#hey look at me actually writing

[dukeofthomas]

Here's my controversial opinion; if you're trying to write Bruce as a non-abusive, good parent, you should also write him respecting his kids' privacy, boundaries, and not stalking&surveying them.

[is-this-even-relatable]

A Rising Phantom

———

Summary: danny died, and no one knows. He is a full ghost, and only thanks to his dual obsessions can he “live” a normal life and pretend that nothing happened.

I aim to make this a multichaptered fic! Hopefully, the first fic I post on AO3!

HEADCANONS/TROPES/TAGS:

no one knows! AU

full ghost! danny

eventual everlasting trio

dual obsessions inspired by this post, which are protection (Phantom) and space (Fenton)

my own headcanon: danny's death is inevitable, a single point in time that cannot be avoided or changed.

———

Danny died on a Saturday.

He was too young to have been left alone; any other house would’ve be fine, but everyone in that town knew, even then, that the Fentons' house was to be avoided by a wide berth.

His parents had rushed out in a frustrated fit, leaving him and Jazz by themselves for the weekend, just like so many before. They were always an afterthought to their parents, long before he was 14.

Danny didn’t intend to go down to the lab that night. But Jazz was out with her friend Kyle, and he was bored. And something down there called to him, though he didn’t know it.

He didn’t know that forces beyond his comprehension were leading to this point, this singularity.

If Danny had known the fate in store for him, he would have begged his parents for them to stay that night, or take him with them. But he didn't know, he couldn't have known... because that's how it was always going to be.

He didn’t know that a man with a clock in his chest, who changed between ages in the blink of an eye, was watching as he walked down those lonely steps.

He didn’t know, as he pulled on a white hazmat suit hand-sewn just for him, far too flimsy for what it was meant to protect him against, that a sentient dimension was pushing against the veil, straining for him.

He didn’t know, as he stepped through the gaping metal maw, that it had already called his name, and death had claimed it.

And afterwards, while he curled up on the cold basement floor, clutching his chest for a pulse, he still did not know that even if he had known... he would have had no choice but to do the same.

Danny died when he turned the portal on, alone in his parents’ lab.

Standing inside, fifty million Watts of electricity coursed from his palm to his heart, searing its path into his skin. It had no exit route. It cooked him from the inside, lighting all of his nerves on fire, and doused him in an infinite realm’s worth of dimensional energy. After what seemed like hours of screaming, panicking, burning- he somehow managed to crawl out of the portal.

He died then, lying flat in front of the machine that ended him, as the intense pain faded into a dull throb that replaced the beating that used to be in his chest.

And as he sat up, feeling both sore and feather-light, he looked down upon his body, and realized that he had died that day, and he was not coming back.

Danny panicked. And he did the only thing he could do. He decided to run away, afraid of what he was, confused and scared and feeling very not himself.

But the main anxiety that drove him to hide his accident was a rather juvenile one.

…He was afraid that his parents would be upset that he had gone into the lab without their permission.

He had messed with their stuff, and turned something on… something he definitely shouldn’t have.

He had just opened a portal to a realm full of the very things that kept him from sleeping at night, of “unfeeling monsters” that his parents had drilled into him about for years.

A portal to ghosts… that were now free to come through.

That thought made something inside him solidify, and a low hum began to emanate from him as he worried about his family. About the ghosts and the portal and how they were going to manage without him…

He couldn’t just leave like this. Not when he was responsible. He couldn’t let a whole realm of monsters hurt his family. At that thought, dread filled him, and that same something inside his chest ached.

But it occurred to him that he still had to leave. Not just at the thought of his parents stumbling in on his body.

No, it was about him. For he was one of them now, wasn’t he? A ghost. And he was a monster now, too. Despite not feeling like one. Despite knowing that there was clearly something wrong with what he had been told and what he knew was intimately true of himself in this new form.

But something inside him whispered at him that he couldn’t take the chance, if he did turn into a monster. He couldn’t let himself hurt his family.

So with fears on his back and a tingle fading from his fingertips, Danny pulled himself up onto unsteady feet. He took his body outside, to the woods where no one would know. And he buried it, alone, surrounded by trees and the sky.

He sat there, at his fresh grave, and cried.

Holding his arms around himself tight, he mourned the loss of warmth, of blood pumping and his heartbeat, so loud in its absence.

