#ficification

[whilmsy]

hello miners and crafters it’s me silly guy back with another scar post <3 this is heavily inspired by and written for the beloved @stiffyck and their double life art of green scar meeting himself as a red life! i am very normal about him <3

-

In a dream-like world, Scar awakens. It’s nothing dramatic: a soft huff of the exhale that leaves his lips, feeling distant and there all the same. There is no fear, no dread; what there is, is a forest.

Trees wind and loom above him, adding to the unsettling feeling that sits heavy in his chest as the night stretches far and wide in the sky above. The moon is small. It’s obvious that something or someone had passed through earlier, because there are tracks that mark the ground, both horse and human. Quietly, with a frown on his face and a furrow of eyebrows, Scar glances at the world around him. It doesn’t take him any time at all to know that he’s never seen this place before.

A cold dread crawls down his spine, he feels watched.

Maybe it’s a prank? The thought comes suddenly as soon as he realises his heart starts beating a little faster, as if trying to keep himself from panicking makes him panic more. It has to be a prank, it has to be; but Scar looks down, and he doesn’t remember ever wearing something like this.

The outfit he wears is… well, it seems like something he would wear - he guesses so, anyway. It’s a cream coloured shirt that’s buttoned up and a green bandana tied up on his right arm, dark cargo pants and a satchel that crosses over from his left shoulder and rests against his hip.

Weird, he muses, but not the worst thing that’s happened to him.

Then, Scar looks back up again, and someone else stands in front of him, leaning against a tree.

They look eerily familiar, too familiar.

Green eyes meet red eyes, and Scar realises this:

They look familiar because it’s him.

He doesn’t know if seeing himself from another perspective is better or worse.

It couldn’t be easier to know it was him, he’s seen his reflection enough times to know that it is. But as the figure takes slow steps forward, something akin to dread grabs his heart and squeezes it. For a moment as he watches, Scar thinks his heart stops in his chest. This version of himself has vibrant red eyes that gleam with a familiar sense of losing control and giving in to the blood-shed, and that makes him feel cautious; he’s never seen himself as red, but Scar knows what his mind is like when he is red.

This version of himself grins in a way that makes Scar feel a prickle of danger and he finally understands what other players of these games mean when they talk about him being unhinged as soon as he hits red. This red eyed image of himself is paler, wearing a black shirt that stays unbuttoned (Scar is not, at all, surprised by this) with a red heart embroidered on the front (a warning and foolishly brave: a warning of red and bloodshed, foolish in a cry of I can die at any given moment), and darker pants. The boots they both wear are the same, although his red state has boots that are stained with ash, dirt and blood.

And as they move closer, Scar feels that cold dread turn into an icy fear when he notices more about the person walking towards him.

His red life is covered in old cuts and bandages that look useless with the way they wrap too tightly around his arms, hands and neck, and he prays silently that he doesn’t know what they’re for. (Scar can see the faint bite marks on his red self’s neck as they cock their head to the side. His attempt at remaining calm ends with him feeling grief, and he knows that anguish is soon to flood his every thought.) There are new explosion scars, he notices silently, and he dreads it. His four ears are torn and cut at the edges, he dreads that too; they’re something he’s prideful of, he thinks he wants to cry just seeing it on this version of himself.

This version of himself looks dead, and Scar didn’t realise he could ever feel more scared of himself than he is in this moment. Sure, he’s had those red thoughts that stick around when the games are over, and it’s a little scary, but actually seeing himself as the thing he’s so numb to when it actually happens is… he thinks he’s allowed to be scared, in a way.

Scar has never seen what he’s like as a red, he’s lived it; there’s a difference. The difference is that you lose yourself, you lose who you are and you feel numb and the only time you remember really, truly, feeling absolute heart soaring joy is when there is blood on your hands and you are the one spilling it.

