#ILL FIGURE OUT BACKGROUNDS SOMEDAY

[actonesceneone]

i’m free!

[b0nelessdoodles]

Does he get a happy ending? (Please tell me he gets a happy ending, or at least an ending where he isn't left in utter torture)

you're in lucky bud 'cause for the most part he currently has a happy ending! at least in terms of like where he is at in the rp 'cause like i could always make things worse but i think he's suffered enough so he'll probably be fine

as of rn he's happily married to pure vanilla after the two finally stopped pining for each other and i love it for them both <3

[camellia-salazar]

April's drawings and doodles!! Get ready! 🎉🌟

At first, I was gonna draw ARG tangled in some rope, but then the rope looked like a ribbon, so I made Gangle into a monster instead. Also, I drew two of the most underated cats from Warriors ever, especially Lionheart.

(I started this first but finished it second). Drawings of certain characters cause their birthdays this month, except for Colin his birthday is at the end of March. I just forgot to draw him. I just love how Cody, Popee, and Waluigi share the same birthday, tho. 🎉

Edit: (No offense to those born on April 1st, btw).

I was writing a story with these six, inspired by The New Prophecy. But I haven't written it in some time. Idk if I'll ever continue it. I don't think I'll post it anywhere, either. Probably.

The next two drawings I started a month or so ago but didn't finish until this month.

Took quite a while to finish, but I'm glad I did. Idk where this takes place yet, but it is a scene from that crossover I keep thinking about but never really writing down.

Either takes place before or after the drawing above it, I don't really remember. What I do know, tho is that I drew these drawings because idk I just felt like Adam would have interesting interactions with some other characters.

I rushed this at the end. I did not want to leave it out. I want a clean slate next month. God damn it. I love crossovers, how bout you?

More about the Multifandom lore and other stuff below if you want:

Characters who die in canon that end up in the place (idk what to call it) keep being in the clothing that they died in. (Rip Ram and Kurt from Heathers: the Musical). (Spoilers warning if needed) So Adam is stuck with his robe he wore during the war with Charlie and the others from the hotel.

Also, about the 3rd drawing, like I said, it's an idea I had that, yes, takes place in the same crossover thing I think about. The colors in the background of each kiddo are involved in it, too.

The first two drawings are pretty much just some random doodles (idk what to do with the one with ARG and monster Gangle) while the other three kinda have stories to them that may or may not be written or animated on someday. (God, I hope that last sentence made sense).

Oh, and Bluey, Bingo and their cousins got to visit the Cul-De-Sac cause of a reason that's also in the multifandom/crossover I think about, I don't know if I should explain it or not. Meh.

BTW I've tried to match the original art styles of everything before, but this time, I've taken some steps forward. The hardest thing to figure out is the claynimated ones like Orel, Clay, and Claire. But I managed (for now, probably).

Edit: i went back and fixed it, I feel so much better about it now.

I even tried to have it seem like Bluey and others are slowly transitioning to the EEnE art style a bit.

But anyways, thanks for looking at my art and reading my rant! (If you did, if not, don't worry)

Have a good one! 🌟✨️✨️👋

(i keep forgetting to include my logo in my fanarts, but whatever, maybe next time, maybe next year ill start. Idk.)

[alinktoana]

30 day no fanart challenge

this is the meat of the challenge: no fanart for 30 days (oh wow lol) 1. drawing categories/prompts instead of IP: it can be *anything*, it can be food, hobbies/professions, folklore/mythology. eg: actual taiko drums instead of taiko no tatsujin characters, cute dinosaurs instead of yoshi, cool hedgehogs instead sonic (lol) 2. IF i happen to wanna draw fanart, it's gotta be at least 100 years old (anything before 1924) eg: drawing fanart of John Tenniel's Alice (1865) and not disney Alice (1951), Albert Lynch's Joan of Arc (1903) and not Clone High Joan (2002). ps: im not sure about famous people yet, but i think ill go with the same idea that theyd have to have been dead before 1924.

here's some stuff ive drawn with that in mind, even though i hadnt stablished the challenge yet lol

why a no fanart challenge? well well well, if this isnt another post artist alley eulogy lol

here's some background feelings: after having helped promote 2 japanese food festivals and tabled on both its artist alley's, and knowing myself, and having grown up in the age of comic/book to film adaptations and the rebootprequelsequelmagaddon, it's really hard for me not to fanart, even though i trashtalk hollywood all the time for not taking risks and doing original stuff, lo and behold, i do the same. who am i to judge _anything_ when i watched all three star wars sequels in theaters and crushed on kylux for years, i was kneedeep into hannigram, i gave money to the barbenheimer industrial complex. how can i blame RGG for not letting kiryu go when i _cried legit tears of joy_ when pirate majima was announced? (granted, it's not as bad as the kiryu situation lol but this is about ma$cots, not me lol)

i love a lot of characters, a lot of stories, im always jumping from show to show, game to game, and coming back to them. but i wanna go beyond my love for other people's art and be in love with my own, now that im at a better skill and mental state. it might not resonate as much, specially at the japanese festivals im a part of, but i wanna try. and im gonna start slow, i *am* going to draw japanese food, japanese animals, and create my tiny little scenes and see what comes up. i love stickers with every fiber of my being lol so ill always have in mind that ill draw stuff that i would wanna stick on my own sketchbooks and journals. but i need to do this, at least for 30 days. who knows what will happen later, you know? a friend of mine once said that colored pencils are like sugar, and graphite pencils are like veggies. and i feel like fanart and not-fanart is the same. we love fanart, but it's not healthy to only draw fanart... also i love people who delve into IP OCs and stuff, it always seems a lot of fun. i could try that, but i think ill cut my fanart ties cold turkey and then i can figure something out, i dont know lol i could go back to d&d character sheets lol another side note: i went to film school bc i loved watching movies. i wanted to tell stories, but i had no idea how, and i didnt think i had the talent for drawing. i started studying japanese and bullet journaling, bc i had the urge to draw, and those were the mediums that were close enough to drawing i felt i could try. and then hannibal happened, i had a roommate who was learning to watercolor, and i was like, screw it, let me draw hannigram bc i love them lol ive had the opportunity to make some movies, but logistically and creatively, they never felt as good as having the spark of inspiration, sketching, linearting, painting, printing and selling these tiny ass stickers. there is some control freakness in that, sure lol but there's also a need to build confidence in my own abilities, which sadly i didnt have a space for in movie sets... anyway, ill always mourn not having spent my teens drawing, but im making my kid self proud now <3 also i might post my new stickers at some point, i still havent made a pinned post lol but someday, you know so yeah, if anyone's reading this, ty lol TLDR: if you draw, write, sculpt, whatever, anything, and you tend to do fanart, ask yourself if you're fanarting a bit too much, if there's a way of turning your love for these characters/worlds into something different and more you.

[xiapet]

WoL Intro

I figured I should probably introduce my FFXIV characters so I can WoLpost on Tumblr. This is not a FFXIV exclusive blog, it's just the thing I can't shut up about rn so I'll pin this for the time being.

Name: Applesauce Betty (main alias), Melorabette Lenoir (birth name)

Race/Clan/Gender/Orientation: Elezen/Wildwood/♀️/Undefined

Age: 29 at the start of ARR, born 1546

Main Job(s): WHM and BLM

Secondary Jobs: SMN, RDM, SCH, AST

DoH/DoL Job(s): Botanist

Partner(s): Aymeric de Borel (former), Lucan Artorian (fiance's WoL, current)

Other family: Renadora Artorian (eventual daughter with Lucan)

Applesauce is a WoL and fucking hates it. Blames herself for everything, wishes she could be a normal woman living a normal life, stubborn, kind of a hypocrite, serious, and stoic. Pragmatic, highly emotional but represses it, cannot go with the flow, doesn't like change, a control freak but only when it comes to her own situation, prone to mental illness, socially awkward due to years of isolation after her mom died, very good at keeping her decorum, always sees things through to the end. Fiercely loyal, empathetic, maternal towards kids. Eventually works through her trauma to be a more likeable version of herself.

Name: Rhu'by Edwina

Race/Clan/Gender/Orientation: Miqo'te/Keeper of the Moon/♀️/Bisexual

Age: 21 at the start of ARR, born 1554

Main Job(s): AST and BLM

DoH/DoL Job(s): Alchemist

Partner: Estinien Varlineau (eventually, it's a slow burn)

Rhu'by is NOT a WoL but does have the echo. Highly spiritual, sees ghosts and was bullied for it as a kid, misunderstood, independent, headstrong, excellent judge of character, can see through people's bullshit, soft and gentle spirited, highly understanding and open minded, can be snarky if she likes you, a mild flirt but oblivious to other's flirting, a yearner, generally chill, bright outlook on life but not to the point of being the sanguine, level-headed, perceptive.

