#i simply rotate him in my brain like a rotisserie chicken

[strawberrisoulmate]

oough..... thoughts of mr godot............

diego armando...................

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

Who’d Even Look Me In The Eye

“You realize we’re screwed, yeah? There’s no getting out of this unscathed, Wem. We’re dead meat.”

He laughs, an empty little breath. “We’ve been screwed since the beginning, Squiddo.”

Hello and welcome to my partykillers manifesto. They rotate in my head like rotisserie chickens constantly so it was inevitable that this fic would be written lmao

This isn’t ship! At best this is a doomed toxic friendship trying to mend itself and failing. If it came off as ship, uhhhhhh. Whoops I guess. Idk interpret it as you want ig I just didn’t intend it to be romantic.

Content warning for mention of vomiting and general lifesteal violence, title from Kiss Me, Son Of God by They Might Be Giants (which is THE Team Nuke song. To me)

Please reblog if u liked it and enjoy!!!

Wemmbu is sitting on the edge of the crater that used to be 4C’s base when Squiddo finds him. He’s idle, swinging his legs back and forth over the yawning gap below, leaning back on his arms as if he were simply enjoying a nice sunset. Conveniently, the sun is in fact setting, orange and pink hues filtering through Squiddo’s glasses. The final few rays reflect off of Wemmbu’s polished crown, scattering light like pockmarks of the wreckage.

Squiddo doesn’t approach him right away. She wasn’t exactly looking for the man- they were simply wandering, as a Squiddo often does, their feet guiding them as thoughts ran wild in their brain. Her feet and scattered mind brought her here either by coincidence or fate, and it’s never in her favor when she walks into a situation blind like that. Around Wemmbu especially, with how he can change at the drop of a hat, laughing one moment and snarling another. It’s best to watch him carefully, first, see how he’s acting when he thinks he’s alone before entering the fray. For that reason, Squiddo hides behind one of the boulders that came careening down in the explosion, hidden eyes trained on the man twenty feet away from them.

They don’t find it strange that he’s devoid of any tension while surveying the wreckage. This is his coup de grace, his shining achievement; a monument of his sheer power in a world that wants to beat him down. There’s a fondness in Wemmbu’s eyes as he casts them across the landscape, soft smile reaching them without any effort. Contrastly, if Squiddo weren’t focusing on analyzing him as if he were some sort of crossword puzzle that was being particularly difficult, they’re pretty sure they would be full to the brim with a manic sort of regret- small fits of laughter would bubble up from somewhere in her chest, despite a lack of a smile. And then she would probably vomit over the edge, because guilt does that to them.

Here’s the difference between Wemmbu and Squiddo, as partnered as they are: Squiddo never wanted this. The first time, when it was just a mean move on the chessboard in a family diner, it was fine. It was funny, even, to watch as people she had just gotten to know fall lifeless, their souls yanked backwards at a million miles per hour. That was part of the game everyone had agreed to play. This—the air strike, the destruction, the days of stress, the sound of Wemmbu’s screaming demands echoing through their head—was a step too far for them, even if 4C had agreed to it, and she had initially been willing to pitch in. Maybe it was because working on the nuke itself had worn them down to skin and bones, sleep abandoning them in moments of need, but something had switched in her head upon watching the TNT fall from the sky. Something in them screamed wrongness, and suddenly, instead of pride welling up at finally getting the damn thing working, regret surged into her for letting this happen. For having a hand in it. The sharpness in Wemmbu’s voice as he made his ultimatum—something he never clued her and 4C on—only solidified that feeling in her stomach.

Speaking of Wemmbu, he’s still just sitting there, kicking his legs. From this angle, Squiddo can’t entirely read his face, but there seems to be no tension as far as they can tell. He’s in his element, something she hasn’t seen from him since the nuke went off. It’s not odd in any manner, it’s just…off putting. Disconcerting. Something Squiddo can’t make an accurate prediction out of. But if fate brought them here, surely it meant something, the same way it must’ve meant something for them to join lifesteal in the first place, so she steadies her resolve and lifts herself from the crouching position she took upon seeing him.

They can tell exactly when he’s alerted to their presence- in an instant, his posture tenses, fingers digging into the rough terrain. His crown jostles a bit as he silently tries to locate the sound. It’s easily missable, those little quirks, but Squiddo knows Wemmbu better than anyone else on this server. She’s had to pay attention to those quirks for days on end, before. She can read him like a book if he lets them. Knowing him, he won’t give them the chance.

