#but hey i am nothing if not committed to my aesthetic

[copiawife]

i'm sooo eepy now and my feet hurt but i had a good dayyyy i have one more full day at the park tomorrow and then [REDACTED]

[yukirayu]

hii! i am absolutely blown by your analysis of Taku and Madarame: To Heal and To Hurt, and it gave me alot more insight into how Taku is a great foil for other characters. i kept thinking about the CG artwork of Taku's painting. it seems like the vacancy of the center square might represent the removal of a webtag or even the eventual disappearance of Towa's past trauma which Taku tried so hard to suppress. do you have any thoughts on the painting as a whole?

Hi, I apologize for replying to this several months later. Sorting through my drafts/WIPs or the things I need to do in general got me rather distracted, to say the least, but I am committed to seeing this through.

Thanks so much of course for reading and liking the metas. I'm always glad to hear that others like it and that I've managed to get the message through.

Now as for my opinion, I will give the disclaimer that said opinion is greatly inspired by what this person said in their breakdown of the paintings, as well as an art I saw that did their own breakdown about what the red square represented.

If anything, I may as well be parroting what they said in the site, albeit with different wording; since as someone who has no experience in art, analyzing paintings isn't exactly what I'd call my strongest suit let alone something I have confidence in.

But true enough, the image does really give off the image of a medical patch that Taku is trying as hard as he can to keep intact by either reapplying or patching over with a new one... even if he can't keep truly contain the "blood" that is the pain and trauma left by Towa's past, or even Taku's own hurts that are both connected to Towa's ordeal and the tragedy that he had contended with alone (his mother and the debt he had accrued as a result of his family situation) even before Towa came along.

It might even represent how Taku has a hard time keeping his own troubles in check and is better (or at least more proactive and willing) at doing the same for others. Because try as he might, the cracks start to show (or bleed, in this case), partly because he's not good at lying or hiding things, and partly because there's only so much he can handle until he finally snaps from it all; hence why he has a darker side that manifests in his route, where the way the plot progresses makes things reach a breaking point for him.

That aside, from purely aesthetic point of view, it is relatively simple looking, especially when you compare it to the other paintings. Like I've said, I'm no artist myself, so I can't really give a good description of what I think of this and that painting without risking coming across as pretentious and such. But at the very least, I find it pleasing to look at because of its simplicity.

One other thing about it that I think is rather understated (as well as incredibly touching) is how it's the only painting that gets featured in the cover for the AfterStory drama CDs. I think that this is becase while it's a very apt visual reflection of Taku's guilt and burdens, which Towa knows very well with how perceptive he is (and it's even the focus of his Interrogations with Taku), it is also a representation of Towa's own longing for Taku the entire time the latter was in prison.

Heck, it even becomes a topic of conversation in the first track, which leads to one of my favorite moments between them:

Towa: You’re not going to ask me who’s the inspiration of those paintings? Taku: …No…  Towa: You’re not interested in knowing?  Taku: That’s not it…! But… Towa: But?  Taku: (slightly insecure) Of course I’m curious. I mean… who were you painting?   (Towa says nothing and simply chuckles at Taku’s cluelessness.) Taku: (flustered and annoyed) Hey…! Towa: (still a hint of laughter in his voice) Oh, sorry. I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to figure it out, so I just…  Taku: …What do you mean by that? Towa: (moves closer to Taku) All those paintings, who do you think they are of? (leans even closer and answers in an affectionate whisper) Murase… Takuma.

It's really telling that after Towa paints something, he no longer really cares for it and doesn't mind whatever anyone else does to it. But this painting, he treasures it enough to keep it in Taku's apartment (or rather, their home, together).

That, and one other significant detail: when it comes to Towa's modus operandi regarding his painting, he only ever paints each model once, no exceptions. Why? Because he wants to capture the very first time his model's innermost desire is fulfilled; in other words, when their euphoria is at its apex. It's why he won't agree to a second time, since the impact is no longer the same.

However, the narration for Taku's Euphoria ending as well as some other lines from Towa in the drama CD made it apparent that while that painting with the white splotches and the red square is his magnum opus of Taku, there were countless other paintings and sketches that he made of the man.

His way of coping, of waiting for Taku to serve his time, to reflect and come back a changed man, was to reflect his memory and feelings for him on paper and canvas, over and over and over, each one definitely distinct from one another (even if we never get to see those other artworks).

So... there. I hope that I still made sense at the end of this post, and I really hope it was a satisfactory answer for you. Again, I am so sorry for the delayed response, but I really appreciate getting this ask. 🥺

[1moreff-creator]

DRDT - Milgram AU: T1 "Voice Reveal" Lines

Hey there! Back at it with this AU. I figured if I'm going to commit to the bit, I might as well commit fully. At the start of every Trial, Milgram gives a sneak peak at some of the lines which will appear in the VDs, combined with "glitchy" lines which relate to their murder. So I'm doing that too! Keep in mind this is not professional in the slightest, so exact wording might change between now and when I actually post the VDs. Especially since it's been a while since I rewatched DRDT so the wording could feel a bit off. Anyways, here we go!

Implied DRDT spoilers and heavy themes. Again not affiliated with either of the series

Btw I'm using crossed out text for aesthetics but there will be a transcript at the bottom if you have trouble reading that.

01- "Levi Fontana, a pleasure"

"Yes, I am a murderer"

"I can't bring myself to pretend to be sorry for what I did"

"I suppose I should watch the other prisoners to learn how normal murderers should handle themselves"

...

I know you didn't want this, but it had to be done

02- "Arturo Giles"

"Ugh. Do I really have to be judged by someone this ugly?"

"I'll have you know, I've never murdered anyone"

[Whispering] "I mean, there is... no, no, that wasn't my fault"

...

How was I meant to know?! Even if she's dead because of what I did, it's not my fault!

03- "My name is David Chiem"

"It seems there's been a mistake. But don't worry! I won't hold it against you"

"Mistakes can be corrected. It's not difficult to change, as long as you're willing to!"

"I try to be as positive as I can, since I know there's a lot of people that don't get the privilege"

...

AGH! CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT, YOU PIECE OF HUMAN GARBAGE?!

04- "Yo! Whit Young, nice to meet you!

"Are you really sure everyone here is a murderer?"

"That's wack"

"I don't remember doing anything suspicious! Yesterday was normal, the day before that was normal, the day before that... the day before that..."

...

My mom's really amazing! I love her a lot. I would do anything for her

05- "Tch. Ace Markey"

"You wanna fight?! Wait, fuck, you probably have weapons, don't you?! Shit, don't get any closer!"

"You think I'm a murderer?! Horseshit!"

"Get off your fucking high horse!"

...

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit shit shit, FUCK!

06- "Uhm... Nico... Hakobyan"

"I'm- I'm really sorry!"

"You're pretty weird"

"Ah! I'm sorry! Don't get mad at me!"

...

Why should I own up for the mistakes that someone else made?!

07- "J Moreno"

"What do you people really want? Ransom money? There's no way you're doing this just because you want to 'judge our sins' or whatever bullshit you're saying"

"Don't make me laugh. Find evidence I killed anyone, and then we can talk about murder"

"Do you really think you're going to understand everything I've been through, just with a silly little song? How arrogant are you?!"

...

What happened to her was nothing short of a tragedy. Sorry, but I will make no further comment

08- "Mmmm... Rose Lacroix"

"zzzzz"

"Ah, yeah. I killed someone"

"This really isn't that bad. At least I can paint here"

...

I wonder if I can be happy now

09- "H-Hu Jing"

"I know what I did was unforgivable..."

"I really am selfish... I'm scared of receiving the punishment I deserve"

"Please Forgive me!"

...

Wake up! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

10- "My name is Veronika Grebenshchikova!"

"If you don't mind, can you choose not to Forgive me?"

"Death sounds boring. I'd rather stay alive if you don't mind!"

"To Forgive what I did... it would be denying everything I believe about my life..."

...

[Cackling laughter, which trails off with a wheeze] I really am a monster...

11- "Arei Naegishi!"

"Pfft! God, you're pathetic!"

"Why the hell are we even here? How could anyone be stupid enough to do anything but Forgive me?"

"Are you really that much of an idiot?!"

...

WHO'S THE WEAK ONE NOW, HUH?!

12- "Uhm... Eden Tobisa..."

"Even when things are looking down, we just have to try our best, and trust each other!"

"I... I never wanted anyone to die!"

"Es... why are you doing this?"

...

Wh- What have you done?!

13- "Min Jeung"

"This is ludicrous. How are we meant to expect a fair judgement when your 'justice' is determind by one person's whims and biases?"

"When an institution is non-functional, it is highly illogical to indiscriminately tear it down. Improving the basis already in place is by far the most constructive way to conduct progress"

"There is no country in the world where I would be judged a murderer. To say one single prison has the authority to decide that I am is a flagrant display of vanity"

...

The condition has been met. There is no need for further intervention

14- "Alexander Matthews. Just call me Xander"

"Don't you see how broken this entire system is?! What makes you think you hold a monopoly over morality, huh?! What gives you the right to Forgive or Not Forgive?!"

"When something is rotten, you throw it away. It's the same with this twisted place!"

"...Warden?"

...

Ah... haha... I did it... You all can finally rest

15- "Charles Cuevas"

"I was hoping the Warden would be competent, at least, but clearly I was a fool to think that could ever be the case"

"Are you stupid?!"

"Warden... Es... I have a request"

...

Hgk...- Ack! ... Kch[sharp inhale]

16- "Teruko Tawaki"

"Are you okay?"

"You don't need to know anything about my crimes. I'm unforgivable. That's all you need, right?"

"If you can find a way to do it... Just kill me"

...

... [sigh] Why did I ever get my hopes up?

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

And there we go! Hope they weren't too ooc! Keep in mind different backstories could lead to slightly different personalities; this AU is canon-adjacent, not really canon-compliant. Levi's first trial is coming soon! Hope you enjoyed!

Huh? Secret message? Whatever are you talking about?

Here's the transcript of the glitchy lines:

01 - Levi: I know you didn't want this, but it had to be done

02 - Arturo: How was I meant to know?! Even if she's dead because of what I did, it's not my fault!

03 - David: AGH! CAN YOU DO ANYTHING RIGHT, YOU PIECE OF HUMAN GARBAGE?!

04 - Whit: My mom's really amazing! I love her a lot. I would do anything for her

05 - Ace: Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit shit shit, FUCK!

06 - Nico: Why should I own up for the mistakes that someone else made?!

(Yes it's just the secret quote on their page sue me it's a cool line)

07 - J: What happened to her was nothing short of a tragedy. Sorry, but I will make no further comment

08 - Rose: I wonder if I can be happy now

09 - Hu: Wake up! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!

10 - Veronika: [Cackling laughter, which trails off with a wheeze] I really am a monster...

11 - Arei: WHO'S THE WEAK ONE NOW, HUH?!

12 - Eden: Wh- What have you done?!

13 - Min: The condition has been met. There is no need for further intervention

14 - Xander: Ah... haha... I did it... You all can finally rest...

15 - Charles: Hgk... Ack! ... Kch[sharp inhale]

16 - Teruko: ... [sigh] Why did I ever get my hopes up?

[beanghostprincess]

Hey sweetie!! I realized I have been absent from your inbox for quite some time and that simply will not do, I am legally required to annoy people I like, it's the Law.

Therefore, I thus drop even MORE transfem Buggy ideas, silliest, and snippets in the hopes of making you smile and/or laugh bc you deserve nice things I wanna throw them at you ♡♡♡♡♡

• Buggy coming out as trans over the course of a loooooong time, where she had Inklings of it young (Buggy+Toki bonding my beloved), and for a while just went "it is what it is, it's my nose that makes me hate mirrors so much-" and thus reclaiming the nose with the clown aesthetic and commitment to the circus bit. And it's enjoyable, really, the colors and patterns are So Good, and the makeup feels WONDERFUL, and all dolled up, Buggy doesn't want to punch the mirror quite so much.

It's only with Alvida and their Mean Girls Gossip Club being founded that there are some late night, semi-drunk conversations and Buggy says something like "everything sucks but I think things would be better if I were born a girl, ya know-?"

Cue Alvida taking that as a "women have it easy" type of thing (it's not), and so she and Buggy make a bet - dress as a girl, go out for a night, and play the part. They pick a small, no name island, pick an equally small, no name town, and hit the bars there. And Buggy is.... thriving.

It's not all sunshine and daisies, and Buggy sees first hand what women experience, but there's a shift in the movements, in Her Chest, and suddenly things are clicking, she's stepping aside, she's off to the restroom, and she is staring into the mirror there, blue eyes wide and hair loose around her shoulders and she really Looks. Fingertips brush the cool, smooth surface before her, trembling with fear, with anticipation, with joy and grief and anger and love. She barely notices when Al comes up to her side, when a pale hand brushes her shoulder. It's the question which throws her.

"What are you thinking?"

And in the tiny little bar bathroom at Seas-knows-what-time, Buggy has a sudden accidental baptism, and Alvida takes her hands through it all.

Buggy comes home to her ship, her crew, with knowledge, with a new awareness, a new fear, a new joy.

Her crew are nothing if not welcoming, and when she tells them, faux-casual and already edging into defensive aggression, they are simply delighted. They are ecstatic. They don't even question it, just beam and offer hugs and ask if they should still call her Buggy and Captain and Ringmaster, because she is theirs and they are hers they will be as good for her as she is for them, by the Seas as their witness.

And Buggy is happy, is safe, is emotional, is loved.

• coming out publicly is an ordeal, especially with the media storm already occurring elsewhere. She doesn't even think to do it. It's her crew that bristle when someone misunderstood her, the first two times a passable correction, then a point of disrespect. People do not disrespect their captain lightly.

• An article is written about her, and the contents are.... unkind at best. Interestingly enough, another article is never published by that journalist, and there is now no trace of their existence beyond that point. It was not Buggy and her gang who did it, though.

• Crocodile and Mihawk are both bisexual, and they do not initially know of Buggy's gender identity until well into the Guild's existence, after that article full of heresay and guessing. Not many want to correct such powerful men, after all.

When it DOES come out, they don't even really treat Buggy any differently. Just nod, verify name, ask for pronouns, and it's back to business. It's refreshingly normal and bittersweet.

• when they eventually being courting Buggy asks if her gender is.... going to be a problem. Crocodile just sneers. "It'd be hypocritical of me to not date someone transgender. I may pass as cis, but I made myself into the man I am today. Who cares?"

Mihawk just kind of laces his fingers with hers and states that "your body is but a vessel, and I care only for the wielder. The forms of your body matter not to me beyond your own joys in it."

• they also go on to be rather protective of their girlfriend. Business transactions have, and will, be dropped if a group is not respectful of her or has a history of it. Money is money, certainly, but business is a gamble and the deck is stacked against them with such animosity. After all, would you trust someone visibly aggressive with you over an ambivalent stranger when both hold a gun?

• just for shits and giggles, open relationships, and Shanks being fucking FERAL for Buggy and it's an absolute hot mess because he loves his clown wife so much-

• extra funnies, many others ALSO love his clown wife. Including, to his dramatic betrayal and theatric tears, many in his own crew.

• Rayleigh shows up at Karai Bari without warning to give Buggy a piece of his mind - not about her being a woman, no, that's fine, he loves her regardless, but about how she hasn't called him even ONCE just to give him the news that he has a DAUGHTER, she KNOWS he wanted a little girl, Buglet, why have you hurt him so-?

"You never gave me your number???"

"I didn't??"

"NO?????"

"Oh."

"Yeah, OH, you senile old fart!!!"

"Hey, missy, no need for that kind of disrespect-"

• Luffy, Zoro, and Ussop bond over "my dad/dad-figure has done it with the clown lady" and Sanji is just laughing at their misery while Jimbei is trying so hard not to make eye contact lest they see his own clown fucking history ((it was one time but he wouldn't be against a repeat-))

I'm eepy so that's all I have now but ily nini ♡♡♡♡

HELLO SWEETIE HOW I'VE MISSED YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 I am so glad you're back for more ideas and headcanons of our wonderful Buggy 💖💖

Toki and Buggy bonding my beloved but I absolutely adore what you said about Buggy blaming her nose at first instead of like, actually thinking why her image bothers her so much,,, She doesn't want to think further about it so she just guesses it had to be the nose because it's the one thing that's wrong with her,, But then she has the whole "I wish I were a girl because it would be easier" mindset still after claiming the clown aesthetic,,, My girl,,,

And the way she finds out I am,,, Gonna cry,,, The way it starts as a bet and Alvida is genuinely mad at her at first for her commentary about women but then she sees Buggy visibly upset because she's having the realization™ in the middle of a crowd. And I can't stop thinking about how it'd be sweet and comforting and,, You know. It'd feel like a family, something they don't really seem a lot of times because of their catastrophic dynamic. But Buggy would feel seen and loved and she knows Alvida will be there for her through it all no matter what. It's kind of weird to be comforted by a younger woman and I think Buggy would feel a bit ashamed for that?? But Al would tell her that there is no age to support each other, especially in womanhood.

I love how protective her crew is but mostly how little Crocodile and Mihawk care about this 😭 They really said "well if this doesn't affect us I don't care what you are but at least we are going to refer to you properly because we are not monsters, thank you". And also Crocodile is trans so it just makes sense. And what the hell with Mihawk's words??? This man is so romantic when he wants to--

My favorite thing about this is everybody being extremely protective of Buggy. She deserves it. She's a queen. An icon. And everybody is in love with her. And Rayleigh is soooo father and I adore him,, He'd go there solely to see his girl.

And never forget Zoro and Luffy bonding over this, but the funniest part of all is how I am 100% sure that after transitioning Buggy is wayyy hotter and way more confident and Sanji would be head over heels for her like everybody else. So yeah, he laughs all he wants but he wishes he could pull Buggy like that-

And I hope you slept well!!! Mwah mwah mwah!!! Loved to see you here again sweetie 💖💖💖💖💖

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

your tolkien edits are always so lovely, do you have graphics editors that inspire you?

hey anon.. would you perhaps want to join me in a small and tumbledown cliff-side castle by the shining sea within whose shelter we can spend the rest of our days. circle yes or no

anyways!! tumblr is the school of athens and i am but a humble student sitting at the feet of greater talents, so here are a few of my biggest editing inspirations for your happy perusal:

@himemiyaaah / @tarninausta - probably my original editing inspiration back when i took my first waddling steps into making graphics myself! rosie just has such an amazing command of color, style, balance, etc.. her edits are so beautiful and harmonious, and i love her expressive use of text.