I like to share gpose and WoLqotd type things so now if you see those you can have some background information into who these characters are. I've been playing on and off since 2019 and consistently since Endwalker dropped. I'm always open to discussing lore so feel free to ask questions if you have them. Rhu'by is an existing OC from ttrpgs I'm still fleshing out and is my alt character I made this year (2024), Applesauce is my main character who I started the game with in 2019. I have 2 main timelines/canons happening simultaneously.

Applesauce's canon includes Rhu'by but only as a side character who comes in later in the story.

Rhu'by's canon does not include Applesauce, but has Rhu'by as main participant in the msq (for gameplay and lore purposes)

This is mostly because the events of Ghimlyt Dark are important to both canons but for different reasons and cannot exist in the same canon so 2 canons it is ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Maybe someday I'll have the confidence to share any of the pounds of fanfic I have written/am writing about them but don't count on it.

[sollucets]

june in the museum in e1/e2 fought me So hard by the way. all my episodes are 1080 and frankly the quality is already..... ;;; bt the first one i made was worse? somehow

and then this one i like but the background kept fragmenting / has that funky ring. its from sharpening but i couldnt figure out a way to fix it without. ykno. not sharpening. the car june gif has this too, on the seat, but again…. i couldnt, and shes only wearing that outfit in that One Scene :( ill figure out getting rid of this someday.

so i switched to e2 and took the one i used but even that one is. my least favorite of the set. it stayed because june's face & hair are so so cute

[maybe-drawing]

Inktober 2022: A reflection

This year I did Luna ‘s (who is an amazing artist!! Check them out on Twitter!!) Inktober. Spoiler, I did not do all the days as I got sick halfway through and then just stopped lol. However, it was remarkable good practice and I learned a lot! One might say you can see me improving 👀 It gets better, promise!

Here the full prompt list:

by https://twitter.com/LunaIsAnArtist 

1. Sprout

yes this is bdubs fanart, (I’ll do a separate post with the fandom one and tag them there) Also learned about gradient maps!

2. Ladder

I cannot for the life of me figure out how to render stone, and it really shows

3. Glory

I do not dislike this one, however Clip Studio Paint's weird artistic render line feature really stole the show here lol

4. Investigation

Played with gradient maps again. The color is sure something!

5. Rosemary

At this point, I was wondering if a completely lineless painting style was something I even like? And honestly it has its appeals, and I think ill keep playing with it, but I missed having lines.

6. Home

Them <3 @liebesamateur​

7. Boots

I love this little buddy!! Look at them!! Lovely!! Also this was when I decided to return to a more painterly lined look for my art again :D

8. Voice

This is one of my absolute favorites!!! The light hello???? also the tiny pumpkin on the hat :D

9. Fragment

Did a study of a lemon and went you know what would be fucked up

10. Ranunculus

this looks so much better than it has any right to!! Indie game vibes hello?!?

11. Moss

Bdubs fanart again, but look at him, he's just a little guy! Very much based on countless designs I’ve seen all over. (if you know the OG lemme know) Certified creature.

12. Worth

I don't like this one... The concept is there, but the execution is sloppy and kinda off-putting. The only thing I kinda like it the blood at the very top opening. 

13. Float

I love this very much not anatomically correct baby!!!

14. Poppies

I mean long arms!

15. Zodiac

I’m torn bc on one hand the background is stunning, I love the colors. On the other hand, this would have looked too much better lineless, and the lens sky reflection is just lazy and doesn't fit with the rest of the style.

16. Evolution

GHOST CRAB!! I downloaded some new brushes, and it was just sooo much fun. 

17. Meadow

I really like everything except the “flowers”. The clouds and background/foundation is solid, but the weird flower brush is too sharp and it just doesn't work. Also, the colors of the flowers are supposed to be in shade and idk man 

18. Examination

Now this one could make more sense, like perspective wise and the highlights are a bit wack. However, it's really cool and I like it a lot. The bluish tint for the glass, the goldish bronze, the background yes!!

19. Reflection

The poses for this kept just not working out. I couldn't get the angles, nothing made sense, so I made them silhouettes! And it works nicely. I like this one. I am kinda starting to overuse that background contrast thingy, but it's fiiiiiinnnne. Also, the curtain??? The red pops so well hello, its just bam, and it deserves to do that. 

20. Bullet

It's a bullet train! Get it? Anyway, I really like the burn effect for this one and I wanted to make it a spooky train. One thing I'd improve is how the likes are fading into the smoke, it doesn't look quite right.

22. Bones

This is kinda my burnout point and it shows. The line thickness is all over the place, I didn't work on this very much and just slapped some things on there and put it up. I'd love to draw a proper pile of bones someday, but this wasn't it.

23. Mutation

I do kinda like this one, and I don't have any major complaints. I just remember not really feeling doing Art™ at that time.

29. Wyvern

I sketched this the next day and was so normal about it. Idk if this is really a Wyvern, but it looks cool! I really like the frame and breaking it. It gives a nice break and depth!

[creative-robot]

I love her???

[hwanchaesong]

Hi, hope you're doing well!! I wanted to request a yeosang imagine based on the song dancing with your ghost. Probably very very sad like the reader dies in some accident while driving to their date or something, just a sad fic from yeosangs pov. Thank you so much 💓

a/n: this request has got me in the feels 🤧 tysm for requesting and happy reading~ 💚

👤: ATEEZ Kang Yeosang

📼: Dancing With Your Ghost - Sasha Sloan

genre & warnings: angst, mentions of death, implication of suicide, trauma, depression, mental illness, and overall just dark and sad

word count: 1.0k

for anyone who wants to, don't be shy and send me asks based on Prompts Request Song Version. Thank you so much!

One step, two steps, and a twirl.

"I've prepared something for our anniversary." Yeosang mumbled from behind you, his hands wrapping themselves on your waist.

"Really?" a teasing smile formed on your lips while you fix the collar of your shirt, your head turning to face him so that you could put a kiss on his cheek.

The dim light has set the mood in the living room, the record player's noise echoes throughout the area as your and Yeosang's favorite song fills the background.

"Text me when you're out okay? I'll come and get y-"

Yeosang wasn't able to finish his sentence when you put a finger on his lips.

"Nope, stay here and rest, it's your day off."

You laughed when he pouted, finding him adorable.

Your hands reached over to cup his cheeks, leaning in to give him a sweet kiss.

"I promise I'll come home as soon as I can."

He still remembers the way your lips felt on his. The way your skin warms his icy one.

How could he forget when he lives in it?

The neverending spiral of love and admiration, and he's so sure that he'll end up marrying you someday.

Yeosang skips around, soles of his feet bouncing lightly on the hard floors, it doesn't matter to him, he can't feel anything, not when his insides are frozen solid and nothing can thaw it but you.

"Hey baby? Are we still on for tonight?" you asked him through the phone.

Giddiness taking over Yeosang's body at the thought of you coming home to him once more.

It happens everyday, but it doesn't make it any less important. He cherishes every moment of you in his life, even the smallest things because it is the evidence that you're alive and well, keeping the fire in his soul burning brightly.

"Of course we are! I can't wait to see you baby."

Even though you can't see it, he still lets out a smile, a sign that he thinks of you in every breath he takes.

"Me too, I l-"

Your loud shriek and screeching tires resonated through his phone's speaker, an ominous feeling creeping up on his guts, especially when a loud crash continuously rings in his ears.

"Y/N, baby, what happened?" he screams yet no one on the other line has heard the anxiouness behind it.

The phone call ended just like that, and so is his everything.

The song is already near its denouement, melodies getting slower and lyrics lesser than before.

Eyes closed and a small smile on the dancer's lips, hands positioned in front of him like he's swaying someone to the beat.

Yeosang showed up at the scene of the accident, and the only thing that he saw is a figure getting covered by a white cloth in a stretcher. He couldn't see the face, though he can clearly recognize that piece of red fabric anywhere.

That velvet silk that he bought for you on your birthday.

No. This can't be happening.

His knees are wobbly and hands clammy, yet he still did his best to walk closer, every step heavy, nerves shaking, not fully comprehending what is happening.

"Sir?" a policeman interjected his movements, "Are you perhaps related to Ms. L/N Y/N?"

"Uh," he looked down, not being able to answer swiftly, "yes, she's my girlfriend."

The man in front of him sighed, sorrow adorning his face as he bowed at Yeosang.

"I'm deeply sorry sir."

The song tones down, a chuckle escaping from Yeosang's lips as he lied down on the sofa, hands reaching for a frame on the table.

He remembers the trembles he felt when that policeman apologized. All questions swirling in his head.

Why is he acting like something bad happened?

What does he even mean?

He denied reality, even when the answers were dawned on him in the form of your pale, lifeless body on the stretcher.

He won't fucking accept it.

He was supposed to propose to you that day.

He was supposed to marry you next year, then you'll build a family, then you'll live happily ever after as an old couple, but that was scratched off in his bucketlist.

Yeosang kneeled down on the dirt, lips quivering and heart palpitating as he caressed your cold face.

