#hhhhhh anyway. new designs who this

[emry-stars-art]

Thoughts on prince Riko’s “perfect court” before anyone escaped Evermore ( @thefoxesraven pls remind me if it was you with the branding vs tagging idea on that insta live)

@snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of came up with SO MUCH of the possible politics and family ties of this au, it was incredible to watch and I think I finally understand enough to post about it 😂 there’s a balance of power between the two branches of Evermore royalty, which balance is shifting slowly to the Moriyamas and by the end of the story belongs solely to them with Ichirou as king. I’ll try to explain it in a different post if there’s interest

(And lest we go a day without Abram angst: he does in fact get his brand and more, when he’s taken back to Evermore and Riko takes the chance to reclaim his property ‘like he should have done to begin with’.)

[welcometogrouchland]

Btw the reason why the hexsquad had kinda weird Grom outfits in the photo set during the timeskip is bc their junior Grom was themed "back to the 'fraidies" (pun on 80s) and was one of those cheesy vintage themed school dances. They're all wearing old outfits scoured from thrift stores and their parents closets.

Speaking of, the entire hagsquad was there to chaperone and they spent the night being nostalgic and sorting out their own issues (bc their own Grom was very very Messy. The dalador friendship breakup happened here, there was tension between Lilith and Eda over it being the first year Eda had a date (Raine, who had drama at home that year and ended up crashing on the Clawthorne's couch after Grom rather than going home) instead of going stag w/ Lilith, who almost didn't come that year, but ended up going with Perry Porter, who was generally just kind of awkward around his miserable "date" the whole night. It Was Not Fun)

The soundtrack was boppin' and the fashion was horrendous. Darius and Alador made out that night in a corridor. The school, led by Gus, teamed up to defeat Grom permanently. Bump announced his retirement and Eda cried. Overall fun night!

[artisticbunny]

o.O look I know it’s only been like a week but I’m like, deeply infatuated with a whole new concept that has nothing to do with anything I had previously indulged in. It has nothing to do with fnaf, or utdr, or anime, or even any of my favorite book series

(BUT A COMPLETELY ORIGINAL CONCEPT BY YOU BUN THIS IS CRAZY LIKE HOW WELL OILED IS YOUR BRAIN? WHAT AM I MISSING?)

And today— I come bearing questions for the creator of this ‘new concept’— a true genius from none other than the nefarious hellsite;

Tumblr.

Yep. That’s right. And now, I ask this:

(Hey Bun, don’t mind me I’m just roleplaying myself in your inbox over a silly question. I just wrote an opinionated report for my ELA teacher, so maybe I’m not out of writer mode lol. Anyways, can we know more about Brook? Like y’know, ‘Brook Child’. If that’s treading too close to spoiler territory, then alternatively, can we know about Sam the wizard? He was mentioned earlier and I like wizards and warlocks because magic is such a popular concept based off of something which nobody really knows. Plus it’s something I’m sure everyone ever has fantasized about, even if many believe it doesn’t exist… not nerd ver: magic is cool can we hear about Sam?)

:3 Yep. That’s it. Hope this wasn’t too long or crazy lol. I really do enjoy the course of this and how it’s going. Sounds really cool. Also, I LOVE the artwork that goes along with it. (Plus I saw your Cryptid design and it IS quite friend shaped if I do say so myself lol) You draw very nicely, I like that it’s awesome.

HHHHHH GRABS YOU AND STARTS SHAKING YOU AROUND YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT MEANS TO ME AAAAA

PLEASE ALL THESE COMPLIMENTS ARE GONNA GO TO MY HEAD (///////) IVE BEEN READING YOUR TAGS IN THE REBLOGS TOO DONT THINK I HAVENT!!!! YOU GOT ME SMILING LIKE AN IDIOT!!!!

And so,,, Ask and ye shall receive my beloved moot!!!

Brook’s backstory is one that is completely lost to her. Her “mother” never really told her much other than “I found you and took you in, so now you owe me.” At the moment I don’t really think it’s important to the story, and I don’t think it will ever come up so I’ll spill the tea for you ;3

Brook actually was born into a very loving family. She had parents who adored her and each other, and they lived in a fairly peaceful town. This… didn’t really last. Brook’s family went out one day, planning to go a few towns over to see relatives, and instead of settling down for the night, decided to travel through till the morning. Under the shade of night, they were jumped by bandits. During the scuffle, their horse got spooked, and whisked away the cart, with Brook still inside. The horse ran off-trail into the woods, the cart catching on fallen trees and rocks. The horse’s restraints attaching it to the cart were damaged so much by all the debris that when the cart got caught in the bank of a rocky stream, the horse broke free, and the cart remained. Brook’s “Mother” found her and took her in with the thought that she could help with chores when she was older.

Brook stayed 16 long years with her “Mother” (making her ~17 now), and got the idea to escape about a year and a half prior to the events of the story :)

Under her “mother”’s “care”, it wasn’t uncommon for Brook to have food taken away from her if she acted up or made mistakes, it also wasn’t uncommon for her to be locked in the basement with only thin slits of windows to let in light. The basement is also where she slept, not having a room of her own.