Surrounded by nothing but silence, he mourned that he’d never made close friends, nor really had the chance.

Looking up at the stars, he mourned that he could never fulfill his dream of being an astronaut.

He mourned for himself because no one else could.

And as his last cry petered off into the night, the sun broke the horizon.

A different something tugged at his chest, and he let it pull without resistance, worn ragged as he was.

And he was grateful he did. For a soothing light washed over him and transformed him into something similar, but not quite as he was Before.

But he felt warmth, and he felt a pseudo-beat in his chest, sluggish as it was. And suddenly he realized that although he was dead, he was alive in a different way.

He was still there.

He didn’t have to give up on life.

He was not going to be a monster.

Danny walked back home. He washed the dirt away from under his fingernails. He swept the lab until it looked like no one had been there. Minus the massive swirling vortex.

And when Jazz got home from her sleepover, Danny hugged her with a smile.

He was going to be fine.

They would all be fine, he would make sure of it.

[crabussy]

caved and watched the first equestria girls movie. and then the second. and then the third. and then the fouth. and th

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: First Day (Discord Drabble)

"Do you have your lunch?"

"Yes."

"Water bottle?"

"Yes."

"Meds?"

"Obviously!"

"Notebook?"

"Hasn't left my work bag since last semester."

Eddie gasps and Steve jumps even though he has felt his partner hovering close behind him ever since he picked up his keys and announced he was leaving for his first day back for another school year.

"What about your glasses!"

"Eddie," Steve begins, standing upright as he hoists his work bag over his shoulder, "I'm wearing my glasses."

Eddie smiles, all innocence and dimples. He reaches forward to smooth out his collar.

"Silly me," he says, moving to dust off the shoulders of Steve's jacket.

"I'll call you during my lunch break," Steve assures, leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth, "Love you."

He turns to leave but he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll walk you to the car."

"Fine," Steve chuckles, reaching for Eddie's hand.

"Love you too, Stevie," Eddie says, once again impossibly close behind him.

[theoriginalcrossjumper]

so i forgot i can probably like. announce like a normal person that i finally wrote a tau fanfic, huh? on somewhere that isn't just the tau18 server?

wild.

anyway if anyone wants 26k of a transcendence au fic that includes outsider pov of alcor from a perspective we don't often get, gratuitous references to tau mutuals, tons of little sentences and phrasings that i added in specifically because i think i'm hilarious, numerous cameos and references to other tau fics/arcs, a lot of fake legal stuff that sounds accurate if you don't think about it too hard, a sneaky crossover with one of my own original stories that hasn't been written yet, and so many metric tons of worldbuilding that i did behind the scenes that it'll probably force me into writing more in this 'verse: this might be something you can look at!

or not. up to you. have fun!

[pokimoko]

The Poetics of Space - A Gravity Falls Fic

Written by pokimoko

Chapters: 3/3

Word Count: ~44K

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: The Mystery Shack & Ford Pines, The Mystery Shack & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Bill Cipher & Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, The Mystery Shack & The Pines Family, Fiddleford H. McGucket/Ford Pines (One-Sided), Bill Cipher/Ford Pines (also one-sided), (do you even need to ask in which direction the one-sided is pointing)

Characters: The Mystery Shack - Character, Ford Pines, Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket, Bill Cipher, Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Background & Cameo Characters

Summary:

“What was it like when you lived here?” Mabel asked, gesturing at the Shack.

Ford let out a gentle chuckle. “Very different, I assure you. If these walls could talk, I'm sure they would tell some stories.”

Oh, if only he knew.

—

(or: the Mystery Shack has many secrets, and just as many memories. Afterall, a lot can happen over four decades within the space of four walls.)

Tags: Mystery Shack (Gravity Falls), Mystery Shack POV, setting as a character, Haunted Houses, POV Outsider, POV Nonhuman, Pre-Canon, Canon-adjacent, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs a Hug, Golden Child Syndrome, Manipulative Bill Cipher, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Possession, Stan Pines Needs A Hug, Stan Pines Has Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Reconciliation, Implied Autistic Ford Pines, implied AroAce Ford Pines, Unrequited Love, Ford Pines and Mabel Pines Bonding, Pines Family Feels (Gravity Falls), Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by House of Leaves - Mark Z. Danielewski, (very very VERY loosely), If These Walls Could Talk They Would Give You Therapy, Sentient Houses, Sentient Buildings, POV Inanimate Object, its/its pronouns, Protective Mystery Shack, Sentient Mystery Shack - Freeform

[skyward-floored]

..... does Warriors successfully arrest his family? (Downfall IAU)

fearfully, - hero-of-the-wolf

@hero-of-the-wolf BUCKLE UP MY FRIEND!!!