"Darling? I'm here, please wake up, I'm here now."

No response.

"Baby, come on. Don't pull a sick prank on me like this."

Still no reply and he couldn't help but shake your stiff body, begging for you to open your eyes. He was causing a scene that the people in there had to hold him back.

Tears pouring out his eyes, cursing at the sky for stealing you away from him. Hating on every god out there, condemning them all to hell.

"What bullshit is this?! All I did was love and all of you, insolent shits had to take all of that?! Fucking thieves! Fuck you all, I hope you all live in darkness!"

He wished that, though it seems that he was living in it instead.

It was difficult to exist when all he sees is you. In the kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, your shadow is everywhere and who was he to ignore you?

People say that he's crazy for talking to the air, and he say fuck them because they know nothing.

They don't know what it feels to expect someone in your arms at the end of the day, only for you to have their remains for forever, not even having the moment to say a final goodbye.

They say that he'll love again, find someone new, but how can he do that when he finds it hard to trust in love again?

How can he do that when every year, every day, every minute, every second, all he thinks of is your relationship anniversary turned into your death anniversary.

How can he do that when his heart and soul still belongs to you?

Now he pretends that he's moved on, sleepless nights hypnotizing himself to get ready for tomorrow's all day and afternoon acting. Telling himself that he's alright even if his world is shattering wildly day by day.

"It's okay," he mumbled, fingers grazing your oh so beautiful smiling photo instilled inside a mirror and paper, "I'll be with you soon, my love."

Music on repeat and hours of dancing with a nebulous entity, Yeosang decided to rest together with the buried ring inside his pockets.

"Wait for me."

[brattysmiley]

here it is anyway

just to inform you :

-I mixed parts of the movie saga (timeline, characters, story) with the original story background of Fred from “The Life and Death of Fred Krueger”

-We don’t know what day he was born in September so I put it on the 13th. Why? Because it’s Freddy Krueger’s Day ;) (so it’s an headcanon)

-There’s no mentions of Freddy’s Nightmares in this.

Birth

During the month of December, Amanda Krueger, who was a nun trainee at Springwood Psychiatric Hospital, found herself accidentally locked in a tower with about one hundred mentally ill patients. She was unfortunately attacked and brutally raped by them and was found very weak, pregnant with a baby. This is how Frederick Charles Krueger was born on September 13th, 1942.

Too shaken by the tragedy, she decided to place little Frederick in an orphanage and never wanted to hear about this story again.

Childhood and teens years

Raised from infancy by a succession of ax murderers, rapists, and arsonists, young Freddy was adopted at an early age by a lonely old pimp, Mr Underwood. During his childhood, he was mocked and bullied by his classmates and teachers for being “The son of a hundred maniacs”. Some signs of sadism appeared when he started to attack small animals, such as hamsters, which he slaughtered with a hammer. He managed to calm his urges for a while.

 Mr Underwood hoped that the strange-looking boy might someday make himself useful by luring curious drunks into the filthy alley in which his disease-ridden whores earned their meager pay. Whenever the old man would catch his adopted son enjoying the services of one of his employees, he would express his displeasure by beating the boy almost to the point of unconsciousness with a razor strop. It did not take young Freddy long to begin associating sexual pleasure with the infliction of pain. Occasionally, the old man would punish Freddy for some imaginary offense by drawing blood from his belly with a straight razor. Refusing to cry out loud no matter how badly his sadistic father slashed him, the boy began to take a perverse sort of pleasure in fingering the narrow scars that soon covered the front of his body.

As a young man, Freddy showed no more aptitude as a pimp than the old man showed as a father. Finding the boy to be of no practical use, the old pimp paid no attention to him whatsoever except when doling out his daily punishment. After a while, Freddy began almost to welcome the beatings, which were the only expression of parental interest he was ever to know. Freddy finally decided to kill his adoptive father with his razor, with which he enjoyed mutilating himself. Before he left, Freddy used the money he found in the old man’s strongbox to hire a professional arsonist to torch his house while the old pimp’s dead body laid on the floor of the basement.

Early adulthood, becoming a tramp

With no formal schooling and no particular skills or aptitudes because he dropped out of school at an early age without any particular diploma, Freddy wandered from town to town doing odd jobs and getting into trouble with the law. He began to drink heavily and spent many nights sleeping in the gutter. Freddy was sleeping in an alley near the local schoolhouse when a group of young boys decided to try picking the drunk's pockets. One boy’s hand was still in his pocket when Freddy awoke in a drunken rage and lashed out wildly with the bottle of gin clenched in his hand. The bottle landed on the boy’s head with a loud crash as his four companions fled in terror. Freddy watched the boys run away and then looked thoughtfully at the child who was bleeding to death beside him in the alley. They’re scared of me, he thought, strangely exhilarated as never before by the unfamiliar feeling of power that surged through his body like a shot of Adrenaline. Freddy carried the bleeding boy to a deserted cellar and studied his figure for a long time. Children are useless, he thought, repeating a sentiment often heard muttered by the old man who raised him. Children are better off dead, he thought, improvising freely on the theme. He reached into his pocket and took out the straight razor he had taken from the old man’s closet before leaving home. Freddy roughly tore off the boy’s clothing and studied his smooth white belly for a moment. Then, recalling the four boys who escaped, Freddy cut four deep incisions into the boy’s flesh. He watched for a while as the blood spurted out, his face flushed with triumph. For the first time in his life, Freddy Krueger was in control. It was a feeling he did not want to live without ever again.

Freddy continued his nomadic existence until he decided to return to his birth city, Springwood. There was something about Springwood that instantly outraged him. Perhaps it was the well-cared-for lawns and lovely tree-lined streets that were so much more beautiful than anything he had even dreamed of as a child. Or perhaps it was the carefree children of Springwood so blissfully unaware of the suffering and anguish of the real world. Suddenly, Freddy knew his calling in life. He would teach these smug suburbanites and their children what the world was really all about. He would teach them the true meaning of pain.

Becoming a family man, the beginning of The Springwood Slasher

For the first time in his life, Freddy looked for a regular job, becoming the janitor of Springwood High School, where he will meet his future wife, Loretta. He fell madly in love with her, showing no more trace of darkness in his heart, and decided to marry her and move into a house with a large garden and had a daughter, Katherine. He then quit his job as a janitor and went to work at the local power plant as a technician in the boiler room. However, this tranquility, this perfect little family life was not going to last forever. Freddy felt the murderous impulse inside him again, the urge to make the parents of Springwood, once bullies , suffer by kidnapping their children and making them disappear in the cruelest way possible.

His job was easy enough, and it left Freddy with plenty of time to devote to his true calling. He soon decided that his old straight razor was insufficient to do the holy work that needed to be done. Freddy spent many hours in the machine shop, forging the deadly tool he would need to carry out his mission. Of course he would make excuses for Loretta, for example by explaining that he would be home later because he had too much work to do, or that his boss had offered him overtime to get a little more money. These were among the happiest hours of his life – designing and then building the special glove with its four deadly finger blades. Carefully, with a feeling akin to love, Freddy cut the gleaming metal, honing it to a fine, razor-sharp and then fitting the assembled apparatus into the fingerless leather glove. Then, when it was finally done, he took a deep breath and slipped the deadly talons onto his hand.

A perfect fit!

And now it was time to put his creation to the test.

The next day, Freddy slipped into his comfortable red and green sweater, donned his crumpled fedora, said to Loretta he was leaving early, climbed into the front seat of his battered Chevy van, and drove into town. Lovingly, he clicked the blades that gleamed so beautifully on his right hand and waited patiently in the alley adjacent to Springwood Elementary School. He felt his muscles tense with excitement as the bell rang, announcing the end of another school day. For that one brief moment, Freddy wondered if it might not be terribly wrong to interfere with the normal development of a child, to cut off at its very beginnings a human life of almost infinite possibilities and potentialities. Then he saw the children, laughing and skipping as they rushed into their parents’ loving arms, and Freddy knew what he had to do. There was a little girl standing at the curb not far from the alley. Perhaps her mother had had difficulty starting the car or maybe a long line at the supermarket had set her schedule back a few minutes. No matter. The little girl was very much alone, and Freddy felt a stirring deep in his wicked soul. Squinting into the sunlight, he read the name ‘Amy’ written in bright pink letters on the girl’s lunchbox. ‘Amy?’ he whispered, but the girl didn’t seem to hear him. ‘Amy,’ he repeated, a little louder this time. The girl looked at him with her large blue eyes. ‘Come here,’ he said, beckoning to the girl with his left hand. She looked away for a moment, glancing up the street as if expecting her mother to arrive at any moment. Then she looked back at Freddy, and he knew in that instant that he had won. ‘Come here,’ he repeated. The girl hesitated for only a moment and then stepped into the alley.

‘Who are you?’ she asked in a small, sweet voice that set Freddy’s teeth on edge.

