#and his struggle with human idioms

[ericscroptop]

Dusk Till Dawn

✧ pairing: vampire bf! juyeon x human gf! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, female receiving, fingering, cursing, kissing, marking, biting, pet names, power play, mentions of blood, vampire au, supernatural au

✦ word count: 2.4k words

✧ synopsis: is dating a vampire all about being loved eternally, or to be used solely as a blood bag?

˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚ ˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚ ˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚ ˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚ ˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚

It was midnight.

Lights in your house were out, save for the lamp by your nightstand that brings some warm-toned illumination to your bedroom.

While the hour is late, a book sat open in your lap, cross-legged in the comfort of your bed. Tiredness hadn’t hit you just yet. Instead, you found the drive to do some light reading before slumber.

Oh how it was a struggle to find motivation to read on your own. It wasn’t until Juyeon came into your life and had inspired you with his wide range of knowledge and introspective thoughts through various texts, that he encouraged you to pick up the books more.

It was like shakespeare whenever he spoke. His vocabulary and intelligence was extensive, and he was also very philosophical. It probably helped that he’d been on earth for decades upon decades, but having the brain he possessed as a man was one in a million.

He was really into classic literature, wanting to share with you all of his favorites. One of them being the famous novella, ‘The Metamorphosis.’

Said novella is what you’re working on finishing, a book that Juyeon has read countless times that he could most likely recite the story word for word.

As you scanned the printed text on the off-white pages, you completely switched into an appropriate headspace. You picked up from where you left off last time, pondering and dissecting the themes of isolation, dehumanization, and nihilism.

As a vampire, you’d guess that Juyeon resonates with Kafka’s writing, and even as a human, you can share some empathy and relate to some aspects as well.

During this dead of night, the only sense of sound came from your breathing being flipping pages and occasionally shifting. The rainfall outside also served as a bit of a soundtrack in the midst of the silence with the pitter-patter of water droplets against the window.

It’s the type of rain that came with peace, not causing much disturbance or obnoxious noise.

At least not until a gust of wind can be heard from outside, something that sounds like leaves rustling and being carried through the air.

It tickles your ears with attention, directing your profile towards the window although it’s dark out and curtains draped over it.

You don’t fret since it’s just the weather, but you’re home alone tonight, making you extra alert towards the slightest bit of noise.

From the left side of your peripheral, you sensed some movement, maybe a bug of some sort. But when you turned to it, there’s nothing there; Your mind’s just playing tricks on you.

You resume your focus back to your book, face falling back into the pages just for a split second before double taking upwards when you felt the presence of a shadowy figure in front.

“God! Juyeon! You scared the shit of me!”

You swear your heart stopped for a couple seconds while you shrieked, heart jumping out from your chest at the jump-scare of your boyfriend’s sudden appearance, as if he came out from thin air.

Juyeon chuckles at your usage of the vulgar idiom, smile so sinister as if he’s here to prey on you. Well… who knows where the night will lead.

“You’d think you’d be used to this by now.” he says casually, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against to walk towards you.

“Yeah, ‘cause sneaking into people’s houses randomly is sooo normal.” you rolled your eyes, voice full of sarcasm. Your expression told that you were a mixture of pissed and startled, face distressed and pulse still racing.

“I’m a vampire, darling. You know nothing is normal about me.” one of his large hands lands on the top of your head, patting it softly before thumbing at your locks.

His slender but strong frame looked down at your own through his sharp eyes. Your cheeks were flushed with hot ears from the unexpected surprise visit, but inevitably your eyes softened upon his touch, looking so small while cozied-up in bed.

“So what are you still doing up late, huh?” he points, although you two have this same conversation every time.

For Juyeon, it was witching hour; He thrived the most during nightfall, able to live freely while most humans are knocked out.

He’d visit you, sneaking into your room during the ungodly hours to check up on you. Sometimes, you’d be like how you were now, reading a book or doing some other activity until your brain checked out for the night. Other times, you actually were asleep, and he’d watch for a bit, the way your chest would rise and fall after every breath and the tired, soft moans that’d come out alongside your body snuggling deeper into the covers.

“Wasn’t tired. Almost done with this book so i’m anxious to finish it.”

“My parents are out of town y’know? You could’ve just told me you were wanting to come over.”

He smirks and tsks, lifting his hand away from your hair.

“And where’s the fun in that?”

Now that he’s here, he settles by removing his shoes and the leather jacket that didn’t serve any purpose of warmth given that he’s technically dead, it was just merely for fashion.

Underneath that leather, he wore a tight-fitted charcoal grey top that ended right where his forearm began. It emphasized his broad, strong chest and highlighted his pecs, practically bulging out from the material.

He managed to insert himself behind you, situating yourself in between his legs, your back meeting his firm chest.

Your heart beat grows stronger once he’s invited himself into your bed, holding you close. Oddly, his cold-blooded body sends warmth radiating all over you, blood vessels in your face dilating and giving your skin a rosy tint.

He reaches for your book that ended up pushed aside to hand it to you, uttering tenderly for you to continue reading peacefully in his arms.

So you comply. He sits upright against your headboard and you melted into his body, leaned back, using his chest as a headrest.

Picking up from where you left off, the smell of lignin wafts into your nostrils, musty with a hint of vanilla and nostalgia. Juyeon’s rugged hands land on your thighs, thumbs brushing over your flesh soothingly while you read.

You were simply reading, but it was everything to him. Your attention remained on the book in your hands; Glasses perched on your nose, dealing with the inconvenience of having to push them up every so often, and the tiredness you blinked away at with the more paragraphs you followed.

It was beyond domestic and cozy to be in bed like this with Juyeon. Regardless of being an undead creature of the night, he was your safe haven. Weirdly enough, his supernatural abilities and strong desire for you made you feel serene. Now that you’re resting against him, you could easily fall asleep.

Juyeon was utterly fascinated with you. He vowed to you and himself to protect you from the worst of the world, treasuring you like a prized gem.

But as much as he strives to protect you, he also is one of the dangers that poses threat to you.

There’s only one thing that drives him to sustain his existence more than you:

Blood.

Instinctively, his lips gravitate towards the pulse point on your neck. He brushes his lips with the faintest touches, then begins to kiss along your skin sensually.

A smirk stretches the lips that tease your neck as he hears you peep out a hushed moan. That encourages him to persist with his lips, cherishing your sensitive soft skin and flesh.

“Juyeon.” you warn, still gripping your book but eyes and brain unfocused once he starts to suck and pull your skin, him humming in amusement.

Subconsciously you find yourself angling your neck into his mouth, shifting and squeezing your legs together from the sensual attention.

It was so easy for you to succumb and give into his needs, especially when you were languid during these hours and like putty when in his hands.

You fall blissfully for his charisma and seductive mischief. Even when you attempt to reprimand him again for disrupting your time and allowing a hand to follow a familiar path under your bottoms, once he slips it underneath, you become distracted with the pleasure that comes with it.

“Ju— mhm.” your hips buck into his fingers when he presses your clit over your damp panties, your hand loosening on the book completely and letting it drop to the side.

The pressure applied through the thin layer has your bud swelling, chills wavering down your spine, hips and core eager for more attention.

“Like that?” he chuckles lowly, giving your clothed clit a couple more generous rubs before finally breaking the barrier to drip his fingers into your panties. He tickles your folds with the pads of his fingers, feeling your moistness through every rub.

You whimpered pathetically, head falling back into one of his shoulders, noises of desperation leaving your chapped lips.

He noses your cheeks, feeling the warmth of your blood rush to the apples of them and smiling devilishly as a result.

His lips brush your tinted skin, kissing you fondly while his fingers inch up into your hole, evidently making you cry out when they push up and against your tight walls.

Juyeon gives you what you want knowing that you’ll give something else to him in turn without hesitating, addicted to his erotic touches.

His face ends up back in the crook of your neck, inhaling sharply with a rumbly groan, still playing with your pussy lazily. His teeth nip at your neck, coloring your skin dark red even with his fangs not out yet.

“You smell so good, baby.” he’s salivating, thirst for your hemoglobin making his throat dry and feel as if it’s on fire. He swallows hard, hungry eyes reflecting a deep red shade.

The pleasing duo of fingering your hole and loving up on your neck gives you a rush, making the beating and pumping of your heart heightened.

Thump. Thump. Thump. The ringing and feeling of your heart pumping the blood was basically taunting him, calling to him.

Hunger gnaws hard at him, the monster inside of him compelled to feed on you.

“Gonna let me have a bite, angel?”

Every tender nip, kiss into your neck, and curl of digits inside your cunt drives your clarity down and urge for more high. Stupidly, you nod your head impatiently with a breathy ‘yes,’ needing that stimulating, high sensation.

“Need more than that, baby. Need to hear it.” Juyeon reminds you, tone like a command. As much as his throat and body was rippling with an animalistic appetence, it was your green light or he’d back off achingly.

“Bite me, Juyeon. I’m all yours.” your voice is breathy, choking on need and lust.

This isn’t your first rodeo. You needed him just as much as he needed you. To have your neck abused and used, submitting to him to have your blood consumed. A testament for one another’s love and bond. Or to others, just an easy snack. His favorite one.

That’s what he needed to hear. His fangs emerged from hiding, your precious heart going nuts when the bloodthirsty canines graze where he’s marked a million times, working you up while his fingers are still digging and curling deep inside your hole.

And then a loud gasp from you gets choked midway, core tightening and pulsing hard once his razor sharp, needle-like teeth pierce your neck.

You shudder with a silent cry from the initial burning sensation of his fangs before it evolves into a numbing sensation, your body going into shock and pussy bursting out cum from the harsh, delectable impact.

Your crimson liquid gets sucked into his mouth, immediately giving him fuel and eyes of the same color glowing with greed. The syrupy blood of yours is sweet and rich to the taste, so good that he growls in ecstasy.

Taking in your blood provides him with an energizing feeling that gives him life again, sucking your own life and color from your body.

Right now, he is the opposite of gentle, soft, and humane. The monster that he truly is reigns, preying on you unrelentingly. You clenched down on his fingers hard from the double pleasure that attacks you. To him, your cries were distant from how choked back they were and from his body not processing anything that isn’t the taste of your blood. You were suffocating beautifully, in a drug-like daze as he takes and takes from you.

“So fucking good. My darling little angel.” he whispers, removing his fingers to move those very digits up to your parted lips, smearing your slick and release all over them messily. All you can do is whimper and moan lowly, punch-drunk and energy out the window.

Juyeon continues to sink into your skin, sucking, swallowing, and gulping down everything he could. You were irresistible. That blood of yours travelled smoothly into his mouth, landing on his tongue and falling down his throat. It was raw and insatiably thrilling, drowning in all the thick liquid you had to offer.

Unfortunately it wasn’t long before you became loopy, body growing limp in his hold. He was nearly draining you dry, the color from your face leaving and giving you a pale look.

Even as he feasted on you with determination, he knew exactly how much he could test your limits. Juyeon needed his source of strength and toothsome thirst quencher, but he needed you alive more.

He retracts his fangs back, leaving two, reddish-brown puncture marks that ooze blood. Some of it trickles down the length of your neck, to which he cleans the trail with his tongue, as well as the wound he’s left behind.

Savoring the last few drops, you stop bleeding after his wet muscle’s saliva ceases more blood from coming out with magical properties due to his supernatural anatomy.

By the end of it, your eyes struggle to stay open. Lacking energy, your eyelids are droopy, brain and vision foggy as a good portion of your blood has been consumed and drawn out.

Juyeon allows you to rest in his arms for a moment, kissing your hair and forehead with his blotted lips stained with your blood. He pushes past the unsettling guilt he dealt with after every time he sucked at your skin, looking at your unconscious form, breaths softer now.

It was only in his nature after all.

˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚ ˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚ ˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚ ˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚ ˚ ཐི ⋆ ☥ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚

[vagabond-umlaut]

l'heure bleue

Ferocious, fearsome, infallible. The King Of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna, has never fought a war he hasn't won.

But, does that mean he'll taste success in this battle of beliefs, raging against no one but his Queen, as well?

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; sooo much of tooth-rotting! domestic fluff between sukuna & reader; sukuna is so exhausted, still so fond of his dear wife; said wife is not too soft towards her husband [she has valid reasons, dw]; talks on death; indirect talk on periods & pregnancy; 0% ANGST IN THIS– ONLY FLUFFY HUMOR; spoiler alert— would-be-dad!sukuna x would-be-mom!reader

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"I'm dying. Very soon."

While not the deep kiss you've always welcomed him with, into your chambers, every night of your married life— Sukuna reckons, he will take this many many times over the tense hush you've been offering him these days.

Shrugging his heavy cloak off his shoulders, the King of Curses walks over to where you're on the bed and frowns, fingers moving to thread through your unkempt hair, then run down the side of your face. Your eyes flutter close for a beat– undoubtedly, from the gentle caress, he surmises– before they grow wide open, blinking with tears of fear.

Rubbing the pad of his thumb over your wobbling lower lip, your lover sighs, knowing full well where this conversation might be going– still, as always, he decides to humor your concerns with an ask of his own.

"Did my Queen visit the royal physician, along with Uraume today?"

"No," you shake your head meekly, "I did not visit the physician. I was resting in our room the entire day."

"If you weren't feeling well, you could have asked her to visit you here, right?" your husband queries, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. Snuggling into him with a soft hum, you send a miserable look his way— eliciting something eerily similar to the emotions, your husband knows, no curse like him should ever be able to feel.

Yet here he is, feeling every one of those, with his wife in his grasp.

You shake your head a second time; however, with greater force than before. "No. I knew I would be dying soon but I did not want to hear it from her. I wanted you to tell me that awful news, my king. I love you, I wanted you to say it. To confirm it."

You love him, so he must confirm your imminent death!?!?— Stunned by your odd words of reasoning, Sukuna gapes at you, dumbfounded; before he shakes himself free of the shock, discerning you to be three words, or even less, away from dissolving into your pathetic wails.

He smooths the top of your head with a palm, whilst another palm of his squeezes your hip, hoping the action will bring you some comfort. You place a small palm over the latter, voice growing shaky when you say, "Won't you confirm the terrible news, my lord?"

"No," Sukuna's quick to deny you in an instant, "Because I firmly don't believe you're anywhere close to dying. You're as healthy as a horse— or whatever idiotic creature, you humans use in your idiotic idioms."

A facsimile of a smile threatens to erupt onto your lips— it is vanished before the next second— with you crumbling into a mess of tears and snot, face pressed into his chest, whilst your fingers dig into his back.

