#i am making a slow attempt to put art here again......

[rosarrie]

[httpsobi]

YOU...YOU CAN DO THAT? “a spider-reader x team"

WARNINGS/TAGS + sfw, they/them (gender neutral) reader addressed as spider cause if you can't tell i'm very creative, inspired by miles morales spiderman cause hes my fav, no beta we die like aunts and uncles in spiderman movies/comics, canon-typical violence (not heavily detailed).

A/N + to the anon who requested this nearly a year ago, i'm so sorry pookie the writer block put me in a author coma of sorts. despite this being a year late and trash, i hope you enjoy regardless, and i'm hoping to get more active with my writing again! enjoyyyyyy!

REQUEST + "Oops here I am again (the same anon who requested a reader with spider like abilities).. I forgot to specify 😭 but like maybe could you do idk a first meeting between the YJ and the reader (they/them btw)? Would they be creeped out with the readers' abilities or would it go like 'oh wooooow. Show us how it works!'?"

KF & AQ "Kid!" Kid Flash turns to Spider as he sprints across the buildings adjacent to them. They struggle to match his pace, but as he slows to stick his landing, they manage to catch up and yell at a simple instruction that nearly has him freezing in his tracks out of horror.

"Jump!"

"What?" They flinch at the loud screech that pierces through their earpiece. "No way- are you crazy?!"

"Just-"

Their eyes widen as they watch the monster they've been trying to lead away from the populated city centre leaps into the air behind him.

"-do it!"

Kid Flash hesitates for a moment, they can see it on his face, ready to ignore their request when the creature lets out a rumbling roar.

The ground shakes under his feet as the monstrous thing lands on the building behind him and his face drops into a comical expression.

He spares it a glance over his shoulder, and with its claws reaching out from him, he takes the leap, narrowly avoiding the sharp nails, but as he flails around in the air, weightless, he wonders-

does he really prefer concrete over nails?

He shuts his eyes, readying himself from an impact that- never comes. Rather, there's something sticking to his stomach before he's being yanked to the side, and then- up.

Instead of the smack of concrete, he hits a person, their arms wrapped around him as they roll both of them through the force.

Kid Flash, finally, shoots up and opens his eyes.

Spider and Kid Flash are sat on their asses with matching shellshocked looks, staring down at the building across of them, where that beast shares a similarly confused look as it watches the street below them.

The two turn to blink at each other, shuffling to their feet as they let out joyous cheers that sound almost like screams (poor Kaldur's ears can testify), arms wrapped around each other as they jump with like two middle aged men who's football team just scored the final point.

"Dude, we did that!"

"Right?! I thought I was gonna fall to my death but then you just-!"

"I didn't even know how I did that! It was sheer animal instinct-"

Needless to say, Kaldur was less than happy, and no more "jumping-off-the-building-and-praying" was permitted or attempted. 

Not around Kaldur anyway.

ART & SUP Superboy fails to punch through it, the cage simply folding and stretching around his fist before it pushes him, his shoulder bumping into Artemis'.

"Are we stuck in here until Robin gets back?" Artemis asks with a irritated sigh, turning to look at Spider.

They seem mystified, a mischievous glint in their eyes that she can make out through the big cartoonish eyes of the mask as they take in the strange cage.

Their hands press against the cage, palm flat as they give it a little experimental shove before she can make out their eyebrows rising.

Their palms start to spark, and the red hue of the cage begins to light up a pale blue, "Nope."

The crackles of electricity grow louder and Artemis and Superboy step back just as an awful cracking sounds and-

The cage bursts around them, Spider's sent flying back into Artemis, who's then sent back into Superboy and the three hit the floor with matching grunts.

There's a moment of silence, before Artemis is shoving Spider off of her and rolling off of Superboy herself. As the three sit themselves up slowly, Artemis can make out Spider nodding to themselves with what she thinks is pride.

"I didn't know you could do that." Superboy comments plainly as the three slowly get back to their feet.

Blinking at him, Spider wiggles their fingers at him with a smile.

"Me neither."

MG & ROB With a grunt, Robin sits up with a grimace, hand on his head as his eyes readjusts when he manages to make out Bane stood just in his eye-line.

Bane isn't looking at him though, instead the man's eyes are trained on Miss Martian floating in the air, hands outstretched out in front of her.

She's clearly too busy managing her telekinesis to notice the hulking man anger as he grabs onto one of the many large pieces of machinery lying around the abandoned factory and prepares to ambush her. 

Miss Martian, watch out!

Robin's voice rings out in her head, and M'gann whips around, eyes landing on Bane.

Before either of them can react, something is suddenly flying through the air and with a loud thwack- Bane is lying on the floor, looking a lot less angry and unconscious. Now up on his feet, Robin slowly approaches Bane, M'gann landing on his side as the pair blink down at whatever hit him.

Upon inspection, it's the barrel tank that those cement trucks carry. Empty, sure, but Robin's not surprised that guy was put to bed.

What's more surprising?

"Woooo, my aim's getting good, no?" Spider grins, bouncing on their feet as they approach the two.

"You... you threw that?" Miss Martian asks carefully.

"Duh, who else?"

"Oh. Well, thank you." She offers, a little dumbfounded but Spider doesn't seem to notice.

"How?" Spider blinks at Robin, who's been silently gawking at them as they approach.

"What do you mean, 'how'? I just threw it. "

Robin sputters at them, left eye twitching under his mask as he watches them stretch their arms out over their head with no care in the world.

"That's not- that's impossible?"

"Nuh, uh! Just grab, do a couple spins to get some speed and let go- works pretty well."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?! I'm plenty strong!"

Safe to say that Robin made them perform a couple of strength tests when they got back to the cave, and now Robin's worried Spider might not be aware of the fact that most people can't just throw around cement trucks.

all work n' writing is work of @httpsobi. i ask you please do not copy, rewrite, translate or post on other platforms without my consent.

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (3)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment, violence, swearing, self-destructive behavior ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What she had done echoed hugely throughout the university. Some looked at her in awe, some in horror wondering why she had done it, whether she really thought he was so good to put up with his awful behaviour.

"What if he keeps humiliating you? Or if he hits you?" Lysa asked as they walked together to their joint Renaissance art history class. She shrugged her shoulders, feeling light and happy.

"I'm only there for a trial, for a month. If I find I don't like it there, I'll go to another workshop. And if he does something to me, I'll report it to the police straight away." She replied briefly, taking it for granted.

If he violated her personal space in such a way she wasn't going to stand idly by, but for some reason she felt that if she respected his boundaries he wouldn't do anything to her.

She hopped up on her bed with joy when she saw an email on her inbox from Cregan informing her of a task for everyone to complete, covered by the competition Professor Targaryen had mentioned at their first meeting.

Good morning, congratulations to you once again and I am sending below the details of the project you need to complete. The first overview sketches are to be made at a scale of 1:5, only the one selected will be made at a scale of 1:1. The project includes 3 windows, each with 8 rectangular quarters. The dimension of the entire window is 10x2 m, the gaps between the quarters are 10 cm on each side. The Bishop would like these three quarters to include a representation of the Mother of God with the Child with a white dove above her, surrounded by the Twelve Aspotols. If you have any questions, I remain at your disposal Cregan

She immediately got to work, calculating the size of each of the quarters on A3 sheets of paper, thinking about how she would like to arrange it, how to show it.

She first thought of a baroque representation, with figures in motion, Our Lady in the centre, the apostles surrounding her as if they were floating towards the sky in clouds together with her.

When she had refined this design sufficiently she decided to take the opportunity that her professor was working on the other side of the room, standing, as always, with his back to her.

She approached him, stopping at an appropriate distance, and grunted quietly, wanting to let him know of her presence.

He glanced at her coolly out of the corner of his eye without ceasing his work, cutting a piece of glass in a confident, fluid motion with the loud swish of a diamond blade.

He picked it up and tapped the back of the handle with the special rounded end against the part of the glass he didn't need, and it broke at the point of cut to form exactly the shape he wanted.

"Lay it down here." He said indifferently, pointing with his chin to an empty spot on the illuminated table next to the glass he was working on.

She placed the piece of paper in front of him and stepped back, waiting anxiously for his opinion, feeling her heart pounding fast as she saw her year mate glance in their direction.

Professor Targaryen cast a quick look at what she had been preparing for the past two days, his face expressing absolutely nothing.

"Overdone and tacky. This is not a competition for the most pompous baroque stained glass. Don't show me things like that again." He said briefly, turning back to his work, and she nodded, tightening her lips and returned to her table, trying to swallow his words and not cry.

She looked at her project again and thought with regret that he was probably right.

It was contrived, as if she wanted to prove to everyone that she could create the most surprising and complicated design.

And after all, it was supposed to be simply the best.

She started to look through more classical stained glass representations from France, Germany, Spain and the UK at home. She noticed with interest that static figures depicted with just the right cuts of glass were suddenly gaining a lot of expression and she thought this was the way out.

