would fall in a matter of seconds.

You left the soup and strode across the kitchen, catching the punch bowl before it could smash onto Barbatos's head.

Barbatos looked up at you, his eyes wide in surprise. "Oh," he said and the tone of his voice was weak. He was very close, your bodies not quite touching. If you simply turned a little, you would be pressed against him.

"Be careful," you said. You pushed the punch bowl back into place and retrieved the serving platter with ease.

You handed the platter to Barbatos, but didn't let go as he gripped the other end of it. "You should've just asked me to get it."

Barbatos blushed beautifully. "I didn't wish to trouble you."

You let go of the platter and returned to the soup. "It's no trouble. I… like helping you. With things."

You glanced over your shoulder to see Barbatos looking positively stunned. And then he smiled, sweet and delicate and full of a fondness you didn't often see directed at you.

"Thank you, MC," he said as he set the platter down and began to arrange food on it. "I will keep that in mind."

And he did, after that. You noticed when Barbatos always made an effort to ask for your help, even with simple things. And you were always rewarded with that gentle smile.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[kirby-the-gorb]

[schneiderenjoyer]

The reason the whole age discourse is confusing is that bluepoch keeps pulling shit like THIS.

[elinekeit-artstuff]

That projectile titty rocket flew so my agender ass could walk 💞

[achillesdaily]

DAY #6

>posting Achilles until he arrives at my doorstep.

Achilles, introduce yourself.

[stellamancer]

2.6k words of absolute ridiculousness. contains essence of selfship coding. inspired by and takes place in @nagumoan's hsr office au so thanks goes to loni for letting me play in her sandbox!! i apparently love office aus. i was originally writing something different but uh. idk how this happened. proofread to the best of my ability. ALSO. i didn't research. anything about how this process works. i am sorry to anyone who works in this field.

There are many evils in this world and, for you, public speaking is one of them. Always has and always will be, but despite that, here you are, about to speak to a sizable group of people. You know well enough that this is just a part of your job, but it doesn't make it any less agonizing.

"Well then," Aglaea urges you and her normally soothing tone sounds more like a death march right now. "Go on."

She gives you what you assume is supposed to be a reassuring smile, but it doesn't help. It must be nice being her; not only is Aglaea good at this sort of thing, she's already presented— went first even.

Since Aglaea's no help you look past her at Blade in the futile hope that he might be able to save you, but he merely gives you an impassive stare before saying, "…it'll be over soon enough."

Should have known better.

As much as you love your coworkers you know full that they can't help you, can't fight your battles, and they certainly can't do your presentation for you. But, Blade is right, it'll be over soon enough— you just need to start.

With that in mind, you take a deep breath before standing up, gripping the folder in your hands like a lifeline. Shakily, you pull out a stack of papers and walk the room, offering a handout to everyone who's decided to attend the meeting. Obviously, there are your fellow members of the product design and development department, and naturally a few people from sales and marketing, and—

You stop short.

Sitting in the very back corner of the room is none other than the HR department's very own Mr. Sunday, legs crossed, notebook on his lap and—

Oh god.

You're not sure what's worse— the fact that Mr. Sunday is here right now or the fact that you can very plainly see an annotated drawing of the dildo prototype that Blade just showed off to everyone present.

He holds out his hand expectantly, offering you that pleasant yet chilling smile he always has in exchange for the handout you've been giving out. After a split second of careful consideration, you decide that Mr. Sunday's presence is much worse than the contents of his notebook; it's only natural to take notes at a pitch session after all.

You nearly crumple the sheet as you shove it into his hand before you spin around to make your way back to the front of the room. Why is Mr. Sunday even here of all places? You know that anyone in the company is allowed to sit in on pitch sessions, including anyone in the HR department, but as far as you're aware, Mr. Sunday has never come to one. Not only do you think that, as head of HR, he would be too busy to attend, but you can't imagine he has any reason to unless—

You nearly trip as the realization that he might be here to keep an eye on you dawns on you. There's no way, right? That would be ridiculous. Sure, you'd earned a spot on his watchlist, but everything you've done pales in comparison to what you've heard about Sampo in sales. You remember seeing him here too, so maybe he's the one Mr. Sunday's keeping an eye on. That has to be it, you tell yourself, if for no other reason than your own sanity's sake; you're only mentally equipped to deal with either this presentation or Mr. Sunday's scrutiny, not both.