‘Uncle Freddy,’ he replied, liking the sound of it. ‘Your mother said I should bring you home.’

The girl shook her head doubtfully. ‘I don’t have an Uncle Freddy,’ she said.

‘You do now,’ said Freddy, raising his right hand high into the air. Then he brought it down, his temples pound- ing as his left hand covered the child’s mouth and his right tore four deadly gashes in her soft belly. Freddy looked at the bloodied glove for a moment and felt joy deep in his soul. How easily the little one had died! He lifted the girl’s bloody body and carried it quickly to his parked van, feeling more alive than he had ever felt before. He stashed the body under some blankets in the back of the van and drove to the power plant. There he unloaded the body and hid it in a large unused storage locker in the back of the boiler room. Then he sat back and breathed deeply of the hot, stifling boiler room air that he had learned to love.

At last, Freddy’s life had meaning.

After that, Freddy found it easy to fulfill his self-proclaimed destiny. His methods of abduction varied, but the result was always the same. He loved to see the newspaper accounts of the kidnapping, but it troubled him that no one knew for certain whether the missing children were dead. He began leaving puddles of blood at the murder sites so that everyone would know that these were not mere kidnappings. It was important to him that the smug parents of Springwood know that their children were being carefully and methodically butchered. One day he decided to furnish the basement of his house with some of his creations, trophies (jars and newspaper articles) and had even made a book with pictures of his victims, some newspaper articles and some sordid details.

Being arrested, freed, then burned alive by vengeful parents

 As he was playing with Katherine in the garden, a scream sounded near the basement. He stopped dead in his tracks, his cold gaze fixed on Loretta, who was shaking and crying, begging him she won’t tell the police. Once he asked Katherine to go back into the house, an argument broke out and he strangled Loretta, not knowing that Katherine had witnessed the end of the scene. He asked her to promise not to tell. In 1966, Fred Krueger was arrested for the murder of his wife and was linked to the child murders, commited by The Springwood Slasher, the police having discovered charred bodies in the boiler room and his killing tools inside his basement. Katherine was then placed for adoption and changed her first and last names outside of Springwood. In 1968, he was brought to trial amid great publicity. Fortunately for Freddy, however, the public defender who handled the case was extremely thorough in his preparation. He examined the search warrant that had gained the police admittance to the power plant the day they arrested Freddy and found a technical error in the wording of the document. The search was ruled illegal, and the case against Freddy was thrown out of court. Despite public outcry, the Springwood Slasher was set free. Amanda Krueger, who heard about this, commited suicide. Again here he was again, like a tramp. No more house, no more family, no job. He has lost it all. Even his dear daughter he loved so much. The only person he really loved in his miserable life. He was so angry.

He decided it was time to move on. There would be other towns and other children. Next time, Freddy vowed, he would not be so easy to catch. That night, Freddy packed his meager belongings into the back of his van and settled in for one last night’s sleep before hitting the road. He had just settled into a cozy corner of the boiler room with a bottle of his favorite gin when he heard the commotion outside. The angry people of Springwood, led by Lt. Don Thompson and his wife Marge, had decided to take the law into their own hands. It was the Thompson’s and their Elm Street neighbors, the Lantzes, who poured the gasoline around the power plant; and it was the Grays and the Lanes who set the fuel afire. Never again would their children – Nancy, Glen, Tina, Rod, and all the others – be terrorized by the wicked Fred Krueger. They smiled grimly as the power plant began to burn, and someone in the mob applauded. Freddy was approached by Dream Demons. Krueger took the offer from Dream Demons to continue his killing spree. He was allowed to roam the Dream World, where any damage he inflicted would cause death in the physical world.

The body was never found.

‘I guess we’ve seen the last of Fred Krueger,’ said Marge Thompson that night, breathing a deep sigh of relief as she examined Freddy’s blood-caked finger-knives with a mixture of disgust and ill-concealed fascination.

But Marge was wrong.

Freddy would be back.

And the nightmare was just about to begin…

[wickedpact]

Crim pls do a J/N fic rec post at some point in the future I trust you more than I trust myself looking rouge through AO3

im kinda eh abt the concept of fic recs myself just bc the whole 'Different Strokes For Different Folks' thing (idk how many times someone i liked in a fandom made a fic rec list and i ended up not liking anything they posted). plus i have weirdly specific tastes and i.. .. honestly havent read a ton of joenicky fic! (i have a FAT to-read list) but ive been asked this a couple times now so i will slap together a couple joenicky fics i like (not comprehensive, i only spent like 15 minutes making this. also not in any particular order.)

Kiss Each Other Clean by moodlighting

i like this whole fic, but the last 6 or so paragraphs in particular SEND ME TO SPACE, i love cuddling. also [joe voice] nickel neekee

what you seek is seeking you by bankrobbery

i actually recced this one once before. idk its cute i just Like It. (also nicky pretending not to know english bc a customer is pissing him off is Very Funny and i love it)

with every inch of my heart by smilebackwards

i like this one a lot, i think nickys pov should Always be this tender. i dont like miscommunication trope much, (esp with joenicky) but i do like this fic-- the miscommunication in question is far-fetched but its joenicky so of course it is. just enjoy the Angst™

i love michelangelo seeing nicky all dirty and bloody after a fight and being like 'DAMN this bitch is fine' (same). (AND the fact that nicky only agrees to travel with him in the name of wasting the pope's money lmao). the fact that joe and nicky broke up But They Still Snuggle. nile knowing like 2 things about joe and nicky's breakup & pretty much immediately taking nicky's side. joe looking at the creation of adam and bein like 'EH'.

nicky carrying around his little joe drawing? nicky carrying around a spare toothbrush for booker? nicky telling little children stories about a princess locked in a coffin under the sea? ('perhaps someday, if an iron coffin is caught in a net or washed up onto the shore, they’ll remember the princess, a victim and not a monster' EXCUSE ME)

(also 'I have drawn you a thousand times since we parted. I sculpted your likeness, just so that I could pretend to cup your cheek. You are so much warmer than marble, hayati.' R O M A N C E)

Pas Un Ange by inlovewithnight

there are a lot of fics i love in a way thats like 'this fic is fun but it doesnt feel like something that would happen in the Actual Canon' (which is fine!) but this one Does feel like it could happen in The Actual Canon which is cool

this fic also has probably my favorite depiction of nicky's relationship with god/religion in any fic ive read ('[nicky's] peace had come only after walking away from faith as a competition of intensity in favor of faith as a steady compass that he followed like the beat of his heart in his chest.'). i love the whole Drama played out by the background characters and how they all have their own ideas and motivations & nicky is just kind of resigned to being caught in the middle of it.

(also love how near the beginning joe's like 'the Right thing to do in the situation would be stay at this river and help these people.... ... ....... ... .... ... anyways see ya guys later gotta go find nicky'.)

also joe chatting up a pig and the five minutes later chatting up some goats was so cute. & nicky trying to tell the baby's mother how to save it!!!! </3 AND THEY ARGUE ABOUT CHARITY on the way home (not before joe injects a comment abt nickys ass into regular conversation bc Romance™) its a bit of a sad fic tho, that poor baby 🥺

Intercession by PrincessDesire

can i interest you in some Swamp Man Nicky in this trying time?

someone recced this fic to me and i dont remember who. but note that the major character death tag is not, in fact, for a major character but for a background one. neither joe or nicky perma!die in this. also normally i dont like fics where joe or nicky are bi bc Thats Not Canon Babey but i do like this one, i love joe's relationship with Grace and how nicky's perception of that relationship gets flipped on its head halfway thru the fic. i also love joe's Weariness Of Immortality, like when joe talks about how 'youthful' nicky makes him feel. his pov just kind of Feels like an old man and i like it

theres a smut scene in this fic which im personally not big on smut scenes but theres this bit where joe tries to figure out condoms and its very cute. also 'You have many kinds of magic, Nicky. All your spells have worked.' ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

also i just like how WHIPPED joe is from like the first 3 seconds he sees nicky. theres one bit where nicky's like 'ill come visit you!' and joe's like 'when🥺' and nicky's like 'as soon as you like!' and joes like 'now?????🥺🥺🥺 literally come home with me???' incredible.

also the Magic System was cool. i also love how nicky just Accidentally made himself immortal. what a man. also i like this line 'it would never occur to [nicky] to attend any service that wasn’t going to have a direct outcome. Grace takes comfort from it, so maybe that’s the only outcome needed.' idk its so sweet

edit: also i cant believe i forgot the iconic line 'Yusuf is a man of two minds, one large and underutilized, the other small and underutilized.' absolutely iconic & relatable

[emersonfreepress]

I think you've said somewhere you'd be willing to explain your character creation process, and I'm so interested!! 👀 CiE is one of the IFs whose characters feel so ...full! (don't know how to explain 😫) in character asks. they're like, such real-people feeling?? even curt who you said was a late-ish addition. How do you do it? 😲

(for the character creation process specifically: I actually have an ask in my drafts from a while ago where I attempt to explain each character's inspiration, but it just... man, it was weird. Incoherent, really! But now that I've written this post, I think that post can actually make sense. I'll link to it here when it's up!)