Sukuna stifles a weary sigh, before wrapping his arms gingerly round your midsection, taking extra care not to jostle you or anything. "You aren't dying anytime soon, my Queen," he struggles to coo, but ends up grumbling, "I won't let you ever leave my side– you stupid woman. You're stuck with me forever– don't I always tell you that, my Queen?"

"You do, Sukuna," you mumble, with a weak nod of your head, "But I do feel so close to dying every moment of the day— so weak and so dizzy and so nauseous– even you've become so careful with me, my king!" you exclaim, red-rimmed swollen eyes glaring accusingly into every ruby eye of his.

Filling him with an addicting thrilling delight he has never felt before.

"You've always been so rough with me— Now, when you're being so gentle with me, out of nowhere, tell me: must the implication of you thinking me to be fragile, along with those awful symptoms– not be worrisome? Must I not think, you consider me to be near my death– hence, this newfound wariness? Hence, you, and even Uraume, who has always been so free to speak their mind before me– the both of you walking on stupid fucking eggshells around me– tell me, 'Kuna!"

A silence punctuates your outburst, filled only by the sounds of your noisy breathing– the latter replacing the sounds of your crying.— An odd yet not unpleasant, emotion taking over the shape of his mouth and curving it upwards, Sukuna drags a finger down your backbone, relishing in the way you shiver, then relax with a sigh under his touch.

Letting your temper to ebb away for another good minute, your lover inquires, keeping his tone void of anything except curiosity, "When is the last time you used your pain-relieving bath salts, pet?"

Your eyes blinking slowly, Sukuna watches them travel to the cabinet where you keep them stored in stacks, before returning to him, quite puzzled. And fatigued.

Adorably small yawns escaping, you murmur.

"I only use them when it's that time of month, which was..." Your eyes flutter open and close, painfully slowly, yet again— before they widen, becoming not unlike the full moon in the sky tonight.

You gasp, shaky fingers poking your belly before reaching a rest on it.

Covering them with his much larger ones, your lover hums, "Happy?"

"Not at all," you shake your head, reaching your other hand to trail the many tattoos on your husband's face, before stopping at the apple of his cheek.

Sukuna swears time ceases to exist in the momentary pause you take— restored only by the blinding beam you offer next, followed by your sweet voice uttering those words, he knows he'll remember for all the millennia he will live.

"I'm very, very happy— you dummy prehistoric curse."

▸ masterlist

[nerdygaymormon]

Matt Bowman says that the LDS Church is sometimes critiqued for its conformity, but he thinks there are different ways of understanding the faith, different emphases and different visions of what the church might be. And these will be seen at General Conference.

Matt doesn't think that these various visions of what the church might be are mutually exclusive, and he thinks the leaders he names as the most emblematic of each vision of what the church can be would say that actually they’d identify with two or three or all of the categories.

By thinking about the influence of these leaders and these different approaches, perhaps we also can get a glimpse of where the LDS Church might move in the future.

The Church of Effort

President Russell M. Nelson’s sermons consistently have emphasized effort, trying harder, doing better, “thinking celestial.” His most controversial sermon links divine blessings to human behavior and argues that the fulness of those blessings derives from doing what's right. It's an appeal to reach our divine potential through proper belief and right behavior. Of course, it also presumes that humans can, theoretically, always choose to do right.

The Church of Natural Law

The idea behind natural law is that God created a universe which functions through knowable principles that could be learned by scientific investigation as well as divine revelation. That investigation would reveal a natural order of things built into the fabric of the world itself. As humans learn that order, they can conform to it and be happy.

Dallin H. Oaks, first counselor in the church’s governing First Presidency, has a reputation as perhaps the most consistent defender of “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” among the current general authorities. That document is steeped in the language of natural law. It does not merely state that God prefers human families to function in a certain way; it argues that, in fact, the universe is set up such that families who function in that way will thrive while those who do not will struggle.

For Oaks, a lawyer by training, these sorts of arguments, with their if-then constructions, their neat definition of terms, and their rational procession, are irresistible. He speaks of principles and rules, the comprehensible structure of a universe that functions according to clear law.

“To understand the teachings and examples of our Savior, we must understand the nature of God’s love and the eternal purpose of his laws and commandments,” Oaks teaches. “One does not replace or diminish the other.”

The Church of Grace

The idea here is that divine grace is not something earned but rather a gift that can bridge the gaps of human frailty and heal human weakness. President Emily Belle Freeman, head of the global Young Women organization, is the Latter-day Saint leader most fluent in this dialect. Her career before becoming a church officer was built on interfaith dialogue with evangelicals, and her writing and teachings are drenched with evangelical idioms — not merely in content but also in style. She calls for a personal relationship with Christ that provides healing, advances spiritual power and comes in great abundance. She speaks the language of dramatic intensity characteristic of Protestant evangelicals but increasingly appealing to Latter-day Saints who turn to their faith for aid in overcoming challenges.

“In that place where you feel bound, plead for his grace. Trust that it is available in abundance,” Freeman teaches. “Jesus Christ sees you. He can help you overcome.”

The Church of Community

This is a vision of the church that emphasizes its communal aspects. To be a member is, in part, to take the sacramental bread and water on Sundays, but most of all to look after each other by contributing labor and resources to the well-being of the community, such as visiting people in the hospital or those who are lonely.

The titles of three of apostle Gerrit W. Gong’s recent conference addresses share a similar focus on the church as a community of mutual care. In April 2021, he spoke on “Room in the Inn,” analogizing the church to the inns of the New Testament. There he asked members to “make [the Lord’s] inn a place of grace and space, where each can gather, with room for all.” In October 2023, he elaborated on the lyrics to the hymn “Love Is Spoken Here,” describing the ideal ward as a place where love is evident through service. That April, in a talk called “Ministering,” he stated “think of your ward or branch as a spiritual ecosystem.” For Gong, the church is a series of bound covenant relationships among humans as much as between humans and God. He emphasizes the social aspects of religious life, seeing salvation coming through bonds with one another.

[cleopatraphouse]

Top nine Wormfics (as picked by someone who has read over a thousand Wormfics)

(I know Wormblr can be kinda tight-knit so please don't feel bad if you're not on the list.)

9. Wink

(x)

By: Idiom Alpha

Status: Dead. 29K words.

Summary: Post- Gold Morning, a small-time band of villains struggle to survive in post-apocalyptic America.

Gold Morning and its consequences are fairly underrepresented in Wormfic. Even the fics set on Gimel tend to feature it as more of a new settler town than a ‘rebuilding after the end’ Eaden. Part of the reason is the relative newness of Ward, part of the reason is the relative badness of Ward; but let’s be honest, a lot of the reason is that post-Gold Morning there’s no Taylor. And no one reads Wormfics without Taylor.

Wink doesn’t have Taylor, except vaguely in the background of a flashback scene. And it’s really really good anyway.

After a slow bit at the start of chapter one, we get to see into a fully realized scavenger civilization Earth Bet. Some towns exist, held together by capes or regular human grit and spit. But most of the world’s population has died or relocated. But it’s not really a sad story, as dark as the subject matter gets at times. The narration (given by OC cape Bystander, whose deal I’ll leave as a surprise) is purposefully light and jovial. Example sentence: “You know, I think the funniest part about the apocalypse is that it left everyone with a lot of free time.”. This has the dual purpose of giving the exposition pizzazz and personality, while making the emotional moments that come later hit harder.

Speaking of. So, like, I have autism (and a couple of other things but that’s the important one here). I don’t know exactly how severe it is on a scale of one to ten, but it does make my life difficult. I’m not sure how much detail is appropriate to give here (yknow, because of the autism), so I’ll keep things vague. Suffice to say that many things are difficult for me that I really really wish weren’t.

I bring this up because the most seen I’ve ever felt, as an autistic person, was reading Finale in Ward. (Even though she gets called not-autistic in the same chapter...)

The second most seen I’ve ever felt is reading Sentiment’s interlude in Wink.

I’m not going to give the whole thing away, but the line where her brother tells her to be normal, and the narration follows up with “Kinneret tried being normal. It wasn't a very fun game, but she played it for years. It didn't help her make any friends.” Yeah. Yeah, that’s real shit. Way realer than that one Questionable Content strip which still bugs me years later even though it’s not important or relevant at all.

The fic unfortunately died shortly after the plot started actually picking up. Thankfully the chapters are fairly substantial. An arc for Bystander is successfully conveyed, even if it’s not the fully realized arc that was clearly being built to. There are even twists! And there’s some pretty good art, drawn by the author.

Idiom Alpha has written a bunch of Wormfics! Sadly literally all of them are dead. They’re still really good though! My favorites are Not Looking Forward To It (which has my favorite takes on Dinah and Flor), Lean (which has my favorite take on Noelle), and Don’t Do Brains! (which has the only ending Idiom ever wrote even though it’s officially unfinished).

8. Santa-Assault And Imp The Elf: Christmas Carnage

(x)

By: Rukaio Alter

Status: Complete. 79K words.

Summary: Assault just wants to teach Imp the meaning of Christmas in his own roguish way. When he’s kidnapped by The Elite, she gets dragged along and triggers, which might be what they need if they’re going to escape.

There are perhaps a surprising amount of Christmas-themed Wormfics (Visited By Three Villains and The House Of Mortal Clay spring to mind as choice picks). This is the best one though, partially because it’s more Home Alone than Prep And Landing. While Christmas is inherent to the plot, set dressing, and even themeing; the fic is not trapped by being ‘a Christmas fic’. While there is a “saving Christmas” bend to the plot and imagery, it’s more just a very very well written story about two strangers trying their best to save some kids with cancer from supervillains... during Christmas, while dressed as Santa and an elf. It’s a fun ride at any time of year. I read it slowly to savor it.

This is easily my favorite take on Assault. I mean, the portrayal of Imp is really good too, but this is the version of Assault that the other fic!Assaults wish they were. Roguish and irreverent without being uncaring, goodnatured and upbeat without being saccharine, and burdened by his past without being maudlin; Christmas Carnage is able to fully explore and flesh out a character relatively underutilized by canon. And yes, there’s more to his relationship with Battery than sitcom tropes. We even get to see him as an angsty kid!

People completely allergic to cheese probably won’t be able to tolerate the sillier moments, the jokes can get goofy. (Sample joke: “You said it made me look professional!” / “And you were stupid to believe me.”) It’s a fairly deft management of tone though, it never slips into outright farce even when the comedic explosions start up. And Ruk gives most of the serious parts (even a tearjerker or two) room to breathe.

Some of the fight scenes maybe lack some of the impact they should have (Ruk has a bad habit of starting action paragraphs with discourse filler words). That’s just kinda something you gotta accept, treat it like part of the shonen-esque action-comedy the fic is clearly modeled after.

I really wanna stress that this could have easily just been a silly crackfic, the title even wants you to think that. But instead there’s really tight plotting, moments building naturally from character interaction, lots of setups and brick jokes, and subtle background worldbuilding. A few of the payoffs are admittedly easy to see coming, but they’re still fun. And I’m not gonna spoil it, but the ending did give me that warm holiday-with-friends feeling.

Ruk is probably most known for his Unimaginatively Titled Worm Snippet Collection, which has some of the most creative and good short stories in the fandom. I’m specifically shouting out “Screenbug” and all his takes on Contessa. He’s also done an enjoyable-if-a-bit-underseasoned crossover with Columbo, Just One More Thing, Mr. Anders...; and the weirdly problematic crossover, Brian Laborn: Ace Attorney. Outside the fandom, he ran an original fiction and review blog for a few years, and has done stuff in a couple other fandoms I’m not in.

7. The Postdiluvian Road

(x)

By: Aleph (Immatrael) & EarthScorpion

Status: Complete, with a sequel hopefully on the way eventually. 115K words.

Premise: In a timeline where Leviathan wipes Brockton Bay off the map, Lisa and Taylor go on the run together as the only surviving Undersiders.

This is technically a shipfic, but don’t let that color your preconceptions too much. This is a story about Lisa and Taylor getting to the point where they might wanna date, but that’s not the main events occurring. They don’t even kiss. Taylor thinks a lot about Lisa’s lips, and Lisa confesses to a sleeping Taylor that she’ll always be there for her. It’s a very slow burn, is what I’m saying.  But it’s not plotless, it’s not a coffeeshop AU (as much as I enjoy Coffee Machines And Golden Mornings); the whole story is character development skillfully interlaced with conflict scenes.

In the hands of less artistic writers, the Leviathan attack would be an easy excuse to get two characters alone. That’s not what happens here. TPR completely commits to the premise. Just as every canon chapter set in post-Leviathan Brockton is soaked in filthy water and supply chain problems, every moment of TPR is suffocated in paranoia and desperation. This is, as a result, the fic on this list that keeps most closely to Worm’s apocalyptic tone. Lisa is never sure that Coil’s really dead, that she’s really free. Taylor never stops grieving her dad. Brief moments of respite feel less like breaks than they do pauses. Every bit of emotional development comes after struggling to find food and a place to sleep.

One of my favorite aspects comes when Lisa and Taylor are trying to get some quick cash. They steal some suitcases, one of which contains some mysterious vials. They throw the vials out because they only want the money and the vials are worthless to them. Obviously, the reader knows they’re Cauldron vials, but the story never feels the need to point it out. And it wasn’t just a thrown in detail, it sets a group of capes after them. Lisa and Taylor are stumbling through other stories that we only get snippets of. The world is real and big and scary, but maybe these two can find safety in each other’s arms.

This fic also features the most subtle and tasteful Simpsons reference I think I’ve ever read. Keep an eye out!

I’ve seen people say that TPR!Skitter is weaker than she should be, but I think that can be chalked up to her having less grounding, less familiarity with the environment, and less backup. All she’s got is whatever bugs are around her and a squishy thinker to protect, she doesn’t even have a base to build up stores. There are understandable reasons for Taylor to be the underdog, is what I’m saying.

The fic is wrong about Niagara Falls, though. Niagara Falls is goddamn beautiful.

I am given to understand that this is only part one, and that a part two is or was meant to come out some day. Even if that doesn’t happen, we still have is a complete story of two girls who gradually realize they might wanna be gay in between doing crimes, and I think that’s great.

Aleph and EarthScorpion previously collaborated on Impurity, a Taylor alt-power Wards fic that to be honest I didn’t get much out of. EarthScorpion also wrote a crossover with a video game I’ve never played, and Aleph contributed some interlude chapters to something called Silence Is NOT Consent!.

6. Silence Is NOT Consent!

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By: JustAnotherCat (justanothercatgirl) and Aleph (Immatrael)

Status: On hiatus. 310K words.