@miriel-therindes - also someone i discovered early on! i swear there isn't a form lyndeth hasn't tried her hand at and succeeded with in high style. her incredible sense and editing of colors and creative typography are just !!!

@arwenindomiel /@edwinas - the enormously talented mastermind behind tolkien south asian week! her edits are striking and have a real cinematic feel with bold, gorgeously cohesive color palettes (her dramatic shadows are spectacular) as well as innovative use of text and other graphic elements that just tie it all together each time.

@emyn-arnens - save me atlas of arda series atlas of arda series save me !! whenever i need inspiration on how to make dynamic edits that don't include people, i go to this master of her craft. her colors mesh so well together, her formatting is creative and refreshing, and her photo choices are on point. whence does her power flow.

@aredhels - so elegant and sleek! sari is so good at using all the parts of her edits to evoke the desired mood--for lack of a better word, everything she makes is just so aesthetic. i love her understated, low-text style and how she can make incredibly compelling edits just with her impeccable image choices and color editing. and besides all that she singlehandedly gave me the confidence to experiment with the eight-image picspam format yayay

@tilions - legendary user of non-text elements! i honestly have no idea how emily comes out with some of the image layering that they do. her edits feel professional-grade (hoping tentatively that this is a comparison that makes sense but who knows). she makes such bold color choices! it's easy to be scared off by bright palettes but apparently emily is immune to aesthetic fear. she also concocts these amazing silhouette edits that are like those 70s nasa posters and it's. so cool.

@russingon - i want to imbibe mayim's delicious color palettes into myself for real. something about them is so distinctive and pleasing! how much punch he can pack into a two-image edit never ceases to astound. i'm especially fond of their family/house edits (i love seeing their great faceclaim choices all together)!

@brighter-arda - toi is so endlessly committed to making the tolkien fandom a more diverse, inclusive, and accepting space, and i really admire all the work she puts in to uplift other creators. her own edits have really interesting and creative themes and formatting, and it's wonderful how she always incorporates meaningful elements of the character's culture.

@someoneinthestars - their use of darker colors is so evocative, and i love their latine tolkien series! they often align text to elements within the image, which takes such precision (i've only done it once, i think!), but when they do it it always comes out gorgeously.. awuagh.

@outofangband - the attention and research nelyo puts into their environmental edits could power three mid-size cities and i have nothing but respect for them and their dedication. honestly i think they know more about the ecology of middle earth than tolkien himself did when he made it (and he also never made edits about it, so another point to nelyo)!

anyways, this is only a cross-section of the plethora of amazing and talented people i get to share this community with, but i hope it was what you were looking for anon! many many thanks for giving me the ever-welcomed opportunity to kvell a little over some of my favorite creators, and as always, many many thanks to those creators themselves for sharing their spectacular works ♡♡♡

[samriddhikatariya]

Because Even Chudiyan Needed a High-Tech Makeover: ft. 2104 (EXERCISE1 DRAFT 1)

Ah yes, I am Chudiyan, born centuries ago from the organic resin of tiny lac insects, shaped over open flames by karigars (artisans), and worn by women rich and poor alike. I used to be the delicate circle of love, a little ornament worn during weddings. Back in the day, I was nothing more than a fragile piece of jewelry. I would break if you sneezed too hard or tried to carry groceries, but I was pretty. And that’s what mattered, right?

But then the world got bored of simplicity, didn’t it? By 2104, even I had to join the technological bandwagon. Yes, the world couldn't just leave a simple chudi alone—oh no, I had to evolve! And so here I am, a Lac Chudi, version 2104, packed with more technology than a spaceship. I’m no longer just about love, marriage, or making a pleasant jingle on a wrist. No, I’m here to change your life, record your emotions, and even remind you to take your vitamins. You’re welcome.

Let’s start with my origins—lac. Back in the day, artisans would heat up this lovely sticky resin and shape it into bangles. Chudiyan for everyone, from village women to queens. Rich women decked me out in gold and jewels, while poorer women kept me simple, but no matter who wore me, I was a constant. I didn’t discriminate. A rich bride or a poor one, I sat proudly on their wrists, signifying their bond to someone else. Romantic, right?

Now, fast forward to 2104. I’ve swapped out that fragile lac for bio-lac, but now with a twist—it’s alive. Yep, you heard me, right. I’m not just a bangle anymore, I’m a living, breathing, digital interface. I shift colors based on your mood (because clearly, we needed bangles to be mood rings), and I’m practically indestructible. Why break when I can now self-repair? After all, if your marriage has to last forever, so should I.

Oh, and don’t think I stopped there. No, no, I am now equipped with a quantum processor, because in 2104, even bangles need to have brains. I record everything—your emotions, your memories, your health metrics. That fight you had with your spouse? Don’t worry, I’ve got it saved in high-definition emotional data for you to relive later. I’m now a marriage counselor and emotional diary all in one. Why go to therapy when your bangles can do it for you?

And for those of you in long-distance relationships, fear not. Thanks to quantum connectivity, I sync with your partner’s Chudi across the globe, so you can feel each other’s emotions in real-time. Who wouldn’t want to be literally tethered to their spouse’s every mood, right? Whether your partner is having a great day or feeling particularly annoyed with you, I’ll let you know instantly. Because nothing says love like emotional surveillance.

But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my looks. Even in 2104, aesthetics still matter. I’m designed with the same intricate patterns and delicate craftsmanship that defined me in the past—floral etchings, geometric patterns, and traditional designs—but now, they come with augmented reality overlays. Tap me, and you’ll see hidden designs that shift in real time. Is it a bangle, or is it a personal art gallery? Who knows!

And don't even get me started on the stones. Diamonds and rubies are so yesterday. Now I’m embedded with holographic gems that change based on your preferences. You want rubies in the morning and sapphires by dinner? Done. It’s like jewelry with commitment issues, but hey, I’m versatile.

Now, talking me as a symbol of marriage. Marriage was once about commitment, but in 2104, it’s about data collection. And who better to collect it than me, your trusty, data-hungry Chudi?

Now, in a world where even your refrigerator can talk to you, why should bangles stay quiet?

Sure, some people might long for the simpler days when I was just a piece of jewelry symbolizing love and marriage. But let’s be honest—where’s the fun in that? You’ve got enough on your plate without having to worry about keeping your emotions to yourself. Let me take care of that for you.

After all, what’s marriage if not an endless exchange of data, emotions, and—of course—technology wrapped in a pretty little circle?

[petricakegames]

Devlog: General

Well, I've spent the last several hours smooshing my face against javascript and CSS in Twine trying to get it to do something that seems quite simple and yet it refuses to cooperate--so I'm taking a break to chatter here. The problem is: I know just enough code and syntax to break everything and not enough to fix it 😂

As the above implies, I've started some UI work for a new project! It's been two weeks since the game jam version of "Another Round" got published, and it's gotten some lovely reviews 🥰 and I still love it to bits. (You should play it, if you haven't. Or if you have. I've played it for fun a few times myself) I've been noodling around the edits I want to do--nothing major, some smoothing out, a bit of polish, another round (hah) of typo extermination. I'd like to have the final version done by the end of the year.

I am very new to Twine. I started poking it a year-ish ago but didn't get far beyond the basics of moving between passages. I've been taking it more seriously the last few months and (because I'm a Libra) spent most of my skill points in aesthetics. Designing a pretty UI has been more important than, oh, I don't know, actually making it a game. "Variables? Who needs variables when the vibes are good?"

Me. Turns out, it's me that needs variables.

Since the best way to learn is by playing, the only way to win is by learning and the only way to begin is by beginning, my next project is here to teach! Me..to teach me--I'm not making an educational game.

As part of the Alphabet Superset challenge, every week (ish) for the next six months I'll be posting an update to this game. Each "episode" will vary in length (b/n 500-5000 words) and focus on a theme from the spec fic section of tvtropes.org. Think 90s-era, monster-of-the-week style television with a surprising amount of heart and an unsurprising amount of camp.

You are an agent of [AGENCY NAME REDACTED]--a covert branch of the US Department of the Interior, tasked with the investigation and conservation of paranormal entities, objects and forces found within the United States. Folks, welcome to...

The scope of each "episode" will be small--only a few scenes, typically--which gives me something tangible to work on while I learn how to use Twine better. Six months is a daunting amount of time to commit to this, but my goal is to both grow my Twine skills and establish a supported routine around my creative process so, hey, the time is going to pass anyway. I may as well try, right?

Anyway, that's all for now. First episode will go up next Friday. But I figure it'll take a bit to build some steam. I've got to stop fixating on the damn UI...

okay, I'm gonna take a break and try to smooch a hot tiefling

[holsten-from-hasa]

echo watches dominion smp

viking pilot pov (hello tumblr jumpscare man)

anyway immediate thoughts: this guy is an embodiment of a wet rag, i want to wring him out and hang him up to dry. nice voice.

honestly more put together when confronted with thefacthes real now than i would ever be. 'hi yes ive been watching you for a while. hello' also set on fire so much. grilled viking

everyone on this server is slightly insane. i love them

viking has. the wildest sense of loyalty ive ever seen. like yes hes fix's friend. yes hes just vibing while the others spawn a warden. yes he told taneesha peoples favourite things. yes hes immediately telling said people where they are. hes just So.

little ghost boy. what crimes will he commit.

the iou collection?? hermitcraft enjoyer in me still remembers horse head farms and the head canons of those being souls. viking the soul collector i guess

he is in your walls. he is in my walls. he is skittering around between the bricks listening in on you.

how far is he willing to go for a legundo iou. because so far seems like fix is one of his actual friends.

also just realised. he is wearing his own severed head to let people see him. that is both really wholesome and. freaky.

taking the blame. for tax fraud. does our favourite ghost boy not know that you do not fuck with the irs.

'you comitted several crimes' his reaction to crouch and look at them. god.

i am losing my mind.

ALL OF THIS FOR AN IOU

this mans priorities.

GRADY UNDER THE SLAB. HIDING. he looks so sad.

grady is so.

he got the worst deal. viking youre so dumb.

love how his outro just. has his channel icon cover his face. someone just slapped his own sticker on there.

episode 4: viking loses his goddamn mind

legundo shivering the whole time makes it so much better.

'I DO NOT FEEL SAFE IN THE MURDER GRAVEYARD' whats wrong, legundo? do you fear death? do you fear confrontation with your own mortality? run. perhaps you will find safety under the burning sun. but perhaps you will not be alone.

i have no idea what im saying any more.

oh no.viking once again tkaing the fall for a crime. taneesha is a bad influence.

'wow whatcrimes did viking commit' 'oh, yknow, all the ones we tried blaming taneesha for' 'huh, wild'

GRADY IS THERE

this web of lies. my god.

grady just like 'youre full of shit yknow'

oh hey is now a good time to mention i tend to associate phantoms with cats.

i am so glad he told nuke. still viking has the wildest allegiances ive ever seen.

people i need to watch after viking: nuke and grady. they have such vibes, actually

changing taneeshas base from snowy wonderland toliteral hell.... beautiful.

'not a cult' idk guys might be a cult. but also void is such a good aesthetic

feeding the void. crunchity munchity

vikings one cncern is that theres no contact card. yeah ok nice priorities ghost boy. im having the time of my life here.

'take it to your grave type thing' 'oh wait i have a thing for that' because yes phantom man has a grave for his servermate. in the murder graveyard. normal person thing the have. definitely.

he literally just murdered someone. nice. i support him.

now they are bullying the man who is constantly trembling.

no object permanence.... they are best friends

casually blowing a hole in the wall of the irs' tax bunker. after being told repeatedly to not do it. just hot girl things ig

JUST PUT A BLANKET OVER IT SHE WONT KNOW

AND NOW THERES A WARDEN

beautiful. wonderful. they are so dead

vanessa....

'yeah btw jamie mightbe being corrupted by void'

also fun fact! i am guessing everyones origins as we go. i know nothing i went in blind. its great. nothing is explained i love life

this episode is a train wreck. its so so great

'SNEVE WERE GODS'

'yeah this is a good place' 'so what about the queens head right there' 'dwbi'

'i have a wish no one on the smp is prepareed for' oh no.

'it kinda transformed into its own, evil throne room' yeah ok thats perfectly normal. sure. vaults always turn into evil throne rooms. thats normal.

whats your plan viking. viking whats your plan

oh no hes gonna set legundo and fix againsteach other. i cant wait

lmao their concern over his laughs. dw guys hes just a silly lil guy. a buddy. not a murder ghost at alll

my new skrunkly is going insane. good for him

oh. good noises.

i love his evil laugh.

he got the carpet echest thing from tango!!! :D

for the record i am a tango tek enjoyer. he is my Guy tm

taneesha jumping around. bouncies.

LEGUNDO JUST SHIVERING. THE ENTIRE TIME

'the queen doesnt scare me' sir. poor move. probably.

YOU DO NOT FEAR THE VOID? THE ALL CONSUMING NOTHING? THE ETERNAL DARK?

oh. oh he just wants his memories back. hm what is going on here.

'i dont want to be a ghost forever. its lonely' ow. ow

viking the puppetmaster.... pulling the strings of chaos

finale time. oh god. im not ready actually

the PODIUM..... my god

JAMIE NO

'THIS MIGHT BE REALLY BAD' yeah the queen just got possessed by the void and flew off with the egg. and you think it MIGHT be bad???

'for chaos to be fun theres gotta be a world left' yeah. true

IT WORKED IT WORKED IT WORKED IT WORKED

he got nuggies!!!!

'nothing could possibly go wrong' legundo said, before everything went wrong

oh shit. ok. yeah ok that was. shitt

conclusion: viking dominionsmp is a pathetic wet rag and also a catboy who deserves to Kill. i fucking love this smp

[the-navistar-carol]

Okayokayokayokay. My weird-ass dream that @zee-has-commitment-issues has been wanting me to share with y’all. And since there is legitimately no way I can softball my way up to this: this was a dream where i was August’s love interest.

Yes, you heard that right.

(Would it be self-incrimination if I said that I genuinely liked August as a character [not as a person] for most of the show so far? Perhaps. Zee and our golden retriever friend thought I was insane when I pointed at him and was like “yeah that one.” Anyway.)

This dream took place within an hour, MAX, because this was after I woke up from my 8 AM alarm that I didn’t need, told Siri to set a timer for an hour, and went back to sleep. Honestly, it adds to the weird factor.

I don’t know what kind of a dream I was having before this one, but I know that I was having one. I can remember vague aesthetics of what was going on, like running around this church looking building, but I don’t remember what was in the dream. Either way, dream-me was wandering around this church building — completely alone — and that’s when the dream changes.

Because that’s when August showed up.

At first, I was very confused — in the dream, I remember thinking to myself “hey, why am I the one with the Young Royals setting? isn’t that Zee’s thing?” — but I roll with it, because it’s a dream. He says hi, we have a little chat, and that’s when it hits me.

Oh, this must be Malte. This must be his actor. I must be on the set for Hillerska, there’s no way I’m actually dreaming about August of all characters. How do I know this?

Because he was nice.

And so I carry on with the dream, thinking he’s Malte. He gives me a little tour of the church, and then we go outside. There are tons of people there, just walking around and having a good time. Internally, I’m thinking “wait a minute, if the cameras are rolling, I’m going to be in Young Royals and I’m not supposed to be there. What the fuck, am I about to be in Young Royals???”

But August — Malte — says nothing. So I go with it. Eh, maybe he’s leading me off set. That’s gotta be it. We talk about things, I don’t remember what, but again: he was very nice. Like, legitimately. Never got angry at me, never was anything less than an absolute blast to be around and get to know. It felt like I already knew him. Which is — since at the time I thought I was dreaming about a Swedish actor — VERY WEIRD.

Some time along this portion of the dream — since I still think it’s Malte — I tell him about Screwed. I mentioned Zee, how they’re my best friend, and how they wrote the fourth longest Young Royals fic on Ao3!!! I barely mentioned the plot other than “it’s an Erik Lives AU,” which is honestly probably for the better. This is not the weirdest part of my dream.

Anyway, as we’re walking along this grassy path, the scenery changes. It’s like we’re walking to a city. And that’s when the dream began to change, too. I began noticing people who were noticeably glaring at Malte — no, this is August now — although I didn’t see Wille. I did see Simon, though, or at least I thought I did. ‘Twas a very quick glance. We were walking through neighborhoods, and although I did ask him what was going on, I believe his response was something along the lines of “it’s okay.”

We get to this… airport turnstile?? area? which August just walked right through, but I paused at because they had cheese and crackers. I took a cracker and the boy who had the platter looked at me weird, so I also took a mini wheel of cheese. (I want that cheese. Now.) August had waited for me, so I caught up, and we kept walking. I was getting pretty nervous, so I asked again what was happening, and again he reassured me that it was okay.

And then someone pulls him away for questioning, and for some reason Captain America and Daredevil followed them into the room, and I was left alone. No I do not know why they were there. Total tone change from the rest of the dream. I guess Young Royals exists in the MCU, though. Wack.

So I’m left standing outside the door, where I had just seen my friend (I’m calling him a friend to my dream self at this point) be taken in for questioning, and I’m wondering if it has anything to do with The Video. Nobody says anything to me, though.

At least, until Stella of all people (with like three friends) pulls up in a car and tells me to get in. She was not driving, she had a driver. I would not trust Stella on the road, and apparently neither did my dream. Anyway. I really only remember two things from this bit, which was that Stella had a custom AirPods case that made it look like her AirPods were jewelry in a jewelry box, and that apparently she knew me before. And that I somehow had a reputation in her mind for having really dry skin. I was given lotion.

I was dropped off at this mansion looking house with a fountain and then my timer went off. All in all, weird-ass dream.