“Yeah,” the red life says - bringing him back from his thoughts - as if Scar’s panic is something they were waiting for, “you’ll get used to it eventually.” It sounds exhausted in a way, that sense of having given up long ago.

Scar doesn’t like it.

“No, I don’t-”

“Don’t what?” They bite back, emotionless. “Nothing you think to do will change this. It’ll happen either way.” The figure laughs hauntingly, unhinged. “You’ll still die, and Grian will still scream at you like that’ll do something to help.”

They both know the red life said the wrong thing with the way they grimace, with the way the tension drains and yet grows back stronger.

“…Grian’s with us?..” There is a shocked tone to the question, hopeful, and the man with the green bandana wrapped around his arm watches in real time as his red life’s expression grows from apathetic and into something more angry.

“It would’ve been better if he wasn’t. He barely sticks around anyway.” The red life sounds bitter and so incredibly sad and it all gets balled up into one emotion: anger. Their hands - bitten and scratched and covered in bandages - curl up into fists. “It would’ve been so much better if he didn’t just drag us along with him.”

Scar seems to shrink in on himself for a moment before remembering, again, that this is him. Softer, gentler, he says, “Maybe he was just scared,” because he knows that’s probably true. He knows that people react differently in different situations, has teamed up with Grian before; he knows Grian.

There is a huff of frustration from in front of him, and in a sudden sense of panic, Scar takes a step back; he has no idea where he is, and yet he wants to run from this blood thirsty version of himself very, very suddenly.

A hand grasping his left arm tightly dismisses that idea very, very quickly.

“Grian doesn’t care.” The red life version of himself hisses spitefully, says every word slowly - makes sure to drive home the idea of that sentence. There is an underlying sense of pain in their tone. Scar slowly feels the blood flow to his hand lessening. “I bet you that right now he’s off frolicking with that secret soulmate of his.” It doesn’t make any sense to him. His mirror image grimaces, eyes shining dangerously; Scar doesn’t know if it’s bloodlust or tears. “Grian doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t care about me. He doesn’t care about us.” Quieter, as if like a flame that is put out but keeps the remains still painfully warm, the red name says, “Grian only stays when it’s an obligation. They all do.”

Despite the fact that it rings true in his mind, Scar still knows it isn’t entirely true, isn’t numbed by an apathetic, blood-lusting red, but it still feels bitterly like denial. He says, “No-”

“You really think so?” The other version of himself asks, gripping Scar’s arm tighter when he tries pulling it away. “What about the first game?” desert sand and a home built from sandstone, trying and failing to avoid heatstroke, “The second one?” snow-capped mountains that echoed lonely lonely lonely, an enchanter and his lives being his best bet for someone to show up. “In one, Grian stayed because he killed you on accident. In the other, he couldn’t care less. He said it himself: The past doesn’t matter. He won’t bother to stick around if he doesn’t owe you something. Don’t get your hopes up for something that never lasts. It won’t be your gifts that he cherishes, but I think we both know that.”

Scar thinks of lilacs and poppies and he thinks yes he would, he would cherish them, he does- he did, he did he did he did he did. But then he thinks of that second game, of how Grian couldn't wait to take his life and flee with it. He doesn't like this.

There is something so painfully understanding in his reflection’s reaction, something that Scar both craves and hates, because it’s pity; as much as Scar wants to be understood and cared for, it hurts that it’s himself that’s being the person to do it. In a softer, pain-filled tone, as they move their head closer to his ear - still gripping his arm, although he’d already given up on trying to free himself from the red - they ask, “You see it now, don't you?”

Scar doesn’t give a verbal or physical response, frozen.

A moment of respite, the seconds of silence feel like everything and nothing; too much and yet too little. It feels weirdly like dissociating: his head empty of any thought or emotion he knows he should be feeling, despite knowing he feels weirdly numb and not all there. Maybe he is, just for a moment. He doesn’t yet realise that the hand gripping his arm tightly in place let's go, the blood flowing properly again and his hand looking more like his.

