#idk what this is but i felt like doing it after a long time

[euphoria-looney]

Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before. 

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

— 

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.” 

.

..

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

 A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream? 

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it. 

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name], 

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

-

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

[essektheylyss]

idk I kind of feel like I'm an idiot bc I actually enjoyed cr 3 from the jump to the end but like the blogs who follow bc I feel they are definitely more articulate and insightful than me are like "the whole thing was meaningless and pointless! matt fumbled everything!" so maybe I'm wrong to have liked it all? I'm not really sure where I'm going with this sorry

I think one thing to keep in mind is that many (and in fact, I would argue, most!) people who are critiquing the story and construction have also generally enjoyed the campaign as a whole! Certainly I don't know anyone who stuck it out through the end who did not overall enjoy watching it, for various reasons; I know there are people who hate watch, which I think is an absurd and honestly really stupid waste of time, but from my experience they are normally making snide and vicious tweet-length posts rather than long considerations of what isn't working for them.

There are also a lot of levels of critique—I've greatly enjoyed a lot of moments in isolation that I simultaneously felt weakened, contradicted, or even actively undermined the structure of the story as a whole, but those moments were still really fun and interesting beats. The Arch Heart's cameo comes to mind, as does, in hindsight, some of the construction of the post-Solstice split, but there are plenty of others of higher or lower impact on the story. In the finale the Raise Dead falls into this place very strongly, so I'm going to talk about it at length for a moment, since it was an absolutely stellar moment for me personally and as such I do think it serves as very illustrative of an example where I simultaneously fucking love a moment while finding it worth significant critique. I think it also touches on the critiques you're referring to, which I would summarize overall as the idea that many of the outcomes feel influenced negatively by pulled punches on the part of the DM rather than a flaw of one player or another. (Also, I want to talk about it cuz I love it. :3) This got very long but I think that to your point, it is worth examining in this amount of depth.

First, the good: it is an absolutely phenomenal culminating point of an arc that was only really concluded in summary; I have, as noted earlier this week, written at length about how Essek is never situated as a protagonist, which is functionally fine and even good. He ends up tied very strongly to Caleb's arc, and moves in the narrative in such a way after 2x97 that allows Caleb to reach a concluding note, and strengthens that narrative. So we only really hear about the outcome of Essek's choices, his inevitable leave from the Dynasty, in the summarization of the campaign 2 epilogue. This is not inherently a problem, because he is not a protagonist. But this moment does functionally create a material representation of that denouement, and in particular the tension between the outcomes of his poor choices and the better—potentially even good!—person he is trying to be as a result of the Nein's influence, which does strengthen his arc in its own right.

This moment also, hilariously, bears out my argument from this post. That the resurrection should only work with this intervention, particularly while the Nein are involved, does follow through on the Nein's general positioning within Exandria. Essek's leave happening without a fight (and, frankly, with only one attempted Counterspell) both makes for a very well-paced moment and also maintains the overall sense of story that the Nein impart when they are on screen; I'm thinking again of how their Ruidus episodes feel, much like their campaign and their post-campaign one-shots, like an intrigue action thriller series, and this fits well in that framing.

So overall, it is a fantastic moment... for the Nein. The Nein are not the protagonists of this story. They exist in the world, and are such active agents that they do continue to develop and exert motion on the narrative into this campaign, and frankly, I think this would have been fine if the party given ownership of this story and campaign did not abdicate their responsibility for it with unfortunate frequency. They do not exert a strong control over their story, which is at odds with the fact that the Nein do, and are present and also involved by the nature of their ending. It completely overshadows Ashton's heroic moment, in that the culminating action beat of this sequence is Essek getting away, which kind of takes the wind out of the sails of the Hells' involvement in the gods' outcome. It doesn't negate it, certainly, but it does refocus the story from them to, for some reason, Essek. So in this sense, it occurs at the expense of the Hells.

I find that while the handwaving of using dunamantic intervention to push Raise Dead beyond its limits (if indeed the reason it didn't originally work was because Ashton's brain was essentially gone) fits fine and even well within the framework of the Nein's story, and an NPC being able to do so without a roll is fine, since NPCs are vehicles the DM uses to guide the story, this is a significant divergence from the overall mechanics of the world at large; even the Nein had to do a full ritual for the resurrection of their tiefling. Matt put those mechanics in place specifically to create narrative meaning behind resurrections, which can feel very unmotivated and like a get out of jail free card in D&D, and while it's been noted that this would've really strained the runtime beyond its existing length, prioritizing it at the cost of, for instance, more truncated end notes for the Nein and Vox would've bolstered the Hells' presence in an ending to their own story that even many of their fans felt was ultimately lacking.