Because of these conditions, she is pretty sickly. She is VERY thin and malnourished, and is also pretty short as a result (she’s almost EXACTLY 5 feet tall, maybe a little shorter if you flatten her hair). Her hair is matted and tangled, and her clothes are old, thin, and covered in various stains and grime. She has lots of scars all over her body but by far the most noticeable is the one straight down over half of her face.

She has anxiety and is baby and I love her :)

She’s tired, and needs a break, but she’s not really gonna get one for a while, sorry hon!

Now, you get Sam too because he is VERY cool and silly and I love him.

Sam is a half elf!!! Idk that I mentioned this before!!! He’s kinda just a silly goofy dude who gets stage fright unless it’s his silly werewolf boyfriend. They LOVE each other your honor!!!

Unfortunately god gives his hardest tests to his silliest clowns.

Yeah he goes through the wringer throughout the story. I can’t say much of that because yay plotpoint!!! But yeah djxndhdh

So basically Sam was born in a nice town, pretty average sized, with parents that wanted the best for him. When they saw that he had innate magical abilities (ie: a higher magic storage ability and they saw him just messing around with it and having fun as a kid), they thought that setting him up for apprenticeships would set him up for a good life. What they DIDNT consider is that Sam didn’t really want that. Yeah, when he first started he thought magic was REALLY cool!!! And fun!!! But… all the studying and reading and practicing form and BLAH BLAH BLAH- it made it almost unbearable. Honestly now that I’m thinking about it I probably infused some of my adhd into him without realizing- whoops! Sitting for hours and hours on end just studying instead of actually doing the cool stuff? No thanks that sounds like actual torture! Lol

But yeah, he would end up going through like 5 apprenticeships before he and Joe end up running off into the woods together to find Joe’s tether or some other alternative that hasn’t been discovered yet. They spent a while just kinda camping in the woods with not really much luck before Brook comes along. They’ve been out on their own for about 3 or 4 years at that point, but they haven’t really been counting.

Sorry Sam probably isn’t as interesting as the others, not too bad of a tragic backstory competitively lol. Gotta have SOME less messed up characters! Trust me tho, he gets some good character time in the story I promise!

Here’s what he looks like:

He has a lot of scruff lol, and I love that for him <3

[scribblesofanaricat]

The Middle

(title taken from the Jimmy Eat World song of the same name (I posted this yesterday and then realised it was the rough unedited version, so I panic-deleted it hhhhhh- ;-;))

~

Louise has always liked the sound doors make when slammed. To her, the way it rings out shouts on her behalf for the world to go to Hell.

It’s her so-called kitchen cupboards this time, each one jerked open and then flung shut at least twice over, as if something worth eating will magically materialise in there if she just looks again. As if she hasn’t gone through this whole song and dance a hundred times by now.

Stupid.

In the end, she resigns herself to shoving a couple of squashed, half-stale pieces of bread into the clunky toaster, arms aching up to her shoulders in protest. Just another day. Hours and hours of getting pushed around by managers who wear their fancy watches like the bloody crown jewels, made to take care of other people’s work as well as her own without a word of thanks, screamed and sworn at down the phone over things that’re (well) above her pay grade – and, worse than anything, called by that name, the one she’s told them isn’t hers…but it conveniently keeps slipping their minds anyway.

So the usual crap, really.

A crooked smile tugs at the corners of Louise’s lips. All of that – day in, day out – for the sake of this shoebox of a flat, not worth the paper the lease was drawn up on, and whatever’s on clearance at the supermarket. It’s so stupid.

But…maybe not for much longer. Maybe. She rubs the bridge of her nose between stiff fingers, her mind turning its back on the never-ending daily grind, on the limp combover of the mouth-breathing landlord who’d make a better magpie than a human and the gutters clogged with burnt-out cigarette ends and dirty needles. It wanders through new lands of the kind that’ve sneered down at people like her for so long. New streets she can stroll down without snotty faces glaring at her back and new alleys that’re safe to cut through. And…if she can just do this, then she’ll finally have a chance to pursue that part of herself which everyone who thinks it’s their business have always dangled out of her reach, that body, that identity-

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

Louise jerks like some kid just let off a firework right next to her. Grey smoke curls through the measly excuse for a kitchen, pricking its fingers into her eyes. She snatches up a tea towel from the pile on the floor and flaps at the smoke alarm with it like a lunatic (while muttering every curse she knows through her teeth) until the stupid shrieking finally dies down.

And – she lets out a mirthless snort at the sight, burying both hands in her hair – of course, of course the toast has decided to burn to a crisp. In one movement, she rips the slices out of the toaster, even though the heat sears into her bare skin, and tosses them across the room into the bin. Whatever. She’ll survive.

Because that’s what Louise has always had to do. Survive. Especially when it became more and more obvious that nobody was planning on swooping in to help anytime soon.

Stupid…so, so stupid.

An hour or two later, curled up on the mangy sofa patterned like an old biddy’s blouse (where the landlord got his hands on something so horrible, Louise never wants to know), she wonders idly what all those managers are dining on tonight. Probably salmon or something, with posh chocolates to stuff their smug faces with afterwards and congratulate themselves on how hard they’ve worked to get there.