Those are his excuses for being the reason why he asks, “Do we have friends this time?” He hopes that neither of them can hear the longing in his tone, hopes that they both ignore how naive the question is.

“…We have some allies.” There is an obvious lie in the answer, they’re lying about something; what exactly, Scar isn’t sure of. It’s not a proper answer, not even a yes, and that makes the gaping void in his chest called loneliness grow larger, agonisingly slowly.

Scar laughs bitterly. “Better than last time.” Better than nothing stays unsaid. The red life in front of him echoes that same laughter, nodding in agreement. They seem to want to say something.

“You could put it that way, but… we did have someone. I think we did. I hope so, otherwise we really need to learn how allies and friends work.” They move back slightly, not taking a large step, but they move back enough that Scar doesn’t feel like he’s cornered anymore.

He doesn’t say anything in response, and so they keep talking, it’s the furthest away from that red apathy that they’ve seemed the entire time, and slowly that fear of his red self lessens. “It’s Pearl,” they say simply, soft in a way Scar knows he is when he’s red; when it’s a gentle care about llama’s and bee’s - about the little things that are so absolutely useless in the world where you fight for your life, but so important to him because it gives him that sense of comfort. “She…she’s a good friend.”

There isn’t much information to go off, but he guesses that it makes sense in the bigger picture - probably not the best to know how everything goes before it starts, it might just cause more problems than what has, probably, already been set in stone. Vaguely, Scar tries to argue with his own thoughts; surely this can’t be real, right? This is some sort of sick dream that his mind has made up just for him. Surely this is a sad, sad hell of his own creation.

Distrustful, marked by the previous game like a shattered glass-stained window, Scar asks, “She doesn’t betray us?” Because it is so, so hard to believe it’s true. Above them, the night is slowly beginning to fade into dawn.

“You believe me anyway,” the red life answers knowingly, and the expression on their face says it all; the glint in their red eyes has faded to a softer, calmer glimmer. They continue speaking. “We both know how bad we want it, and it’s hard to believe it, but….even when Grian doesn’t want us around, Pearl does, even if she’s a bit unpredictable - so are we.” Scar knows that tone, knows the way his heart aches when he’s left behind, knows the way his heart soared when they left that world behind; he knows the tone that they speak in, and it’s something in between those two emotions.

Of being left behind, but not being entirely alone.

The smile on his red self’s face seems to fade entirely again, leaving a more.. calmer expression; sad, but at peace with it. Guilty, almost. “I’m sorry you have to find out this way,” they say smoothly as the sun continues rising through the trees, and the way they say have instead of had settles wrongly on his skin. Because Scar doesn’t want to learn this. He wants to wake up from this dream-like world. Wants to wake up from this nightmare and start his day shakily and work so hard on building that he doesn’t have to remember this dream. “But,” they continue, and Scar hopes they don’t realise how trapped in his own thoughts he is, “the only time Grian cares is when it keeps him alive.”

There is a second of silence, there are hands pulling him closer and for the first time since he’s been here, Scar doesn’t flinch when the red version of himself pulls him close and-

And hugs him. They pull him in, arms cradling him close as if to hold him together - a way Scar likes to be hugged, because it’s grounding, a pressure. They hug him, and the sun shines brightly in his eyes, and they say, “I’m sorry that you’ll see it soon enough.”

And-

And the world changes.

There is a pressure holding him close, and then there is nothingness. The trees of the forest he was in, in that dream world, are gone, and Scar hates to admit that his breath is shaky and stuttering at the sudden change when he opens his eyes.

He misses that warmth, even if that version was deader than him, he misses that hug. Which is… embarrassing to think of, because that was a version of himself that hugged him and it’s this whole thing then, and-

And there’s a green bandana on his arm, and a satchel by his waist and-

“Scar?”

And there is a mark on his forearm, where he was grabbed and it still tingles, similar to pins and needles-

“Scar? Hello? Anyone in there?”

