#Like the two halves of a whole just starts HITTING man

[jorvikzelda]

This is apropos of absolutely nothing but can we all take a moment for this Aideen concept from the 2023 roadmap update because I think about it at least twice a week

[leonenjoyer69]

The sillies :3 and the both colored and not bc I really really like the sketch for this one :3 my old emo playlist has recently creeped back into my life and ofc Migraine by Tøp hits me with this wonderful idea. Also, fun fact, the physical drawing was originally just supposed to be a concept doodle that I was gonna redraw on a different paper but I uh, got carried away..

Anyways!!! Little info dump below the cut on the relationship between the 3 of them bc @dustmint asked about it and I thought I'd share my response here too, teehee

OKAY, SO, HOW JEKYLL AND HYDE ACT TOWARDS HARRY:

I do firmly believe that Hyde fights Harry more Aggressively and outright, on board to do whatever it takes to get rid of him (or at least out of control) , while Jekyll took a bit more convincing (mostly once he was done freaking out over the fact that he's a fraction of a person just like Hyde is). He definitely also hates Harry, but in a more subtle, silent way >:3 instead sorta challenging Harry mentally as opposed to physically, like Hyde wishes to. He's generally more observant and tries to strike when he thinks it best, sometimes his emotions get the best of him tho.

MORE IN DEPTH:

So, once they figure out what/who Harry is from his lil journals in the mind scape, Jekyll may or may not have an identity crisis (he definitely does) but once he kinda gets through that he just feels bad for Harry, being locked away in the mind scape so long and dealing with everything there and such. Plus, Harry is seemingly their whole parts (their previously whole parts, at the least), so Jekyll certainly doesn't want him to die or anything. Hyde doesn't really feel too strongly about him right off the bat, more so just annoyed that Harry took control and now he's stuck in the mind scape with Jekyll.

Though!! Things change once Harry kinda shows his resentment towards the two, saying that he wouldn't be letting them out anytime soon, and revealing how he plans to reverse the potion. This immediately sends Hyde into feral dog mode, trying to use literally everything he can to absolutely break Harry and gain control back. Jekyll is still a bit reluctant for a while, but eventually starts siding more with Hyde, plotting how to gain control back or take care of Harry without killing all of them, bc ofc they don't wanna die.

But yeah, between sending out nightmares, forcing the heart palpitations and such by fighting, or just being a general nuisance (most all of which are usually by Hyde) it's not really surprising that the resentment Harry already had towards them grows lmao.

He does eventually find out that those little phantom strings he can still see around his wrists and such can kinda be used to vaguely control/subdue his other halves. Yeah, he threatens them a lot.

Also!!! Jekyll and Hyde start getting along better, but definitely still bicker and shit occasionally (which tends to piss Harry off a bit, since he's been so fed up with their fighting and refusing to be one for so long, it just ticks him off very easily). Jekyll also feels really jealous of Harry bc of how he seems to be able to fix things so easily (and his blooming relationship with Lanyon ofc)

Anyways!! That's all I got for now lmao. Lots of character development for Harry lately. Man, I really need to start doing stuff with Elias again 💀

Oh also here's a colored version where they're not ghostly:

[sharkie-fandom-scribbles]

Toji Fushiguro was a killer. Cold, calculating, and capable. He receives his orders and carries out the job with the brutality of a butcher while possessing all the lethal grace of a surgeon in the same twist of his blade. He has no qualms about his target, be it a man, woman or child. Money is money and anyone who looks at the muscular assassin would assume he’s the same in every aspect of his life outside of the killing field as he is inside of it. Ruthless, brutal, raw.

But when he’s inside of you?

The planets halt their rotations, the oceans cease their waves, the very air seems to still around him.

Hands grip your hips as you move in slow, controlled undulations, soft pants and deep breaths escaping kiss bruised lips while his mouth leaves patches of red and purple along your neck and collarbone, your breast, wherever he can reach. His eyes boring into yours and simmering in a way that put the very stars to shame.

Your hands card through his hair as you arch against him, his thrusts hitting you so deep it’s as if he’s trying to carve his very name into your soul. An erotic sound leaves his mouth on a groan that shakes the very foundations of your core as you move your body; in, out, slow, deep.

So deep it’s like you’ll never separate again.

He’s never like this with you, maybe once in a blue moon, if he’s drunk. He lets you take the reins; lets you control the pace. He’s open. Unadulterated, real, exposing the echoes of emotions you knew he possessed.

“Fuck,” his voice is barely audible, but you catch it. “Y/N…”

You keep up your movements, your walls squeezing his cock for all its worth, clenching around him as tendrils of heat coil inside your pelvis. “Hm?”

You meet his eyes, pupils blown, so dark that his irises are almost black in the dim light of the dying rays of the sun from the window. A light sheen of sweat covers his body, highlighted by the deep orange and purple sky behind him. An Adonis, handcrafted by the very gods themselves. Fluid and solid all at once, throwing shadows against the wall as he moves, as you move. Two halves of the same whole for just a moment.

His mouth is on yours then, stealing the very air from your lungs. As the pleasure rises to a crescendo and shatters, he dies inside you a little, speaking your name like a mantra and he’s the sole follower at your alter. You follow suit, the pleasure cascading through you and misfiring your neurons until you can’t tell what’s real and what’s not. You all but collapse against his chest, heart thundering in your ears, either his or your own, you aren’t entirely sure, but you listen to his staccato breathing in unison with yours and smile a little. It’s just the two of you, melting against each other as the world starts to fall asleep around you.

[lanafofana]

To soothe, Ignites

It's been three days since i had this thought hit my brain like a freight train and ive been chewing on it ever since in a google doc and anyway here you go

Pairing: Halsin x (female) Tav

Warning: the weight of burgeoning, unresolved tension

Summary: It's just a nice friendly, platonic massage, what's the worst that could happen?

Rating: M just to be safe. Nothing really overly explicit

Halsin rubs the back of his neck and leans back a little, stretching, a faint frown on his weathered face. Across the camp, Tav watches discreetly over the edge of her book. It’s not the first time she’s witnessed him absently soothing an ache at the end of the day. 

It occurs to her that, for being such a large man, he must get quite the cramp in his neck from always having to bow his head to talk to her and her companions. Someone calls to her and she turns away, distracted from the vein of thought. 

It isn’t until later, after they’ve eaten their dinner and people have started to drift back to their own tents, she picks up the thread again. First watch is barely a chore at all with how her mind, resistant to settling down for the evening, spins through a dizzying whirl of thoughts. 

Generally she stokes the fire with naught but a book for company, occasionally walking the perimeter of camp and puzzling on the mystery of the Absolute. Tonight though, the cult is a distant problem, distant as their destination in Baldur’s Gate anyway. With Ketheric defeated and another long stretch to their journey waiting for morning to begin she finds her mind wandering to topics much closer at hand. 

The elf was a powerful druid. His command of the druidic arts was a sight to behold though she only caught glimpses of it during the assault on Moonrise. Of course, she vividly remembers the warmth of his healing magic mending her seconds after an arrow had caught her between the ribs. It had been quick. The pain had torn through her concentration like a blaze of hellfire. She had crashed to her knees, the taste of iron and mortality on her tongue, her vision blurring with shadows. She’d barely had time to suck in a wet sounding wheeze when his hands had been on her, nature’s divine magic enveloping her entirely. 

“You’re all right, lass,” he’d said firmly, as if so secure in the inevitability of her being alright that he would brook no argument on the matter. From her or her fatal injury. The pain had reduced to a manageable ache and she’d sucked in a lungful of air greedily, hardly aware of it when he’d dragged her back to her feet. Until she’d seen the bugbear running up behind him, bloody axe raised high, and then she’d shoved him away and instantly thrown herself back into the fray of violence. 

The archdruid had proven himself more than just a valuable ally, but a good companion too. Perhaps even a friend. He’d always been polite and sincere, if a little distant. More attentive to his god, paying an impressive amount of time dedicated to his prayers and meditations rather than the camaraderie and dramas of their little camp. Still, even if he did not seek out her or anyone else’s companionship he was always willing to sit with her during her watch when she sought out his. Putting down his book or whatever he was doing with that scrap of wood he was always carrying and putting the full weight of his attention and focus on her entirely. 

Since reuniting the two halves of Thaniel’s spirit it seemed to Tav that Halsin also seemed more whole. As if a missing piece of his own spirit had finally slotted back into place. His smiles seemed warmer and his attention more focused outward than in. 

As if summoned by the force of her thoughts, Tav caught movement from the corner of her eye and was surprised to see the druid himself emerge from the gloom of the forest. He was on his way to his own tent but paused when he saw her in the glow of the campfire. 

“Good evening,” he greets, approaching. He’s doffed his shirt, a common habit of his in the evening but the glow of the fire gives the planes of his chest an otherworldly glow. 

Tav feels the corners of her smile lift, the clattering of her thoughts stilling. “That it is,” she agrees. “For once.”

