#i canny take anymore of this

[outrowingss]

hungary gp 2024 so far as a charles leclerc fan

[synth-spinner]

PETER..JUMPSCARE

[see-arcane]

I wrote a book!

The Vampyres is the happy horrifying accident born of feverish scribbling in the wake of Dracula season* (*inhaling Dracula Daily and Re: Dracula at the same time May thru November). It features a number of familiar villainous faces from classic supernatural lit, though not everyone is wearing their original name anymore. The story takes place in the 21st century and you can only hold onto those sentimental titles so long in the mayfly mortal world before you start drawing attention.

Not that swapping out pseudonyms has done anything to thwart the new shadow looming over the revenant community…

Free Preview Chapters (If You Want a Sneak Peek)

Tumblr version - PDF

More info under the cut!

Description

Something is culling the undead.

Whether they imbibe blood, leech life, or traded mortality away to their devil of choice, the revenants of the world are disappearing. The Vampyre, a possessor of many names and collector of many lives, has been fretting over the phenomenon for some time.

A laughable fear, for he is one of those canny cadaverous few who made a deal for perpetual resurrection. The bitten may crumble, but the bargainer can rise from death after death. So he reminds himself. So he worries is no longer the case.

Not when the boyar in the Carpathians was one of the first to vanish. Still, the monster from the mountains may simply be in hiding, just as the rest of the bargainers must be. The Vampyre convinces himself of this for a single night……before the monster called Quinn Morse makes itself known.

Where to Buy

eBook: https://books2read.com/thevampyres

Paperback (Bookshop being a U.S. store search*): https://bookshop.org/p/books/the-vampyres-c-r-kane/21171669?ean=9798218374587

*Available internationally!

To Search by ISBN

eBook ISBN: 9798218374594

Paperback ISBN: 9798218374587

Art Pile

Announcement Post Flyer - Cover Conundrum - Preorder Announcement - Vampyre Valentine

Skull Scratch - Eye in the Sky - Food Chain of the Vampyre - A Long Night In - Red Smile - Prototype Book Cover

BONUS: Fanart Book Cover!

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Tunes to run for your unlife to.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

29 / 2.1k / soap soulmate au, part 6

...

Ghost looks up as Soap storms out of the weapons closet.

"Still herself, I take it?" Ghost asks.

"She's a stubborn pain in the ass is what she is."

As expected. Soap misses the dry amusement that crinkles the corners of Ghost's eyes very slightly. "Didn't talk, then," Ghost says.

Soap scowls. "Not a goddamn word we can use. She won't listen to reason. Thinks she can face down an army. Dense, irritating--"

"Strong-willed," Ghost says.

"To a damn fault. Canny see what I'm trying to do for her. I'm-- she's--" Soap can hardly articulate his frustration. He's got this sick feeling in his stomach like he's been kicked in the gut hard enough to make him hurl.

It's not just you being too stubborn to give up the intel. What happens when you’re freed? You’re not going to stick around. What if Graves snaps his fingers and you go right on back to him?

Soap lets out a rough sigh. "There's more than Graves keeping her from talking. I don't like it."

"You've got a plan?" Ghost guesses.

Soap nods. "Aye. I need to talk to Laswell--"

"Done." Ghost produces a beige folder and drops it into Soap's hands. "Had her look into it for you."

"I'll be damned." Soap flips through the pages in the folder. "Christ. Bloody thin file." He fans the pages inside like a flipbook as if checking for extra pages. "Where's the rest of it?"

"Not much there to dig up."

"Then she's gotta be missin' some--" Something catches Soap's eye as he skims through, and he pauses, lingering on a photo.

Hell's fuckin' bells.

"Think that'll help?" Ghost asks.

"I'd wager so."

"Good. You goin' back in?"

"Aye.” Soap folds the file into his jacket and gives Ghost a good-natured fist bump to the arm. Then he brushes past him, knocking into his shoulder.

Ghost grabs Soap’s arm again before he slips past. "We don't have much time. Price wants to move on Alejandro. Says if you can't get the intel, we go in blind. Rodolfo leads."

Soap sets his jaw. "How long?"

"Three hours. Tops." He claps a firm hand on Soap's shoulder and turns to leave. "Get some sleep."

…

A moment later, the metal grate door slides open. You straighten back up and steel yourself again.

There's something different about the way Soap carries himself this time. He's not wound as tightly. But the way his eyes settle on you is... odd. The shift in his expression puts you on edge.

He sits down across from you. "We've not got much time. If talking gets us nowhere, we'll try something else."

You lean back, mirroring his posture. "You gonna torture me?”

“That what you’re expecting?”

“Maybe. You ever tortured someone before?"

"Aye. Can't say I care for it, but I know how if that's what this takes." He examines you again with that sharp gaze. You don't feel like he's undressing you with his eyes anymore. It's more like he's searching for something. "Why ask? You want me to put my hands on ya?"

You ignore the mental image that imprints. "I want you to waste your time."

Soap smirks. "What I wouldn't give to let you waste my time. You, me, all this animosity between us... I've got a few negotiation techniques I'd very much like to try." He leans back into the chair, his hands folded in his lap with an easy grin. "But you're no' the type to break under pressure."

"Better men than you have tried."

"Tried torturing you?" His grin tightens just slightly. "Anyone I know? Names, locations?"

Your cheeks heat up again. At that, for some reason. "I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

He produces the thin file and tosses it onto the table between you.

You look down at the papers that slide out. They're grainy and covered in redactions as if printed and bound, pulled from the deep end of some filing cabinet, scanned, rescanned, and printed again. But you glimpse your name. Your real name--the one printed on Johnny's skin, too. Your chest twists and your stomach sinks.

Soap sees the change in you and leans forward, elbows wide. He opens the file and pushes it across the table. "I'll do anything to protect you, darlin'," he says. "But I need information."

The file is everything you don't want anyone to know. But what catches your eye is that photograph. "Who else has seen this?"

"Me and Laswell. Maybe Ghost if he was feelin' nosy. Does Graves know?"

You pull on your cuffs, wanting to reach for the pages and push them away. "Captain Graves said he'd make this disappear."

Soap leans back, broad palm sliding out to touch the edge of the pages, and his expression softens for a moment. "Some things you can’t make disappear."

You look at him, twisted up with pain and anger. "So, what, if I don't talk, you're threatening to expose all this? Is that it? It won't work," you add with false confidence. "Captain Graves knows everything."