I think what may have happened with my character creating is that I have rather deeply internalized two bits of writing advice 😅

"You can only be as interesting as you are." 😦

Now, honestly... I do not recommend this writing advice. 🤣🤣 It's just... the wording is so judgmental!! I've only ever heard it from one person: a professor in my Professional Writing major, the first week or so of college. I think most people struggle pretty hard with finding a sense of unique identity fresh out of high school, so hearing something like this in a creative major at a school full of out-of-state students is just so... 😂 it's a lot. I feel like it should be fairly obvious that it would shake people's confidence to an unproductive degree?? But I've never been sure of the guy's intent with it and I really liked him as a professor in general so idk i wonder what sign he was...

My weird little brain has never let go of those words and I mulled over and analyzed that idea for years. I am an interesting person by most standards (i wish i could be less confident about that statement but sadly my life story is A Whole Lot); but most importantly, to me. I interest myself! I'm very introspective and have always strived to understand myself and improve my self-awareness, even before I understood that's what I was doing. And all that mulling over eventually led me to the realization that no one is uninteresting.

I personally find it virtually impossible for someone to not be interesting. That doesn't mean I like everyone or want to be friends with the whole world far from that 😅 It's just that each of us is our own unique amalgam of backgrounds and traumas and regrets and identities and skill-sets and memories and circumstances—how could that not be an interesting cocktail every single time? even the most 'boring' or 'basic' person has the capacity to be interesting to me, just by virtue of having come into existence in the first place! i swear i can't figure out what kind of nerd i am but i am very specifically fascinated by we humans ok lol

"Write what you know" 🧐

Ok so... I must strive to know many things. 🤔 I should say yes to something new when I could convince myself to say no. Well, not for the sake of saying yes (I am not what anyone would call a thrill seeker lol), but "write what you know" is one of only a handful of things that helps me swallow down my anxieties, push my boundaries, and actually experience life. There are plenty of times depression kept me pinned to my bed for weeks or months on end and the only thing that got me to say yes to doing something good for myself was "write what you know." The itching, niggling feeling that I was letting my mental illness fuck with my growth as a writer. And hey. It might ruin my finances, my relationships, and my emotional stability, but the one thing it cannot have is my writing skill. I already know depression and malaise—how about I say yes to that group outing instead tonight. Why don't I go find something new to know?

And negative experiences? Illness, trauma, despair, tragedy? Well... at least I know it now.

I'm not sure when exactly "Well, at least I'll be able to write this someday" became a way to console myself at my lowest points in life, but it really, really has 😂 I'm happy to say I don't rely on that anymore, but it has undeniably helped me pull through some of my darkest depressions. It helps calm me when I'm in uncomfortable situations. It helped me through chemo!

There's two things that keep me going in life like nothing else: The factual probability that I will be fine enough to keep truckin' on the other side of what I'm going through, and the thinnest silver lining that I will now have another human experience I can write.

- ⨀ -

So anyway—these mindsets are like... the two biggest backdrops to my imagination, I think. Especially when it comes to creating and writing characters. I have terrible episodic memory but I swear I've got this like, intuitive database of every person I've interacted with. I don't always succeed in interpreting/reading others; no one does. But I have such an intense interest in human behavior, personalities, and reactions that I rarely forget someone's... impression, I guess. That just... natural understanding of how someone who believes X and reacts like Y can be expected to behave like Z, or what have you. And I think I get better at correctly recalling and interpreting human behavior as I get older. now if only I could remember where I put my glasses

It's weird! And even weirder to try to explain! I've never put this stuff into words before 😂😂 I don't even know if this all makes sense or if I sound like some pretentious windbag, but—it's as much of an answer I can give for now!

[losing-victor]

I'm so lazy to actually write this but imagine like this Solangelo AU where Cecil drags Will to this bar to pick up "sugar daddies" or basically rich people because they're desperate??

They're not gonna do anything explicit just plain stupid. Will is like, an undergrad med student and has pretty high grades, he just doesn't have much money for food and shit so yeah, they get desperate.

But then Will gets guilty, because "man I can't use people for money" and then he runs out, leaving Cecil because he lost him somewhere in the crowd or something wtvr.

And then enter Nico Di Angelo.

Nico knows the kind of persons that enter a bar and look like they barely had any nutrition in their body except instant noodles (which was rich coming from him, but that's because he actually chooses to eat unhealthily) — so basically, college students.

He's not one to judge really, if he did, he wouldn't have met Reyna. Reyna was one of those kind and her reason? Got kicked out simply because she liked a girl. Nico knew upon background check that her family was wealthy, so he approached her and struck a deal.

They found friendship and Reyna found her freedom and stability. To this day, even without his help, she and him are great friends.

But he finds no use to go back to this place again, until of course—

"Somehow," Reyna had once said, "You have a knack for running into good people,"

"So are you saying I should go back to the bar," He deadpans.

"Well, I didn't say a specific location," Reyna says amused.

"You're the only person I actually met and got to know, the others forced their way into my life." Nico rolls his eyes when he hears a shout from the distance.

And so, inevitably, that conversation led to him here. He hung back, not actively looking. Nico's starting to think it's a bad idea. But just when he's starting to head out, a blond guy barrels straight into him.

He scowls in reflex, the guy looks at him with horror and his features make him look as if he just kicked a puppy. His scowl deepens as he grunts,

"I'm fine," He waves a hand,

"Oh my gods, I'm so sorry," Blue eyes flickered down to his side, as if assessing his state. "Are you okay?"

(It was either that or he was checking Nico's worth, and trust him, he didn't make an active effort either to look rich.)

Nico straightens his stance and quirks an eyebrow, "Are you okay?" For good measure, he look behind the boy to see if there was a creepy guy chasing after him (Nico has seen it too many times to happen, and frankly, it was disgusting.)

The blond chuckled, laughing nervously as he scratches the back of his nape, "I'm fine, just looking for an easier way out."

"You found someone already?" Nico is intrigued, it's not everyday that a college student already finds someone willing finance him this early into the evening.

Usually it takes more alcohol to pursuade the other men.

But then again, the blond was...okay-looking. And okay, his fashion sense might as well be worse as Nico's with a flannel thrown over a shirt and khaki shorts worn to a bar but his features could pass for a god. (And the eyes—)For some reason, that thought made him flush.

"Er, not exactly," Blue, they're not ocean blue nor sky blue like Jason's or Thalia's but they're blue like–like gems, Topaz to be exact. "I went in here confident," The blond cringed at that and continued, "And came out guilty." Sighing, "As desperate as I am, money–it's money." He gestures vaguely with his hands.

"I'm not sure I follow." Nico thinks that if someone has more than they need, it wouldn't hurt to give help.

Sighing again, the other boy smiles, "I suppose you wouldn't, you're still here I mean." Blond cocks his head, "So, you found anyone yet?"

Nico is stunned.

Blond thinks he's a college student. Reyna would laugh at him if she heard this story. Well okay, he is a college student but isn't here for the same reasons as this guy.

He's not broke.

"Sorry," The other apologizes for some reason Nico can't figure out. "You're not obligated to answer. Anyway, uh, I'm gonna run?"

"And eat at a convenience store?" Nico can't help but quip.

Blond laughs, "Yeah, probably."

"You're passing up an opportunity to go out and eat in a 5-star restaurant you know."

Nico watches the guy faux think, crossing his arms dramatically as he nods, "Yeah I think I could handle that, could you?"

There was a pause.

The other's blue eyes widened as if he was on a brink of panic reassurance.

"That's not what I meant–you must have your reasons for coming here and I'm not gonna take the opportunity away—

Nico lets out a long insufferable sigh which shuts up the blond. He gives him a look. He turns and calls out,

"Come on, sunshine."

For some reason, he feels as if the blond was grinning behind him, positively beaming as they went to eat MSG at a dingy 7-11.

"I'm Will, by the way."

"Nico," He doesn't notice his own smile.

(His blond hair wasn't that of the color of hay or sand. Not like Jason or that asshole Octavian, another boy born into a rich legacy. This guy's hair was bright, but not enough to rival his smile. His hair looked a little platinum, but still blonde if you looked hard enough. It was like the sun.)

So yeah Will looking for a sugar daddy, finds a Nico instead who he thinks is a broke college student as well and they eat at 711, his treat (his wallet cries) just because he feels the need to take care of the other and because he's inherently good like that. Nico is so fucking amused that he tries to drop subtle hints for Will to pick up on as they progress into friendship but the boy never gets it. Someday, he does reveal it and then like Will finds out about Reyna (cue angst and misunderstandings). A tired Nico tries to subtly drop hints also that he likes Will but Will never gets it. Nico doesn't have the courage to say it, not yet and then HE finds out the actual reason for the need for money (Will is one year away from graduating, works himself to the bones and Nico just—never knew, and the blond thinks of dropping out.) Nico was like NOPE, and this is fucking slowburn. I will never write this but you will pry this plot from my cold and dead hands.