His gaze finally breaks from staring at the handprint left of his arm, forcing himself to stop analysing the faint red mark left behind and forcing his gaze up and-

It’s Pearl.

Of course it would be Pearl.

Something makes him feel sick to his stomach, something foreboding and knowing.

“Well, hello there!” Scar says cheerily, a forced smile on his face and his eyes tightly shut in an attempt to really pull off the act. He looks at Pearl, and he realises that it’s not just the two of them.

There are more people, an even number of people that have been in previous games. He looks at Grian, Grian looks at him, and Scar hopes he doesn’t break eye contact too quickly.

The excited conversations fade to silence as Pearl asks him something again, but he can’t hear what she’s saying when he’s too caught up in the idea that everyone is looking at him, and he doesn't like the familiar sense of being watched.

His heart beats hurriedly, thumping much too fast for him, and he pretends that he’s still listening to whatever Pearl is saying.

“Hm? Oh! I’m fine.” Scar replies to a question he doesn’t properly hear, showing too much teeth in a too strained grin. Fake, Fake, Fake. There is a ghost of a hand that tightens around his arm, he pushes through. “Excited to see where this game goes!” He’s so quick to fall into that familiar act, that scheme, that teasing, that unpredictability. “Jimmy, it will be nice knowing you.” He says mournfully, teasing.

“Excuse me?!” Jimmy shouts, falling right into Scar’s easily planned trap; Scar laughs loudly, and everyone else joins in as he attempts to argue back. It’s easy to fall into that, something they all know, something to change what they’re focusing on.

He knows Pearl’s still looking at him, knows that Grian is still looking at him; but as long as the mask stays on, no one needs to know.

And soon enough, when a Warden shrieks and his last shared life shatters as his ears ring dangerously loudly, Scar drops from his horse, and he’s too exhausted to cry when he realises the forest he’s in where his last life fades from him is painfully familiar. It’s funny that he wasn’t the reason that they lost their last life, that he didn’t die from heartbreak.

[clinchcoverenthusiast]

So I was reading reviews today to justify a DNF as one does and someone said they didn't know what to do with a book written in third person POV, which is so weird to me. I'm sure this is more recent fic related because I remember when people hated first person fics.

It's even weirder to me when people say they want only the first person POV of one character *in a romance* because they want the non-POV person's thoughts to be a mystery. It's strange to me to not want to know what both/all the characters are thinking and feeling on the way to that HEA/HFN.

[mejcinta]

SARA HESS AND THE FAN-FICIFICATION OF HOUSE OF THE DRAGON.

Getting in on the discourse. Like this YT comment under the video shows, hotd is failing because of the writer(s) skill issues: I mean, Ryan and Sara...and even Miguel refuse to see how events they change have a Butterfly effect on the story and thus odd issues rear their heads and make a mess of everything e.g leaving Laenor alive was shoddily abandoned and left unexplored, Harrold Westerling was left alive too and never brought back in s2, Maelor’s absence means no punching motivation for Helaena, Aegon and Daeron, cutting Nettles means Daemon and Rhaenyra’s separation won’t pack a punch and Targaryen exceptionalism never effectively explored through the most underprivileged class and SEX in Westeros, Rhaenyra and Alicent’s friendship waters down the seriousness of the war their love for their descendants etc).

[interact-if]

hello! a little while ago i found a ficif about an ex-military mc (called specialist) who acts as a body guard to a girl who’s attending a boarding school of sorts. there’s a few ros as well one of which was the girls parent whos reently joined a council i think. the mc is no longer in the military bc there was an incident during their last mission. i lost track of it and haven’t been able to find it since.

any help would be greatly appreciated!

Hi Anon

You might be looking for Honor Bound by @hpowellsmith. You can find the WIP thread here (on dashingdon and itch.io).