When you get to the podium, you choose which problem to deal with and banish all thoughts of Mr. Sunday from your mind. Unfortunately, that does very little to dispel your unease because as you turn to face the crowd you remember, all over again, how you are not made for this sort of thing. You clear your throat and say, in an unintentionally squeaky voice. "Um… good morning everyone!"

If anything, the chorus of good mornings that echoes back at you is mildly comforting.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Aglaea give you a soft smile and next to her Blade nods, both of them encouraging you in their own way. You take a deep breath and continue. "So, the product I'm pitching today is called, um… nipple nibbler."

There's a quiet snicker somewhere in the room and you try to ignore the instinctive reaction of feeling like you're the one they're laughing at and not the product name. You swallow your self-doubt down and give everyone a sheepish smile as you add. "The name's still a work in progress.

"That said, the current name does an effective job of conveying the product's intended use. It's meant to—" you pause and glance down at your notes, "—be applied to your partner's skin, be it their… nipples or any other part of the body (excluding the vaginal area) and essentially licked off. It's similar to food play, though this product has been made with intimate scenarios in mind."

You look at the crowd to gauge their reaction and the fact that they seem amenable so far makes you sigh in relief. "Truthfully, since the product is this fairly straightforward, that's all I really have to say, so if anyone has any questions, I'll do my best to answer them."

Though you hope that no one has any questions.

To your dismay, a hand rises and it's March 7th, the marketing intern. "I was wondering, how exactly is…. nipple nibbler applied to someone's body?"

You flinch. That information is on the hand out you've given everyone, but it's something you should have probably explained yourself. "It's applied directly to one's body using your hands like a topical."

"Oh! I see!" She nods, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

"Any others?"

To your horror, not only does someone else have a question, but it's Mr. Sunday, of all people. Your anxiety shoots through the roof once more and you wish you could ignore him, but you can't. "…yes, Mr. Sunday?"

There's a quiet murmur of surprise throughout the room and it's obvious you're not the only one that's surprised that he's here. He stands and eyes the crowd, silencing everyone who has turned back to look at him instantly, then he turns his attention to you and asks, with that trademark smile of his, "I have a follow up to the previous question; is there a particular reason why you chose for this product to be applied by hand and not with some sort of applicator?"

"Packaging costs," you say automatically and while you wonder if perhaps you shouldn't have been so candid, it is something that needs to be considered if the company chooses to go forward with production. "For the most part anyway. I think there is probably some appeal in using one's hands."

Though, you suppose, for someone like Mr. Sunday, who is known to be a bit of a germaphobe, there is no such appeal.

"But, if the product is popular enough, we can look into investing in alternative packaging that's less hands on." You grab a pen that's sitting on the podium to jot down a note about looking into applicator options. "Any other questions?"

One more hand goes up; this time it's Sampo from sales.

"Yes?"

He gives you a smile and there's something about it that seems… odd, but then again he's an odd kind of guy. Reminds you of a used car salesman and you're not sure if that's a good or bad thing for someone in his department. "Do you happen to have any samples?"

"Oh." You take a second to process the question. "Oh, yes— yes, I do! They're not very big but, I do have some. Just come ask me when the session is over."

"Okay, sounds good~" he says, seemingly positively thrilled. You try not to give too much thought as to why.

You wait to see if anyone else has any questions, but when no one raises their hands you take that to mean that you're just about done. Excited to finally be done, you thank everyone, give a small bow and scurry as fast as you can back to your seat.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Aglaea whispers to you as the next person moves to take your place at the podium.

"I guess…" It could have been worse, though you realize that you should have been much, much more prepared. If anything, this will serve as a lesson for next time. You make another note under the one about the applicators about being more thorough with product descriptions next time.