After all, the lot of them probably think as the next course is delivered on nothing less than a silver plate, nobody ever handed anything to me on a plate. Because they’re obviously the ones who have to fight tooth and nail every single day just to make some sort of life for themselves – with all the odds stacked against them right from the start to boot.

Ha.

Louise mechanically tugs the blankets a bit higher around herself in a half-hearted effort to both hold back the urge to beat her fists against the floor like a toddler and block out the familiar chill in the air. How likely is it that she has enough left in her wallet to pick up some food and (gasp) top up the gas meter? Somehow, she thinks not very.

That’s a nice little snag, isn’t it? She tries hard too. From the second she pries herself out of bed ‘til she can finally crawl back into it; even then, she lies awake time and time again, tormenting herself over the bills and the bugs. Yet who’s busy snatching up the rewards for all that? For the long grinding hours, the festering rubbish pile stinking up the street corner and gaggles of teenagers dogging her every step with slurs and threats whenever she has to wade through it, for bloody everything? Who wins? The system, always. Leeching off the blood and sweat and tears of all the ones who can’t protect themselves, because the damn thing has no face and a million faces at the same time.

That system, and everyone who pulls its strings and makes it dance its little dance, is just plain broken – maybe beyond repair at this point. And stupid. So very stupid. Why should she pander to it?

Reality comes to bite Louise yet again, this time in the form of BANG after muffled BANG, juddering the ceiling above her head. The people responsible – and she knows damn well who – aren’t troubling to keep their voices down, either.

Something spikes hot as lava in her chest. She hurls the blankets away, slams her hand down on the tatty arm of the sofa, pushes herself to her feet. No. No, nope, no. Not this, not tonight.

Within seconds, she’s out of her flat and up the dingy stairs (who’d they pull in as an interior designer? Batman?) onto the next floor. Before she can hammer on the door of Flat 3B and bellow shut it!, though, one of its denizens comes staggering out, clothes hanging off her and reeking of sweat.

She gnashes her teeth as soon as she spots Louise standing there with her fists clenched. ‘Don’ yer go puttin’ yer dir’y fingers anywhere near our door.’ The words are a lot less impressive than the old bat probably thinks. For one thing, they’re the kind of garbled that can only come from the bottom of a bottle; for another, the precious door she’s so protective of is already chipped and dented to all hell.

‘Are you really this thick or are you just too bladdered to get it through your skull?’ Louise retorts, chin jutting. Her shoulder gives another reproachful twinge as she stabs her finger in the direction of her own flat on the floor below. ‘Nice for the pair of you that you’ve worked out how to turn into a herd of elephants every bloody night, but none of us want to hear it.’

The other woman’s bloodshot eyes widen, face wheeling through an interesting spectrum of reds. ‘Yer think yer c’n stan’ there an’ tell me what ter do, do yer? DO YER? Yer little…yer stupid…fag!’

There it is. The low blow. It doesn’t send Louise reeling anymore; she’s been living with it way too long for that. Doesn’t stop it from being something that always manages to pierce the armour she’s had to build around herself, though.

She knows fine well what kind of poison everyone drips about her – muttered into the backs of their hands or hollered in her face, it’s all the same. Still, she wouldn’t have thought a bit of peace would really be so much to ask for. Another thing she must be wrong about.

So she turns and walks away, the mixture of gleeful cackles and slurred threats from behind her breaking through the brittle air. Sounds like Louise can expect egg splattered onto every inch of her own door tomorrow morning.

She just loves it when her neighbours greet her with breakfast. What a friendly, cosy little community the lot of them have here.

That flare of satisfaction darts through her veins again when she kicks her door shut. It makes the raging storm inside her audible and helps her to blot out the outside world as best she can. Who cares if someone out there might hear her? Who listens anyway?

Nobody. That’s who.

Louise stands there for a few minutes, just stands, with ringing ears. Her head gives a random little spasm in a certain direction. Maybe some twisted part of her is just instinctively drawn to it at this point.

She doesn’t want to. But as if by a magnet, her gaze is dragged over there anyway – towards the mirror hanging askew across the room. She puts it off for as long as she can, picking restlessly a pockmark on the frame. Mirrors. She hates them. All they’ve ever done is show her…this.

Her eyes zero in on everything humanly possible. From tracing every wrong curve in her face, every wrong line of her chest and shoulders and legs, and right down to marking the size and shape of her hands- God, it’s all wrong- and stupid, stupid-

The air’s too thick.

Her hands clasp themselves together over her head as if to somehow shield her. There’s no hiding from the prickling beneath her skin. Not right now. Even so, her legs begin to carry her up and down. Up and down. A bit like what’s going on inside her head.

Just a little bit extra a month. That’s all she needs. Her heart picks up speed at that thought. Nine pounds for the mirror to reflect back at her the image she’s wanted so much, for so long. And then…and then…what? What then?

Louise slowly lowers her hands, staring at the dusty specks swirling their sluggish way through the air without really seeing them. She knows how the world views her – hell, more like looks down on her. Why should she expect some injections, no matter how precious they are to her, to burst whatever nice thick bubble they’re all living in?

(So very stupid.)

But that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t.