With the shadow curse lifted she can finally spy the twinkling of stars between the boughs of the trees. When a breeze flutters through camp it feels like fresh air being breathed into the land instead of a death rattle come to herald some horrific doom. 

Halsin, following her gaze to the sky, smiles and nods in assent. “And for many more nights to come, I believe.” 

Lost in thought he doesn’t feel her gaze as she takes the opportunity to openly study him. He looks well, not relaxed per say, but a little stiff. Absentmindedly the druid raises a hand and rubs at his neck, cocking his head as if to relieve a persistent ache and Tav comes to a sudden decision.

“Come. Sit,” she gestures to the space before her by the fire. Halsin gives her a quizzical smile, his brows furrowed. “You’ve been worrying that neck of yours like a dog with a bone, let me help.”   

“It is nothing to be concerned about,” he tries to defer but Tav is adamant. 

“Nonsense. Can’t have my favorite archdruid suffering,” she teases. “Not when I have the means to alleviate it very easily. Come.” She reaches down from her perch on the log they’ve been using as seating and pats the ground between her feet expectantly. “Allow me.”  

Hesitating for the span of a breath Halsin relents, sitting himself before her. At her feet he spies a book and picks it up curiously. “A travel guide?” 

Tav hums and widens the gap between her knees, gently guiding him closer for a better reach. Despite the cooling autumn night air his bare skin radiates heat and she tries not to think too much about any other circumstances where her legs might bracket his body so close to hers. Or of his proximity to her own budding source of heat. Swallowing, mouth suddenly very dry, Tav refocuses on the task at hand. “Would you like to read it? Probably not much new information for you but the author’s particular, ah, outlook is quite something. An entertaining read if not a wholly informative one.” 

Halsin chuckles, opening and scanning the text. “Thank you, I’ve found my own reading material quite exhausted of late.” 

Brushing his tawny hair off his shoulders, Tav tsk’s with mock reproach. “You should have said, I’ve quite the collection now. When you’ve finished with that one, let me know.”

“You are incredibly generous,” Halsin murmurs but it’s so low she can’t be sure if she was meant to hear it. 

At first it feels clumsy as she maps out the expanse of his wide shoulders. In truth, it’s been a very long time since she’s done anything like this for someone but, much like picking up the sword again after a decade or so of neglecting the craft, her hands seem to know their way around better than her mind. With dextrous skill she gets to work, alternating between using her thumbs and the heel of her palms to glide over thick muscle, coaxing each gnarl to release. 

The camp is quiet, the rest of her companions lost to slumber, and she quickly loses herself to the lull of the crackling fire and the delicate flutter of turning pages as Halsin reads. They don’t speak but the silence is comfortable, easy. 

With each rigid cord of muscle she rubs into submission the druid relaxes a little more, the occasional sigh reaching her ears that makes her smile with smug triumph. When she finds a particularly persistent knot she increases the pressure of her stroke eliciting a grunt. 

“Gods, sorry,” she murmurs hastily, easing her touch to rest lightly against his warm skin, feeling her cheeks flush with chagrin at her over enthusiasm. Halsin merely shakes his head. He turns his face to eye her with a gentle smile, the hazel of his eyes dark against the backdrop of the firelight.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he assures her softly. “I am quite unharmed. Continue if you wish.” 

Trusting he’s not merely humoring her she resumes her ministrations with more care. She devotes her attention to increasing the pressure when necessary with exacting precision. Working her way across his shoulders until she comes to the tight line of muscles branching up his neck. Each stroke is steady and firm. 

Between the monotony of the movements and the intensity of her focus it’s some time before she realizes he hasn’t turned a page in a while. His shoulders are lax and when she strokes a thumb up the nape of his neck he leans into it, only slightly, as if unconsciously. 

Tav is not unaware of the intimacy of the moment. She’d put her own lustful thoughts in a box and buried it deep in the back of her mind since his gentle rebuffment of her clumsy advances at the tiefling party. An entire age ago from this moment, but it springs open now. 

With a detached sort of curiosity, as if she is watching her hands from outside herself she runs deft fingers through his hair and scratches at the delicate skin at the base of his scalp. He shivers and releases a sound that is more akin to a sensation rumbling up from his chest and buzzing along her fingertips like electricity. It feels like crossing an invisible line. 

The druid and the ranger still, as if both caught together in a web they don’t quite know how to navigate. He doesn’t move away and, pulse suddenly hammering in her throat, Tav rests her hands on the top of his shoulders gently. She drags the pads of her fingers down his back, skimming the warmth of his body and he exhales heavily, a sound that travels up Tav’s spine with expectation. An ache begins to bloom inside her core, a greedy hunger that flexes and curls under her skin with intoxicating heat and intent. 

“My my, isn’t this cozy?” 

The dulcet tone of Astarion’s voice breaks the delicate thread of something that had risen up between them like the sharp crack of a snapping live wire and Tav jerks her hands away guiltily, embarrassment drowning out the previous brief flickerings of passion. 

“Astarion,” she greets and hopes he doesn’t pick up on the breathless waver in her tone. No such luck, his red eyes practically gleam in the dim evening light as he takes them in by the fire. She clears her throat, her scattering thoughts tangling in on themselves while she looks for solid ground. “What are you–”

“Second watch, darling.” The vampire’s expression is too sharp, too knowing. “Off to bed you pop. Our fearless leader should be well rested for the journey ahead.” 

Halsin stirs from his place on the ground, shifting and rising as if lumbering out of a trance. “Of course,” he says and offers his hand to pull her up from the log. “It’s later than I realized. Forgive me.” 

Whatever spell had enthralled them is broken and the look in his eye is friendly, polite. It burns more than the embarrassment had. Her hand is still in his and she withdraws it, feeling uncertain of her footing and hating it. 

“Gentlemen.” She feels like she’s still mentally gathering the parts of her that had spilled out and stuffing it all inside a deep dark hole inside herself. An easier task if she also didn’t feel like instead of flesh, her entire person was made of sticky goop. “See you in the morning.” 

“Sweet dreams, dear,” Astarion calls out to her, something in his dark voice suggestive. She raises a hand without looking back and beats a hasty retreat. 

The air is cold now, especially away from the fire. Curling up in her little makeshift tent, Tav does little to resist the memory of being wrapped in the warm glow of the druid’s body heat. She stares at the ceiling of her little world and wonders what the hell was that. 

[nanomooselet]

My Brother's Keeper (I)

So, uh, I have seen the complaints that Stampede is "poorly-written". Often enough, really, to get... somewhat overly bent out of shape about it. Stampede was my entry into the story and I may have mentioned once or twice that I like it. You know. Just a little. This is not to say it's without its flaws, but it's technically very skilful, at least to my eyes. It's just… skilful in roughly twenty-two minute chunks, so it crams a whole lot into those chunks.

Vash tells Wolfwood he can "see [kindness] in his eyes" half an hour tops after hitting him with a truck. It's assumed that they're relying on previous characterisation of the two to carry this beat.

They're not.

See, animated shows or films (and definitely in the case of Stampede) aren't only written. They're story-boarded, rendered, scored etc. and all the parts interlock with the other parts. It has to be taken as a whole: spoken, written, visual, musical, situational, compositional. These are twelve instalments of a single story where everything in it develops, comments on, or reflects what lies at the work's thematic heart, but you have to figure out how. It's not going to explain it to you. If the relationship between two characters appears strange, that's because there's more to it. And whenever you see something in it that visually echoes something else in it, get out your pasteboard and stick in two thumbtacks connected with string because the show's letting you know it's important.

Now, because I viewed Stampede first, my reaction to this part was very much like Wolfwood's ("???") but the more of the show I watched, the more sense it started to make, and the more I appreciated what it did for Vash's characterisation. Having since read the manga, in my opinion the boys aren't at all interacting like they're accessing past-life memories. Vash is too busy silently reeling over Jeneora Rock and dreading his confrontation with Knives to keep up the whacky act that the older WW pierced. Wolfwood is too young and trapped by his own hurt to empathise by seeing through Vash's false smiles.

There's something else going on with these two, and if you think carefully, it's clear what it is. There were two loved ones that Vash lost tragically early in life, and we can assume it's not Rem he's thinking of.* The heart of this series is "the song of the brothers."

Whose side are you on?

I have to choose.

Lo and behold, through that lens the character interaction made a whole lot more sense. And I want to talk about how.

So, according to the show's language, right from his very first appearance Wolfwood has a connection with Knives.

In the ensuing scenes/episodes, it was then clear to me that Wolfwood isn't just connected to Vash's brother. He's a representative, serving as a sort of understudy while Vash journeys to confront the real thing. Anything and everything Wolfwood does or says is with that role in mind, because he's either playing along or fighting against it. It dictates his development as the show unfolds. He's got a job and he'll do it, but which of the twins' agendas is he ultimately serving as he does? Even he can't yet be sure.