The rest of the presentations proceed smoothly, with a couple of people from R&D pitching a few ideas too. Of those, the most notable is Anaxagoras' lubricant which sparks a borderline argument with Aglaea that Mr. Sunday is forced to intervene on.

Once everyone is done and the session is officially over, a few of the attendees make a beeline for you, looking to obtain samples of your nipple nibbler. In addition to what you think is a good chunk of the sales team, both Ruan Mei and March 7th ask for some as well. As you hand out the samples, you get the distinct feeling that you're being watched and when you look around, you lock eyes with Mr. Sunday.

The bubblegum flavored nipple nibbler sample nearly slips from your fingers as your entire hand goes still. You can't begin to fathom why he might be staring at you. Quickly, you duck your head and and try to see if there's anything or anyone behind you he might be looking at instead.

There is none.

So, then why? You don't get it.

"Thanks for the sample!"

It's like a lightbulb goes off in your head. Could it be that he wants a sample too? But then if that were the case, wouldn't he just come over and—

Mr. Sunday's question echoes in your head. Right. It makes sense that the lack of an applicator would keep Mr. Sunday from trying a product, even if he wanted to. Even if he makes you nervous, you'd like to give him a chance to try the product if he wants to.

As if on instinct, your brain starts to spew out ideas for Mr. Sunday friendly packaging alternatives. It almost feels as if your fingers are itching to get back to your desk to look into the possibilities because surely there's one that can appease someone like him.

It's not uncommon for Sunday's office to receive visitors; as head of HR, one of his many job duties is to lend an ear to the company's employees and help them resolve any issues that he can. While he would prefer that people tell him ahead of time if they'll be stopping in, there's still a fair number of people who will drop by unannounced.

Like right now.

If anything, though, this visitor has the courtesy to knock before just walking in.

"Yes?" Sunday answers, looking up from his computer.

The visitor slowly pokes their head out from one side of the door frame and Sunday recognizes you instantly (though he's proud to say that he's memorized everyone's name and face by this point). As usual, when you're in Sunday's presence, your expression is hesitant and unsure. "…do you have a moment, Mr. Sunday?"

This is a surprise. Sunday doesn't think you've ever come to his office of your own volition before; your visits have always been summons to address your attendance issues. You've since remedied your truant behaviors, but he's been keeping an eye on you to make sure you don't relapse. "Of course, how might I be of service?"

"Um…" You slowly walk into the office and your visage makes Sunday feel as if he's watching a fawn walk into a lion's den.

He motions to the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. "You're welcome to sit if you'd like."

"I-it's fine, this won't take long." You reach into your pocket and pull out a clear plastic zipper bag that contains a single plastic tube that resembles chapstick. Carefully, you place it on Sunday's desk before elaborating. "So I thought about what you asked at the pitch session the other day and came up with this. The nipple nibbler's consistency is a little softer than regular lip balm, but it's still solid enough that you can use this twist tube rather than your fingers."

By the end of your explanation, your features have relaxed a little and you give Sunday a small smile.

"O-oh. I see." It's clear that you're quite pleased with how you've decided to address the question he'd posed during your presentation. Truthfully, he had been merely voicing a thought that he believed consumers would have, but Sunday gets the impression that you believed that he had a personal interest in the product. After all, why else would you come here? Still, as HR he should be congratulating you for this accomplishment. "It's rather fortunate that you've come up with something so quickly. Am I correct to assume this applicator has roughly the same production cost as your previous prototype?"

You blink at Sunday, your expression growing oddly blank. "…yeah, it's about the same."

The disappearance of your shy enthusiasm only confirms Sunday's suspicions. While he doesn't quite know why you thought he he was interested in the product, your reaction makes him feel like he's failed you in some way.

"Anyway!" Your voice is an octave higher, the chipper tone obviously forced. "I just thought I would come tell you, Mr. Sunday. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything."