ADDENDUM: Zee has suggested that I write a fic where I give August a love interest because of this. I might. But it will have to be after I finish Aftershocks.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 310: A Tale of Two Kacchans

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Deku was all, “hey, you know what sounds like a good decision? Abandoning my studies at the safest place in the country so that the bad guy who wants to find me and kill me has literally nothing standing in his way of doing that.” All Might was all, “I fucking knew you were going to say some bullshit like that so whatever, but I’M COMING WITH YOU and I’m also going to invite the Hawksquad to come with us, mostly so that I can steal Jeanist’s car.” Jeanist was all, “okay fine you can borrow my car, All Might, but only if you wear jeans.” All Might was all, “okay sure” and he wore jeans and also sunglasses and a leather jacket and it was pretty rad. Anyway so now they’re out there fighting crime and hunting down the LoV and stuff, and absolutely none of it is going to end well, I’m just letting you know now. But I guess we’ll let them enjoy it while it lasts.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “happy belated Kacchan’s Birthday makeste, here’s the flashback you really wanted at long last,” and proceeds to pull the old vestige flashback out of the kitchen drawer and upend its contents all over my Friday afternoon without the slightest bit of warning. OFA III is all “WHAT’S UP I’M JUST SOME GUY, HELLO,” and okay?? Hello yourself. OFA II, on the other hand, is all, “okay yeah I have different hair and stuff, but I’m like 98% sure I’m either Bakugou or his goddamn twin, I mean look at me.” Which, yeah. I looked, and he really is though you guys. Anyway though, so he and OFA II basically just showed up in the First (who goes by Yoichi now)’s prison cell one day all “HEY THERE, WE’RE HERE TO SAVE YOU, APPARENTLY, ALTHOUGH WE SEEM REAL CONFUSED ABOUT IT TBH BUT HEY.” And so they saved him, and Yoichi was all “hey nice to meet you do you want to join my super-exclusive Saving The World Club”, and so they did, and then the chapter ended lol. I would have said yes too.

oh my sweet lord?? I didn’t realize we were getting a color page this week, but LOOK AT THIS

this could have been a fucking volume cover. I’m almost mad that it wasn’t, lol but I mean fkldjslklk just look at it??! Horikoshi out here spoiling us and making sure we’re well fed since next week the manga is on break for Golden Week. well this will certainly help to tide me over. hot damn look at those colors

so now it’s raining on some dumb building in the middle of somewhere

is this where the Hawksquad has set up camp for the night? or are we actually cutting back to the League? that’d be unexpected (but not unwelcome)

ffff nevermind dammit it’s just more random citizens under attack

feels like this is the third or fourth scene we’ve had of civilians being Under Attack since this arc started. I mean no offense, but I think we get it by this point. it’s the end times, etc. etc. we’re well aware that things have gone to shit

so apparently these two guys are facing off against a girl with a mutant quirk. and she’s telling them that she’s not a monster and she was just scared, oh shit. I believe her btw, you can see it in her face

but these assholes don’t believe her at all and they’re pointing what looks to be some type of support item gun at her

you know what’s interesting, is that this kind of random quirk discrimination is the exact kind of thing PLF and the like were swearing up and down they’d put a stop to with their glorious revolution. it’s almost like those guys were completely full of shit. huh

so yeah, fortunately for this woman someone is stepping in and intervening before she can be blasted to bits by this trigger-happy asshole for absolutely no fucking reason

looks like a hero actually stepped in and saved her?? but no that can’t be, heroes are the ones that ruin everything and make everything worse, or so I understand. lol where did all of this sarcasm come from out of nowhere dlkdsjlk I’m sorry guys I just suddenly got swept up in the hypocrisy of certain people’s philosophies out of the blue idek

anyway so it is of course Deku saving her, and now he’s trying to talk thess jerks down all diplomatically instead of just kicking their asses, which is certainly a choice

MOTHERFUCKER I’M

fucking impossible to miss the real world parallels here. shit. this woman nearly died for her crime of Walking While Having A Mutant Quirk huh. and meanwhile Deku is just letting this guy scurry away and even letting him keep that fucking bazooka of his, like, ????

fucking hell she’s crying!!

lmao this chapter is actively trying to make me mad now huh. that’s some genuine righteous anger I’m feeling on behalf of this fictional ferret lady whom I only met two minutes ago. girl you are not the one who needs to explain herself here!! you didn’t do anything wrong holy fuck. everything about this situation sucks so much

fkKJKLMMMHFGH

“I’m sorry I made you upset, please enjoy this panel of tiny!floating!Deku hefting this lady’s massive beach umbrella up for her like the fucking gentleman he is” well okay then thank you sir

and JUST LIKE THAT the tension is broken and I’m entirely incapable of taking the rest of this conversation seriously because Deku’s trying to be all calming and authoritative, but now the illusion has been broken because I know he only comes up to like her knees

“well thanks again for saving me young man. I’ll leave you to it, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do like protecting your Lucky Charms cereal from all those greedy children”

oh hey All Might

you wouldn’t have just let that guy with the bazooka just walk away to commit more attempted murders would you?? man

OH MY GOD DEKU IS IMMEDIATELY DITCHING HIM AGAIN

I ~CANNOT STAY HERE~ oh, well, sorry to keep you detained I know you’re busy

dfslkjlk oh my god

fucking told you Deku didn’t pack any food lol. it’s literally all notebooks in that bag you guys. he couldn’t just leave them all in his dorm room when he left, because what if someone tried to read them and came across one of the pages where he absentmindedly doodled Kacchan’s name surrounded by little tiny hearts oh gosh

AWWWWW

I needed this Horikoshi. thank you for this wholesome soul-cleansing interaction after all of that bullshit earlier

so now Deku’s climbing up this tall building to eat his lunchbox more dramatically. Tokoyami would be proud

and Banjou is saying that society right now is just like in The Good Old Days (read: bad old days) when quirk society was even more of a mess than it is now

which is exactly how AFO likes it, no doubt

so now Deku’s having a whole conversation with Banjou seemingly out loud lol, weird. and he’s basically saying that they don’t have any clues as to where TomurAFO and the League are hiding right now, and none of the Tartarus escapees they’ve found knew anything either

mmmmmfmhm, marge simpson noises

but you think you can?? you, alone, by yourself?? you think you stand a chance?? I just need you to think this all through a bit more kid

Deku it is NOT JUST YOUR RESPONSIBILITY ALONE, PLEASE REALIZE THIS ALREADY. YOU MAY BE THE CHOSEN ONE, BUT EVEN THE CHOSEN ONE NEEDS HIS FRIENDS BY HIS SIDE GODDAMMIT

and of course my pleading is all in vain, because he’s a fictional character who can’t fucking hear me, and also because I’m pretty sure there’s only one character who is going to actually be able to get him to hear reason here. I’ve been saying it, and I’ll keep saying it lol. so until then I guess I’ll just have to be patient

anyway so it appears we’re segueing into another flashback??? HORIKOSHI PLEASE GIVE ME SOME BAKUCRUMBS BEFORE THE TWO WEEK BREAK, I BEG YOU

dlKSDJLFKWJELKGHSLGKLEKJLFKHLGK

YES, THANK YOU, I KNOW WHERE THIS FUCKING IS LOL, IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH FINDING OUT WHAT HAPPENS IN THE REST OF THIS SCENE OR ANYTHING LMAO. BUT ANYWAYS DON’T MIND ME, YOU WERE SAYING??

oh my god oh my god I’m not readyyyyy, but also FUCK YEAH I AM SO FUCKING READY LOL LET’S DO THIS

YOU GUYS

I’M ABOUT TO STEP IN THAT ROOM AND YEET ONE OF THOSE FUCKING CHAIRS AT YOU ALL

NOOOOO

I’M ABOUT TO GRAB BANJOU’S GOGGLES AND STRETCH THEM OUT AND SNAP THEM BACK SO THEY SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF HIS FOREHEAD!!! IT’S WHAT HE DESERVES!!! I’M ABOUT TO MOVE TO JAPAN AND GET A JOB WITH DOORDASH AND FIND OUT WHAT HORIKOSHI LIKES TO ORDER FOR LUNCH SO I CAN BE THE ONE TO DELIVER IT SO THAT WHEN HE OPENS THE DOOR I CAN FINALLY ASK HIM “HEY WHAT THE FUCK” IN PERSON

AHHH NO EVERYBODY SHHHHH STOP TALKING!!!!

SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THAT PERSON SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS IN THE BACKGROUND TO SHUT THE FUCK UP, OH WAIT, THAT’S ME

(」゜ロ゜)」 щ(゜ロ゜щ)

LOL THIS FUCKING ASSHOLE!!! LOOK AT YOU!!! YOU’RE NOT KIRISHIMA OR SHINSOU OR IIDA IN A WIG OR ANYBODY LOL. YOU’RE JUST A DUDE. BROOOOO ABOUT FUCKING TIME, WHAT’S GOOD

I CAN’T SCROLL DOWN AHHHH BUT I HAVE TO BUT IT’S TOO INTENSE AHHHHHHH

I CAN SEE THE TOP OF HIS SPIKY HEAD, IT’S FINALLY THAT TIME AHHHHHHHH OKAY I’M GONNA DO IT HERE GOES

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IT’S HIM. IT FUCKING REALLY FUCKIGN IS HIM OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. WHY AM I SO SHOCKED LMAO I’M THE ONE WHO’S BEEN SAYING THIS THE WHOLE DAMN TIME LMAO. OH GOD. O H MY FUCKING GOD

well okay then sir. so are you an ~ancestor~ or a Kacchan from another timeline or so what’s your deal then

YOICHI WHO IS YOICHI

YOICHI ALWAYS KNOWS WHAT’S UP. LMAO WHO IS YOICHI

(ETA: I’m going to punch myself in the face lmao. he’s Yoichi. he, the First. that’s his name. name reveal at long last what what!!)

MORE IMPORTANTLY SHOULD I BE IMAGINING NOBU’S VOICE RIGHT NOW BECAUSE LMAO I AM ANYWAY BUT YEAH

(ETA: I actually think he’s going to end up being voiced by Nobuhiko whether he ends up being Kacchan or not, just because it fits right in with the general “identical in almost every way” aesthetic he’s got going on.)

TUMBLR HOW WE LIKING OUR ANGSTY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN?? EVERYONE HATED YOU SO MUCH BEFORE THEY EVEN MET YOU, BUT THEY FORGOT TO CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY THAT YOU MIGHT BE HOT LMAO WHAT A TWIST

“some bright-eyed brat” oh come on. IT’S GOTTA BE HIM LOL

oh my god you all are probably TIRED AS FUCK of all my screaming but I’M SORRY IMMA HAVE TO DO IT ONE LAST TIME BECAUSE...

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

that face. that expression!! THE FACT THAT HE’S OUT HERE OPENING DOORS WITH HIS FEET, LIKE HOLY SHIT!! JUST ADMIT THE JIG IS UP ALREADY

and so they really are the ones who busted First out of his jail cell huh

so how did they know you were in the room?? why did they come and break you out?? and how, pray tell, did they know to get you to transfer OFA to them?? hmmmMMMMMMMM

oh MY GOD

you guys. oh my god. it’s too much. every last bit of it lines up exactly with the Bakuverse theory sdkjfj I’m short-circuiting. it’s really fucking happening oh my lord

HELLO SEXY ALTERNATE UNIVERSE KACCHAN WITH HIS SEXY FUCKING SCAR, FUCK YEAH WE REALLY ARE EATING GOOD THIS CHAPTER

HELL YEAH WE’RE GOING. WE’RE GOING FULL SPEED YOU GUYS. LMAO I’M SO FUCKING HYPED RIGHT NOW I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF WEFKJLDKFFFF

SO, EVERYONE, LET’S RECAP. -- ACTUALLY NO, I STARTED TO WRITE UP A LIST, BUT I IMMEDIATELY REALIZED IT REALLY JUST NEEDS TO GO IN ITS OWN THREAD. SO I MADE IT AND POSTED IT, AND NOW I’M FINISHING UP THIS HOT MESS OF A RECAP POST. SO NOW WE’RE BACK TO THIS ONE FINAL PANEL OF DEKU EATING HIS KATSU ALL SERIOUS

YES SIR. YES SIR, WE GOING, FULL SPEED AHEAD, WHATEVER, IDK WTF IS HAPPENING BUT YES!!

lol, anyways so as I said in my other post, mysterious sexy guys with tragic pasts are what bring us together as a fandom, so whatever your thoughts are on the rest of it, let’s just rejoice in that. it’s what we deserve

[oddree13]

The Killing Moon

(Part 1) (Part 2) 

(Read on AO3)

The A/C is on full blast in the Munson apartment. After everything with the Upside-Down, the least the government could do was give Eddie and his uncle a new place to live, and right now, Eddie is taking full advantage of the included utilities to help him and Steve beat the heat.

“I don’t care if the arcade gets a new cabinet, I am never taking those kids there again in the summer,” Steve declares as he walks out of Eddie’s bathroom freshly showered. It barely took a few months of dating for Steve to start leaving things like spare clothes and toiletries at Eddie’s place, and right now Eddie is very grateful for that because Steve just walked into his room in a crop top and short-shorts. A part of him wonders if he did it on purpose or if he’s trying to beat the heat, but Eddie doesn’t care either way.

“How are you still in jeans?” Steve asks, flopping down next to Eddie on his bed, his stomach stretching taught in a way that leaves Eddie drooling.

“Because I’m committed to the aesthetic darling. Besides, not all of us can look like a Ken doll,” he mumbles.

“Well, you need to change because just looking at you is making me sweat again.”

Eddie leans over to look at Steve with a teasing smirk. Are you trying to get me out of my clothes Stevie? If you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” he teases, but all it earns him is a disbelieving scoff from his boyfriend. “What’s that sound supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Steve mutters trying to sit up, so Eddie presses his shoulder so he stays down on the bed.

“That didn’t sound like nothing Harrington.” The use of his last name has Steve struggling to get up again, but Eddie just pushes him down once more. “Hey, hey, cmon. Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. Cause something is obviously bothering you.”

“You don’t touch me.”

“What are you talking about? I’m touching you right now.”

“And that is where it ends Eddie! It’s been what, two months, and we haven’t done more than make out and grind on each other! It’s like I went back on birth control for nothing!”

“You went back onto birth control?” Eddie parrots back, and Steve levels him with a look that says ‘really that’s what you got from that.’ Eddie rubs his face and sits back to give Steve space. It’s not like his boyfriend is wrong, Eddie has been keeping his distance. A part of him doesn’t want to let things go too far in case Steve snaps out of it one day and decides he’s done with his rebellious phase and goes running back to his mother and father. Because the day Steve does that Eddie’s heart is going to break.

Eddie must be looking miles away because Steve is looking at him with concern.

“You know if you don’t want to do this anymore, you could just tell me. I get it if dating me isn’t everything you thought it would be. I’m used to that..."

And that just break Eddie’s heart. He’ll never forgive the Harrington’s for breaking their son like this, making him constantly second guess his worth. Eddie hates that he’s been unknowingly contributing to that. That he would do something that would make him like Steve’s parents.

Shaking his head, Eddie turns himself to look back at Steve, lacing their fingers. “Dating you is everything I thought it would be and more. Like a part of me legitimately hates that all those rumors in school about the Harrington Charm are true. Like freakishly true. So no baby, this isn’t about you. This time it’s because your boyfriend doesn’t know what to do about falling for Steve Harrington.”

“You're falling for me?” Steve questions and now it’s Eddie’s turn to look at his boyfriend with a raised brow.

“Yeah, I’m falling for you big boy, what of it?”

Steve’s laugh lets Eddie know they’re moving past the awkwardness that has been plaguing them for the past few minutes. “Who knew you’d be such a sap of an alpha, Eddie.”

"Does that bother you?” Eddie challenges, leaning into Steve’s space now. “You didn’t strike me as the type who’d want to be around a big bad wolf Stevie.”

“What’s wrong with a little bit of both?” Steve counters and Eddie knows his boyfriend must be thinking of something when he bites his lower lip. Eddie takes advantage of his boyfriend’s distraction to pin him back onto the bed in a heated kiss, loving how Steve opens his mouth immediately to let Eddie in. They’ve made out hundreds of times in the two months they’ve been together, but something about Steve’s early frustration feels as if Eddie has more than a green light to push forward.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie pants, pulling back to catch his breath a little. Steve nods, opting to nip at Eddie’s neck instead of answering. “Why’d you get back on birth control? Not exactly complaining, but condoms exist.”

Steve’s silence speaks volumes, and Eddie wonders how far he can tease the other man. “C'mon baby, tell me why? Didn’t think I was pressuring you to do that, especially when we have other options.”

“W-what other options?” Steve shakily asks.

“Condoms like I said, but I’m good without penetrative sex. The good lords gave us mouths and fingers after all, and you know I’m at least good with my hands.” Steve buries his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck in an ill attempt at composure, and Eddie knows he’s close to confessing. “So come on, tell me. Why the need for pills? Enlighten me, sir.”

Eddie doesn’t have to look down to know Steve’s face is red, he can feel his burning face on his shoulder. “If you don’t tell me I’m going to start guessing, though I do think my first theory may be the right one.” Steve’s silence is enough permission for Eddie to continue, and he moves down enough that his breath ghosts the shell of Steve’s ear when he talks.

“I think you went back on birth control because you want to imagine getting pupped in bed. Six kids if I recall correctly,” he rumbles, enjoying the hitch of Steve’s breath. “Feel what it would be like for an alpha to breed you. Is that it?"

“ Eddie , you can’t just say that,” Steve whines and Eddie loves how Stee isn’t even attempting to deny it. He called it a year ago - Steve Harrington has a socially acceptable breeding kink a mile wide and Eddie is happy to indulge him.

"So if I can’t say it does that mean you'd want a practical demonstration then?" he smirks, pulling back just enough to take in the sweet blush running up Steve's neck. "And you can tell me to stop teasing you, baby. I'm here to please you after all.”

The room is quiet until Steve finally meets Eddie’s eyes. “No, no. I like it. You can keep going.”

“Yeah?” he hums, feeling far too pleased with himself. “In that case sleeping is going to be so easy this week with sheets that smell like you.”

Steve lets out a soft breathless laugh at that. “Imagine how well you’ll sleep with me in your bed.”

“There’s that Harrington charm. Is that your way of telling me you'll be spending the night? For the record, I'm not objecting. In fact, I'm very for it," he purrs, nipping Steve's neck to make the omega flush again.

“That was sort of my plan when I put on an outfit this revealing. And your uncle definitely isn’t coming home tonight?”

“Nope, not until morning. As long as we aren't making noise by then we're in the clear. Can’t say what he’ll think about the smell though,” he mumbles as he noses at Steve’s neck, breathing in the omega’s scent before rolling off the bed.

“Where are you going?”

Eddie leans his arm and chin on the edge of the bed and looks up at Steve from where he’s kneeling on the floor. “I’m going to blame the hormones princess, because what possible reason could I have for getting on my knees.”

"I mean I can think of two reasons."

"But one is way better than the other. And right now the better option is eating you out until I can taste the difference in your slick before and after you come on my tongue." Eddie hears Steve curse again and slides down the omegas shorts.

"No underwear? You really were planning for a night over with this getup.”

