#hc: history

[vastiitas]

Talk to me abt ur muse's experience w natural disasters

[zephyrchama]

Asmodeus likes to wear his favorite things.

MC is one of Asmodeus' favorite things.

Asmodeus picks MC up one day and drapes them around his neck like a feather boa. The ultimate accessory that pairs with every outfit. The two walk around like this for five minutes or so, until MC gets too uncomfortable.

This has the unfortunate side effect of causing demons across the realm to don human skin scarves for a while. Asmodeus apologizes to MC profusely and will only do this at home anymore.

[lucyvelvett001]

Would you let me suck you on the first date?

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[bingqiuhateabortion]

The way thousand statues cave scene gets such vastly different reactions and gets interpreted from every different vievpoint is kind of fascinating. My friend told me it was funny af and i've seen people say it was really creepy (iykyk that's why i'm writing this post now) but for me it was just really, really, really damn sad?? Maybe I relate to HC way too much but just imagine two people who you mutually hate and who also have biased opinions towards you and the person you love the most finding your deepest darkest secret you lowkey are ashamed of yourself. The two bitches you despise do everything they can to alienate and turn your crush against you and there's nothing in your power you can do not to make the situation worse than it already is. THAT's fucking horror not a guy having a weird but harmless hobby which he engages in mind you to cope with trauma and eternity of loneliness. And you really thought he's the bad guy bc he was "acting weird" huh

[justaz]

arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

[melodymonaei]

Reblog if you want to get a video from me ❤️😍💞 trans love.

[pumpkster]

jumpscare

[ID: A cartoon drawing of Slimecicle and Juanaflippa, she's on Slime's arms as she has a blank stare at his shoulder, her body is loose as Slime has one hand on the top of her head (the other arm holding her by the side of her torso) he has a disturbed / scared / shocked expression, looking up, not at her, his brows furrowed, his pupils are unfocused. There's blood that has the color of a TV glitch, it's coming from Juana's head, and is on Slime's hand, that is holding her close to him. The TV glitch colours are on Juana's pupils as well. Juana has a human appareance, brown hair tied in 2 pigtails, she has glasses, a yellow t-shirt, a red shirt under, she has some dark green shoes, combining with a skirt of the same color, white baggy socks. She has red horns, wings and tail dragon-like. The background is black, a TV-static texture coming from Slime's head. There are 2 lines resembling their heart's pulse, first one is white, it's from Slime, its a quick one, going up and down, agitated, and the second is from Flippa, a pink line with no sign of life. The drawing is a reference to a painting called "Ivan the Terrible and his son Ivan". ]

[radioactive-earthshine]

NGL I have STRONG opinions about digital releases omitting the letters to the editor section of older comics. I feel like the letters are a part of comic history and should be aggressively preserved.

[hiraethsloft]

Many Voices Google Drive

Hello greater internet, specifically the plural/multiple side. We watched a presentation ages ago (you can find it here) about a brief history of DID and plural experiences by the great LB Lee (if you haven't already, check out their Dreamwidth, it's chalked full of great info and musing from a fellow multi). In it, they mentioned a MPD/DID magazine from the 90s called Many Voices.

So we took a look.

When we say we were floored by the content in this zine, I am understating by a wide margin. These digitized zines are like a plural history gold mine (if you want a real gold mine, lemme know and I'll make a post about The Archive as I affectionately call it). Here's the link to Many Voices' official website - the actual PDFs of the zine are under "Newsletter" (for each zine's specific TWs -> Subject Index - they're highly specific as well, so no need for guesswork). The website covers the entire history of the magazine and its founder, Lynn Wasnak, who was a plural from Ohio, USA. Since Lynn's passing, the site is owned and run by the ISST-D in perpetuity. We would highly recommend surfing through the entire catalog, it is one of the most navigable archive we've come across.

However, we did note that the format for the newsletters aren't formatted in the most accessible way (links to each PDF via month, all in separate documents), so we decided to compile them into one Google Drive Folder! Each PDF is sectioned by year in chronological order (Feb -> April -> June, etc). Please mind that we did all of this in the middle of the night so there may be some errors in the format. If you notice any, feel free to dm us or leave a comment.

We hope that this can introduce y'all to an exceptional piece of plural/multi history. Take care!