This is a significant change. It has a huge effect on Wolfwood's characterisation; it's why he comes across as less confident, more surly - he's rebellious, but conflicted and immature. In the manga, the first time we meet Nick he's (mostly) his own man and he (mostly) makes his own decisions. While he isn't honest about his agenda, he is trying to temper Vash's idealism for honest and well-meaning reasons, albeit in a bitchy way. When he reveals himself, throwing down the coin halves, you feel the man is protesting too much so it'll make what's coming easier on Vash. Despite how deeply the two came to love each other they couldn't communicate their forgiveness, but Wolfwood is at his core a good man first who lost his way, then finds it again in Vash. **

Again by contrast in Stampede, Nick's identity isn't his own to shape (yet). He standing in for Knives, and he doesn't much like it. He does know more about the actual shape of things than the reporters - for instance, he doesn't bat an eyelash when Brad mentioned how long they've known Vash. So he can readily talk with Vash and test his convictions. They basically both know each other's biggest secrets already, so they don't have to make a whole production of getting to know each other.

But standing in for Knives is also why the introductory aw-look-he's-nice-really scene is so quickly revealed to be staged. Knives is the primary antagonist, not a neutral agent - he's the most dangerous and personal opponent the protagonists face. He's also cruel, controlling and manipulative. His "help" is anything but. Any gift he seems to freely give, like a protector, will either extract an awful cost down the line or have some hidden purpose (if he isn't "solving" a problem he himself created). Approach with caution.

(You know how Nick did something no one asked him to do then hit Vash, Meryl and Roberto with a massive bill for it like a dick? You know how he then violently rescued them from a situation he himself engineered so they'd have gratitude? Those are Knives's most basic manipulation tactics, when he isn't just hurling verbal abuse: I help you/I love you so I'm entitled to take this from/do this to you. Wolfwood is causing problems on purpose by acting out because it's funny, and knows he won't get whatever he's demanding. Knives thinks he's helping, and rarely hears when he's told "no".

Also, both the English and the Japanese have Roberto calling Wolfwood someone who kills with a smile on his face. He doesn't, really, but we have met someone else who does.)

That means like every other character, Wolfwood isn't quite himself. Not yet.

And that's actually awesome. Because it speaks to who the other characters are - specifically, about Vash.

(Part II)

(Part III)

(Part IV)

(Part V)

(Part VI)

(Part VII)

* OR COULD IT BE, as inevitably assumed on tumblr when two men are in proximity, unspoken romantic desire????

I'm not saying it can't be a factor, but it doesn't explain why they start having discussions over their principles like they've known each other for years. Or at least, to me it doesn't. As I've said I don't ship them. If you disagree, it's totally fine! Hear me out and decide for yourself. There's no reason to believe both can't be true.

** By what's coming, I mean the same development that eventually comes to every iteration of Wolfwood. You know the one. And by "they loved each other" I don't mean necessarily mean romantically. My personal belief is that there were mutual feelings along those lines, but they're both too emotionally reticent to acknowledge them and might not have regardless. But that's just me!

[cdroloisms]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Anticipation & Survival

woo :D was able to participate this time with a little fic, hopefully this means i'll have the time to try and write more consistently again :') hope you guys enjoy 2.8k words of c!Dream being Normal and Fine and c!Sam being absolutely miserable.

---

The prison is working out well. 

Dream spins the clock. The background is mostly a sunny blue sky, with the slightest creep of dark blue rotating in along the right. The sun is a bright dandelion yellow. It’s afternoon. Maybe two, three o’clock. He’s been tracking the days by sunset, when the clock is split in equal halves of blue and navy. Ranboo visits too, to corroborate the time, but it’s a good habit to keep track while he can. It’s been seven days. A whole week. 

Besides Ranboo, there’s been one visit. Tommy. He’s seen three people, since being put in here. Tommy, Ranboo, and Sam. He’s eaten twenty potatoes. Counting is mundane, but so is everything now. There isn’t much to do in prison. Just sweat, and stare at lava, and stare at obsidian when that makes his eyes hurt, and wait for Sam to come in and check that he’s not been doing anything stupid, and wait for visitors, and eat and drink and sleep. It’s not a big room. He wouldn’t say it’s a particularly small one, either. The ceiling’s a little low, and there’s not anywhere to run, of course, but there’s plenty of room to pace and sit and lie down straight and he can sit down on the chest fine without hitting his head on stone. It’s not like he’ll need much space to carry out any plans in the foreseeable future. The cell is absent of certain comforts—a cot, for one, for obvious reasons—but once you get used to that, and the food, and the heat, it’s really not that bad. It’s not like he’s any stranger to roughing it. 

From a certain point of view, it’s almost relaxing. Sam is predictable. Almost more of a clock than the clock he’s given him, which is half the reason Dream throws it in the lava at all; Sam is reliable. His reactions are reliable. He gets food delivered twice a day, once in the morning, once at night. The nightly visit is accompanied by questioning, and occasionally Sam comes into the cell around midday to interrogate him too. Dream cooperates. Why shouldn’t he? He’s already spilled his whole plan to everyone on the mountain, gloated to Tommy, who has surely run his mouth to everyone within earshot by now. There’s no point to him being cagey at this point; no, better to rave and rant about Tommy and exile and his plan in the mountain, better to let Sam get all the information he wants and watch his eyebrows knit in disgust. Sam raises his voice, Dream answers his questions, Sam storms off. He’s even started watching the clock, just out of curiosity, and Sam leaves his cell pretty much the same time every day. Clockwork. 

There was one day when Sam didn’t come at all and Dream had—a moment, admittedly, embarrassing enough, just a string of disconnected thoughts about what would happen if the Warden of the prison suddenly dropped dead and died—but Sam had been right there the next day, looking more miserable than Dream has ever seen him. He made a quip about skipping work that made Sam snap at him; Dream takes it as a good sign, that the man guarding him seems to be more pained about the fact that he left him alone for a day than Dream was bothered about the disappearance of the single person responsible for every aspect of his life for the foreseeable future. That’s Sam, though. Dependable. Dedicated. Never one to not take his job seriously. If Dream put Sapnap in charge of the prison, he’d probably starve to death before the first month was up, but Sam looks like he’d rather fall on his own sword than leave Dream alone for a full twenty-four hours again; Dream has it in him to feel bad that he’s putting the guy to work for the sake of his own vacation. Just, a little bit. 

Back to his point. The prison is relaxing. Really. It’s boring, sure, but obviously he expected that; he’s never had so little to do before. He wakes up at night (he’s been attempting to sleep at nighttime, just because the light apparently is supposed to mess with you, but his sleep schedule has been shot for months so it’s not like it really matters to him all that much) with his brain racing, grasping for a list of tasks to do, only to come up empty. It’s a bit of a marvel. He thinks it’s funny. Yeah, brain, he’s in his—vacation arc. They’re doing nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just like they planned. Nobody’s getting into this place to kill him, not without smacking face-first into, like, a billion security protocols, not without dealing with Sam’s workaholic Warden schtick on their ass. He’s even getting food hand-delivered to him. Full service! Or something. 

He spins the clock again. Tommy gave him books to write. Sam flipped through them, asked questions, Dream answered. He’s not writing answers for them. He might throw them in the lava, if Sam doesn’t just confiscate the damn things; Dream knows he wants Tommy nowhere near him. Fair enough. Maybe he can write some long-ass manifesto about how much he wanted Tommy’s discs for Sam to chew on, if he gets bored enough. He laughs a little at the thought as he thinks it—okay, yeah, nah. He’s not at that point yet. 

He lies down. Horizontal. The ground is hot, but everything’s hot, and he’s getting used to it at this point; better hot than cold, honestly. He’d rather sleep here than out in the snow. The ceiling is a plane of unbroken black stone. Dream raises his hand, splays out his fingers. His nails are starting to get long. Nothing to file them down with in here…teeth it is. Whatever. He lets his hand fall back to the ground, sighing. His eyes glance over at the clock. 

Barely any time has passed. Still hours before Sam comes back. Dream bites back a low groan. Fine, fine, the boredom is getting to him. A little bit. He’s not surprised—it’s not like he’s ever done well with sitting still—but it’s still, annoying. He waves his arms and legs like he’s making a snow angel in the obsidian. Or doing jumping jacks. He should do jumping jacks, maybe. He’s got a basic workout routine to do daily—or several times a day, when there’s nothing else to do (there’s always nothing else to do, but whatever), but he’s not in the mood for it right now. 

He clicks his tongue, just to hear himself. He talks to himself, sometimes, but he has to be careful what he says. Not that it’s not a good thing to keep up, though, for the madman routine. It’s much better to talk to himself when he knows he has an audience, muttering Tommy, Tommy, Tommy in those minutes before Sam enters his cell. Fun, even. Sometimes he writes out evil speeches to give in his notebooks, burning the pages in the lava before Sam arrives. He shouldn’t get reckless with it or anything, pushing the things too far past the point of absurdity, but at this point he could probably get away with saying—just about anything. He could blather on about how he wanted to keep Tommy in a cage and play his dumb little discs to him all day until he goes insane, and Sam would write all of that down in his—book with his face twisted up under his helm while Dream tries not to break down laughing and give away the whole ruse. Not that laughing doesn’t work out for him either, to be fair. He’s gotten pretty good at the villain laugh. 