Premise: After the Slaughterhouse Nine leave Brockton Bay, Skitter finds Amy having wretch’d Victoria, forces her to undo the physical damage, and takes Victoria in.

This is a hard one to talk about. There’s so much discourse attached to Amy’s character already that mentioning her becomes a minefield. Add on SINC’s brutally honest depictions of the aftereffects of rape on the victim, and I’m just painfully, painfully aware that if I don’t write this right everyone will (justifiably) get mad at me. 

So, what I’m going to say is that I think this is a horrifically accurate portrayal of severe PTSD. If you are lucky enough to be neurotypical, I imagine parts might seem unrealistic or unintentionally comedic. No. That’s what it’s like. Or, yknow, as far as I’m capable of understanding. Basically every chapter has some kind of gut punch, where Victoria again realizes how she’s still being affected by her trauma. It is uncomfortable and horrible and real.

But even besides all the heavy stuff, this has a great portrayal of Taylor and Victoria. The story’s written first person, from Victoria’s perspective, and it’s so great to see her act as a kind of straight man to Skitter’s usual deranged determination. This is the most in-character Taylor I’ve ever seen in a Wormfic, how she’s constantly going to eleven for the greater good, even when and ESPECIALLY when it’s unwarranted. One of my favorite moments comes shortly after the Rachel interlude: an uncontrolled emotion power goes off without warning during a negotiation; Taylor pretends she did it on purpose; and Victoria watches, bewildered. It’s funny, dramatic, and characterful all at once.

I will say I respectfully disagree with some of the decisions regarding Alec and Aisha, although I understand why those decisions were made and get how they fit thematically. In general the side characters are noticeably weaker than the main duo (although I think this is my favorite ever take on Charlotte). See the Brian interlude for what I mean. It’s a worthy portrait, sure, I agree with the author’s note that Brian doesn’t get enough love in fic. But does it go as deep into his character as it could?

The worldbuilding, however, is a highlight, fleshing out Brockton just that little bit. I particularly enjoy the details about the entrance to Skitter’s lair. It never feels expositiony either, every line of description comes off as an in-character observation from someone desperately trying to keep her shit together. And as the story progresses, so too does Victoria’s familiarity with her new situation, leading to my favorite Taylor/Victoria pairup. Like The Postdiluvian Road, this is not a romance story so much as it is a survival story that happens to include learning to trust again. It is bleak, sad, beautiful, and even occasionally funny and cute.

Silence Is NOT Consent! is currently on indefinite hiatus, sadly. But even if it never comes back, it’s well, WELL worth reading, even if you haven’t cried to "Body Terror Song" by AJJ.

justanothercatgirl also has a one-shot collection (which has my favorite depiction of Shatterbird) and shockingly little else. I hope she’s writing other things in her spare time, because I’m not kidding when I say the world needs voices like hers.

5. Intercession

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By VigoGrimborne

Status: Complete. 189K words.

Premise: Post-Gold Morning, Taylor is Isekai’d by Contessa into the Harry Potter universe, and given an infant Harry Potter to raise.

I'm a little reluctant to mention this one; apparently the author is uncomfortable with the amount of attention it got. Also it’s a Harry Potter crossover, and fuck J.K. Rowling. But like, the story is really good. REALLY good! Don’t get mad at me, I’m a transgirl, I know how bad Harry Potter is!

I had no idea how badly I needed to see Taylor Hebert being a good mom, or, for that matter, to see Harry Potter vehemently defending an adoptive parent. The fic isn’t perfect, there are certain comedic moments that just fall flat for me (the most forced ‘Taylor's boobs’ joke outside of canon). But that doesn’t matter. This is close to the platonic ideal of the ‘Taylor gets isekai’d post-Gold Morning’ fic. And it has really good pacing thanks to it being planned out in advance, almost every chapter feels like a nearly-complete story on its own. Other writers, take notes.

Other writers should also take note of how Taylor doesn’t waltz into the situation and immediately beat everyone else. There’s actual tension and stakes as she struggles to deal with magic for the first time, to shake off the rust and get back into combat. Even when she wins, it still has that skin-of-her-teeth desperation to it that Worm did so well.

Tellingly, a lot of the worse parts you’ll want to skip on a reread are the parts most rooted in Harry Potter canon. Harry’s first perspective chapter detailing his first three years at Hogwarts is great, but the parts spent at Ron’s house are pretty inconsequential. Maybe it was meant for the people who didn’t come from the Worm side of the fandom crossover? Harry’s classmates, at least, are given actual personalities and arcs totally absent from the books.

Credit must be given to the romantic pairing. VG somehow, miraculously, managed to make Taylor Hebert x Sirius Black not only a not-creepy pairing, but a straight-up great match. This isn’t teenage Taylor shacking up with an adult; this is Taylor as an adult mother, fully prepared to kill Sirius if his roguish charm starts negatively impacting her son.

VigoGrimbone also has a collection of side stories, outtakes, and rewrites called Of Summoning Snakes And Sorting Hats, definitely a must-read if you like Intercession even a little bit; and a collection of Worm one-shots called Chunks Of Worm, which features my favorite Amy/Lisa pairup in one story.

4. Mixed Feelings

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By Kittius

Status: Dead. 1M words.

Premise: In a slight AU, before canon start, an OC named Astrid (not to be confused with Aster) triggers after years of abuse from her Nazi father.

I found this one thanks to ColossalMistake plugging it in an interview they did, and I'm honestly flabbergasted that I hadn't heard about it before. It's straight up brilliant. Is it the one million plus wordcount that's making people rec it so infrequently? Is it the unashamed British slang that keeps making it into the dialogue of ostensibly-American characters? All I know is that Mixed Feelings is astonishingly good.

It would be irresponsible of me to not address the length. This story is a million words long even before we add in the 50K of sidestory and the other 50K of author-written apocrypha. And no, it did not need to be that long. A million words into Worm and we had at least fifteen arcs and all that entails. A million words into Mixed Feelings and we’ve had five arcs, a few fights, and one major character breakthrough.

Some of the wordcount is justified. Astrid is constantly repeating certain phrases in her head (“There is always a basement.”, “Failure is always punished.”) and this is great! It really gives you the claustrophobic feeling of being controlled which she’s dealt with her whole life. It’s like SINC, only it’s CPTSD instead of PTSD. Some of the wordcount is... less justified. The Emma interlude goes on for three parts, the Battery interlude goes on for five, and both could have made their points in two. And just skip the Testing, Testing sidestory. Even back in the main story, I do not care about Kid Win’s relationship fumbles.

It’s worth pushing through though. For one thing, the worldbuilding is fucking incredible. Astrid was raised by her Nazi father to be a child soldier, and this is reflected in how she sees the world. So we as readers get to see how the Wards HQ works, from the workout room to the cafeteria to the Youth Guard advocates. But we don’t just see them, we see them through her viewpoint. Sometimes this adds a tinge of comedy, like with her continued bewilderment that other people are engaging in decadent behaviors like eating candy or making jokes. Other times it adds little dramatic flairs, like when she’s incapable of understanding that “punishment” does not mean “extreme physical abuse”. The world feels real and lived in, with PRT foot soldiers irritatedly gossiping about Assault’s criminal past, Carlos sadly reminiscing over his dead boyfriend, and the Youth Guard desperately and futilely trying to stop more superpowered children from dying.

The overall mood is dark, which partially comes from Astrid’s fucked worldview and her slow healing process, but it also comes from looking straight on at what the Empire Eighty-Eight would actually be like. Worm justifiably gets flack for having a depiction of Nazism that’s only slightly more real than Raiders Of The Lost Ark. Mixed Feelings has a depiction of Nazism that’s clearly had research put into it. Pay attention to how an OC villain is clearly based on ‘women are property’ incel screeds, without it ever being actually spelled out. And as horrific and disturbing as the depictions of Nazism are, they’re probably as respectful towards the real-world victims as possible. And the best part is that the fic repeatedly, repeatedly shows that growing up as a Nazi (even unwillingly) is actively killing Astrid. She is almost totally incapable of functioning in the real world, because every interaction is filtered through trying not to be hurt. Her actual body is failing on her, because of her father’s lifelong abuse. You just wanna give her a hug. Except you don’t, cause she’d flinch at the sudden movement. I can relate!

Mixed Feelings has my favorite take on Piggot and Carlos, as well as Rennick, for what that’s worth. But the real star of the show is Amy. She’s such a bitch, to EVERYONE, it’s great! If you’re a big Ward fan I imagine you won’t love her as much as I do, but for anyone who’s able to imagine Amy Dallon happy, here she is, miserable and annoyed and taking it out on whoever is nearby at the time.

The author’s notes are super neat too, going into why they made certain decisions based off of offhand dialogue from across the whole of Worm.

All that said, it is funny how there’s NO EFFORT AT ALL put into making the story seem American. I learned like fifty British slang terms from my readthrough. Not that it affects the quality of the story, but it is funny to imagine American teenagers in 2011 casually saying things like “all and sundry”.

Kittius also has a snippet thread, which includes some non-Worm stories that are pretty nifty, although the overall quality is, to be honest, variable.

3. The Great Escape

(x)

By ColossalMistake

Status: Dead. 106K words.

Premise: Eidolon must deal with the loss of his reputation due to the revelations during the Echidna fight, while at the same time attempting to help with a total breakout from the Birdcage.

Apparently this was made partially as a self-challenge by the author. ‘Is it possible to make Eidolon interesting?’. And If that story is true, this is one of the biggest slam dunks in writing challenge history. Absolute knocking it out of the park. This goes beyond “my favorite take on Eidolon” to “I now want to read more Eidolon fics”.

Eidolon here is a tragic superman. He’s tormented not just by his diminishing powers, but also by his pact actions in Cauldron and his impotence in the face of larger societal structures. The Great Escape has a lot to say about the actual nature of power. Early on, Eidolon briefly tries finding escapees manually before giving up and having Doormaker send him where he needs to go. This is after he’s kicked out of his homebase in Houston. He can go anywhere he wants, but that’s not his office anymore. Later, he tries to help put down another situation, only for it to be revealed that everything he did was part of Contessa’s plan. He can fight Endbringers, but he's still human, he's still part of the system. This all has even greater thematic resonance when he goes to church and talks to a priest as himself, as David. He’s a Christian, struggling to be what God meant him to be, struggling in a world that seems beyond God. Even I was touched, and I’m an annoying atheist edgelord.

As you’ve probably gathered by the other descriptions in this post, I’m a sucker for fanfic that expands the world of the original work. Imagine my joy when on top of the previously-mentioned setpieces, we get mention of a website besides PHO. Eidolon meets a young, naive OC named Amp, who is specifically trying to use him for a photo op to boost her rep, since she read online that it was a good move. Words cannot describe how much I love this scene. Eidolon’s gradual realization of what exactly Amp is trying to do... damn it’s good. And then Amp gets one of the top-two Wormfic interludes, where we see her entire life story, and we understand her, warts and all. Beautiful.

All due respect to the very good Initiation, Covalence, and The Problem With Other Realities, but THIS is the deadfic I most hope comes back. Everything from the prose to the characterization to the worldbuilding is spot on. (The plot is maybe a LITTLE loose…) And look out for the most admirably restrained Taylor usage in any Wormfic, she appears in the background for half a chapter, and it’s perfect, no notes.

Besides a couple of short, cracky one-shots and a contribution to the fanzine; ColossalMistake also wrote The Underside Of Gotham, a very very good Batman crossover that is brilliantly plotted and arranged. Every member of the Undersiders and every member of The Bat Family gets exactly one POV chapter. It’s downright impressive how every perspective feels like the perfect viewpoint for that chapter, and every chapter fluidly builds towards the story’s ending. He also wrote Internal Calculus, a CYOA crackfic where YOU are an intern at Cauldron trying to seduce Number Man. There are a whole lot of endings and some very funny lines, and also one ‘frustrated writer’ rant that you kinda have to just raise an eyebrow at and move on.

2. Intrepid

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By Cerulean

Status: Ostensibly only on hiatus, but don’t hold your breath. 860K words.

Premise: In an AU with many major and minor changes from canon, The Locker Incident leaves Taylor with a power that makes her seem catatonic, leading Emma and Madison to trigger. Emma joins The Undersiders, Madison joins an AU New Wave, and Taylor joins Faultline’s Crew. Meanwhile, Sophia attempts to deal with how the other Wards hate her even more now by helping out a new trigger in her spare time.

Anyone lower on the list is fully justified in getting mad at me. Intrepid has a lot of problems. The prose can be clunky, some moments (especially redemption arcs and romance scenes) feel unearned or rushed, many plot elements are introduced and then underutilized, and fight scenes often end too quickly. Some of the examples of ‘an adult guy trying to write a teenage lesbian’ are, er, unfortunate. And uh. There are way more slurs than were necessary to show that Nazis are bad. That’s before we even get to how the story handles the concept of ex-Nazis, which can politely be described as “naive”.  

This is the most Marvel-y of the fics on this list, with a lot of focus on exciting battle scenes with lots of people, even when the fighting seems kinda contextless. Madison especially enjoys throwing out quips a la Spider-Man in a way that can be jarring given the surrounding violence.

But no matter how much I thought about it, I couldn’t make myself move Intrepid down a slot. Those moments may be unearned but damn if they don’t hit. Interlude 20B is an incredible example of how to do a ‘minions rebel against their boss’ thing. Chapter 6-07 might be my favorite car chase I’ve ever read (admittedly not a lot of contestants in that contest, but still). There’s another chapter which is almost a blueprint for how to perfectly kill off a certain kind of villain. The “You like girls, Captain Oblivious.” monologue is just a fantastic bit that I needed to mention. And Intrepid also has one of the only Endbringer arcs I’ve EVER enjoyed, INCLUDING in canon.

This is also my favorite take on Sophia. She, through a somewhat elaborate set of circumstances, becomes the leader of an independent hero group during her off hours from the Wards. And while this causes her to become a less shitty person, she never loses her anger issues, she never stops being Sophia. I hesitate to call it a redemption arc, it’s more just character development. A lot of ink has been (justifiably) spilled over her canon appearance, which barely rises above racial caricature, and I’m not going to pretend that Intrepid has a radical deconstruction of her which makes it okay somehow. But yknow, if you’re stuck with it, this is maybe the best you can do.

Intrepid also has my favorite take on Labyrinth, which I will fully admit is pure bias on my part. I just really like it when neurodivergence is portrayed as endearing and not annoying, okay?

