#couldnt think of what to draw them doing so i bashed one over the head (genius)

[milesofstars]

some pink blood warning

happy saiouma saturday here are some doodles

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Poor Little Anxious Crybaby (Pt.9)

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Feel like I should clarify for those of you who havent seen the full post about it: this is based on the K-12 and Crybaby albums by Melanie Martinez, this is not my original idea and the storyline for each part is taken from there, with the exception of my own edits to the story

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Virgil had been throwing a abnormal amount of parties now that Brennan had been gone for two weeks. It was more concerning that he continued to make cakes and decorations and get dressed up when no one attended these events. When Patton had begun to get concerned Emile had merely told him that Virgil was likely replacing his feelings of loneliness with the format of a social event, even if socializing wasnt included.

Virgil liked going to the store alone, it was big and the aisles were fun to run around in, especially since hardly anyone shopped there. The boy at the counter was rather tall, with messy brown hair that had a white streak right at the front, and the beginnings of a mustache, and red eyes. Virgil tended to ask him about his eyes, he liked them a lot, they reminded him of blood.

After about four visits the boy finally told Virgil that his name was Remus, he was fifteen, and he had a brother named Roman. The brother's name sounded familiar, but Virgil couldnt quite figure out how, Roman was never at the store, Remus said he was home sick, and couldnt really do much anyways.

"So what's the theme today?" Remus said as Virgil shoved a stack of decorations over the counter.

"Carnival," Virgil said simply, fishing for his wallet as Remus rang up the streamers and table cloth.

"What do you do with all this party stuff when you're done anyways?" Remus said.

"Put it in recycling, duh," Virgil said. As they were talking the sound of an ice cream truck came from outside, both boys turned their heads and watched it part.

The man running the truck was tall and hairy, he looked almost like a wolf, he was skinnier than you'd expect a wolf to be, though. He walked past the boys at the counter, seemingly not noticing either of them. Virgil finished paying for his things and ran out of the store, excited to get started on the party.

The truck and the man seemed to make routine appearances at the store now, each time passing Virgil and Remus like they werent even there.

"What's he buy anyways?" Virgil said, before the truck had arrived. He'd been deliberating what to make for the party that night when they'd landed on the subject of ice cream, which lead to the current topic.

"More ice cream to fill the truck, you'd think he'd have some already but nope, always comes in for more, and all kinds of other sweets to, I bet those are the toppings," Remus said, shrugging. The two of them stopped as they heard the familiar music, Virgil quickly rushing off to the dessert aisle, hoping he might be able to get some more information on the man.

He heard his footsteps, and watched out of the corner of his eye as the man picked out some different types of ice cream.

"I've heard people like that cotton candy stuff," Virgil muttered out of the corner of his mouth, shuffling over to another section of desserts, pretending to examine another cake. The man merely grunted and selected a few more types before walking up to the counter. Virgil waited until the truck had left before he approached Remus again.

"Anything weird?" He said, sliding his stuff over to the taller boy.

"Nope, same as usual, I grunt less than him in bed. You'd think he'd say hello in one language or another huh," Remus said. Virgil chose to ignore the comment.

"Do you think we should tell someone? He has a pretty clear routine, and no one should have to come back daily if they're buying that much stuff at once right?" Virgil said.

Remus thought on this for a bit before nodding. "I'll tell my parents and you tell yours," he said, bagging the last of Virgil's things and handing them to him.

Patton and Emile had taken the information about as well as Virgil had expected them to.

"Listen to me very carefully Vivi, do not get any ice cream from that truck and dont talk to that man again, Emmy and I will see if we can get someone to investigate the situation," Patton had his hands on Virgil's shoulders, the batter they'd been mixing completely forgotten in the background.

This worked out well, for about a week or so. It was a sunny Friday, there were birds resting on the roof of the store. Virgil had just finished ringing up when the truck pulled up.

"Virgil?" Remus said, there was a tone of urgency in his voice.

"Remus? Is something wrong?" Remus didnt say anything, merely held up a vial of reddish black liquid with a skull etched into the glass, and slipped it into Virgil's pocket.

"Run," was all Remus said before he shoved Virgil toward the door.

Virgil hadnt quite gotten the clue until he was outside, and until he noticed the man hadnt stopped his truck until after he'd gotten outside. Virgil took off almost as soon as the door opened. Heart pounding and looking in all directions, hoping to find a way to confuse the man.