Dream stands up. He looks at the clock mounted in the item frame; the sliver of night sky on the right side has grown just slightly wider, enough to expose the slightest edge of one white-dotted star. Still hours before sunset. He pulls it off the wall, watching the background tick ever slowly forward. The gold gleams, polished to a mirror finish. 

Sam’s craftsmanship is unmistakable, even with something as small as this. He almost feels bad for what he’s about to do. 

He holds the clock up to the lava, keeping it in his hand for as long as he can handle it before the heat against his palm makes him shove it entirely under the flow, watching it disappear through strings of smoke. The crackling noise fades back into the normal hisses and pops after a few seconds; the smoke will linger for longer. Dream stands there, the lava’s heat at his face. It hurts his eyes to look at.

…whatever. 

He backs away. Then claps, brushing his palms against each other. Clock’s been burned. Another item of his daily itinerary handled—not that he does this daily. Has to keep Sam on his toes, right? The crazy prisoner isn’t supposed to be the predictable one, not like the ever-punctual Warden. This is—important, he’s decided, for his image. Well, not important, maybe, but it’s calculated. Beneficial. Nobody sane takes the one thing they have in their cell and destroys it repeatedly for literally no reason. Sam’s prisoner, the crazy guy that was trying to take over the server, isn’t sane. No one questions why an insane guy tries to control everyone with a bunch of shit he doesn’t even have, why he thinks he can keep someone locked up in a two-by-one box with a couple of iron bars, why he listens to a guy threatening to kill himself when he can literally raise the dead. It’s all set dressing. Method acting. One or the other, or both; it’s not like he’s ever watched a real play in his life. All that matters is that everyone thinks he’s crazy because no one asks a crazy guy why he’s acting crazy, and crazy people do stuff like obsess over stupid pieces of vinyl and talk to themselves and destroy their own shit for no reason. 

(Which probably makes Tommyinnit a crazy person, ha.) 

Sam will come back. Soon. He will bring potatoes with him, and investigate the cell, and see the missing clock. He will complain. He will threaten Dream, rave about the destruction of prison property, telling him that he won’t replace it. He will question him about Tommy. And tomorrow morning, a new clock will be put in its place. Honestly, Sam would probably give himself an aneurysm if he had to look at the cell with one of its components missing. It seems like the kind of thing to bother him too much not to set straight. And tomorrow, maybe Dream will throw the clock into the lava again, and maybe he won’t. He’ll see. 

He’s the one that decides, in the end.

— 

Sam checks his comm again as he waits for the lava to fall, head already pounding. He’s had an on-and-off migraine ever since his night with the Egg, and the current wave shows no sign of abating any time soon. If he could have it his way, he’d be back in his bed, Fran curled up beside him, where it’s dark and quiet and comfortably cool instead of sweating half to death in a suffocating suit of full armor. Instead, he’s nursing a headache that only gets worse with every notification he reads off the log pulled up on his screen; he doesn’t even bother counting the string of [Dream tried to swm in lava] that appears under today’s date. The fact that it’s a seemingly longer list than the days previous does little to help his already bad mood. 

He still has no idea what Dream hopes to achieve by doing this, besides attention. Not that Sam has even been trying to give him that, these days; he visits twice a day, once at 9 the morning and once at 6 in the afternoon, and then leaves the prisoner to himself. Sam doesn’t answer to him. He’s not going to get the same reaction he got the first time he pulled this stunt, when Sam had rushed into the cell in the middle of the night, heart in his throat after running halfway across the server, only to find Dream waiting for him in the middle of his cell with his mask smiling back mockingly. If he’s hoping to stir Sam into a panic again, he’s sorely mistaken. But still Dream continues. He’s probably just doing it to get a reaction out of him. He probably thinks that’s funny. 

Dream is standing, waiting for him. Muttering to himself, he thinks he can hear. Sam pulls the lever for the bridge and steps on it, his sword in hand, wanting to get this visit over and done with as quickly as possible. He might sleep in the Warden’s quarters here, tonight, just to avoid the commute back to his base. Yeah, that sounds good. All he has to do is survive one conversation with Dream. 

The prisoner has stopped talking to himself by the time Sam steps into the cell, lifting his chin as he looks at him. 

“Hi, Sam.” 

Sam makes a vague noise of acknowledgement, not more than a low grunt. His eyes scan the room from left to right, stopped prematurely by the sight of the empty item frame mounted on the wall. His headache grows exponentially worse in an instant, a stabbing pain hammering itself into the back of his skull. He grits his teeth. 

He should’ve expected this. He knows he should’ve expected this. 

“Prisoner.” 

“Sam,” Dream replies, his smile audible in his voice. Sam closes his eyes, a prayer flitting across his overtaxed mind. God help him.

“Where’s your clock.” What’s the point of asking, even. Dream sways from foot to foot. 

“I burned it?”

“Why did you do it. Again.” Dream shrugs. Sam steps forward, shoves him back. “Don’t be so dumb, Dream.” 

The prisoner barely seems to react, his back hitting the wall. His voice is nearly sing-song. “Ohhh. I got you though.” 

Sam wishes, not for the first time, that he didn’t have the work ethic that keeps him from coming into the cell drunk. Surely the prisoner cannot be any more infuriating to handle with the help of some alcohol. He holds the prisoner by his jaw and knocks his head back against the wall, gauntlet digging into the pale skin under the bottom edge of his mask. 

“What is wrong with you!” Dream struggles, slightly. Sam kicks at his legs. “Don’t move. Answer my question.” 

“Let go.” 

“How many times have I told you not to burn the clock, Dream!” He knocks the back of his head against the wall, harder this time. The struggling stops. “Do you think it’s funny? I don’t have to replace your clock!” 

Dream sounds a little dazed when he replies, arms crossed at his chest. “I just wanted to burn it. So I did.” 

“That’s ridiculous. What is your problem.” He shakes his head by his jaw, once, then lets go, giving himself enough distance to swing a fist into Dream’s side, making him double over. He scoffs at the sight, anger white-hot. He knows he shouldn’t be letting the prisoner get to him. Knows that Dream is only doing this to mess with him, mess with him the same way he messes with everyone, trying to get into his head. His skull feels like it’s being split apart. 

Dream stands up straight again. All Sam can see is the flat, smooth plane of his mask, that smile, unchanged. His hands, knotted into tight fists at his sides, shake. The heat pulsing behind his eyes feels like rage, and also almost feels like he’s going to cry.

He can’t do this. The realization is abrupt, but sure. Not tonight, not with this headache, not with Dream. He can’t go through the same song and dance, can’t sit here and examine the cell and give the prisoner his potatoes and go through questioning for an hour, can’t spend the rest of his night going over his words with a fine-toothed comb looking for the nuggets of truth hidden in the midst of the prisoner’s crazed ramblings. Hasn’t he done enough? For the whole server, for everyone, day after day he stands and faces the monster before him and day after day he stands strong; retreating now feels like weakness, but he can’t. He honestly, truly, can’t. He ignores the weight of the potatoes in his inventory and turns. 

“Sam?” Dream speaks again when he’s reached the edge of the cell, sounding slightly winded. “What are you—?” 

Sam pearls across the gap, slamming the lever to lower the lava wall as soon as his vision clears. Tomorrow, he will be the Warden of Pandora’s Vault. Tomorrow, he will stand toe-to-toe against the one he has been entrusted to keep and stand firm. Tomorrow, he will do as he must, as the one responsible for the survival of everyone and everything he holds dear. 

Today, it’s just too much. He looks back to a wall of unbroken lava, only able to stare at it for a few seconds before turning away. 

[sneakyboymerlin]

if gwaine found out about merlin's magic, destiny, and the reason for his behavior towards mordred, what do you think he would do, regarding merlin and merlin's relationship with him? would he meddle at all? would he try to get merlin to realize that he (merlin) has more to life than what his 'destiny' is. and therefore mordred probably does too?

i read a fic recently where it was like. "merlin realizes he has failed at his destiny and so reconciles w/mordred because he figured mordred too can fail at his destiny" but i dont know if the whole "merlin failed at his destiny" thing sits right with me. so much of it was on him, by the dragon and the fandom, but its supposed to be "two halves of the same coin" for a reason--they are supposed to be equals yet everyone is content to keep merlin delegated to the role of serving arthur and only arthur, rather than valuing himself as well, and arthur is just as much as fault for magic not coming to camelot because arthur is king and is very much still prejudiced against magic for the most part. thats not on merlin. at a certain point you have to realize that arthur is a grown man he cannot be coddled forever, especially as a king?

if gwaine found out about merlin's magic, destiny, and the reason for his behavior towards mordred, what do you think he would do, regarding merlin and merlin's relationship with him? would he meddle at all? would he try to get merlin to realize that he (merlin) has more to life than what his 'destiny' is. and therefore mordred probably does too?