In the end, this is a fic that’s on this list not because it’s necessarily better written or better plotted, but just because of how much fun it all is. This is a fic where every cool idea the author could think of got shoved in there. Sometimes that leads somewhere, sometimes it doesn’t, but it sure always feels like it’s going to, which is skilled writing in and of itself. The Travelers show up, and just for fun, Noelle is their leader and they’re all alt-powers because they drank different vials. It’s great! New Wave shows up, but they haven’t unmasked and Fleur isn’t dead and Amy and Vicky both have alt-powers. Wonderful! That girl who Taylor mentions to Emma once in canon shows up and becomes the Butcher but the Butcher has a new name because they got subsumed by a new group. Fuck yeah! This fic is an example of how many changes you can make to canon while keeping it recognizably Worm. Why don’t we have more of that in the fandom? I mean, I can think of some examples (Slick, The Fall, even Inheritance) but so many people are content to follow the goddamn stations of the canon. 

This is also the only Wormfic I think I’ve ever read that does Armsmaster’s transformation into Defiant in a unique way. I love when fanfics are able to recreate arcs or plot moments in new contexts!

The most recent arc (written after a five year hiatus) admittedly makes me doubt that Cerulean still has what it takes to give Intrepid the conclusion it really deserves. But the fic is still too damn fun for me not to love. In short, this is Wormfic’s answer to Kingsmen: The Secret Service, another awesome fun action romp that doesn’t totally make sense plot-wise if you think about it for too long (and kinda sucks right at the end).

Cerulean started in the Animorphs fandom with the pretty decent Animorphs: Redux series. His first Wormfic, Atonement, is retrospectively a sort of dry run for Intrepid, exploring the same themes and ideas but not as good. And it has my favorite take on Legend! I do, however, need to specifically disclaim the original character of Vacate, who has some of the worst attempts at ‘realistic Urban dialogue’ I’ve ever read, it’s kinda uncomfortable. Currently Cerulean is publishing two original web serials, neither of which I can recommend in good faith. Heretical Edge is impossible to describe because the plot changes every other chapter, and Summus Proelium is just Worm but worse. Read the first chapter of each and then skip everything but the interludes, treat them like short story collections.

Bonus Round: Other Wormfics which have a particular special sauce

Absolution by Quantumsheepery, which has the best dialogue in any Wormfic, and the only good use of ‘aura theory’.

Broken Crown by thevalleyarchive, which has my favorite takes on Theo and Krieg, and also some of the most horrifically realistic depictions of Nazism I’ve seen in fiction. If it was far along enough to know that it’d stay this high quality, it’d be in the top ten list, easy.

Chain by Truebeasts, which has my favorite Dragon and Aisha.

Collagen by T0PH4T, which has my favorite Hookwolf, my favorite Endbringer arc, and an almost unforgivably clunky start before getting incredible out of nowhere.

Episodes by Sharpes_Tanith, which has enough plot to fill an entire arc used as background flavor for a one-shot of an uncomfortably honest portrait of bipolar disorder.

Glassmaker by JinglyJangles, which has this totally unique tone and vibe.

Here Comes The New Boss (Nothing Like The Old Boss) by HowlingGuardian, which has my favorite Spitfire, Velocity, piece of fanart, and Amy/Taylor pairup.

Just The Two Of Us by Discreet, which has a great plot I won’t spoil.

Mandible by Dragobeisha, which has my favorite Teeth and one of my favorite capefights.

Powers And Profits by Partizanka, which has one of the most out-of-the-box story concepts I’ve ever seen, executed flawlessly.

Slaughterhouse 9 Power Taylor by Thinker6, which has my favorite two-shot.

The Girl That Lived Through Time by 3ndless, which has a demonstration of exactly how much you can do with the Worm setting.

The Third Door by Dysole & TelegraphNine, which has my favorite Bonesaw’d!Taylor, and is a potential candidate for the awkward ‘most improved’ award.

These Bloodied Hands by beef jerky, which has some of the best prose in any Wormfic.

Unbreakable by JackSlash, which has my favorite Jack Slash.

1. Riley, Alone

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By R3N41SS4NC3

Status: Complete. 94K words.

Premise: No spoilers just read it. Even if you hate Worm go read it right now. Seriously, there’s one moment that made my jaw drop with how good and clever and creative it was, it was like getting hit by a truck. Read it!

That’s right, my pick for all-time best Wormfic is one where Taylor doesn’t show up at all and The Undersiders get mentioned like once.

This is a story that has a very special place in my heart. As you can probably gather from the other fics on this list, themes of atonement and redemption just resonate with me more than themes of recovery. I find the question “Is it possible to still be a good person after hurting people very badly?” more interesting than “Is it possible to heal after being hurt very badly?”. (Is this because I am a bad person? Possibly!) And without giving anything away, there’s a sentence roughly in the middle of the fic that monocasually destroyed part of my Catholic guilt complex.

But besides that, the story is just extremely good. The prose is top-notch, the plot progresses at a steady clip without sacrificing detail or forgetting character moments, and the standard cliches of Wormfic are either avoided or given unique twists. My favorite example for that last one is a trigger event scene. Everyone who’s read enough Wormfic has seen the phrases “DESTINATION. AGREEMENT.” just so. so so so many times when a writer’s being lazy. Or, if they’re not lazy but they’re still kinda uncreative, it’s just the visions from Worm rewritten again. Giant whales and all that. Riley, Alone has a completely original, totally unique interpretation of a trigger event vision and it makes the scene so much fresher and newer while also contributing to our understanding of the characters.

Even the chapter titles are great! Riley, Alone is divided into three sections, plus an interlude and an ending. Each section has its own unique chapter title gimmick and it just adds this tiny bit of flourish that makes the story feel that much more cohesive and planned out. I can only think of one other Wormfic (the very good, previously-mentioned Just The Two Of Us) that’s taken the time to do something more interesting than Wildbow-style arc titles.

Speaking of chapters, credit needs to be given to R3N41SS4NC3 for creating a totally new take on the concept of a Worm-style interlude. Again, I don’t wanna give it away, but if you’re like me and you still think it’s kinda annoying how Worm switched between first- and third- person, you will maybe love this.

And yes, I am avoiding detailing what plot points the story has, but that’s because I really really feel like it’s best gone into as blind and unsuspecting as possible. It starts focusing on Bonesaw before the Nine get to Brockton Bay and that’s all you need to know.

I guess if I had to say something to criticize it, the plot slowing down in the second half makes the story feel a little lopsided towards the front. I kinda wish there was just a little more Bonesaw body horror stuff shown on-screen. There’s a scene with the Siberian where it’s debatable how well it holds up to scrutiny. Chapter fifteen specifically feels like it was crying out to be absolutely nightmarish but it isn’t really. Uh. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got. I love this story so much. It’s got my second favorite take on Jack Slash and my favorite-ever take on Bonesaw. It’s got meditations on identity (gender and personal and societal). It’s got a nicely subtle Pact reference.

Okay, there is one thing that annoys me. Early on, Jack Slash is suggesting names for Bonesaw’s latest creation, and starts to say “Murder Rat” before getting cut off in the middle of “Rat”. So he’d say “Murder Ra-“, right? But it’s written in-dialogue as “Murder R” even though that’d be read out loud as “Murder Arr”. Anyway go read it already.

R3N41SS4NC3’s other fics include Charity Begins At Home, which has my favorite Madison; Desperate Times Call For Desperate Pleasures (co-written with piperfurby), which has my favorite Manpower but does veer between brilliant and bewildering; and Pyrrhic Love, which has my favorite Emma. There’s also another story that I don’t wanna mention in case people get mad at me but it’s very artfully done. And when you've read all that, read its first fic, what if catgirl!taylor got stuck in a tree?, which is near-Wattpad-level crack, and see how all great artists have to start somewhere.

[teeth-cable]

I need more people to talk about how just like the POC designs, the writing is terrible at clueing the audience what race and ethnicity the characters are.

Beside stereotypes, the racial coding in the writing is little to non-existence. The characters don’t have mannerisms from their cultures, speak in slangs or idioms relating to their group from their time periods, or make cultural references.

Without having to rely on outside sources (Livestreams, looking up VAs, leaked audition sheets, etc), the only characters I would successfully guess would be Vicky, Val, and Velvette, and even then, it doesn’t mean the racial coding is good.

Vicky is the only one from this list whose racial coding isn’t atrocious. I can tell she’s Latino because she curses in Spanish, but that’s it. This is admittedly nick-picky , but I wish when cursing she would have used Salvadoreño specific slang and curse phases to signal she’s Salvadoreña.

Val, I can tell is Latino too, because of his accent and him cursing in Spanish, but it’s egregious. The accent fluctuates so much, it’s strong, then weak, then strong again. Not sure if the VA was struggling or if this was an intentional direction given to him, though the fact, I and other people were confused, at the direction, speaks for itself. Another issue with his accent is how it’s sexualized, contributing to the Latin Lover stereotype of his character.

Velvette, I won’t sugarcoat it. I wouldn’t even guess she was supposed to be black though the writing or the majority of her designs until the finale. The finale, the last episode of the season and the only time she has textured hair with her screen time being around two minutes and sixteen seconds in total.

Visual designs isn’t where race coding ends. This is important to remember because it ignores the good coded characters (King Dice from Cuphead, Darwin from TAWG, the Funk trolls from Dreamwork’s Trolls) and how Viv failed and could have done the racial coding better.

For Viv, she has to rely on other coding methods too because there are characters who aren’t humanoid enough, or even humanoid at all, for visual coding to work. There really isn’t anything I can say to explain why the race coding sucks beside Viv doesn’t care about representing POCs.

I wanted to create this post to highlight how Viv fails at coding in every aspect. The fandoms and critics shouldn’t praised her for giving Velvette textured hair or darkening Sera’s skin from her leaked audition sheet. We need to stop praising creators, especially white ones, for doing less than the bare minimum (The bare minimum being making POC characters look POC) when creating POC characters, or worse, justify it. I’ve seen people tried to justify the terrible POC designs by using one of Carmilla’s daughters as an example, as if one decent POC design in a sea of ashy and euro-centric or erased features for the majority of the POC cast suddenly invalidates the criticisms.

I’m also getting tired of the fandom making posts questioning why people have and still draw the POC characters as white, as well as people harassing artists for accidental whitewashing. I’m hate the whitewashing too but in this case, it’s different because this is Viv’s own fault due to her poor racial coding. Not every fan will have the same intense knowledge you do or even should, to know what a character’s race or ethnicity is, that’s Viv’s responsibilities as the creator.

Mind you, these were the human designs we had before the show aired. Alastor being mixed creole and Niffty being Japanese yet they look white as hell here.

[cupidsworstcrime]

Azryth Belen (Alien Boyfriend/A.B.) info

@theclockonthewall come get your food , i fleshed him out for you

🪐 Species Name: K'thari

Homeworld: Virex-9, a temperate, bioluminescent jungle planet orbiting a binary star.

Average Lifespan: 300 Earth years

Language: Primarily pheromone- and light-based communication, supplemented with vocal tones. (Clicks & Chirps)

🧬 Biology

Skin: Silken and cool to the touch, A.B.’s skin contains chromatophores that shift color slightly in response to emotions. When aroused or flustered, patches along his jaw, throat, and chest glow faintly with soft pink or violet hues—like a mood ring that can’t shut up.

Eyes: Large, dark, almost glassy. They lack pupils and reflect more light than they absorb, which makes direct eye contact in dim rooms a little surreal. His vision spectrum includes UV and infrared, so he can literally see your body heat and hormonal shifts—something that confuses him deeply when he notices you "blushing down there" and doesn’t know how to ask politely.

Tongue: Long, ridged, and hyper-flexible. It evolved for both grooming and nutrient extraction in symbiotic fruit-harvesting. Its texture is somewhere between soft coral and a heated silk ribbon—absolutely not designed with oral sex in mind, but he's trying, okay?

Mouth/Breath: Strong, almost suction-like tongue base. His breath carries trace amounts of calming pheromones, which were meant to pacify prey species (or keep his nestmates chill). You don’t know this at first—you just feel inexplicably fuzzy and relaxed when he’s between your legs. He doesn’t realize this is not normal for humans until much later.

Genitals: Internal until aroused. K’thari reproductive biology is less visual than human's and more scent/pheromone-driven. Their mating involves entwining scent glands and mutual stimulation, making A.B. deeply confused at the visual intensity of human sex. (“Your reproductive anatomy is… outside. That feels very… unsafe?”)

💬 Cultural Notes

Sexual Norms: The K'thari don't have a direct equivalent to oral sex. Intimacy is shown through shared breath, grooming, and entwining sensory limbs. So when you say, “I want you to eat me out,” he panics slightly because he thinks you’re asking to be devoured. (He does ask twice to make sure.)

Consent Rituals: Touch among K’thari is highly formal. Touching someone's face or core body is an intimate ritual, usually accompanied by pheromone-exchange or light display. So the first time you put his hand between your thighs, he short-circuits and locks up for a solid thirty seconds, every patch of his skin flashing confused yellow and excited pink.

Language Barriers: Since K’thari communication is based on pheromones and subtle skin pulses, A.B. struggles with sarcasm, idioms, and metaphors. You say, “Jaws killing me,” mid-blowjob, and he stops you immediately, horrified.

❤️ Relationship Impact

Emotional Clumsiness: He is not used to verbal affection. His version of a love confession is standing guard at your bedroom door all night or meticulously cataloguing your scent markers to recreate them when you're apart.

Learning Curve: You have to teach him human intimacy step by step, using comparisons he can understand. “My clit is like the focus point on your scent node.” “Okay, so it’s like a cluster of pleasure sensors? I can work with that.”

Devotion: Once he learns how to please you, he treats it like a sacred rite. He doesn’t just eat you out—he worships. It’s reverent. Focused. He uses your moans as calibration, adjusting pressure and angle with single-minded devotion. When you praise him, his skin lights up like a bioluminescent night field.

[amarynthian-chronicles]

Extended Contract Chapter 1

Fae Prince Sun, Fae Prince Moon, Fae King Eclipse x Witch Reader

(You are a witch that fell for the oldest trick in the book by giving your name to the mischievous Fae princes of the Celestial Court. Such an inconvenience on what was supposed to be a typical office night. You are honestly not having it. They, however, do seem quite happy about having you. You decide to make a deal with the Fae King to regain your freedom. The only thing that is functional in the whole situation is your phone signal in the Fae Kingdom.)

Warnings: kidnapping, suggestive themes, gore and the usual Fae tomfoolery

“May I have your name?“

“Of course, it is Y/N.“

“Your precious contribution is very much appreciated.“

It is not every day that one seals their own fate because of a simple misunderstanding of idioms and literal meanings, but there you were, bound to the realm of the Fae Folk and belonging to the royal twins of the Celestial Court. Mondays were known to be unlucky days, but this was just ridiculous.