(Note: the final PDF, Many Voices 2012, consists of issues from Feb-Jun due to Lynn's deteriorating health and eventual passing in 2013)

[yandere-daydreams]

do u have a picture for us not following twisted wonderland so we can nitpick

here's all two frames we got of him in the event teaser, and i'm begging you to believe me when i say that it's literally All We Have so far T-T i've seen rumors that he might have orange eyes and they might be keeping the name jack skellington, but so far it's pretty much just conjecture.

there's already been an event that takes place in spirit realm/afterlife/literally just hell, so my personal prediction is that there's either fae-adjacent realm magic involved or they're literally just going to keep the 'doorway portals to different worlds' thing from the original movie. either way i am filled with enthusiasm and can't wait to see how kalim in specific saves christmas.

[vastiitas]

Runaway Turned Thief, His First Horse, and its Consequences.

Cole's first horse after the razing of his hometown is a dark bay no-spot appaloosa mare. She's built for long distance riding, and bursts of extreme speed for outrunning trouble. While she can go quite aways, there is definitely a lack of stamina in maintaining a sprint in comparison to a fully committed race horse.

He steals her from two drug mulers who had been camping out in the wilderness. This is where he ends up with most of his supplies that he keeps with him 'til Deadlock, including a second revolver to go with his first, a analog hunting rifle that he uses extensively for hunting and self-sustenance, and dressing knives. (Before then, he had a bed roll that was on its way out, carried in a ragged pack, a multi-tool, a foldable knife, and a water bladder; one extra set of clothes. Having a horse allowed him to pack greater inventory, travel further, and carry more quality of life items such as a wire set to cook over fires, rope, etc. Etc. In the case of meeting @/quick-drawn, she also allowed him to pack game to bring back home.)

He is on the verge of becoming 12, having left the orphanages some months prior (having been inducted into the system at 11 and spending time being tossed around for about 6-8 months). The whole debacle is a bit of a shit show with him waiting for the dark of night, pressed flat to the ground on his stomach amidst the cover of large rock and sage bush rooting between the crevices. He is, at this point, learning to be a little more clever with his thefts, scoping out the individuals, the layout of the camp (but fails at this time to consider escape plans, terrain.)

Sky turns indigo, then a void of black fractured by the salt-scatter of stars. Fire's died out to embers and the men retire to their tents. Cole scrapes himself up to his feet, scurries down the path tied between hasty and careful and rifles through their supplies like a shambling animal that's wandered someplace it don't belong. He ransacks ammunitions, the aforementioned firearms, some cans of food and a flask engorged with gin, amongst an assortment of other things; gathers and piles them up in the saddle bags on the Appaloosa.

Men start rousing as he's on the tail end of packing - the one stirring with a need to take a piss - and the little heist becomes a smash-and-grab operation where he's cutting the reins with a knife and blasting down the mountainside as they start yelling and searching for their firearms.

Later on, when it's deemably safe and he's lost them, he rummages through her saddle bags and finds papers reading Honeysuckle and his face scrunches up sour. Amber-brown eyes dart up from crinkled black print to the dark pits of the horse's. "Y'don't seem like a Honeysuckle."

He doesn't know why, but the name Maria falls off his tongue much easier. Fits her features more, he thinks. (It is, absolutely, a lapse back into his religious roots. Finding the name like a prayer, which he utters in both thanks and apology. Most of all, the significance just falls down to lyrics of Plastic Jesus: Goin' 90 I ain't scary, 'cos I got the Virgin Mary assurin' me I won't go to hell.)

She's a playful mare, likes to 'sneak up' on him while he's turned away despite the very obvious noise of her shoes hitting the ground. Likes to nuzzle her head into his neck, or knock into his back, set his hat off-kilter. Loves hoofing at creek/river/brook water - though that's a learned habit when he decided to splash at her on a non-eventful, idyllic day at a lakeside shore. Steady girl - he'll call her lady, sometimes. There are days where he'll share a beer with her, too.

He is somewhere in the throes of 13 when he unfortunately re-crosses paths with his victims. It's serendipity on their end, an accidental run-in out in the wilderness near an ol' gutted hunting lodge. The owners recognize Honeysuckle and they sneak up on him like he'd done with them, except instead of running off with a horse and materials, they put a gun to him and have him flag up his hands. They don't know what to do with him (there's an additional man to the original duo) and they murmur amongst themselves in Spanish after beating him to the ground and tying him up; they converse like this thinking the boy can't understand.

There's not a lot going for them to toss him towards a lawman; not a lot of pretty coin for a petty thief, not in these days where the economy and infrastructure's been starved out to a post-war drought. One of them suggests killing him out back. There's nothing really stopping them, and they could re-collect their stolen goods and continue on their way. They'd lost money because of the kid's stunt, lost out on 50% of what they could mule with only 1 horse instead of two.

Third man finally says, Sell him. Some place beyond the border where English is just a rumored language spoken only on tv sets. Labor camps need more hands. Sold men are cheaper than the free ones. He gets his reckoning, we make-up our money and then some.