Eddie kisses the inside of Steve’s thigh, purposefully ignoring his cock to dip lower, following the delicious scent he’s been dying to taste. He’s about to lick a stripe up Steve’s entrance when the omega pulls back a bit causing Eddie to mimic the movement.

“Are you actually going to eat me out?”

Eddie looks up from between Steve’s thighs trying to not give his boyfriend a ‘no duh’ sort of look because alpha or not, Eddie isn’t into coercive sex. It’s much better when someone gives into his charms willingly.

"Do you not want me to,” he asks while kissing the inside of Steve’s knee, trying to not dip forward again. ”Because I was very serious about that."

Steve bites his lip in thought. “I’m just usually the one doing the eating out.” He looks away from Eddie as he confesses he’s never been on the receiving end and that’s when Eddie knows he’s going to spend the better part of the night ruining Steve for any future alpha that tries to replace him.

"Oh, baby I'm going to treat you so well. And if you're good I'll do it more than once." Steve finally looks down to meet Eddie’s eyes, and he’s not sure if his omega can read his mind or just gets his intention from scent, but Eddie suddenly feels a dribble of slick land on his leg and knows Steve is just as eager as he is.

“God, what did I do to deserve this…” he groans as Eddie kisses down his leg back to his original position.

"I can tell you all the ways you deserve this but I'd rather save it for the pillow talk." Eddie leans forward and licks a stripe over Steve's rim, while one of his hands keeps his legs spread. He experiments with different strokes and pressure - short, long, hard, soft, fast, slow - cataloging Steve’s reaction as he goes. It’s still not enough for Eddie who is willing to eat and forgo oxygen to drown in the sweet taste that’s pouring from his omega. So he does the next logical thing and pulls Steve down the edge of the bed further so his boyfriend’s legs rest on his shoulders.

That should get him deep enough.

With both his hands free Eddie pulls Steve’s muscular cheeks apart and lets himself follow the source of Steve’s slick, knowing that whatever jaw ache he’ll have in the morning would be worth it.

"Eddie, fuck, please, I need it."

Steve’s begging combined with the way his swimmer's legs are closing in around Eddie’s ears tells him that the omega is close. Taking pity, Eddie moves a hand up to give friction to Steve’s weeping cock and soon enough Eddie’s theory is proven right. Steve does taste sweeter when he comes.

Eddie’s straining, even in the loose pajama bottoms and is about to relieve himself when Steve is tugging at his collar to pull him up.

"Come 'ere,” he whines when he realizes he’s too worn out to actually pull Eddie to him, so the alpha obliges him.

“Let me taste it. Want to taste myself on you,” Steve begs, and Eddie groans a little bit at the request, more than happy to give in. The kiss starts out slow but soon Eddie is relaxing into the sheets as Steve explores the taste of his own climax on Eddie's tongue.

"You definitely taste sweeter when you come,” Eddie rasps when Steve finally pulls back.

“Yeah? Imagine what it’ll taste like during heat,” Steve purrs, which just makes Eddie rumble back at the mere thought of Steve in heat.

"You want to go through heat with me baby? I'd take such good care of you."

“Obviously Eds. I mean I’d have to get off suppressants, and I can’t even remember when my last one was, but I’d like that. For us.”

All his doubts from earlier have well and truly been quashed by Steve’s plans to move them forward. Eddie wants to revel in the sentiment of the moment, but when Steve turns closer to him his thigh brushes he’s painfully reminded that he’s basically been on the verge of popping a knot moments ago.

“I can feel how hard you are,” Steve chuckles into Eddie’s ear.

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious Stevie. Can you blame me? I just ate you out and we’re talking about heat.”

Steve takes that as permission enough and starts to tug down Eddie’s pants, clearly tired of being the only one half dressed. Eddie takes pity on him and takes off his own pants before removing the rest of their clothes. The moment he lays back down Steve’s hand is on his cock, and if Eddie hadn’t been between his knees he’d have thought Steve was the one on edge, not him.

“Is that better? Didn’t know you were that eager to see what you’re working with.” It’s supposed to just tease Steve, but then the omegas eyes wander down Eddie’s body to look at what exactly he’s gripping.

“Wow.”

Eddie has to turn away at that. "Careful princess, saying things like that can give a guy an ego. Hopefully, it's to your satisfaction."

“It is.” Eddie isn’t looking because he’s sure if he sees Steve staring at his cock he’ll be embarrassingly quick. His predicament is further complicated when Steve straddles Eddie’s thigh asking if the alpha wants a blowjob.

“Nah, I think I'd like your hand again. This way I can keep feeling you leak onto my thigh. Maybe I'll make you clean that up after I come.” The faux order is Eddie’s way of testing the waters, to see if his boyfriend would be up for more than dirty talk. He finally looks over and sees Steve flush a dark shade of red. Perfect.

Eddie lets Steve pin his hip down for balance, while his other hand strokes the alpha. He might be under Steve Harrington, but Eddie is still in charge. “Just like that,” he praises, watching Steve jerk him off while rubbing himself on Eddie’s leg. “Love feeling your slick on me, baby - lets me know you’re having a good time."

Steve’s response to praise is an addiction Eddie could get used to, especially when the omega is more than a little responsive. “You know you never really confirmed my theory earlier baby. Why’d you go back on birth control?” It’s clear from Steve’s face he thought he’d dodged that confirmation, but now in the haze of lust Eddie’s going to get an answer.

“Because I want your knot,” he whines, as Eddie presses his leg up further to help Steve get more friction.

“And why do you want my knot?” Eddie knows he’s pushing it but he’s craving watching Steve give into his desires more than he wants to come.

“Claimed. I want to be claimed. I want to smell like you and have you mark me up, Eddie. Please.” Steve’s whimpering is music to Eddie’s ears.

“You can smell like me right now. Come on. Scoot up and jerk your pretty prick alongside mine.” The high Eddie feels when Steve immediately obeys him is like nothing else, and once the omega is getting double the friction it doesn’t take him long to spill over. A fresh wave of slick hits Eddie’s thigh as Steve comes again and that’s enough to send Eddie tumbling after him.

Eddie leans up to keep Steve steady, the other man listing with a glazed look in his eyes. The alpha rolls him to the side and helps him lay down, stretching his legs for him. The way both of them are more than covered in a bit of body fluids makes Eddie eager for heat, but beyond sliding a finger through their combined mess to taste them, Eddie shifts into aftercare mode. He rolls off the bed on his own jelly legs and is about to step away when a hand grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Where are you going?” Steve’s eyes look worried and Eddie wonders how many people have left Steve’s bedside not bothering to come back.

“Just getting a towel to clean us up and some water. I’ll be right back Steve. I promise.” The squeeze on his wrist, followed by Steve dropping his arm tells him that his boyfriend trusts Eddie to not be lying.

In the kitchen Eddie stands over the sink, filing two glasses of water, and realizes he’s a fucking idiot. How he had started the night thinking Steve was anything but serious about is something the current Eddie, only a few hours older, can’t fathom. And that should make telling Steve he loves him come morning a whole lot easier.

[batarangsoundsdumb]

guess fucking what? my inbox is so fucking full right now i'm unloading all of this shit in one post.

For the 11th gotham memes: gothamites react to bruce being jacked in a tiktok he made with kids, like super yoked, ripped as hell

fucking hilarious thanks. i think i did it in one meme post, but i genuinely don't remember which one

i dunno which of the batfam would do this but one time i was sleeping over at a friends house and ended up on the floor bc the bed was so very small and i just stayed there because the rug was soft

that's a drunk jason move i don't know what to tell you

tim and jason are "i listen to pop punk" solidarity. whenever jason highjacks the batmobile theyll go on long ass car rides blaring mcr and paramore and then never talk about it again

as they should!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! tim: no jason it's my turn using the aux cord i gotta put on my jams jason: don't you dare put on weird shit tim: don't worry, you're gonna love this *plays fearless (taylor's version)

hear me out hear me out, red hood stans 🤝 nightwing stans t h i g h s

holy shit yes.

SNL au: Bruce breaks character when pretending to superman and says something like "I'm not superman! You've seen his gps!! It's from 2001!!!" @sabeanybabe

superman flies past the snl building the next day just to say 'actually it's from 2005, i'm not a heathen'

does your back hurt from carrying the batfam fandom

it hurts more from the exotic rock collection i keep in my backpack, but thanks for the concern.

I love your posts by why would you always leave the best parts in the tags?

as a treat for the people that check the tags ;) (and also because i'm committed to the short post aesthetic)

somehow your playlist was everything i never knew i needed. i mean it. this is my new favorite playlist.

and don't you dare get a new favourite playlist!

babe ur stoner tim playlist is exactly too perfect, earth is literally blessed by ur existence

babe thanks so much! i love my stoner tim playlist because it's just my usual playlist but people think it's an artistic choice that i put taylor swift and britney spears in there, when it's just what i unironically like listening to

JANDKSKDK BILLY RAY CYRUS ON THE STONER TIM PLAYLIST I LOVE IT IT

again it's not even an ironic choice, i know every single word and i genuinely like the song

The last chapter of Fundamentals of Casework has me crying at work. Thanks I love it @dudelookitsalesbian

oh babe, i'm sorry, but also, not sorry i love chapter 4 so much it's my lovechild with the 'mental illness' tag

soooo....stumbled on your tumblr by some stroke of fate??? read your DC fanfic first. which is PHENOMENAL btw. then found all the batmemes; the funniest thing EVER bc everyone forgets about regular old gothamites. kept scrolling and your blog pops up as recommended. clicked on the ao3 for shits and giggles and waddaya know?!?!? it's YOU!!! you're LEGEND!!!! ever seen that meme? it's a video of a cat that got into a baseball field and the two announcers get really invested in his escape attempt and start giving a play by play of the cat instead of the game. memeable moment: "GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!"

i seriously think about this ask every single day and it's so fucking funny to me that i've never seen the meme you're referencing, but i still find myself going 'GREAT stuff from the Cat!!!' whenever i see something funny. but wow i'm glad you liked this steaming pile of garbage

Fav dc character overall? And fav batfamily character?

don't ask me to pick between the loves of my life, but i can tell you i've cried about every single batfamily member and also wally west (my beloved)

What's your opinion on fans having a problem with batfam being "too big"? And some even claim that batfam is just "Bruce Alfred Dick Damian" and the rest of them are just "friends and allies" (source: reddit) Personally, I like batfam because of this reason but idk

stupid. a family can never be too big. i'm not that big a fan of like huge batfam stuff with everybody from every single universe, because as much as it's funny for bruce to have like 30 kids, it just feels a little too OOC for me.

This is the best tag I've seen involving the batfam, thanks for thinking of it

This is canon now @nctxrejects

lmao yeah i think at that point alfred has had to sit through like at least a dozen coming out talks and just has a pride flag collection in the attic that he pulls out whenever a kid comes out

idk why batfam hits different as compared to any other superhero family

bc it's found family and usually the other superhero families are almost all genetically related in one way or another

I don't know if you watch the umbrella academy but I saw your last post about batcest and saw the similarities. But the thing is (although I think it's weird) in TUA, they addressed it by saying "they were raised as weapons, not siblings" or something along those lines, which is simply not the case with batfam.

yeah i watched tua but i also thought it was ridiculous and they still treated each other as siblings so i didn't like the luthor/allison thing, and am glad they stopped doing that shit bc it fucking sucked.

Hot take: Batcest shippers are the same people who believe adopted siblings are not actual siblings

smoking hot take: batcest shippers are the people who watch 'my sister got stuck in the washing machine' porn

Duke was adopted by Bruce?

not technically no, but do i, tumblr user batarangsoundsdumb, look like i care?

True story but I had to change my freaking name because it used to be "Damien" and most people would go "OH LIKE DAMIAN WAYNE" like please I'm just tryna live

true story, but i don't actually think of damian when i hear the name damian, literally the first thing that pops up is damian darkh like bruh what?

apparently dc comics company supported comic stores by giving out new titles and stuff during the beginning of the pandemic to help them run and I just think that's wholesome

ah yeah that's so fucking cool, still don't like dc, the company, because this world is a capitalist hellhole and we're all owned by warner brothers or disney with no in between.

ayo looking at tumblr head canons and finding out bruce is actually a terrible father is a punch in the gut

lmao yes, in like 50% of comics bruce is a terrible father and it gives me whiplash

oooh I just saw the jason todd vs winter soldier post and the real question is: batman vs iron man

while iron man has like hundreds of cases of armor, batman could throw out an emp and have the guy dropping out of the sky in 2 seconds.

dickfast = fastdick = quickdick = quickie

magnum hot take

hey bata(?) just thought I'd let you know I have copied the obnoxious emoji and Billy Ray post for use on simping men going forth

thank you 😘🌷 (@spacebarsidecar)

why would you do that to your followers???? i get why i did it, but why would you???

what is scarecrow made the nightwing funko pop himself, like those diy-ers that paint over other ones

oh god no, horrible take, horrible take, that's a disgusting thought oh no

I see your HC that Bruce and Oliver fucked and raise you this: Dick and Roy ALSO fucked

yes they did and it was a horrible moment for jason to find out dick has fucked both of his best friends

"at this rate bruce adds like 1 child to his family every decade or so" Duke is introduced in 2013, Damian as Damian, not as an unnamed child, in 2006. And he is already 14 years old, Robins rarely remain Robins after 16 😬 It looks like a new Robin and Batkid will appear in a couple of years

i mean i can't wait? but somebody will probably die first tho, we're due for another major character death. my money's on either cass or duke this time.

BRO you're so right all of your Bruce's ex headcanons are amazing but they aren't ships, that's kinda wild. Like I don't want any peeks into how their relationship was I just want to see everyone make fun of them

lmao YES it's just i love bruce being a slut, like good for him.

I am in love with your posts your honour thank you

omg thanks are we like,, gonna kiss now?

The justice league needs to have a meeting to discuss how many of their members/partners have slept with bruce. Because through a combination of cannon & fannon (if DC wasn’t homophobic) we have AT LEAST: 1) clark 2) lois 3) oliver 4) dinah 5) john

Thats not counting villains or random civilians @dudelookitsalesbian

yes yes yes, they'll have a yearly meeting about how many of their collective exes could be out for revenge and batman's list just keeps getting longer.

tim was like "i'm drake now" and everyone was like ahh so your fursona is a dragon and tim was like pffffft no. ducks.

and what about it?

when steph's fighting livewire and she zaps her with lighting and nothing happens and then they both just. stand there awkwardly for a second and talk. yeah i couldn't stop laughing at that batgirl steph is the BEST

oh yeah that was fucking hilarious and i think it would be so cool and sexy of dc to give steph a little comic series,,, as a treat

Hi I absolutely adore all of yours "Bruce and Oliver very badly pretending they didn't fuck each other" memes

lmao i do too

I need you to know that “Bruce Wayne had frosted tips” is one of my favorite Bruce takes of all time it’s so galaxy brained. you’re right and you should say it

he also painted his hair blonde once when he was travelling and in conclusion, this is why he's being blackmailed by the gotham gazette.

you know my thing about gordon being branded as the only good cop in gotham is its a load of shit like arguably he's a good person and not working to screw people over or anything but the fact that he also works w. batman makes him a shit cop. like yea batman is better than the mob but its still illegal its still an abuse of power he just not making bank

babe, all cops are bad cops. (but yeah youre absolutely right, working with vigilantes makes you a shit cop, but also working against vigilantes just makes you an asshole cop yanno?)

ruh roh i think i’m about to add “so not yeehaw” every time i don’t like something

that's a very good vocabulary upgrade

somehow i feel like steph already knew. like babs obviously knew but i feel like bruce got high/drunk in front of steph and started telling his boarding school stories and steph was just like “oh you fucked up i’m never gonna forget this”

steph and bruce have weird uncle/rebellious niece dynamic and they just hang out sometimes and bruce will be like 'i once broke my arm when i tripped over a hedge when i was drunk so oliver drove me to the hospital on an electric scooter' and steph will just have to sit there with that knowledge in her head.

Hello I just wanted to tell you you are So right in all your steph opinions bc she is, in fact amazing and I think that's very sexy of you. Ps. Your Bruce/Oliver fic is hilarious

babe, thank you so much and yes steph is amazing and i love her and she deserves the world and she's the best member of the batfam hands down. also thanks

In Supersons we see a couple of kids that are implied to be Damian and Jon's children and the boy has laser eyes and can fly, so I asume he's not adopted. The girl, who calls Bruce grandpa, can also fly, btw. So it's canon (probably by accident) that Jon can have kids and he must have married one of Bruce's kids. (I'm hoping for Damian, mostly because any other of his children would be waaaaaaaaaaaaay too old.) @artemisa97

lmao that was probably an accident seeing as jon is a 17 year old superhero in the year 3000 (by the jonas brothers)

You know, I'm a die hard fan of your memes, but I gotta say one thing: if Gothamites actually took gas mask everywhere with them, then the Scarecrow would just be a weird dude in a weird costume, and not a villain oh so scary. DC really should just takes notes from you.

bold of you to assume there's no gothamite anti-maskers

How does it feel being the funniest person on this app?

horrible, next question.

I can't listen to Green Day or Billy Joel without thinking of your post about how Bruce got arrested at a Billy Joel concert @nightwings-kid

yeah that's your mistake, i on the other hand can't enjoy billy joel without thinking about the glee rendition of 'uptown girl'

I've FINALLY been watching the Batman animated series and I gotta say, after watching "the gray ghost" I am CONVINCED that Batman is a closeted super hero geek who was 100% freaking out the first time he met Superman and is just REALLY good at hiding it.

superman: so what do you do in your free time? batman, thinking about the superman fanfiction he's writing on the batcomputer: i have no free time

bruce and oliver be like boyfriends to co-workers 401k (do the justice leagues get 401ks??? not that bruce and ollie would need them, but-)

lmao yes just 400 thousand words of bruce realising 'oh dip oliver is such a fucking dumbass' (also i don't know what a 401 k is but i assume they don't?)

Gothamites would totally boo superman as he saves Gotham while batman is out. @meenje

he's like 'okay think about that next time you want to be saved from an alien octopus'

I just took long break from dc comics and I come back to see ric grayson ??

i think it's very cool and sexy of dc to see dick and just think 'you know what? let's just give him a traumatic brain injury' and then didn't develop his character in any real way

SPEAKING OF RIC GRAYSON, gothamites making confused memes out of ric grayson is much needed

'dick grayson is my taxi driver? can anyone explain what the fuck happened he looks like an italian plumber?'

i hate to say it but batfam are def "marvel characters" in that sense they are characters who are human but become superheroes unlike most dc characters who are gods trying to be human maybe this is why I like batfam

fair enough

[ellewriteswrongs]

layers of love - prinxiety

1.8k words

ao3 / ko-fi / previous work

summary: self-indulgent fluffy prinxiety, very domestic, some shrek references, y'all know the drill

cw: mild swearing, slight innuendo/suggestive dialogue

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Virgil asked from where he laid against his boyfriend’s chest. Roman’s hand stilled as he played with Virgil’s hair.