You weren't really in the mood for getting abducted, thank you very much.

There were so many assignments and drafts due next week and you feared Vanessa's wrath far more than you feared the dark magic of enamoured Fae.

Furthermore, you had the misfortune of being stuck with those mischievous miscreants in the middle of the witching hour. The law firm building was empty, the cranky doorman had left hours ago and the janitor had the habit of never arriving before six in the morning. You could scream, but that would not do much good. The cameras did not pick up sound and technology could not record the presence of the Fae, so the only thing you would accomplish is create evidence of your own insanity.

“Excuse me, I really must protest.“

You were in the process of trying to escape the grip of the regal solar-themed Fae. He seemed rather amused, since you weren't really successful, but he almost seemed to be playfully encouraging you to keep trying. Prince Sun had always been a very supportive person, even if he was the one causing the problem in the first place.

“Go on, beautiful, nobody is stopping you. I think that every once in a while everybody needs to raise objections and such. It is healthy.“

His lunar twin grinned, red eyes glowing with roguish mirth.

“I wholeheartedly agree with you, brother. We fully encourage sincerity and dialogue.“

You told them that you wanted to make an appeal. They happily informed you that such a thing was not possible and that you officially belonged to them. You were certainly not touched by their infectious enthusiasm. After all, being gifted with a human's True Name was an experience akin to a cat falling into a whole box full of catnip for them.

“You will play with us forever."

“The Celestial Court is a wondrous place.“

“Word games galore.“

“But beware, for danger lurks in each syllable, my love.“

“Blades caress the consonants and glide along the vowels.“

“Running is futile, but at least it is a very healthy activity. It is always important to get some cardio for the day.“

By all logic, you should be feeling some form of despair and terror, but you were mostly suffering from a horrible case of injured pride. You had fallen for the oldest trick since the dawn of magic. You were an absolute idiot. True, you were running on two cups of coffee, you had not slept properly in a week and your blood sugar levels were more tragic than Shakespeare's “Hamlet“. In your defense, working for William Afton, attorney at law, was no walk in the bloody park. Especially when you had Vanessa as your immediate taskmaster.

You had grown tired of struggling, giving yourself a few moments of respite. Prince Sun was holding you bridal style, his blue gaze soft, showing a type of adoration one would give to a hidden treasure, a joy one experiences when holding a droplet of water in a desert.

Prince Moon had a personality that was diametrically opposite to that of his brother. Hunger reigned in his eyes. Your essence was intoxicating, calling for him, enticing him. You dared not even imagine what his claws could do to you, nor what he could accomplish with his razor-sharp teeth.

Rowan charms could no longer save you, nor could silver. Leaves of holly had no more power, either. You couldn't bribe the royal twins with cream either, since apparently you were the new dessert in the grand scheme of things.

Moon reached out with his claws, searching for your delicate hand. He traced his claw along the sensitive flesh of your inner wrist with all the fervour and ardour of a lover, inspecting the soft skin. Upon giving your name to them, two different markings had manifested on each inner wrist respectively. A crescent moon on the right one and the mark of the sun on the left one.

“Gentlemen, there has obviously been a bit of a miscommunication.“

“Yes, those tend to be very practical in our line of work.“

“I don't have time for this, do you have any idea how many assignments I have due next week?“

“Actually, we do. I must voice our disapproval of you overworking yourself in general. Following orders of such unworthy scoundrels.“

“Well, I am not really in the mood for changing one group of masters for another. I wish to be taken to the Fae King.“

“You will meet him later anyway, he is a bit busy now.“

“No, no, not in that way. I wish to make my complaint.“

“Haven't we closed that topic already?“

“I demand my freedom back. You two said that King Eclipse could grant it to me if I convince him to. Although, I see now that this statement does not exclude you two being capable of the same thing and most likely you are just using the wording to trick me to stop asking you.“

“Can you blame us?“

“Yes. I blame you. And I judge you.“

In spite of it all, you had to admit the celestial princes were quite handsome and their appearance would normally be breathtaking, if you weren't meeting them under such circumstances.

In a resting position, their large wings almost appeared like regal capes. Complementary colours reigned in their respective palettes. Deep royal blues of Prince Moon's wings were speckled with tiny stars, while the rich golden hues of Prince Sun's had swirls of blue interwoven in their texture. In a way, the twins were perfectly symmetrical when it came to the design of their wings. Their attire was similar to that of jesters, but far more elaborate and indicative of their status. Silk and velvet were present, bejeweled buttons, finely tailored doublets.

Both of them were eager, lovestruck and needy. To a degree you almost felt like a lamp attracting a pair of silly mothlings. Which was fitting, considering they too had wings and all.

As Moon was still caressing you along your inner forearm, Sun could not resist nuzzling your hair. You could have sworn that you heard both of them purr. A part of you wondered how on earth did such a scene appear on the cameras, were you simply just floating around and talking to yourself? You internally apologized in advance to any poor security worker that would have to go through the recordings later.

Sun's voice brought you back from your silly reveries, his cheek resting on your head.

“As soft as silk.“

You had been somewhat aware that a pair of Fae had been hunting you for the past several weeks, but it was impossible to decipher their identity. Their glamour and shielding spells had been extremely powerful, their cunning unparalleled and their tricks endless. In many ways, they had been testing you, the purity of your heart and the strength of your soul. They would come to you, disguised either as lost little animals in need of help, or as injured humans in need of assistance. You would always help, no questions asked and always ignoring the warning tingle of enemy magic. Your mind had completely warped to the logic of the normal world and you no longer asked yourself the questions a witch would.

You did not suspect the odd new coworkers that had appeared out of nowhere either, nor did you seem to wonder where they had come from. You had simply accepted that you probably just never noticed them before and that they had always been there. A few pleasantries here, a few kind words there, and that had been all. Of course, all up till tonight when the name trick finally came to rip the veil of denial off.

You huffed, unphased by Sun's compliments regarding your hair.

“Were you the one that has been making those silly fairy-locks I kept waking up with? Those are impossible to untangle!“

“Technically you are not supposed to do that, elsewise you bring misfortune upon yourself. The poor keyboard on your laptop suffered a premature death because of that.“

“I really liked that laptop.“

“I know.“

“It was brand new.“

“May it rest in peace.“

You looked over at the little digital clock on a nearby desk. The witching hour was almost over and the power of the Fae would slightly weaken after four in the morning. If you somehow escaped them, maybe you could distract them enough till the desired hour strikes. Your magical weapons may at least have a fair chance afterwards.

You gasped as Moon leaned closer to you, his hand caressing your cheek, sliding down to your neck, distracting you with pleasurable sensations and making your spine tingle.

“What is going on in that pretty little head of yours, wishing star?“

“Nothing much, honestly.“

Both of them spread their giant wings, showing all of their glory, then draped them over you in what one may interpret as a soothing and protective gesture, but given the circumstances, it was also a demonstration of entrapment.

Impish jesters, forever grinning, forever teasing.

It was one thing to be bound and made to serve an ordinary fairy. It was a completely different thing to be serving the royal twins of the Celestial Court. They were dangerous, powerful, their stature surpassed even the tallest of humans, their urges were never satisfied and their desires never at rest. Not to mention that they were the most competent tricksters of the Fae kingdom.

Fairies were incapable of lying. Therefore, they had to resort to literal meanings and multiple interpretations, distortions, tricks. You could imply one thing that was perfectly accepted and understood in human society, but they would purposefully give it an obscure meaning that was still not a falsehood.

Your predicament was ironic in many ways. Embarassing even. To be precise, you came from a long line of magical practitioners that had been known over the centuries as the Cunning Folk. Various terms existed for such people, but in the modern times the closest definition would be light witches. It was an adequate name that differentiated them from warlocks or dark witches.

You, dear Y/N, had done your best in life to keep the madness of magic at bay. Yes, you knew how to ward yourself from curious spirits, you always had your trusted rolled up newspaper at the ready to hit the local boogeyman on the head when he was living rent-free under your bed, and pretty much every imp on the block knew to avoid you if they wanted to keep all their limbs attached.

Fae Folk, however, were a different story. Long ago, it had been a custom for the Fae to connect to members of the Cunning Folk in order to form a soul bond. A familiar and their witch, in a way. It had always been a connection stronger than any spell and a love more intense than any passionate marriage.

All of that had changed when the realm of the Fae had been afflicted by a darkness far more potent than any light spell could heal. The Hopes and Dreams of children had become scarce and all that was once joyful and innocent had become corrupted and ruined. The Fae King had become cruel and wicked, his once cheerful and loving demeanour had transformed into that of a deranged villain. He did have an odd shift of behaviour on certain birthdays, though, and this would usually take everyone aback for a solid twenty-four hours.

In light of all that, the Cunning Folk had gone into hiding and refused any new bonds with the Fae. This was unacceptable, since the Fae had depended immensely on the sweet nectar that human souls could provide, especially when that soul happened to be a magical one. Consequently, over the centuries the Fae had to resort to various tricks, from luring humans into their fairy circles, kidnapping them and taking them to their kingdom, tricking them with various word games and always having them fall in traps when they least expected it. Certain Fae were less malevolent and were simply in dire need and want of being parents to a child, so they would take human babies to raise them as their own, leaving changelings in their place.

And despite all your efforts, you still managed to become a captive. Go figure.

Prince Sun, ruler of the waking dreams, bringer of hope, and Prince Moon, protector of sleeping children and vanquisher of nightmares. All of those titles did sound pretty cute, but both of them were still impish fiends that loved to play pranks on adults. Oh, well, your time was running out, so you had to think of something fast. Or at least try to reach the little dagger with Runes that you had all nicely hidden and tucked away in a secret pocket of your trousers. You never knew when you would need to stab something supernatural. Or open an envelope.

You concocted a little plan and hoped for the best.

Trickery was not limited to the Fae and you lowkey felt proud of your cunning ways as you pulled Moon into a deep kiss, much to his initial shock. He began to eagerly reciprocate, the sweet haze of lust conspiring against him, your softness and loveliness engulfing his mind. Desire was a natural solvent to rational thought and you had no problems with using that against him. Sun, on the other hand, was both shocked, and slightly jealous, but he did know that something was off.

His suspicions were only confirmed when, in the span of several seconds, you pulled out a silver dagger with enough Runic carvings to obliterate a whole magical army, casually stabbed Moon's heart as if the very gesture was the most normal thing in the world, used Sun's surprise to wriggle out of his grasp and you ran away down the corridors like a feral kitten. Well, at least you were productive.

As you ran, your phone began to ring, conveniently giving up your location in the process, but oh well. It was Vanny, so of course you had to pick up.

“Y/N, where is that briefing paper that you were supposed to email me literally yesterday?“

“I'm in a bit of a situation, Vanessa.“

“What is it now?“

“Well, apparently I am getting married.“

“Congratulations, I still want that briefing.“

“I will call you back, alright?“

Meanwhile, Prince Moon was having a bit of an existential crisis. He stood there, shocked, dagger protruding from his heart.

Oh, yes, it hurt. It burned, stinged, all of the unpleasant things that one may imagine. However, it was nothing compared to how it could have been. The newly forged bond made him immune to most of your deadly spells and Runes, so at worst he would feel temporary pain and then it would cease.

In a way, his desire and respect for you only increased. A Fae always respected good examples of trickery.

Sun could not stop himself from wheezing, very much entertained with the situation.

“You really walked into that one, Moon.“

“Shut up.“

He would still make you pay for that little insult, nonetheless. The corridors had morphed into the same scenery over and over, the windows were suddenly sealed shut, the nearby doors leading to a dead end or into a void of eternal nothingness. You could no longer trust your senses, for mad whispers kept disrupting reality. Only a few more minutes, you hoped for only a few more minutes till the witching hour ends.

You were honestly an idiot for trusting your own luck.

Moon's voice echoed throughout the corridors, ominous and demonic. A bit spicy, as well.

“You should have saved that fire for the wedding night, wishing star.“

“Goodness gracious.“

It became rather obvious that Vanessa would not be getting that briefing paper anytime soon, nor would our good old William Afton be getting his early morning coffee next week, either. Or any week, for that matter. It was a tragedy beyond description, may he rest in pieces.

You had to stop to catch your breath, panting, perfectly aware of the fact that you were mostly screwed. Well, a part of your mind tried to add some rational remarks and told you that living with the Fae couldn't be that bad and at least you would hopefully be getting some really cute royal garments or something. When in doubt, at least material things never disappointed you.

Ghostly hands rose from the ground, grasping at your ankles, your calves, your thighs. You fell forwards unceremoniously and you would have experienced quite a hit to the ground had the hands not grasped you, shielding you from the hard floor.

“What a perfect way to spend my night, being manhandled seventy percent of the time.“

Wrestling them was useless, but at least there was more dignity in that than just doing nothing and thinking about the meaning of life till your captors arrived.

Prince Sun appeared first, somewhat sympathetic, but also visibly tired from all the shenanigans. He let you have your little moment of heroism, though.

“Take your time, darling one.“

“Oh, sod off.“

Prince Moon arrived soon after, eyes glowing a dangerous shade of crimson, the dagger still embedded in his chest. He pulled the blade out, his gaze following the path of the rivulets of blood, almost enchanted by the pattern they were making as they glided along the expertly made Runic symbols.

“Love the craftsmanship on this one. It would have been a poetic death. Stricken by a wishing star, tearing my heart asunder, red pearls the only gifts I have to offer.“

Sun went over to you, partially teasing, partially serious.

“Someone is a bit violent. Are you alright, darling one? Do you wish to talk about some unresolved issues?“

“You two are literally stealing me away.“

“It's not that bad. We shall be loving and caring consorts to you. After all, our bond is basically an engagement.“

“This is the shoddiest proposal ever. How is this even supposed to work, each of you gets their own day of the week?“

“We'll share equally.“

“Excuse me, I am not a meal.“

“Really? You do seem rather delicious.“

“This isn't fair. Do you have any idea how homesick humans can get in the realm of the Fae?“

“We have many spells designed to bedazzle the mind and encourage you to forget the mortal world. And everyone is nice in their own way once you get to know them.“

“You two had no other member of the Cunning Folk to bother and you just had to stumble upon me?“

The dark spell was lifted and you found yourself free. Well, not for long, since the twins were at your side once more. Sun kissed your hand like a true gentleman, his wings making the faintest flutter of joy.