The sofa cushions catch her as the bones seem to disappear out of her legs. She will not end up like her mother: ducking in and out of people’s lives, spending her days glued to godawful chat shows, running away at the tiniest bit of hassle. And besides…soon, there won’t be any need for tossing and turning at night over stuff like the pitch of her voice. Or the awkward hang of her clothes. Or strangers throwing her a death stare in the street and tugging their kids away from her, like she’s about to eat the little darlings alive when all she’s trying to do is get home. Soon, she’ll be tearing down the barriers they think they can obstruct her with.

She clutches the bundle of blankets against her empty stomach and clings onto that promise.

*

Stares, from every corner. They burn into the back of her head and follow her into the room until she pushes the door shut in their faces with one clumsy hand. The other just about manages to keep hold of the papers.

Those papers.

The interviewer hardly bothers to glance up at Louise. Obviously she’s just another little bump in his morning, another bit of business for him to get rid of. She slaps on a smile (and tucks her fingers in as best she can to hide the frayed ends of her nails) all the same.

He gives a vague gesture, which she can only assume is his way of directing her to take the chair across from him – one of those stiff plastic jobs that look as if they were nicked from some preschool, which is just great – without wasting his breath on her. Somehow, she plants herself down on it while miraculously avoiding actually biting her tongue in two. This place should hire her just for that, she reflects grimly.

Now here it is. The Moment, as Louise has been calling it. She blows out a shuddery breath and slackens her grip on the papers, instead sliding them across the table. One is her CV. Meagre, hastily compiled, but at least it has Louise Deegan printed on in black and white.

And the other…the other is her birth certificate. Which says something different. Different in a way she can hardly bring herself to look at.

His Highandmightyness glances over both, expression never so much as twitching. Until it does. Louise watches with a tight throat. She’s used to this: the moment where the penny drops and people cotton on to who – or what, since this one thing tends to automatically brand her as something subhuman in their eyes – they’ve got in front of them.

If only that could make it any easier. If bloody only.

He says nothing. He’s probably not allowed to. Not to her face, anyway. Something in the room still shifts, as though the table separating them has suddenly grown another twenty feet. Louise is used to that too. All those faces thinking how much better than her they are. It’s just…stupid.

She jumps through the usual hoops: her (short) employment history, why she wants to leave her current job (she thought up some generic answer ahead of time) and the rest. She needs this. So badly. Yet there he sits, not taking the trouble to nod at anything she says, letting silence hang between them as soon as he’s asked all the questions on his little script.

Then he finally sees fit to raise his head – but it’s like he’s looking straight through Louise, at the grey and ivory wallpaper behind her. Her heart throws itself against the cage of her chest. Sweat creeps across her clenched palms.

His words are cool and steady; careful, even. But they fall like a hammer blow. ‘I believe I’ve heard enough for now. If you could close the door on your way out?’

His monotone ‘thank you for thinking of us’ spiel rushes past Louise’s ears like the water she dipped her head into this morning (how else could she make any attempt at scrubbing her hair when the landlord won’t get off his arse and fix her shower?). She barely remembers to retrieve those fatal papers before she all but dives back into the waiting room, where that sea of withering stares surges higher and higher, freezing every limb so she can’t even smash her knuckles into those stupid faces, blurring her vision, smothering her nose and mouth…

*

It always circles back to this. No matter what she tries to do; no matter how many backbreaking days or sleepless nights she passes. Here she is again, slumped at the same old table while muffled thuds and drunken bawling from the floor above echo around her skull and a phone she doesn’t think will be ringing anytime soon watches her from the corner. The same old bills are spread out in front of her, cold as a death warrant. And the same old tears sting her eyes.

Stupid. So stupid.

[campdnpamerica]

meet the smarties tent!!

hi! i’m brook, im 15, i go by she/her, im pan, i’m queerdaniel on tumblr, and i’m the leader of the smarties tent 🤓! i’m also known as g8er boi when i sport my gay sk8er boi dress and some jean shorts bc confidence! im a hufflepuff, a band nerd, and an aspiring intellectual who’s in way too deep. i’ve been in the phandom for almost 3 years now, and i’ve been a campdnp admin multiple times and am the queen of tent wars, so you all better get ready, because i (and my tent of snorting candy) am ready to have FUN!

Hi!! My name is Layla. My pronouns are she/her or they/them. I'm bi (or smth honestly who knows at this point) and my tumblr handle is monachopism. I'm 17, from Boston, and I'm a makeup artist and musician. I play 5 instruments: Guitar, ukulele, bass, piano, and voice. I've been following Dan and Phil for about 7 years now. I fell out of touch with them for about 2 years until Dan uploaded his coming out video and I fell in love again. I love learning new things and meeting new people. I have a lot of passions; it can be kind of intimidating, but I promise I don't bite. I also have pretty bad ADHD and executive functioning issues so sometimes I won't do stuff/won't reply to things as often as I should, but that doesn't mean I'm not invested or interested!! Anyway, so so excited for this week. I can't wait to get to know everyone!