Giving the resurrection full weight would've also given Ashton's sacrifice and the Hells' involvement more narrative weight; the reason the other parties are involved at all is because the Hells were truly running on fumes by that point, but any lack of involvement this created could've been alleviated by having them directly involved through pre-established ritual elements that are not contingent on them having any mechanical offerings. So this moment sits within the context of critique that I agree with: that it felt like a pulled punch that ultimately also served to decenter the Hells within their own narrative, when it could've been used with more deliberate narrative force.

At the same time, I fucking love it, and watched it four times in a row yesterday, because it is so good—and it is, as I described, narratively and thematically coherent in one sense! And I think that is one issue of the campaign: many, many great moments are excellent and coherent in a certain framework but are weaker to varying degrees when considered as one piece of a larger whole. There are so many frameworks at play in this narrative, and not enough direct intervention to manage those as frameworks rather than as a single story, but at the same time, I think those frameworks are far more apparent if you're really looking for them, and that's much more difficult, if not impossible, when you're in the midst of them and telling the story.

I also don't think this means one cannot critique this; in fact, I would say this is more an issue of being a serialized narrative than an improvised one, which is often how critique of it has been pushed back against within the fandom. I was thinking about this as I'm currently in a course on, quite literally, how to critique comics, and we discussed this week how Marjane Satrapi said in an interview after making the film adaptation of Persepolis, which was first a serialized comic, that she ended up preferring the film, and I speculated that was because with a film, one has the ability to make a more cohesive narrative purely by virtue of the fact that with a serialized form, you cannot go back and make retroactive edits when new developments come to light. This is something that long-running comics must constantly navigate (as do many long TV shows), and in extreme circumstances such as decades-old comic franchises, ends up resulting in infinite timelines and hand-waving, which becomes so ridiculous that at this point it's a meme. In that scenario, though, it is not presented as a non-contradictory story, let alone a cohesive one.

Many of the critiques of campaign 3 are operating within the idea that this is presented as one overarching narrative. (And honestly, comics and other narratives that don't utilize that presentation are also still critiqued on that merit by people who greatly enjoy the texts they're critiquing anyway.) Within that context, I feel that the framing of the Raise Dead, as well as much of what would be my critique of the other pieces I referenced (the Arch Heart's cameo and some of the party-split sections) if I was to do the same kind of rundown of those, actively undermine this presentation by introducing and forefronting too many conflicting frameworks that are not interwoven well enough to create a single, cohesive overarching narrative.

This is a very long-winded way to illustrate my point, which is that I would really encourage reading critique not as a lack of enjoyment of the campaign, let alone a suggestion that no one should've enjoyed it (and if you did, then you're not smart enough to know better), but as a way to engage with the text(s) as presented within one framework or another. I think this is sometimes obscured in online fandom spaces, where we're not engaging in critique in as formal of a sense as one would in, say, an academic setting, where the norms generally dictate the framework one is using is explicitly stated if not fully delineated within the critique, but it is, more often than not, still implicitly present within the critique.

And as a final note, I would also really urge everyone reading others' opinions on something they enjoy to resist the urge to elide their own opinions from the conversation, even if you don't feel as articulate or as well-versed in critique. Critique is a trained skill, so it is certainly something one can pick up if they are inclined, and at the same time, someone doing it does not mean they are inherently right—and in fact, with all argumentative writing, it is up to the reader to consider the argument and decide whether or not they agree with it. (You can decide that you disagree with me about the Raise Dead! Just because I wrote a thousand words on it does not inherently make my interpretation truth; it's just an interpretation. You get to say whether or not you think my interpretation makes sense based on the evidence presented.) Even here I'm using the framework of some critique that others have made, but I don't delineate in full myself. In doing do I'm not presuming that you agree, but I am presuming that you've read it and know what I'm referring to. Strictly speaking it's also not even saying that I take that critique as true; it's saying that I feel the conclusions drawn are applicable as a basis for my argument. If you wanted, you could even say that you feel that my argument is irrelevant to you because you don't feel those critiques are true! But you ultimately do have to be the one to decide any of that, which does involve a balance between a confidence in the formation of your own opinions on the text and an openness to entertaining others'.