“Y’know I can hear your footsteps, Squiddo,” he calls out without moving.

“How’d you know it was me?” They reply, but they know the answer already. Wemmbu just huffs a laugh in response. So far, the tension in the air is minimal- both of them are holding their breath, keeping it light as if their friendship hasn’t been atomized three times over. She can almost pretend that nothing has changed, if it weren’t for the visual reminder in front of them.

Wemmbu doesn’t keep the game up for long, though. “Why are you here?” he asks, and the familiar sarcastic bite to his voice makes itself known between words. It’s less of a question and more of a challenge, a test to see if they’re worthy of his presence. “I thought you hated me, or something.”

That’s odd, Wemmbu getting vulnerable so quickly. Squiddo knows it’s an act, his way of lowering her own guard so he can lure them in, but she’s not entirely mad about it. As much as they wish he would just take the hits as is rather than scheming his way out of every mildly uncomfortable situation, they know it’s in his nature to put up the front as quickly as possible. Usually, the banter lasts longer, is the thing. He’s particularly bothered by them being here. They don’t know if they like that or not.

Instead of lingering on it, though, she moves on, ignoring the sentence that was tacked onto his question. “You know me. I wander. Ended up wandering here.”

“Right.” Translation: cut the bullshit, Squiddo.

The huff that comes out of her is a mix of frustration and relief. It’s still the same old Wemmbu, and that’s both good and bad news. Which Wemmbu it is, Squiddo doesn’t know, but they’ll take their chances on it being the one that won’t kill her on sight.

He doesn’t move when she walks up to the edge and sits down next to him. His sword, if he’s even got one on him, stays in his inventory. The only change between either of them is that Squiddo starts swinging their legs in sync with his, hands gripping the edge of the crater to keep balance. She pointedly doesn’t look down- as much as she dislikes Wemmbu’s lack of tells, she doesn’t want to show her own, and the queasiness would eliminate her already weak poker face.

For a long moment, both of them just watch the sun set in front of them. The air smells of smoke and iron, the lingering traces of their actions hanging heavy on their shoulders. Grass has begun to creep through the cracks in the rock, nature claiming the wreckage as its own once again. For anyone else, it’s beautiful. To Squiddo, it still is, but the gentle beauty is easily trampled by fear and guilt.

It’s Wemmbu who breaks the silence, voice flat and casual. “I don’t regret a thing, you know.”

Her tone is similarly flat. No tells. “Distinctly aware of that, yep.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continues, leaning back on his palms, soft smile gracing his face again, “it was hell. Building the nuke, I mean. Those schematics are burned into my retinas to the point where I could rebuild it blindfolded. I tried to, once. Spoke caught me before I could finish.”

“Were you gonna use it?”

He shrugs. Lets the silence between them simmer, as if he’s just enjoying the view. Knowing him, he probably is.

“Eh. Wouldn’t’ve done much, probably. Most likely would’ve just blown up in my face.”

More silence. Something Squiddo knows about Wemmbu: he doesn’t trust silence. This situation is probably eating him alive, with the way they’re dancing around the metaphorical elephant. It’s eating them alive, too, waiting for his reaction, for him to settle on a mood. She swallows her desire to just start crying, or laughing, or something. Now’s not the time for that. Now is the time to just get on with it, either by playing the game of chess he’s laid out with this conversation, or push him off the cliff while he’s vulnerable.

Her voice is steady when she speaks. “I don’t know if I regret it or not.”

“What, like it wasn’t exciting?”

“Our definitions of exciting are very different, Wemmbu.”

He chuckles at that, as if it’s another late night at the launch site and they’re goofing around again. “Squiddo. Squiddo. You can be mad all you want, but you can’t deny it wasn’t at least a little bit fun.”

He’s trying to get a rise out of her, she knows. She hates that it’s working. She hates that they’re sliding back into normalcy. She hates that she can imagine 4C next to her, swinging his legs in time with her. She lets that hate seep into her next words.