Hurriedly, you grab the new sample that you clearly meant to offer Sunday from his desk and start to rush from the room but before you make it out the door he manages to call out to you, "Wait."

Your entire body stills and slowly you turn back toward him. Sunday holds your gaze for a moment before he holds out his hand. You stare down at it before looking back at him.

"I don't mind if you leave that sample with me," he tells you.

You look away, "It's okay, Mr. Sunday, you don't need to feel obligated to take it if you don't want it."

"Nonsense," Sunday argues. "It would be rude of me to not accept since you came all this way to bring it."

Hesitantly, you turn back toward Sunday and, for once, he has trouble trying to figure out what you might be thinking. There are too many thoughts on your face to discern just one alone. Finally, you settle on one: hope. "Are you sure?"

"Of course."

You seem to search his face, evaluating his answer before you move back to his desk and place the bag back on it. "…If you use it, would you mind with giving me feedback?"

He smiles at you. "Naturally, though, I cannot tell you when exactly that will be."

You nod, and Sunday isn't quite sure what to make of the lack of surprise on your face. Now that you've accomplished what you've come here for, you move to leave the office again. It's not quite 5PM yet so Sunday can only assume you're going to return to your department, but…

"Before you go, may I ask one thing?"

You pause once more and glance back at Sunday, tilting your head in an odd way.

"…What flavor is it?" He'd heard from the other employees who had sampled the product mention a variety of flavors, most of which seem to be fruit inspired.

Sunday watches as your expression slowly morphs from a blank slate to sheer embarrassment. You avert your eyes as you answer in a quiet voice. "…caramel pudding."

A beat passes, then you add, your voice barely audible, "…because I heard you like it."

why is it that long. it shouldn't be that long i don't understand. if you read to the end, thank you, you're a real one.

[sanasanakun]

I think my favorite part of the dlc’s final boss is how it (can) directly mirror your Tarnished, and by extension, their relationship with Ranni. Obviously, this is coming from me, your resident Ranni glazer who will make everything about her if I can, so please understand this is my interpretation. 

My interpretation is that Miquella/Radahn act as a foil to Ranni/Tarnished, specifically when it comes to the themes of love, consent, and freewill. Now, I know it’s up in the air about how consenual the pact between Radahn and Miquella is. Personally, I see it as non-consensual; Miquella resurrected and controls a puppet of Radahn and/or bewitched him to be his “promised consort.” Given the theme of control with Miquella, I don’t think FromSoft would turn that around on us at the last second. Radahn’s situation is meant to be the final nail in the coffin; a demonstration of what Miquella’s “love” exactly means. Total control over one’s entire self and mind. Anyway, I digress, let’s get into how I see their situation mirroring, and acting as the antithesis, to Ranni and Tarnished. 

First, we’ll examine Miquella and Radahn. Miquella is presented almost throughout the entire game as a beloved figure. He is literally called “Miquella the Kind,” and his actions at the Haligtree paint him as an even more heroic figure. A demi-god who wants to help the weak, the oppressed, and anyone in between who has been scorned by the Golden Order. As we discover in the DLC, Miquella wants to create an “Age of Compassion.” But there’s always a catch, and Miquella’s plan is no exception. Why? Because his new age would remove the free will of everyone by giving him total control of how they feel, act, etc. He’ll make them happy and at peace because they’ll have no choice; they’ll have no self. This is exemplified in literal form with Radahn. The relationship between the two brothers presents itself as a one-sided obsession on Miquella’s part. Though we don't know a ton about them together, I think it’s safe to theorize Radahn didn’t willingly go along with Miquella’s plan. Radahn is canonically a fan of the Golden Order given his admiration of Godfrey and his father, Radagon. I can’t see him wanting to disrupt the current way of things. Plus, I don’t believe Maleania and Radahn would stage a fake war just to get Radahn into a position where he could be resurrected via Mohg. Too many hoops to jump through, so Occam’s Razor says Radahn rejected Miquella. 