Comes after the Ravio fic and the Warriors fic :) the first one definitely helps for context.

...

It wasn’t until dawn that anything happened.

Legend and Wind both stayed up all night watching for any threats, keeping a largely silent vigil. They camped out on the roof, watching all corners of the yard and street, and Wind didn’t sleep a wink, anxious and full of a shaky worry for everyone. Sky hadn't responded to any of their messages, which wasn't too unusual since it had only been a few hours, but Wind was worried anyway.

Malon and Four stayed inside and prepared for the worst, readying supplies in case a quick escape was needed, and still occasionally trying to contact Sky. Ravio pretty much just slept, mumbling hazily about low prices and pretty birds.

But when the first rays of sunshine poked over the horizon and Wind and Legend had still seen nothing suspicious, everyone relaxed a little. Malon brought out some food for them to eat, and the two of them took it gratefully.

Wind was still worried, but things seemed less scary with the glimmer of dawn on the horizon, orangey light warming his face. Legend looked a little more relaxed as well, and they began to eat, both feeling lighter.

Wind took exactly three bites of his bagel before he froze, staring out across the street.

A man stood in plain view from his and Legend’s standpoint, one who hadn’t been there before. The sun shone off his white and blue outfit like sunlight on a frozen lake, and a mask covered part of his face, but Wind knew immediately who he was and why he was here.

He just didn’t want to believe it.

“Legend,” he whispered, and Legend immediately turned and looked, the color draining from his face.

“Wind, go warn them,” he whispered, but Wind remained frozen in place, staring at Warriors. “Wind.”

Wind couldn’t make himself move, gaze locked on Warriors. His uncle didn’t move either, silently watching him and Legend, and even though the distance was pretty far, Wind almost thought he could make out regret on his face.

Legend’s elbow to his side snapped him out of his daze, and Wind scrambled down the roof and inside a window, almost wiping out on a rug as he ran.

“Malon they’re coming!” he cried, and he heard a sharp intake of breath.

Malon appeared around the corner as a harsh knock came from their front door, and Wind gave her a panicked look. The knocks quickly turned into pounding, and Wind heard a thud on the roof, along with a shout.

“Go wake Ravio,” Malon said, and Wind ran off into the living room. He was worried about Legend, but he knew he could handle himself. Hopefully.

The pounding on the door seemed to have already woken Ravio up, and his green eyes were looking fearfully at the door as Wind ran in.

“They found me,” he said in a panic, and Wind nodded.

“Yeah. You and us. But they'll have to fight to catch us, c’mon.”

“I can’t run very well like this,” Ravio said nervously, and Wind pulled his arm up around his shoulders, helping him stand.

“No problem, we’ll help you,” he replied, and winced as another shout came from outside. “Where’s Four?”

“He said he needed to do something,” Ravio said as they hurried out of the living room.

“He what?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t explain!”

Both of them yelped as something shook the building, and Malon suddenly went flying back from the front door, hitting the wall beside them with a grunt.

Wind shouted in alarm, but Malon was unhurt, quickly standing up with her fists raised. Wind looked at where she’d come from, and saw the door broken with a group of people gathered in the doorway, all dressed in dark colors and protective gear. He didn’t see Warriors anywhere.

“Malon Forester, you and all the occupants of this house are under arrest,” the one at the front said, and Malon’s face creased determinedly.

“I don’t think so. Get Ravio out of here,” Malon directed towards Wind, but before he could move, he heard a wild yell.

Four suddenly burst from the hallway, dressed in his super suit that he’d been wearing when he and Wind first landed here. It was bright blue though, and Wind wasn’t surprised when three other Fours ran out behind the blue one, all looking determined.

Blue threw himself at the group in the doorway, and the others followed, all yelling as they lit up their powers. Chaos reigned as the colors swept through the squad, and Malon pushed Wind to get going.

“I’ll help Four, go,” she urged, and Wind and Ravio hurried off towards the back door, trying not to listen to the yelling from behind them.