“Fun?! Fun was when Zam and Minute were dressed as the FNaF animatronics celebrating my fake birthday. Fun was when you would be away and me and 4C would dick around the launch site like children. Fun was 4C undulating in the wiring! Fun was messing with the secret controls! Fun was filling spawn with water! You?,” Squiddo gestures to the landscape in front of them, shadows forming as the sun dips below the horizon, “This? This was a living nightmare, Wemmbu! And I-“

She cuts herself off with a huff, falling back onto the rocky soil behind her. Tears are making their glasses fog up, so she takes them off, pressing her palms into her eyes to ward off any frustration. The breath they didn’t know they were holding releases from their chest. Wemmbu doesn’t move from his spot on the cliff edge, nor does he pull out a weapon of some kind. He must be in a really good mood today, if he’s not killing her for that jab against him.

In front of them, the sun finally dips below their view of the horizon. Stars speckle the darkening sky. In any other situation, Squiddo could watch them for hours; in this one, they break the silence with a quiet, wavering conviction.

“You realize we’re screwed, yeah? There’s no getting out of this unscathed, Wem. We’re dead meat.”

He laughs, an empty little breath. “We’ve been screwed since the beginning, Squiddo.”

She knew this. Those same words have been going through their head over and over, spurring her to pace, get out, go somewhere. Hearing it from him, though, is a heavy weight on her chest, one that makes the regret swirling in her stomach do flips.

“Then why’d you do it?”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, not set an ultimatum that couldn’t be fulfilled?”

By the sound of rocks rustling and pebbles tumbling down the side of the crater, Wemmbu has finally stood up. He takes the time to dust himself off, hands brushing against fabric in an almost rhythmic manner. If Squiddo opens her eyes, she can see him standing over her, arms crossed and eyes unreadable, assessing her as if she’s under a microscope. It doesn’t worry her as much as the fact that her eyes were closed around Wemmbu does.

After what feels too long of an analysis, he speaks, falling into his typical tone of monologue. “Power is a fickle thing, Squiddo. It’s not just you have it or you don’t. You have to earn it in a manner that no one has done before, and it never lasts as long as you want it to. But oh, I wanted it. I joined the race for power on a server where everyone has done everything to get it. I had to take the risk.

And you know, maybe it wasn’t worth it. You said it best. We’re fucked. No matter what we do, in the long run, there’s no getting out of this alive. But I have at least some time left before it all goes to hell, so I’m gonna make it count. Every second of it.”

The difference between Wemmbu and Squiddo, as partnered as they will be: Squiddo never wanted this.

Wemmbu holds out a gloved hand. The black contrasts nicely with the neon purple of his skin, bloodstains barely noticeable. Most of that blood is probably Minute’s, if they had to guess. “You’re along for the ride, as much as you claim innocence. Might as well stop crying about it and make it count too.”

They take his hand, hoisting themself up with his help. That heavy feeling hasn’t left their chest, but it’s something Squiddo knows how to live with by now.

“Never said I was claiming innocence, Wem. I was just mad.”

“Aren’t we all, Squiddo, aren’t we all.”

The reason Squiddo keeps teaming with Wemmbu, as different as they are: neither of them know when to stop.

For a long moment, they both just stand there, looking over the crater. In the moonlight, it takes on an eerie sense of calm, a silent mourning underneath the cover of night. That calm washes over Squiddo as she watches the patches of grass away in the breeze. Then Wemmbu turns to leave, shoving a hand in an unseen pocket and placing the other on their shoulder.

“You never answered my question, by the way.”

This time, it’s her who lets out the huff of a laugh. “About hating you? Can’t. I try not to hold grudges, if you can believe it.”

He laughs back in reply, a hearty thing combined with a layer of sarcasm. “God, you sound like Minute, the freak. I don’t think that man is capable of having a mean bone in his body.”

“I have no clue how he’s survived this long, honestly.”

It’s nice, as much as Squiddo doesn’t want it to be, talking to Wemmbu again. Her mind brought her here, and it’s probably because she needed it- she cares about her other server mates, of course, but the same way she knows Wemmbu, he knows her. No one else can rile up their audacity the way he can. No one else can make her feel okay with living in a war zone like lifesteal. Ash tried, but Ash is a different breed of player, and works on a different playing field. Squiddo sticks with what she knows, and she knows Wemmbu, as unfortunate as that can be.

And yes, they’re screwed, but for a moment, underneath the sparkling navy sky, Squiddo pretends that both of them have more time than they do.