“Hmm?” He hummed, continuing to rock them with one leg hanging out of their shared hammock. “‘Course you can.”

Virgil made something akin to a purr as he laid in the sun, his hoodie discarded for once.

“When you first said you loved me…was it scary?”

Roman’s brow furrowed at the question, leaning back to try and see the other man’s face.

“Scary? I…I guess I don’t know. I think, in the moment, it just felt right,” he spoke with a soft smile, pausing only to plant a kiss on the other man’s forehead. “But ever since I realized it…every time I thought about saying it, I was terrified.”

When Virgil only shifted, tightening his grip around Roman’s waist, the latter continued.

“I was so worried you’d be freaked out and think I was moving too fast and the last thing I ever wanted was to scare you off, but I…” he trailed off, letting out an amused chuckle. “I was only ever afraid of losing you. Loving you has never scared me.”

Virgil hummed, leaning up to steal a lazy kiss from the corner of Roman’s lips.

“But what about all those stupid stories you like?” He smirked, folding his arms over Roman’s chest as he rested his chin on them. “Quite a bit of pressure there, Princey.”

Roman chuckled, twirling a particular strand of hair around his finger.

“Ahh yes, those stupid fairytales that you make me read to you all the time,” he teased, earning a playful slap on his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, I have more than enough understanding of when dramatic proclamations of my undying love are unwanted.”

Virgil just exhaled a short chuckle, reaching to pull Roman’s hand out of his hair and over to hold it against his cheek, first pressing a kiss into the palm.

“Isn’t that why it’s such a big deal though?” He mused, his eyes half-focused on the beach around them. “Like, isn’t the whole point of falling in love so that something changes once you say it? And…and nothing changed when we said it.”

Roman stiffed a little bit from under him. “Did you…want something to change?”

No. No, of course he didn’t. That was the best part about it.

He told Roman as such.

“I guess I just…always thought something would change, even if we didn’t really want it to,” he explained, closing his eyes as Roman started playing with his hair again. “But I like how we are. How we’ve always been.”

“How we’ve always been? I don’t know about you, stormcloud, but I think things have definitely changed for the better.”

Virgil huffed with a small smile.

“Alright, fine,” he said, his cheeks hot. “I’m glad we changed even if it was just a little.”

Roman chuckled, his chest vibrating comfortingly against Virgil’s head.

“Yeah, I think I like you a little bit more these days, sunshine.”

Virgil scoffed, jabbing Roman’s side with his elbow.

“Thanks, babe," he spoke teasingly. “What glowing praise."

Roman only wrapped both arms around him and squeezed tight, one hand cradling the back of his head and the other holding him by the waist.

"My darling dark and stormy knight,” Roman cooed dramatically, peppering kisses all over his face until the other started laughing. "The angel from my nightmares, oh how I adore you with everything I am."

Virgil smiled, his gaze soft and fond as he looked up at the man he loved.

"Mhm, that's more like it," he smirked, stealing a kiss. "I love you, dork."

Roman bent down to lean their foreheads together.

“What's with all the introspection, my love?"

"Good word, babe."

“Shut up, I'm just worried about you," Roman grumbled, tucking Virgil's head back under his chin.

"You're worried about me? Because I’m talking about being in love with you?" Virgil asked, taking one of Roman's hands to fiddle with his fingers.

"Well, you just don't...talk about it. We both don’t,” Roman explained, his voice vibrating through his chest. "And I'm glad we are, it's just...not what we do."

Virgil smiled, sighing contentedly.

"Nothing's wrong, I promise,” he assured him. "I guess I've just been thinking a lot lately."

"Oh wow, congrats," Roman teased with sarcastic claps.

“Shut up, oh my god,” Virgil complained, not even trying to hide his laughter. "I'm trying to be serious here."

"Alright, alright, I concede," Roman smiled, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"I just kind of realized that I've been feeling different lately,” he started, causing Roman to immediately stiffen and lean back to see Virgil's face. Virgil smirked, rolling his eyes fondly. “I just told you nothing's wrong, chill babe."

"You telling me to chill out is quite ironic, methinks," Roman teased, relaxing back into the hammock. “It's not my fault you're rubbing off on me, Frank Fear-o.”

Virgil snorted a laugh at the nickname before he continued.

"Ever since we said it, I've just felt... better," he spoke, a soft smile on his face. "I don't even know how to explain it, it's just...better. I get headaches less, when I get anxious, it turns into panic attacks like half as much."

He paused as Roman's lips met his temple.

"And I think the strangest thing is," he spoke, propping himself up on his forearm to look down at his boyfriend

below him. “When you told me you loved me, I didn't doubt it for a second."

Roman gave a short, watery chuckle; his eyes tearing up just a little.

"Even just a year ago, I wouldn't've believed anybody who said that to me but you," he paused, reaching to squish Roman's cheeks with one hand until they both laughed. "I knew you'd never lie to me, but more than anything, I felt it."

He leaned in, intending to only steal a quick kiss before it swiftly escalated.

“Who knew you were such a sap?" Roman teased, breathing heavily as they eventually broke apart.

“Says you, Romeo."

“Oh, I wear that badge with pride, darling," he beamed. "According to Thomas' Twitter, I'm his 'simp' side."

Virgil snorted, laying back down as he leaned into Roman's shoulder.

"Okay, they're definitely right about that one,” he mumbled, ruffling the other’s curly hair affectionately. “I’ve got you wrapped around my finger and you can’t even deny it.”

Roman grabbed one of said fingers and brought it to his lips, planting a dramatic, drawn-out kiss with the most exaggerated noise he could.

“But of course!” He bellowed, earning a fond eye roll from his boyfriend. “For it is my only duty to bestow upon you all of the love one can possibly muster.”

Virgil quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve got a few other duties, babe,” he challenged with a smirk. “Like maybe the concept pitch for the next scripted video that you haven’t done, or the notes for the editors, or the fact that Thomas hasn’t even picked up his ukulele since last year, or—“

“Okay! Okay, fine, I can’t devote my whole life to smothering you forever,” he agreed exasperatedly. “But if I could, I would.”

Virgil chuckled, folding his arms over Roman’s chest and resting his chin on top.

“Hmm, yeah I think I’d hate that.”

Roman gave an almost comical pout, pulling out the puppy dog eyes.

“Nope, absolutely not, you’re not getting me with that shit,” Virgil asserted, trying to maintain a firm tone as he came dangerously close to breaking into a smile. “Smother me twenty-four seven and I’ll dump you on the spot.”

Roman pulled a disbelieving face.

“You really think I’m buying that?” He smirked. “That you’d dump me for spoiling you absolutely rotten with my sweetness.”

He knew full well what he was doing.

“I need my space, princess,” he spoke, putting on a suave tone that he knew he wasn’t pulling off by the giggles that came from his boyfriend. “I gotta’ keep up the aesthetic.”

Roman brought Virgil’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Alright, alright, I respect the commitment,” he spoke, punctuated by kisses from Virgil’s hand up to his shoulder. “It’s so tragic that Mr. Misery Business would rather brood than swoon.”

“Who says I can’t have both?” He grinned. “I’m multi-faceted these days, babe. I have layers.”

Roman snorted a laugh, ducking his head right by Virgil’s ear.

“Layers,” he spoke with a heavy Scottish accent, his hands squeezing Virgil’s sides. “Onions have layers. Ogres have layers. We both have layers.”

“Oh my god,” Virgil cackled with laughter. “I hate it. I hate you, never speak to me again.”

Roman smirked, unfazed.

“But Virgil, that’s what friends do, they forgive each other.”

“One more word and you’re not getting any kisses for the rest of the week.”

“It’s already Friday.”

“Well, I don’t exactly want to punish myself in the process.”

Roman flushed a little at the rare admittance of affection.

“You think you couldn’t go a full week without any kisses?”

“I mean,” Virgil spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want to find out.”

He answered with a chaste kiss to the other man’s temple. “I guess the world may never know.”

“If Logan were here right now, he’d probably try to get us to find out.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I never listen to the ol’ poindexter anyways,” Roman grinned, quirking an eyebrow.

“Ahh, yes, my favorite thing about you,” Virgil teased with a sly smirk. “How you’d rather be eternally petty than have an ounce of rational thought in that pretty little head of yours.”

Roman gave an offended scoff.

“You know what, I’m just going to ignore everything you just said in favor of the fact that you called me pretty,” he defended with a humph.

“Oh, you like that?” Virgil continued teasing. “As if you don’t already know you're pretty.”

Roman feigned his innocence.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea, darling. Perhaps you’ll have to enlighten me on what you find so appealing,” he drawled, his voice syrupy sweet in a way that would’ve made Virgil weak in the knees if they weren’t currently lying on top of each other. “My cute button nose? Thick, wavy locks? Maybe my taut, round buttocks?”

Virgil barked out a laugh, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation.

“Pull another Shrek quote out of that ass and I’ll see to it that you won’t be able to sit for a week—a full week.”

Roman froze, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Is…is that a threat or a promise?”

Virgil just groaned, shoving him until the hammock teetered and he panicked, clinging back onto the other man. “You’ve been spending too much time with your brother.”

“You may be right, but this is certainly more fun, I must admit,” he sighed happily.

“Just shut up and take a nap, princess.”

“As you wish, my love.”

[gojology]

Ringpops.

back to homepage pairing : gojo x gender neutral reader warnings : cursing, fluff. wordcount : 1688 a/n : i am so sorry for posting this late LOL, i’ve had a splitting headache all day and on top of that i had to make a buncha visually appealing aesthetic stuff for this so my poor brain is fried. welcome all new followers :) also this was rushed as usual... haha ████████████████  100% Complete. Enjoy your game.

    Valentines Day with Gojo was usually chaotic, but you didn’t blame him, it was apart of his personality after all.      He didn’t take you to any particular establishment, really. You were curled up in your bed, exhausted from a long day of baking goods, watching sappy love movies, and overall shenanigans. You didn’t particularly mind this though, a soft lazy breeze preventing you from overheating, you sigh in relief. It’s like the weather knew exactly what you needed for a relaxing evening.      Although, today seemed rather unusual. For the many years that you’ve dated Satoru, he never, ever dressed up. Usually he rolled out of bed, naked. A pair of grey sweatpants replaced what was usually his uniform pants. Just enough for you to see the start of his happy trail, in other words, a fruitful attempt of teasing you.      He knew that he was attractive, and you didn’t mind fueling his ego. A toned body, almost like he had been specially picked by some divine being and gifted with society’s standards. But he had actually picked out an outfit for this particular Valentines Day, which you admitted was nice, but you also didn’t mind licking your lips at such a delicious physique.       On the rare occasions that he picked out outfits, it wouldn’t be visually appealing, the guy only wore his work uniform or a casual t-shirt and a pair of shorts, or sweatpants.     Yet, today? Weirdly different.       Clad in a dark blue cashmere crewneck sweater paired with black jeans, he nervously picked at the clothing, fidgeting. You guessed he had gotten some fashion advice from one of his friends, as you also realized it was... Somewhat trendy. Chains dangling from his neck, a few from his pants as well, a designer belt... You had wondered who it was that was so gracious enough to make him hotter then he already was.     The air of his usual carefree personality was gone, which was one of your favorite parts about him, and he had insisted this morning to take you to an actual diner, which you rejected.       As soon as you turned your back to grab some more sugar, he pulled you back, hand on your shoulder. A determined look on his face that you could see even through his circular shades, clearing his throat.      “Hey- just to be sure, pumpkin... You’re not denying because you think I’m poor or some shit like that, right? I’m financially stable as all hell, and I’ll buy you anything you set your eyes on, seriously. I need to spoil you sometimes, okay?”      He spoke with a tone of nervousness, and you cocked your head to look at him, eyebrow slightly raised.      “What’s with you today, babe? You never do this sorta shit.”       Seemingly taken aback, he looked at you for a few seconds, unblinking. Wondering if it went one ear out the other, you’re about to repeat yourself before he shoves a hand on your mouth.       “I just wanna try something new, that’s all. Carry on, sweets. Need more M&M’s? I can drive to the store and get them..” kissing your exposed neck a few times, suckling at the flesh, he snickered as you gasped, and that was the end of that. ‧₊˚✩彡.     The thought never completely disappeared from your mind, instead it ran rampant. You were curious, after all. Why would perhaps the chillest and funniest guy you knew, be so scared and nerve-wrecked?      “Hey, hey~!” you hear a familiar voice ring out, and you pick up your head from his pillow that you were laying on, adjusting your eyes so you could drink in his beauty fully. He wasn’t completely in the room, his head was poking out of the door just barely.     “Finally, what were you doing? Took you a few years to come home.” casually getting up from your previous position, you hug your pillow, patiently waiting for his next sentence.      “Ah... Uh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” he shuffled closer into the room, but he never quite came into view, the atmosphere of awkwardness was growing.      Rolling your eyes, you giggle, desperate to have the mood be carefree yet again. “You suck at hiding shit, come on, lemme see, what’d you get me?”       “It was supposed to be a surprise!” he said, exasperated, but he does it anyways.       A beautiful scent of roses wafted throughout the room, a trail of spare rose petals danced down as he strode over to the bed, a playful grin on his lips. You cover your mouth with your hands, squealing.      “Satoru! These are so pretty!” you ecstatically grab at the bouquet, the crinkling of the plastic music to your ears. You sniffed at the roses, pleasantly surprised at just how sweet they smelled. Vibrant hues of pinks and reds, small and large, a loose ribbon holding the bouquet together. Your smile is so wide, you struggle to hide it.      “Glad you like them, honey.” he grinned, taking his shades off and placing them on his nightstand. “Hold on tight, more to come, love.”      He takes a quick jog to the hallway leading to you two’s room, quickly getting out of view. Coming back just 20 seconds later, a teddybear half the size of him now limp in his hands, another ribbon around the teddybear’s neck.      “For you, my sweet.” he sings, setting the plush down onto the covers. You look at the teddybear, staring at you with beady eyes, and back up at Gojo.      “But babe, you’re my teddybear.” you cooed, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him.      You see his facial features soften, before he immediately plants a sloppy kiss on your forehead, “Wouldn’t hurt to have another one, would it?”       You nod your head in agreement.       The chill aura seemed to vanish into thin air as soon as you nod, the silence was almost deafening. He stared at you, and you stared back, you hear your heart steadily pound in your chest. Usually he would make some sort of joke right now and then, but he seemed unusually serious, to the point where you’d be concerned.       “You’ve been acting weird all day, are you okay?-” you ask, but you’re immediately cut off. Gojo gets on one knee, and your heart races and you swear you see the light, playing with the hem of his jean pockets before pulling some sort of wrapper out.      A wrapper?      It’s a Ringpop, two flavors. Blue raspberry and watermelon, he hastily places the blue raspberry one into his pocket again, cursing as he struggled to do so, before finally repositioning.      “Will you marry me, (Y/N)?”      It takes a moment to register into your brain, for one, he was proposing with a Ringpop, but you guess that’s like him, his love of candy was absurd- but a Ringpop of all things?      You feel your face fall, and you hope he doesn’t realize. The thought was good, but it felt strangely.. Tacky, in some ways. Nonetheless, your heart is still pounding rapidly inside of you, and you’re sweating bullets now. Skin burning to the touch, you look at him, heavily breathing.      “Yes, oh my God, yes.” is all you can breathe out.       His solemn face was now beaming, eyes bright and twinkling. He seems to scoff, like he doesn’t quite believe that you said yes to such a request, but he doesn’t want to give it another thought.        Immediately diving headfirst into your face, your lips touch, and even though you had kissed him about a thousand times today, you still returned just as much passion. You felt like your whole body was about to give out, wobbling as he placed the Ringpop onto the covers.       Forgotten, it sat idly, but you didn’t care, and nor did Gojo. Hand now at the back of your neck, the other on your hip, the sound of sloppy kisses filled the otherwise calm room. They were strangely chaste, nothing sexual about them, yet they felt so fulfilling you wonder how he does it. He was unusually good at kissing, but you don’t want to tell him that- the egotistical bastard.      He pulls away from the kiss, and you whine, pulling at the collar of his sweater to come back- to please you- but he pays no mind to you. Instead, he rips open the wrapper, throwing it to the ground, pulling up your limp arm.      With a confident toothy smile on his face, he slipped the translucent pink plastic ring onto your left middle finger.      “That’s my middle.” you say, struggling to stifle your giggle. Who cared about getting a Ringpop? It was the thought that counted, right?      You still felt horrible, for whatever reason.       “I know that.” he doesn’t say it directly to your face, instead shuffling in his pockets once more, before he whips out what looks like a black cube. This time, you recognize an expensive label on it, a miniature velvety black box.       “I just.. Wanted to make sure you were committed, and that you didn’t want me for my money or some bullshit like that.” he grinned, opening the box, he doesn’t give you a moment to eye it, instead plucking it out and slipping it onto your ring finger.      Only then could you look at it, and you cover your mouth once more, tears beginning to form at the corner of your eyes. It was beautiful, truly, and you couldn’t explain it’s beauty with words. Glimmering diamonds, alongside a beautiful silvery frame- it was perfect.      “...Do you like it?” he asks, once again an air of nervousness.      Unable to speak, you hug him instead, now full on bawling. He laughs, rubbing your back, giving you another neck kiss.      “Holy shit, you’re so cute, pumpkin. Or should I say, soon to be spouse?” he cooed.     “Shut up.” you say, still sniffling, snot running down your nose.       He chuckles dryly once again, wiping your tears away with his thumb.      “If you’re not gonna eat that Ringpop, can I?”       “Zip it, can’t you see I’m crying, dummy?” you respond, still ugly crying. It was the best Valentines day you had ever experienced, and nothing could quite conquer it.          

[ot3]

i watched red vs blue: zero with my dear friends today and i was asked to “post” my “thoughts” on the subject. Please do not click this readmore unless, for some reason, you want to read three thousand words on the subject of red vs blue: zero critical analysis. i highly doubt that’s the reason anyone is following me, but hey. 

anyway. here you have it. 