“We searched for a heart of gold and dreams of hope.“

“And you decided to look in a law firm?“

“Bright light contrasts best against a shadowy background.“

“Can I see the terms and conditions of my service?“

“Oh? Good idea! You can read all of that on our way to the palace! It will be so much fun to explain it to you. Of course, the letters are inverted, so you will need a mirror just to read it.“

He conjured a seemingly reasonable rolled-up piece of paper, before letting it unfold. It reached the ground in a comical fashion and kept on going till the end of the corridor.

“Sun, that list is longer than the border of Ancient Rome.“

“Indeed! I had it shortened to make it easier for you.“

“Dear god.“

“I also must say that I wrote it myself. I do my fair share of corporate business and contracts with humans are my specialty, but I do prefer to engage in theater. I may have given a certain playwright a few tips on writing his special little Midsummer work.“

“Old Will? For real?“

“Wonderful chap to have a pint with at the pub. I am certain he would have had an aneurysm had he lived to see what his reputation had become nowadays. A cheerful knave being the main topic for school and homework? Scandalous. He was a most charming actor and a talented wizard of words. Had many a verbal battle with him, and I never managed to snag his soul. I fully respect him for that.“

“Good to know. Regardless, I still wish to talk to your brother about this whole affair. It is my right, considering the fact that I am not a normal human and I do have certain perks. I am certain that King Eclipse will have more respect for old customs than you two.“

Sun and Moon gave each other a look, before giggling at you, as if charmed by how silly your request was.

“King Eclipse? Darling one, do beware.“

“The knave stole the moonlight fair.“

“Neither fools nor traitors breathe for long in his lair.“

“Be our guest, challenge him, if you dare.“

You raised an eyebrow at their improvised little poetic endeavour, tilting your head, curious.

“Did you two just come up with that?“

“Well, we did think of incorporating a iambic pentameter somewhere in there, but we simply decided to free verse it.“

Needless to say that the whole charade continued even after they had conjured a portal to their world, taking you with them. You were playing a dangerous game, but realistically you had nothing to lose. Well, except your dignity and maybe your life, but nothing lasts forever anyway, so might as well.

Your case was one type of extreme. On the other end of the city, two members of the Fae species were in the process of “adopting“ a few bundles of joy. The bear Fae and the wolf Fae were aware that two children were very unhappy in their orphanage and oftentimes they would hear the little girl, Cassie, vocalize her wish to be taken away by magical creatures. The boy, Gregory, had nothing against any of that, as long as there was proper acommodation involved. He hated the hard old bed he had in the orphanage and the food was positively awful.

Of course, there had to be an equivalent exchange, so the two Fae had to bring some friends along. One of them was not too thrilled.

“Why are we doing this? I don't want to stay in the human world.“

“You only need to stay till the next full Moon, Bonnie, and then you will be free of the obligation. Monty will keep you company.“

“Monty is insane.“

“Don't be rude.“

“He pushed me off the stairs, Roxy.“

“Happens.“

Montgomery was far too busy exploring the wonders of a music player to really care where he was, honestly. A few broken orphanage windows and one angry half-blind nun later, the wolf Fae and the bear Fae had become proud new adoptive parents. Bonnie and Monty would have to serve as changeling replacements for a bit, but that is what happens when you lose fairy chess. You owe favours.

By the time Roxy and Freddy had returned home, Gregory had partially woken up, while Cassie was all snuggled in the soft pillows of her new bed. They boy looked around his new house, nonchalant and trying to read what was happening from the clues given.

“Have I been kidnapped?“

“Some may call it that.“

“By fairies? Like, a changeling type of situation?“

“Yes, but I assure you we are using all of the safety protocols that are necessary.“

“Well, I'll be damned.“

“We do wish to make the best effort and become your new family, Gregory. For you and Cassie.“

“Is that food over there? Cupcakes?“

“Oh, indeed, with buttercream and cherries.“

Gregory observed the treats for a good few moments, thought a bit, weighed all his options and of course made the best possible decision for himself in that type of situation. Fairy food was usually a forbidden thing, but he was already stolen anyway.

“I am a simple lad, I see free food and I cannot complain.“

AO3

[ephie-om]

Barbatos' Job

CW: Violence

Barbatos plucks at each fingertip of his pristine white gloves, tugging them off bit by bit and placing them precisely in the center of the small table to his right, along with his small silver cufflinks. His footsteps, though light, echo down the stairs. He walks calmly, no sense of urgency in his movements. The candles flickering from their sconces lend him an eerie, almost ethereal aura as his features are bathed in the warm light bouncing off the bare stones. His feet stop just before the chair in the center of the room, and his horns clatter softly as he looks down at the face of the demon tied and gagged before him.

Swollen lips, still oozing blood slowly from one of the deeper cuts, saliva spilling over onto their chin. One nostril, clogged with mucus and blood, and the other flaring as the demon struggles to breathe. Matted hair with chunks ripped out, exposing bare scalp slowly scabbing over. Eye sockets, slowly starting to color with bruised purples and blues.  Eyes, almost entirely bloodshot, gray irises, terrified. 

Barbatos is reminded of a human idiom he once heard, “The eyes are the window to the soul”. He bends slightly to peer into their eyes for a long moment, trying to decide what their soul must look like, and their body starts to shake with fear. Tears well up in their eyes, but they don't dare to move. Not even when the tears spill over their eyelids and soak into open wounds, making their muscles twitch erratically as the pain lances through their face. 

Barbatos finally straightens, finding nothing of worth in their eyes. His long, pale fingers flip the cuff of his shirtsleeve over onto the sleeve twice, rolling it so that most of his forearm is exposed. He mirrors the action on his other arm slowly, methodically. The cool underground air swishes around his bare arms as he lowers them.

“I assume you know why you were brought here,” he says calmly. The demon stares back at him, petrified. “A simple nod yes or no will suffice.” Their head bobs up and down once, eyes still locked on him. “Good. I will not waste any time in explaining, then.” 

His arm moves from the shoulder faster than the demon’s eyes can track, delivering a backhanded blow across their face with a crack. They cry out in pain, head snapping to the side. “According to your records, you have been a documented Devildom citizen for over four hundred years,” he continues, putting a slight emphasis on the last two words. “One would think that as a consequence, you would have a basic level of understanding of the society in which you live. Unfortunately, it seems as though you have deliberately chosen to ignore every reminder of your Prince’s position.” He delivers another strike to the space just below the demon’s ribs, knocking the breath out of them, and he allows himself a moment to relish the sight of the demon hunched over as far as their bonds allow, unable to fill their lungs. 

“I should not have to reiterate that treason is punishable by death. Speaking about your Prince with the intent to form a plan to harm him falls under the definition of treason. Do you understand me?” The demon raises their head just enough to give him another nod. Barbatos’ eyes trace their cowering form with displeasure, and with a wave of his hand, the ropes binding them tighten, pulling them upright. Mucus streams from their face as they fight for breath against the ropes pressing against their lungs, and Barbatos can smell their blood roiling in their veins, driven on by the adrenaline dumping into their arteries. 

He walks behind the chair, past their field of vision, and picks up a flat metal spike, impossibly sharp, about the length of his forearm. “My job as the Prince’s butler goes far beyond that of a typical servant.” He steps around the chair into their view again, and watches as their eyes go wide. Barbatos trails his fingertips lightly down the front of the demon’s upper chest until he finds the small notch he’s looking for, right where the sternum joins into itself. He places the tip of the spike there, parallel to the floor, no pressure behind it. “I draw his baths, curate his teacups, and coordinate the color of his bedsheets.” 

The putrid smell of ammonia wafts up to his nose, and he glances down to find a slowly growing puddle on the chair. The demon squirms in their own mess, trying to get away from him. He looks up to meet their eyes again. “He also trusts me to… solve other problems. The distasteful situations that the Prince’s status is too high to touch.” Barbatos leans in close and starts to push. The spike pierces the skin slowly, millimeter by millimeter, and they scream through the gag, their head hitting the back of the chair with a thunk. “But make no mistake,” Barbatos murmurs, his voice tickling their face. The spike inches further, through the thin layers of muscle and hitting bone. Only a bit more pressure, and starts to cleave the bone in half just where the small strands of cartilage connect. It makes a metallic grating noise, one that vibrates through the demon’s skeleton. “I love my job.” 

With one calculated push, the spike drives deep into their body, splitting apart muscles and organs with ease. The demon screams, convulsing in their chair violently. Barbatos keeps pushing until he feels the spike pierce the wood in the back of the chair. He steps away, admiring his work. Watching the demon thrash around reminds him of an insect pinned to a board, struggling through its last breaths. Their muffled screams echo around the empty walls, and he closes his eyes, relishing in the symphony of his own creation.

[connorgavinarmy]

Drabble Challenge Day 30: Hat

A/N: I struggled with this one the most. Thankfully the idiom "at the drop of a hat" came to my mind. :') And yesss have more angry Connor!

The Drabble Challenge by: @thedrabblecollective Day 30 Prompt: Hat Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Characters: Connor, Gavin Reed, Captain Fowler (mentioned)

---

With a purposeful stride across the bullpen, Connor approached Gavin’s desk and threw the detective’s legs off the table, not giving a damn that he almost toppled over from his chair.

“Motherfucker!” Gavin lunged. Connor stopped his fist before it connected.

“You’ve been unresponsive, Detective Reed,” Connor said flatly. “I need your finished report so we can close this case.”

Gavin snarled. “If it weren’t for Fowler, I would destroy you at the drop of a hat.”

“You’re welcome to try if that would make you feel better, Gavin.”

Connor leaned in, voice dangerously low.

“Whatever happens afterwards is self-defense.”

📷 (c) ᕈ O W L Y

[miriamladyvoid]

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Worldbuilding and fanfic writing

As I work on my drafts for my future Lies of P fics, something I would like to achieve in my writing is to get a good handle on the social and cultural context in which the game is set in the city of Krat: Belle époque (1871-1914), not only to make the setting feel more real, but also to show how the context affects, influences and conditions the behaviour of the characters in their world. Since it is a fictional alternate world that obviously collects elements of that time and different places in old Europe (in addition to the fantasy elements and steampunk aesthetics), I always had a little doubt about how much the environment culturally and socially influences the condition of the people. Obviously, the game developers pay a lot of attention to the details and setting of the city in terms of fashion, architecture, technology, music, etc. But I still have more doubts, especially about how the city was socially and culturally before and after the disasters we already know happened.

1.-Is there a single idiom or slang in the language? 2.-Were social labels very strict or were creative liberties taken to make them less rigid in Krat? 3.-How pronounced was the social structure and inequalities? 4.-Are there political tensions? 5.-Is there strong censorship and cultural control? 6.-Were there social movements and struggles, especially with the industrialisation of puppetry? 7.-Are there myths and legends that use elements of European folklore? 8.-How strong or cautious were the scientific and medical ethics? (cough, cough, Geppetto, Simon) 9.-Will there be a future equivalent to the First World War? 10.-Will there be conflicts between the traditional and the future modernity? 11.-How will modernisation progress in Krat when the frenzy is over? (I have the basic idea that the game obviously starts in 1871, but when the city slowly resurfaces, it will progress until the early 1900s).

I don't know, it's these issues that always come up when I'm trying to write and, well, they tend to give me a bit of a headache about how to incorporate them. It would be interesting to know more about them, especially how they affect Pinocchio, given that he is someone who has not been raised or conditioned by these social norms, and how his social maladjustment would cause him to step out of the norm. Not to mention the issue of not knowing whether P ends up being a real human or some weird human/puppet mish-mash. I think it would only add to Pinocchio's existential crises, but now add a social inadequacy and a VERY likely rejection of his person and what he represents (poor guy can't catch a break).

It would be interesting to read this topic in more fanfics (especially in lop x reader scenarios) (and how the reader or an OC helps P with these topics, perhaps creating debates and social criticism) I know many like to write more about action or expand the lore of the game, but I've always been someone who has had a fondness for everyday stories and how they develop and condition individuals. Especially with the character of Pinocchio, the way he builds his individuality and humanity, and the existentialism of his condition, already influenced by his environment.

˚₊‧ Just P Learning about the complexity and beauty of the turbulent human condition and its social implications. ‧₊˚

═════════════════【✉˚₊‧ཐི✧ཋྀ‧₊˚✉】═══════════════════

[karasbroken]

I posted the third chapter for Bite the Dust, my post-The Flax story, last week after a huge struggle. I'm not sure how long it will take me to post the last chapter, because I'm still not sure how to get through all the little moments on my mind. But I have been writing. This week's WIP fragment is from when they have finished their shopping, and are watching the ocean waiting for sunrise.

It's the always tricky moment where John actually explains the idiom of the story. In this case not a particularly exciting reveal, but at least it's done.

When they exited the marketplace, the sky was already lightening, purple and blue with a hint of red where the sun would shortly climb above the waves. Aeryn started across the plaza back to the entrance to the hangar, but quickly realized John wasn't following. Instead he was walking toward the water's edge, where an elaborate metal grill shrouded the poured stone foundation of the dome, to almost chest height.

Aeryn caught up with him at the railing. Beyond the dome was a stretch of dark rock, descending some two hundred motras in a gradual drop into the sea. There was little life, though, the barren slopes of the volcano empty save for some streaks of blue moss clinging to cracks and a few of the large ribbon-edged slugs they'd seen at their first landing. The view was worth a few microts notice at least, more interesting by far than the beach had been. The mound looked like it would be a challenging climb, though not undoable with good equipment.

After a micron however, John showed no sign of wanting to leave, staring steadily at the reddening sky as if waiting for some sign. She wanted to say something, to remind him that they should be on their way, but his focus prevented her.

A cleaning robot, rotating head of fibers swiping up and down along the wall in faint spray of dust, came to a haltering stop as it drew near where they stood. After a few microts of detente, Aeryn pulled John gently back a step, letting the servicer reactivate and continue on its way. Watching it dislodged motes, then suck them gently out of the air, she was reminded of the human saying that had plagued her for the last two solar days. "What does it mean to bite dust?"

Her non-sequitur was enough to finally make him turn away from the ocean. "Bite the dust. It means to die." Crichton mimed with one hand falling down to impact on the other, bobbing like something heavy hitting and bouncing off the ground. "Also called taking a dirt nap."

It was nonsense, like most of his human idioms; the dead can't bite and don't sleep. "That's a grim thing to chant while you attempt resuscitation," she said before she could stop herself. John had been prickly and difficult all day. She didn't want another fight because he thought she was being critical.