[fumifooms]

oh, sorry for so many asks, i also wanted to say too though i really agree so much with your chilchuck thoughts so far, even down to your personal headcanons about how things might go post-series. and you're absolutely right, i'll defend that little guy any day myself. you understand him so well and it's kind of relaxing to have someone else dish out this kind of analysis and already agree with all of it cus it's just so real, so thank you again for the Meal <- perhaps the perfect thing to say about dungeon meshi analysis when i think about it

i know you have playlists and stuff so i wanted to share a song i've been listening to that that reminds me of him: divine loser by clem turner

No worries, they’ve been a lot of fun! I do plan on getting back to each one btw, just gotta get through some other things first hopefully. Aaaah that’s really nice to hear 🥺 I do know the feeling haha, it’s always fun to have posts that Get It that you just nod along with 🤝 I’ve thought sooo much about Chilchuck I rotate him in my brain like rotisserie chicken more often than not, glad it all ended up being productive haha. Y’know recently my friends have been calling me a Chilchuck superfan/scholar jokingly and it actually made me have a realization moment of…

Bc I’ve always said Laios was my fave and like, he does mean everything to me idk if I’ve ever felt so seen as with Laios, I relate to him sooo much, but then. Okay alright that can be a different thing than a character being your favorite fine FINE I admit it Chilchuck’s my top blorbo. He’s so.🧍‍♂️I can’t even describe. He’s so….. He’s a clown but he’s also perfection in its best imperfect form I will not be taking further questions today. My friend called him my silly rabbit like that one meme and it makes me laugh sm

Thank you for the music rec!! I listened to it and yes agreed, sent straight to my Chil playlist. Songs are my bread and butter when I have character brainrot bc like with web weavings I feel like there are so many emotions and thoughts you can communicate about something so simply through one… (Which for anyone interested here’s my web weaving tag, got 2 about Chil). Gonna link all my dunmeshi playlists while I’m here: Dungeon Meshi, Chilchuck & his wife, marchil, Mithrun.

Ok everyone saw this coming but this ask ran away from me and I ramble about some song lyrics I associate with Chil & different facets of his life below the cut. Some people find my, ehem, heated rambles about Chil entertaining, this is your cue to get out the popcorn.

When thinking about songs for Chil I have 3 angles I take: About Chilchuck, about him and his wife, or about him & Marcille. Marchil is so engraved into me with their arcs together, that they’re like the concept of closure and letting go and letting yourself live again to me, sorry for all the non-enjoyers…

I think currently my top song for him is Jackrabbit by San Fermin, because it combines all three it makes me go wild. It’s about trepidation… Throwing yourself into it even despite the fear (working with traps, survival in poverty where you have to rush & hustle), or just staying there paralyzed(not reaching out to his wife). Flight or freeze!! Saying goodbyes and saying hellos!! Not dying alone!! The life cycle of a wild rabbit living and dying, the baton pass race of life from generation to generation!! Chil and his daughters even!!! Going through life at a frenzied pace!! It is so Chilchuck and so marchil, and the music does give that hurried and scared energy to me too, and sigh the Marcille side to it with fear of death too…

Extra fun context but the other day on the discord server we were talking about what animal each character’s fursona would be as we do and I thought of a rabbit for Chilchuck: Quick footed, ‘cowardly’, small and frail and seen as weak 🙃, athletic and slender, pulls stunts, stressed out, has very fine hearing and has good instincts, etc. And ofc that fits really well with Marcille since she’s kinda associated with dungeon rabbits hehe~ But I think while Marcille’s 100% the cute round rabbit Chil’s more like a brown hare, more wild and like, more like a jackalope if we’re still doing monsters... I do lowkey find it more fun than his associated monster being mimics because he’s crabby, because they’re clever (with where they place themselves) and because of how he has a soft shell but soft insides, lol.

OKAY so that’s my song pick with the main 3 facets sure, now I’ll share some lyrics for each 3 sides separatedly 😈 Kinda summarizing my web weavings for him thus far. If we start with Chilchuck by himself we have… Enter One by Shelby Merry and Drunk by The Living Tombstone

With his wife, we have the bad end, and the good end for if they get back together with Lost Kitten by Metric and North by Sleeping At Last… Okay okay plus Love Like Ghosts and My Heart is Buried in Venice… Little Soldier by The Crane Wives for them also RUIN me

And Marchil… Marchil oh my beloved. Another buddy also made a full analysis on discord about Soap by The Oh Hellos for them lol, but these are Not I by I Fight Dragons and My Heart is Buried in Venice again~

Okay okay two more. Boats & Birds by Gregory and The Hawk, and Tummy by Tamino.