Now that’s great and all, but the real meat I want to analyze comes from the actual boss fight, or more specifically, the twos’ body language during the fight. Radahn is an empty shell. He doesn’t have any dialouge aside from small grunts. He doesn’t address us at all, which is entirely unlikely for how he’s been described. He’s a ferocious warlord who values the strength of both his allies and enemies. At the very least, he would address someone as prolific and talented as the PC Tarnished. Yet, he doesn’t. Radahn is literally there to act as “the muscle;” he is the strong and powerful lord that Miquella admired him to be. However, by making Radahn only act like this, Miquella has erased the true essence of what made Radahn. He lacks his soul. Miquella might be the more interesting of the two when it comes to body language. I think Miquella’s theme of control really shines with how he places himself on Radahn during the battle. He is literally draped over Radahn with his arms wrapped around his neck. Obviously, at first glance this is meant to imitate an embrace, solidifying the two as both a team and lovers. Yet, Miquella’s position doubles in meaning when considering his need to control. The arms could represent a collar, with Miquella acting as the leash. His hovering gives off a “helicopter” vibe (for a lack of a better term). While playing I called him a “helicopter parent,” comparing him to where they are constantly looking over your shoulder and trying to direct you. Essentially, Miquella is caging Radahn in his embrace, revealing his need to control the situation and Radahn himself. Miquella is the personification of control; he won’t allow free will to happen because he thinks it causes too much pain and uncertainties. And Radahn, he embodies the fate of those who would live under the Age of Compassion; he is a puppet. Specifically, he is Miquella’s puppet in both battle and love. He doesn’t have a choice in the matter at all. 

So, how is this the antithesis to our beloved blue wife and the Tarnished? Ranni doesn’t appear to help the Tarnished during their fight with the duo, which I’ve seen a few complain about. While I would love to fight alongside my support princess (and I have downloaded the mod lol), I think Ranni appearing would undermine the character FromSoft has established and her relationship with the Tarnished. Ranni is very hands off. She gives her vassals the tools to work with and then tells them to do what they wish with it. She never forces you to do anything you don’t want to. When you confront her about her role in the death of Godwyn, she willingly admits it and then asks you if you’d like to pledge service to her. She doesn’t say, “You know my secrets, therefore you will be in my service so I can keep an eye on you.” Instead, it’s a choice; a choice for someone far below her in class and power, but she gives it to you nonetheless. For Ranni, the ability to choose and live the way you desire is incredibly important. She seems to dislike outside forces messing with the ability to expereince life (as she says feel, see, taste, etc). 

Therefore, in the final battle with Miquella and Radahn, Ranni is there with you via the tools she’s provided and the faith she has in you (you can interpret this as her blessing with the “we will see each other once more”). She doesn’t need to be hovering over you, arms wrapped around your neck; she trusts the Tarnished above all else to succeed and fight for her. But should they choose not to, she’ll be heartbroken but she won’t stop you. As for the Tarnished, our character is not a shell of a person. They are someone teeming with ambition and the will to fight for their chosen successor. They fight because they want to be there and challenge whatever comes to face them; they don’t need Ranni telling them “go fight Miquella and Radahn for me pls.” 

Their “Age of the Dark Moon” also is the antithesis to Miquella’s “Age of Compassion.” Whereas his is about control, Ranni wants to remove all outer god influence from the world. She wants people to experience their lives without the intervention of any god; to experience life on their own terms, whether they want otherworldly guidance or not. She literally takes her order and leaves the planet (?) with it and you. 

Ok, that’s enough of me rambling about whatever the fuck comes to my sleep deprived mind. I have a flight to catch in three hours, so I’m gonna leave it here. In closing, Ranni good I love her very much mwah<3

[bendreality-a]

all hail Rolan, master of Ramazith's Tower.