"What I want to know," Soap says, voice quiet, "is what he did with it."

"What?"

Soap leans forward again. "Did he threaten you? Did he say he’d make this go away if you worked for him, hold it over your head?"

"No!” you snap. “After this happened, I couldn't-- I was discharged from the military. I couldn't find work. He reached out to me. Said he didn’t mind if I had… history. Then he offered to have it scrubbed if I wanted.” You stare down at the papers. “He never threatened me. He helped me."

Soap lets out a breath. He was prepared to deal with something a lot worse than that. Maybe he hoped for something worse. If Graves were blackmailing you, the solution would be easy. He'd give you protection, offer to have Laswell erase that file from existence instead, CIA-style. After all, if Graves got his claws into you and onto his payroll that way, why couldn't he? Probably got you dirt fucking cheap, too. Bastard.

Part of Soap wants to press that angle. He could tell you Graves never intended to deliver on his side of the deal. But the truth is that Graves would've had little control over this. Seeing the state of the file, Graves likely did what he could to have it redacted, sealed, destroyed--but someone over his head intervened. Shepherd, maybe. There'd be nothing Graves could do.

Soap wants you more than anything, but the pain in your eyes when you look at these documents tears him up inside. He can’t manipulate you that way. Even if he got you to himself in the end, he'd never forgive himself.

"That's... that's good. He protected you." Soap crosses his arms, squeezing his fist hard around the object inside, the one he pickpocketed off Ghost a few minutes ago. Much as he hates Graves, the man kept you safe. But that's his job now.

"I don't care who you tell," you snap, suddenly full of anger and spitting fire. The sight of those pages puts you on edge. You feel like a cornered animal. "I'm not telling you a goddamn thing. Do whatever you want to me. You're no better than--"

"Am no' blackmailin' ya." Soap's expression sours. So much venom in that mouth of yours. He runs his thumb over his tightened knuckles to suppress his own temper. He's amazed at how easy it is for you to get under his skin, how you push all these buttons when he's the one who's supposed to be pulling the strings.

But he realizes how this must seem. You act tough, but you're vulnerable, exposed, and he has every reason right now to drive the knife in and twist it hard. Maybe he should. Going into the Las Almas base blind means danger for his squadmates.

Christ, he’s tired. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Darlin’, I... I know now you've done things you're not proud of. But that doesn't change anything. Not to me, not to Ghost-- hell, none of us would bat an eye. You don’t need to protect yourself anymore. I need you to talk to me. We're out of time."

He thinks this is about you protecting yourself? You shake your head. "If you’re storming the Las Almas base, you're going up against Shadows. You're asking me to help you kill my own."

"If that matters to you, then tell me how to get to Alejandro without alerting the guards. Nobody has to get hurt."

You scoff, looking away. "There's no way to do that and you know it."

"We don't have to shoot them if they stand down first."

"That's not going to happen. They'll shoot you on sight. It'll be a bloodbath."

"Not for us."

You close your eyes. "I know. That's what I'm worried about."

Soap lets out a frustrated breath. "We're going in whether you talk or not. The blood's on our hands. Not yours."

You keep your gaze angled away, clearly not believing that. "I don't see why you care about security. I don't see why you need intel at all. This is what you're good at, right? This is what 141 does. You break in doors, you kill people."

Soap grips the edge of the table. "The only thing gettin' you out of here is information. I don't care what it is or if it's useful. Price wants intel."

"I don't have it." Your voice is flat and cold. Whatever you can do to make him understand you're not worth the effort.

He leans in and grabs your chin, gently forcing you to look at him. "Then lie to me."

"What?" You stare at him, feeling pinned under that intense gaze. "Are you fucking insane?"

"Might be," A small, sly, half-smile curves his lips. "I'm also desperate, runnin' out of time, and at the end of my rope after starin' at you this long, knowin' I can't have you." He runs his thumb along your cheek. "Maybe I'm bankin' on you losin' your mind before I do."

You swallow. "You'll be waiting awhile."

He smirks. His thumb moves from your cheek to your chin, fingers trailing down the side of your neck. "Do you think you're a good liar?"

Before you can answer, someone bangs on the metal door, rattling it. Price's voice echoes in from outside.

"Get some sleep, Soap," he calls. "We're briefing soon. Give it a rest. We’ll press her for more intel after we’ve got Alejandro back.”

Soap tenses at the sound of Price's voice. "Wasn't planning on sleepin'," he calls back.

"Wasn't a question," Price calls back. You hear him walk away.

Soap withdraws his hand, letting out a soft curse.

"Why would you give your own Captain false information?" you hiss. "You could lose your job. You could get court-martialed. Even if it worked, what if Shepherd finds out? He's still in your chain of command."

"Guess that's a risk I gotta take."

"Then what if I tell you something that gets your teammates hurt, huh?"

"Won't happen. I'll be in the front when things get risky."

"Then how do you expect me to-- if it means you're the one who's--" You huff, words failing you. "You're so goddamn thick."

"Am I? Because here I am, tryin' to make plans and get a read on you, and all you wanna do is piss me off and run your mouth. I'm learnin' a lot." He tilts his head. "In fact, it's startin' to sound like you're worried about me."

"Absolutely not."

"Could always tell me the truth. Extra insurance if you do. Maybe it’ll keep me alive."

"You don't need it," you snap.

"I think I do." He leans in, crossing his legs and folding his arms. "Got a bad feeling about this one. No Shadow worth their salt wouldn’t send us straight to hell if it meant finishing the job. Especially Graves."

You feel another pang of dread in your gut. He's right.

He watches you for another long moment. Neither of you speak.

Finally, he stands, sighing deeply as he goes to the door. "Alright."

"Are you coming back?" The words spill out of your mouth before you can stop them.

He pauses in the doorway. Then he turns back, staring at you like there's something he wants to say. He looks down at the stolen object still clutched in his hand--the key to your cuffs.

He opens the door, slipping through without another word.

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / [part 6] / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[vyl3tpwny]

why it ourple

ok.

i'm going to tell you the story of how purple became my favourite colour. and then, where the name vylet pony came from.

———————————————————

ch.1 the mace windu incident

once upon a time. I really liked star wars. i kind of still like star wars i guess. but when i was a kid, i REALLY liked star wars.

in my room, i had a mace windu poster.

i still can't find the exact poster. it looked something like this

mace windu was my fav star wars character for an inconceivably long time. with that, i also became fascinated with his purple lightsaber. nobody else had a purple lightsaber. i loved it. staring at that poster constantly made me really like the colour purple. ever since the poster started exerting its technicolour pressures and whimsies upon me, i became fixated on the colour purple. forever.