She took inspiration for her pose of the Mother of God with the Child from Raphael's Sistine Madonna, but gave her face and hands a softer, more slender expression, her robes arranged in a Gothic manner, with strong creases and folds.

Our Lady stood in the rays of the colour of the setting sun, as if emerging from among the clouds, from the left, through the bottom of the composition, to the right the apostles emerged from behind the window frames, looking at her in silent awe, the whole thing seemed to her calm and solemn, warm.

She made another attempt to approach him. She settled on the opposite side of his table, looking at him expectantly, and he lifted his impatient gaze to her, his lips tightening.

"Are you sure you want to show me this?" He asked warningly, as if he wanted to make sure that if he saw something similar to what he had seen last time again, he would lose patience with her.

She nodded, swallowing quietly.

She really liked this project.

She laid it in front of him − the lead outline and the linear layer were painted with a pen using black ink, the colours of the glass painted with watercolours.

He stopped in mid-motion, looking at what she had drawn − she could see that he was thinking strenuously, his gaze roaming over the entire composition.

"Were you inspired by someone?" He asked coolly, and she nodded quickly.

"Yes, Raphael's Sistine Madonna." She said quickly, and he hummed under his breath, his hand involuntarily escaping to his mouth and chin, looking intensely at her drawing.

"On the left and right the composition is too filled in. You need to leave those four apostles lower, give more space to the background. Let them form an arc under the figure of Our Lady, not half a circle." He began to speak quickly, pointing his finger at the areas of the work he had in mind, and she nodded, visualising his changes, recognising with joy that, indeed, with his corrections it would look much better.

"Yes. You're right, Professor, I will." She said excitedly, looking at him with her eyes wide open, she had the feeling that happiness was literally beaming from her.

He liked it.

He looked at her for a moment, biting his bottom lip, and then lowered his gaze, returning to his work.

"That's all." He said dryly, and she nodded quickly, took her sheet of paper and applied all the corrections he had mentioned, painting and drawing the whole thing again.

Thus approved and prepared, she handed her design to Cregan, who smiled warmly at her.

"Congratulations." He said calmly, and she reciprocated his smile.

Seeing the impatient gaze of their professor looking at them from across the table she moved away from him, picked up her things and left, saying a polite goodbye, wanting to go get something to eat.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she changed into her usual clothes in the toilet − it was getting warmer outside and she was sitting in her workshop in a black t-shirt tucked into long black trousers and dying of heat.

Being already in her summer dress and trainers, she left putting her backpack on her back, heading to the canteen to buy something warm to eat and go to her wall painting class in a completely different building.

She stopped in mid-step and started to take a step back when she saw her professor standing by the coffee machine right in front of her, but she didn't make it − he took his coffee cup and bumped into her, his gaze quickly going from her top to bottom, as if he didn't recognise her for a moment.

She swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze, wanting to disappear, to hide, though she didn't actually know why.

There was something awkward about the situation, as if he had caught her in the act.

He merely hummed under his breath, taking a sip from his cup, and walked past her without a word. She looked back over her shoulder at him, swallowing loudly, wondering if he was frustrated by what he had seen, or if he would be more judgmental and unpleasant to her than usual.

He, however, remained just as indifferent to her presence, acting exactly the same as before. She figured he wasn't cruel enough to expect her to dress that way all the time in case she ran into him.

When it was time for the results of the competition to be announced, everyone gathered in the room he read out the attendance list for the first time. She took her seat at the very end, just as she had done then, waiting impatiently to hear what their professor would say.

"I presented the bishop with the projects which, in my opinion, were the best of those you gave me. He made his choice, announcing that he wanted our workshop to prepare Miss Wright's design for him. I made no objection to that decision." He said dryly, standing in front of them with his hands folded behind him, looking to the side, his voice expressing some kind of weariness, as did his gaze.

They were all silent for a moment and then her colleagues began to congratulate her loudly, Royce sitting next to her embraced her and said that she deserved it.

She looked into her professor's eyes and somehow saw a kind of discomfort and frustration at the sight of such familiarity, so she pulled away politely, covering her mouth in disbelief, unable to believe that he hadn't objected, that he had allowed her to win.

She heard him grunt loudly, shifting from foot to foot, everyone turned their gazes towards him again.

"As I mentioned, the whole workshop will split the work on this big project. Myself and Cregan will take care of the faces and hands, the third year and fourth year students will take care of the robes. The second year students will take care of the backgrounds." He said coolly and she felt a squeeze in her heart, even the other students looked at him surprised, though no one dared to speak up.

Despite the fact that her project had won, she was only supposed to deal with the background?

She lowered her gaze, feeling a squeeze in her throat, Cregan moved restlessly.

"I think if Miss Wright won, let her stay more involved and help cut the robes." He said lightly, intending to sound casual, but Professor Targaryen did not even look at him.

"No. Everyone will perform the work according to their skills. Miss Wright will prepare a 1:1 design in colour and line within a week, numbering each of the templates, and then cut them out herself. That's all, get back to work." He said lowly and left, leaving them alone.

Although she tried to keep a smile, she felt tear after tear run down her face, wiping them away quickly with her hands as her colleagues approached her, trying to comfort her.

"Don't worry. The fact that the professor wants to paint faces for your project means that he really likes it. He doesn't get involved in work that doesn't interest him." Said one of the fourth year boys.

"It's true, be happy that you won and will have an input. It will be our collective success, of the whole workshop, but remember it's your composition and your idea." Said Ned, her yearmate, and she smiled with gratitude.

Despite how their professor behaved, her colleagues showed her great support and understanding, for which she was grateful.

She decided to go along with her professor's decision and spent the next week creating a huge design, cutting a template for each piece of glass with special double-blade scissors that reduced the volume of the card by the thickness of the lead surrounds into which the glass would be embedded.

One day they were even visited by Professor Lannister himself, and hearing of her success and taking advantage of the fact that she was alone in the room, he approached her, smiling in a way she didn't know what to think of.

He was a tall man, with light hair pulled back and an elegantly trimmed beard in a pressed light-coloured shirt and smart trousers − he looked at her large project hanging on the wall behind her with a form of admiration, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know what you did to Professor Targaryen, but apparently it works. You certainly must have made a great effort." He said and looked at her curiously − she blinked, swallowing loudly, feeling subconsciously uncomfortable at the thought that he was trying to imply something.

"Please don't measure everyone by your standards, Professor." She said lightly so that for a moment he didn't understand what she meant. He glanced at her frowning his eyebrows as soon as the meaning of her words reached him, outraged.

"Are you insinuating something?" He asked roughly and she glared at him, cutting out the template with two intense, firm cuts of her scissors.

"And you, Professor?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, seeing that he swallowed loudly, embarrassed.

She looked away and saw her professor standing in the entrance, measuring Lannister with an anxious, watchful gaze. When the man saw him he became tense, as if caught in the act, and grunted.

"In any case, congratulations again and I wish you well in your future work." He said, forcing a smile, and she reciprocated his gesture, beaming with satisfaction and contentment.

When Professor Lannister left she immediately returned to her work.

She looked up surprised when she saw that for the first time her professor had approached her of his own free will, standing on the opposite side of her table, looking at the templates she had cut so far.

"What did he want?" He asked drily, and she sighed quietly, cutting open the next sheets of paper, numbering them one by one.

"To learn the secret of my success." She replied softly and glanced up at him, his intense gaze fixed on her. She swallowed loudly, feeling shivers from the way he looked at her.

"What did you tell him?" He asked expectantly, coolly, menacingly, clasping his hands on the edge of the table.

She grabbed another piece of paper, unimpressed.

"That he shouldn't measure everyone by his standards. His attitude towards his female students was one of the reasons I didn't want him to teach me." She said quietly, truthfully, wondering if she was crossing the line by saying such things about one professor to another.

She felt that he was still looking at her, although he had always avoided any eye contact, now she felt that his gaze was burning her.

"And you came to ask for a place with a professor who hit his student?" He asked seriously, lowly, and she lifted her gaze to him, feeling her heart pounding hard, sensing that this was her chance to find out what had happened.

"And did you hit her, Professor?" She asked in a trembling voice, feeling that her hands were shaking and she had to concentrate very hard to cut straight.

He was silent for a long moment.

"Yes." He said emotionlessly, indifferently, with a kind of weariness.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, for some reason afraid to look at him.

"Why did you do that?" She asked quietly, and he chuckled under his breath.

"Does it matter?" He asked, as if the answer was obvious.

"It matters if you did it for no reason or if you were trying to defend yourself against her, sir." She replied wearily, still not looking at him, feeling the atmosphere between them becoming increasingly tense. She heard him snort at her words, surprised.

"In what way could she harm me? Hit me?" He asked mockingly, but there was something in his voice that troubled her, some kind of frustration through which she knew she had hit the target, that something more had really happened there.