[applestorms]

two ways that i think you could potentially read this panel (and o!ciel's reaction to his brother coming back more generally):

OPTION 1: o!ciel has given in, fallen for the allure of the power that holding the title of Earl Ciel Phantomhive has granted him. he has gone on w/ this revenge plot (revenge for himself, as he specifically states during EWA, not his dead family) for long enough that he has essentially given up on all of his old familial attachments.

nobody matters except Him now, and maybe the people he can use to get what he wants (sebastian most notably, but perhaps also the other servants, so long as they stay useful). it is the Title and Power and Status that he holds dearly here and that he wants to retrieve, everything associated with the Earl name and his job as the queen's watchdog that he has so painstakingly worked at over the last three years. he wants his land and his life back, and he will do anything and shove anyone down to get that power back.

OPTION 2: o!ciel does not see the undertaker-revived bizarre doll r!ciel as his real brother. rather, o!ciel sees undertaker's revived r!ciel as a fake-- an imposter, if you will. amogus.mp3. and not only that, but this particular ciel is an even worse copy than he is in his eyes, less deserving of the name Earl Ciel Phantomhive than o!ciel himself, who at least can truthfully claim his right as the original ciel's twin brother. he doesn’t just want everything associated with the name, but the name Itself in the case.

when undertaker's true identity as a shinigami and plot regarding the bizarre dolls is first revealed on the campania, o!ciel is visibly disgusted by the very concept:

similarly, earlier (in the timeline) when he is first making his deal with sebastian, one of the first things he catches sebastian off guard about is seeing straight through his lie about the possibility of bringing his brother back from the dead (ft. one of the best seb faces ever):

note o!ciel's wording here in particular: "In other words, it's impossible to bring the dead back to life. You are incapable of turning back time."

even at what is essentially his absolute lowest point in the entire series, when minutes earlier his despair and onslaught of emotion managed to summon a literal fucking demon, o!ciel still has absolutely no doubts that his brother is Dead and going to stay that way. his first act in tethering sebastian here is motivated by this clarity of mind-- in fact, this is one of the ways in which o!ciel and sebastian are completely in agreement imo, and why undertaker himself works so well as the ultimate antagonist of the series, since he is essentially perverting this natural order that both seb & o!ciel are so attached to, one where death is Final and Absolute and Complete.

in other words: just the same as his twin, o!ciel Will Not settle for any fake brothers. a replacement, particularly one created and raised and under such horrendous circumstances, is entirely unacceptable.

honestly, i think there's at least a little bit of both of these options in o!ciel's claim to the Earl Ciel Phantomhive name up in that first panel at the top of this post. but personally, i definitely lean towards the second one holding more weight-- o!ciel is not someone who we see showing all that much respect or care for all the Earl rich boy bullshit, other than through the connections and power it grants him in the process of enacting his revenge. hell, in his whole angry spiel before this, he even explicitly calls the job itself "bothersome":

certainly, he calls r!ciel, "the real one," here. but more notably, i think his internal logic is revealed more by this other line-- "No one suspected me as fake! For three whole years!"

o!ciel might not be the "real" earl ciel phantomhive, the one born to the name and the title, but he is certainly a better, more deserving fake than this bitch that has had the audacity to drag himself out of the grave three years after his destined end. thus it is o!ciel alone who deserves this name and title and everything associated with it-- nobody else.

[shyravenns]

yeah yeah yeah Soap is dead, but how about Soap coming back and haunting every member of 141 like the clingy bastard that he is

Farah who never really knew Soap as well as the others, but still feels the gaping hole that his presence left. Farah, who finds herself standing beside Ghost underneath the cool night sky, and surprises herself (and him) with a joke that's so oddly distasteful about the state of their recent mission and feeling a soft warmth flutter in her chest at his light huff of laughter. Laughter that she feels as if she hasn't heard in months. Remembering hours later that herself that she could have sworn that there had been a brief, additional gust of laughter along the wind that neither of them bothered to acknowledged.

Alex who feels the unsettling quiet that's grown between all of them at all times as if it were a blanket. He knew Soap as well as one might expect from the very few times they worked together, and oftentimes thinks about the blossoming friendship between them that had died along with him. Alex, who often wonders about the kind of leader Soap would have been and places him in the tiny cranny in his heart that's reserved for every man and woman that's worked alongside him and died. Alex who feels the unwelcome *push* of hands that cause him to stumble so hard he feels as if his teeth has knocked out, and just barely remembers that he's in an active warzone before he glances up and sees the tall tale imprint of a bullet in the wall right where his head had been.