They made it to the door quickly, but Wind could see even more of the scary soldier-people rushing towards the house, and he quickly locked the door and shoved a couple heavy chairs in front of it for good measure. They... weren't making it out that way.

“Now what?” Ravio asked a little hysterically, and Wind suddenly remembered Malon mentioning something about an emergency hatch in the basement room he and Four had been sleeping in. She’d only brought it up briefly, and he’d forgotten about it in the rush.

“Downstairs, c’mon,” he urged, gathering some winds around them just in case. They were on the opposite side of the house from the basement stairs, but the shouting had died down a little, so he was hopeful.

They hurried back the way they came, Wind eternally grateful that the house had tough windows and good locks. It didn’t seem like any of the scary-looking soldiers had gotten in yet, except for the ones at the front door, but it sounded like Malon and Four were handling them.

Wind and Ravio rushed past the front door, and saw Malon and all four colors braced against it, Malon having replaced the door and now struggling to secure a lock on it. Wind set Ravio down for a moment, and shoved a heavy-looking table over to help block the door. Malon realized what he was doing, and briefly abandoned Four in order to help him shove the table, as well as several other heavy pieces of furniture.

“Will that hold them?” Green asked in an out of breath voice.

“Hopefully long enough for us to get away,” Malon replied as they finished, rubbing her shoulder a bit. Wind squinted at her, but he couldn’t tell if she was truly hurt or not.

“How are we getting out?” Red said in a somewhat panicked voice as the men on the other side of the door began to bang at it again.

“Basement,” Malon replied, then shooed them along. “Hurry.”

The Colors finally moved away from the door, and though the banging began to increase, the door didn’t budge, locked and barricaded as it was.

They rushed down the hallway, Wind almost dropping Ravio when he heard a window shatter somewhere. He cast a glance at Malon, and saw that her face was surprisingly calm.

Though maybe that wasn't too surprising. It seemed to Wind that she'd been expecting something like this to happen for ages.

“I gotta grab my bag,” Vio said suddenly, stopping in his tracks. The other colors stopped as well, and Wind looked back at the different colors of his brother. “All our bags, we left them in the kitchen, there's important stuff in there.”

“Go fast,” Wind said worriedly, and the Colors nodded and bolted away.

Wind heard another window shatter somewhere, and drew some wind tighter around himself, wiping his sweaty palms on his shirt. He really wished he'd at least had a nap last night. The lack of sleep only made his nerves feel even more shot.

“Where’s Legend?” Ravio huffed as they continued to work their way across the house. He was looking paler again, probably from the strain on his leg as well as the situation at hand. Wind couldn’t blame him.

“He was on the roof, I don’t know whe—”

“Right here.”

Legend flickered into view beside them, and Wind was glad he was used to it and didn’t shriek like Ravio did.

His alternate-brother looked a little ruffled, but unhurt as far as Wind could tell. Legend opened his mouth to say more, but Malon abruptly grabbed him away from the stairwell, some kind of energy blast hitting the wall where his head had been.

More of the armored men were coming from upstairs, and Wind blasted a gust at their feet, making them all trip and fall into a pile. Their group rapidly turned the corner towards the basement, and Wind started to believe they’d maybe make it out.

Then he saw Warriors standing in the hallway, blocking their path.

Wind stopped short, and Malon and Legend bumped into him, all three of them staring at the super in front of them.

“Warriors,” Malon began, firm, but soft regardless. “Let us through.”

Warriors looked at them, but his expression stayed the same, smooth and emotionless. “I can’t do that. All of you are under arrest. If you come quietly, this’ll be easier for all of us.”

“Easier for all of us? Or just for you?” Legend snapped, and Wind thought he saw hurt flash in his uncle’s eyes.

“Legend, Malon, I don’t want to do this,” he said in a quieter voice. “Please. Come quietly.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Malon said firmly.

“Dad wouldn’t want us to,” Legend spat.

Warriors flinched, but didn’t say anything in reply. He simply lifted his hands, frost forming threateningly on his gloves.

Nobody moved for several tense seconds. Legend glared silently at his uncle, Ravio looked nervously towards the door, Malon kept a steady eye on her husband’s brother, all while Wind watched and wondered what to do.

Warriors couldn’t be serious... could he?

Wind had only spoken to this version of Warriors once, but... he loved his family. Wind could tell that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Why was he doing this?

Why was he working for the bad guys?