"Women can hurt men in all sorts of ways. It's just that they are hardly believed." She whispered and heard him swallow loudly, his chest rising and falling in anxious breaths. She looked at him uncertainly, his healthy eye was wide open.

He was silent for a long moment, she could feel that something was happening to him, his lower lip trembling slightly.

"You prefer to defend the abuser instead of the victim?" He asked in disbelief at last, the corner of his mouth twitching in what she might have called a smile if not for the look in his eyes.

"No. I just know her version of events. I wanted to hear yours before I decided what I thought of you, Professor. I thought it was only fair." She said in a trembling voice, feeling that at that moment she was truly afraid of him.

He did not answer anything for a while, looking at her with a clenched jaw and licked his lips.

"There is no excuse for me. But I don't regret what I did. What do you think about it, Miss Wright?" He asked tauntingly and she looked at him in pain, tightening her lips.

"That I feel sorry for you, Professor. Just like I feel sorry for that girl. I hope you find the decency to apologise to her one day. Excuse me, but I would like to focus on my work." She said quietly, swallowing loudly, feeling regret and disappointment.

She wanted to believe that he wasn't such a bad person, that something had happened that would give him a reason to behave like that.

However, she now knew that she could only count on him in artistic matters, and that in others he could be no authority for her.

She lowered her gaze, returning to her cutting, her hands trembling, feeling that he was still standing in the same place, that he was looking at her, she could hear his accelerated breathing.

After a moment he was gone, she heard him take his leather jacket from the back of his chair and just leave.

From then on it was she who didn't look at him and avoided him even though she saw that he glanced at her occasionally. She knew he was working on detailed sketches for the figure's faces; he was sitting at one of the desks with a sketchbook and pencil, absorbed in his thoughts.

Their gazes met suddenly and she turned away quickly, swallowing loudly.

She knew there was only one day left until the end of the month, after which he was to decide what to do next, whether he would let her stay or kick her out.

She had lost any remnants of a good opinion of him privately, however, he organised their work well and was very dedicated to it − she felt that with him and her colleagues she had learnt more about the subject of stained glass in these few weeks than she had in her entire life so far.

When the day came, however, he was sitting locked in the second room, reserved for him to paint his already-cut glass. This required a lot of concentration and it was easy to make a mistake, so no one disturbed him.

She reasoned that if he had wanted to tell her he was throwing her out, he would have done so immediately.

On her way out of class and walking down the corridor, she saw that the door to the room he was working in was ajar and she looked inside uncertainly. Whatever she thought of him, he was an outstanding painter and she was dying of curiosity as to how he depicted her figures.

Noticing that he had to leave for a moment and that the room was empty, she walked slowly inside, leaning over the illuminated table on which lay the cut, painted and patinated faces of various saints.

Looking at the faces of the apostles, she involuntarily marvelled, noticing the incredible accuracy in the proportions and the lightness with which he had given their faces expression; they seemed both emotional and calm, their faces showing excited anticipation.

Around the glasses were sketches made with pencil that he had prepared beforehand, which accurately represented what he wanted to portray.

She moved on to the face of the Virgin Mary and froze, feeling her heart pounding hard. She looked at the sketch next to it to be sure and swallowed loudly.

Mother of God had her facial features.

Then, when their gazes met, he didn't glance at her casually.

He was portraying her.

She didn't know what to make of it, at once horrified, excited, concerned, shocked. She shuddered when she heard someone's voice behind her.

"Get out." He said lowly, coldly, his gaze menacing, dark, warning. He stood in the entrance with his hands clenched into fists and she wondered how long he had been watching her.

"I'm sorry. I −"

"Get. Out." He repeated in a tone that suggested he wasn't going to say it a third time.

She lowered her head, swallowing loudly, and moved to leave on trembling legs, he, however, caught her firmly by her shoulder as she passed him and stopped her without looking at her.

"Don't ever come in here again without permission. Your painting room is next door. This is my private studio. Do you understand?" He asked in a razor-sharp tone, and she nodded quickly, unable to get anything out.

He let her go and she almost ran out, only drawing in a loud breath in the corridor, she felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest.

His Virgin Mary, the central figure of the whole composition, would have her face.

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[mixterglacia]

CONTENT WARING: Vivziepop/Stolitz Critical below the cut.

TL;DR- This episode was inconsistent to put it politely. I will not continue such niceties below the cut. You've been warned.

I'm going to start with the good. The jokes with Satan and his...therapist?? are delightful, and considering how awful this episode was, I will take it.

The bit where the rest of the imps are tormenting Stolas felt so good, but I'm aware we're meant to sympathize with poor wittle owl boi can do no wrong uwu. So that missed by a mile.

While it wasn't consistent, this episode had some stunning animation. Kudos to the team, especially those working on the shot where Stolas is lifting his cape in the song. That and the slow turns were beautiful.

Alright let's rip into this.

If the second half of this episode existed in a vacuum, it might have hit its mark. But it doesn't. This is TOTAL tonal whiplash. Completely unearned and obnoxious. Once again, we have the biggest helluverse problem:

I don't want to put in the effort to earn my drama. I am relying on the fandom to fill in the blanks so they cry.

The song is horrendously demeaning and bad. He's belittling him because he's in a place where Blitz can't fight back. You can't convince me that I should go from the tone at the start of the song to the end.

GOD i hate these two. there is nothing appealing left. They are a hollow, pathetic shell of what we were promised. this is "messy" in the way a dumpster is. This isn't some artsy spill of candy. This is trash with glitter poured all over it.

Suddenly we're getting Blitz's "truwe" feelings all dumped on us in the span of a single musical number. This is TERRIBLE. You have been so stingy with any level of development on his end that this feels like a car getting t-boned at an intersection. I guess "self indulgent" is code for "I didn't want to put in effort, i just wanted my OTP." Which is fine in a fandom sense, but this is a SHOW. You have to actually make us believe they feel like that. You have FAILED, and you're still trying to give yourself the prize? Man, you are deluded.

This was total dogshit. This was a rushed attempt to get Stolas in Blitz's house/bed. This was nothing short of MORE woobification of this dumbass owl. HE DID THIS TO HIMSELF. IF ANYTHING, THIS IS A SLAP ON THE WRIST.

He's a privileged piece of shit that is so babied by the writers that even his PUNISHMENT is nothing. So he's banished, but only for a hundred years, which is nothing to an immortal. If you're trying to bring him down to be on par with the imps, you've failed.

He's still going to get his job back in the future. He's still going to have money in the future. He's still going to have power in the future. If anything, you should have had the punishment make him be an imp for those years.

But no. You're so obsessed with him that you've centered the whole plot around HIM. Not I.M.P, not Blitz.

HIM.

This show has become so derailed at this point. Each episode is (somewhat) fine on their own, but you can't sit there and tell me they have any level of consistency. I keep thinking they're going to hit their stride, and they keep failing to do so. This is pathetic.

I'm very close to giving up on this series. Even analyzing it has become a chore. You aren't fun to watch, or make fun of. You're just mediocre.

I so desperately want these shows to have better writing. I want them to have quality and be successful at the same time. But currently we only have the latter and I fear that will wane in time if Vivienne doesn't get her head out of her ass and put in the effort I know her to be capable of. You can't keep coasting off of your pilot fans forever. I implore you to have someone work on the tone and consistency of the helluverse in the future.

Somehow Helluva makes Hotel look like high art, and that's a shame. When it was only the pilots, I truly adored Helluva. It had wonderful characters and great humor.

But here we are.

[loriannbowman]

Honkai Star Rail X Arknights | Yandere!Sunday X Sankta!Reader | Part Three

Sunday sits you down in a room that you can only compare to a conference space. You had walked through a long corridors littered with sparkling windows, golden statues. There was a room with a mini city in the centre. You didn't get a chance to look around though, Sunday was insistent that you follow close to him.

The room was round with an evenly round table, place eerily perfect in the center. Tall bookshelves that reach the ceiling cover the walls, some having library ladders next to them.

"Make yourself comfortable," Sunday says casually, running his finger tips across the top of the table as he makes his way to his seat, "We might be here for a while."

You uncomfortably shift within your seat, the cushion beneath you not as comfortable as you'd expect. Your poor ass.

"Now," Sunday interlaces his fingers, "Where should we begin, hmm? We already had polite introductions, what should we do next?"

You can't help but feel a bit uneasy; his casual demeaner is so off putting. You leg begins to bounce rapidly, a nervous tick you picked up.

You attempt to clear your throat.

"Well... let's go over what we already know," you say, trying to regain control over yourself.

You scoot a little in your chair, straightening your back and folding your hands.

"I am (Y/n), codename: Lamplight. I am a combat specialist and medical researcher in Oripathy. Uh... I'm from the region of Laterano, species: Sankta. I currently work under the association 'Rhodes Island' under the direction of Doctor Kal'tsit, Doctor Loriann, and Amiya. Uh... there's nothing really else that comes to mind... Oh! I am also highly dangerous as I am infected with Oripathy."