Here are my opinions on RVB0 as someone who has quite literally no nostalgia for any older RVB content. I’ve seen seasons 1-13 once and bits and pieces of it more than once here and there, but I only saw it for the first time within the past couple of months. I’ve literally never seen any other RT/AH content. I can name a few people who worked on OG Red vs. Blue but other than Mounty Oum I have NO idea who is responsible for what, really, or what anything else they’ve ever worked on is, or whether or not they’re awful people. I know even less about the people making RVB0 - All I know is that the main writer is named Torrian but I honestly don’t even know if that’s a first name, a last name, or a moniker. All this to say; nothing about my criticism is rooted in any perceived slight against the franchise or branding by the new staff members, because I don’t know or care about any of it. In fact, I’m going to try and avoid any direct comparison between RVB0 and earlier seasons of RVB as a means of critique until the very end, where I’ll look at that relationship specifically.

So here is my opinion of RVB0 as it stands right now:

1. The Writing

Everything about RVB0 feels as if it was written by a first-time writer who hasn’t learned to kill his darlings. The narrative is both simultaneously far too full, leaving very little breathing room for character interaction, and oddly sparse, with a story that lacks any meaningful takeaway, interesting ideas, or genuine emotional connection. It also feels like it’s for a very much younger audience - I don’t mean this as a negative at all. I love tv for kids. I watch more TV for kids than I do for adults, mostly, but I think it’s important to address this because a lot of the time ‘this is for kids’ is used to act like you’re not allowed to critique a narrative thoroughly. It definitely changes the way you critique it, but the critique can still be in good faith.  I watched the entirety of RVB0 only after it was finished, in one sitting, and I was giving it my full attention, essentially like it was a movie. I’m going to assume it was much better to watch in chunks, because as it stood, there was literally no time built into the narrative to process the events that had just transpired, or try and predict what events might be coming in the future. When there’s no time to think about the narrative as you’re watching it, the narrative ends up as being something that happens to the audience, not something they engage with. It’s like the difference between taking notes during a lecture or just sitting and listening. If you’re making no attempt to actively process what’s happening, it doesn’t stick in your mind well. I found myself struggling to recall the events and explanations that had immediately transpired because as soon as one thing had happened, another thing was already happening, and it was like a mental juggling act to try and figure out which information was important enough to dwell on in the time we were given to dwell on it.

Which brings me to another point - pacing. Every event in the show, whether a character moment, a plot moment, or a fight scene, felt like it was supposed to land with almost the exact same amount of emotional weight. It all felt like The Most Important Thing that had Yet Happened. And I understand that this is done as an attempt to squeeze as much as possible out of a rather short runtime, but it fundamentally fails. When everything is the most important thing happening, it all fades into static. That’s what most of 0’s narrative was to me: static. It’s only been a few hours since I watched it but I had to go step by step and type out all of the story beats I could remember and run it by my friends who are much more enthusiastic RVB fans than I am to make sure I hadn’t missed or forgotten anything. I hadn’t, apparently, but the fact that my takeaway from the show was pretty accurate and also disappointingly lackluster says a lot. Strangely enough, the most interesting thing the show alluded to - a holo echo, or whatever the term they used was - was one of the things least extrapolated upon in the show’s incredibly bulky exposition. Benefit of the doubt says that’s something they’ll explore in future seasons (are they getting more? Is that planned? I just realized I don’t actually know.)

And bulky it was! I have quite honestly never seen such flagrant disregard for the rule of “show, don’t tell.” There was not a single ounce of subtlety or implication involved in the storytelling of RVB0. Something was either told to you explicitly, or almost entirely absent from the narrative. Essentially zilch in between. We are told the dynamic the characters have with each other, and their personality pros and cons are listed for us conveniently by Carolina. The plot develops in exposition dumps. This is partially due to the series’ short runtime, but is also very much a result of how that runtime was then used by the writers. They sacrificed a massive chunk of their show for the sake of cramming in a ton of fight scenes, and if they wanted to keep all of those fight scenes, it would have been necessary to pare down their story and characters proportionally in comparison, but they didn’t do that either. They wanted to have it both ways and there simply wasn’t enough time for it. 

The story itself is… uninteresting. It plays out more like the flimsy premise of a video game quest rather than a piece of media to be meaningfully engaged with. RVB0 is I think something I would be pitched by a guy who thinks the MCU and BNHA are the best storytelling to come out of the past decade. It is nothing but tropes. And I hate having to use this as an insult! I love tropes. The worst thing about RVB0 is that nothing it does is wholly unforgivable in its own right. Hunter x Hunter, a phenomenal shonen, is notoriously filled with pages upon pages of detailed exposition and explanations of things, and I absolutely love it. Leverage, my favorite TV show of all time, is literally nothing but a five man band who has to learn to work as a team while seemingly systematically hitting a checklist of every relevant trope in the book. Pacific Rim is an incredibly straightforward good guys vs giant monsters blockbuster to show off some cool fight scenes such as a big robot cutting an alien in half with a giant sword, and it’s some of the most fun I ever have watching a movie. Something being derivative, clunky, poorly executed in some specific areas, narratively weak, or any single one of these flaws, is perfectly fine assuming it’s done with the intention and care that’s necessary to make the good parts shine more. I’ll forgive literally any crime a piece of media commits as long as it’s interesting and/or enjoyable to consume. RVB0 is not that. I’m not sure what the main point of RVB0 was supposed to be, because it seemingly succeeds at nothing. It has absolutely nothing new or innovative to justify its lack of concern for traditional storytelling conventions. Based solely on the amount of screentime things were given, I’d be inclined to say the narrative existed mostly to give flimsy pretense for the fight scenes, but that’s an entire other can of worms.

2. The Visuals + Fights

I have no qualms with things that are all style and no substance. Sometimes you just want to see pretty colors moving on the screen for a while or watch some cool bad guys and monsters or whatever get punched. RVB0 was not this either. The show fundamentally lacked a coherent aesthetic vision. Much of the show had a rather generic sci-fi feel to it with the biggest standouts to this being the very noir looking cityscape, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like something from a batman game, or the temple, which my friends and I all immediately joked looked like a world of warcraft raid. They were obviously attempting to get variety in their environment design, which I appreciate, but they did this without having a coherent enough visual language to feel like it was all part of the same world. In general, there was also just a lack of visual clarity or strong shots. The value range in any given scene was poor, the compositions and framing were functional at best, and the character animation was unpleasantly exaggerated. It just doesn’t really look that good beyond fancy rendering techniques.

The fight scenes are their entire own beast. Since ‘FIGHT SCENE’ is the largest single category of scenes in the show, they definitely feel worth looking at with a genuine critical eye. Or, at least, I’d like to, but honestly half the time I found myself almost unable to look at them. The camera is rarely still long enough to really enjoy what you’re watching - tracking the motion of the character AND the camera at such constant breakneck high speeds left little time to appreciate any nuances that might have been present in the choreography or character animation. I tried, believe me, I really did, but the fight scenes leave one with the same sort of dizzy convoluted spectacle as a Michael Bay transformers movie. They also really lacked the impact fight scenes are supposed to have.

It’s hard to have a good, memorable fight scene without it doing one of three things: 1. Showing off innovative or creative fighting styles and choreography 2. Making use of the fight’s setting or environment in an engaging and visually interesting way or 3. Further exploring a character’s personality or actions by the way they fight. It’s also hard to do one of these things on its own without at least touching a bit on the other two. For the most part, I find RVB0’s fight scenes fail to do this. Other than rather surface level insubstantial factors, there was little to visually distinguish any of RVB0’s fight scenes from each other. Not only did I find a lot of them difficult to watch and unappealing, I found them all difficult to watch and unappealing in an almost identical way. They felt incredibly interchangeable and very generic. If you could take a fight scene and change the location it was set and also change which characters were participating and have very little change, it’s probably not a good fight scene. 

I think “generic” is really just the defining word of RVB0 and I think that’s also why it falls short in the humor department  as well.

3. The Comedy

Funny shit is hard to write and humor is also incredibly subjective but I definitely got almost no laughs out of RVB0. I think a total of three. By far the best joke was Carolina having a cast on top of her armor, which, I must stress, is an incredibly funny gag and I love it. But overall I think the humor fell short because it felt like it was tacked on more than a natural and intentional part of this world and these characters. A lot of the jokes felt like they were just thrown in wherever they’d fit, without any build up to punchlines and with little regard for what sort of joke each character would make. Like, there was some, obviously Raymond’s sense of humor had the most character to it, but the character-oriented humor still felt very weak. When focusing on character-driven humor, there’s a LOT you can establish about characters based on what sort of jokes they choose to make, who they’re picking as the punchlines of these jokes, and who their in-universe audience for the jokes is. In RVB0, the jokes all felt very immersion-breaking and self aware, directed wholly towards the audience rather than occurring as a natural result of interplay between the characters. This is partially due to how lackluster the character writing was overall, and the previously stated tight timing, but also definitely due to a lack of a real understanding about what makes a joke land. 

A rule of thumb I personally hold for comedy is that, when push comes to shove, more specific is always going to be more funny. The example I gave when trying to explain this was this:

saying two characters had awkward sex in a movie theater: funny

saying two characters had an awkward handjob in a cinemark: even funnier

saying two characters spent 54 minutes of 11:14's 1:26 runtime trying out some uncomfortably-angled hand stuff in the back of a dilapidated cinemark that lost funding halfway through retrofitting into a dinner theater: the funniest

The more specific a joke is, the more it relies on an in-depth understanding of the characters and world you’re dealing with and the more ‘realistic’ it feels within the context of your media. Especially with this kind of humor. When you’re joking with your friends, you don’t go for stock-humor that could be pulled out of a joke book, you go for the specific. You aim for the weak spots. If a set of jokes could be blindly transplanted into another world, onto another cast of characters, then it’s far too generic to be truly funny or memorable. I don’t think there’s a single joke in RVB0 where the humor of it hinged upon the characters or the setting.

Then there’s the issue of situational comedy and physical comedy. This is really where the humor being ‘tacked on’ shows the most. Once again, part of what makes actually solid comedy land properly is it feeling like a natural result of the world you have established. Real life is absurd and comical situations can be found even in the midst of some pretty grim context, and that’s why black comedy is successful, and why comedy shows are allowed to dip into heavier subject matter from time to time, or why dramas often search for levity in humor. It’s a natural part of being human to find humor in almost any situation. The key thing, though, once again, is finding it in the situation. Many of RVB0’s attempts at humor, once again, feel like they would be the exact same jokes when stripped from their context, and that’s almost never good. A pretty fundamental concept in both storytelling in general but particularly comedy writing is ‘setup and payoff’. No joke in RVB0 is a reward for a seemingly innocuous event in an earlier scene or for an overlooked piece of environmental design. The jokes pop in when there’s time for them in between all the exposition and fighting, and are gone as soon as they’re done. There’s no long term, underlying comedic throughline to give any sense of coherence or intent to the sense of humor the show is trying to establish. Every joke is an isolated one-off quip or one-liner, and it fails to engage the audience in a meaningful way.

All together, each individual component of RVB0 feels like it was conjured up independently, without any concern to how it interacted with the larger product they were creating. And I think this is really where it all falls apart. RVB0 feels criminally generic in a way reminiscent of mass-market media which at least has the luxury of attributing these flaws, this complete and total watering down of anything unique, to heavy oversight and large teams with competing visions. But I don’t think that’s the case for RVB0. I don’t know much about what the pipeline is like for this show, but I feel like the fundamental problem it suffers from is a lack of heart.

In comparison to Red vs. Blue

Let's face it. This is a terrible successor to Red vs. Blue. I wouldn’t care if NONE of the old characters were in it - that’s not my problem. I haven’t seen past season 13 because from what I heard the show already jumped the shark a bit and then some. That’s not what makes it a poor follow up. What makes it a bad successor is that it fundamentally lacks any of the aspects of the OG RVB that made it unique or appealing at all. I find myself wondering what Torrian is trying to say with RVB0 and quite literally the only answer I find myself falling back onto is that he isn’t trying to say anything at all. Regardless of what you feel about the original RVB, it undeniably had things to say. The opening “why are we here” speech does an excellent job at establishing that this is a show intended to poke fun at the misery of bureaucracy and subservience to nonsensical systems, not just in the context of military life, but in a very broad-strokes way almost any middle-class worker can relate to. At the end of the day, fiction is at its best when it resonates with some aspect of its audience’s life. I know instantly which parts of the original Red vs Blue I’m supposed to relate to. I can’t say anything even close to that about 0.

RVB is an absurdist parody that heavily satirizes aspects of the military and life as a low-on-the-food-chain worker in general that almost it’s entire target audience will be familiar with. The most significant draw of the show to me was how the dialogue felt like listening to my friends bicker with each other in our group chats. It required no effort for me to connect with and although the narrative never outright looked to the camera and explained ‘we are critiquing the military’s stupid red tape and self-fullfilling eternal conflict’ they didn’t need to, because the writing trusted itself and its audience enough to believe this could be conveyed. It is, in a way, the complete antithesis to the badass superhero macho military man protagonist that we all know so well. RVB was saying something, and it was saying it in a rather novel format.

Nothing about RVB0 is novel. Nothing about RVB0 says anything. Nothing about it compels me to relate to any of these characters or their situations. RVB0 doesn’t feel like absurdism, or satire. RVB0 feels like it is, completely uncritically, the exact media that RVB itself was riffing off of. Both RVB0 and RVB when you watch them give you the feeling that what you’re seeing here is kids on a playground larping with toy soldiers. It’s all ridiculous and over the top cliche stupid garbage where each side is trying to one-up the other. The critical difference is, in RVB, we’re supposed to look at this and laugh at how ridiculous this is. In RVB0 we’re supposed to unironically think this is all pretty badass. 

The PFL arc of the original RVB existed to show us that setting up an elite team of supersoldiers with special powers was something done in bad faith, with poor outcomes, that left everyone involved either cruel, damaged, or dead. It was a bad thing. And what we’re seeing in RVB0 is the same premise, except, this time it’s good. We’re supposed to root for this format. RVB0 feels much more like a demo reel, cutscenes from a video game that doesn’t exist, or a shonen anime fanboy’s journal scribbling than it feels like a piece of media with any objective value in any area.  In every area that RVB was anti-establishment, RVB0 is pure undiluted establishment through and through.  

[antihero-writings]

If These Walls Could Talk (Ch7)

(^^ Art commissioned from Junki Sakuraba on instagram and deviantart!!)

Fandom: Castlevania Netflix

Summary: Vampires do not have reflections, and castles do not have hearts. But Dracula is no ordinary vampire, and Castlevania is no ordinary castle. If castles can fight, maybe they can think too. The series, and Adrian’s childhood, told from the perspective of the castle.

Notes: Hey all! I am SO sorry this chapter took so long to come out. My perfectionism really got the best of me with this chapter. But I saw that S4 was on its way and that really lit a fire under my butt because I really do want to post my season 3 chapter before s4 comes out. I’m highly doubt I’ll accomplish it as it almost always takes me longer than I have to get a chapter out, let alone two, but I'll try, at least.

I really really hope you enjoy it!! If you enjoy this chapter, please please consider commenting. I assure you it’ll be more likely I’ll post the next chapter faster the more people comment on this showing you still enjoy this fic. Each comment is a little shot of energy and motivation for me.

Important! This chapter is meant to have aesthetic indentation in some places. So if you want to read it as-intended, please look it at on Archiveofourown at I_prefer_the_term_antihero on your computer or tablet!!

If you get here and are thinking “Wait, what was this fic about? What were the main themes?” then this would be a good time to reread/skim back through the earlier chapters. This is the climax of the fic and will (hopefully) be more impactful the more you remember about the rest of the fic and its many themes.

Chapter Summary:

"Go back whence you came! Trouble the soul of my Mother no more!" "How? How—How is it that I've been so defeated?" "You have been doomed ever since you lost the ability to love." "Ha—Ah... Sarcasm. 'For what profit is it to a man if he gains the world, and loses his own soul?' Matthew 16:26, I believe. "Tell me. What—What were Lisa's last words?" "She said 'Do not hate humans. If you cannot live with them, then at least do them no harm. For theirs is already a hard lot'. She also said to tell you that she would love you for all of eternity." "Lisa, forgive me. Farewell my son."

Chapter 7: “Heart”

Hey there, Sunshine, the Room adds with a smile.

The Room forgot the sweet tang of breath. How gentle, how vicious. Like honey, like relief, like a cozy blanket and a fireplace. It came in great, gulping gasps, and living was painful after such long breathlessness, but hurt far less than being half dead.

The Room rushes to Castlevania, shaking it, saying, Open your eyes! Open your eyes! It’s Adrian. It’s our boy. My master. My sunlight. And Castlevania limply flickers open its eyes, for it cannot help but obey.

Obey to see the golden man standing in its doorway.

And it feels a jolt of warmth in its broken chest.

Alucard has returned home. He arrives at the doorstep with resolve in his closed fists and a sword on his tongue. The threat to the war they all knew he would be, and the Room promised it would rear him to be.

But he isn’t alone this time.

There are two humans by his side. One with fire in her fists—quite literally—the other with a barbed tongue at his hip.

Castlevania recognizes a crest on the clothing of one of them, gold and proud: The Belmonts. The ones who came with whips and scourges to defeat its master long ago. The ones whom Dracula and his Castle were bound together against in their undead war. The ones whom Dracula trusted his Castle to protect him from. The owner of the hold now beneath Castlevania. He has come to defeat its master like the rest…but this time the boy is by his side, and for that reason, the Castlevania is unsure how this will end.

“I terrify them,” the Belmont explains the plan, “Sypha disorients them, Alucard goes over the top and we support him.”

“Yes.” The Speaker confirms.

Alucard holds his sword out horizontally in front of him, unsheathes it, and speaks:

“Begin.”

Alucard is with the Belmont.

And Castlevania knows when it sees them, the fire in their eyes, that they are the intent that brought it here. That they have indeed come to kill its master once and for all. It had wished when the boy returned, it would be with the promise of hope. But there is no promise of life and the sparing of it this time.

They bring death inside with them; the war room is filled with war, blood and burns on its floors, but it is different this time, because this is not an ambiance, a continuation, a fact of life, it is a swift and fatal kiss—the end they said he would bring, once. The blood is rotten on the floors, but it doesn’t itch or burn. And the boy uses those techniques his father taught him on brighter nights about turning into things with teeth, and the ones his mother once taught him on sunnier days about how to make metal listen.