Footsteps came up behind Wind, and he turned to see Four run up, looking winded and shaky. He’d reformed into one for some reason, holding several bags in his arms, and Wind caught his shoulder. Four stumbled to a halt as he looked around at the situation, and frowned.

And then Warriors locked eyes with Four, and his face went white.

That moment of distraction was what they’d been waiting for, and Malon threw herself at her brother-in-law, successfully knocking him to the ground.

“Go boys!” she shouted, and they scrambled to obey, Legend and Wind grabbing Ravio, while Four ran behind. Legend ran ahead of them and flung open the door to the basement, hurriedly gesturing them inside.

Wind couldn’t help watch Malon grapple with Warriors, her eyes alight with protectiveness. He winced as she punched him, the two rolling around as they fought, and Wind gasped when Warriors’s hands glowed with ice and he tried to freeze her arms.

The soldiers Wind had tripped came around the corner as well, and began shooting more of the energy beams that Legend had narrowly avoided. Wind was a little surprised they didn't have bullets, but he supposed he shouldn't complain. At least being shocked wasn't as instantly life-threatening.

Four suddenly stumbled against Wind, having trouble with the ice rapidly coating the area. Wind grabbed his arm and ended up supporting him almost more than Ravio, Four still shaky from being split and struggling to hold onto the bags all while avoiding any blasts.

“Guys come on, we— Mom?” Legend said, his commanding tone suddenly slipping. Wind turned back to look again, and saw Malon with one arm pinned to the ground with ice.

Warriors was panting, blood dripping from his nose, and despite Malon getting her lasso around one of his legs, she hadn’t been able to pull it tight. Warriors stood and turned towards the basement door, his hands glowing again, and Wind hated the closed-off look on his face.

He raised his hands, but then Malon shouted, wrenching her arm free of the ice and yanking the lasso around Warriors’s leg.

He lost his balance with a cry, and Malon kicked him backwards, sending him sliding down the hall a bit.

“Boys, go now,” she said, making no move to join them as she tried to get the rope around Warriors’s other leg. He shot some ice at her again, and it froze some of her hair as she dodged.

“But Mom—!”

“I said go! That’s an order!” she shouted, cutting Legend off.

“We’re not leaving you here!” Wind said, wanting to rush to her side, but still supporting both Four and Ravio. He couldn’t even use his powers to help, the hallway too narrow and Malon and Warriors moving too fast for him to do anything.

Malon gave Wind and Four a complicated look, then threw open a closet door that opened into the hallway, blocking a shot from Warriors. The ice froze it in place, and Wind could hear Warriors trying to break through as energy shots rattled it, but Malon didn’t press the sudden advantage. Rather she used the brief break to look back at the four of them.

Her expression softened, and she locked eyes with Legend, his face pale and frantic.

“I’ll keep him busy, you four go ahead. The hatch downstairs opens with the triforce tap combination, you know it Legend.”

Legend’s expression looked like pure agony. “Mama I can’t—”

A loud crack came from the closet door, and Malon swept forward and grabbed all of them into a hug, even Ravio, and she quickly kissed Legend’s hair.

“It’ll be okay, honey. Go!”

She gave them all a pointed shove through the doorway as Warriors broke through the ice, and Legend shouted a warning. Wind caught a brief glimpse of Warriors standing behind her, his hands raised with grief on his face, and Malon slammed the door shut behind them.

Then the tell-tale sound of Warriors shooting his ice rang out, sealing the door shut.

“No!” Legend screamed, slamming his shoulder into the door.

Wind stared at it in horror, but he could already tell the ice was too thick for them to break through. The door was totally sealed off, thick ice sealing all around the edges, and even the sound from the other side was muffled.

Nobody would be getting through that door for hours.

“Legend we have to go,” Wind said in a shaking voice, hating that he had to be the one to say it, and Legend banged a fist against the door, breathing heavily.

“Mom!” he yelled, but there was no reply, only muffled shouts.

Four gave Wind a frightened look, Ravio’s expression pure shock, and Wind took in a deep breath as Legend slammed his fist against the door again.

“Legend,” Wind repeated quietly, and Legend gripped the door handle so hard his knuckles turned white.

Wind managed to brush a slight breeze over Legend’s head, meant to be comforting, and Legend stilled, only his shaking shoulders belaying his emotions.

“I can’t lose her too,” Legend finally whispered in a terrified voice.