Easy answer: he’d fuck Merlin against a wall.

Complex answer: I think for Merlin, he already knew that it was possible for Mordred to fail in his destiny… if Mordred died, at least. As far as he was concerned, only one of them could fail/succeed, because just as Merlin was destined to protect Arthur even though he hated him at first, Mordred was destined to kill Arthur even if he did seem to like him. Merlin’s goal is essentially to make sure Mordred fails in his destiny so that he can succeed in his own. Kilgharrah warns Merlin from the start that the only way to ensure this is to kill him, or so Kilgharrah thinks.

I believe that both of their destinies were going to inevitably be fulfilled at some point. If Mordred died, he could still be Arthur’s Bane because we’ve seen a Druid ghost come back to seek revenge against Arthur. And even at his most accepting, Arthur was still pretty lukewarm towards magic, seeing “good magic” as an exception to its default “evil” state (as expressed in 5x05 and 5x09). Therefore, everything with Kara could still happen even if Arthur welcomed the Old Religion back to Camelot, since he doesn’t understand the true extent of his bias.

If Gwaine found out about Merlin’s magic, I think he would have some divided reactions. For one thing, he is pretty much unquestioningly loyal to Merlin and would most certainly accept Merlin as “one of the good ones” among sorcerers. The problem with this: he may believe that sorcerers are bad by default, much like Arthur does. He would probably not question Merlin’s judgment of Mordred much, though we never see Gwaine’s stance on prophecy/destiny, but he would notice the toll that this prophecy is taking on Merlin, as he’s shown to worry over Merlin when he’s aware of his distress (see: seasons 3-5). His prioritization of Merlin could lead to him minimizing the importance or overall possibility of the prophecy. However, he doesn’t take threats to Arthur’s life lightly, either, so it’s kind of hit or miss there.

Ultimately, for all that Merlin can try to advise him, it’s up to Arthur to fix his own biases. Merlin can’t do it for him. If Merlin stood by and did nothing, the end results would be more or less the same as when he tries everything—though maybe Arthur dies a decade or so earlier. Whereas if Arthur accepts magic, then maybe something changes. But the prophecy implies that the perfect balance comes from some equivalent effort between both Merlin and Arthur… which doesn’t happen, because Merlin is putting in all of the effort, and Arthur isn’t pulling his own weight.

On the bright side, if Gwaine knows about Merlin’s magic, maybe he gets to stick by Merlin’s side through the whole finale?

[tossawary]

Needing something to play in the background during the day, I have started watching Transformers G1 and have now finished the first season. It is very funny to visit the original after getting most of my information through Fandom Osmosis and passing acquaintanceship with more recent Transformers media. I decided to start at the beginning (terrible decision, I know, I will not be changing it) because I have like 40+ hours per week that need background sound and I like studying adaptational choices over time, so I intend to progress through a bunch of Transformers shows in chronological order.

It's kind of like Star Trek: TOS (Star Trek is better) in that I find parts of it very charming, there are plenty of aspects that are even compelling in their potential, but it's also... bad. A lot of it is Very Bad, sometimes in a very funny way and sometimes in a way that is just Not Good and even Problematic. I cannot possibly recommend it.

The animation quality is understandably very low due to the context of its creation (television show from the 80s made to sell toys). I like a few of the Cybertron background paintings, but it still takes me a second to tell a lot of the characters apart, partially because there is a revolving door for supporting characters. The writing quality is even worse. The physics is all over the place. The powers and abilities are completely arbitrary. None of the science works. No one can decide what body parts the Cybertronians actually have. There is way more mind control in this show than I ever expected there to be. This is apparently an alternate universe where the Earth has various types of energy crystals. The Idiot Ball trope is flying all over the place like dodgeballs and the characters are repeatedly hitting themselves with it constantly. Some of the accents are quite silly, yeah, but it still doesn't justify how some people type them out in fanfiction.

And yet I am still mildly entertained, probably because I am already partial to both animation and space opera with robots. And I recognize enough of the characters to find these early versions of them very funny. And some parts of this extended toy commercial were very clearly Done With Love.

Megatron and Starscream are like two halves of a whole idiot. The Decepticons are incapable of not betraying each other for more than a few episodes. Except for Soundwave, who is the MVP of the Decepticons, and yet also does nothing to stop any of the drama. Both sides can just Make New Guys at any time apparently and the Dinobots should unionize. I think Optimus Prime essentially "ok boomer"ed Megatron in the second episode and it was justified. I can't believe that Shockwave didn't just straight up stage a coup or otherwise move on in 4 million years, like, man, DUMP HIS ASS already. Bumblebee has apparently always been Very Smol and Just A Little Guy. Because this is a kids show, all these giant robots are constantly calling the Mortal Enemies They Want Dead "dweebs" and "nerds" and "twerps" and it's Very Funny. And I'm just going to assume that Sparkplug is a nickname and not an adult human man's legal name.

Also, I know the reason that the human kids are in the show is so that the show can go, "Look! This could be you! Being friends with all your favorite giant robots!" But it very much comes off as the Autobots having no real context for Spike's age or squishiness, probably because their own newborns are already able to fight. And Carly's introduction involving renting scuba gear and breaking into the Decepticon base makes her look (and I mean this with bewildered affection) fucking nuts, girl.

[arkus-rhapsode]

Now I've been working on something involving Cartoon Network and its 30+ history and recently it really hit me just how much I had grown up with the channel, but also how much its still growing.

I had started watching in the early 2000s just before the CN City bumpers were a thing and would catch numerous reruns of shows from the 90s. In a lot of ways, Cartoon Network was my channel. Now I enjoyed Nickelodeon for stuff like Spongebob and Danny Phantom and Invader Zim and I just never had Disney Channel in our cable package so I missed out a lot of those shows. But CN... to say its got a special place in my mind palace is an understatement I remember the checkerboard and seeing Cartoon Network Studios at the end of an episode and their little animations. I was there when Miguzi was a thing as well as the alien invasion. I watched the Noods take over in real time and the transition from black and white to rainbow colors of Check it! for the network. I can even remember Johnny Bravo and Dexter's Lab showing up in the Hannah Barbera logo as I was barraged with these old times characters.

I think one of the things so captivating about this was Cartoon Network's skill at making their programs feel like a family. Like not a shared universe like Marvel or Star Wars, but rather entertainment companies having this identity of their properties able to fit together whether through shared advertising, little crossovers, Easter eggs, etc. Who remembers the "Spot the Block" campaign? I was cringing even as a child to that song. This is something companies like Nintendo does a lot or even what Nicktoons used to do. It made it feel so much bigger than just a show, but it also felt intimate. Personal. That all these characters off in their own little world could find themselves sitting down for coffee or playing catch.

However, by 2015 I had basically stopped with the network. My family opted to get rid of cable and invest in early streaming for entertainment and to be honest, I kinda just knew my time may have been up. I was a teenager almost done with high school and this channel is still primarily aimed at kids, my generation was passing.

I would hear about things through the grapevine. Stuff like Steven Universe and Teen Titans Go were kinda impossible to avoid in 2016. But for the most part what the channel did was kinda under my radar. I was perfectly content to transition into my "Anime 4 Life" adulthood. Cut to the 2020s with HBO Max, and I had the chance to catch up on some TV shows and it was fun. Going back down that rabbit hole of nostalgia and I was fine stopping there. But then this year I started working on a project which required my looking back into every Cartoon Network original show ever.

So of course that meant I had to do research into basically a whole decade after I had stopped watching. So I did some watching-We Bare Bears, Long Live the Royals, Mighty Magiswords, OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes, Villainous, Apple & Onion, Craig of the Creek, Summer Camp Island, Victor and Valentino, Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart, Infinity Train, etc. This is probably the part where you expect me to say something like "Everything was better in my day" or something. But like no. I was not... sad about what I was seeing but like I was really glad. There was apart of me being like I'm glad this exists. I'm glad that you can still see that Cartoon Network DNA. It's different than it was before, but like there was still that core of what made Cartoon Network so unique in children's programming. Hell I was a little jealous I couldn't view this through the eyes of a kid today and what it feels like for them.

But for what I am, a man in his mid 20s who still watches animated content, I could almost feel like there was still this link between generations in a way I don't think I've ever seen before. These two halves of a thirty year time frame able to reach out be able to still be Cartoon Cartoons.

Yes I know, people will bring up how there's "dark times" but there always has been. This network wasn't perfect. I know a lot of people like to say there was a downfall, but I gotta be honest, the network always had mixed and controversial bags. I remember people telling me Chowder and Flapjack were garbage that pandered to only loud and gross out humor fans. Yet now they're talked about as absurdist comedy classics. CN Real is considered the lowest point of the network that goes against the entire ethos of the network, but in 2010 you got the debuts of shows like Adventure Time, Generator Rex, Ben 10 Ultimate Alien, etc. The real downfall I see happening right now is in how Warner Bros Discovery the Business has treated animated projects and their horrible treatment of animators in the name of corporate greed.