Hi! I’m Adriana, 19, knows how to read (barely), my pronouns are she/her and i’m bi. I’m from portugal. I’m serpensortiaxx on tumblr and I’m a potterhead (slytherin of course), adirectioner (yes, still) and a few more fandoms, besides phandom. Oh i also love marvel! I’m a math major in college and I love reading, in the moment i’m reading “They both die at the end”. I wear too much black (and I always do this pose taking pictures, I just realise when I was choosing the pic, oops). I have been watching dnp both for a few years now, they are two of my favourites youtubers! (Others are safiya, simsupply and cristine). It’s nice to meet y’all!

hey everyone! i’m hadley (they/she) and my url is starboydjh. beyond writing, dan and phil, playing video games and reading, im a big fan of all things nerdy, like Game of Thrones, The Walking Dead, Dexter and Star Wars. it works out that im in the smarties tent i guess! I’ve been watching Dan and Phil since 2008 when I found Phil on a weird sketchy Buffy server (that got deleted a month after I made my account lol) I’m a college student studying for my MFA in graphic design at the honors level and my BFA in marketing. I was a competitive irish dancer for 15 years and I’m also a proud vegan! hit me up if you want to talk about true crime, game of thrones discourse, or if you just want a nerdy friend to talk about stuff with

Hi! I'm Inês, my pronouns are she/her, I'm 19 from Portugal. My tumblr is confused-pumpkin.

I love to read, play videogames, listen to music and my dog! In fact, I like him so much that I chose a picture of him instead of myself, but I promise I'm a real person and not a 40 year old man. I'm very hyped for this camp (maybe the sugar on the candy is contributing for this) so let's have fun!!

yooo whaddup my name’s Ming Way :D she/her. i’m 18, i’m from Malaysia and i’m chinese. i’m formlessphan on tumblr. i like drawing and i also read a lot of fan fiction from whatever fandom im currently hyperfixating on. i’m currently in that limbo between college and uni, figuring out which uni to go to and having loads of free time which is hhhhHh Stressful but yay free time. gotta make my asian parents proud yknow sksksks. i’ve been in the phandom for about 4 years since 2015, so i skipped the really really bad stuff but yknow i caught up on cold tea🐸🍵 i went to singapore ii which was the best time of my life and i cried when they sang the ii song cuz i’m a nerd. i play piano, drums and a little guitar(like barely). i’m a big mcu fan and you can catch me crying about endgame any time of the day. nice to meet ya’ll!! <3

Hey you can call me Fin they/them but I don't really care. I'm ace and my Tumblr is @beanfish05 I like to draw, write and read. I can barely play the ukulele and guitar. I was in Hong Kong when dnp were in America and in America when they were in Hong Kong. and I don't know what else to put

I’m Rachel. She/her. I’m 26 from New York. I don’t remember exactly when I started watching Dan and Phil, but I think it was around 2011/2012. I love to read and write. Oh I forgot to add my tumblr is completelyuncreative2.

Hey nerds! My name’s Helen and I’m super stoked to be part of this! This is my second campdnp thing this year and the last one was... chaotic (shoutout to the Fijis), but super fun! I’m 17, I use she/her pronouns, and I’m a proud Hufflepuff. My tumblr url is panicatthechuckecheese (yes, it’s wild, I’m aware). Catch me on there spamming your dash with whatever my current special interest/hyperfixation is. I’ve been a fan of Dan and Phil since late 2014 and I’ve been to both their tours. I’m a massive space and math geek and I’m hoping to work in artificial intelligence some day and potentially become a programmer or astronaut at NASA. Can’t wait to participate in the rest of this week’s events!

[david-watts]

another tag from @salty-mccoy - thanks again!!

answer 21 questions and tag people you’d like to get to know

nickname: redboots is like. my official nickname. other ones are just variants on my name like geo or keith. even geography has been used I’ve seen 

sign: libra sun aries moon 

what I’m wearing: school uniform but like. mentally I’m wearing a black velvet jacket 

dream job: like. dream dream job is an astrophysicist and I know for a fact that isn’t happening because since I decided I wanted to be one I’ve gotten very unsmart. second dream job is a musician or something 

favourite quotes: ‘we piss anywhere, man’ (in my defense this is really fucken funny) ‘we tried to be rebellious’ (harry vanda), literally anything from doctor who 

favourite food: sushi, mainly because it’s one of the few foods I can eat and not feel sick immediately after. also like. chips  

favourite movie: don’t ask me this!! I spend my time watching the same television shows over and over again!! but the titfield thunderbolt and a hard days night, I guess

favourite sport: I play hockey. don’t particularly care about it though 

dream trip: the sixties europe and the uk... also japan 

languages: english, the remnants of japanese I learnt in high school, I can understand some german but don’t ask me to say anything I can just about grasp what I overhear from people I know who actually speak it, also three phrases in french (one of which is rude) and I really want to learn dutch but can I keep up with that now? not likely 

favourite song: hhhHHH NEVER ASK ME THIS!!! I don’t have a favourite favourite song!!! top five are down among the dead men by flash and the pan, turn! turn! turn! by the byrds, rock n roll fantasy by the kinks, mr soul by buffalo springfield and jumpin jack flash by the rolling stones. bonus mentions to shangri-la by the kinks the beginning of that song always makes me feel things, to st louis by the easybeats, and to route 66 by the pretty things live in 1973. that one’s a complete rocker 