"hai!~ im mace windu and i loveee Videos!" - mace windu, star wars episode iii: revenge of the sith

———————————————————

ch. 2 the viny scratch era

fast forward like 7 years. i am in the my little pony fandom now. i am 13 years old. i really like vinyl scratch. she is pictured here:

my first online presence in the mlp community was as a vinyl scratch / dj pon3 roleplay account. for a good year, people called me vinyl and "vy".

however when it came time to start releasing music in the fandom, i couldn't go by vinyl scratch at the time. this name was already being used by the artist who currently goes by Scraton!

this is still one of my favourite songs by them:

anyway. i actually held a really insane, irrational grudge against scraton for being named "vinyl scratch" as a music artist before me. i got past that after a while, because i had to stop being 13 first. i stopped being 13 and eventually fell in love with their music and we became friends later after!

but it's 2013 and i can't be vinyl scratch anymore. people already called me "vy" because of being a vinyl scratch persona.

so.

———————————————————

ch. 3 it's vylet time-wait is that can opener? CANNI?

it started on december 28, 2012. i posted to my then-instagram account this image:

you may recognize this as my oc canni. here's their reworked look in the 2022 album (10 years later) can opener's notebook: fish whisperer (illustrated by @astroeden):

can opener's original name was "ultra vylet". their colour scheme was originally intended to be the inverse of vinyl scratch's, as a sort of strange protest to not being able to be vinyl scratch. i was like ok. well if i cant be vinyl scratch, i am going to make a character that swaps the main colours. within a few months of "ultra vylet" existing, i discarded the design in favour of a completely different one:

this would be the only time vylet consistently had purple in her design until 2018 or so.. lol.

then. on april 15, 2013, i posted this to my instagram:

i had essentially combined three things:

The fact the people called me "vy'

The fact that my favourite colour is purple (violet)

The fact that I wanted to be vinyl scratch (dj pon3) before

———————————————————

ch. 4 vylet pony ≠ vinyl scratch

that is to say, i never really put a lot of thought into "vylet pony" as a name. i just made it when i was 14 and now i am going to be 25 soon. will i keep vylet pony as a name forever? not sure. do i take great pride in its insanely snarky origin? absolutely.

after i had decided firmly on "vylet pony" as a name — after dropping the "3" from it — i made a new instagram account. the very first thing i posted to it was this:

illustrated by my friend, shade.

now that looks slightly vylet-like, design-wise, oc-wise. oh. but now she is grey and black? ok.

she stopped being purple from 2013-2018.

here is how her design progressed through the years:

the first one is by my then-partner sara. this is when vylet's cutiemark was still an upside down music note, reflected from "ultra vylet" / can opener's original design. i'll show how it became a puzzle piece next.

the second one is by shade

the third one is by chibadeer

the fourth one is by astroeden

———————————————————

ch. 5 the puzzle piece

to this day, i still cannot find the fanart in question. but over instagram, someone asked to draw fanart of my pony. in doing so, they misconstrued the shape of the upside down music note as a puzzle piece, like this:

i've been looking forever for the original fanart/fanartist that made this mistake. because ever since that art, i just stuck with it anyway. i like puzzles and puzzle games. i'm also a puzzling and enigmatic person. and the puzzle piece can go into so many different things. all sorts of problem solving is like a puzzle. music fits neatly into that category in my opinion. so because of its intrigue and ability to mean so many different things, i just went with it. i never looked back.

———————————————————

ch. 6 that is the history of the colour purple and vylet pony character design

i hope this answers the question "why it ourple"!

[fizzingwizard]

I was genuinely looking forward to Lupin vs Holmes in part 6, but what a disappointment it was. Actually, disappointment is too weak a word. In my opinion, it was pretty much a disaster.

There were so many reasons to be hyped for that crossover. You've got Holmes, the greatest detective of his time, and Lupin, the greatest thief of his. They're both canny, eccentric, and always a step ahead of everyone else. They're also both independent and live by their own set of morals. Holmes picks which cases he'll take without concern for money, and lets people go even if they're guilty if his own convictions say they don't deserve punishment. Lupin always does what he wants, doesn't let himself get pushed around, and enjoys wreaking havoc among inhumane criminals just as much as he enjoys flouting the law.

They're even perfectly matched in the ways they're different. I was open to them either liking or disliking each other (though I feel convinced they'd definitely have respect for each other), because I can see either take making sense. Holmes is calculations with a pinch of chaos, Lupin is chaos with a measured dash of calculation. Holmes eschews relationships aside from a very few - Lupin enjoys social interaction (but prioritizes just a few). Holmes is functionally asexual. Lupin is never not horny.

Even the supporting cast was so promising! To tell the truth, from watching previous seasons I didn't really think the rest of the Lupin gang or Watson would have much to do. But I hoped they would because there was so much potential.

I mean Jigen and Watson are both war veterans in their own way. It's not the best comparison (Watson was a doctor, and got shot almost immediately... but he is also a "man of action" and does have a lot of fight and pluck, even if he's not going to be a match for Jigen in terms of marksmanship). And they're the right hand men of two pretty difficult geniuses... couldn't they spend a moment commiserating lmao.

It could have been awesome to see Fujiko interact with Holmes because her usual tricks wouldn't work on him. I admit it isn't unlikely the show would have been like "Ahh, but this time they do work on him, just like Irene Adler!" and totally ignored that book!Irene impressed Holmes with her wiliness and not her sexiness... But I'm talking about my fantasy here. And in my fantasy, Holmes would have had a similar reaction to Fujiko's manipulation and acting skills similar to how he did with Irene. It would have been pretty cool to see Fujiko interact with a man who was NOT into her, but was just as smart and brave and perhaps wiser than Lupin.

Even Goemon would have had something to do. He could have had a super cool kenjutsu vs baritsu ("what even is that?") battle with Holmes. Extra points if Goemon walks away saying "I respect the skill of that fellow warrior, even if he can't spell his own martial art correctly."

And of course Lestrade and Zenigata's shenanigans at Scotland Yard are a nobrainer. But serious bonus points if they both pine away with equal envy and admiration for their respective smart ass thorns in the side hahahahahahaha.

I mean. There was SO MUCH there. How, HOW do you mess that up???