In English, they tell him that in ancient times the law would have his hands severed from the wrists for theft and they knot up the binds on his hands aggressively tight to prove the point.

And then they'd travelled South, days piling into days. The ribbed rope would gnaw the skin raw, chafing towards bone like it's trying to eat him alive, and the entire thing leaves his wrists risking sepsis and scars; bloody, mangled.

they're stopped by in some post-war abandoned location along the way to rest that's filled with rusty tools and broken beer bottles. Some sort of logging warehouse. Cole finds a shitty piece of glass on a countertop and palms it; clenches his hands around it even when it threatens to nip cuts and draw blood. The men get ready for bed. Cole starts sawing at rope fibers. One of the men check up on him while he's just about free - the binds snapping loose as he realizes something isn't quite right.

Cole doesn't know where the guns are; his hands are in too much pain to aim straight anyway. First man goes down with Cole tackling him right into exposed pipes, gritty sawblades. Commotion brings the other two out: one tries to grab him from behind, while the other moves to sling a punch to the gut. Cole kicks wildly, butts his head into the nose of the man who's got hands on him. He's dropped to the floor. His knees ache from impact but it's his wrists that are screaming and he chokes out a strangled noise of pain, blearily grabbing at a slaughtered beer bottle that he's landed right next to.

Man in front of him's had enough, is going for his gun when Cole launches up into him with the bottle in hand. The serated glass punctures cheek flesh, into an eye socket. Man screams. Cole reels the glass back and keeps jamming it back down - and his face is soaked by the gore of it. The screams stop coming, and there's a thick hand that gloves around his shoulder. By some blind, desperate instinct, his other hand has found the handle of the dead man's gun when he is swung around with a fist cracking into his jaw. The glass bottle crashes into the floor. A gunshot spears the air. A third body cripples to the floor, blood guttering from the stomach. He spits on them, staggering to his feet: hablo español, hijo de puta - ir a la mierda.

He shambles out from the building, doused in blood, brain matter, and tries to put on a brave face, but he starts breaking down and ends up mumbling in a sort of low-key hysterics to maria "im sorry, im sorry, im sorry" -- doesn't know what he's apologizing for, that he stole her, that he killed her previous owners, that he's alive. Between the adrenaline and everything crashing in all at once, it's the first time he's reduced to tears since the times before the war.

Exhausted, he falls asleep outside. Leaves the men as is and weakly cuts their horses free (too tired by it all, he doesn't think to search their pockets for money, to rifle through saddle bags before releasing their mounts.) It's a mistake, because the news will later search for the horse owners, talk about a bloody horror scene found in the stomach of a logging complex. But, until then, the next few days are of travel, trying to find a main road while his wrists are pounding hellfire.

He ends up stumbling into a gas station in the middle of bumfuck nowhere looking like road kill. The attendant is startled right out of his seat as Cole walks up to him and shoves forward a fistful of ruddy-colored bills.

His voice rattles like pennies in a rusted gutter; tinny, scraping. He croaks, "I got some money for a band-aid and some rubbin' alcohol."

Man thinks this kid's been in a motor vehicle collision, says, "Kid you're going to need a lot more than just a band-aid" as he unlatches the medical kit from the wall. He seats Cole down on a plastic foldable chair, patches him up free-of-charge to the best of his ability the way a gas station attendant can offer. Man adds in a pair of gloves to make sure the gauze don't shift around too much. Man asks questions.

Where's your parents? What happened?

Cole says war got them. That he got into an accident.

Man tries to have Cole clean up in the bathroom, says there's snacks waiting outside while he phones for the police. Cole washes up, peels off his clothes for the last set he's got, and pockets the medical supplies the man had been using. He walks off, leaving the bathroom -- just does not come back inside -- and hitches back onto Maria and starts to ride off before anyone can come.

He leaves a few crumpled dollar bills on the sink.

[historyslittlebish]

How would king Baldwin react to utter and complete devotion ? As in writing full pages about him etc etc

a/n: Oopsy, this was sitting in my inbox for like weeks. Sorry its been a bit but I'll humor you with some cute/funny hcs!

==========================================

Warning: fluffy, y/n is kinda a bit of a stalker, Baldwin being himself

Note: No romantic stuff is detailed but I made it so you can choose to be a friend, worker, or romantic interest

It was a simple accident!

Yet his curiosity couldn't be satiated.

Seeing you run off to your quarters in a hurry made him wonder.

What could you possibly be doing?

For once when you were off doing your duties he became a little too curious..As his servant he couldn't help but observe you observe him?