Sunday sits quietly, his lips lightly pursed, eyes closed as he takes in all this sudden information. All of these things... he's never heard of a single one of them. Sunday takes a deep breath before letting it go through his nose.

"Alright. Thank you for your introduction. Let us first go deeper into these statements. In return, I will explain as much and equally about me and the world around you. Does that seem fair, Lamplight?"

You nod your head, eyes slightly wide at him referring to you by your codename.

"Good. Then let's start with this 'Oripathy' you speak of. You say you're a researcher in this field while also being... infected?"

Your hands fiddle with one another, once again shifting uncomfortably in your seat. You clear your throat again.

"You just had to start there, huh...?" you say with a somber tone, "Alright, I'll tell you everything I know."

You begin to explain your home, how a powerful and dangerous material, 'Originium.' You explain the usages it has... and the horrible, deadly effects it has on the human body. You even roll up the pant sleeve to show a small collection of black crystals forming on the side of your shin. You even told him how you became infected.

"I was on a mission with Doctor Loriann when I got pierced by a Originium lump. Luckily, The Doctor was right there and was able to immediately slow and contain the growth of the Oripathy. I'm glad that I don't use Arts, or the growth would be a lot faster. You don't know just how lucky I am to have my Oripathy growth so slow. Other infected would kill to have theirs infection be so well maintained. I just hope it gives me enough time to live a somewhat fulfilling life."

Sunday's gaze during the whole time never left your form, and once you showed your leg, his eyes never stayed from the crystallin chunks that speckle your skin. He attempted at one point to touch, but you quickly grabbed his hand.

"I wouldn't, not unless you want to be infected too."

It was more of a warning than anything, of course, but you could never be too sure. You would never forgive yourself if you got an innocent person infected.

"I see... Well, let's continue our conversation, shall we?"

[bbcphile]

WIP Wednesday

I'm finally back with more MLC long fic snippets for you! FDB is carrying a wounded and barely conscious DFS on his back and is about to attempt to use qinggong to get them out of the tree DFS had collapsed in. (You can find all previous excerpts here.)

**

Slowly, making sure the additional weight on his back didn’t unbalance him, he planted one foot up on the branch and shifted his weight. He brought his other foot up to join him, clenching his core to stay stable.

He looked down at the ground below. He hadn’t exactly used qinggong from heights quite like this before, and certainly not while carrying anyone else or without the use of his arms, but presumably  it was the same idea. He cleared his throat. “Ok. Here we go! Hold on tight.”

“Wait,” a-Fei croaked in his ear.

Fang Duobing froze immediately. “What is it?” 

A-Fei shook his head, his hands fumbling until his left thumb was positioned immediately over the nailbed of his right hand’s fifth finger. Then he jabbed his own Shaochong acupoint with his thumbnail with a force that would have made anyone else cry out in pain. Fang Duobing gaped at him as a-Fei kept digging into the very sensitive point, with a faint, barely audible hiss as the stubborn man’s only reaction. 

“Wait, you were about to faint?” Fang Duobing yelped. Oh Gods, if his arms had slipped off of him while they were in the air and he’d fallen backward, a-Fei could have hit his head on a tree branch, or worse! Thank goodness he’d thought to use the acupoint to restore consciousness. “Here, scoot higher up so you’re draped more over my shoulder! That way, even if you let go, you’ll stay–”

“–Stop. Talking,” a-Fei snapped, his breathing labored. “Fix your technique. Or you’ll shatter your leg.”

“Oh.” Fang Duobing winced. Apparently there was more of an art to this than he’d realized. “What am I doing wrong?”

A-Fei’s answering sigh was so much heavier than he was. “Your qi is too slow. And the proportion is off. Put more around your feet and ankles. Start now and increase it as you approach the ground.” He took a deeper breath. “And you’ll need your arms,” he said, his scowl audible.

Fang Duobing shook his head and forced himself not to press them closer to his sides. “I can’t. You need them more!” A-Fei could already barely move from exhaustion; it was unthinkable that he could support his legs on his own. And even if he could, they’d both seen how poorly he responded to being that close. The emotional toll alone would be–

“–Do it,” a-Fei growled through clenched teeth, “or you’ll splatter us on the forest floor. Right arm first. Now.”

“Fine! But you better not fall, ok?” Fang Duobing’s voice shook slightly despite his best efforts. He slid his arm out from under a-Fei’s thigh and lifted it far enough away that a-Fei wouldn’t bump it as he changed position but close enough that he could catch his leg if a-Fei didn’t have the strength after all.

Slowly, jerkily, and with less grace than a-Fei had ever before exhibited, a-Fei extended his leg and wrapped it tightly around Fang Duobing’s waist. 

Fang Duobing stayed as still as possible, hardly daring to breathe.

A-Fei swallowed and dug his thumb harder into his Shaochong acupoint. “Left,” he gritted out. 

They repeated the process, a-Fei’s foot, then leg, then entire body were trembling from the effort by the time he was fully in position. If a-Fei was breathing, it was too shallow for him to feel, despite their proximity.

Fang Duobing swallowed. “You’re sure about this?” He tried desperately to ignore the fact that a-Fei’s groin was once again pressed tight against his lower back. This was absolutely not the time to–

“–Hurry and fix your qi, brat,” a-Fei rasped, his voice shaking almost as hard as the rest of him.

“I’m trying!” Fang Duobing pushed his worry and other feelings for a-Fei aside as much as he could and closed his eyes. He imagined his qi spinning faster and faster through him, on separating some to cushion his feet, ankles, and knees while the rest kept circulating.

“Arms,” a-Fei prompted, and Fang Duobing stuck his arms out to his side, feeling the qi race through his fingertips, ready to slow his descent.

“Now,” a-Fei snapped, and Fang Duobing opened his eyes, shifted his weight, and stepped off the branch.

Time slowed. Fang Duobing felt it drag against him like the air currents they flew through. A-Fei hissed other instructions at him–faster qi, lean back, not that far, bend your knees–as the forest floor grew before them. 

“Palms,” a-Fei growled in his ear. 

Fang Duobing sent out a large pulse of qi from each palm straight at the ground, just before his soles hit the floor. 

His ankles and knees twinged slightly with the impact, but that was all.

They were safe, because a-Fei had helped.

A-Fei, who had been on the verge of fainting, who had just had a qi deviation, and a panic attack, and who could barely move or speak moments earlier because of whatever horrors had haunted his mind, had used a resuscitation maneuver to force himself to save them yet again.

It wasn’t fair. A-Fei deserved rest, not having to push himself to and past his breaking point once more.

Maybe, now that they were back on solid ground, and would soon be back at Lotus Tower, they could give him the safety and comfort he needed.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d accept some of it.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/19/2024

no silly little witticism here this week! just heartfelt thanks for helping me pay my rent this month :)

listening

absolutely wild pick from last week's spotify weekly recommenced, Things Will Fall Apart by Louis Cole feat the Metropole Orkest and conductor Jules Buckley. it's been on loop all week for me and im a little sad it won't pop up in my spotify wrapped

when you make a dance pop song with a full orchestra backing, it has a really interesting effect somewhere between Golden Age of Hollywood swashbuckling film score and marching band?

Yes, understood Things will fall apart just likе they should This little shred was good Don't think it through Things will fall apart, they always do At least, something's always true

the syllables are so choppy they don’t even register to me as English at first, i was fully willing to believe this was German for the first couple lines. like @dying-suffering-french-stalkers, i have a deep fondness for works about putting an era to bed. or works focused on the sunsets of things, or one of the last living practitioners of an art. putting the chairs up on the table, sweeping the floors, and turning the lights out and locking the door behind you. this song has that sort of quiet post-wake-party remembrance.

however once you think the song has ended but it keeps going, you can turn it off. you don’t really need that extra minute and a half of strings and light vocalizations.

Lately, Louis Cole has been doing live shows with the Netherlands’ Metropole Orkest and conductor Jules Buckley. Cole recorded nothing with the ensemble. In a press release, he says, “Sometimes, when I’m mixing my own solo stuff, I’ll feel like a song needs a little magical dust. But mixing an entire orchestra and your own rhythm section, there’s so much human energy! You don’t have to add any magic. It was there the whole time.”

i don’t hear many pop songs this millennium with a full orchestral backing. perhaps i need to look harder. unfortunately spotify took this extreme interest in this song as a newfound extreme interest in electroswing, which is really not what this song is. i hope this artist does more albums like this so they can wear grooves in my brain

-

reading

very hard to focus on anything book length this week. some depressing local news (my local paper's links do Not want to preview nicely here, which is annoying:

At a city council meeting in October, district Vice President Dan Joyce told council members that the management district was not attempting to "criminalize homelessness." The city’s civility ordinance bans people from sitting, lying down or placing personal items or bedding on sidewalks from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m.

cool piece from our pals at 404 Media. i am So fascinated by crime infrastructure

Based on interviews with malware developers, hackers who use the stolen credentials, and a review of manuals that tell new recruits how to spread the malware, 404 Media has mapped out this industry. Its end result is that a download of an innocent-looking piece of software by a single person can lead to a data breach at a multibillion-dollar company, putting Google and other tech giants in an ever-escalating cat-and-mouse game with the malware developers to keep people and companies safe.