Virgil turned a corner, thinking it would lead back into the neighborhood, but instead he was faced with a wall. He jumped up on one of the trash cans on the side of the alley and attempted to grab hold of something nearby he could use to hoist himself onto the top of the wall. But just as he got into the air he felt something grab onto his leg. He tried struggling his way out, kicking and screaming and trying to free his arms to bash his attacker in the eyes. But the man was much stronger than Virgil was. Virgil felt something cold against his mouth, ice cream, the cotton candy flavor he'd mentioned before. He closed his mouth tighter, but he'd already managed to get a taste of it during one of the screaming matches. He felt drowsy, and then everything went blurry as he was thrown into the back of the truck. It was cold, to cold, he tried to stay awake, tried to find a window that he could climb out of, but he couldnt move anything. He heard three words before he went completely unconscious.

Alongside the flash of a symbol he recognized from Mr. Black's work assignments, "Tag, You're It,"

And then everything was dark.

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Tag list:

@meowthefluffy

@youtuberswithalex

@faycanyons

@melodiread

@thefivecalls

@luna--28

@sleepless-emo

@deathcanbegreat

@spooky-scary-virgil

@boobmaster69

@thecolorfulolive

@maryann-draws

@frog-candy-bee

[lumiereswig]

Please do the ENTIRETY of Forgotten! Hahaha I’m joking, pick your favorite part because that fic is v long 😍

happily, this gonna get l o n g

“The ball was flawless. In the garden, the roses continued to reach to the sky, and the storm brushed away; the lights shut off in the palace, one by one, and the music faded to silence. The prince went to bed with one or two or three pretty women he wouldn’t care for by the next day. Up in his room, Lumiere popped open a bottle of champagne.”

I set the opening to take place almost immediately after “Lit By The Sun,” though this time showing the evening Lumiere and Plumette never got—the stolen croquembouche up in their bedroom, the sharing of champagne among the servants. In the original timeline, obvs they didn’t get that—they got fire and feathers instead—but yeah. I am totally alluding to my own goddamn fics.

Plumette, lighting the candles by the bed, grinned at him over the flames. He laughed and raised his glass.

It’s not a lumiereswig post if there’s not a fucking fire reference.

“He’s turning just like his father—the prince’s father was like this, too,” Mrs. Potts explains to the musicians, who know nothing about the palace or its politics. They nod and move closer to each other on the bed. “We don’t know what he’d do without us. He’ll be fine, though; we try not to intervene. D’you only have wine up here, Lumiere? I could use a cup of tea.”

Foreshadowing of future bullshit, and also reminding the readers that Garderobe and Cadenza WERE NOT PART OF THIS PALACE-POLITICS SHIT. They did not deserve to be cursed!! fuck you agathe!!!! #justiceforgarderenza2k18

“If you cannot take a little sparkling wine, get yourself to bed, grandmother,” laughs Lumiere, and she swipes at his arms and makes him laugh. He eases into a seat between Cogsworth and Plumette and throws his arms around them.

Really trying to remind everyone how fucking close the staff is. The fam. Also, fuck you bill condon for not letting lumiere hug cogsworth every .3 seconds

“Think how long it has been!” he says. “Forty years for you, Cogsworth, but most of my life for mine. Why, I came here as a teenager—imagine me, only a little older than Chip! Fresh out of Paris and still reeking of the apothecary shop.” He grimaces, thinking of his father’s dusty store in a side-street of the city. He had fled, then, looking for the glamor his missed; in his room in Paris he had practiced dance steps, reveled in fashion, adopted the graceful movements of the court as rebellion against the bourgeois facts of an ordinary existence. He had come to this palace, and he had lit into life; dancing and feasting and glowing like gold made Lumiere’s heart sing.

EYYYY IT’S A HEADCANON I TOTALLY MADE UP

but tbh it makes sense to me (and has always made sense to me) that for all his glamor-gold, courtiers-and-candelabras bullshit, lumiere is not from an upper crust background. he’s too extra to have been born to it. That level of golden eyeliner and tequila has to be aspired to.

“We met in this palace, do you remember, mon trésor?” Plumette is close in his arms; her scent—fresh and light, like candy and macarons—right beside him. “I was only fourteen, and I loved you right away.”

“I loved you before I met you,” murmurs Lumiere. “I could never forget.”