But I just can't truly dismiss all the good that has come for the last decade. And Hey we're apparently getting a new Cartoon Network show next year, Iyanu: Child of Wonder, it looks good so far. It looks like something that CN City heads wouldn't mind walking around town with Grim and Samurai Jack. And the thing that got me was how I taught to myself "Im glad that if I had kids I know they're is something good for them watch and I could watch alongside them..."

I don't know the future of CN. I don't think anyone can say. But when I really think about kids dedicated networks with an emphasis on purely animation, but also creative visionary driven animated programming, I really thought about how its history is very short in the grand scheme of the world. And I was lucky to be born in the early years of it. I can't tell you, how much a smile the Crossover Nexus special made me smile. Not because it was pandering to my nostalgia of CN City, but like seeing all of these characters preserved in statues in this world, from big names like Ed Edd n Eddy and Courage to stuff that were so short lived like Sym-Bionic Titan or Megas XLR to shows people would scream to the heavens they thought were trash like Secret Mountain Fort Awesome or Problem Solverz to so projects that barely got off the ground like Firebreather. It felt like everything mattered. That this short history means something. Its worth remembering the new and the old and everything in-between.

Because it's not just memories that matter, but it's carrying on that creative spark. That vision for a Network about and for cartoons. Carrying it beyond my life time. Carrying it far into the future. I hope I'm not the only one who feels that.

Welp, sorry for this ramble post to my usual followers. I was just taking a break from my usual discussion based content to work through some feelings I was having.

[icravemusicx0x0]

rating music pls dont hate me #27 | ARMAGEDDON - AESPA

AESPA's themes is all about power and confidence. AESPA's aesthetic has always been supernatural or at least unique and eccentric. ARMAGEDDON is not a different breed, but the debut studio album expresses this theme and aesthetic like a whole new game, might as well be better.

AESPA's is not the least unknown in the k pop industry. they made hits like BLACK MAMBA, SAVAGE, and most notably DRAMA which reached international recognition. they even have a song for the soundtrack a film about TETRIS, even it is a hit. the concept around AESPA is about the virtual world. their group's name, AESPA, combines the english initials for "avatar" and "experience" with the english word "aspect", meaning "two sides", to symbolize the idea of "meeting another self and experiencing the new world".

we can split the already 30 minutes-short album ARMAGEDDON into two halves. the first half of the album are tracks are electro dance pop songs, ending at LICORICE. its cool and very danceable. this production style has always been a part of aespa's discography, and the track really boldens that, even more creatively. from BAHAMA so forth we get a calmer and fun tune. i like AESPA's songs that focus more on vocals, it shows a lot of talent in them. the girl quartet can really express beautiful ballad melodies just like in MELODY, the last track of the album. this makes the album experience wide in genre. yet this idea is still not really reasonable to be necessary. i believe there is another approach which can make the album better.

overall, ARMAGEDDON feels like a completed and well polished album but it still has taste of dullness in it with room to improve. yet it is still a very matured and great start to this up and coming group.

underrated gem(s): LICORICE, BAHAMA - song of the summer fr, MELODY - the key change may make people feel overwhelmed but im fine bc they ate the whole ballad performance UP.

tracks that i rec listening: SUPERNOVA, ARMAGEDDON, SET THE TONE, LIVE MY LIFE.

worst track: PROLOGUE - this is such a basic song man.

overall score 6.5/10 - this is all opinion so pls no hate

[manysquidsandoctos]

BREAKING!! We have an exclusive interview from the one and only Squidbeak Girls!! You don't wanna miss it!

The once more-uniformly pop singers have now rebranded, taking on a whole new look! It shocks us how far they've come from their early starfish-dom days! Pictured above is the cover to their newest album, Currents of Love!

We asked Aqua and Emmy for their reasoning on the rebrand, and here's what they had to say:

"Well, we started out our image as prodigies of our esteemed mentors, the Squid Sisters," Aqua stated. "But over the years, our brand- our music, rather- has evolved into something more than just that. And given how Emmy and I are two different halves of a whole, we thought it was important to differentiate ourselves from each other, and those nearly identical uniforms weren't going to cut it!"

(Pictured above: The old look of the Squidbeak Girls, in their uniforms.)

"I loved the old look, don't get me wrong. I have a lot of sentiment toward those costumes. But they're also dated; they were from a time where our names were solely associated with the Squid Sisters, and when we wanted something 'cleaner', so to speak. But it's time to move on. We want to be known as the Squidbeak Girls, not the Squid Sisters' students. So we designed a new look based on some old drawings we had lying around when we first formed." Emmy commented.

(Pictured above: A sketch Emmy found in the back of her desk drawer.)

"This was the original look we wanted to go for initially. But then we wanted to play it safe, so went for the cleaner, matching look." Aqua told Inkopolis Times. "Also the fact that Emmy wanted to burn this drawing real badly because of how much she disliked her own outfit, heehee."

"I really did not like it. But Aqua told me to save it just in case, and now I'm kind of glad I did- do you mind if I put this picture away, I keep cringing at it." Emmy laughed.

They also have us some sketches that a designer helped put together- a designer by the name of Tempest, who owns the hit fashion line and stores Temptation.

(Pictured above: Designer sketches by Tempest.)

We also heard from the girls themselves that they collaborated on their newest track with a talented music maker! Unfortunately, said music maker wanted to remain anonymous as they didn't want their identity to get out, saying they have some bad experiences the last time they did that.

That's all that we have to report on for now! Upcoming next is an interview with Big Man: the most lovable member of Deep Cut turned into a pulp after he was revealed to be Ian BGM and collaborated with the Squid Sisters! As always, keep your fins up high!

[sioster]

Violence & blood below weewoo

@obsecure-pluto Here's the chapter 5 snippet I mentioned I wrote some time ago- keep in mind that I wrote this like 5 months ago without proofreading so it can be a bit stinky. There's also a bit of rambling included before the snippet to set up the scene 👍

Also orange text is context I added rn to make it more understandable

Wil shows up to the place of the coords and sees. the last person hoped this alarm was about. few roofs away stands his most despised enemy out of all that he has met in his superhero career

dream/zmora doesn't notice him until hes running and about to punch him in the back of his head, wils just very unhappy forgiv him. wil jumpscares dream and they just fight, dream desperately tries to not hit him, especially not in the spots that were affected by the accident (remember that hes still v guilty about the whole identity thing /this wasn't mentioned in the original post but to treat wil, dream had to unmask him without consent/) while wil just has none of this and on top of just being annoyed by the sole existance of dream, theres this pent up anger about what happened- how could he be so careless and not see that fire coming? /this wasn't mentioned either, wil blew himself up cuz of sapnap's fire that dream redirected/ he could have just taken a step back, moved out of the way,- anything-

and now what? he has to deal with constant pain everytime he moves from those stupid burns- the fact that, that guy can just- tell the entire world about who he really is-

and he lost a part of his hand-

now that he was out and free, he was so frustrated with everything. /as in he left civilian-dream's flat- be wasn't kept there by force tho- the doors were always open, wil was just too injuried to leave yet/

he couldnt even catch a break! the second he was out, he had to go to the stupid meeting, and now fight with an even stupider, full of himself, annoying, awful, green maggot that has wormed its way into his life and infested it with all of its putrid ways of being

with a single strong push dream loses his footing and hits his head on the border of the roof

-----

With a sickening sound and a gasp cut short, his head cracks open staining the grey concrete with blood. Even if it's hard to see it in the dark, lights from the street under them illuminates bright enough to let Wilbur see the shining, dark liquid pooling under Dream's head.

The Hero takes half a step back, the cold night breeze making him shiver.

There's silence.

The furious, hot embers in his chest dimming for a second, only to return twice as red with hate.

Deathly still face frozen in time, hidden behind dark bandages, turns into an ugly grimace splitting it into two wrinkled halves.

He leans over and grabs the collar of the dirty green suit, making his Enemy's head softly lull into his direction.

"You've made my blood boil so many times, for you to just stop doing what you've always done, and die?" He sneered "Was all of this just to f- with me?"

He shook his fists still full of the green cloth, dragging the bleeding body with it. Burning amber eyes were scrunched with frustration as they tried to find any sings of an answer to the spitten out questions.

"Answer me!"

But there was no answer, only a quiet gurgle coming from behind the ever smiling mask.

"You haven't even tried to fight me this time! Did you think that I'm too weak? That I would just surrender without you even doing a single move? That I'm just some poor imitation of a superhero with no powers?" He clenched his teeth and started shaking the man whose coppery tang of blood started to engulf both of them "Do you think that you're better than me?! Do you think that I can't even help myself?! That I need someone to take care of me because I was hurt too badly?!"

The honey eyes lost their brightness as salty tears began pooling in theirs corners. Face no longer wrinkled, he let out a shallow breath.