favourite book: hitchhiker’s trilogy of five by douglas adams, the invasion of the moon 1969, and laura jackson’s biography of brian jones. they’re the only things I’ve actually read recently because reading is too hard for me nowadays 

what do I hate: are we talkin deep hatreds with moral issues because I can go very deep and this would literally turn from an ask game to a therapy session (but my tumblr’s like that anyway) but really I hate Bad Textures™ which my fellow autistics would understand. on the deeper side of things I hate bigots. though that should go without saying at this point 

random fact: the first one I thought of is like. unconfirmed. I can’t go around claiming that for it to turn out untrue. second fact is I didn’t know how to cross my eyes until I was thirteen 

describe yourself as aesthetic things: old hardcover books, vinyl records, black-and-white psychedelic artwork, art nouveau, space age graphic design and smoke 

do I get asks: used to, now I don’t wouldn’t mind a few 

other blogs: this’ll be ones I actually use and want to advertise as existing - @redbootsthetimetraveller which is my art blog. please follow and reblog my stuff it’d be very appreciated. self art plug over I also have @some-other-number which is Hell™

hogwarts house: ravenclaw!! got sorted in sydney, 2012. also saw harry vanda’s guitar and picasso’s artworks that day and I think that’s the excitement I felt in order from most to least over those things 

patronus: weasel. does this mean I’m a weasley now 

favourite characters: ford prefect, the doctor, jamie mccrimmon, bill potts, and anyone else I’ve either had a questionable attraction to or has attracted my attention 

any updates on a new fic: been trying to work on the rolling stones/doctor who crossover but I have schoolwork to do. also let me know if you would want to read a crossover between hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy and doctor who because I have four thousand words of that. I want to know if I should continue it. so I like crossovers now huh. weird turn 

tagging: @nezclaw @dandylion1966 @piecesofmybackpages @raedioh @l0w-budget and @gimmeeshelter (and of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to) 

[radsee]

You write? What kind of things do you usually write? (And may we see some!)

Oh gosh ;-; It’s not like pro writer stuff, I’m not working on a book or anything. It’s mostly for roleplays and stuff. Usually Homestuck roleplays where I’m in a SBURB session with some of my other friends! Uhh gosh, here let me pull some stuff up from an old SBURB session. It’s gonna be just different shots of the story. A lot of stuff. Read below the cut!

>Vela: Enter.

Your eyes had closed when the flash of light blinded you momentarily. Were you dead? Were you in heaven? Why did heaven smell like a dusty old attic and salty tears? You opened your eyes, immediately looking out the window. Oh yeah, you weren't in Kansas anymore. Or, Alaska, rather. This place was definitely different. You looked down at the handle in front of you. Or lack thereof. It worked? Holy shit it worked. You were right, you DID just need to wait. What a stupid challenge. Not that you were impatient. Maybe in the last seconds of certain doom you were a bit. Oh heck, you thought you were a goner for sure. And then. What did you see? The meteor that was coming towards you had. What was it? Cracked? Broke? Froze? 

 You suppose it didn't matter. You were alive and still in your attic. And your face. Well damn, it got a little wet there. You rubbed your eyes with the sleave of your jacket, pulling yourself together again. Man, how uncool to lose your cool. You stood up and took one more look outside to make sure you weren't hallucinating or anything. Maybe you were. Maybe you accidentally took acid somehow even though you're sure you don't have any drugs and have never had any drugs in your home. What dealer would come all the way to the middle of a snowy forest anyway? 

 Okay, concentrate kid. This is no time to be thinking about drug dealers. You shake off the stupid thought and head downstairs again. It was probably a good idea to check your sister's room now, to see if she was okay. Let's see...

It's no surprise the door was locked. Entering your sister's most sacred dwelling was forbidden. Not that you ever wanted to ever go in there anyway. But now you needed to. You knock on the door a bit loudly, hoping for an answer. 

None came. 

Alright, well usually when she didn't answer it meant she wasn't there. But hey, maybe she was unconscious? Maybe the quaking made her fall face first into a mirror, or maybe she accidentally stabbed herself with one of her sewing needles. Maybe she was dead. Oh god, maybe she was dead.

>Vela: Get a hold of yo damn self. 

You fool, stop thinking stuff like that. Your mind doesn't need to be clogged up with unhelpful thoughts like drug dealers and dead sisters. You knock louder. Still no answer. Come on sis, where were you? Fine, maybe she wasn't really in her room. You decided to go downstairs and check the other living areas. The living room? No. That place was just filled with those machines Gavin had put down for you. Wait where did that seizure orb go? 

Hold on hold on. One thing at a time. Sister first, seizure orb later. You made your way to the kitchen. No one there. Then the bathroom, then finally you made your way back upstairs. Last place to check, you supposed. Your parents study.

It was never in use. Not usually. But you found your sister in there sometimes, although you yourself tended to avoid it, since your sister never wanted you in there. It was locked, just as was her room. But that didn't matter. Because you, in fact, had a key. You'd swiped the key from your sister a while ago, feigning innocence and making it seem that the key was just indefinitely lost, forcing your sister to create a new one. 