But he laughed "Yeah, ee-ehm-tees--those are emergency medical techs--have a dark sense of humor. But it's a popular song, everyone knows it, and it has a very memorable, very strong beat. It's supposed to help amateurs keep the right rhythm while they wait for help to arrive." John narrowed his eyes, his focus shifting from his memories to her. "Did it help you?"

She shook her head. "One chest press per microt is simple enough. It was distracting. It wouldn't leave my head."

He gave her a half-smile, and turned back to the sea. "It's an ear-worm. That's why we use it. Humans don't come with built-in timers."

[swaps55]

Mezzo - 08 - Never the Dark

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Mashed potato trauma + thermal clip disagreements + Korlus = boom. AKA, just shake Garrus really hard until all of his trauma falls out.  

Chapter 8: Never the Dark | Read on Ao3

24 November, 2185, Eagle Nebula, Imir System, SSV Normandy

Erash. Monteague. Mierin. Grundan Krul. Melenis. Ripper. Sensat. Vortash. Butler. Weaver.

Ten names Garrus kept on rotation in his head with his eye pressed to the scope on Omega. They stayed on repeat throughout his incarceration in the medbay. Even now, with Omega behind them and Dr. Chakwas’ blessing to move about the rest of the ship, those ten names are so loud he doesn’t even hear the human mess sergeant ask him a question as Garrus takes a dinner tray from him.

“I’m sorry. Repeat that?”

The human grins. It’s so much like Weaver’s. Garrus focuses on a grease stain on the counter.

“Just have to tell me how you like it. Never fixed turian grub before.”

The thought of looking at Weaver’s smile for one second longer than he has to overrides Garrus’ urge to ask what a grub is. So he just nods, wincing as his good mandible flicks in acknowledgement, and takes his tray into the sea of unfamiliar faces dining in the mess.

Unfamiliar except for one. Joker waves him over, from the same seat he used to sit in on the real Normandy. The one that went down while Garrus was safe and sound on the Citadel, catching up on paperwork.

Several heads swivel and stare as Garrus makes his way to the table where Joker sits alone, pushing a white congealed mass around his plate with a fork. He lifts a glob up and scrutinizes it carefully while Garrus tries to cram his legs under a table designed for humans, not turians. One thing about the Normandy he didn’t miss. The makeshift ‘civilian’ clothes Dr. Chakwas had somehow managed to procure for him don’t exactly fit, either, which only makes him more conspicuous in a sea of humans. Unfortunate that while being dragged half-dead out of that warehouse he hadn’t thought to grab an extra tunic. 

“You know we never had these on the first Normandy?” Joker muses.

“Had what?”

“Mashed potatoes.”

A clump slips off the fork and splats on the plate.

“They look…vile.”

Joker sticks the fork in his mouth and chews thoughtfully, then makes a face. “Only Gardner could make potatoes taste vile.” He eyes Garrus. “So. How’ve you been.”

Garrus rubs a talon over the tasteful bandage Dr. Chakwas had applied to his face to cover the reconstructed mandible. “Quit my job. Formed a squad. Took on three Omega merc bands at once and got everyone killed. Had half my face blown off.”

Joker’s eyebrow vanishes under the brim of his cap. “You know, last time I saw you, you knew how to dodge.”

“Rusty.”

Joker snorts. “Got a cool nickname, at least.”

“Well, you know. Make glass out of sand and all.”

“Glass out of sand. Why do all turian idioms have to do with sand?”

“All the ones about dying have to do with water.”

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist

[wholemantou]

君有疾否 Jun You Ji Fou Audio Drama S2 Insert Song: No Man's Land 《无人洲》 Wú Rén Zhōu - Lyrics (English Translation)

English translation of No Man's Land 《无人洲》 Wú Rén Zhōu, the lyrics of the insert song from the audio drama for Jun You Ji Fou / Art Thou Ailing?, based on the novel of the same name by Ru Si Wo Wen. on Miss Evan.

Chinese/Pinyin/English lyrics available under the cut.

Version by original singer (Babystop_山竹):

Version by voice actor (Ma Zhengyang):

(Credits: 君有疾否广播剧 by 惊弦怀声工作室 on Miss Evan FM. Full credits are accessible via either of the two hyperlinks for the audio tracks above. I own nothing but the translation of the lyrics and the translation notes.)

No Man's Land 《无人洲》 Wú Rén Zhōu

城中雪满缀上 了枝头 你只怜取凝望 眼前酒 而我发梦 只想同你共白首 In the city, the tree branches are blanketed in fallen snow. You care only to gaze at the wine before you, While I dream only of spending my ripe old years beside you. ♪

揉碎 闲言纷纷册 一同 成落俗谈说 我亦 低叹曾拥过 浸雪又似淬火 Ripping apart the idle sayings created by wagging tongues, We, as the objects of the vulgar gossip, descend as dust together. I, too, softly lament that I’ve once embraced you, Drenching myself in snow while quenching myself in fire.

一雪 东风不知恶 须得 我作薄情客 剑挑 此曲淋漓歌 无梦也似梦过 A single snowstorm cleans the eastern wind of evil [1]; It forces upon me the role of the evildoer. The sword chooses the song from which saturated droplets cascade. Although I do not dream, I still feel as if I have.

[chorus] 城中雪满缀上 了枝头 你只怜取凝望 眼前酒 而我发梦 只想同你共白首 In the city, the tree branches are blanketed in fallen snow. You care only to gaze at the wine before you, While I dream only of spending my ripe old years beside you.

梨落如雪惊散 一庭愁 怒王侯斥贵胄 无端弦上扣 剑光凌厉 温柔拂雪你肩头 The courtyard descends into despair as the pear blossoms scatter like snowflakes. My enraged reproach of the royals and nobility are as if arrows from the bowstring I draw without rationality [2]. The sword gleams glaringly as the falling snow lands on your shoulders.

挂剑 浩荡征九州 为你 肝胆唇下剖 怎忍 金台帝前叩 谁人岂能无咎? I hang my sword up [3], conquering the Nine Provinces [4]. For you, I would slice open my liver, lips and gall, coming clean about it all [5]; But for the emperor, I wouldn’t bear to kowtow on the golden stage [6]. Does any human exist who hasn’t committed a single sin? [7]

今夜 相思若可求 何必 纵酒飞雪楼 若你 拥帝长荣后 肯为我白骨收 Should lovesickness ask for me tonight, I need not drown my sorrows in a tower amidst flying snow, As long as you are willing to collect my bones [8a] After the emperor grants you his eternal glory. [8b]

[chorus] 城中雪满缀上 了枝头 你只怜取凝望 眼前酒 而我发梦 只想同你共白首 In the city, the tree branches are blanketed in fallen snow. You care only to gaze at the wine before you, While I dream only of spending my ripe old years beside you.

将你囚于心上 无人洲 那里尚长安游 灯火不曾休 琼楼撞酒 今朝不必识春秋 I imprison you in my heart—the no man’s land. You still wander Chang’an, where the lanterns never dim. The jade tower accosts the wine; today, we need not acquaint ourselves with history. [9]

醉眼望去云台 翻了酒 车马易走唯独 你难留 玉阶无声，相思更在第几楼? My inebriated eyes gaze towards the terrace of clouds, and the wine has been spilt. As the horsecarriages travel to and fro at my disposal, you’re the only one I struggle with keeping behind. On which floor along the silent jade stairways does lovesickness reside?

将你囚于心上 无人洲 那里尚长安游 灯火不曾休 月色盈头 独你世间第一流 I still imprison you in my heart—the no man’s land. You still wander Chang’an, where lanterns never dim. It’s the night of the full moon, and you are the best across the lands. [10]

-----------------------------♪♪♪------------------------------

Translation notes:

[1] 一雪 东风不知恶 (literally, ‘a single snow(flake); the northern wind knows no evil’) – This phrase may be a parallel of the idiom, 一雪前耻, which means ‘a single snow (wipes you of) previous shames/sins’. In the translation, the literal meaning was combined with the meaning that might be implied here by the aforementioned parallelism.

[2] 无端弦上扣 ‘unreasonably pulling the strings taut’ – This might be a metaphor meaning ‘selfishly increasing the tension amongst the masses and the imperial city’ and/or ‘selfishly putting everyone in danger’. Putting it vaguely to prevent potential plot spoilers, similar things do happen in the story, likewise instigated by ‘kings and dukes’’.

[3] 挂剑 (lit. ‘hang sword’) – An act of remembrance/promise for a deceased companion. Again putting it somewhat vaguely to prevent spoilers, this line might be related to Chu Mingyun’s backstory.

[4] Nine Provinces – The division of nine territories/regions and islands used during the Xia and Shang dynasties.

[5] 肝胆唇下剖 (lit. ‘cutting the liver, gall and lips’)  – This line might be a variant of 剖���沥胆 (lit. ‘to cut the liver and drain the gall’), which means to be open and honest, i.e., ‘to bare one’s heart’. I tried to express both the literal and metaphorical meaning while adding a little of rhyming here.

[6] Golden stage – The arena designated by the emperor (hence ‘golden’) for recruiting talented subjects. It may be thought of as symbolic of the emperor and his inherent position above the other members of the imperial court and the masses, especially given the idea that the stage is a heightened platform.) An possible alternative reading of this line is something like ‘I can’t bear to let you kowtow before the emperor on the golden stage’ (e.g., baiwu-jinji, 2023). Quite torn between the two readings, but ultimately went with ‘I can’t bear to kowtow before the emperor on the golden stage’ because it adheres to Chu Mingyun’s stance towards the emperor in the novel, and also because Chu Mingyun’s attitude towards Su Shiyu’s allegiance to the emperor does not seem to be heartache/pity.

[7] 无咎 – lit. ‘making no mistakes’. This phrase may have originated from the I Ching (Book of Changes).

[8] Lines 8a and 8b in the translation have been switched in terms of positioning to facilitate the sentence’s flow in English. (E.g., 8a should actually be the last line of the stanza, and 8b the second last.)

[9] 春秋 – Literally, ‘spring autumn’; figuratively, this may be interpreted as a metaphor for ‘year’, as well as ‘past years / history’. [10] ‘Night of the full moon’ and ‘best across the lands’ – possible references to Chapter 33. The moon reference is reminiscent of the setting of Chapter 33, while the compliment-like phrase is reminiscent of a comment Chu Mingyun makes regarding Su Shiyu in that chapter: 江南第一，远不如你 (‘not even the best in Jiangnan can remotely hold a candle to you’).

Reference list for translation notes:

Baiwu-jinji. (2023). Jun You Ji Fou (君有疾否) appreciation/audio drama songs translation post. Retrieved April 3, 2025, from https://tumblr.com/baiwu-jinji/707210504122318848/…

司马迁 [Sima Qian] (c. 91 BC). 史记 [Shiji; Records of the Grand Historian].

Exact author unknown. (c. 9th cent. BC). 易经 [I Ching / Yijing; Book of Changes].

[deadboyswalking]

5 Quick Tips For Writing Child Characters

1. Really, really pay attention to the age of the child you're writing. I've read a lot of fics where a 7 or 8 year old is written like a 3 year old. By age 4-5, children can speak their native language fluently and are pretty easy for others to understand. They may struggle with higher-level unfamiliar words, idioms/metaphors, and complex questions (especially if they're hypothetical), but they will not baby-talk unless they have a language disability. Most children can bathe and dress themselves alone by age 5-6 (though they may need some supervision/instruction for hygenic reasons before age 8 or so). Research and use references for normal human growth so you understand how big an average kid of a certain age would be.

2. Children's lives are context-based and their perception of what is normal/expected is learned from their home environment. It is perfectly normal for a child of any age to feel scared or unsure in an unfamiliar environment, and they'll look to trusted adults for reassurance. If there are no trusted adults around, many kids will have a strong emotional reaction at the sudden reminder that they are a small person alone in a very big and strange world. Unless they grew up being encouraged to participate in adult conversation, many children are very shy about speaking to adults, especially ones that they don't know very well. Like other people, children have opinions, questions, and thoughts. Their culture and home life will determine how comfortable they feel expressing those things. Unfortunately, this is also why many abused children think that what they're experiencing is normal and acceptable. A young boy might know that he's scared of his father, but until he is told otherwise, he'll probably assume everyone's father is scary and that's just how life is.

3. Children usually have a lot of curiosity about the adult world, but their perception of it and imitation of adult behavior/speech is often hilarious. Again, it's that lack of context. If you don't believe me, listen to a 5 year old have a pretend phone conversation. It's clear that they're mimicking their caregivers with the phone phrases they use, but they have no idea what those phrases actually mean. I have Movie Quote Parents, so I know that I was saying all types of things as a kid without even realizing I was referencing something.

4. With that being said, don't fall into the "From The Mouths Of Babes/Children Say The Darndest Things" trap. Children are not inherently truthful (though they're not exactly good liars) and as stated, often totally misunderstand things because of their lack of context. The Precocious Honest Wisdom Of An Innocent Little Angel is, in my opinion, very annoying, overly sentimental, and inaccurate. This is my "please stop having cutesy child characters tell two oblivious adults they're in love with each other" plea to the universe.

5. Speaking of "childhood innocence" as a concept, I don't think it exists. "Childhood innocence" is truthfully "childhood ignorance." For most people, it slowly wears away as you grow up and learn more about the world. Children also have a capacity for cruelty, just like adults, and their mimicry of adult behaviors/opinions/speech (without critical thinking skills) can be just as hurtful to other kids. There's a much darker side to losing childhood ignorance as well. Even leaving out how much kids lie and how deliberately mean they can be, many children go through or are exposed to horrific things at a young age. A child who has had to grow up fast due to trauma or lifestyle or simple necessity won't exactly have that rosy, idealized picture of childhood innocence.

This was a long post! 😅 I hope you find it helpful.

[rena657]

Devil Moon explanation (again)

I did this before without the chorus, but now Full song.

(As of June 9, 2025… I forgot to put this while, doing this analysis oopsie. Here is the link in Youtube)

Intro chorus: Reclaim my throne The dark angel inside me Honor and victory A warrior with pride Humanity will see I have no place for weakness Sparda will live in me The answers, I will seek

Sparda will live in me The answers, I will seek talks about Vergil seeking answers. I think its what he thinks after the fire accident during First Redgrave Incident, when he was 8 years old

1. Lost in a dream Demons in my mind Calling for me to release this burden Leave no stone unturned My birthright will be mine “Calling for me to release this burden“  Talks about his burden of responsibility being the elder son of Sparda and Eva, and him thinking that his family is already dead and he is alone

According to Britannica, "To leave no stone unturned" is an idiom that means to do everything possible to find something or to solve a problem.