"Why the hell am I talking to a corpse. It's not like he ever used his voice when alive either.

With shaky hands he let go of the ghostly pale human, and put them under his arms searching for any kind of warmth. Averting his gaze, he shivered once more.

A strong tremor accompanied by choking, violently shook the crimson stained figure. Out of the corner of his eyes, Wilbur saw even more blood coming from under the mask.

He did not do anything to help the surprisingly alive man, only observed with squinted eyes just like a predator waiting for a reason to strike.

As if they were submerged in the sea, desperate gasps to get some air in one's lungs and muffled words filled the space around them. The Hero looked at the drowning man, face scrunched in disgust.

When the uncontrollable shaking and distorted, wailed sentences became too much, he turned around and teared off the smiling mask off of his enemy's face "What now? Suddenly eager to fight for your life? You damned-"

He froze.

There, teary eyed and with a broke nose, was a familiar face. The face of the civilian who took care of him without asking. Who didn't mind how untrustful he was. Who didn't care about wasting bandages on him.

The face of the man who made him want to scream in hatred and cry of frustration without an end in sight.

The face of the human he just watched almost suffocate in his own blood.

With bitter tears trailing down purple cheeks, red teeth and trembling lips the Villain spoke.

"I'm so sorry"

Blood streaming down the pale chin bubbled one last time and the regretful, green eyes rolled back into the blonde's head.

The Hero stood paralyzed.

[weregreatatcrime]

I'm sick and rereading Two Halves and I know I leave a lot (A LOT) of stuff in the end notes but there's actually lots of stuff I still never mention or talk about so here's a long sick (started at midnight until i fell asleep to keep going now) ramble about things I didn't get the chance to talk about but wanted to (in somewhat of an order reminded by rereading) or at least just some lines I particularly enjoyed

I have medicine drugging me let's do chapter 6 It's a long one, folks, there's a lot that I wanna scream about

In awe that the Donnie kidnapping arc happened at 6. We're at fucking 15 chapters before Donnie goes home. What the fuck. How did this happen

Karai was getting snacks for Stockman and trying to get him to explain how his heart hadn't exploded from energy drinks. Results were inconclusive

Just the fact that Donnie was the only one knew Karai saw them and all he did was just fucking wave sheepishly

This interaction was entirely unintentional from both sides. Turtles didn't mean to find her and Karai didn't intend to be seen in civies

"If Shredder’s willing to hurt her… I just think maybe she'd be more willing to listen if we tried to avoid hurting her too." Leo, honey, my heart

"And Master Splinter won't be so upset his kids are fighting." <- Mikey nailed it on the head. Splinter’s upset about Karai being hurt, but he IS also upset that she's also willing to hurt his sons too. He's very conflicted and upset about the whole situation, but he'd never tell his boys to not defend themselves at the least, and AGH

Karai yeeted the can over the edge of the roof and intended it to hit someone, but she didn't actually aim it very well because it was a blind throw over the edge of a roof. Hitting Raph on the forehead was pure chaotic luck.

Continued running gag of Karai intentionally or unintentionally blinding Leo, this time on accident as energy drink sprayed right into his poor eyes. You should probably just get goggles at this point Leo

Karai, as much as she hates Shredder, does still look to him as a figure she needs to impress and make proud. She approaches this with as much zeal as any changeling and hates that she has to control herself so much to avoid being suspiciously advanced for her age and training

"Humans were so, so far from perfect. Didn't mean she liked having to be imperfect." <- This chapter just has a lot of lines I like tbh

Despite how it may seem, Karai DOES have a good grasp on wounds and how much they NEED to heal before she can begin to push them without risking further injury. It's just that, well, risking further injury is an acceptable cost for... most things

The happiness Karai feels when he gives her permission to take longer to heal. He's showing he cares!! (Oh honey....)

Karai has no intention of taking longer to heal because now she HAS to impress him now by bouncing back faster

I try very carefully to point out when Karai refers to him as Oroku Saki or as Shredder- she's shrewd enough to spot when he's actually caring and showing his humanity, or when he's purely the madman we all love to hate

"Of course I'll kill Stockman" She is absolutely not going to kill Stockman

Karai’s acting is Good. She flat out lies to Shredder’s face multiple times in this scene

Karai actually begins to think of Stockman as HER minion now, including being possessive and protective of him. Shredder doesn't "deserve" him.

Shredder my man, do you know how many scientists you could recruit just by waving funny alien goo in their faces?? You wouldn't even need to pay most of them jfc

"you should never corner a nerd" PREACH Karai. Scientists aren't all passive geeks and soft nerdy bois. They can fuck you up oh my god. That's how you get shit like Iron Man

Mikey’s intuition strikes again- he KNEW tonight was a bad idea and he felt when the first wave of tranq darts was coming. Too bad he doesn't have the training to be able to recognize this as a legit warning and not just him feeling funny

Mikey not knowing what to do and immediately looking to Leo for instructions, only to realize Leo hasn't said anything in a bit *clutches chest*

Dancing Mikey strikes again. Using his intuition and his own natural talent to just. Dodge and flow through combat without taking a hit. I imagine this actually takes a lot out of him as he's actively channeling that intuition ability whether he knows it or not, and it wears him out pretty fast. Like flexing a muscle he doesn't usually intentionally use

Raph the Protector standing over Leo keeping him safe, and Mikey not even hesitating to turn his back to the fight and let Raph cover him because he knows big brother will keep him safe

Leo's kinda semiconscious in this scene. He's not knocked out, but he's definitely not awake. He'll only vaguely remember the events later. Those darts should've knocked him tf out but a mix of mutant biology and Leo's own stubbornness kept him awake to a degree

Mikey stopping to grab Leo's swords for him 😊😊

Leo's symptoms of tranq overdose are about the same as Donnie’s, if anyone was curious. But Donnie has bigger concerns to worry about plus is kinda unable to DO anything else so is able to sleep them off

Longs legs Mcgee in here got crammed into a tiny cage. rip donnies legs

I love writing Donnie. He's a mix of all the perception and knowledge I need to help set the scene without going too expositiony, but also I can manually cut off his stream of thoughts as him just personally redirecting his own rambling. This is great because I, unfortunately, tend to ramble a LOT lmfao

Donnie hasn't had his mask since this and I feel so bad

Kevin Michael Richardson's voice could kill me and I would thank him. The fact that he voices 2k12 Shredder is unholy. This man's voice gives me shivers. I feel so, so bad for every character who has to be menaced by That Voice. I try to emphasize how scary his voice is to the turtles because holy fuck dude

Shredder is enjoying tormenting poor Donnie

I couldn't remember if the turtles actually knew that Stockman was being held against his will via mutagen collar. If they did know tbh, I think they would've at least kinda tried to help?

The needle thingy is pretty much like a mini harpoon, though custom made to have a bomb installed. It's not supposed to go in torsos. Shredder came very close to actually killing Donnie if he happened to accidentally get it into a major vein

"Of course he was crying, like a child. Because he was really badly injured, and he was 15 years old!" A lot of villains seem to forget, not know, or just not care that they're fighting a bunch of kids. Shredder is a mix of all three

The fact that Donnie was thinking of what his brothers would do in his position, realized Raph would try to spit on him, and Donnie immediately tried to do that (he's probably lucky he was too dry mouther, Shredder would've beaten the crap out of him for it)

I love love love writing evil, unhinged monologues so writing Shredder’s insanity was a fucking delight. Poor Donnie

Yes, Shredder’s intentions aren't super clear with Donnie. Yeah, he definitely wants to torture the poor kid. Yes, he DOES need a scientist for the mutagen. But he also is totes cool with just killing him for the funnies. He hasn't decided yet

(This was in part because those pesky cognitive difficulties kicked in while writing the end of this speech and I got mightily confused myself. Later when editing I went back and realized it actually fit pretty well with Shredder’s decreasing sanity, so I cleaned it up a bit and kept it, rather than trying to make him stick to a singular goal)

The injury likely swells up a bunch, putting strain and pressure on most of Donnie’s torso. His lungs have a bit less room than they'd prefer to breathe- that's part of why he struggles with his breathing and lightheadedness

(Insert my First Aid rambles from the end notes in multiple chapters)

When you have an object Inside Your Body in places that things aren't supposed to go, it feels WEIRD. Even disregarding pain- your body's nervous system is entirely different INSIDE your body versus your skin. Worst thing I've ever felt- steroid injection in the foot, Dr poked the INSIDE OF MY SOLES on accident. It was the most invasive horrific feeling because things *aren't supposed to touch that* and personal note to yall- steroid injections are horrible, don't skimp on your foot health

"I love the dichotomy of Karai enjoying [Shredder’s] compliments and striving for his approval while still ABSOLUTELY hating his guts and planning to literally assassinate him."