[chronicas]

I need Zack to like immediately beef it in FFVIIR2. He shouldn’t be here. Shoving him back into the grave. STAY DEAD. I love you and I miss you but STAY DEAD BITCH YOU HAVE TO KEEP HAUNTING THE NARRATIVE. I hate you fix-it-ficification of FFVII.

[so-what-then]

I've got mixed feelings on Booktok. On the one hand it's an outgrowth of the YA-ification and fan-ficification of literature, for those who still want the trappings of YA but more spicy and less hindered by political correctness (i.e. indulging in "problematic" stuff that gets you canceled in purely YA circles on Twitter). As such it encourages the same kind off brainrot and shoddy writing.

On the other hand these are the only people who read books anymore🤷

[lurkofyourlife]

if they both have name the clear ficification of a dbd char will be so obvious lmao

Should basement story have the character's names as written, or do I strip their identities down to simple pronouns and non-name-specific nicknames? Cause you bet your ass these chars have full names and backstories, but do we share that, or do we simply allow readers to self insert as either side, here?

[asra-nicky-miguel-wife]

"I can fix him"

Also him:

[silly-little-soul]

Hi! Hope you're having a good day/night! I'd like to ask for HCs (or whatever format you're cool with!) for Casimir, maybe something just like how he would spend the day with MC when they're not working on the House?

Romantic is fine! I hope that's not too vague of a request! Thanks! :)

A/N - Hey, I’m so sorry for the wait I finished this weeks ago but forgot about it I’m sorry ;-; hope you enjoy! (Also thank you really much for being my first Tumblr request)

(I’ll fix the format of this post when I have my laptop later today)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fandom: Fictif, Monster Manor

Format: headcanons

Type: Fluff, a bit comedy

Warnings: none I can think of

Summary: spending time with Casimir

Relationship: Casimir x Reader (Written as romantic but save for like one all work platonically)

Characters featured: Casimir, briefly Mimi and the house, Rainier mentioned

Note: maybe OOC, some of these are kind of far fetched (Also I didn't read any of the paid scenes so I’m sorry if I got something canon wrong)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Renovating is pretty exhausting so of course a lot of work means a lot of rest. There's many ways to do so such as sitting down with some tea and snacks, reading together or to each other, cuddling or watching movies; either way you spend this time together quite often 

speaking of movies, movie and show nights! At first at least there might be more of Casimir nerding over the technology than watching though /hj. Someone just please show this man the Beauty and the Beast. Or Transformers. First one is self explanatory, second one I just think would be funny. Also maybe Howls moving castle. That might be super far fetched but I think he'd like studio Ghibli. 

Bonding with Mimi! Casimir really wants to gain back her trust and having you be there calms him Mimi. Though it's better than it used to be already there's still some tension between them and you're definitely helping. You also get to spend time with both of them so that's definitely a win!

You cannot convince me this man doesn't go into hour long rants and rambles about his interests after you asked one simple question. He can get pretty lost in it once he started and tends to get a little embarrassed about it once he realises. Cmon, he was all by himself for multiple centuries, he's not used to people being around. You encouraging him to go on, asking questions or referencing things he told you later on means a lot to him. 

Of course it goes both ways, he absolutely loves listening to you talk, especially about things you're passionate about and will try to bring it up again later or engage in your hobbies with you together. He genuinely wants to know about you and your interests, for one he hasn't really heard from/about anyone else for a very long time (not counting cats and buildings) and also you're, of course he wants to hear everything you have to say

Okay okay okay this one's my personal favourite: hide and seek.​ I actually might write a whole own thing about that at some point soon because it'd just be so much fun!​ The house is quite big with super many hiding spaces. Now it's not something he'd suggest and yeah it might take some force persuasion to convince him but if you ask him really really nicely hell probably say yes, or just annoy him till he agrees (even more effective if Rainier joins). Alternatively just hide somewhere so he has no choice but to search (you definitely gave him a heart attack the first time you did that)