(via longreads) my interest in how and why systems fail extends to invasive species management. plus i used to live in florida just above the everglades and these fuckers (the snakes) were everywhere

[I]magine thousands upon thousands of pythons, their slow digestion transforming each corpse into python muscle and fat. Unaided, Florida’s native wildlife doesn’t stand a chance. “That’s what I think about with every python I catch,” Kalil says. “What it ate to get this big, and the lives I’m saving by removing it.” Biologists are taking a multipronged approach to the issue. They have experimented with enlisting dogs to sniff out both pythons and nests—a technique that has proved difficult in such hot weather and inhospitable landscapes. Ongoing projects use telemetry to track pythons to find “associate snakes.” Researchers use drones, go out in airboats, or even take to helicopters to locate their subjects in the interiors of the Everglades. Always, agencies and individuals are looking for the next best methods. “But for now, the python contractor program is the most successful management effort in the history of the issue,” Kirkland says. “We’re capturing more and more—something that is indicative of the python population out there and indicative of us getting better at what we do.”

-

watching

continuing noirvember, watched hitchcock's Notorious to see if i still dislike hitchcock. the answer is yes. there are bond girls and there are hitchcock girls, and not that bond girls are paragons of female agency in film, but hitchcock girls are mostly fluttering little pathetic things. a scrap of agency they showed in the beginning of the film becomes a running joke and something their noses are rubbed in for the rest of the film. not for me!

patrick mcgoohan is leading me into some real dad-ass movies. Ice Station Zebra (1968, dir. Sturges) is a real you're stuck at home sick with your dad and it's on TV for the whole afternoon kind of movie. they truly do not make two and a half cold war submarine espionage films in super panavision with an overture, intermission, and interact music any more. i get why howard hughes was really obsessed with this one. it is a suspense film, but full of people competently going about their business, which i find oddly comforting.

unfortunately i do not feel this really needed to be two and a half hours long. the loving closeups of sub interiors and instrumentation really did keep me amused, though. despite how cluttered every shot is with actors, there is tremendous clarity of purpose and motion with the camera movement. just a really technically brilliant film.

how similar the russian and american control rooms and instrumentation were made me chortle. ties nicely into a little diatribe mcgoohan goes on much later in the film, "The Russians put our camera made by our German scientists and your film made by your German scientists into their satellite made by their German scientists." funny and darkly true! every allied nation had some sort of Operation Paperclip going on! mcgoohan is the focus of every scene he's in, as a spy who is really hanging on by the last remaining shreds of his fingernails.

i had a good time with it, but one of many cold war suspense films im glad exist in the world but don't necessarily need to see again. it might join Escape from New York as a film i put on when im very sick though.

-

playing

this pc needs some sort of replacement something, bc it has a really persistent overheating problem. it only tolerates powerwasher simulator on the lowest possible settings and genshin impact on basically mobile settings. it does not even want to run new vegas. i popped my head out of goodsprings to look out over the desert at the Strip and it said no thank you! too many polygons! naptime!

speaking of genshin, major update this week and new character i will be pulling for. she has a sister who died in the last patch, which i do Not care for as someone with a beloved little sister, but her moveset and skills are unique so far in the game. i feel like her skills are little too complicated for me to fully take advantage of with my "hit enemy very hard until he is dead" playstyle but she has a limited flight ability that will genuinely be very useful for exploration.

if i do not get her when i hit pity on the banner i won't bother pulling another nine times or whatever, bc the next patch has a character i really desperately want and i am saving for her

-

making

the local crew is all getting art this year, bc i already have bristol board and a selection of small frames and zero budget. people who have pets are So easy to get gifts for bc u can simply get them stuff for their pet or that looks like their pet. way less gray cat than black cat merch in the world tho

aiming to send out international holiday cards by the end of the week, and canadian cards by american thanksgiving. the rest of you they'll get there when they get there ok

[dexdpup]

So I often spend a lot of time dabbling into the fine art of crying uncontrollably over Music. For years these have mostly been selective songs, collected from various discographies from artists all over the World.

But Damn it holy fucking shit Sleep Token is not good for my poor tear ducts.

It started about two years ago, when I randomly overheard my then best friend talking to a friend about this song they just discovered, and how it "made them feel unholy things".

This song, was Jaws.

I didn't give much thought to it initially, but decided to check it out anyways. I was doing a lot of rp at the time, and while writing a 4000 word essay on a character stabbing another violently I had put on Jaws as background noise. Aaaand than the Chorus happened:

Show me those pretty white jaws

Show me where the delicate stops

Show me what you've lost

And why you're always taking it slow

Show me what wounds you've got show me love

So I don't know about you, but this didn't make me horny, it broke me. I am of the conviction that Trauma makes you get a perspective on life, that either elevates experiencing emotion, or completely destroys it. When I heard Vessel sing these words I straight up froze in my seat and stopped writing.

I just listened. For... An hour? The same song in a loop. To me this was a song about a person attempting to rebuild another from the trauma they experienced - most likely sexual. A song of a human being falling for the deep rooted scars left in the fragile minds of a stranger.

The person who is traumatized is coping with it in their own ways, the "eyes of a predator" not referring to lust, but the natural desire to protect oneself.

When vessel talks of "prey unattended" he is referring to the victim left behind by their abuser. But this lyrical Persona Vessel represents here is in no way a saviour in the sense of trying to heal their muse, it feels more like someone trying to capitalize on the trauma to further their own cause.

Now I do not claim that my interpretation of the song is right or better than another. But it is how I heard it, that day. That's what my ears picked up and my brain read into it.

And this... Hit. Like a truck. I was sucked into Sundowning and TPWBYT (with TMBTE not released yet) and didn't stop listening for many hours. I cried my eyes out multiple times, Atlantic, Alkaline, Bloodsport, Higher, Levitate, the Love you want. All of this was something i hadn't yet experienced.

Fast forward around half a year and its TMBTE time! The album released and my emotions were shattered by Chokehold and Are you really ok. I sobbed a bit, but I wasn't hit as hard as back when I first listened. And than, Ascencionism happened.

It broke me.

I was crying like I never had before, releasing more emotion than I thought I had in me. Another song that I instantly, deeply connected to my trauma. A hatred for my abuser I still find whenever I hear vessel scream:

You're gonna watch me ascend

A desire to payback, but most importantly the desire to disappear into nothingness. I was numb for the Title track. It was only when Euclid ended that I realised I had found the band that I would connect my mental health to all over again. Just like 2012 when I first discovered MCR and Fallout Boy. I was stumped and honestly... Happy.

Fast forward another year, I am writing this about a week after their show in Nürnberg. My second time there and I can inly say one thing.

I worship Sleep.

[starglasszodiac]

Hey everybody, I am thrilled to tell you that Starglass Zodiac is now launched! And on the project’s 9th anniversary too :D

I'll put more of my ramblings under the cut below, but here's the gist of what you need to know:

The first two pages are now live HERE

The next page is scheduled for July 22nd, 2024

The dates for future page uploads will be announced on this blog and on the site's homepage as each new page is released

The upload schedule itself will be determined at a later date, as I’m going at my own pace for the time being

The comic site is self-made with only my basic knowledge of website coding, so I will be improving it gradually over time

A cover for Chapter 1 is in the works, so stay tuned for that!

As for this blog specifically, I have the following planned in the coming days:

Updating the pinned post with this new info

General cleanup and updates to old posts, the tag system/list, links, pages, etc.

Checking for posts I forgot to reblog here and tagging them

I will be tagging the majority of prior posts/art with the tag #SGZ spoilers so you can blacklist it if you want to go into the comic completely blind. Note that some posts with this tag may not actually be spoilers anymore depending on how the project/story lore has changed since making them, but better to cover all the bases anyway

I'll decide soon how I will reblog the update posts, as I can do so on either my art blog @akysi or my personal blog @sweet-star-cookie, but I doubt I'll do all three to avoid it getting excessive for those who follow all three (thank you for that! <3)

As I said above, I’m going at my own pace with this comic to ensure that I’m satisfied with every page at my current skill level. That will likely mean a slow pace for uploads, and I am sorry for that ^^’ But, I’ve had this as a passion project for a long time and I want to give it the time and attention it deserves.

I’ve also realized recently that I’ve been subconsciously holding myself to arbitrary rules about how and when I distribute my work when it comes to comics, especially with prior attempts to launch this one. Knowing I don’t actually have to do that has been quite freeing, and I’m excited to go at my own pace like I do with my other work. I do hope to increase the frequency of uploads later on of course, with the ultimate goal being multiple times a week, but trying to do that right away just isn’t feasible right now. Regardless, I am SUPER excited to finally be doing this again, no matter how long it takes!