Rudy who had the privledge of actually becoming Soap's friend, and remembers the exact moment he heard the news. They weren't *close*. Not in the way that Soap was close with Ghost or Gaz or even Alejandro, but he still felt as if a bullet had pierced his own heart at the confirmation of his death. Watching at the brief flicked of emotions crossing Alejandro's face at another soldier lost far too soon. Rudy who flips through the long forgotten sketchbook that Soap had left during one of his visits to Las Almas, and delicately places his fingers on the sketches. Rudy who doesn't remember falling asleep, and wakes up with the scent of a long forgotten friend floating in the air and a sketchbook that's been left on an empty page he doesn't remember seeing. He stands up to get his pencil.

Alejandro who takes every death to heart, and keeps every dog tag that he can find stored in a drawer in his desk of all the men and women he had the honor of fighting alongside with. Alejandro who grieves at the absolute unfairness of it all, and vows to kill Markarov himself if he should ever have the chance. Alejandro, who still wants to believe that there is some sort of afterlife and that maybe there's a point to all of this. Alejandro, who loses *another* soldier and feels the weight of a hand on his shoulder that squeezes, and thinks that just for a moment that he can hear the faint whisper of bad spanish with a slight scottish accent in his ear. Words barely perceptible even by his own trained ears, and yet it brings a small smile to his face.

[atomic-waste-of-time]

Mantra for myself so I don't forget

Perfect Fuckdoll Perfect Toy It's a thing to be enjoyed

Perfect Fuckdoll Perfect Toy It's a thing to be enjoyed

Perfect Fuckdoll Perfect Toy It's a thing to be enjoyed

@gothgengargirl kinda inspired me, it's a wonderful doll and friend, and I won't lie when I say I wanna impress it, that could be my people pleasing nature though idk, I hope it likes this post? idk, idk a lot of things, I just know its very nice to me and I wouldn't mind if it could teach me more about being a doll, it would be helping me a lot, idk I'm kinda flustered I think? emotions are weird. If you see this gothgengargirl I should tell it I typed this with my eyes closed so I don't think too hard and I still ended up overthinking, haha..

[phantomsf0rever]

oh to be a journalist interviewing the most doomed woman in new jersey about her cute little outfits...

i hope tumblr doesn't compress her... i usually use big canvases and it turns out fine but this file was particularly diabolical

[toptensupakorn]

tagged by @negrowhat 🩷

no pressure tagging: @sherrymagic @clairedaring @sanvees @ahxu-laowen @ciizerutricha

[specific-dreamer]

the people have spoken and i shall be writing the pic where pony and johnny never went to dally

BUT i can’t decide if it should be in darry’s pov or pony’s so i’m gonna write the start to both under the break and then you guys pick

for the people who asked to be let aware here are your tags, it's not done but here's a progress report i suppose: @theleopardstalker, @darry-queen, @skaryskeletons, @too-damn-good-for-growing-old, @dancertori24, and @johnnyburntcake

(save for when you have time because it is v important to me that you know i’ve only written the introduction, the thesis if you will, and pony section is 642 words and darry’s is 375 words. and im not even done i simply forced myself to stop there)

darry’s

darrel shaynne curtis is not a rough person. full send. well, okay, he was rough during football, but you can’t play ball and not be rough. especially not when you’re captain. then again he also loved ganging up on sodapop with ponyboy when they was younger, and well let’s just say darry always ended up bribing soda not to snitch to their mama at the end.

okay fine, maybe darry was a rough person. maybe it was that part of him that hit pony tonight. it was that part of him that scared his baby brother so bad the poor kid ran away. from him. darry was never going to forgive himself.

“darrel?”

he was never one for dramatics but he had half a mind to cut his hands off, just to make sure he never messed up like this again. he’s not too sure how’s he’d cut his left hand off after cutting his dominant hand, but that was a problem for later. then again, who’s gonna pay the bills if he has no hands to get work done.