(Answer: By knowing absolutely nothing about Sherlock Holmes to begin with and basing everything on your memories of inaccurate movies from fifty years ago x'D)

So instead we got: perpetually sad, somber Sherlock Holmes, who isn't working the job that he literally loves anymore in favor of looking miserable a lot and raising a child. And the child is Watson's kid, who Watson can't raise because he's fucking DEAD, and mom can't raise because SHE'S dead (just say Holmes is her mom. Come on. We're in the future. Just say it). Also Watson is dead because Lestrade killed him like WHAT. Of all the twists they could have gone one, they definitely surprised me with that one. Was it a fun surprise though? ... No, no it wasn't.

Add to that the extremely dull characterizations of everyone, the heavy reliance on the danger to a little girl who isn't even a canonical character but is very cute, and the slow, slow pace of the episodes... What a mess. It was memorable, sure, but for the wrong reasons.

Like the only thing I can think of that I didn't hate about the whole arc was Lily taking her first steps as Holmes's assistant at the very end. Fine, that's adorable, and makes me feel ever so slightly better about Watson being dead. And I'm desperate for something to like here so let's go with it.

("It's not really Sherlock Holmes anyway because of the generational difference, it's his great grandson who has his exact same name and job! Same with Watson and Lestrade and sexy Mrs Hudson and and and-" I'm gonna stop you right there we all know it's Holmes. Whatever excuses they make, no matter how they have to bend time and physics to make it happen, it is Holmes Prime in every way that matters lol.)

A melancholy sigh for the Coolest Crossover Ever That Wasn't. As a Lupin fan and a Sherlock Holmes fan, I'll regret it till the day I die.

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Management Styles Pt. 1

I find it deeply fun that both the Queens have very similar management styles albeit for different reason. Both Riddle and Vil operate essentially on "might makes right" and "shame to tame".

Vil will cut you down for not acting in a way that fits his definition of beautiful, especially if you're lazing about. Riddle will cut you down for not acting in accordance with his rules, especially if you're lazing about. Both aspire to this lofty concept - order and beauty, and for the most, strong arm people into agreeing. They're quite aggressive so they will seek out behaviors to correct.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, Idia who couldn't give two shits about what anyone in his dorm is doing because he's got the most antisocial dorm ever and they're pretty self governing. When they bitch about each other, its always personal because their otakus who will disagree over the slightest differences in interpretation. But like management? structure? what is that?

(Which is what makes Idia's attempt at asserting leadership in Ch 6 sooooo funny. He doesnt really have a way of getting people to fall in line so naturally the other folks started bitching at him)

Now, Ortho's management is a little more advanced. He operates more on a "distract with the shiny" to get them off his back while he actually gets to work. He never actually works with other people because he is in fact not that great of a team player (super robo boy with five million advanced programs can do it all so why ask for help?) but hes better at tricking people to get off his back so he doesnt have to deal with them anymore than necessary

Incidentally, Jamil is the same way. He also prefers to do everything himself and if people are working with him, you better believe that they are under his Direct Supervision. But, when people dont fall in line with his wishes, he relies on his unique magic/signature spell to make up the difference. He's not like either Riddle or Vil who browbeat into obedience simply because that shit would not work on Kalim. However, Kalim can be distracted with shinies at the risk of making more work later if Kalim gets particularly "inspired" by said shiny. In short, Jamil doesn't manage people more than he magicks them into complacence.

Now, somewhere in the middle between outright authority and fuck it I'm doing this myself, there's Azul and Leona. They mostly take control of people via bribes. They are canny negotiators who know what people want and give it to them for a price. Of course, if directly challenged, Leona will throw down and Azul sends out the twins. But for the most part, they rely on clever tricks to get what they need from people. They will avoid violence - mostly because that's just trying too hard.

(And yeah, Leona absolutely believes that Riddle and Vil are too high strung)

As for Malleus... He mostly gets his Dad to do things for him.

[fancyfeathers]

Moriarty Darlings asking 'what now', after actually getting out and away. Get Out and Dodge, before they track you down again.

You girls should know more than most of how little of the country is safe from the yandere men, the wisest answer (though enormously difficult to execute) is to flee to America and start a new life by pretending to be three sisters/spinsters (I think there had been some incentives for educated middle-class women to emigrate) looking for prospects abroad.

(It's a shame they can't take Mycroft's Darling with them, a scandal journalist like that would, with some streetsmarts and charm, probably make it decently. The Queen wouldn't be able to pressure her much with an ocean between them.

And hey, depending on how canny and forward-thinking they are, it's possible that they could have been fortunate enough to make bank with well-timed investments into automobile or railroad industries, I believe it should be around the American Gilded Age? There are economic opportunities significant enoughy that particularly succesful returns could possibly set them up for life.

I'd just like to see the Darlings eke out a win, and for the yanderes to actually run into a challenge: the strict and tyrannical hierarchy of the social classes they might have used won't really hit the Darlings anymore! Their own social networks that let them run circles around in England can't be ported over, despite the increase of communications + their own social class would inhibit them from moving too openly in a whole other continent.)

(My Lady Whistledown stuff is actually separate from the other things I do, Mycroft’s darling in these stories is the sister of Albert’s darling and I am actually working on a story for her. Sherlock’s darling is a crime journalist so if they got her help they would probably be set)

If they were able to make it out of the country, which would be very difficult already due to the underground and government connections the brothers have, they would probably have a stable life. William’s darling has a pretty good education which the brother’s provided so she probably could manage a decent paying job, maybe she could manage to get another job in ballet again. Then Albert’s darling had a pretty good education as well, probably a bit better, so she could probably get a job as a governess or teacher. Then Louis’ darling was a librarian before, she also went to college, so she is very well educated so she could probably land a rather high paying career, perhaps a literature professor at a woman’s college.

There are also their wedding rings from William’s and Albert’s darling that they could sell which are definitely worth a pretty penny, not to mention the jewelry Albert’s darling owns from her life before her marriage which is worth even more.

Now chances are they will get caught though, probably even before they can get to the docks. I would honestly give them a few hours before they are finally found and dragged back home, and probably would not be allowed to talk to each other for a long time if ever again.

[lilsispro]

Hello! What drawings can u make?★

Hello! Well i typical make whatever i can or want basically, pretty much a free artist! I might do commissions soon once i can get my art style down which im practicing to do on off time, my art style is simple (still learning eyes and hands) with dotted eyes, simple body structure, and dino hands! Heres a example of what i draw on paper:

(AU that me and my friend did, its quite off canny that jons happy lol)

I can also draw something a lil complex like this Transformers OC I redrew recently!