You stood by the entrance to the room, contemplating. Then uncaptchalogued the key you always kept in your sylladex. Then opened the door. There were shelves upon shelves of old books here. Sometimes you thought about reading those books. But your sister forbade you. And even though you had the key. It was really just. A matter of when the right time would be to sneak in. You supposed this was as good a time as any. But upon entering the room, your sister was nowhere to be found. 

Now this is. Dismal. Your Sister was nowhere at all here. The only place you haven't truly checked is her room. And if she was there and just dead, well. Did you really want to just go in there and see that? You walked further into the study and sat down on one of the comfortable couches. Oh man. This was bad. You ran a frustrated hand through your short hair. Maybe if you waited, she'd come for you. Maybe if you stayed put, she'd find you. But... 

???: I think. The one you seek. Has left. The premises.

>Vela: Screech like a banshee and shit yourself. 

Actually, no. You were startled, but not that startled. Although you did jump a bit onto the couch, bringing your legs up. You look around. Where had that voice come from? Was it talking about your Sister? Why did it sound so. Unsettling. 

Well, that last question could be answered pretty easily. It was a mysterious voice that seemingly came from nowhere talking about what you could only assume was your Sister. since that's the only person you were actually looking for. And if that wasn't creepy, you don't know what is. You look around the dusty old study for the source. 

Vela: ...um... hey man.... listen... 

Vela: if youre like. a demon haunting me or something, i just gotta warn you right now 

Vela: i have holy water Vela: and salt 

Vela: and i will shit fury all over you with the word of the lord, dont test me okay i will blast you through all seven layers of hell 

???: ....... 

Vela: ....... 

Vela: or was it 8 layers?? 9 layers?? 

Vela: ill send you to onion hell and youll have to deal with all those layers okay im seriou-inhALE -AAAAAAA 

Your spiel about onions and layers was suddenly interrupted by your own shocked scream as you turned your head to come face to face with a ghost-like being, who seemed to have appeared so suddenly and out of nowhere. He looked to you as if he was studying you. Thinking, contemplating. His fist was under his chin and his other hand holding his elbow. Despite not having legs, his ghosty tail was positioned in a way that made him look like he was closing in on himself. Sitting in the air, very crampedly, as his shoulders were lifted and his head lowered towards you. He looked like he was in an invisible box. Or just that he was too deep in thought to care about his posture. Probably the latter.

That's not quite what had frightened you so much, though. What had really gotten to you was the fact that this ghosty figure. Was cracked. Familiarly so. Like. Like the statuette you had thrown at that seizure orb thing? A part of his face was cracked and missing, leaving him with only one eye. He looked like he could break apart at any moment. Yeah. This wasn't terrifying.

>Vela: Screech like a banshee and shit yourself now? 

Maybe not that second part, but you did screech for a good few seconds before you needed to catch your breath again. Your breathing became irregular as you felt the onset of a panic attack rising in your chest. Lord have mercy, you never really had any holy water or salt on you, you weren't prepared for this. You just BARELY escaped from being crushed by a meteor and now you were gonna die by the hands of. What- a contemplative looking demon?? 

???: ...... 

???: I think. You should. Take a moment. To maybe. Chill. 

Vela: ...Hhh-....Hhh-....hhHH-HH-hhH--HHH-HHHHHH 

???: ....I. Do not think. You are attempting. To carry out. My suggestion. At all. 

Okay, okay maybe the floaty statue ghost was right. You gotta chill. You take more regular deep breaths to try and calm yourself, closing your eyes a bit in the process. Perhaps when you open them, he'll be gone? Nope. Still there. Okay, this was fine. 

Vela: ...... 

???: ..... Have you. Chilled? 

Vela: ... y..es im. im chill. im totes chill my dude.. haaha, its all good 

???: That. Is good. I think. 

Vela: yeah haha im pretty sure its good too. 

???: ..... 

Vela: ....... 

???: ...... ........ 

Vela: ...... sooo 

???: Ah... Yes... I think. You would like. An explanation. Would you not? 

Vela: yeah uh, yeah man i think i would like an explanation 

???: ....Very. Well. 

Thinksprite: I. Am Thinksprite.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. After several seconds of staring at Thinksprite, still wondering what the fuck is happening, you slowly reached for your phone. It was the memo, and there were quite a few notifications from before that you hadn't noticed. Hm. You looked between your phone and Thinksprite. Maybe now was as good a time as any to tell everyone what's happening with you. But most importantly, to let them know you were still alive.

Vela: ... um okay im. gonna talk to my friends real quick is that okay 

Thinksprite: I think. That is alright. 

Vela: uh. yeah okay great 

You opened your phone to respond to the memo.

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>Vela: Alchemise, dawg. 

So just get a whole bunch of random items? Sure, why not. You went to the kitchen and decided to take the meat cleaver from the top cupboard. Careful now. Then you went to the living room and grabbed a random handheld mirror from a small table. It was decorated with many jewels and eloquent designs. It belonged to your sister but I'm sure she wouldn't mind you using it. You then went to the Punch Designix. Time to do a whole bunch of random shit with these cards and the totem lathe/Alchemy thing and hope for the best. 