Edit: If I do write this would it be worth it KAJSHDHABHDJAAJJAM?!?@,@?@MAJDJAKAKSKSKSKSKSKSKAKAKSKA

Edit #2: IM WRITING IT AND ILL TAG EVERYONE WHO WANTS TO BE TAGGED WHEN I DO POST IT!! JUST LMK

[sintreaties]

Fic prompt where sayaka accidentally kills somebody in school and she realizes she finally finds thrill in doing something and that something is killing

(And she becomes a serial killer)

I feel like that would be kinda dark but I think for some reason it would fit strangely?

If you want to write gore and violence for gore and violence’s sake, I’ll spare you the time and say to just write it and have fun. If you want to see how I’d go about it and get a glimpse of my creative process, I do advise reading this answer.

For starters, I believe that a good thing to keep in mind when writing any kind of story is that every good character needs a motive and a goal. Having badly written characters will inevitably cause you to end up with a weak narrative — and thus with a mediocre story. Let’s start with that then.

As introspection makes up for like 40% of my narrative voice, I personally like my characters to be as human and realistic as possible.

Killing isn’t an easy act no matter how you look at it. What are the (human, realistic) causes that would lead a person to such a thing? Figure this out first. This will be the motive, the beginning, the accident that sets the whole story in motion.

Then figure out what the character wants to achieve with all the killing. That will be their goal. You should see the goal as the light at the end of the tunnel: your character might or might not see it in the end, but it has to be there for your story to work. Even having no goal is a goal in itself, because in most cases, the goal becomes finding something to achieve.

Together, motive and goal will keep the story going.

If you want to go the extremely realistic way, remember that in the vast majority of cases, serial killers irl come from a very tragic background, leading, in most if not all cases, to serious mental illnesses. People don’t just wake up someday and decide to commit atrocities like this. Something in their life went tragically wrong and they don’t know how to fix it. You will need to research this. Make sure you have the stomach and the tact for it.

If you’re not interested in that route (and I know I wouldn’t be), use Sayaka’s canon character as a base. This will make the character more solid overall, but if you’re worried about writing her OOC, it might take away some of your creative freedom.

You said that Sayaka would keep killing because she’d finally find something that gives her a thrill. This seems like a weak motive and a bad goal because 1) It doesn’t seem coherent with Sayaka’s character, 2) Sayaka already knows where to find that thrill. She finds it in Kirari — in being her “number one”. Sayaka was literally willing to cause Yumeko’s death at the Tower of Doors to be able to be with Kirari.

So. Canonically, here’s your motive: Sayaka kills for Kirari’s sake. People don’t just enjoy killing other human beings — not without serious mental issues at least. That’s also why I’d avoid using the “thrill” as a motive.

If all, you can mix it to the goal: killing for Kirari gives Sayaka some power in their relationship. It makes her feel like she’s worth something, she auto-convinces herself that she’s a guardian, that without her crimes Kirari would be in real danger. This gives her the thrill. Kirari herself might or might not be unable to stop her (and this could be a conflict, to make your narrative more interesting).

So, why does Sayaka starts killing? Like in the ToD, the first accidental killing is somehow connected to Kirari.

Why does Sayaka keep killing, although killing is a Very Bad Thing and you shouldn’t do it? Because a twisted, sick part of her realizes that, if she kills everyone that threatens Kirari and their relationship, they can be happy together. Sayaka can be Kirari’s number one then. You don’t have to worry about being a number two if literally everybody else is dead. Perhaps it ends up escalating. That messes Sayaka up so much that she has to live through delusions, or else she won’t be able to live with what she’s done. (Consider this as a second conflict).

Which brings us to what we can call the archetype of the story: the Sayaka we created isn’t original. Anime, games and manga and filled with yandere girls.

I used to be very much against this kind of cliché and tropes, but guess what? If you give your readers something that they already know (an archetype) there’s a higher chance that they might enjoy it, because familiarity will ease them more into the narrative. Consequently, you’ll have more chances of growing your audience — which it’s something that a writer, any writer, would want to keep in consideration.

This is just an idea. The main flaw that I see in it is that, like for most yandere characters, Sayaka’s character practically gets reduced to being a love interest and nothing more. So, I’d take just a peek at the extremely realistic way of creating a serial killer: Sayaka’s childhood was hard. Being bullied and isolated at school fucked her up more than she realized. Becoming Kirari’s number one for Sayaka actually means affirming that she is a person, that she finally wants to live and be happy. Even if that means harming others.

No matter if you agree or not with my idea, I do suggest keeping these things in mind: your character is a conglomerate of motive, goal and internal conflicts (killing is bad — it’s okay to kill for Kirari/ It’s not about Kirari, it’s actually about how I choose to achieve my own happiness). Use the conflict that these characteristics create to give depth to your story.

I know that this was extremely long and detailed. I did say I’m obsessed with writing. It’s like playing chess for me: I look at the board and I absolutely adore figuring out all the moves before actually touching the pieces.

Answering was fun for me, but I hope it ended up being useful for you lmao.

[markynaz]

7/26

Belief / Dragons Written for @tes-summer-fest 2021 Wordcount: 3146 Content Warning: slight emotional abuse mentions, as appropriate when discussing Bastian Hallix's upbringing AO3 Mirror: here

“And who’s your favorite Divine?”

It was a common question for children in Daggerfall, usually asked in lieu of the small talk one would make with adults. It wasn't exactly proper to ask a child - no matter how well bred - about court gossip, or the price of bolts of Redguard cloth, or the war news that was on everyone else's lips. And it was unspeakably gauche to ask a child about their parents or family. A society as full of intrigue and gossip as the Bretons cultivated couldn’t stand for a child’s truth in any answer. No well-bred Breton of any variety would even think to put a child in the place of guarding family secrets.

So, inoffensive questions it was, and Bastian Hallix, ward of the influential Silvelles, had grown quite sick of them all by the time he was old enough to hide his annoyance.

The one about the Eight Divines was perhaps his least favorite. The easy answer was Julianos, protector of mages, but admitting it would mean admitting his magical aptitude - something the Silvelles were loathe to have Bastian say in company for reasons of their own. Barring that, it would have been easiest to make up a stock answer and stick with it, but lying never sat right with Bastian.

He was thinking about this instead of listening to the priest one Sundas afternoon. They sat - him, Quistley, and the Lord and Lady Silvelle - on the cushioned pews in King Emeric’s chapel, the sun glittering in through the stained glass windows and setting every piece of pristine silver or gold in the place glittering. Large statement jewelry was in fashion that summer. It was a fad from Cyrodil, according to Bastian’s tutors, and the concave silver brooch on Lady Silvelle’s breast was reflecting sunlight right into Bastian’s eye. He looked up to avoid the glare and examined the artful stained glass windows of the Divines while the priest started another prayer for the war effort.

Mara, goddess of love, was the first his eye fell on. Bastian stopped himself from making a face. He remembered, very faintly, thinking she was pretty at one time - remembered her being his favorite Divine when he was very, very young. Every artist put such an expression of goodness in her countenance that her face was always the first Bastian looked for. But… it was hard to believe in Mara, knowing what he knew of marriage from Lord and Lady Silvelle. Knowing what he knew of love from them, and from his brother, Quistley.

A priest had once told Bastian that Mara’s love was unconditional. Bastian didn’t think there was such a thing, but he supposed if there wasn't, Mara wouldn't still be watching over the world.

Her gentle face made him sad. He shifted his gaze.

Arkay, god of death and cycles. His sphere sounded more serious than the stained glass looked. He had one hand raised, and a kindly expression, so much that Bastian could almost forget or ignore the dead wolf at his feet and the graves filling the background of the picture.

When he'd been particularly angry with Quistley once - actually lost his temper on his foster brother, an incident that made his ears burn with shame to recall - he'd been quietly pulled aside, still fuming, by a priestess of Arkay who’d seen the whole of the confrontation. Quistley had run off to his parents, Bastian assumed to tell them how he'd behaved, and he was in no hurry to follow. Going with the priestess to calm down was by far the most agreeable option.

She'd had him hold the holy oil she was using to bless unmarked graves of paupers and disgraced women and men in the back alleys of Wayrest, talking softly to him in between murmuring prayers to her Divine. Cycles showed in life as well as death, she'd said. Bastian might have been angry with Quistley then, but one day Quistley would be angry with him, and he should always try to model the behavior he'd like shown to him in the next cycle. And - because she was a priestess of Arkay - she had added, one of them would very likely outlive the other. A life spent in cycles of rage was one the survivor was very likely to regret.

It had made sense to Bastian once he'd calmed enough to hear words. He'd returned to Lord and Lady Silvelle resigned to whatever punishment they'd assign him, and hoping to be a better brother and foster son going forward.