Finishing it up with quotes from, in order, A Softer World by Joey Comeau, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, Acknowledgements by Danez Smith, The Letter by Richard Paul Evans, and last but not least posts from dead tumblr account flintcoded. I keep looking around and finding MORE fitting quotes. Someone stop me- In loving me you hold a knife at my throat, in loving you I tell you exactly where to cut. Forgive me, memory is a rope around my neck. I need you to be happy, I need one of us to be happy.

Hand in unlovable hand…

In conclusion;

[peterbazooca]

Not me rotating the idea of a durge doomed to madness because they defied Bhaal and lost the fight to Orin like a rotisserie chicken.

Made myself sad with an "alternate ending" to the fic I'm writing because that's just the vibe in here I guess! I can't bring myself to make it "canon" because I'm a coward but it hurts too good to leave alone. Also, spoilers?

*

"I won't give my father the chance to let me hurt any of you."

"There has to be something," Astarion replied, running an uncharacteristically agitated hand through his hair. "Hells, a spell or a potion, anything--"

"There won't be anything. He won't leave room for that kind of saving grace. And even if there was, we wouldn't find it in time."

Astarion stopped pacing, his hand dropping from his hair. Ronen held his gaze.

"There isn't another way. So I'm going to destroy the elder brain, and then I'm going to kill myself. I won't be his puppet anymore, Astarion. I won't hurt anyone else."

Blinking rapidly, Astarion turned away. Ronen had no idea what was going through his head, but he doubted it was good. He hated this, hating causing him any more pain, but this was so much bigger than every wonderful thing they'd found together.

"Astarion, I need you to promise me something."

It was a span of several heartbeats before the vampire faced him, his features set and stony. "Yes, darling?"

"I need you to watch me. I need you to make sure I don't turn my blades on anyone who doesn't deserve it."

Astarion's responding laugh was borderline hysterical. "You're asking me to be your moral compass?"

Ronen didn't blink.

"Yes. Please. I've always trusted you," he reminded the vampire. "Even when it was an objectively stupid thing to do."

"Alright," Astarion replied at last as he stepped in close, his hands coming up to cup Ronen's face. "But I won't stop looking, up until the end, I swear to you."

And even if he couldn't see the truth of it shining out of his eyes, Ronen would never doubt that. "I know."

Their whispered words mingled, heat and breath in every space between, and Ronen didn't ask. Like the selfish monster he'd always been, he simply leaned in and *took*, kissing Astarion with needy abandon. Astarion, for his part, didn't flinch, didn't balk, but matched Ronen tongue for tongue, bite for bite, and when Ronen's nails found cool skin and burrowed in, Astarion's only response was a shiver of pleasure as he pushed himself closer.

Ronen didn't let himself stop, didn't let himself think, only have and do and give, and prayed to exactly no one for a miracle that might let him keep this.

*

When they finally made it back to their room at the Elf Song, everyone else was already asleep, or at least doing a passable job of faking it. Everyone except for Halsin. The druid sat on one of the beds in the corner farthest from everyone else, his shoulders hunched, somber eyes locked on his hands. Ronen felt Astarion go still beside him before nudging him in Halsin's direction.

The desolate expression on the druid's scarred face said everything. He pulled Ronen close, forehead against his chest, and Ronen ran his fingers through Halsin's thick, tangled hair.

"My heart." The words were mere puffs of heated air through his shirt, but they nearly felled him all the same.

"Shh, it's alright," he assured Halsin. The lie was bitter on his tongue, but he was a cloth wrung dry with nothing left to give. They could talk in the morning. When, he hoped, Ronen had the strength to dwell on the topic once more.

Halsin pressed a kiss to the skin of his chest, over his heart, and tugged him down. It was easy work; Ronen had no desire, no intention of fighting. A few short maneuvers later, Ronen found himself tucked up tight, his back to Halsin's chest. A few feet away, Astarion settled into a high backed chair, his posture slack with exhaustion but his eyes alert as anything.

"Sleep, my heart," Halsin rumbled, lips pressed to the back of his neck.

"We'll keep watch," Astarion added.