(1 st is old 2nd is new)

Im also trying to learn realism in my new art class im taking at the moment! Which im hoping i can learn proper anatomy! The inly anatomyish practice i get is drawing W2H characters, its because i have the proper refs to do it!

I also do pixel art!! Which needs improvement for sure! From my last pixel art post of jon ive grown slightly from it!

This is another AU me and my friend did, i can see ive grown from it a little bit!!

But yeah thats my art! Its just goofy and cartoony! Im hoping when im done in this class i can hopefully draw better than i can now! And like i said i might do commissions! On my phone ofc like all my art is cuz i cant offered anything sadly, but if ur interested i might could start with u probably! But thats it! If u have anymore questions ask away! Im a open book!! 🥪💙

(Also some AU art i made of Meph!)

[ritterum]

A Farewell to Arts

There's a strong possibility that in three weeks' time, I will pick up my violin for the last time and never have to play it professionally ever again. As somebody who has spent over 26 years playing the violin, this prospect fills me with a very complex mix of sorrow, dread, and relief. Relief is the easiest to explain: I hate playing the violin. This may seem strange for someone to say who has spent almost 3/4 of their life playing it professionally - but then again it's really not. I fell out of love with the damn thing about halfway through--Year 11 or 12--and everything since then has been an attempt to cling to it for purely rational economic reasons. Why give up the one skill you've been earning money for since before your teens? Why throw away the tens of thousands of hours you've invested in a skill for the sake of "because maybe I might like this other thing better"? Why reduce yourself to a nobody when you already have a fanbase, modest fame, reputation - everything that most people would kill to enjoy? When positive incentives stopped working, me and my handlers turned up the negative incentives instead - never a good idea in retrospect, but boyyy do the short-term gains blind you to the consequences. I burned out almost immediately, started skipping practice more and more, had to force myself to run through pieces that I could easily have done five, ten years earlier. When Covid-19 forced the world into a lockdown, I was secretly glad for it. I had concerts lined up that I had not prepared, could no longer prepare for, and being able to declare a pandemic-induced burnout, like so many of my colleagues worldwide were doing, was a heaven-sent alibi. I relished the freedom of not having to pick up the fucking instrument for days, weeks, months. After the lockdowns lifted, I pulled myself together enough to scrape by, since I was still taking a degree-course in solo performance. That worked for a couple of years, until I developed a tremor that may or may not have been psychosomatic in origin, and that more or less put a pin in the matter. On the good days, I can play more or less the same as I always have; on the bad days, I can hardly play a note because the bow keeps jumping all over the place.

That said, you don't spend over three quarters of your life doing something and not identify with it on a core level. There's always the question of what I'm going to do when all is said and done - when I get the degree and the diploma and lay down the violin for the last time in its case. The smart money is on performance-adjacent work: teaching, assisting in studios, managing other people's careers. Violin professors, luckily, don't need PhD's to teach in conservatories, but they do need their lucky breaks - usually starting as assistants. Availability for that depends heavily on the institution, and if it's not in the stars next year, then I'm damn well out of luck. Agenting and managing are somewhat easier - musicians always need agents to promote them - but the social requirements might prove a bit too high to hurdle. I've never been the most sociable of creatures, and the business will require me to put myself out there and be pushy, ruthless, and canny - traits I don't possess natively and have trouble summoning on the best of days.

Lastly, there's the regret of not hitting certain milestones under the "legacy" tab, little things like: performing at such-and-such festivals, or composing your own arrangement of a song, or being invited to performances in all major continents (excepting Antarctica, Nemesis to Violins). Some of those things, like composing arrangements, are still possible outside the theater, though getting them performed will take some convincing; the rest will, sadly, remain uncompleted. Then there's the matter of everybody you've met knowing you as "that musician fellow", and suddenly not having a thing to know you for anymore. What does the Pope become when he's no longer the Pope? You become defined by all the things you were, and the vastnesses you neglected to claim, rather than the things you try to build yourself up to be. It may not be a permanent state - it better not be - but you might as well get used to it while you build up a new skill set.

There's no clean ending to this. Terra incognita awaits me past the third week of January, and I sincerely do not know where I'll end up. I pray only that the New Year treat you as gently as I hope it treats me.

[bunchofdogstuff]

A work in progress.

(( this is the first time I post something on tumblr... I hope it reaches someone! ))

(( Please let me know what you think! ))

It will start right at the North Pole.

Predictions from the distant past failed to calculate the exact point of impact, but modern technology has made things so, so easy… we can pinpoint the precise spot where the first lightning bolt will fall, even if we can’t do anything to stop it.

The sensors will go awry, the entire world will take notice for a moment. A lightning bolt? On a perfectly starry night? Where did it come from? Questions that will stall the minds of the brightest minds in the world, while disaster spreads through the ice fields, crawling so close to the floor, devouring everything on its way.

The Loathsome Mist will return, and with it, the shadows of the beings we stole this world from, so long ago that no one remembers anymore.

The Second Sacrifice will begin, and this time there’s no unlikely hero, no charitable soul to stop it as its core.

As time draws near to the end of the world, and all my attempts to stall it crumble to dust, I am faced with a choice.

I can either brave this alone, and pray to the stars that I find a solution like I did almost six hundred years ago… or I can submit, and seek his aid.

I’d rather die and take the whole world with me than having to talk with that pusillanimous buffoon again.

So I guess I am on my own.

Diary of Mustafá, the Witch. Entry Number 882.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

My heart is beating so hard, it feels like it could just jump straight out of my throat in any second now. My lungs are on fire, my neck and my arms hurt as I get up. I can feel my own blood flowing from my arm and falling on the floor, mixing with the magic flowing in the air. Green, purple, golden, red, I can’t distinguish them as they swirl and dance… and I can’t really stop and marvel at it. Not with this sense of impending doom on my back.

I try to get my bearings, after all I hit my head real hard on my fall down the stairs. The stairs! I am standing on the stairway of the apartment complex where I’ve lived for the last three years. It’s dark, pitch black in fact, and yet I can perfectly see my blood dripping and my favorite hoodie being ruined by it.

It’s a very small space, barely having any room for an extinguisher on every floor. Ah, that’s right, and I’ve seen several extinguishers already, so I must have gone down a few floors. I started on floor eight, and I am on floor…

With some of the blood on my fingers I paint the walll, illuminating some of it with the bright color of pure magic.