“You’re not losing her. This isn’t over,” Wind said, choking back the knot in his throat. He had to focus, he could cry later. “We’ll get her back Legend, I swear, but we can’t let what she did be in vain. We have to go.”

Legend pressed his forehead to the door, and didn’t move.

Then he harshly breathed out, and leaned back, a murderous expression on his face.

“We’re going for Sky’s place. It'll be safe there. And then we’re getting her back,” he said in a harsh whisper.

Wind and Four both nodded determinedly, and Ravio gave Legend a light nudge, looking like he didn’t know what else to do. It was telling that Ravio had stayed quiet almost this whole time— Wind knew his version of him could be a bit of a chatterbox sometimes— but now it was like he just didn’t know what to say.

It could’ve been the pain he was in, but Wind had a feeling it was more due to shock.

“Come on,” Legend muttered, nudging Wind forward, and they all hurried down the stairs, nobody speaking as Legend opened the secret hatch, then closed and locked it behind them.

Nobody spoke as they crawled through the tunnel, Legend leading the way and helping Ravio with his leg. Wind glimpsed tears on Legend's face from the light of the flashlight, but he didn't say anything about them, knowing it wasn't the time. They needed to get away from here first.

Four finally distributed the packs so he didn't have to carry them all, though Wind took two because Malon...

Wind swallowed, and shook his dark thoughts away. They'd just wanted to arrest them, not kill them. Malon would be captured, but he had to hope she would be fine. Especially with Warriors there, he wouldn't let them do anything bad to her...

...Right?

An image of Warriors shooting ice at them with an emotionless look in his eyes shot through Wind's brain, and he held back a shudder, Four brushing his side.

Malon had to be okay.

She would be okay.

Wind swallowed again, and focused all of his energy on crawling through the dusty tunnel, not thinking about Warriors, not thinking about Malon, and trying his best not to listen to the quiet sound of Legend's tears.

(...)

Malon was silent as she was surrounded and handcuffed, though she still struggled and kicked like the horses she spent so much of her time with. Finally she was restrained though, and the man who was technically Warriors's superior grinned as he proudly announced she was under arrest for treason, participating in illegal ventures, aiding and abetting known criminals... the list went on.

Warriors held her silently while the man prattled on, and glanced at the basement door, still frozen solid. He tried not to let the hope show on his face, but he was overwhelmingly relieved inside.

He'd given Legend and the others some time. His nephew may hate him now, but it was worth it.

Malon stumbled suddenly on some of the ice, and Warriors automatically caught her, her head ending up rather close to his.

"Thank you," she whispered, so soft Warriors thought he'd imagined it. She gave him the smallest of nods when he looked at her though, and Warriors returned it, his throat tight.

She knew he'd helped Legend get away.

The man finally finished his list of alleged crimes, and Warriors prodded Malon to her feet as gently as he could manage while still putting on a show. She didn't resist, and they marched out of the house, Malon with her head high and undefeated.

I'm sorry Time.

[nottoonedin]

"AU where Ivan is alive" this "Fic where Ivan and Till are saved by the Rebels" that..

Where are all the fics where Sua is alive/saved by the rebels with Mizi? ¿Dónde? ¿Dónde están??

[aria0fgold]

Seared like a songbird flying to the sun

A belated birthday gift for @misty-wisp ! Tried to combine references for both Swan Lake and Cendrillon >:3 (Linked the English cover I took the lyrics from for the title!)

[urproblematicfav-arsonk]

With the reveal of Abel now outside of leaks, unless people are right about the crackship idea that Lucifer knocked/got knocked up by Adam and is the secret father, I feel like the implication is that Eve is white.

Lilith, Adam, Eve, Abel and Lucifer are all white. All of the first humans are white. All of the royals are white, all of the people in power are white. Excluding a few characters, like Sara and Emily(who are still gray, and not black btw), almost the entire governing systems are white people.

I don't understand why Viv acts like her being Latina is the reason people don't like her work, or that hating on a successful Latina woman is all anyone is ever doing, when her representation is terrible???

I'm not special for saying this, cuz this has been a problem since day one and plenty of people complain about it. But every brown/black isn't ya know.......BROWN. Velvette is the only character I can think of thats actually black.

Alastor, Val, Vaggie, Carmilla are all either gray or purple. And Alastor doesn't even have a good excuse like Val or Vaggie have with being bugs. Deer are usually brown anyway, and he's the most humanoid of all the furry characters so him having a more human skin tone wouldn't be that odd of a design choice.