"Until morning?" Ronen hated how small the words came out. Halsin's arms tightened around him.

"And everything that comes after."

Safe in Halsin's embrace, under Astarion's watchful gaze, Ronen did something he didn't think he ever had before and cried himself, silently, to sleep.

[gh0st-eaterr]

4, 13, 18 for the (one or more) sylvari occupying your brainspace lately

(my main three are always rotating in my brain like rotisserie chicken, so wheeee)

popping this under the cut because this will be Long(tm)

Will be answering for my sylvari Abhartach (Av), Oiliphéist (Ophie), and Rhynn

4. How was their awakening? Did something particular happen? What's their first memory?

None of them had particularly eventful awakenings as such, though Av distinctly recalls coming-to and going 'Hm. Body does not match gender, the fuck's up with that?' lmfao.

Ophie is/was a Valiant, i.e 'has a Wyld Hunt', so for him awakening was mostly just...disorienting. 'What do you MEAN I have bullshit responsibilities already, I crawled into this world an hour ago!'

Rhynn remembers the first hours of his awakening and realizing that he...fundamentally had no ability to empathetically connect to other sylvari. A lot of sylvari have this uncanny ability to get a read on each other pretty well, perceive emotions a lot more readily through a shared connection to the Dream -- Rhynn didn't have this. If you asked him nowadays, he'd also tell you he doesn't remember what he dreamt, either.

13. How do they feel about death? Does it make them curious or scared? Do they wish to understand it or do they simply accept it?

Av has a...very complicated relationship with the concept of death -- not even because he's a scholar of necromancy. He's been alive for some 24 years, and dealt with a lot of shit; death, for him, used to feel like it would be a matter of 'sooner rather than later'. Now, years after making a pact of protection with a lesser deity of Grenth himself, he's afraid of not being able to die. He's functionally immortal. There were some...oversights, when that pact was made.

Ophie accepts death for what it is; if it's his time, it's his time, so long as he goes out swinging. It's something he made peace with a long time ago, after he managed to escape the Nightmare Court; if fighting back against them becomes his end, then he takes solace in the fact he went out fighting the good fight. He's had a few close-calls in the past, but the fear wasn't dying as such, it was more 'I'm not done here, yet'.

Rhynn's the sort of egotistical maniac who hasn't really given much pause to the idea of death -- he's under (wrongful) assumption that nothing could match him, let alone best him. With the backing of some of the worst kinds of power the Nightmare has to offer, he thinks of himself as nothing short of a god. There's no curiosity or fear of it, nor understanding or acceptance -- he denies death as something that can (and will) happen to him.

18. [Free space for 3 pieces of trivia about your sylvari!]

Av

He's Soundless, and takes far more solace in revering the human gods than the Tenets of Ventari and the Pale Tree...if you could call his attitude towards the gods 'reverence', even. Dream or Nightmare, he sees both sides as the same set of shackles that people cling to far too much.

He's left-handed! Though dependent on the task, he's just as capable with his right hand as the left. Can only really write with his left hand, though.

Adores cats. He has a sylvan cat by the name of 'Missy', short for Mischief. She's a sylvan cat specifically because he's very allergic to regular cats.

Ophie

He's one of a rare number of people born (or, I guess awoke) without an innate ability to use magic. At all. Which is especially strange and rare for a sylvari, whose entire being is practically saturated in magic. (In our canon we call it being 'Null' or 'null of magic'). It causes Problems.

He did actually used to be in the Nightmare Court. Canon says once you go to the NC there's no coming back, homebrew canon says 'nah' to that notion. Current hypotheses on how this is actually possible boil down to 'being a valiant' or the aforementioned 'utterly fucked and nonexistent connection to magic' making this less of a dire issue.

He's an environmental 'subtype' of sylvari that makes him particularly inclined to wetlands environments. He can hold his breath for a damn long time underwater.

Rhynn

He's something we've dubbed a 'Nightmare aspect holder' -- he embodies a particular facet of the Nightmare itself. Not unlike how Kryptis can be facets/aspects of emotions. Though, we came up with this well before we knew SotO would be a thing (by about a year or two).

He's also something we've dubbed as a 'Shade' -- a particular attunement to shadow magick. It's my take on the Specter class ingame.

(And now for something completely different!) For some reason, my brain decided he's a violinist. Couldn't tell you why, maybe it's that thing of 'asshole villain plays violin' or whatever.