3rd Floor.

I fell five floors straight!? No way, I must have run a little at least… run… run from…

The sound of steps interrupts me. They are slow, calm, she’s getting closer. She knows I don’t have the physique to run nor the knowledge to somehow disappear myself. And yet I push myself to start trotting down the stairs again, no point in trying to hide from her! 

As I go, I furiously tap on my phone, sending messages to the Fellowship. It’s not like any of them can help me now but, at least they can make sure to save whatever we can from the work before she takes it from my cold, dead hands.

xXxNoCookieLikeBIGCookiexXx:  SHE’S CHASING ME, 82 IS CHASING ME.

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: WHAT. OMG RUN, RUN!!!! O.o

jeepers creepers man: what do you mean “chasing you”???

xXxNoCookieLikeBIGCookiexXx: SHE’S CHASING ME, SHE APPEARED IN MY HOUSE AND IS NOW CHASING ME.

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: TAVY-CHAN RUUUUN!!!

jeepers creepers man: ok ok, calm down, calm down.

jeepers creepers man: i assume you tried to talk to her and it went poorly

xXxNoCookieLikeBIGCookiexXx: CAN’T TALK RUNNING

jeepers creepers man: ok ok, fuck, hmmm…

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: I’M GONNA WAKE UP CANNY-KUN HE’LL KNOW WHAT TO DO

GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: shit shit SHIT I knew this was going to happen man

GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: she’s gonna come for us next guys you better get ready. 

I don’t have time for this.

With a loud sigh I jam the phone in my pocket and stop running, panting, gasping for air and fighting for my life as I reach the door of the bottom floor. I didn’t even notice how her steps were no longer echoing in the stairway, I was just desperate to push that door and look for an exit. 

Only to find her standing right there, a bored look on her face and her hand raised in my direction. The Alchemist was a head smaller than me, at least! But her tiny frame commanded a strange, powerful presence. Her skin was dark, darker than mine at least! But what really caught my attention from the very start were her eyes: unnaturally golden, wide awake and yet so dull, dead. 

“End of the line, Octavia.” Her cold, emotionless voice makes me shiver. “Give me the book or I’ll take it from you.”

“C-Can’t we discuss this?”

“You don’t want a part in this game, kid. If this is the only way to make you understand, so be it.”

Green, purple and golden, the octarine light of magic, flowed through the Alchemist’s veins and straight to her hand. I have no idea what she has in mind but I do not want to just wait and figure that out. I raise my own hand, throwing it down as I jump back into the stairway. I may not be powerful enough to cast a proper fire, but I know how to make smoke.

"GOLTHOI!"

I don’t know why I yelled, it just felt appropriate. There’s a very small yet loud explosion,  as if something had broken on the floor between us, and then a thick cloud of smoke expanded and covered the whole door. As I fall back, I can feel something brush past me, mere inches from my head. A ball of green light that breaks into pieces of glass on the wall behind me, surely aimed at my face before my little gambit.

This woman wants to kill me.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Oh I’d make it as hard as I could. As I ran back up the stairs without really thinking where I will hide from this crazed Alchemist, I can’t help but look back and wonder how I ended up here. To think that a few months ago I would have simply kneeled and submitted my life at the first chance to end it all… 

And now here I am, running for my life, clinging to my backpack with all the strength I can muster and pushing my body far beyond its pathetic limits just so I can continue pushing my nose where it doesn’t belong. 

Truly, the life of a translator really is non-stop excitement.

[llycaons]

I just recommended a fic I do like but I remember the jc writing being kind of annoying in the sense that the author was like 'haha wwx is SO irresponsible, jc is the sensible one and besties with wq and they both think wwx is annoying!' which is is so fucking annoying and disrespectful of wwx because when has that EVER happened in canon like wwx will ocassionally have fun or goof off but not when it's something serious! he demonstrates very sound judgement when it comes to things that actually matter (which jyl said!!! she knew!!!!) and jc being frustrated that wwx is doing something he doesn't understand usually means that he's being left in the dark, not that he has better judgement or is more sensible than wwx

the CR arrival? yeah he wandered off to get jyl a present but did it really matter. yeah he tried to sneak alcohol in but he went back alone and retrieved the entry passes himself, snd jc also indulged in the alcohol and porn parties so its not like he can judge. the time he snuck off to join lwj on his quest? yeah he didn't tell anyone but he knew what lwj was doing and he knew he needed help and that it was important. spending all his time drinking post-ss? he wasn't being stupid, he was coping with trauma and suddenly not having a purpose anymore. he KNEW what jc wanted from him but he wasn't able to give it. and the fucking wens? people act like jc was 'just doing the smart thing' when it came to the wens but wwx KNEW what he was doing was dangerous and couldn't end well, he was simply making a MORAL decision rather than a political one

the sole example was wwx mocking jl without knowing about his mom which was a serious error on his part and when one of his genuine flaws of EMOTIONAL carelessness comes through, but to his credit he immediately corrected his behavior afterwards. and it really was bad luck THAT was the kid who trapped him. and it's not like jc has any leg to stand on when criticizing his emotional sensitivity to others

and postcanon he's trying to hunt down a cursed sword/solve a mystery like he does do silly things occasionally but he's got like. a purpose and all which he does stick tonwhen he needs to. but also there isn't anything wrong with him just enjoying his life in either of his two lifetimes. like damn jc....why do you hate fun...etc.

like jc doesn't necessarily always make bad decisions, but he is very often working with incomplete information (often bc wwx is intentionally misleading him!) and he never pauses to consider he may not be the best person to make these decisions, but people take his contempt for others and his confidence fully at face value when they really shouldn't. in canon his attitude of 'ugh I'm the only serious one who cares about doing things right and wwx is just a disaster who slacks off all the time' is demonstrably untrue as was proven time and again within the text as a brilliant, compassionate, driven, well-informed, pragmatic, canny, circumspect, untruthful, protective, and morally driven wwx emerges distinct from the careless, out-of-control disaster idiot slacker that jc often treats him as. and like. that fucking matters

edit: of course there's ALSO the theme of jc wanting wwx to sit down and shut up and stop making trouble while wwx is a deeply morally driven anti-authoritarian character who can and does defy jc and other leadership he's supposedly meant to defer to when he feels he has a moral comittment he must honor. the narrative recognizes that wwx's decisions aren't always right, and he does make mistakes, but those mistakes were not 'trying to do the right thing even though jc said it was stupid and pointless' (i.e. offering to help lwj during the indoctrination camp, saving jzx's life in the cave, defecting to pay their joint debt to the wens) and the fact that people genuinely think they are is like. did you understand the story bud. like jc being mad that wwx saved lwj and jzx and thus apparently brought down the wrath of the wens onto LP makes sense to HIM but saving two heirs was the correct political and moral decision and from an objective standpoint they both KNEW the wens were coming for them. if anything jc's judgement is the one that's usually impaired because it's so often clouded by his uncontrollable and tempestuous emotional state. wwx walking his single-plank bridge is an intentional decision he makes with full knowledge of the risk, and it's one that's ultimately proven to be righteous despite the regrets it brings him and the losses he incurs

[ardenigh]

More questions on Tegan & Lucky!