With having this project for nearly a decade, working on it has gotten me through many, many tough times. The amount of support and enthusiasm that I’ve received from all you lovely people over the years has been nothing short of heartwarming, so thank you all so much <3 I hope you like what you see, and look forward to more. :D Thanks for reading, friends!

[recurring-polynya]

Writing/Art Update 6.4.2024

Unfortunately, this week, I am stuck in Everything is Slow and Probably Isn't Even Worth It land.

I've been fighting this story for two weeks now, and it just doesn't want to...be a story. I have rewritten it from scratch at least twice now, including swapping perspectives, and I haven't even gotten to the fight scene parts yet. Furthermore, it's such an incredibly niche concept, like I am really down in the sauce on this one. On the other hand, it is my sauce, like this is of interest to me, so I don't want to give up on it. On the other hand, sometimes it's like--if I am the primary audience for this, and it's causing me a lot of grief, is it really worth it? I don't know.

I am also working on an art project that is, again, primarily of interest to me, which is to say, I am attempting to redraw this loving pan over a bunch of goony-ass lieutenants. I generally draw people pretty closely on model, and I'm attempting to do a lot more stylization. I've been working on it at roughly a-lieuentant-a-day, and I am currently 5 lieutenants in, 6 to go. I am...not good at this. I mean! I think this is a good exercise for my art brain, etc etc, but it's moderately painstaking and I also kinda suck at this and I'm not entirely sure I will want to show off my efforts when I'm done.

Anyway, everything is hard right now, and I am very tired. I think that I'm not sick anymore, but it lingered so long, it's really be hard to tell if it's fully gone or not. I have been reading a lot lately, too (in part because of being sick). I have been very lucky to have read, like, 3 very good books in a row, although the one after that, I did not care for. I have two library holds due to come in shortly, so I'm trying not to start a new one until they get here. Also, while reading is good for me and I am in favor of reading, reading is a lot easier than writing, so I'm trying to push myself thru this writing thing before I get into another book, as well.

I don't knooooooooooow. Maybe I should just put this story aside and if I pick it up again later, I'll have more energy for it. I'm afraid, though, that I've got it all loaded into my RAM at the moment and I don't want to lose that. I'm probably also fooling myself that trying to write something else would be easier or more fun--I think I might just be having a writing-is-hard time. School is going to be out shortly, and it's going to be even harder to do stuff, which makes me extra mad that I am too stupid and lazy to actually take advantage of the time that is available to me, but that's just how it is sometimes.

Oh, Damage History is over now. I should probably do some sort of wrap-up post and change my pinned. I was going to do that today, but I'm not sure I feel up to it. Later this week, hopefully!

[elgatt0]

@dragkbluire OMG how I love this art, it inspired me to write this lil horror fic :3

I hope you enjoy ^^

Ao3

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

Warning for horror

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

Legend pov

“A little louder, please. I don’t think the guests below have woken up yet.”

Breathing stops with his agitated footsteps. Cold sweat runs down his spine, and the bastard has the audacity to look at me surprised that I woke up. I could not even sleep to begin with-- a horse with iron hooves is quieter.

“I thought you were sleeping…” I feel my neck crack as I turn my head to face him. My eyes bore into his with all the anger and disbelief that exhaustion allows me. No words need to be said: the “really?!” is so obvious in my eyes that I can almost feel the pride emanating from the old man, even though he is rooms away.

“I’m sorry…” he whispers, looking away embarrassed, and returns to sit on the bed on the opposite side of the room. I turn my eyes to the ceiling, silently asking the gods what I did to deserve this. I hear him breathing slowly in a futile attempt to calm down, but I know this moment of peace won’t last. After all, it’s the fifth time he’s done this, and the night has barely begun.

Why so much fuss? Was he worried about others? It would make sense for the damn mother cucco that he is, but I feel like that’s not it. Since we got here, he has not really seemed interested in anyone… not even himself. It was like the smith said-- he seemed a bit off, so much so that he did not even take off his layers to rest. The battle is over…

Or maybe not.

Now it is my turn to breathe to calm down. If I opened my mouth at this moment, nothing good would come out. I close my eyes. The idea of trying to sleep and ignoring everything is tempting, but worry screams in my head and hammers at my heart. I feel like something very bad is going to happen, and the guilt would never let me rest.

A strange silence reigned in the room. Perhaps it had only been a few seconds, but the stagnation of sound distorted time, giving the sensation that hours had passed. I sit up slowly: the creaking of the bed makes time and sound flow again. I don’t look at him, not yet, but I feel like my action has made him uneasy again. But why?

"Rancher…"

"No"

"Common man…"

"It is none of your business…"

“Then I will make it be”

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I close my eyes once again. My bones ache, my wounds burn, bruises marking both body and soul are my souvenirs from today’s battle. Every movement is slow, every word heavy on my tongue, and the desperation to rest grows stronger, but I can not give up, not yet.

Guided by courage, I slowly turn in bed, placing my feet on the floor, facing him once again. But apparently, he finds the floor more fascinating at the moment.

“Please… no… not now,” my mood sours as usual. I think about responding, but I realize that these words were not directed at me. It is as if he is talking to himself, begging… for something… or someone. Once again, I am not here, not for him.

A wave of worry extinguishes the flames of exhaustion. He is not well, and I do not know how to help. I am not good at comforting people… My words are deaf to him... it is agonizing. I feel useless, and my heroic nature hates that. I want to comfort him with my touch, but a primitive instinct warns me: stay away. The only thing I can do now is wait, an uncertain and painful wait, as I watch my companion, my brother, succumb to the darkness in his mind.

I should get off my ass and go warn the others...it is the right thing to do, yes. The champion knows him better than I do, they have a story… or will have one? Time travel be damned.

"I-"

Creaks, whispers, and growls put me in a stupor, freezing my eyes on the rancher in front of me… or what should be him:

Embracing himself, nails cruelly dug into his arms, the crack of breaking bones harmonized in horror with the grinding of teeth that no longer seemed Hylian.

Black pulses emanated, taking with them the blood and soul, turning the skin pale, stealing the light that once had lived there.

The bones ripped through the skin, becoming more prominent, demonic, the thin line between man and beast slowly disappeared before me.

His empty eyes stared into mine, full of despair.

He finally gets up, his steps silent and calculated, in contrast to the heavy and noisy ones from before.

Slowly he advances, his eyes never leaving me, the melodic and morbid whispers getting louder the closer he gets. The temperature drops, my breathing becomes heavy, and the whispers are now deafening. I can not move…

Is cold…

Stop…

I can't move...

I can't move

I can't move I can't move

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I CAN NOT MOVE

please…

someone…

help…me…

The mention of a smile is the last thing registered in my mind before I fall into darkness.

[justarandomsimp77]

SOUTH PARK DREAMWORLD COMIC #2

[A cold breeze ran up Butter's shoulder, instantly making him shiver awake.]

[His eyes widened at the sudden darkness, the area was almost a pitch black to him making Butter's almost believe that his eyes were still shut]

[Butters takes a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. Butters knows that he wasn't going to be calm, but it was worth a try]

[His shoulders were still tight and his muscles were tense.]

[Butter's head jerks around in confusion]

Butters: "Golly! It sure is dark in here!"

[Butters says, his voice slightly trembling.]

[Butters tries to not sound scared, but his shaking body just stresses him more]

[Butters rubs his eyes before noticing strange gray outlines in the darkness and a faint glowing green light emitting from the shadows]

[Butters, thinking that it was something that could help, walks closer his eyes shimmering with interest]

[Butters is slightly put off by the strange things floating around]

[Butters wasn't a fan or the floating eyes, and that strange apple and flower freaked him out]

[Butters look at the floating balls, happy faces, eyes, flowers, mushrooms, letters, teeth, table and blan rainbow before seeing the strange green glow]

[The green glow came from a strange green glow stick floating near the wooden table with the word 'Muffin' and 'JARS' engraved into the side of it]

[Butters reaches out for the glow stick, his shaky hands grasping so tightly around the glow stick his knuckles turn a pale shade of white]

[A strange feeling starts to sink into Butter's gut, and he held onto his only source of light with his life]

[Butters couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched, but he focuses on the glow stick in his hands]

Butters: "A glow stick?"

[Butters mutters to himself, looking down at the item in his hands with curiosity]

Butters: "W-well I guess this can help."

[Butters says attempting to see the silver lining of things]

CRASH!!

[The sudden sound makes Butter's nearly have a heart attack as he yelps out in shock]

[His body starts shaking like a leaf, and his eyes were wide open. His head jerks around desperately trying to find or at least be aware of what the sound was]

[Suddenly... He saw...]

[Butters dropped the glow stick, letting it roll to the other 'persons' feet]

Butters: "LE-!?"

[Butters starts to say as he takes a step back]

[Alas Butters was too late and before he could do anything]

CRACK!!!