Lots more foreshadowing, and also backshadowing. Gotta remind the idiots in the audience which motherfuckers in this story are in love.

The next day is their day off. It is their one day off in the year.

honestly this makes no sense (one day off a year???) but it’s adam. pre-curse adam. i can write him to get away with pretty much any bullshit and be like “””*shrug* uhhh he’s a beast, dudes, of course he banned puppies and kittens from the palace and hates daisies and sunshine”“

also tbh i hate the whole adam dialogue sequence, it’s really badly written

Adam stands in the lonely, empty halls. If he stands in the tower, he can see them weaving their way through the forest and down to the village, to spend their day in the company of each other, in Lumiere and Plumette’s case, or with loved ones, in the case of Mrs. Potts. No matter what, all the servants have each other. And Adam has nobody.

casual evermore references whenever we can’t get in a flame pun

….after all, at least when he yelled they looked at him.

someone told me this line broke them and i am forever pleased. yes mofos!!! relish my very slipshod, mostly shite grasp of the english language!!!!! revel in my poor grasp of human psychology!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Lumiere! The night grows old.”

 The crone grows young.

to make up for the shit in the previous chapter, I really enjoy this bit. the whole bashing-between-the-palace-and-the-village nonsense just makes me happy.

Belle wakes up to a jolt in the road, and the rough wool blanket on her face, and the smell of cheese and paint and horse and wind clinging to her skin. She rubs her eyes and tries to wipe away the sleep. They’re in the wagon, again, and Maurice is hunched up in the bench, encouraging Philippe to trot faster. The contents of Belle’s entire life are jammed in around her, a moving nest of drawings and gear-boxes and packets of cabbage-seed.

aaand we’re with belle. I had to rewrite this chapter about five million times because it wasn’t working—I had planned it out too much in advance, you know, and was just like regurgitating the writing rather than writing it—but I’m happy with the textural detail of this bit. Again, sometimes it pays to use the words around what you’re going for rather than the literal sensation; in this case, cheese and paint and horse and wind, and that rough wool blanket. Home, but also chill, and travel, and being uncomfortable, and the 18th century equivalent of going on a road trip and eating crackers in the backseat while dad’s up front and the crackers making the seat all gritty and reading books in the light of the passing streetlamps, ya feel?

Lilles, Reims, Amiens

i don’t understand french geography

A tiny, delicate gesture from his long fingers; it is a surprisingly sophisticated movement for a man in a yellow peasant’s vest, with candle wax creased in the dirt between his fingernails.

this whole chapter is slightly hard to read because it’s clearly trying too hard, but i hope i got across (or at least, whacked you across the forehead with) the bits i felt were important: lumiere’s current emptiness, but the last imprints of who he ought to be hanging around. i also tend to mention the peasant’s vest too many fucking times, just because the image of lumiere wearing anything that’s not satin & silk is fucking devestating. also, it will be important later, and i need yall to remember that LUMIERE DOESNT LOOK LIKE HE NORMALLY LOOKS

“I am nothing now,” says the man, in a flash of vehemence so sharp it is like seeing a flame in the middle of the forest. He looks up to her—his face broad, and white; and it is an empty face, and beyond the fire in his words there is nothing there at all. It is as if someone washed out all his color, and left him only with his yellow vest.  

you can tell, again, this is a lumiereswig fic because suddenly the language is all about fires and flashing and flickers and flames and there’s probably going to be a reference to the sun fucking setting at some point

also, honestly, this was hard to write because i was seeing it as a fucking movie in my head, and transcribing ‘ewan mcgregor lies on a village stoop looking fucking dismal’ is not what literary writing is made of

He welcomes her to the stoop with the flick of a wrist and a tiny nod with the pipe,

just to remind everyone once a-fucking-gain, Lumiere Is Not Normal, And You Can Tell Because He’s Not Being Very Welcoming. like honestly if you don’t say hello by doing a song and dance what the fuck are you doing

“I knew someone once who treasured books that way as well,” he says, and a smile drifts across his face, homeless. Something in him is sparking up at the story: dim, and faint, but laughing. “He once made me read the whole Odyssey—”

ok yes thank god the fic is finally getting good again

Sorceresses turning people to pigs, and the lily-eaters forgetting their homes, and Penelope undoing the days until her husband returns

ON. THE FUCKING. NOSE

also if i make a literary reference in a fic i am almost 100% of the time trying to make an obvious as fuck connection between the two