And then he'd found out, upon returning, that Quistley hadn't said a word to his parents, and was going to use Bastian’s fit of temper to blackmail him into doing favors for the next half year.

Bastian was fairly sure Arkay would never be his favorite Divine. Quistley shifted in his seat next to him, and in a burst of irritation, Bastian realized he was blatantly asleep in chapel.

He set his jaw and cast his gaze to the other row of stained glass.

Dibella, goddess of beauty. Her form was pleasing enough, but it held nothing for Bastian’s eyes. He could do little more than admire the artwork - for artists tended to be closer devoted to Dibella than any other Divine, and most would jump at the chance to depict her in their ideal of beauty.

Last year, Bastian had seen an artist depict Dibella in a male form for the first time in his recollection. He finally understood what had Quistley and his friends so enamored with the sculptures, stained glasses, and art pieces. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from the perfect musculature- the long hair flowing over defined back muscles - the chiseled features with just a hint of facial hair - the eyes, glimmering with intent behind his courtly Breton facade-

His ears were burning for a different reason, thinking about it.

The Silvelles hadn't cared one way or the other when his preferences were revealed. Bastian thought he even detected a hint of relief in Lady Silvelle’s voice, and thought - though it shamed him to think so meanly - it might be from the lowered likelihood of Bastian fathering children someday. It would mean fewer Hallixes for them to connect themselves with.

Not that he would force them to, if that ever came to pass. He knew his place.

Stendarr, god of justice and mercy. Bastian hadn't connected the cup on his altar to the object held in his hand for an embarrassing number of years. In his defense, the artist who’d rendered it in the Silvelles’ home chapel had either painted it very ill indeed, or it had been later ruined by some splash of ink.

The Redguard training master who’d been brought in to tutor Bastian and Quistley on the art of conflict swore to Stendarr sometimes, when he was mildly displeased. When he was really angry, he would revert to the Redguard pantheon. Bastian rarely heard that directed at him. More often, if he wasn't performing to standards, the wiry old man would heave a great sigh and say, “Young Bastian. One day, you'll either be delivering Stendarr’s justice, or begging his mercy at the other end of the sword. Which will it be today?”

He could almost hear it in the training master’s voice, really. Once Tutor Thierren told him about about Bastian’s aptitude for magic, he'd set to training him with a staff as well as a blade - setting up obstacle courses to get through with a weighted stave in hand, sessions where he'd give Bastian a staff with an iron core and come at him with a sword. It was always better to be on the correct side of Stendarr’s hand, and if his magicka was depleted, he needed to be able to survive and get away.

Bastian flattered himself that Thierren saw more in his future than court etiquette and uncomfortable questions answered by half-truths that made him burn inside. He was nearly seventeen now, almost a man grown. Lord Silvelle had been hinting recently that it might be time for Bastian to look after the family's interests without such a stern hand guiding him, and Bastian relished the thought.

Kynareth, goddess of the wilds and the winds. Bastian had named her as his favorite several times in response to the condescension of noble adults. Lord Silvelle’s comments that Bastian might start beginning to pay the Silvelles back for his excellent education and shelter by looking after their interests in other parts of High Rock were starting to seem more appealing the longer Bastian thought about it. Being blown about by Kynareth’s winds, seeing more of both civilization and the wilds…. It sent a little thrill through him. Being out from under the Silvelle’s roof was scarcely less exciting.

But if he kept daydreaming in that line, he knew he’d grow quite insensible to the speeches of the priest. That wouldn’t do if anyone asked him about it later. Reluctantly, he shifted his gaze.

The stained glass at the front of the chapel was the grandest of all. Akatosh, the One, head of the pantheon. Bastian could appreciate the artistry in the massive stained glass, tracing with his eye how every sliver fit so perfectly into the illusion of glittering dragon scales. Most recently he'd been reading about how Akatosh,, in some manner or another, appeared in almost every pantheon across Tamriel. He'd had an animated discussion with Quistley’s tutor about it, which saved him from the more awkward conversation on why he had been caught doing Quistley’s assignments.

But unlike some of the other stained glasses, Bastian felt nothing in his heart when he looked at the image of Akatosh. After a moment of consideration, the only thing coming up seemed to be a slick, greasy guilt at not feeling anything greater.

The other Divines had expressive human faces to feel things about, he tried to rationalize to himself. And usually, it was older Bretons who took amulets of Akatosh as their personal guide, kept close to the heart. Perhaps one day he'd feel what he ought to for such an important figure. For now, he averted his eyes almost as quickly as he had looked away from Mara.

Next to him, Quistley half-snored. Bastian quickly jabbed an elbow into his ribs to keep him quiet. Quistley shifted and jabbed him back, catching Bastian in the side with not just his elbow, but the sharp, hard bit of statement jewelry on his wrist down and catching Bastian’s hip.

Bastian bit his lip to stop any sound of pain.

The bubble of resentment that burst in his throat was startling in his vehemence. This wasn't fair. If Quistley was caught sleeping in chapel, Bastian would be scolded along with him - chastised for not keeping his foster brother attentive and polite. Even when Quistley got himself into deserved trouble, he always seemed to drag Bastian down with him until they were both flailing, covered in shame, neither looking good.

No. No. He was getting angry. He couldn't. Bastian took a deep breath, exhaled as quietly as he could through parted lips, and then, catching Lord Silvelle’s head begin to turn toward him, tucked his chin and closed his eyes as if in prayer. He stayed that way until he felt his face was under control.

When he lifted his gaze again, it fell on Zenithar. Bastian examined his wizened face, how the artist had used space between the glass pieces to give the impression of lines.

Zenithar, god of fair work and commerce. Maybe one day Quistley would get his just desserts, Bastian thought with sudden savageness, and just as quickly reeled in and tempered those thoughts. No. No, Quistley didn't deserve any such thing, and in any case, he would never be allowed to fail. Anyone with the Silvelle name couldn't be allowed to show proof of family weakness.

So, perhaps, one day he would step up and be the son his parents so wished him to be. That was a much more charitable thought fo fix on, and Bastian set himself on it with the same ferocity which a deer rubbing the velvet off his antlers might set himself on a tree.

Yes. It would be so much better if Quistley would stop grieving his parents. If he would pull his weight, step up to the responsibility of being the Silvelles’ heir. Divines knew there was enough to manage and look after, from what Bastian had been able to find out. There was certainly enough of an opportunity for Quistley to earn the life he seemed to want to live.

He didn't realize until several minutes had passed in this fashion that his hand had slipped into his pocket, seeking and finding the small medallion of Julianos that he wore on a chain connected to his belt whenever he could. His fingers had fallen into the familiar habit of tracing the sharp edges of the triangle, one, two, three, four, and then twice more in that fashion before the count matched up again with the point where he'd started. The counting, the rhythm, soothed him, even enough to ignore that Quistley had slipped back into even breathing and slumber in the pew beside him.

Still tracing the edges of his amulet, his eyes lifted to the stained glass of his own protector, Julianos.

~~|\|~~

Ten years later, in the same chapel, Bastian traced the now-worn edges of the medallion as he glanced over the stained glass windows.

This time, he wasn't in King Emeric’s chapel on the good will of the Silvelles. No; those days were long past, and Bastian was learning to look on their passing with more and more relief.

The windows weren't as grand as he'd remembered them in his childhood memory. He supposed after the better part of a decade spent traveling Tamriel, seeing the wonders of the continent, it was no surprise that fading pieces of art in a Breton king's chapel would carry less mysticism. Still, something in his heart throbbed at the loss. There was just a little less beauty in the world now that he saw the images for just images, and not stand-ins for his belief in the Divines.

And yet….

Still tracing the edges of Julianos’ symbol with the pad of his thumb, Bastian looked to his companion.

Arcturus Crane. Adopted son of noble merchant lord Earl Crane, and adopted in a sense of the word that had made Bastian nearly gasp with alarm the first time he'd heard them talk to each other with frankness bordering on insouciance. Arcturus Crane, who had helped him drag Quistley out of trouble twice without complaint, who was now speaking so casually with the priest of High King Emeric’s chapel in an effort to find out the date and particulars of a certain Clairene Auzin’s marriage.

Bastian kept his focus on Arcturus’ animated hands - he always gestured so much when he talked, a habit stopped only when one hand was curled around the heavy haft of a stave - and tried to keep his breathing steady. His pulse didn't sound steady in his ears. He pressed the tip of his index finger into a worn point of the triangle on his medallion with quickly increasing pressure until he could almost feel an edge.

It might be most natural for his eye to fall on Julianos, abusing the Divine’s symbol in nervousness as he was, but instead he found his gaze on Mara instead. Mara, who had never been a Divine he understood, flowing hair and expression of kindness and warmth.

Unconditional love.