[A stick was thrown though Butter's skull, and it takes a few moments until a sudden burst of pain runs though Butter's shaking body]

[Butter's screams out in pain, his breathing slowly becoming more difficult as his throat starts to close]

[Blood pours out of Butter's skull like a river, as his limp and lifeless body tumbles down to the ground]

[What killed Butters slowly trails its metal hand down his dead bodies back, slowly peeling open the flesh with a slow wet ripping sound]

[The being rips away and tears off Butters shirt and flesh, showing the bloody tissues underneath the flesh.]

[The 'persons' hands grasp onto his spine, the small sharp parts of the bone digging into its fingers]

[It rips out Butter's back with a loud sickening sound, watching as Butter's blood gushes out]

[The being makes a satisfied smile before finishing up devouring his body]

[They walk over and their bloody Sharon finger slowly traces an X over the photo]

???: "oNe DoWn."

[the being says as it scratches out the picture of Butters even more, making it almost impossible to make out the image of his face now]

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💘💘💝💝💖💖💗💗💓💓💞💞💕💕♥️♥️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥Thank you all so much for reading! I am so grateful for you all, and I'm so glad that you guys love these comics just as much as me! If you guys have any art tips, or anything you want to tell me do not hesitate to ask my profile or just leave a comment on this post! Thank you once again, and that was comic #2 of South Park DreamWorld! Or SPDW for short! Make sure to read the other comics, just by typing in 'South Park DreamWorld~' on the search of this app! Anyways have a lovely day!!! ❤️❤️🧡🧡💛💛💚💚🩵🩵💙💙💜💜🩷🩷🤍🤍🩶🩶

[fattybattysblog]

Friend, Please (Chapter 4)

Fandom: Kirby/Kirby Right Back At Ya!

Gen | Teen

Characters: Meta Knight, Dark Meta Knight, Velka | Arcta Knight (OC)

Summary: They should be used to desperate people making horrible decisions by now, but somehow it always goes too far before anyone does anything about it. A person fell prey to the empty promises of dark, powerful hearts to become Arcta Knight. As they make their mark on Dreamland, Meta Knight grows anxious about the encroaching danger and leaves suddenly to prepare for a duel like no other.

AO3 | SqWA | Quotev

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Swordfighting, Original Villain Character, Gijinka Kirby Characters

@ocappreciationtag

(Cover art done by Dean, edited together by me)

Evacuating Dreamland

Meta Knight’s frantic flapping alerted the villagers to his return. Most were confused by his anxious mannerisms, the rest greeted him as if there was nothing wrong. Right on cue, Tiff and Tuff ran out to greet him from where they stayed put in the square by the fountain. Tiff’s bright, relieved smile faded slowly as she and her brother approached Meta Knight. He acknowledged them with a silent nod but he didn’t slow down to speak with them, hurrying into Castle Dedede to speak with the king himself. The noble children followed close behind him to hear what was going on.

Dedede and Escargoon were plotting away again, practically ignoring Meta Knight’s approach and curt bow to get the formalities out of the way.

“My King.” Meta Knight attempted to get Dedede’s attention respectfully, but the rotund man ignored him in favor of discussing some scheme against the innocent to increase his own power. The situation was far too dire for Meta Knight to stand aside while they ignored him. He stood and cleared his throat, speaking louder.

“There is a situation we need to confront, King Dedede.”

“Ohoho! Did Kirby finally do something to get you on our side?”

“No that’s not w-”

“Escargoon, call NME. We could get Meta to pitch in with us and get an insane monster to pit against Kirby!” Dedede was exceedingly excited at the prospect of Meta Knight scheming with them, but this wasn’t that day. Nor would it ever be. Meta Knight shook his head and attempted to recapture Dedede’s attention to no avail. The king and the advisor turned to the large screen that rose from the floor, reaching out to the NME representative they contacted far too often. It rang and rang but no one responded. Escargoon’s devious smile fell, but Dedede continued his attempt only to receive the low dial tone and a “service not available” screen.

“You think they’d have better customer service…” Escargoon joked rather unenthused.

“Yeah! I am their best customer. I have brand loyalty!” Dedede complained.

“And you think a brand would care about you?” Escargoon snickered. They bickered and jeered with each other. Meta Knight was beginning to lose his cool. He just wanted to protect the people of Dreamland, but the King wasn’t listening to him. The people had little time. Arcta Knight had already gotten so close and they were lucky she was called away. Who was to say she would be called away again? She wiped out the whole guard in a night; it wouldn’t take long to demolish an untrained city of civilians. His grip tightened. His gauntlet creaking with force.

“Dedede!”

The pair fell silent and looked back at the fed up star warrior. He finally had their full attention. He tried being respectful, but now was not the time to let himself be walked over.

“I will not stand idly by while Cappy Town and all of Dreamland is threatened. Your entire guard is gone. Dead. And the Knight responsible will return to finish the job. We need to evacuate,” Meta Knight placed himself in front of the screen to keep them from getting back to it, “the Halberd can carry nearly every citizen here and we can head to a nearby planet. I don’t know how long we would have to stay there, but the remaining Star Warriors could attempt to drive her away.” The entire room watched him intently as he spoke. Dedede and his advisor murmured quietly, realizing the severity of the situation. This wasn’t some play-fight like the ones they usually encountered. Renting some two bit creatures to train and tease Kirby with. No, they didn’t summon this thing and now there was more than a little Warrior in training could handle. There was blood, death. This was serious.

“Escargoon, take the soldier in recovery and get some images of the Knight he encountered drawn. We’ll contact the bounty hunters to hold them back as long as we can. Meta Knight, can I trust you to get everyone on your ship?” Dedede almost never had to whip out his “true ruler” face, but he knew how to use it. Escargoon nodded and hurried down the hall to infirm. Meta Knight bowed and stepped past the throne to the hangar. Tiff and Tuff came out of their hiding place to join the conversation, racing after Meta Knight before he could leave.

“Wait! What about us? We could go grab Kirby and he c-”

“Kirby is a child, Lady Tiff. I don’t think I could forgive myself if he became a part of this. Just grab your parents and bring them to the hangar. We need to get everyone on board.” Meta Knight spoke sternly with the noble children. They seemed disheartened, trying to argue their point. Meta Knight’s solid gaze silenced them and urged them to follow his advice.

-----

The bounty was announced in the back channels and the town was quickly informed of the situation at hand. They ushered the townspeople into the Halberd under the supervision of Escargoon and Captain Vul. King Dedede grimaced as he looked out from the castle tower at the dead, gray, frosted forest at the edge of Dreamland. Meta Knight stood beside him, his cape clasped around him and fluttering in the wind. They were quiet, studying the damage at their safe distance. It seemed this was starting to sink in for the King.

“All of that from one person?” Dedede asked, folding his arms with a slight groan.

“A single Knight,” Meta Knight nodded solemnly, “I don’t believe she is a true Star Warrior though.” That didn’t sit well with either of them, but it also seemed that Dedede didn’t quite understand.

“Do you think you can handle her?” He looked down at Meta Knight with genuine concern in his eyes. Meta Knight shook his head. He wasn’t going to lie. He was disciplined and skilled, but this power Arcta had was unnatural. He would have to find out where she got it before he could hope to best her. Though that did give him an idea.

“Do you know where NME is located?” The question came, seemingly, out of nowhere. Dedede was taken aback by it before he looked aside in thought and tried to recall any information he might have.

“The monsters don’t exactly come with return labels…”

“How did you hear about them?”

“Well… we hacked into a nearby satellite to get movies,” Dedede laughed nervously at that admission, “they just kinda broadcasted their services during the commercials and we let them set up shop in the castle. Escargoon suggested it would help supplement our army on any short notice, I think. I’m sure that’s why we started working with them.” King Dedede explained. He had lost a lot of the reasons and details to time and didn’t worry about keeping receipts at the beginning. Meta Knight grimaced and shook his head. If that’s all he had to work on, then it was what he’d take.

“Try to stay alive.” Dedede grumbled as he turned away and descended from the tower. Meta Knight glanced over his shoulder after him. He would remain in the tower while the town filled his ship and prepared to leave. He felt he couldn’t step down until they were safely gone. Just in case Arcta decided to show up.

The air was thick with foreboding and Cappy Town was so empty. The Knight’s voice echoed in Meta’s head as he stared off towards the horizon. Why was it so familiar? She couldn’t have been a Knight he had met before because she named herself right there. There was something he just couldn’t put his finger on. Something that made his chest tighten with sadness.

He just wanted to know why.

He would have to fight her properly. To break that mask and see who he was really dealing with. So many steps needed to be dealt with before he could even get to that point. Meta’s gaze started to drift downward to the town, to the empty streets.

Putting a bounty out will only get more people killed. Not every hunter is particularly trained and they might get cocky enough to try and deal with her themselves. He wanted to limit her body count. That added an urgency to his series of tasks.