Casimir is old fashioned (I mean- how wouldn't he be) so your regular date nights are pretty classic. Usually it's a romantic dinner (brought to you by The House TM), sometimes it's dancing (like that one paid scene(? Is there one? Or am I mixing something up? Idk); he was taught to be a gentleman and he's gonna use that /hj

Bringing him modern things from shopping trips. It started off by you bringing him something he was curious about after you mentioned it and quickly developed into a habit of you bringing him trinkets whenever you're out. His curiosity makes you much more aware of how interesting even little thins can be and soon turned to you coming back from trips out the house with a bag of things like toys, gadgets and other fun things from the dollar store or similar. You then spend the day looking at what you brought, how it works and so on. Imagine spending the day with Casimir trying out a bunch of toys you bought or found with your old stuff (the type for children, don't think wrong here)

adding onto this because I love the idea of doing fun childish things with him (you'd have to be the one to initiate them though, potentially ‘force’ him, but he secretly enjoys it). Silly sleepovers with pillow forts, movies, teeny magazines (I want to just hand this guy a stack of these teen magazines and see what happens so bad), and snacks! 

related a bit to the one above but spa days! He definitely needs some more self care. I do kinda think he likes stuff as skincare and and used to have a routine (nobility and stuff) he likely had to cut short or even drop it completely with the house's hostility. But now you're there and not only are there so many products your world has for this, it's also much more fun together, leading to entire days planned only for spa and wellness activities (like doing each other's nails, I have a little theory connected to Casimir and acrylic nails but that's all I'm saying on that)

I feel like I have to say something to end this smoothly sooo Casimir supremacy!!

(Requests open)

[sweet-milky-tea705]

Ready to rock !! 🎸🎸

[whilmsy]

nothing bad ever happens to tcd!mumbo (lie)

Hello miners and crafters welcome back to another episode of I Cannot Stop Thinking About TCD and I now blame @stiffyck for this because of their incredible askers (@buzzybeeboi thank you but also i blame you too, thank you for starting this au i’m very normal (lie) about it /pos) for making a very beloved au where Mumbo has been thrown into TCD and gets to witness Scar’s past before joining hermitcraft (there is more to the rambles than just this, and the incredible @5ievel-w-c-q is the very person - blame them for the dialogue used as he started it <3 /lh)

It’s ironic, really, that the one that's technically already undead is the one that gets bitten. It couldn’t be any more ironic.

The scene still replays in Scar’s head: the world going slow and yet moving faster than he could ever run. Teeth sinking into skin, the thought of I’m too late ripping his hopes and dreams apart, his brother in everything but blood showing him that love still existed in this god forsaken world being the one that’s taken.

Mumbo calls his name, he tries not to think about how he told him it.

‘Scar. I forgot my name, so I just named myself after my favourite gun.’

He’s starting to hate the weapon, hands trembling as he aims it at the floor and attempts to remember how to turn the safety on after so, so long.

Mumbo’s hold on the gun doesn’t go unnoticed; he could take it from Scar’s trembling hands and shoot him with it. Scar would let him.

“No!” His voice betrays him, weak and broken and everything he told himself he wouldn’t be in the beginning. “You’ll be fine, you’re-” In the beginning you learn not to make promises, you learn to give up on the little things, because nothing good survives here; it’s why he’s still living. “We don’t know Mumbo, you could be fine. You’re not human! Maybe you’re immune!”

He hasn’t felt so childish in so long, hasn’t tried to be naive like this in a long, long time.

Mumbo hasn’t let go of the gun, he doesn’t stop staring him down like this is a contest.

Scar would live through breaking his leg over a hundred times if it meant he’d never have to live this moment.

“Please. Scar, we know what happens.” They both do, Scar taught Mumbo about it just like Mumbo taught him about vampires. “I don’t want to hurt you.” The recent scar marking his face stings.

You didn’t mean it, he thinks, clenching his jaw and trying to stop the way his chest feels tight, you were protecting me and I didn’t stay out of the way.