I'm probably missing some other characters because Viv is awful at conveying that a character isn't white. Husk doesn't count, he's only black because Keith David is playing him, he was never intentionally written to be black. (And neither was Alastor so, ¯\_(:/)_/¯) Niffty is only Asian because her pilot VA could speak Japanese, and Viv was like "yeah sure, whatever. she can be Japanese" without any further thought being put into what that could mean for her character. Vassago may or may not have been originally intended to be Latino, idk, but again he's still being played by a irl Latino so it could just be the same problem with Husk.

There's nothing necessarily wrong with the first humans all being white, but there's also nothing wrong with stopping to ask yourself "Why is it that my first instinct is to make Adam and Eve white? Is it my own bias? Is it because this is what society pushes as biblical canon?"

Almost everyone has racist or uncomfortable biases. It's normal when you live in a racist society. You grow up hearing things or absorbing information from your peers and the people around you. The best way to avoid that, is to sincerely question and understand why you feel and think the way that you do. Asking, "Why is it that when I want to convey that this character is evil and scary, my first instinct is to use symbols and words from a foreign religion? Is it because I'm genuinely interested in this religion, and want to explore it? Or is it because I've been taught to think that foreign cultures, especially black cultures, are inherently more scary and monstrous?" Is how you actually figure out if what you're doing is something to be concerned over, and if it's something that's hurtful or mean and thus should be corrected.

But Viv doesn't ask these questions. She uses being Latina to deflect her racism, or claim that people engaging with her art in a way she doesn't like is just them being the racist ones.

(Or homophobia, or hating SA victims, or just being mean to her for no reason. And I get it to a certain extent. She's been dealing with anti's and people fucking with her over being a furry FOR AWHILE NOW LMAO. Sometimes its hard to tell when something is a REAL genuine critique or complaint, and who's just bitching again because they can't handle a pop song about SA, or a bathtub of snakes, or the fact that valangel exists at all. Some people are out to be actually fucking awful for no real reason, but she tends to lump everyone who doesn't like her work as the same when thats not the case. People are also stupid, and genuinely in their very, very dumb hearts think that Snakes In A Bathtub is on the same level as like, racist appropriation and will treat Both with the same Severity because they're stupid)

She panics, and doubles down instead of actually thinking about what she's doing. "Uh, uh, uh, HE'S ACTUALLY MIXED. SO ITS FINE." Isn't helpful. That wasn't the problem. She treats race like its a toy that she doesn't even want to use. There's no sincerity behind anyones design or backstories. It's literally not relevant to her.

Anyway, rant tim. Viv needs therapy. She's definitely too mentally ill and immature to be handling this shit on her own. She is in soooo far over her head and it not only results in a bad show, but probably isn't good for her either.

[frankiebirds]

REID AND SEAVER GOING TO GET INDIAN FOOD TOGETHER AT THE END OF 6X24,,,,hear me out

[sparring-spirals]

There is a universe in which i was caught up properly on CR whenever what the fuck went down and Imogen verbally and definitively declared that- after everything leading up to this and the back and forth and indecision- that she'd be willing to take down her mom if need be. and i would have been deeply insufferable and writing 20+ separate meta posts and liveblog yelling posts and shitposts. This is not that universe so instead we will put this post here where i can have wildly uninformed (aka 20 eps behind) Emotions about it until someday i actually catch up.

(I know. i accidentally wrote potentially wildly off base/deeply out of date meta again. what can i say. i like shaking the concept of An Imogen (even if it is Outdated Imogen) in a jar. sorry.)

Because i was watching long enough, I think, to see Imogen in the throes of the hope for something better, to understand that Imogen was viewing her mom was a figure and an idea and an answer, that would make things easier. Her mom was- gone, so early. And so her mom, in her mind, was not a person she was an idea, and there was so much hinged on that! Dogged determination and anger at her father and a deep seated dislike of the powers in her hands and head even as they gave her a guilty rush. There were promises there that maybe no one else had made, but Imogen believed. Things built up. Expectations made. Lore crafted, even unconsciously, around someone who was, yes, important to Imogen, but more importantly: Missing. Gone. A blank slate to be filled in. A promise of an answer guide to open questions.