[bunji-enthusiast]

(𝐃𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲) 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐭

Characters [Kissy Missy, Huggy Wuggy, Doey The Doughman]

Note || request: idk if you're taking requests but can you possibly do small fic of kissy, huggy, and doey getting affection for the first time by y/n / the player? Platonic head kisses, hugs, that sort of thing.

Why, yes my good fellow fan. I actually loved this, omfg.

— Doey The Doughman

As an ex-employee of Playtime Co., you couldn’t shake the weight of your past. The haunting memories of the factory lingered in the back of your mind, yet there was something much deeper pressing at your heart. You had seen so much suffering over the years, and now, among the few survivors in this grim new world, you couldn't help but notice the vulnerable ones. Doey, especially.

The plump dough creature had been a beacon of hope for so many, but behind that friendly, playful demeanor, you recognized a burden. He held his group together, sacrificed his time, energy, and emotional well-being for those under his care in The Safe Haven. Even when it wasn’t necessary, he put on a brave face, especially with the overwhelming responsibility of leadership. You could see it in his eyes, that exhaustion. You suspected that he had once been a child under that appearance, his innocence hidden beneath layers of experience far beyond what a creature like him should bear.

For someone like Doey, affection was something foreign, something he rarely got, especially in such a harsh environment. Leadership had made him strong, but at the cost of his own peace. That was something only an empathetic soul like you could truly understand. You knew, deep down, that he needed care and compassion as much as anyone else. And though it was strictly platonic, affection might be the very thing that could allow him to heal — to feel like something more than the leader of a group of survivors.

One evening, after a long day of coordinating plans, you approached Doey in the quiet of the Safe Haven. He was sitting on a makeshift bench near the fire, his long, colorful arms resting at his sides, and his eyes fixed on the dim glow. His yellow, orange, and red dough belly pattern of three bendy arms seemed to ripple with the firelight.

You could see that he was tired, maybe even a little lonely, his mouth set in a soft frown. Without thinking, you moved closer, and a gentle but firm hand rested on his shoulder. He blinked, startled at first, before his eyes softened.

"Doey," you began softly, your voice uncharacteristically tender. "You’ve done so much for everyone. But you’ve been carrying this weight alone for too long."

He didn’t respond immediately, his hollow eyes looking at you through the holes in his doughy face. But there was a subtle shift, a small recognition that the burden he carried wasn’t unnoticed. You could feel the tension in him as if he was silently giving himself permission to let down his guard, just for a moment.

You kneeled beside him, reaching up to gently pat his head, careful not to be too forceful. The blue clay of his doughy scalp was soft, cool to the touch. He blinked again, this time with a hint of surprise, but you continued, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, a silent promise of care. The warmth you felt in the moment was something you hadn’t realized you needed, and perhaps, neither had he.

As you leaned back, Doey’s long orange arm slowly lifted, hesitating before it rested on your shoulder in return. You could tell he was processing the moment, unsure of how to respond, but you knew it wasn’t the kind of affection he was used to. He was a leader, after all — strong, unyielding, and often alone in his role.

But here, in the dimly lit corner of The Safe Haven, there was a quiet kind of peace. You could see the tension in his body gradually melt away. He needed this. He deserved this. After all, even the strongest of leaders were human, even if their form was a strange, colorful dough creature.

"Thank you," you murmured. "You don't have to carry it all on your own, Doey. We're all in this together."

For a moment, Doey said nothing, but the subtle shift in his expression spoke volumes. His holes, the makeshift eyes, softened as if a weight had lifted. And then, in a rare and tender gesture, he leaned toward you, wrapping his long yellow arm around your shoulder in a gentle embrace.

The warmth of his body, though made of dough, felt oddly reassuring. The hug wasn't tight or demanding, but it was everything he needed — a small, quiet moment of affection and support. It wasn’t about leadership, or strength, or the mission. It was simply about being there for each other.