What sort of media would Lucky be interested in?

What sort of books and journals are in Tegan's collection?

What bike did Tegan have and what is Lucky's? How did Lucky get his?

What are Tegan's associates doing about Lucky being around instead of him?

Whether for his curiosity of meeting new people and places or distancing himself from Tegan's social circles, would Lucky consider moving somewhere else?

Since Lucky is still legally seen as Tegan, would he get his name changed?

Since Tegan is the king of street racing, would it be fitting that he also has an unbeatable skeeball highscore in every arcade he's been to?

i was going to open this answer by going "well it's your lucky day" but i just made myself cringe with it lol

it is time for boy lore!

What sort of media would Lucky be interested in?

I think he likes weird mixed-media and self-published stuff, honestly. Audio dramas, video essays. Things he can put on while he’s on the road or stretched out watching the clouds. Reading is nice, too, but he focuses best when he's just gotten up and isn't moving yet.

He likes a classic slasher from time to time, too, but only with other people. Corn-syrup blood and cheesy practical effects are just kind of better enjoyed together.

What sort of books and journals are in Tegan's collection?

Make no mistake, Tegan was a NERD. Aeronautical anthologies, astronomy texts, those weird Barnes & Noble historical coffee table selections. Poetry, like a lot of poetry. Tegan's very much a Yeats boy, although he was also fond of Rilke and Rimbaud. There’s also, like, a few dusty language textbooks, the sort that you buy on a kick and never get around to actually studying. And he wrote a lot. Memo pads and leatherbound Walgreens journals, that sort of thing. Crack one of those suckers open and you get a free tongue-in-cheek existential crisis in mechanical pencil, 'cause that's what he had on tap 80% of the time.

What bike did Tegan have and what is Lucky's? How did Lucky get his?

Tegan had a 2012 BMW F800ST! Torquey and balanced and really well cared for. Midnight blue with some subtle yellow and white accents, little bit of a Van Gogh homage (nerd).

Of course, Janus had mixed feelings on the whole racing thing, but he also recognizing that having a motorcycle was an integral part of his brother’s identity, so he arranged for a replacement — a Sprint 1050. They are both sort of sharp in the front, and honestly, like, a bike is a bike. Only thing is that a bike is not a bike, and so while Lucky does get things done with the Sprint, it’s a little bit too finicky for his taste. He ends up trading with another local bike enthusiast for something a little more his style, and that — a Yamaha FJR1300 — ends up being his trademark bike. He gets it done up in his colors and everything. :)

What are Tegan's associates doing about Lucky being around instead of him?

Aside from the fact that he just isn’t around as much as they’re used to, I think that most of his acquaintances are just convinced that Tegan sort of got scared off the scene by the crash. First one of his career, right? And bad enough to take him off the map for months. I think that what strikes them as the strangest is the way that he just doesn’t seem to engage in the racing game at all anymore — he just seems to be a full-time courier, now.

When they ask, though, he’s genial. Maybe a little vague. Something's ever so slightly off about him. It’s weird, but who wouldn’t be? The crash was pretty bad. I’m still sorting everything out. Everyone doing okay? Nothing like an NDE to really mellow someone out. He’s still welcome, though, and sometimes he takes people up on invitations on the town, but the atmosphere’s a little different now that Holloway doesn’t step up and dazzle whole rooms like he used to.

Tegan’s best friend is canny enough and close enough that she knows what Lucky’s deal is — anyway, she’s been busy in the interim with trying to suss out what got him killed in the first place. How is she coping with the recent development that the bestie has been format wiped and now perceives way more and also way less than she is comfortable with? Uh. Really well. Don't ask her any more questions.

Whether for his curiosity of meeting new people and places or distancing himself from Tegan's social circles, would Lucky consider moving somewhere else?

Lucky would love traveling, I can tell you that much. You know those people who will tour from one coast to another with a backpack and their bike? That's right up his alley.

As far as leaving permanently, though, Lucky is a creature of sentiment. He's got ties to the city, inherited though they were, and once he starts making them his own, it'll get that much harder to actually leave it behind.

He is going touring though. Someday.

Since Lucky is still legally seen as Tegan, would he get his name changed?

Maybe after enough time’s passed. Feels disrespectful to immediately start over, you know? I think a part of Lucky seeks to understand who Tegan was, and it might just be sentimentality, but wearing the name feels like a part of that, almost? You wear the name, you read the journals, you find the person still lingering in the apartment, the idle nail-carvings on the end table, the weighted blankets and sleep playlists.

In the end, if he gets too used to it, he might just start telling people that he is Lucky, yeah, but he was named after a brother who passed away. Maybe Tegan would be amused.

Since Tegan is the king of street racing, would it be fitting that he also has an unbeatable skeeball highscore in every arcade he's been to

YES. Is it anywhere near as prestigious? Absolutely not, but it's fun to see the neighborhood teens placing bets to see who can beat him.

Did Tegan have any tattoos? If so, what where they and what meaning did it have to him?

He’s got a simple one stretching horizontally above his shoulder blades, the phases of the moon. He would’ve had more, but he had too many ideas for them and often sketched down concepts in his journals and never actually committed to them. Lots of thought went into maybe getting a line or two from poems he liked inked, but he never got the chance.

If Tegan did have tattoos, would Lucky be interested in getting one as well?

The first tattoo Lucky gets might be for Tegan. Some poem on his bicep or chest. But in you is the presence that / will be, when all the stars are dead, maybe. A lonely impulse of delight / drove to thus tumult in the clouds. That one will take some thought.

Other than that, maybe a spade? Is that too on the nose?