They did not bring life inside this time, not life of the same kind at least. The war, the death, has followed and swallowed them too, but not in the same way it has its master. They are not bloodthirsty. The cold the dark and the death are merely clothes they wear, they have not reached the deepest parts of them; there are still light-starved Rooms in their hearts waiting to breathe.

There is a song at their heels as they dance in rings of fire, with the wind and the moon, upon the blood and water Castlevania isn’t sure will come out of the carpet. It is a song that is all too familiar. It has been played here before, when other, more, less, holy Belmonts barged in long ago. A song of blood and tears.

Bloody tears its master cried once, for his wife when he realized they had taken something that could not be borrowed, bartered, or souled.

They’re bringing an end to the strife, and all the undead lives that facilitated it, and vice versa. They are cutting the puppet strings, and not all puppets can live without them.

Isaac fights the nameless soldiers on the staircase for its master…until he sees someone who is far from nameless.

Isaac’s reddened eyes meet Alucard’s golden ones. Alucard’s sword aims at him, but it hits the deadened flesh of the nameless instead.

Isaac runs to tell its master—Dracula, busy ripping out the heart of a nameless—who’s here; that his sun has returned, and at his side is magic and might.

Dracula knows the prophecy.

He’s willing to die—Issac. He stands before Dracula, his form barely able to shield three-quarters of Dracula’s, willing to give his feeble human life for Dracula’s indefinite undead one. He believes knowledge and will are more important than the blood of a good man. He believes in love, and loyalty is love of a sort. And it is Castlevania’s understanding that when someone is willing to live for something, they are also willing to die for it. This is the noblest of causes.

“You are the greatest of your people, Isaac. You have a soul, I think.” As Dracula says the words, he raises his hand, and the mirror shards behind them begin to rise. “Perhaps that is more valuable to the world to come than a dusty collection of books and apparatus.”

Lisa looks on from the portrait, and Castlevania thinks it is a look of pride. She always did stand for saving human lives rather than destroying them. Isn’t it funny that in what will perhaps be the deciding battle of this war, the one where his goals should possess him stronger than ever, it is the human who he values more than himself?

“Or perhaps you simply deserve a better fate than to die instead of me.”

“I choose my death, as I chose my life.” The words are stronger than iron.

“Then I regret only that I have taken a choice for you.” A hand at his shoulder.

Dracula throws him halfway across the world, to the kind of place Isaac was born in, and the kind of place Isaac least wants to die in.

Isaac believes in love. And it is for this reason, this belief, that Vlad saves his life, Castlevania knows. Saves his life, by denying the choice he so desperately wanted to make—perhaps his whole life—and had no regrets or apprehensions about making, rather a lot more in being kept alive.

And when the mirror shatters and falls, his son is standing there, like he did a year ago, though this time he is not backed by sunlight. The only light in the room is the fire glinting in his eyes.

A pause. To remember the dead.

“Father.”

A word. To remember the living.

“Son.”

This should be a reunion, perhaps. Better people would think they should happily hug each other, and say they missed each other, and that they love each other all the same. Better people would say that the sunlight should plead with the dark to come back into its embrace. All the sinners know there was no chance of that the moment Dracula scrawled fate on his son’s skin with his own claws.

Instead, there is nothing but bitter, fighting words:

“Your war is over.”

Dracula tilts his head to the side. “Because you say so?”

“It ends.” Alucard looks at his sword, the one she taught him how to use. “In the name of my mother.”

Dracula looks at his son, the one she gave him. “It endures in the name of your mother.”

“I told you before I won’t let you do it.” Alucard’s voice is so soft, yet solid and unwavering. There is no anger, but he will not step aside. Not this time. Even when the claws come. “I grieve with you…but I won’t let you commit genocide.”

“You couldn’t stop me before.” Dark assurance in soft words.

Footsteps. A cue to the magic and the hunt behind the curtain, who step out on either side of him.

“I was alone before.”

And Castlevania understands. Understands that they are not here to talk things out. Understands that they are not here to save Dracula, to appeal to the good in him, as Lisa once had, and the Room once thought. Castlevania itself even hoped, when the boy returned, the song would be a bit more inspirational. But, beaten and broken and bloody, Castlevania understands now, if Alucard stands with the intent, if Alucard brought a Belmont—

Then they do not believe there is a chance. They are not here then, to talk him out of it. They are here to halt this war in its tracks, make it rear up, lose its balance, and fall.

—(And Castlevania knows, deep down, that to do this… they must end something else)—

Alucard is bringing back the sunlight. But there is only one way he can do that, and goodnight is not quiet.

And make no mistake he does intend to bring the full, the warm, the life, and the light back, just like Castlevania and the Room wanted. But there is too much cold, dark, death, and emptiness here to do this quietly. They are here to kill Dracula—the master now puppeteered by Death’s strings rather than his own soul.

The Speaker raises her fingers to her lips as if to say a prayer, or perhaps take a heavenly name in vain for the sake of a little silence. The Belmont’s whip clinks in his hand. Alucard’s sword sings as he raises it.

Alucard drives it towards his father: a bolt of golden lightning through the room, pinning him against the fireplace as books fall to the floor. Castlevania, wincing at the pain, knows that will bruise in the morning.

The picture of his mother cracks and falls, as if she has to close her eyes for this.

Alucard, growling with fierce resolve, pushing the sword into him with all his might. But Dracula has the sword in his hand, rather than his heart. He steps calmly forward, barely having to use any of his strength to combat so much of his son’s, as if he’s about to tell him to put the toy away.

A glint of golden eyes. Alucard pulls back the sword. A slash. Two. Three.

Dracula raises his arm as if to knock the sword from his shoulder.

Instead he bashes his son’s head into the fireplace—and Castlevania cries out at the feeling, feeling its stomach burn.

The Speaker and the Belmont ready for a fight. The floor splinters—(Castlevania grimaces, tasting blood)—as Dracula flashes through the room, and pins the Belmont into the hall, against the wall, sending his sword out of his hand. He keels over onto his hands to cough up blood, the puddle crawling on Castlevania’s skin.

Castlevania never had any qualms with the blood of Belmonts on its floors before, so this hurts less, but this is different, and Castlevania still wonders if Dracula could be a little gentler with his Castle.

A flash of light at his side. He raises his cloak as the Speaker sends tongues and teeth of fire at him.

“Speaker magician!” Its master realizes.

He rushes at her, knocking her hand out of position. She creates an ice shard before her with the other.

He scratches up with a claw, sending her flying with the broken pieces towards the ceiling, and angry gashes appear on her arm as she rolls along the floor.

“Sypha!” The Belmont calls.

He must love her in some way, because in a fit of some sort of emotion—instead of picking up his sword—the Belmont uses his fists. They probably haven’t failed him before. But this is Dracula, and his punches don’t cause the king to so much as flinch.

“You must be the Belmont.”

Castlevania laughs a little at the words; it too thought the method was rather common of his line.

It’s Dracula’s turn, and his punch doesn’t just cause the Belmont to flinch, the sound is as if he hit rock, sending him into the air with the force. He doesn’t give him a second to breathe, rather reaches his claw is around the human’s neck, holding him there.

He raises his other claw level—a blade, more trustworthy than any.

“The end of your line.”

Before he can make these words true, another blade stops him: his son’s, driving itself through both his arms.

While he is pinned the Speaker, knowing this is an opportunity she will not get again, rushes forward—still bleeding, mind—a bead of fire between her fingers. Dracula cannot move to protect himself, and the magician, knowing this, lets the fire loose to lick his face raw.

Dracula drops the Belmont, attempting to get away, deciding his own life takes precedence, but it is hard to get away when your hands are tied together with metal.

The Speaker, seeing that her fire is about to hit Alucard, falters. And in that moment Dracula wrenches his arm off of the blade and uses it to knock her down, before sending his other fist into his son, who goes flying along with his sword hitting the wall. This one may not be so hard as to bruise, but, with everything aching and breaking, the smallest tap hurts Castlevania.

The Belmont pulls a blade of bone from his back-belt, and as Dracula turns he drives it into his chest.

It’s not close enough to his heart, but red distaste fills Dracula’s eyes. He thought this was a game, but they have some amount of ability, and he may have underestimated them. As Alucard and the magician get up he attempts to grab at the Belmont in quick motions, but he has some skill in dodging.

The Speaker rips off her shirt and cauterizes her wound as the Belmont and Dracula dance in the hallway, neither weapon hitting flesh.

Dracula sees the Speaker’s intent over his shoulder, and as the Belmont lunges at him grabs his arm and throws him into her, stopping both their attacks. An effective move, if Castlevania does say so itself.

Alucard sees his opening and rushes forward, pinning his father to the wall, which shatters behind them with a painful lurch.

Dracula puts his hands together and brings them down over his son’s head with such force the floor cracks.

And Castlevania coughs blood.

Alucard pushes his arms away and slaps both sides of his face, getting a grunt this time. Dracula sends him back with such force it almost seems like a shockwave, creating wind and smoke curling around them all.

The Speaker roots him in place by sending ice spears into his leg. The Belmont clears the smoke by spinning his whip, before creating more by sending that whip—the one he fed the vampires that didn’t agree with their compositions—sizzling into Dracula’s chest. There’s an explosion to be sure—a rather big one—but after the smoke dissipates, and a wait with bated breath, Dracula is still standing just as he was before—as Castlevania knew he would—like all he threw at him were words.

…At least at first, to show he isn’t taken down so easily. He does fall to his hands thereafter.

“The Morningstar whip.” The words are scratches in the carpet. “Well played, Belmont. But I am no ordinary vampire to be killed by your human magics.” The words sizzle on his tongue. “I am Vlad Dracula Tepes,” he crosses his arms with purpose. “and I have had ENOUGH!”

His voice is a shockwave of its own across the sea of stone and bone. He sweeps his hands to the sides, his cloak rising like wings as he floats into the air, and creates a ball of magma: the cheat that will end the game. He was going easy on them until now.

It rumbles towards them, eating the carpet as it goes—and Castlevania can feel the burning in its chest. The Belmont’s eyes widen with fear at last. The Speaker rises to the occasion without hesitation, and holds out her hands to stop it with the force of her magic. It’s a force to be reckoned with, for sure: at first she succeeds, but, though it may be slowing, it isn’t stopping, and her feet are slipping. The Belmont puts his back to hers, as any good friend and comrade would. Alucard phases in front of them, the burning wind rushing against his face. He calls his sword, which sings as it reaches his hand, poises it, and drives the point into the magma ball.

They each fight with all their might, the Belmont and the speaker begins to grunt with the weight of it. The ball gives a falter their way, and Castlevania is sure even three cannot match Dracula’s strength, but the Speaker gives a final push, which gives Alucard just the right amount of momentum to drive it back toward his father, who is as caught off guard by the display as Castlevania is. He needs no sword or magic to stop it, however, and puts his hands out to hold it. Gold and red push against each other, until Alucard gives a deciding motion, then another, another, each chipping away at the ball until the sword goes flying and it’s just Alucard’s arm against Dracula’s throat, and their momentum creates a sizzling tunnel in the wall.

Castlevania may not know what guns are, but it knows what it feels like to be shot.

The two burst into the library, shattering the already shattered mirror.

It was so quiet in here. Must they sully the silence with the sound of strife? They read here, once. Sometimes alone, sometimes to each other. Whispered to each other of history and mystery.

Dracula lands on the floor and Alucard floats above him in the room in which he once stood on his level and told his father calmly he wouldn’t stand for genocide.

There’s anger in his eyes now.

Dracula hisses, then gives a war cry, and the two allow their hungry fists to attempt to devour each other as best they can in the air, red and gold flashing.

The Belmont picks up a sword in the other room and, deciding it’d be best not to follow them through the tunnel—(Castlevania is glad for that decision. The wound is still raw and would more than likely sting tremendously if they walked on it)—he and the Speaker run up the stairs to follow them.

They’re on the floor now and their punches fly like starlings—their duel reflected in the shards of mirror fluttering, jittering about, ever awaiting their command, as if attempting to tap their shoulders and ask what they should do, and why they are hurting each other—until they are hitting the bookshelves they once were gentle with—lest the pages rip and the silence tear—the ones they once smiled and discussed philosophy beside.

Castlevania’s head aches, nausea in the back of its throat.

A smiling boy and his father handing him another book, saying if he liked the first he’d like the second too, are all but gone now.

Dracula throws Alucard into the ceiling, and enters the room above with an unearthly sound, in an unearthly way: only his cloak is visible, moving like slime. As his hungry footsteps lick the floor behind him, Alucard is heaving on his side that same floor, his hair falling across his face. He turns around, fear coating the sound he makes as he, without his sword, grabs the nearest block of wood that happens to have a point on the end.

Dracula laughs, like they’re playing a game—(they did once, do they remember? Humans and monsters. Sometimes there were princes, and knights, or pirates. Even a princess or two. And the wolves and the bats were free in the night wind)—and stops.

“You mean to stake me?”

“You want me to.” Alucard murmurs, turning around with some difficulty.

“What?” Dracula chuckles, still with that put-the-toys-away intonation.

“You didn’t kill me before.” Alucard breathes. “You’re not going to kill me now. You want this to end as much as I do.” The look in his eyes is almost crazed.

“DO I?!” The tone is almost crazed in response, the nonchalant edge gone, the words resounding with power and grief.

Alucard scrambles away like an animal, causing Dracula to punch the floor instead of his head—Castlevania’s body lurches. It feels a gentle touch at its chin, someone trying to wipe the blood off perhaps.

“You died when my mother died. You know you did.” He reasons as Dracula’s breathing gains weight. “This entire catastrophe has been nothing but history’s longest suicide note.”

Castlevania jerks its head up, eyes wide at these words.

And Castlevania understands.

The cold, the dark, the empty, the death. They all make sense now.

Alucard rushes at him, Dracula knocks the stake out of Alucard’s hand with ease, but, in a moment of extreme dexterity, Alucard manages to grab it from the air and drive it into his chest still. The look in his eyes is almost pleading, like he’s going to ask “Daddy did I do a good job? Did I do it right? I’ve gotten better at fighting haven’t I?”

“Not quite close enough.” There is a gurgling quality to Dracula’s enunciation.

No more playing.

He shoves Alucard so hard its into the next room.

Castlevania keels over onto the floor, it’s stomach aching and prickling.

Dracula pulls the stake out and heaves before rushing after.

Floors below the magician and the Belmont can hear them, and are trying their best to catch up, to have a say in this fight.

But Castlevania isn’t sure they have much chance of that, as they are flashing through the halls now, Alucard, a foot off the ground, zig-zagging between the walls in the narrow hall as Dracula keeps punching bloodless stone—

—(The stone may be bloodless, but god this hurts)—

Until Alucard punches him back, sending them into a room, a bedroom—(but not that one)—and the room is a pile of rubble with just that. And Castlevania can feel the splinters. That furniture was nice.

Dracula grabs Alucard’s face and shoves him into the dining room, pinning him to the table like he’ll eat him too if they’re not careful, and those chairs were perfectly nice too—

And Castlevania sees a little boy waiting at the table for his birthday surprise, and his father pulling out a burned cake, and his mother laughing. There was no fear then. Though its master was a creature of blood it never thirsted for theirs, and they knew this full well. Can they see it too? Why would they destroy this room if they did? Why would they destroy each other if they did? Are they even the same creatures as those in the memory?

At this point Castlevania is pretty sure they broke a few of its ribs.

Alucard kicks his face and gets on the table on all fours, rushing him into the next room still.

Castlevania’s bleeding, broken heart skips a beat. Surely they must have broken a few ribs, for how else could they get into Castlevania’s heart? The control room, where its gears still lie dripping, glowing as orange as a brand, once beating organs now blazing stalactites.

They punch each other along the platform, Dracula’s cloak whipping about, like a cat’s fur trying to make him look bigger and scarier.

They are framed in the paneless window—those bones have been all but broken too now. The frame where the picture—that is to say, the die—no longer sits. For Castlevania’s heart didn’t just break, it was destroyed when they brought it to this place, the place where its enemies once lived, and still stand today.

—(So why can Castlevania still feel it beat?)—

In the frame now is moon drunk on blood, a night soaked in tears—and the wind whispers to their cloaks, bidding them to whip around them.

Dracula draws in a hissing breath.

Alucard stands tall, his eyes aglow, gold melting into something new in this forge, his hair whipping about him as he raises his fist yet again.

They are getting tired. Their snarls have a weakened quality to them now.

—Can they see the father and son in this room, the father teaching his son that his Castle is special?—

But instead of just punching him, Alucard teleports beside his father, hitting his shoulder, sending a gust of wind to his face, then teleports around the room to send his fist into him over and over, from every possible angle, and some of his kick-offs create cracks in the already breaking bindings of the room.

It feels like pins and needles, but it’s okay. It’s okay.

Why?

Dracula’s grits his teeth, sharp as ever, his eyes alight with bloody determination, his hair playing about this gaze. To end it, on the next hit he grabs his face, shoving him by it onto the stone platform. He shoves him once, twice, a third, the metal cracking, the metal creaking—

Castlevania’s gut lurches, and it can taste bile and iron at the back of its throat, and it’s hard to breathe.

Then its master raises Alucard back up, holds him by the face in the air a moment, and punches him with such force he is blown across the length of the platform and through the thick stone wall into the next room—

And Castlevania vomits blood.

Dracula bolts after him, the dust creating patterns in his wake—and Castlevania could gaze in the clouds if it weren’t for whoever’s trying to slap it awake.

Alucard coughs, and it sounded deep.

Its master is nothing human now. There’s a growl in his throat as he marches towards him, and another cough in Alucard’s as he struggles to stand.

Another punch, but this one is not fast like the rest, nor is it blocked. Alucard tries to stand up, to rush towards him, but he is getting tired, and Dracula hits him again. Another growl. Alucard takes a single step back, soft against the floors. An exhale. Another of both, and as Dracula raises his fist the murmur—plea?—on his son’s lips sounds a lot like “Father,” as if he’s reached his limit, and has to stop the game.

It’s too late to hit quit now.

The vampire king doesn’t grant the plea—or perhaps even hear it; with a belabored punch he sends him into the next Room, rolling this time, instead of flying, the contents of the Room staying in tact…all except the bed, which catches the boy.

The next Room. But this one is not like the rest. It is not just a room.

This one breathes.

A gasp, another growl, a scratch against the wall, and—

Castlevania burned today in this bloody fight, on this bloody night. Its skin, its legs. Even its heart broke.

Castlevania. The thing that Vlad Tepes brought to life with a little bit of lightning, several gears, and a few words. No magic words, just words: the ones he spoke on lonely nights to the walls about how he’d like to be something more than ruthless.