He'd often catch your gaze on him, quietly observing him do his duties as well.

Whenever given the chance, you'd always go up to your room and write non-stop. Even on the job you'd carry a little notebook and write down anything that Baldwin did.

He of course had no idea and thought you were just..odd-ish..

But of course spending days seeing you run off to your room to do who knows what, of course his mind will spin and his thoughts will wander, simply thinking what could you be doing..

These thoughts have been from just simply wanting to rest to planning a coup.

He admits its foolish of him to think such things but as a ruler it's important to be weary.

Finally his curiosity got the better of him and he wandered into the quarters.

He saw a little leather journal sitting on your bed with a discarded quill and ink cup on the stand.

He carefully opened up the journal in the same spot on the bed, wondering what he would find, simply a daily planner? Did you like to write as a hobby? Planning some sort of overthrow?

Imagine his surprise when he sees rants of how great he is, how'd you think he'd be the best king in the world, how you wish there was a cure for his illness.

As he continued to read through the pages, he came across a few sketches of him, just him, in his mask but the mask having fine details, while sitting on his throne or playing chess, and others just random doodles.

He was...surprised.

Judging by the rants and words, you felt utter devotion for him as a king, you admired his work and respected him to great lengths.

Baldwin sorta..felt his heart swell.

He knew that possibly many people, including servants, found him weak or too ill-ridden to be a king but in the same breath help him with all sorts of things.

Yet here you were, praising him for his talents, his bravery, his intelligence. He couldn't help but crack a small smile.

He carefully closed the book and swiftly left, a new plan coming to mind.

The next time he saw you, he came up to you and revealed that he saw the journal and read some of it (there was much to read but he didn't have the time).

Of course you'd be very flustered but before you could say anything, he decided to give you a new job, to be his personal scribe (and mayhaps a friend?).

You'd often join him in any of his activities and he'd share personal interests and thoughts he has, no matter how random, thoughts and things no one else knew about him.

You felt honored to be able to know such things and you'd often detail his words, his thoughts, and behaviors in your notes, keeping track of anything and everything.

Baldwin felt a deep connection with you.

He never really talks to many people about such leisurely things.

So to have someone to express his interests and thoughts and ideas but them being actually interested is..an idea that makes a rush of dopamine clouds his brain.

He is proud for you, and he's glad you like him so much, enough to write endless things about him.

[lucyvelvett001]

Do you want to date me??

[vyunok-obyknovenniy]

Really happy with how she turned out! I decided to give her some naiad features, inspired by this post and it was really fun! I hc that she can breathe underwater (even though she doesn't have gills. Do naiads have gills?), although I am not sure if she can do it freely or for a limited amount of time 🤔

The fabric piece covering her chest was loosely inspired by 18th century neckerchiefs, because I wasn't sure how the Mycenaean open chest fashion would fly with the censorship here or on other platforms ¯⁠\⁠_(•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[pinkvaquita]

Do you think Shadow Milk tried to fight back the corruption? That he slowly watched his beloved friends get consumed in hate and chaos, doing everything he could to stop it from spreading?

That he suffered when Eternal Sugar tried to lure him into leaving his labors? With Silent Salt ignoring his questions? With Burning Spice destroying his work and forcing him to star again? With Mistic Flour not caring about any of his ideas to help? Do you think he spend days and nights, investigating through books and old documents in search for a solution? Not sleeping, eating or letting anyone stop him from his objective that was saving them? Do you think he bursted in anger everytime someone dared to interrupt him or distract him? Do you think he begged the witches for help? They were gods to any cookie, and Shadow Milk probably was thinking that maybe there was something they could do to save the slowly falling souls of his friends. Do you think his heart broked when the witches decided the best course of action was to just impriosion them if things went worst? That he refused, and search harder and harder for a solution that wasn't that? Do you think that maybe he messed with something he shoudn't have?... maybe playing to much with dark magic wasn't such a good idea. Maybe he started to practice it, to learn it from end to start and do anything as a way of practice. Do you think he had burnout from studying so much? That he tried to distract himself, but ended up just more irritated because of the cookies asking for his aid, and his friends just loosing themselves more into it? Do you think his lies started by making the others blame eachother for their problems even if it wasn't true, just so they would leave him alone? Do you think that he found some twisted joy in seeing them fight and lost in lies? That he did it again and again, just to finally take a break from all the tiredness and boredoom of the books? Do you think that Shadow Milk tried to fight back when he saw themselve in the mirror, his hands with jam splatered from some poor victim from his tricks? Or that he just smiled even more at the joy and adrenaline it bringed to him? Do you think he fighted back? Or that he slowly let him self also fall?