[typingatlightspeed]

TFC Fanfic - Can't Let Go

Fred is concerned about the state of their boss' emotions since the death of their medic, and worries about his compentency to lead the team. Virgil agrees, but is able to empathize a little bit with how much losing someone important to you can mess you up. Either way, this isn't going to lead anywhere good.

Idk y'all this popped into my head at work and I had to get it out.

Warnings: Very mild gore, mild eye scream re: Virgil's mechanical eye, past character death (TFC Medic, or Gabe as I have named him).

--------

"He ain't right, is all I'm sayin'," Fred grumbled, a terribly thin and small screwdriver held between two thick fingers as he finished rebuilding the mechanical eyeball cradled in a shop towel on his worktable.

Virgil huffed, shaking his head. "When's he ever been right, Fred?"

The engineer shot a look to his friend, the one-eyed sniper currently hogging the only chair in the workshop. "You know what I mean. Moreso'n usual."

"You know how close he and Gabe were. They were as married as two men can get. A heavy and his medic; it's awfully romantic."

"Awful is right," Fred chuckled, joined in a laugh by Virgil. "That's the thing, though. Ever since that explosion, he ain't been the same. Gabe dead, me ripped in half, Bea's eye. That op couldn't've gone worse if we'd tried. An the bossman losin' his husband; I think that might'a finally pushed him over the edge."

"He'd been teeterin' as long as I've know him."

"Exactly. He's been awful cagey about jobs now. It's either sure things or the most outrageous shit, never nowhere between. The worst part is how spooked he's gotten."

"Spooked?"

Fred finished reassembling the eye and wiped it clean on the towel. "Here, should be good to go," he said, handing it to Virgil, who stretched open his eyelids and popped the thing back into his empty socket, letting the nerve linkup inside grab hold and reattach, restoring use of the thing. He almost wished he'd asked for an off switch for the damned thing this time. Seeing through everything, even his own eyelid, had been deleterious for his ability to get any rest. But having the ability to turn it off would mean he'd use it, and it would make him lazy, and an easy target. Best to just deal with it, he supposed.

"Back in working order. As you were saying?

"When I can get him talkin', it's... he can't let go of death. Ain't never bothered him none before; we're mercenaries, we know what we're gettin' into. What we're riskin'. But ever since Gabe died, he can't shake it. Keeps talkin' about how we're gettin' older. Gettin' slower. Gettin' weaker. We're some of the best damn mercenaries there are, but even we can't stop Death from comin' callin' sooner or later. I don't think he can figure out how to reconcile it."

"It is a lot to take in; losing someone that important to you," Virgil offered, thinking back to the year prior, when he'd seen the explosion from his perch, when he'd seen Fred get torn in half, his legs basically paste, his intestines strewn from his open, gaping torso, blood everywhere. It was a sight he'd never shake. He'd splattered more brains and pierced more hearts than he could remember, but it was different when that gore, those guts, were someone who mattered to you. "Changes your perspective in some fucked up ways."

He was just grateful they'd managed to save Fred, and that the canny engineer had been able to retrofit one of his father's old designs for prosthetics. Though it had required a bit more biological knowledge than he truly had the depth of understanding for, and without Gabe around to help anymore, it had been a long, taxing, infuriating process to get right. All the while their heavy was going mad in grief and couldn't be consoled by anyone.

Bea had just wrenched the shrapnel from her eye, bandaged her face, and gone about her day. Hard woman, she was. She terrified Virgil, which was no mean feat.

"I'm just concerned he's gonna do somethin' stupid. He's angry, and hurt, and it's gettin' him more 'n' more riled every day, and one of these days he's gonna snap, and it ain't gonna be good for any of us."

"That new medic isn't helping with it, either."

"That absolute fruit loop is gonna get us all killed even faster'n the boss if we ain't careful. I know a mad scientist when I see one."

"I'm thinking more the boss is gonna kill him first."

"Half thinkin' we should let 'im. Maybe it'll blow off some steam," Fred laughed.

[detroitbecomeonline]

screw it im publishing it i cant re-read it again. i canny take this anymore

[subzeroparade]

your bloodborne fics are absolutely amazing ;_; would be very interesting to hear your opinions/headcanons on the popular pairings, if you have energy for that

I always have energy for headcanons ( ͡◉ ͜ʖ ͡◉)

Here’s the thing - a good enough writer (or artist, for that matter) can make any pairing convincing if they’re skilled at their craft. I don’t have to like the pairing to entertain the idea of its existence if the fic/art is good enough to make me believe it. 

Obviously I am partial to Laurence/Ludwig because there’s so much potential there for my favourite ingredient, dramatic irony. I imagine Ludwig to be virtuous, selfless, and dutiful. Stoic and devout in a way that must help him wrestle with whatever cognitive dissonance emerges when things start to go downhill for the Healing Church. Laurence is ambitious, charismatic, single-minded in his pursuits and canny enough to separate himself from his actions. They make great fodder for each other. Also Ludwig is a big handsome lad and Laurence is a scheming little fox-faced bitch.

But I can also see the same kind of dramatic irony play out between Gehrman and Laurence, which is why I spend a lot of time personally speculating about how the moon deal went down. How Gehrman was always giving and Laurence was always taking until one day Gehrman just wasn’t there anymore, and Laurence died before he could even do the one thing he promised Gehrman he would. 

Despite the fact that everything ends in fucking tragedy I do love Maria and Adeline as a comfort pairing ❤ I like to think Adeline never knew what happened to Maria (I don’t subscribe to the idea that Simon killed her; I think all her deep-seated guilt points to a much more obvious end). I like the idea that Adeline and Maria acted almost as caretakers for each other in the Research Hall - Maria tending to Adeline’s health while Adeline was a balm to soothe Maria’s remorse. 

I don’t know that I have strong opinions on any other major pairings - I’ve seen some Ludwig/Simon and Brador/Laurence which I can definitely entertain because the material is there for it (also….Brador/Simon? They both seem like pathetic little meow meows but I'm intrigued I guess???) 

Valtr/Yamamura because I have no stake in the matter but I’ve been convinced by some hilarious art. 

My Caryll OTP is in Litanies but it’s a spoiler :)

Also Edgar, stuck in the Nightmare, and trolled unto eternity by Micolash. Absolute bonkers dynamic and it’s great. 

Caveat: these are only my headcanons, and I still love hearing other people’s takes on these characters because it forces me to think of them in different and nuanced ways, which is always useful. 

*climbs down from soapbox*