In untangling what, exactly, he felt about things the Silvelles had told him to feel a certain way about - not least of all their own actions - Bastian was starting to think he might have misjudged Mara’s sphere. Unconditional love.

The Silvelles loved Quistley unconditionally, not that he could justify that. He'd spent decades trying. Lord Crane, in contrast, didn’t treat Arcturus like the Silvelles coddled Quistley. He seemed to hold something a great deal like respect for his adopted son. Perhaps not love - he didn't act like there was any sort of paternal feeling there, and Arcturus didn't bother to affect a child's adoration - but there was still…. Something. Something Bastian couldn’t quite put a name to.

And in Arcturus’ own behavior to him. The way he grinned when Bastian got excited over a scrying eye or a new bit of magic, his instant expression of chagrin when his twisting path of shadows caught an innocent mouse and Bastian couldn't bite back his disappointment in time. Bastian had lain awake several nights chastising himself over the outburst, but… now, thinking about it, Arcturus had been rather more careful about how he placed his traps and barriers and magical effects.

Unconditional love was Mara’s sphere. He’d never understood.

Perhaps, Bastian thought, it was less of love, and more of…. trust. A trust baseless enough to be belief, that the other person would do as you expected. And a fondness strong enough to stay steady even if that belief was proved wrong.

His sister. Bastian had no expectations of her, but in the few short weeks he'd known her to be alive… he’d begun to hope. Could she harbor the same feelings for him?

Could she believe in him like he wanted to believe in her?

Bastian released his medallion of Julianos, letting it drop at the end of its short chain back into his pocket as he stood straight. There was no way to find out except by finding out. Arcturus was turning from the priest, and from the look in his bright blue eyes, he didn't come away empty-handed.

The shock of fear that struck Bastian at the thought wasn't a surprise. Rather, he was surprised at how quickly it passed.

Why should I be scared? I won't be alone for this, he told himself, and the thought was quickly chased by, I trust him to stand by me through whatever happens.

Belief. Trust. He still shied away from the word ‘love,’ but….

Perhaps. Perhaps, in time. For now, as Arcturus strolled back to him and flashed a crooked smile (intended to put him at ease, he realized, when normally it was him scrambling to make others easy) and offered a sardonic comment in the way of letting Bastian know they had a lead, the belief in his good will was quite enough to stop the fear from freezing Bastian dead.

He walked out of High King Emeric’s chapel. He held the door for Arcturus, stepped into the bright midday sun, the sounds of Wayrest muted beyond the mage-protected castle wall. He stood there and waited for his eyes to adjust, and hoped - wished - believed, that the end of this road might finally be in sight.

[official-wayward-keener]

Parkner Bingo Card - Quarantine feat Morgan Stark

To Forgetting to Mute and Love Advice

Morgan is in virtual class while crushing on a friend. Luckily Peter and Harley are staying with her. 

Ao3 Link here

Morgan Stark was an interesting student. Everyone knew that. She had a lot to say and she was really smart. She was a lot like her father, Tony Stark. She had way too many ideas. Her teacher was used to her talking on and on about whatever she was working on. Her classmates didn’t know what to think of the daughter of a dead superhero. Madalyn told her what her classmates said. She knew what they talked about. She was now under quarantine because the whole world was in panic because of some illness and she was in class watching along with her class when it happened. Peter and Harley were staying with Morgan and Pepper during Quarantine because Harley was taking over SI and Peter was taking a break from fighting crime since he didn’t know how his mutation would react to the virus and he rather did not know if he could avoid it. She hadn’t thought about how they might show up in one of the videos. Actually it was Mayday, their daughter who was running in the background. Madalyn was watching as she saw Peter Parker-Keener run behind Morgan before grabbing a two year old who was giggling. Peter seemed to realize he was caught and hurried away as Morgan missed everything that happened behind her. Her classmates were confused by what happened but chalked it up to some weird animation. Morgan wouldn’t be living with a known avenger. Especially with social distancing happening.

~

The next time it happened it was Pepper and Harley who walked behind her as she was answering a question. The conversation was light but words like Mayday and nap time could be heard. Now the class was interested in what was going on but the teacher wasn’t going to let them ask Morgan. So the class was going to have to use the morning before class started to ask her. 

~

Morgan always got on first thing in the morning. Except the morning after Harley and Pepper walked behind her in the morning. She got on right on time and she was talking with someone and had forgotten to mute. The teacher was about to say something when they all heard the other voice.

“Look Morgan, you can’t mess with the web shooters.” The class all watched as Morgan complained that she could make them better. Peter muttered something about being just like her father. Maybe she was just like her father. Her classmates hadn’t met him but they heard the rumors.

“Just because I’m smart and rich doesn’t mean I’m just like dad,” Morgan said.

“Always want to make things better for others. Sounds like Tony,” Peter mocked her. She rolled her eyes.

“Umm.. Miss. Stark… Can you mute yourself?” Her teacher finally asked. Morgan turned to realize that not only was her camera on and that she had entered the call but her microphone was on for once. She apologized and put herself on mute as she shooed Peter away so she could pay attention in class. The rest of the class was boring but everyone was now interested in what was happening at the Stark household. 

~

Morgan Stark got on before class started and was sitting there looking over the reading when James decided to ask her about why Peter and Harley Parker-Keener were living with her. She seemed shocked before she explained that her brothers, and yes she used the word brother which surprised Madalyn, were staying with her and her mom during quarantine since Peter was taking a break and Harley was working with her mom. The family of three had moved in during quarantine though they already had rooms there but her classmates didn’t need to know.

“What is it like knowing Spider-Man and Harley Parker-Keener?” Branden asked her.

“They are pretty normal,” Morgan said.

“They are both H-O-T,” Kenzie said. Morgan looked at her disgusted by the comment.

“Those are my older brothers who are married, might I add,” Morgan reminded Kenzie. 

“Whose the little girl?” Georgia asked.

“Oh that is my niece Mayday. She is two years old and she is a handful. I have to watch her from time to time but it's cool. I enjoy it,” Morgan told them. As if on cue Mayday appeared and asked to sit in Morgan’s lap. Morgan let her as the little toddler cooed at the screen. The teens all awed and talked to Mayday until the teacher showed up. Then everyone muted as the teacher began their lecture. 

~

Mayday began to make more appearances as Morgan would hold her until Peter or Harley showed up. Occasionally Rhodey and Pepper would get her or Happy and May, but normally it was one of her dads. She seemed to smile at the kids as she loved the attention.

“I hope we never go back to in person class,” Madalyn told Morgan when they were on call. Morgan was surprised by that. 

“I figured you would want us to be back sooner,” Morgan said, sounding upset. Madalyn was surprised.

“Why?” Madalyn said.

“Hard to flirt with me or give me your little present if we are on the phone,” Morgan pointed out.

“I can flirt just fine on the phone, but not seeing your pink cheeks does make it harder to know how much it is working,” Madalyn admitted. Morgan ended the call not long after that groaning.

“What’s up?” Peter asked. He happened to be passing her room.

“How did you tell Harley that you were into him?” Morgan asked.

“You mean how did I tell the guy I’m married to that I like him like him,” Peter said. Morgan nodded. “I accidentally told him while on painkillers after having a pole go through me.”

“You are kidding,” Morgan said.

“Nope,” Peter said. “You know who would be the best person to ask.” Morgan didn’t. “Harley because I didn’t remember telling him and he told me the next day that he liked me.” Morgan nodded as she went to go find Harley. Peter sent a heads up text to his husband before letting Pepper know she might want to give Morgan the talk soon.

~

Harley was in the lab. Sometimes he would go down there just to get away but today he seemed to actually be working on a project.

“I have a question,” Morgan said.

“I might have an answer,” Harley told her.

“How did you tell Peter that you liked him and liked him,” Morgan asked.

“Well Peter had told me sort of but I was planning to ask him out. It was kinda the nudge so the next day he was actually awake with no memory of what he told me and I sat down grabbed his hand and asked him what he thought of going out with me. Then we went out the next week,” Harley told her.

“How do you go out while quarantined?” Morgan asked.

“Maybe do a skype date,” Harley suggested. Morgan nodded, hugging Harley before running off to call Madalyn. Peter slipped down as he went behind his husband wrapping his arms around him.

“You know Mayday will be asking those questions someday,” Peter said.

“Don’t remind me,” Harley whined. “I’m not ready to scare off people who want to date my little girl.” Peter laughed as he kissed Harley’s cheek.

“Pepper is already telling Rhodey and trying to figure out who Morgan will be asking out. I give her five days to guess Madalyn with how close they are,” Peter said.

“One day and if I win you will do what I say for a day,” Harley said.

“You are so on Parker,” Peter told him before moving away, sending him a kiss as he left. Harley just smiled thinking about how their little sister had gotten so much older from back when he first met her. He couldn’t imagine Mayday as a teen, but hopefully she wouldn’t grow up too fast on him and Peter. For now he had a sister who was about to go on her first date even if it was virtual because of quarantine.