Deeply, deeply frightened. Not of the man on the stoop—she has never seen anyone more harmless, to be quite honest; he is such an empty man, with such silent, lifeless limbs—but of the thing inside his eyes when he speaks of his past. It is Other—a thing not rooted in a Parisian background, or the empty face, or the subdued soul. It is a large streak of gray inside the man’s blue eyes, a gray empty and unnatural and as hollow as cold ice. Staring at his eyes, Belle finds herself clutching her arms with fear.

ahhhh fuck subtlty has gone totally out the window. yall are kind and see what i was going for, but i swear this could be better done if i knew shit

It is obvious to Belle that this is a practiced ritual, the sharing of the secret wine.

in retrospect this fic would be sadder if cogsworth or lumiere weren’t friends, but uhh…i just couldnt bring myself to it.

“Oh là là, he acts as if the French accent is difficult,” says Lumiere, puffing smoke….

LIKE YOU CAN SPEAK FRENCH ANYWAY, YOU SCOTTISH DIPSHIT.

“Get off my stoop!” yells the woman. “D’you have wine down there, Lumiere?“

“If you cannot take a little cheap wine, get yourself to bed, grandmother,” calls Lumiere.

and that’s called taking yourself too seriously and referencing your own fic from a few chapters ago

“Mrs. Potts, the crockery-man’s wife,” says Lumiere, and takes a large gulp of the wine. “I barely know her. Thank God.”

PROBABLY THE BEST LINE IN THIS FIC SO FAR. fucking love the simplicity that does so much more than every labored reference to emtpy fucking limbs or colorless eyes beforehands. one simple line and we’re all fucking realizing THE EXTENT OF ALL THIS SHIT

i gotta head off now but i’ll do the rest later tonight

[send me one of my fics (or a bit from a fic) and i’ll do director’s commentary on it—ask here]

[egobangin-tonight]

[missjackil]

My 12X22  Opinion

Who We Are Im going to give this episode a standing ovation! I absolutely LOVED it! This is the kind of episode that made me want to watch it again, immediately after it ended, and I stopped sobbing. This could have stood on its own as a season finale, even without a cliff hanger. We start off in the bunker with Sam, Dean and bitch face Toni trapped with no water, lights, and having the air pumped out. This itself was kind of a silly method of death for the boys, because... well.. how would they not get out? But Im not complaining, I certainly don’t want them to die!  Mary is out and about, brain washed and killy. She just killed a hunter and shes ordered to kill Jody. We all like Jody so even though we know the boys will get out eventually, will it be in time to save Jody? Very good suspense build to start with.  Now the dynamic duo and the Brittish peice of shit, try this weird spell to turn the bunker back on, that needs virgin blood, Just kinda humorous I guess, not really anything I thought would work, but then the boys try to bash their way through a concrete wall. This was awesome! Not only was it incredibly hot to watch them in single layers, all dirty and sweaty, in safety goggles swinging around pick axes, but it turned into a very moving brother moment. Sam takes responsibility for deciding to work with the Britts, and though Id wish he would stop blaming himself for everything, it is kind of one of his charms that I find endearing. He has a great monologue and my favorite part : “Once I was in, I just followed.... because it was easy.... easier” (Dean) “Easier than what?” “Than to lead”