[swordsmans]

New op fan anon here again, I’m currently rotating zoro in my brain like a rotisserie chicken (mostly because I wanted to wait until I was done to start thinking(tm) about him)

With that being said, one thing I really love about him is his loyalty, and how that’s just. A key zoro trait. Not even just to Luffy, but to a lot of other people. Sure it’s more selective than Luffy, but his whole dream is based off of a promise he made to a dead friend yknow? Like beginning of series he was willing to literally crucify himself for other people. Idk I might be totally misreading this but I think it’s interesting!

omg hi welcome back! and yeah!!! i agree, i think it’s really interesting! his like… deep sense of honor is such an essential part of his character.

one of my favorite things about the straw hats in general is how they each kind of have a “core” character trait their whole thing revolves around. not just like “augh robin smart!” but something a little more abstract. it makes them very fun to pick apart and analyze because there’s always a baseline to fall back on. personal interpretation, maybe, and there’s obviously overlap—but off the top of my head you’ve got freedom (luffy), strength (chopper), compassion (sanji), perseverance/resilience (robin), bravery (usopp), joy (brook), wisdom/duty (jinbei), steadiness (franky), companionship/family (nami). (each character has more than one obvs but im speaking broadly here)

i’d say yeah, loyalty is zoro’s core abstract trait! (or one of them. you know what i mean.) he was willing to go through immense suffering for Rika before the series even officially begins—not necessarily death imo because he was fully convinced he would win helmeppo’s bargain—and he’s continually willing to take on bodily harm for the sake of the crew throughout the series. cutting off his legs, throwing himself in danger, the whole “if faced with an unwinnable situation i would simply win rather than lose” thing.

his dream is particularly interesting because you could make an argument that it’s not entirely because of kuina, but kuina was the catalyst. like, he’s not trying to become the world’s greatest swordsman because she died because he was already aiming for that when they were competing—instead, her death solidifies the dream. the baratie promise works the same way imo—he has the dream, but now the dream has fuel.

there’s also really interesting character nuance in the difference between blind loyalty and the way zoro turns loyalty into a stepping stone for strength. on the flip side, his fierce loyalty also translates into a total lack of self-preservation (which mirror’s luffy’s relentless pursuit of freedom at all costs but HEY this is a zoro post) which is one of my favorite things about his character. there’s a whole essay in me on zoro’s specific kind of stubborn loyalty too tbh, but this post has sat in my drafts long enough lol!

thank u for your thoughts d(*ﾟーﾟ*)

[theokusgallery]

A 15+ comic would be fitting for the characters yet it's terrifying to actually think about

And yeah, the internet DEFINITELY won't be happy about it, especially knowing the characters it's based off

Which is sad because (and it's a bit weird to say it out loud) I'm...sure Nick is not just going to cherish his boyfriend.

...I don't know if it's safe to post that anon ask.

This isn't the point I was originally trying to make with those tags— but yeah you're right

The thing is I don't really give a shit about what the internet would think of me making a fancomic of OMORI, a psychological horror video game about two teenage boys committing and covering up a murder, suicide, psychosis, and other fun things, 15+. I'd argue players shouldn't be under 15 in the first place. But as we all know, the internet simply doesn't work that way — kids will be kids and they'll look at this shit anyway. That's the point I was making in those tags. I'd make it 15+, but I just wouldn't be able to ever enforce that rule.

I do still agree with your point. I'm actually surprised people like this AU. I've been sent dubious anon asks for less! I honestly wasn't expecting positivity, and certainly not the amount of it I've been receiving (which I'm extremely grateful for. I'm so glad I get to talk about Nick. I'm rotating him in my brain like a rotisserie chicken)

[absolutelynotsanebaby]

No coherent thoughts about him I am simply rotating him in my brain like a rotisserie chicken <333

I’m literally so fond of jl/jlu flash like it’s him <3333 my boy <333 my dearest <333 schrunkledoodle lad <3333 baby girl you r so important to me <33333 lke <333333 HIMB <333333 the way he shuts down when he ACTUALLY like someone is so <3333 and like BRO ID FIGHT GOD FOR HIM he’s looking sad??? Murder. Omg baby girl is another man trying to kill you and end the world? Don’t worry I got this you sit back-no I don’t care that your a superhero I got this baby girl <33333333333333333333333333333333333