Shout out to the one commenter who was having a heart attack over Donnie- glad you're okay 🧡🧡🧡

[spirestar]

@heartinhands

Disappointment is a bitter poison. It requires hope to be born, even the smallest trace, and it siphons the life out of whoever it touches. Cam can't help but writhe beneath its weight. She'd never call herself hopeful--I've never had room for wishing things were different--but believing in her own abilities has brought her so far already. To hit a permanent wall now is--She'd rather Beowulf's shade had taken her whole arm and then some. Her father's books weighed heavy on their stolen borrowed mattress, yet another week of squatting in abandoned apartments in the wake of devils, as she pored over them. Vergil said he found something, had to meet with someone--And Cam was sure he'd never come back. It wouldn't be the first time he's disappeared.

It would be the first time since the last guardian tipped them off about the dead end they've hit: Crimson glowing, the whispering of a thousand year old sorrows and rage ringing out like a bell, cold air eking out from him until the monster cackled something wild in its death throes about it being 'broken.' Vergil's face had gone flat and sharp all at once, and Cam peeled herself off its corpse in time to force its not-soul into Rodon's hungry maw. That's probably the only reason she knows the whole story now--There are two halves to one key, the guardians will let him in only if he has both. But that's all she knows. Her asshole partner, as if, keeps the rest close to his chest. As close as he does his amulet and, well, Cam can't blame him for that part, at least. She really should've stolen it from him from the beginning.

When he came back, Cam tried not to look surprised. They've been stuck together long enough that she can see some things in him like that. When he's pissed, mostly, but when he's hiding something underneath it, too. Not by any real effort on her part, though. He's just like that to her. She doubts that goes both ways--Worked on acting like her usual disgruntled self as he tossed a plastic bag of food at her head ( not actually on purpose this time, he's just too damn tall ) and gave an uncharacteristically open explanation of where he'd been. Surprises, full of them, and then:

"You don't actually--" Dark eyes flash like hot metal, steely and molten with anger. God, she can't help it, but her voice stays even and incredulous, even if it takes all her effort. "Did you hit your head or something? You don't really believe some old, convenient fuck is going to help you, do you?" If she and Vergil were any less themselves, she'd almost expect them to start laughing in unison. She says convenient because that's what this dickhead is--Some man who shows up just when Vergil needs him, just when they've learned they can't open the tower themselves. She's sure she's heard him wrong. Is this why he bothered bringing food back? So he could get the few things he made the mistake of leaving behind and really disappear again? ( She expected it, but, but-- ) Cam snaps a protein bar in half and holds it out, hoping to force him to stop packing things while he speaks. The guy hardly fucking remembers to eat when they're not stuck together. Demon metabolism is insane. "Are you just gonna kill him when it's all done?" It feels beyond hypocritical to try and convince him not to take the chance on whatever deal the other man is offering. And Cam doesn't need to say Vergil has likely had the same plan for her from the beginning, if he even sees her as enough of a threat to need to get rid of her eventually. He can certainly try it.

If he leaves--So what? She has to tell herself it won't matter. If she can find the other half of the key, she might not even need him. A key means a lock and locks are meant to be picked open / broken. There can't be only one way to do it. She needs that portal, has to find a way to dominate Rodon's consciousness and destroy its will. If she can't then--then--What is she still alive for at all? Cam clears her throat before taking another bite of the bar and nudging a water bottle toward Vergil's side of the bed. Anything to make this a real conversation. Equal parts. Not just a goodbye. "I know that guy doesn't have the key piece."

[scribeofpnakotis]

📓📓👀

Daingit I should have known it would be you 😂

Um ok here's to WIP hell I guess.

The first one is the OFMD idea I'm pretty sure you know about already but w/e. Basic plot is;

Alma runs away to sea at some point post ep10 but before the Blackbonnet reunion

She is found stowing away on a ship Ed & co are raiding

When asked what she's doing there (obviously rich kid, fairly clean and well fed etc etc) she says she's looking for her dad (just. Pretend this works with how e10 ended.)

In spite of himself, Ed is kind of invested. Life After Stede has been painfully, mind numbingly boring when it isn't just crushingly sad and he's once again desperate for a break in the monotony. Not getting attached this time though, no sir 🤡

There's a background here where since s1 Ed & Izzy's dynamic has gotten just, way more blatantly abusive, with Izzy lashing out with threats and verbal abuse (never in front of the crew) whenever he feels Ed isn't performing 'Blackbeard' convincingly enough. Most of the time, Ed's just dissociating to get through the day.

Anyway Ed decides he wants to help Alma find her dad (he has no idea who he is, she's not giving a name), with the justification to Izzy & the crew that she's obviously rich so her dad will probably pay a huge ransom to get her back.

So then there's an extended period of Alma living on the Revenge with Ed, Izzy, Jim & Frenchie & the rest of the crew

There's cute kid bonding with the crew bc I'm not made of stone, but the primary focus of this part of the story is on the dynamic between Ed, Alma and Izzy

Specifically with it mirroring the dynamic of Ed & his parents growing up

Alma= bb!Ed

Izzy= Ed's dad

Ed= His mum

So then it's Alma's POV of Izzy's abuse of Ed getting worse and eventually starting to spill over to her (Izzy generally fucking hates that there's this rando kid here now and also specifically thinks she's in the way of Ed being Blackbeard properly)

Culmination of the fic is Ed either killing or firing or otherwise doing something to Izzy to protect Alma (thematically it has to be murder but I don't like making my blorbo kill people)

This brings the parallel full circle with Ed protecting the kid he's basically adopted from a shitty violent white man in the way he wishes his mum had been able to protect him from his dad

Generic Blackbonnet Reunion Epilogue

The second idea newer and more vague but basically it's a TMA/Good Omens crossover called 'Hope, Love and Indigestion' (came up with the title first, can you tell?)

Current plot points include;

Aziraphale finds Pinhole Books while searching for a rare bible (leitners that are bibles anyone??)

The Boys(gn) adopt Gerry & exorcise Mary's horrible skin ghost & also get closure for Eric's horrible skin ghost

Something about how the Good Omens 'god' is the inverse of the TMA fear Entities, two halves of a whole that cannot exist without each other as per gomens themes about how binaries are dumb

Angels & demons are the positive entity equivalent of the fear avatars??? Maybe? Somehow?

Also I think Adam Young & Agnes Montague would get on really well

Mostly this is about how I like making A&C adopt traumatised children from other media

[quotidianish]

this is prolly a lil rambly lol

so, years ago, cassian was a fairly normal guy. he had just graduated from college with a degree in quantum mechanics or an adjacent feild of science and was looking for a lab to get a job in.

they ended up getting a job as the assistant of a scientist who, among other things, was trying to beat dell conager to the invention of usable teleportation. this scientist already had somebody else create gumdrop (who probably wasnt actually named that until later but yeah) out of chemicals to be an assistant to them, but they needed a second assistant and the chemistry department of the lab they were working in didnt have enough funds to do it again.

over time, while working together, cassian befreinded gumdrop.

one day, years after cassian was hired, the scientist decided to test the teleporters on themself and cassian (gumdrop was too expensive to create to risk testing anything on). something went wrong. either the teleporters werent actually ready to be tested or they broke.

either way, the experiment ended in the scientist dying and cassian getting stuck in their current state of pseudo-existance. scared of being blamed for the death, cassian fled the scene, rushing to their car and getting out of the city as fast as possible. gumdrop came with because cassian was its best freind and she didnt really know what else it was going to do now that the guy she was created to serve was dead.

for the following year and a half, cassian was unstable (not like, mentally unstable) and actively losing memories. nothing was lost (or was ever going to be lost) that interfered with their basic ability to function and they had no trouble forming new memories, but by the time cassian stabilized they had forgotten pretty much their entire life.

during this whole time period, gumdrop and cassian were kinda just driving aimlessly around the country, picking up odd jobs where they could to pay for food and gas.

eventually, gumdrop, who picked up the combat skills somewhere (they may have just been taught them after being created in case someone broke in and tried to steal them or something), ended up getting asked to perform a hit on someone. it paid very well, to the point where neither of them needed to take on another job for months. so they started actively seeking out merc jobs. once they stabilized, cassian figured that, since gumdrop was a merc, they were too. they didnt really have any of the skills, but they attributed that to the memory loss. so they obtained a sniper rifle and began practicing

after a couple years as mercs, the two of them were eventually picked up by mann co.

since the teleporter accident, cassian and gumdrop's relationship has changed a lot. by the present relative to my oc team, its no longer easily catagorizable as like, a romance or a qpr or a freindship or a familial relationship. whatever their relationship is, to themselves they feel like 2 halves a whole - like they only form a complete person when together. being apart isnt a big deal on the battlefeild, you dont really need to be a complete person to kill. but outside of combat, cassian and gumdrop are almost never seen without eachother.

Man, that’s good stuff. Explains how they feel towards eachother so well, not that their relationship could really be defined as platonic romantic or whatnot, their existence relies on the other because said other is just one half of a hole. Brilliant backstory and wonderful writing my friend, you’ve got a wonderful imagination