I never blamed Sam for wanting to try. I knew in 12x1 while he was chained to a chair and Toni told them what they do, he’d want to check it out himself. I was sure it would go bad too, but this is Supernatural, and if any pattern is steady, its the boys break it, then they fix it. I was also happy to see that Dean didnt chastise him, blame him for anything or whatnot, he just listened. Then the brother sat there, with the air thinning and Sam’s chest heaving (thank you Chuck) talking about their pending demise. Maybe it wasn’t how they would have wanted it, but they were together. When and if the time comes that they actually do draw their final breaths, they will be together.  Then Dean has the best idea to finally use the grenade launcher... and Sam isn’t even going to try to stop him this time. Toni is telling them theyre lunitics and they could all die if the building collapses on them. Sam and Dean have the BEST exchange of looks, because they dont care. If theyre gonna die, it will be in a blaze of glory, but its also the best bet to get them out.  I really did feel Sam’s anxiety when he went to look for Dean after the blast. His moment of relief when he saw the clearing made around the pipe and then his horror as the concrete collapsed into it. Panic mode yelling for his brother, not giving a shit where Toni is, where the hell is Dean?? Then the air is gone, he cant breathe, and just as he collapses from lack of air, in walks Dean, a little bloody and broken, but he’s ok. “Hey lunitic!” and all the life and love goes back into Sam’s face. (siiigh) Ok so we’re out of the bunker and safe, but now for some reason, Sam has some kind of blood stain on the front of his shirt, and he hasnt been bleeding? Only one bleeding is Dean and I dont know how Sam would get it on his stomach, but you can imagine whatever you want I guess LOL! We head off to Jody and find her safe but she has psycho!Mary tied up. Lets call all the hunters we can think of and take the Britts on ourselves. Of course the dudes that killed them in S5, show up and cant look the brothers in the eyes, but in traditional Winchester fashion, the boys look ;past it to fight for the greater good.  Sam takes control (purrrr) he has a wonderful, humble speech, thats very well worded and not the typical locker-room inspirational speech. He decides to take it on himself and not put any responsibility on Dean, which was odd because Dean wasn’t claiming it was all Sam’s idea anyway, but Sam was more “this ones on me” and for the first time ever, he asks people to follow him, into what might be their final fight.  What transpires after this started me crying and never let me go. Dean encourages Sam to do this without him, even though Sam will take a jacked up Dean Winchester over 10 other hunters any day, Dean supports him, and pridefully tells him he’s got this. He’s ready. And the bro hug Ive been waiting for all season happens!! It was wonderful!! “Cmere.... you come back” Sam :”promise” “Bitch” (Sam chokes back tears) “jerk” and my water works start!  Ive read a lot of you complaining this was too little, too late, or that it was fan service or whatever. I think it was perfect and right in place, even if it was long overdue. And if the powers that be heard the fans bitching about the lack of bromance, and started putting it back, then our work here is done! Now we move on to Dean getting into Mary’s head, while Sam is off fucking shit up over at the base. These scenes between Dean and Mary was some of the best acting Ive seen Jensen do ever. The initial “I hate you” cut me in 2. This, the man Ive watched for 12 seasons pine over his dead mother and longing to have a relationship with her, has now been broken down to hate her. And he tells her whats what, pulling no punches. Yeah dad lived but this is what happened, and gave her the condensed version of how he had too much responsibility put on him to take care of Sam and it wasnt fair because he couldnt do it.... Sam’s life was fucked up and Dean couldnt stop it and he hates her for that. He hates her and he loves her, because shes his mom and he cant help it. <insert shattering heart right here> kind of puts things into perscpective of the brothers’ relationship over the seasons. Times when theyve gotten so mad they hated each other, they always still loved each other. Dean forgives her, and he understands because hes made deals more than once to save Sam’s life, (not Cas’s btw) because he loves him. Sam has hated him for it sometimes, but forgives him, because he cant help but love him. So, Dean wants to start fresh. Im alright with that. Meanwhile, back at the BMOL base, Sam is kicking ass. Sam Fucking Winchester! Where i feel its been off balance with Dean having low kills this season, I am enjoying badass Sam very much. He’s always been badass, but its just leveled up some this season. But I cant believe the old man on the computer called Sam “boy” like whaaaaat??  So Dean gets slammed out of the mind link, to see Toni with her throat slashed (YAAAAAY!!!!) And Ketch ready to kill him... good fight ensues, Mary wakes up, dead Ketch (YAAAY!!) Dean and Mary talk more about starting over and forgivenes, and I THOUGHT I was safe and wouldnt need to cry anymore, but no. Mary is scared, what if Sam cant forgive her? In walks Sam and with the softest, most painful way he could,  says “Mom? You dont have to be scared of me” (I died... omf Sam) Mom hugs Sam... am I safe yet? hell no, Dean touches Sams shoulder “Im glad your back man” and comes in to wrap Sam in his arms AGAIN and Sam’s face is like he’s needed this his entire life and just.... WOW just fucking WOW This was by far the best episode of the season, and to be honest, maybe of the whole series for me. On a scale of Bloodlines to Swan Song, I am gonna say, shockingly, it MIGHT be tied with Swan Song, They’re 2 entirely different kinds of episodes, so I really cant say I loved one better than the other. But Im giving Who We Are a perfect 10! *clap clap clap clap clap* THIS is how you write an episode! Thank you!!