“darrel?”

right. scratch that idea. it wouldn’t be fair on soda anyways, leaving him with the responsibilities of paying bills and keeping everyone together because darry was too fucked up to be useful.

his eye starts to twitch and his leg starts shaking. something that usually only happens when darry is real scared. it goes without saying it hasn’t done it since his mama and daddy died.

glory, he really fucked up didnt he? what if ponyboy doesn’t come back home? soda would hate darry for that. or what if pony doesn’t want to come back unless darry was gone? soda might not like it for a day or two, but his littles had always been closer with each other than they ever were with him so he might not mind so much.

darry’s not much for dramatics, he preferred to leave that to pony, but if it came down to it, darry would leave just as fast as their parents died. (…too soon?)

“darrel!”

darry jerks so hard he can taste that metallic twang that blood has. he bit his tongue and somehow, the hurt that came with it quieted his mind a little.

pony’s pov

when ponyboy wakes up, his first thought is that sodapop had to stop throwing him in the lake. no matter how many times soda threw him, pony would never learn how to swim like that.

he sits up to say just that to soda when his eyes sees someone laying on the grass. okay… he's never been at the lake without his parents before. and it’s dark outside which is really weird; his mama never lets him outside past the street lights, the last time he was out late his mama was in a worry and his dad was so mad he was honestly a little worried he was going to get the breaks beat off him if darry hadn't stepped in and took the blame.

staring at the person, pony rubs his eyes. that doesn’t matter, right now he needs to figure out which one of his dumb brothers were laying in the grass before they got a crook in their neck or before they dad came looking for them. he’s not sure what’s worse; on the one hand, whichever brother it is would surely complain and blame pony for the crook in their neck even though it’s totally not his fault. on the other hand, if their dad finds them they’d surely get the lecture of a life time and would never hear the end of it.

yeah, pony thinks with a shudder. his dad finding them would definitely be worse. pony shakily gets to his feet and walks closer to the figure. he’s only about three feet away when he sees the pool of blood and the mop of brown hair. his stomach drops before his brain remembers neither of his brothers have brown hair.

it’s only then that it occurs to pony that they aren’t at the lake. it’s only then that ponyboy is brought back to the present. that he realizes he doesn’t have to worry about his mama worrying or his dad coming to look for them. (they’re never going to worry or look for him again and, god, pony has yet to accept that, but he can’t wait for the day it hurts less to remember it.)

and it is then, when ponyboy is staring hard at the brown hair and the pool of blood, that he remembers where he is. he’s at the park. because darry hit him and he- oh god, he came here with johnny, where’s johnny?

pony whips around, his heart once again dropping. but johnny's still alive. shaking and wiping his blade on the grass, but alive. that’s good, pony doesn’t think he’d be able to make it up back home with his sanity in tact if that was johnny bleeding out.

ponyboy is so in his thoughts he can hardly hear johnny speaking, “i killed him. i killed that boy.”

pony can’t bring himself to look at johnny for too long, out of fear that his mind will start to replace the body with johnny. but yeah. he's right, johnny did kill him. pony can’t really recall his biology class real well right now, but he can remember something about how the human body can only lose so much blood and that boy has definitely lost it.

darry’s gonna be so mad at pony for getting caught up in a murder case. thats if he’s not mad at pony for getting nearly killed himself. his stomachs twists at the thought.

glory.

ponyboy almost died tonight. he knew it was always a possibility, he wasn’t going to live forever. but god. those socs really wanted to take his life tonight and for what? talking to a girl? he’s not soda, it’s not like pony ever even had a shot at cherry, even if he wanted one (and he did kind of, but not if it risked his life).

pony was shivering something fierce when be finally looked away from bob. “johnny, i think im gonna be sick.”

he barely hears johnny giving him the go ahead as he does his best not to vomit all over bob. he never liked bob but pony can at least show him a little respect since it’s his fault the kid's dead.