That did remind him of the other corrupted warriors he and Kirby had come across before. If he posed Arcta as some kind of challenge he could probably get them to join this cause despite not having a stake in it. Kirby’s connections would be very helpful there. As far as Meta knew, he was the only one that could contact distant enemies like that.

Would Dark Meta still be alive? Could he trust Marx or Magolor at all?

“Meta Knight?” There was a tug on his cape that took him out of his thoughts. He turned slightly and looked down at Tiff and Tuff. They appeared close to crying, their eyes big and watery. Sighing and kneeling to meet their eye levels, Meta Knight spared some time for them before their escape.

“We’ll see you again, right?” Tuff asked.

“You’ll stay safe?” Tiff asked. Meta Knight frowned. He didn’t want to lie to them, but there was no way he could possibly guarantee either of those. He took a moment to figure out his words. A pause that Tiff picked up on and visibly wilted towards.

“I’ll try to. I promise.” Meta Knight said, nodding to them. That was the best he could offer them. The pair looked at each other, tears beginning to spill down their cheeks. They were losing their home and their entire planet. Meta was surprised they were strong enough to hold back for this long.

The twins threw their arms around Meta’s neck and pleaded for him to go with them. He assumed they were scared to leave and wanted the last soldier in the kingdom to escort them to their new home and comfort them. Normally he would. But he couldn’t do that. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do. Removing them would only make their anxiety worse but letting them stay would hinder their evacuation. He returned their embrace, holding them while their pleas and sobs quieted into small whimpers and sniffles.

“You two won’t be alone. You have your parents. You have your friends. You’ll have Kirby too.” Meta Knight said, his voice soft and sweet. He patted their backs and attempted to stand, but they weren’t ready to let go yet.

“We don’t want to leave you behind.” Tiff sniffed.

“Everyone’s safety is more important to me. I’m sorry. But it’s time for you two to go.” Meta Knight picked them up despite their protests and unfurled his wings from his cape. He stepped off the tower and carried them gently to the hangar floor where their parents were worriedly looking for them.

They clung slightly and argued but they eventually let go and clung instead to their parents. Sir Ebrum offered a quiet thanks and farewell, Lady Like giving him an apologetic look. Both stepped into the Halberd with the final stragglers before the door slid shut.

(Previous Chapter) | (Next Chapter)

[jesi-jess]

Cleaned up my Blog, Guess I am crawling back.

Put in simple terms there is not much anywhere honestly and probably won't be a good/big competitor for a few years. So EHHH I'll come back with art but I plan to post different with heavy edits for sure. I'm also going to attempt insta as well and see how that goes between using tumblr and insta. With this I cleaned up the reblogs a bit again from recent posts. I might make another side blog or two but not sure of what (would anyone go to a ask blog for ocs and fandom hcs? I am interested in doing it but not sure either.).

I don't plan to repost all my art like I did before to save spamming, I am still working on building a archive of all my art via my own website but it's gone on the back burner now due to life being life LOL. But when it comes out I'll throw it out on my socials to show my life's work, eventually.

I will post a few recent pics though so there is something here and there. Insta still also has some older fanart posts cause I am just too lazy to remove so can see something there.

On another note I started some new fics for CoD Zombies and Tf2 but they will be slow slow for writing, they are there just to give me something to do when I have nothing else but like everything else when I post then I'll link! Anyway hope you are all having a good day!

[mangonatural]

Rules: Make a 24 hour poll with the names of your WIPs, let it run, then work for 10 minutes for every vote the winner receives.

Thank you for the tag, @angelcasendgame!!!!! I am not sure I will be able to work on anything very soon just because life came after me again, and turns out I'm gonna be moving over the next month or so, but I really do hope I can find time!!

None of these have names yet lol. I put the SPN ones first, but technically I've been trying to break my writer's block by returning to The Great Gatsby (It's all Nick/Gatsby btw, just realized that might not be immediately evident) with limited success. It's always come easier for me. But all of this is stuff I do actively want to work on.

Ohh I don't know who to tag. I'm sure everyone in this circle has been tagged already, and most of the people I talk to regularly enough to know about their projects have more or less left Tumblr... I do absolutely want to pass this your way though, @antique-ro-man!! (It's Wes, btw!) I also wanna tag @heyfagbutt! And then anyone else who sees this and wants to participate, I also encourage it!! This is such a cool idea :D !!

Long, rambling explanations down here ⬇⬇

I think the name is pretty explanatory? The gist of it is they go after the same guy and become pseudo-enemies but they keep bumping into each other like this and decide to work together after a while 👍 this is a really bad hook LMAO. Anyway, I'm trying to build on the idea that they work REALLY well together when they do it intentionally but fail comically when they don't.

Pretty much what it says on the tin as well. No Supernatural AU. Dean goes to a community college to get a certification to help with his work elsewhere, but Cas, a figure drawing model, catches him drawing (which Dean's been doing on and off as a hobby) and tries to get him to sign up for the arts program.

I technically only have a summary of this, and I'm not entirely sure if I will write it all out, but I do want to at least put more time into the development before I dedicate to giving up on it bc of scope lol. I just have SUCH a soft spot for fake relationship AUs. Also, I just found out that while I have FINALLY aged into independent FAFSA eligibility, I am once again tax bracketed out. Anyway, financial abuse is real and I want to project my suffering onto Dean. Also immigrant Cas, but I haven't decided where I want him to be from yet. I think this has a lot of potential for some pretty hefty character redesigns too so it's also compelling to me from that angle. I guess I could also write it for TGG, but I did initially think of it for Destiel, so.

I don't know how to explain this one very well except that I had unhelpfully written "poolboy au" in my notes and then proceeded to forget what the hell I meant. This fic was an attempt to resurrect that but ended up being a funky modern West Coast re-imagining where Gatsby can't even "make it" as much as he wants to, and Nick can't find a place to live except for a less-than-legally rented pool house. It's not meant to be a full rewrite or anything though.

Uhhh yeah, I'm keeping the details private for this one ahaha but that's just because it wasn't supposed to be a big deal and I told a friend she would see what it was when it was done...like oh god probably a month ago at this point... My original scope for this was quite small, but research for it, indecision, and a nasty case of writer's block that I've had for nearly a year now have kept development a bit slow. Hopefully, I'll finish it before the year comes to a close.

I also don't know how to explain this one well other than "after being rejected by Daisy (Canon Divergent), Gatsby attempts to buy his way into a bewildered Nick's heart. Though the fic is from Nick's POV, Gatsby's just had his worldview shattered and is in a bit of denial, but instead of pursuing Daisy harder, he channels all of that energy into Nick (though he's not really sure why he's doing it at first). I wasn't sure what to put up at the top because I absolutely don't want my code name for this public at least until it's done LMAO.

[scarletify]

My 2022

Hello! And happy new year! With the end of a year I always find myself thinking back. Unfortunately, this was another really bad year for me. I remember making similar sentiments at the end of 2021. It feels like this year life was against me every step of the way. I started the year with covid. I spent most of the year unable to comfortably live in my home due to a bad situation with floor contractors. And the last quarter of the year was bad due to private, personal problems. I know it's been no secret that I've been doing very poorly. I feel like that gets reflected in my comic work. For the second year in a row I was unable to reach my goal of 100 new pages in a year. I apologize once again for being so slow with the progress of my webcomic. I do feel hesitant to talk about this kind of stuff, as I don't know if I would be annoying or misunderstood. But the fact is, I am dealing with severe depression, and have been for a really long time. This year I think one of my biggest hurdles to my productivity was just getting out of bed. There's several reasons for this. I'm struggling financially, and have found myself very isolated in general. A part of that is because I got too wrapped up in my work, and now I find myself largely alone. I can't help to but see the irony in that, as the original intent with my webcomic was to vent out my own feelings of loneliness. Now it feels like my comic is the source of it. In 2019 I had to move to a location I didn't want to. It was supposed to be a short term situation, and then covid happened. I have been living here ever since. The longer this has gone on the worse I have been feeling, and the longer it goes the more it feels like things will never change. I feel completely trapped. I'm sorry, I've become a very depressing person. All that said though, I'm still trying my best. I don't want to give up. And I have some positive things to share in my retrospective as well. Recently I've been making attempts to reach out and broaden my horizons. One way I have been doing this has been through my Youtube channel. A source of joy for me this year has been making videos about something I love: Final Fantasy. I was surprised to find that people have been enjoying them, and the whole process has been a lot of fun and encouraging for me. I also took my first ever commission for a physical product. The character charms I made were a lot of fun to do! And it's given me a lot of hope for a new avenue I can take my work in the future. It's something I want to very seriously look into, and I want to try really hard to open an online store in the coming year. I hope this next year I can take a huge step in my personal growth. I'm a very anxious person, and I struggle to talk to people. But I want that to change. I want to keep in touch with the people I know. I want to meet new people and make new connections. I want to find the courage to put myself out there. If you read through all of this, thank you. If you supported me this last year, thank you. If you enjoyed my comic, my art, or my videos, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Here's to a new year ♥