In this case, Vergil wants to find something to solve his problem. This correlates to him researching regards to Sparda and learning who Mundus is. Another can be him practicing Iaido

"My birthright will be mine" Birthright or Inheritance means the right or possession to give something to a person according to their position in the family. To which case, Vergil inheriting the Yamato

It can also be a reference for this and him wanting to get rid both of his trauma and feeling of powerless

2. Fight to be free My battle rages onward  I’ll be standing at the end of it all

Mundus found Vergil first, because he didn’t change his name oppose to Dante. 

"Fight to be free" or fighting for his freedom against the demons, his nightmare

"My battle rages onward", is his battle alone revenge to the one who did this to his family

"I'll be standing at the end of it all" can be him envisioning that he wanted to win his battle against demons

Struggling to find The only love I needed I’ll continue on  

At this point, he thinks that Eva didn’t love and care him. He is finding a replacement.. Someone who will love him. Think of it as him coping mechanism to his childhood trauma. He is struggling, until he met Lady in Red or Nero’s mother in Fortuna at 16 or 17.

Chorus: Reclaim my throne, alone The dark angel inside me Honor and victory A warrior with pride Humanity will see I have no place for weakness Sparda will live in me The answers, I will seek Every day

Sparda will live in me The answers, I will seek Every day - His frantic research regarding Sparda according to Dante in Deadly Fortune

3. Secrets untold In my mind reliving moments Tormenting me, unending

Untold can be him not saying to everyone including LiR about his trauma or only saying it to LiR. But I prefer the 2nd one due to how important Vergil is to her. There are too many reference not just from this pachinko song that describes that Vergil really did love her. For him, he trust her not to tell his secrets to anyone. His secrets are his trauma that he is still reliving like a nightmare. Just like Dante in DMC1 novel and DMC3 manga

During his research, he knows who Mundus is. I theorize that Sparda didn’t tell to his children who he really is. It’s more of a secret, and I think Vergil realizes that majority of his stories are true and not fantasy. It to correlates to the line “Sparda will live in me The answers, I will seek Every day” in the 2nd chorus. We can also say that the answers he needed to get his revenge against the deaths of his mother, Dante, and Sparda is in Temen-ni-Gru. But..

I've seen angels fall With strength, I will go on

Tragedy struck again.. His life became dark again so.. imagine his life from light > dark > light > dark. Light meaning peace, happiness and dark well.. tragedy, disaster, trauma. The lyrics saying “angels” is not literally angels, but a compliment how he sees Eva and Lady in Red as angels. Them being the kind, and caring people for him. Even though he despise his mother, he still loves his mother. So he sees in separate age timeline both of them died in front of him.

With strength, I will go on He left Fortuna at this point around 18, before he met Arkham.

4. Born into this world My innocence was stolen Screaming, helpless Yelling into the void Nor will the emptiness That I’ve forsaken Crucify my soul

The root cause of his trauma is still what happened during the 1st Redgrave Incident. Imagine somewhere around 18 yrs old you see the love of your life died in front of you and you’re remembering what happened to your childhood.

Chorus: Here on my throne, alone The dark angel revived me Power and majesty Eternal fight for life

"Eternal fight for life" can be also talk about Vergil (19 y.old) challenging Mundus in DMC3, until he was defeated

Humanity will see I make no room for sadness

Sparda will live in me Corruption, I will seek Until my grave

Yeah.. you get the idea regarding the Corruption, I will seek. Until my grave

Finale: Reclaim my throne, alone The dark angel inside me Honor and victory A champion with pride Dante: "A man with guts and honor. I like that, but it's a shame you serve Mundus!" (DMC1).

Vergil became Nelo Angelo after his defeat, when he was still 19. 9 years of grueling agony and torture at the hands of Mundus before he was freed by Dante, since both of the twins are already 28 years old

Humanity will be The only place for weakness Father will live in me The answers will be mine Until my grave

The answers will be mine It can be Force Edge or anything regarding Sparda's sword that's it, then why? well.. let's rewind what Sparda did for Locking the Temen-ni-Gru after the war 2000 years ago.

Vergil needs the Perfect Amulet, and Force Edge to combine it again to become Devil Sword Sparda. The only reason why Vergil wanted to go to hell alone is a revenge against Mundus, because Mundus himself was already anticipated it

This part is a theory: In the original post, I also pointed this out regarding the difference of I have no place for weakness, and The only place for weakness. There are 4 chorus overall in Devil Moon. First 3 uses the I have no place for weakness, and the last part uses The only place for weakness 

I have no place for weakness - talks about the after effects of his mother died in front of him abandoning his humanity. How he is dealing with his childhood trauma. We know Vergil saw Eva's corpse in front of him, while the manor is burning. Him rejecting his humanity and all that, and how he still have a grudge/hate against his mother

The only place for weakness - Vergil admitting it after seeing Lady in Red died in front of him. Humanity is his weakness, therefore in order to become stronger, he needed power.

Why he needed power?

One fan theory is like a blanket for protection.

Another is mine because of this song....

A revenge against Mundus, if Vergil won or just ignored Dante and he already combined it. He has a chance of defeating Mundus, but because of his wounds and exhaustion after his last battle against Dante due to rivalry he was defeated or he is doing this as the elder sibling. The elder sibling who protects his younger sibling, Dante is his only Sparda family member left (well... there is Nero who is still a baby, but they don't know he exist and alive)

[kyiratodoroki]

An MHA AU where things go (a lot) more in the villains' favor, even if things start out a little rough for the 19-year-old Blue Flame. 😏 Dabi is living on the streets and struggling through the day-to-day need to survive, but things may soon take a turn that no one in Japan saw coming.

A title is in the works...

Edit: A title has been chosen...

🌒🌟🌘Transilience🌒🌟🌘

an abrupt change or variation

CW: Language - lots of bad language 😂 - violence in the future - things will probably get dark - I rarely write anything that isn't dark in some way

🌒🌟🌘

"This fucking sucks."

That's what Dabi thought as he hoisted himself over the windowsill and dropped to the ground. He swore under his breath as the full moon slipped from behind the clouds and flooded the alley with light as if determined to expose him. He hastened his pace, slipping into the shadow of the building next door as a siren erupted in the distance.

This had been his life for the last two - no, maybe it was three - years. He lost track somewhere between then and now. His primary focus revolved around survival. Food. Shelter. He spent most of his days figuring out how to keep himself alive and out of trouble. It was all in the hope that one day he'd be able to crumble the foundation of society and shatter the illusion of perfection the masses had been brainwashed into believing about the heroes they idolized.

Propaganda spewed by the Hero Public Safety Commission put the heroes on a pedestal, made it seem like the title came with a guarantee of virtue and honor, like somehow those who wore it were incapable of being assholes with the same flaws every other human being possessed. Lying. Cheating. Narcissism. Betrayal. Being a hero didn't make someone a good person, but being a hero did make most people look the other way when the "hero" did something *unheroic*.

That needed to change. One way or another, he was going to make sure it did, but it was a goal he couldn't fulfill from the inside of a prison cell.

Dabi dodged in and out of alleyways, cut through three empty lots, and scaled a chainlink fence. The sirens eventually died down, taking the edge off his nerves. When he felt confident no one was following, he doubled back and headed for the condemned piece-of-shit he'd been calling home since the beginning of summer. It sat on the outskirts of one of the worst neighborhoods in the city, which lowered the risk of being discovered by a random hero. They never came around the area unless it was unavoidable.

Thirty minutes later, he got "home" - for lack of a better word. The back door hung askew. It had a broken hinge and a large crack in the wood that had already extended a few inches since he'd found the place. Every window was boarded up except for the narrow one over the kitchen sink and one in the upstairs bathroom, which didn't close the whole way and had no screen. There was at least one hole in most of the floors, and the staircase had a busted step he had to remember to avoid. At least the roof kept everything dry when it rained. For now.

He pried the door open and stepped into the kitchen, scanning the tiny space for any sign of intruders. It was dark, save for the muted light filtering through the grime-caked window, so he probably wouldn't see shit unless someone was standing right in front of him. He sighed and tossed his bag on the counter before lighting a nearby candle with a fingertip. It didn't increase his visibility much, but it wouldn't draw attention either.

The wear and tear of life on the streets gnawed at the edges of his resolve. He'd never abandon his dream, but damn, the day-to-day left him feeling frayed. The phrase "ready to fall apart at the seams" came to mind, but in his case, the idiom was far too literal for comfort.

Dabi pushed down his exhaustion and frustration and tried to focus on the weeks to come. Winter was on the horizon, and his current residence left a lot to be desired even in the best weather. The cold wasn't an issue, but he didn't know exactly how sturdy the roof was. For all he knew, it might cave in under the first heavy snow.

"Late night?"

He didn't bother to turn towards the voice, pulling out three bowls and a few bottles of water. "The fuck do you want?"

"No need to get hostile. Do I need a reason to visit my buddy?"

Dabi barked out a laugh as he grabbed a plastic fork from the nearby box of silverware. "Buddy? That's a good one."

"Dabi -"

"Fuck you, bird. I'm nothing but your self-appointed charity project." He popped the lid off one of the bowls and threw it into a nearby garbage can - not like there was water to wash it - then stabbed the fork into something resembling rice and beef. Hopefully, the dark spots were seasoning and not mold this time. People needed to clean out their damn refrigerators more often. "Besides, I don't think all your little hero friends would approve of you hanging out here."

Dabi shoved a forkful of the leftovers into his mouth and scowled as he chewed. It wasn't moldy, but it tasted like shit. The rice was undercooked, and he suspected those dark spots were bits of burnt... something. It was impossible to tell. He swallowed anyhow and took another bite. He hadn't eaten since the previous day.

The silence went on for so long that Dabi finally turned around, half expecting to find himself alone, but Hawks was still standing in the kitchen doorway. Shadows obscured most of his face, making his expression hard to read, but Dabi swore he looked hurt. The light shifted, and then the hero was grinning.

*Gotta be my imagination.*

"Hey, I'm not the type to worry about what other people think." Hawks shrugged. His feathers rustled. He moved further into the room and gestured towards the table. "I brought some stuff."

Dabi choked down another mouthful of food and glanced at the table sitting next to a refrigerator with a missing freezer door. When he left, the surface was cluttered with bottles and cans and an overflowing ashtray. All of it had been cleared away and replaced with a case of water; a few cloth bags, which he assumed contained food; and a pillow and blanket.

He glared at the items, his grip on the bowl tightening. The hero had a lot of nerve showing up out of nowhere with his damn pity gifts. He was probably proud of himself for helping out the "less fortunate" or some shit; as if this one small act somehow made the world a better place.

It didn't change anything.

His eyes narrowed when he noticed a box tucked in between two of the bags. Even in the dim light, the bright white logo on its side was visible. Hinode Donuts The high-end pastry shop was located on the far side of Musutafu, and he'd only been there once It pissed him off even though his mouth watered at the sight.

During the previous winter, he'd taken up residence in a nice little house in Minami Ward to escape the bite of a particularly nasty cold snap that had settled over the city. The owners were on vacation, so he helped himself to a warm bed and a pantry filled with instant ramen amd chips.

One of the neighbors must have noticed his presence because the winged rookie showed up in the middle of the night about three days after he got there. Maybe Dabi should have been grateful it was the bird that answered the call. Hawks somehow figured out the nature of the situation and stayed cool even though Dabi attempted to instigate a fight. The hero offered to help him find a job and a place to stay. He wasn't stupid enough to fall for the bullshit kindness routine, but he did grudgingly allow Hawks to buy him a large coffee and half a dozen doughnuts before blowing off his warning to stay out of trouble in the future.

For the remainder of the season, Dabi stayed at a questionable hotel, earning his room and a few spare bucks by running errands he knew would make the bird regret letting him go. It's not like he had a choice, and he was used to the dirty work by that point. Morals didn't equal survival in the streets, and if he was anything, Dabi was a survivor.

"Why the hell do you keep showing up here?"

"I just can't resist the hospitality."

Dabi rolled his eyes as he tossed the bowl in the garbage, unable to stomach any more of the mystery leftovers. The bird was an idiot, putting them both at risk. Dabi meant it when he said the hero's friends wouldn't approve. If one of them caught on and followed him, Dabi knew he'd be royally fucked. A few of the jobs he'd done recently had gotten more attention than he liked. Hawks had to be aware of the situation, but here he was with that stupid cover-boy smile and his damn doughnuts.

"Look, Dabi, I know you think I'm -"

A loud bang from upstairs stopped him short. His eyes widened, and Dabi growled, his left hand bursting into flames. The flickering blue light sent an array of shadows twisting up the walls and across the ceiling as the crackle of fire filled the sudden silence.

This turn of events wasn't a complete surprise. Heroes weren't trustworthy. Some part of him - very deep inside - had begun to think maybe Hawks was different from the rest. He'd almost been willing to consider the possibility this hero had a genuine intention to help rather than try to trap him or fuel his own ego. Dabi ignored the pang of disappointment and focused on the sense of relief that came with the fact that he never let his guard drop completely.

"Should've cooked you when I first had the chance."

Hawks threw his hands up in surrender, shaking his head. "Whoa, wait! I don't have a clue what that was. I swear, I came alone."

"Not buying it, hero."

A crash erupted from the livingroom, followed by a series of thuds accented with curses that echoed through the house. The second intruder wasn't doing anything to hide their presence, and Dabi questioned whether the bird might be telling the truth after all. If he wasn't, his choice for backup sucked.

"After you." Dabi grinned, gesturing towards the doorway with the flames still dancing on his fingertips, eager for action. There's no way he was getting caught between the two.

Hawks hesitated before passing through the archway. Dabi followed, every muscle tensed in anticipation. The livingroom was darker than the kitchen. All the windows were covered in boards and newspaper, which allowed him to move around well enough during the day but made getting around damn near impossible once the sun set. He'd memorized the landscape of the space. Broken furniture littered the floor, and there was a two-foot hole near the massive bookcase that blocked the front door. He spent most of his time in the master bedroom on the second floor where he kept a small lamp and a futon and could move around a little more freely.

"Heeey, Dabi, did you know there's a step missing... Wait! What are you doing here?"

Dabi groaned when he recognized the voice and stepped around Hawks to confirm his suspicion. Sure enough, a black-clad figure at the bottom of the staircase was climbing to his feet as he rubbed his head. A mask hid his face, but his confusion was apparent as he stared at the winged hero.

"How the hell do you people keep finding me? You'd think I was advertising my fucking location on the internet!"

Dabi turned on a heel and extinguished his flame as he went back to the kitchen, leaving the other two in darkness.