And then she meets her mom, and Liliana Temult goes from a figure to a person- with all the bells and whistles and rough edges. She meets her mom and her mom turns her away. Tells her to run. Tells her she should go. Tells her to leave.

And Imogen doesn't. In the same way she kept visiting libraries, keps asking, kept pushing for answers when it was just about her magic and her headaches and the voices. Imogen always, always wants to know. She keeps digging, she keeps trying, she reaches out, over and over and keeps trying to touch this figure in mist until she's real under her hands, and. Evidence piles up- of deeds gone wrong, blood on her hands, a figure standing next to Otohan (her friends bodies scattered, lifeless, around Otohan). She keeps reaching out, keeps trying, and is rebuffed, over and over. Things get worse and the skies get redder and magic goes dead and she's still- unsure, because what if there's a better reason, what if there's a better way, there has to be a reason, why. There has to be, right- maybe if- maybe. Maybe-

Its just like- a person as an idea. As a symbol. As a promise. One you build yourself up around and towards. One you talk about, not talk to.

And then the fog clears, and they are a human.

(And she's your mom, and she's not what you imagined. She's done you wrong. She's done your loved ones wrong. She's hurt you. She's hurt others. She's going to keep hurting you. She is going to keep hurting everyone. She is too far gone to reason with. She is not listening to you. She is flawed. She is. dangerous. She looks so much like you. You look just like her. You are so similar. You have always known you were similar. You always hoped. You.

Are not her. You are not hers. She is not yours. She is not who you thought she was. She was always someone else. So are you.)

Imogen walks through the bases pretending to be her mother. Liliana is a known face- a powerful one, a figure people fear. A well known silhouette. Imogen slips into the shadows of it, sometimes, when it serves her, but we know- she knows- its all an act. All a lie.

Liliana, after all, is alive, and well, making choices that she believes in and fighting for things with a dogged determination maybe only matched by her daughter.

Imogen knows this. I think. There's a part of her that maybe wishes that wasn't the case.

"There is no loyalty with this blood." And after all- only living people bleed.

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[cinnaminstar]

Hi! I was scrolling AO3’s ISAT pages bc I love the game so much, and found your very very good fic!

Wanted to give you my list of things I like about it just so you know that you are good at it and feel good and are fed compliments.

-loved how you made FULL use of the Sif-bad-guy card when dealing with, like, story beats. Instead of the friendquests in the game, it’s 2 different kidnappings and a library visit. Also, Sif dressing in Mira’s clothes was stupid amounts of funny to me. There is no world in which Sif works for the king and does not monologue for fun with audience participation

-You really got the characters dead to rights in terms of how you wrote them. Even if the situation is different, I feel like the way you portrayed everyone was SO GOOD in terms of accuracy, which I appreciate a lot. You even made new funny dialogue for the beauty alliance! How Dare! Thank You!

-Loved the looping to different places or different times that happened further in the chapter. Especially in the most recent chapter omg so good.

-I like your Loop more than main game Loop??? So mean???? And bitch???? Smoches

-Congrats on graduating!

-I also loved what you didn’t do! Which was repeat like, any of the game??? How are you so creative??? Sif hasn’t even attacked the King ever?? In my ISAT fic??? No such cases.

-yeah.

-Just a lot of admiration for how far you’ve gone. 18 or however many chapters over 3ish months I think is a lot.

Hello very nice stranger thank you for writing many many words of compliments. I. Hhhhhhh /pos

As a gift of gratitude, here are two (2) whole sneak peaks of the next chapter, including the internal chapter names + two entire puns:

[pikkish]

idk if this is a good prompt but put doomguy in myhouse.wad I think he would find it enriching

Right, so I've been mulling on this one for a little bit now, n I'm not opposed to writing something for you, I'm just not... entirely sure what to write? Because the thing is, myhouse.wad doesn't actually really have anything to do with Doom as a story. Sure, Doom is important in that it's the vessel through which the story is told and one of the connections between the narrator and his dead companion. But as far as Doom itself goes, and the story about a man who was too angry/stupid to die, fighting demons and saving earth, none of that is at all relevant to myhouse.wad and its story. For all intents and purposes, Doomguy isn't actually a character in myhouse.wad. So I'm not really sure how exactly to fit him in there.

[lycankeyy]

I think the Obvious Vent Art tmnt iterations I follow are rubbing off on how I write my fucking fnf au lol