> Meat Cleaver && Hand Mirror = Vanity Cleavage. 

Oh my god. You need to stop yourself from bursting out in stupid laughter. What a name, truly perfect for this mixture. Okay, what else could you do with this machine? 

> Vanity Cleavage || Snow Shovel = Razzle Digazzler 

Now THIS is AWESOME. Your snow shovel suddenly became so much sharper. And prettier. Now you can whack monsters in style. Your Sis would be proud.

Now what? You made a thing. Should you make more things? You're not sure you had enough uh. Power, perhaps, to create anything more. Maybe you needed to kill more of those monster dealios to get more of those sweet sweet organ remuneration. I mean those rock things that you collected earlier. 

You walk down the hall and to your room, opening the door- spEAK of the BLASTED DEMONS. There were imps everywhere. They looked. Oddly cracked and very demonic. And they were BREAKING your STUFF. Your precious equipment, oh no, oh dear, you worked SO HARD to get the money for that stuff. This wasn't going to pass. 

>Vela: Strife!

Oh yeah, you weren't having none of that. With your newly made Razzle Digazzler, you targeted the imp jumping up and down like a crazed lunatic, swiping at it sideways in an attempt to slice it's head off.

The blade smashed into the imp and soon enough, it was gone, leaving the gristy goods behind. One down. You then proceeded to fight off the other few imps. Mostly a combination of smashing, slicing and stabbing until your entire room was filled with Grist. You sighed a bit and collected the Grist laying around before deciding to take a rest on your chair at your laptop. Wowza, that was some work. 

You decided to check the memo on your laptop now. After that, you'd check up on Etna. He's been gone for a while and you wanted to make sure he was okay. Of course you should probably make sure Aqua and Gavin were okay too, but since you were Etna's Server Player, it was easier to see if he was alright.

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

You sat back on your chair, contemplating your life for a moment. Oh how did it get to this? How did this start? When will the wheels of time and fate move in your favour? Okay this was getting a little too deep. You won't get anything done just sitting there and wondering about where your life is gonna go. Gavin was too busy being a butterfinger to help build up your house. So you decided it was probably a good idea to go get more gushers for when Gavin decides to stop being a butterfinger.

You stand and pick up your Razzle Digazzler, since you had just set it on the side of your desk instead of putting it away. Then you took a step out your door. It was pretty easy to find those imps. Because they had accumulated everywhere in front of your door, in the hallway, and presumably in all the other rooms like a vile infestation.

It was time to dig some weeds. Or was the saying 'pull some weeds'? It didn't matter. You had a shovel and you were going to dig. 

>Vela: Strife!

You had been beating the crap out of any imp that you saw. Smashing, slicing, weird one-eighty kicks as you swung yourself around and put your weight on your Digazzler that held firm on the floor. You were getting the hang if this fighting stuff, even if all you've ever really done before was twirl a shovel like a ninja and hit yourself in the face a few times. You collected as much Grist as you possibly could before noticing the memo going off from your phone in your pocket. You decided to lock yourself in the bathroom so as to not be disturbed by any more imps and then opened the memo. Loud bangs suddenly came from the door of the bathroom that startled you, almost into dropping your phone into the toilet. You closed the toilet seat and sat down. 

Vela: OCCUPIED

When the banging didn't stop, you sighed. Guess you had to deal with this impatient rude dude. Can't people just wait their turn? You stood up and stretched a bit, feeling a little sore from moving around so much, but nothing you couldn't handle.

Vela: okay okayyyy ill be right ooout

You held your Digazzler firmly in your hand and went forward to open the door, ready to whack the heck out of anyone who was behind.

Except not as ready as you thought when it turned out there were three imps stacked on top of each other, creating some sort of imp Jumble game. As funny as that thought would have been, you didn't think that. Your mind froze, trying to figure out which imp to hit first. But the imp on top didn't give you enough time to come to the obvious conclusion that you should hit that one first. Almost the instant you opened the door, it jumped at you, ready to claw your eyes out.

Your heart pulsed harshly, your breath hitched sharply. Oh your beautiful face was going to get ruined. But something was off. What was it?

You sidestepped. And with your foot, you quickly opened the lid of the toilet, allowing the imp to fall in and for you to smash the toilet lid closed. You turned around, whacking the second imp that was coming towards you away and then smashed the third imp with the bottom of your shovel. Then, you stabbed the second imp before it could gather its bearings with the sharp blade of the shovel. The imp in the toilet still seemed to be alive, so you decided to tend to that. With one hand holding the stabbing weapon, you used the other to reach over and raise the toilet seat. Then slammed it down. Raised it up, slammed it down. It was almost a bit morbid, the way you were smashing this imp's head in. It finally burst into a pile of grist. The second imp had long since burst and the third imp regained its balance, only to see what had become of its friends. It began to back away. But there was a bit of a menacing look in your eyes. You raised your shovel, which told the imp that it needed to skedaddle fast. But there was no time. Somehow, you were quicker. Just too quick. You smashed down onto the imp and it burst a second later.

Man, what a wild bathroom ride. You took a moment to think before collecting the Grist. It was funny, it's like you had just enough time to do what you needed to.