Castlevania did everything it could. It lies burned and broken and unable to fight now because of it.

But none of that burned half as much as those scratches on its walls.

There have been many stories told about Dracula, and there will one day be more stories told about Dracula, books written, enough that one could fill libraries with just the retellings of his story. And Castlevania has no doubt that one day these scratches will be on their covers. This growl, these scratches are the signet of a vampire, of a monster: the disfigurement of his Castle, bloody intent directed at his son. The dark, the death, and the emptiness have overtaken completely. That is all a monster is, really. That is all he is now.

He marches into the Room, his cloak flowing, dipping and twirling in the broken wind. The sound of Alucard’s breathing fills the Room as he heaves against the bed.

Or maybe the breath is the Room’s own.

The Room has seen all that happened, it has been watching Castlevania beaten bloody till it could barely breathe, or see through the blood dripping down its face, let alone move. Castlevania could barely feel the comforting hands on it, the attempts to bandage the wounds, or at least stop the bleeding that it knew could only belong to the Room. Castlevania could barely hear the Room’s frantic, desperate calls to action, to get up, or just ask if it was okay. And now the Room stands, fists clenched at its sides. The Room wants to fight back. It will fight back.

The Room is not violent. From the very beginning it stood against all the violence, the dark, the empty, and the death. That was what it was made for, after all. As much as it would like to, it does not wrap its hand around Dracula’s throat, claws digging until it draws blood, and demand “How does it feel?! How does it feel to be on the receiving end?!”

The Room’s footsteps are soft as it comes up beside Dracula. It puts its hands over the king’s eyes and whispers in his ear, gently as it can:

“Remember me?”

Then, quietly as it came, it removes them, as if playing peekaboo, revealing that it was there the whole time, his eyes were just covered for a while.

It may as well have been removing scales, because Dracula freezes, his eyes wide, as if he’s seeing, not just the Room, but the whole world for the first in a long time—And he is. The first time with living eyes. And one sees things very differently with living eyes. And Castlevania was his world and it hopes he sees the world differently, for Castlevania is not a thing for him to beat and break. Just when Castlevania thought there was nothing left…there is something more than anger in his eyes now.

Dracula’s angry cloak quiets, falling docile at his feet: a sign of reverence towards the Room, and all it stands for.

Alucard, after allowing his breath to regain itself, looks up, his eyes widening too at his father. His father. No anger, no fear, not even determination now. Not in this Room. This Room is different. He remembers now: in the hush that has fallen across the world like freshly fallen snow, this is his father.

The Room kneels at it’s boy’s side, putting a hand on his shoulder feeling nothing but life and love, so much so it extends to the creature that created the scars on its throat, and on its boy’s chest.

“It’s okay. You can go to him now.” The Room says.

And it knows what that means.

It knows that sometimes peace comes at the price of war.

Dracula curls his hand, the one with the claw that just made marks on the walls that are written in stone, and will never be undone. Within the glow of the window, his reddened eyes too are no longer angry. For so long those eyes sat dormant, empty, and glazed in his skull and at last they contain something. The Room’s words have gotten through the glaze, shattered the glass.

“It’s your Room.”

It’s more than just a statement. He made a promise when he made this Room. This Room was to be his son’s Room. There would be no violence, not in this Room. Not ever. Not today in as much as not ten years ago. He will not hurt this Room. He will not dare touch it, for fear those claws will mark more than just the walls; that all the memories will come crashing down.

The words are not angry. They are not dark. They are not empty. They are not dead. They may seem dry, and stated, but they are dripping with such longing and loss it might fill the whole Castle.

The desk where Vlad taught Adrian of letters, and of numbers, and of the borders of the world. The wardrobe where Lisa dressed him up in fine clothes, and casual ones depending on the occasion—Dracula had so few special occasions to celebrate alone, they were a lovely thing. The bookshelf full of all the knowledge of immortals, and the stories of mortals. The carpet where the boy sat and played with his toys. The nightstand, still with a potion bottle upon it, and the cards of a game they’ve no doubt forgotten how to play, right where they left it long ago. The shelf above it with another bottle, and a tiny satchel of even tinier precious things, and a little toy lamb. The bed upon which Vlad and Lisa once sat and told stories, and sang lullabies, or else lay curled up next to him when the nightmares got too vicious to bear alone.

—(How many did he have to face alone?)—

And Castlevania can see them all. The father teaching his son to count, and to write. The mother running after her naked toddler, trying to convince him clothes really aren’t so bad. The careful pouring of the potions so they change color, or explode just right, the father smiling proudly when he gets the questions correct. The pride of the mother when her son won the game, and the way her husband said “again” like if they just played another round he would win this time. The boy playing with the lamb and the wolf; they they got along in his stories.

The control room never was Castlevania’s heart…was it?

Alucard stands—the motion fluid now—blue light caressing his face as he raises his eyes. Vlad too looks up. But they’re not looking at each other, or the Room, rather into the stars. Not the ones outside, the ones they painted—brushing paint upon each other’s noses, so long ago, and Castlevania can see that too—as if those stars hold all the bottled wishes of childhood. It always was crowning jewel of this Room.

Adrian’s eyes oscillate like perturbed waters, because he knows, he knows he’s about to lose it all. And yes, there’s a sort of childlike yearning in Adrian’s eyes, as if he’s wishing upon those stars that he didn’t have to do this, because he’d really rather find another way to spend this night.

The stars wipe the bloodstains off of Dracula’s eyes. The blood drains off the moon too, as if he is so powerful he can bid the sky to bleed.

His lips shake with long-forgotten words—(or maybe they were just buried, and not everything buried in a grave stays there)—and he holds his hands to his chest, if nothing else to stop them from hurting innocent boys and castles, and shuts his eyes.

“My boy.” The words are said like everything in him is breaking

And it is.

—(The control room never was Castlevania’s heart. Does that mean it never broke?)—

“I’m—I…” The word falls to the floor, so soft, like it’s the only apology he has to shed. “I’m… I’m killing my boy.” And the truth is so gentle and broken its almost more painful than all those punches to the walls.

He steps across the Room, and this time his footsteps are not foreboding, not marching nor stalking. They are soft. He is only walking. This boy is not his prey. Not in this Room.

He walks to the picture on the wall, the one called “Happy.”

Castlevania remembers the day they took it home. The painter really did do a good job, Lisa had said, and Castlevania agreed. Castlevania soon learned that even when they were not here, even when the boy was not small, even when they were not happy, that moment would still be captured upon the wall to return to any time they missed it. Long ago Dracula had no need of pictures and paintings. But those pictures have been everything to him, and everything left him, now that Lisa is gone. They are all the traces left of what they once were in this Castle. That picture—the one Dracula buried and tried to forget existed—that picture bottled happiness, and it gives Vlad back his happiness now. And it makes him so very sad.

“Lisa. I’m killing our boy.” Vlad says to the memory. “We painted this Room. We…made these toys.”

His eyes as they dart around the Room—to the books, to the basket with the wolf and the blocks—are glazed, but not in the same way as before, this time it is with memory, and that makes them more alive than ever, as are his words. And in that moment she is alive too, and he is Vlad, Lisa’s husband, and Adrian’s father.

“It’s our boy, Lisa.”

And then as he looks down his eyes are not glazed at all, rather they hold understanding. He understands what must be done.

Alucard’s foot pushes off the ground, bends the knee, stands, and, no, he is not Adrian, for there is a cracking, a cracking like lightning, a cracking like the world breaking.

And it is the most horrible sound either the Room or Castlevania have ever heard. More horrible than the squelching any heart Dracula ever ripped out. More horrible than the desperate pleas of his victims. More horrible than the cackles of his friends. More horrible than the crying of the child that Castlevania can still hear echoing through the Room.

—(The sound Castlevania hated so so long ago, and now longs for far more than anything else in the world, longs for that painting to swallow the universe and bring it to life again)—

Castlevania and the Room can both feel that sound like a thousand splinters and spider bites, like both of them shattering as if they were made of glass after all. Even the furniture here bleeds.

Vlad backs up, putting his hands over his face—Don’t hurt them, they don’t know what they’re doing—

—(Yet…he hurt them all. So much so he didn’t just disgrace her words, he tried to kill her gift, their son, her blood)—

“Your greatest gift to me. And I’m killing him.”

He lifts his hands from his face and looks into his son’s eyes, his own so alive, despite their glass, tilting his head to the side. Everything slow and gentle now. He is Vlad. He is Adrian’s father. Not the vampire king who put innocents on stakes. But they all know something happened to Vlad on the night Lisa died.

“I must already be dead.”

And Castlevania, burned and bleeding, understands. The final piece of the puzzle has been put into place. It has been dead too. It’s life, bound in red to its master, will break to the call of a stake. Because a reflection cannot exist without the thing it reflects.

Because…they are mortal.

That was the trade, all those years ago: immortality for mortality. Lisa would gain an immortal mind, and Dracula a mortal soul. He would teach Lisa the knowledge of immortals, the methods of healing that must be kept secret to live with a vampire like time held no grip on them. And she would teach him how to live as a man, how to travel as a man, how to care for his son, as a man, as a father. And in that moment his soul was bound to hers.

She brought the undeath in him to life, and Castlevania understands; only things that are alive can die.

It learned through Lisa, through Adrian, what it was to be alive. And it knew that undeath, while not death, is not life. Dracula was undead and his body could not die. But now that she brought him to life, he could die. His soul already died with her. He’s been rotting in an empty shell—no wonder Death could tie those puppet strings to him. That’s why the emptiness in him was so active; cold and dark and empty were only adjectives before, now they are nouns; he was emptiness, death, walking around. And that, too, is what Castlevania has become. It too is mortal. It didn’t die with her, but something in it ceased to tick when Dracula came back without a soul in his chest, and it knows, bruised and burned, broken, and bleeding that that stake in his son’s hand is calling them both.

You knew all along, didn’t you? Castlevania asks the Room, and there is no malice, no blame, there.

The Room jerks its head up to look at Castlevania, then its eyes soften and it grimaces. I hoped I was wrong. The Room replies softly. I…I hoped there was another way.

Alucard’s eyes hold some sympathy, some semblance of the boy they once knew, in fact rather too much, for both threaten to pour out of those eyes and stop all this. He doesn’t want to. But it’s too late for anything else.

Vlad eyes hold some semblance of the man they once knew, so much so they threaten to make him something more than ruthless, something that doesn’t deserve to die. He closes them tilting his head. He knows what must be done.

There is no anger in either of their eyes, no determination, not even resolve. Not anymore. Adrian wants to free his father in the only way he can.

A step forward, and this step has purpose, that stake is silently growling, drooling at his side as he stalks his prey. Another. Another. Like the beating of all their hearts, and the atmosphere is so silent that everything can only break.

And Dracula will not stop him, will not fight back. Not this time. Like all those times he let his son win, because even though he was more skilled at at the game, it was more satisfying to see Adrian smile.

He is not here to talk things out.

Alucard barely raises that stake—

A second horrible cracking, this one in flesh.

This time he aimed higher.

Dracula’s mouth fills with blood, it seeps through the cracks in his teeth. The blood from his chest drains down the stake—the broken piece of childhood—down his son’s arm, collecting on his elbow, and when it hits the carpet a burn begins to appear on the Room’s chest.

A grunt as Vlad leans forward, the blood dripping from his mouth to the floor—another angry gash upon the Room’s skin, and the Room is trying to pretend it’s okay, but it can’t hide the hurt in its eyes.

It knew what had to be done…but the violence goes against its nature.

His eyes fill with blood, but not from undead purpose. The moon is still clean. These are those bloody tears, the ones from the song earlier today. He is free, relieved…and he will never see his son again.

“Son.”

To remember the living, and those who will live on without him.

And the word is spoken very differently than it was earlier today. Then it was solid and hollow. Now it is ghostly, and so full it could hold all the world. Their world, at least.

This Room, this Castle, that word. They are their whole world.

And it is an honor to have been a world to such terrible, wonderful creatures.

“Father.”

To honor the dying, and what they once were while alive.

The word on Adrian’s tongue is the same, though more solid, more alive, and thus able to hold more pain. A faltering breath, a cracking forgiveness.

The word means something now, at the end, where before they were nothing more than titles. They are pleading with each other. They are bleeding with each other.

They don’t want to do this. They shouldn’t have to. It is far too cruel.

Mothers shouldn’t have to bury their daughters, and sons shouldn’t have to kill their fathers. It’s an unspoken rule of life.

But Alucard can’t stop there. He must finish this. The fire, the resolve regurgitates in his eyes, and he pushes harder, like with the magma ball, and, no, this cracking is worse, because Castlevania can feel it in its own chest now.

Castlevania can hear its master’s heartbeat, can feel it with the drops of blood dripping and sizzling on the floor, and it thinks it might just be its own heartbeat.

Alucard does not hate his father: there is pain on his face. But he cannot stop there.

He must end this war. And unlike those given with kisses to his forehead once, this goodnight is not gentle. Not this time.

He inhales,

closes his eyes,

and breaks his father’s chest.

That stake goes right through Castlevania, and something in it involuntary breaks.

The control room never was Castlevania’s heart. The destruction of the die was merely the amputation of both its legs, still bleeding out. This is a breaking, not of skin or bone, but of something deeper. It thinks this might just be what it feels like to cry.

And something happens in the breaking. A change of some sort. Castlevania isn’t quite sure what—pain and disorientation are the best of friends—all it knows is that the world is smaller now, and hurts less.

And as Castlevania’s heart breaks, the reflection in the painting shatters, the reflection of the bond between father and son severing with a stake.

The world is so much smaller now.

Dracula’s head jerks back and, eyes now seeing something other than this world.

Dracula is no ordinary vampire, so he does not die like an ordinary vampire. Rather than catching on fire, there’s just smoke and ash; his face drains, turning from ghostly pale to a charcoal, black without flame, before it really is ash, sliding off his face, his cloak like sludge.

There’s no orange, just the red stain, and the grey his life was marred of. Ash and smoke. The true undeath.

Alucard turns his face away, still holding the stake in place.

Dracula lifts up a hand, a skeleton hand, and Alucard turns to see the skin sloughing off around his ring. Though his spirit may have left, it seems his body won’t quite let go of this world; with mere bones Dracula reaches out, takes a step forward, as if to touch his face, to hold his son one last time, to catch the last embrace he was not afforded.

Adrian has shed that resolve, now he can do nothing but take slow and careful steps back away from the monster he has no sword or shield to fight. He the child again, the one who belonged in this Room, shying away. He is Adrian, the one who didn’t like the stories that were bloody. And in all the years the boy spent in this Room, the sheer fear in Adrian’s eyes as he looks up to see his father’s rotted face, with mouth agape, leaning bloodlessly towards him—an image that Castlevania fears will haunt him the rest of his days—is matchless.

Hurried footsteps at the door. The Speaker and the Belmont, at last, have made it to the show, though it seems they paid for only the final song. They step upon the threshold to see the rotting corpse of the king stepping towards his fearful, tearful price.

The Belmont draws his sword, and Dracula’s deflated head—the one that seemed so alive moments earlier—lies in a bloody pool on the floor. And as the neck bleeds and the Belmont watches the body fall to the floor, he isn’t sure if that was enough.

And Castlevania can’t feel its heartbeat anymore.

“Alucard. Step back.” Sypha’s voice is tempered. “Let me finish this.”

He does, the steps cautious and small, sorrow in his gaze. He holds the unbroken bedpost till his hand shakes.

Castlevania never liked children, the crying, the leaving, the guests, or being controlled.

But it did like Lisa. It did like Adrian. And—be it a sting—it did like the sunlight. And always and forever, it loved its master. A reflection cannot help but adore the thing it reflects. A creation cannot help but be a worshipper of its creator. A dream cannot help but revere its dreamer.

“You want me to.”

Smiling a little at how true the words were, in the end, Castlevania found it quite liked the relief.

Castlevania puts a hand on the Room’s cheek, smiling, and its mouth tastes less like blood now. It looks at the moon—bleeding no longer—and blue calm fills every part of it.

“What a wonderful night to have a curse.”

The Room stares at the castle, a little horrified by the sentiment.

“What…What should I do?” The Room stutters, fear and realization coating its words, for it knows what’s happening.

Castlevania smiles wider than ever, and its voice sounds softer; “The children.”

“What?”

“You should let them in. Any child who needs refuge. Along with as many guests as your master wants to welcome. And you should cry. Cry when you need to—and let your master cry too. Stay, but let him leave, if he must, knowing he will always come back. Let yourself be controlled at times, because sometimes that which feels the least right is the most right.”

“I—I don’t understand.”

“Be warm. Let the light in every window. Be full, and most of all, live. Can you do that for me?”

The Room holds onto the Castle to keep it from falling, tears already descending its cheeks.

“I—I will try.”

The Speaker lets the flame loose to eat the pieces, to engulf its master’s body in the fire he stared at all along, as if yearning for its embrace, creating a spiral of flame upon the circle in the carpet.

They were right to assume it wasn’t over, at least, because there are shapes in the flames; from the smoke and ashes rises a tower of skulls, a legion of spirits, more than a one king’s soul should hold. They’re all crying havoc, war, blood and pain from a yesterday long forgotten. Their smoke snuffs out the flame, blight covering the Room, blocking out the stars that so enraptured them earlier. Sypha and the Belmont cover their faces, but Alucard is unsurprised and undaunted by the darkness lurking in his father’s chest, and faces it without looking away. This darkness bursts out the window like a flower bloom, flows like a river out into the hall—the one cracked and bruising—flying over the war Room where the war resides no longer, and escapes into the night, fluttering, spiraling around Castlevania’s parapets like butterflies.

On the charred floor, the only thing left of the king is his wedding ring.

Castlevania sees the vampire king as he once was; young and restless. The skeletons eating stakes. Castlevania remembers what it once was: lightning, books, gears, and a few lonely words. It sees the woman with the knife at the door. It watches them build the Room. It watches the boy grow up into this beautiful thing.

Castlevania always wondered if it could breathe. It was never quite sure. The Room always seemed to possess a kind of life it never had; a life that hid in the breath.

“Take good care of him for me,” Castlevania murmurs to the Room.

“Have I ever failed you before?” The Room tries to smile, wiping its eyes.

As the sun rises over the hills, a single ray filters in through Castlevania’s window, touching it, filling every part of it, and for once it doesn’t sting.

And with the last sigh of the last ghost circling the parapets, Castlevania exhales its last breath.