“You can’t just leave me.” Scar begs, foolish and young and yet never regretting letting another person into his life. It was all going so well- it’s not fair. “I’m not going to- I won’t. We said we’d get out of here. Together.” I will let you kill me if it means I do not have to, I will drop this weapon and I will finally give up. If it means I don’t have to be alone, I will give up.

He is tired of loneliness, is tired of this world and the struggle to live in it; and when he was, Mumbo offered comfort. He cannot lose it.

His hands keep shaking, Mumbo doesn’t let go of the gun.

“I’m sorry.” Mumbo says, and it says everything it needs to and nothing at all, and Scar wonders, choking on his own sobs, if this is what heartbreak feels like.

Mumbo guides the weapon back towards himself, it’s steadier with his brother’s hand holding the barrel of the gun on top of Scar’s own that’s not at the handle of it. Mumbo’s hand is warm, but it’s cold in a way; comforting. Even through the choked tears, held back with bitten lips and heaving breaths, the sound of the safety clicking off echoes like it’s in a theatre.

Normally, Scar aims at the head. This time he can’t, because he knows that wouldn’t help his brother. That would not give him peace. With a heaving breath and a barely held back whimper, he aims the gun at his brother’s heart; he is glad Mumbo is holding it with him, because the tears in his eyes blur his vision.

Mumbo takes a breath that sounds as shaky as Scar feels, and he tries not to think about final breaths. Mumbo closes his eyes, and finally, Scar lets the barely-there facade fall. Mumbo is trusting him to do this; is asking him to so they don’t have to find out if vampires can die any further the hard way.

When you love someone, sometimes you have to let them go, and Scar wonders if pretending to hate his brother will let him feel nothing again.

He can’t bring himself to look, trusting that Mumbo will help keep him steady one last time as he shuts his eyes and pulls the trigger.

[hallow-moons]

Rime and Felix sleeping in bed

Rime: *muttering the lyrics to Jolene by Dolly Parton*

*wakes up*

Felix, YOU STUPID IDIOT!!

*beats Felix with a pillow*

Felix: HEY HEY HEY! What in the hells is wrong with you!?

Rime: You've been cheating on me! Don't you try to lie! I just saw it with my own eyes!

Felix: Are you mental?? There's nobody here!

Rime: Don't give me that! Where are they!? I just sat there and watched you for the last 15 minutes!

Felix: Rime, we've asleep for the last 4 hours!

Rime: ...Wait, wait, wait... Was I dreaming?

Felix: You must be if you think I can do something like that in 15 minutes!

Rime: I don't care if I dreamed about it! I f I dreamed it then there must be some level of truth to it!

Felix: Rime, I love you, but godsdamn you're pot of tea didn't get done steeping. *goes back to sleep*

[dreamtydraw]

Decided to try to Édit my MC Aurore ( they/them ) in the Roadkill style thanks to that one Tess's sprite

I Am too lazy to try to make more détails but tada ✨

[the-multi-fandom-trash]

I was about to pick Felix in Last Legacy but Sage reminds me Itto…

I never got Itto.

So if I don’t get Itto— Sage; hi baby

[insertdragonpun]

Ads for web novels be like: either two equally ridiculous options that make absolutely no sense or two options where the right answer is obviously clear and framing both as extremely hard decisions.

Actual web novels: you have the choice of comforting and being compassionate to the love interest after a dark secret was just revealed so you can progress your relationship with them and get all of those good feels... ooooor you can be a little shit with one characters who is your absolute gave and you would date if you could but not for the romance or the story but purely because you want to see what bullshit you can get into with them.

That is the real dilemma in web novels.

No seriously I sat staring at my phone for like ten minutes because I couldn't decide between being a decent human being or a little shit.

[shern-illustrates]

“yous just gonna stand there or are ya gonna join me toots?”

hi im back wit moer nicky conten :)