You could feel his breath — or perhaps it was the absence of it — as he pulled away just slightly, his eyes meeting yours. "You're right," he finally said in his soft, humble voice. "I... I haven't been good at asking for help."

You smiled, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. “You don’t have to ask. Sometimes, it’s okay to just let others help you."

As the fire crackled in the background, you stayed close by Doey’s side, offering him the rarest of gifts — a moment of respite, of care. Just for tonight, he didn’t need to be a leader, a beacon of hope, or the one who carried the weight of so many. He could simply be Doey — the dough creature who deserved love, affection, and the safety of knowing someone had his back.

And for you, it was a reminder that even in the darkest of places, sometimes the best thing we can offer one another is warmth, care, and affection — the simple things that make us human, or in Doey’s case, something more than just an animated being. Something deserving of a gentle hug and a soft kiss on the head.

— Huggy Wuggy

It had been a long time since you had last seen Huggy Wuggy. The factory, now eerie and abandoned, had its haunting air, but there was something... different about it now. The silence that permeated the air had always felt oppressive, but as you ventured deeper, a strange sense of sadness washed over you.

The towering blue creature loomed before you in the dimly lit corridor. Huggy Wuggy stood there, as if waiting. His large black eyes stared at you, reflecting the remnants of something broken, something lost. His tall, slender frame seemed so out of place in the sterile halls of the factory, but it wasn’t his presence that made you pause—it was the unmistakable loneliness that seemed to emanate from him.

The thought had crossed your mind many times, especially after the encounters you had witnessed between him and others in this factory. Huggy Wuggy had been part of a long-lost project, a toy designed to spread love and affection, but something had gone horribly wrong. The violence he once displayed, the frenzy he brought upon anyone unlucky enough to cross his path, wasn’t his doing. It was the Prototype, manipulating him, turning his purpose of affection into something much darker.

You had made a decision—one that surprised even yourself.

The truce, strange as it was, had to mean something. The creature before you had been twisted by forces far beyond his control, but there was still a trace of the original Huggy inside. You didn’t want him to be just another victim of whatever twisted fate had led him down this path.

“Hey, Huggy,” you spoke softly, your voice breaking the quiet tension of the room. Huggy’s head tilted slightly, as if trying to understand what you were doing here.

You took a cautious step forward, your heart racing slightly. You had no idea how he would react. He had been hostile before—ferocious, even. But this time felt different. There was a hesitation in his movements, a kind of vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps, after everything that had transpired, Huggy had found the small, flickering ember of his former self.

You slowly raised your hand, offering him an open gesture—an invitation. Huggy’s large yellow hands twitched, the velcro straps on his palms shifting as he examined your hand cautiously. His face, though monstrous and alien, held a certain curiosity now, as if unsure whether to accept or reject the kindness you were offering.

Gently, you stepped closer, placing your hand on his outstretched arm. It felt surprisingly warm, almost organic. Huggy froze, and you could feel his body tense as if ready to pull away. But you didn’t back down.

In a move that could have been considered a gesture of trust, you leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head. It was a simple act—one that might have seemed odd to anyone else, but it was something that felt right in that moment. Huggy, the once terrifying creature, stood still, unsure of how to process the affection.

After a long pause, something shifted within him. He let out a low hum, almost as if responding to the touch. His large black eyes blinked slowly, as if digesting the sensation, and for a brief second, it felt as if time had stopped. The hostility that had once radiated from him seemed to fade, replaced by something almost... grateful.

You pulled back slightly, watching as Huggy lowered his head, almost as if in acknowledgment. It wasn’t much—just a small sign that the creature, so often feared and misunderstood, had been longing for the kind of kindness he had been created to offer.

Huggy’s response wasn’t immediate, but it wasn’t hostile either. Instead, he took a step closer, his large frame towering over you. He didn’t try to grab you or threaten you. He simply knelt down, lowering himself to your level. And then, with a gentle motion that seemed so foreign to his nature, he wrapped his long arms around you in a hug. It was awkward, almost clumsy, as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to hold you without causing harm. But it was there—a gentle, almost tender embrace.

You held on for a moment, a quiet smile creeping onto your face. This—this was what Huggy had been meant for. Not to be a monster, but to offer comfort, to be the source of warmth and affection he had been designed to be before everything had gone wrong.

It felt like a small victory. The kind of victory that didn’t come from defeating an enemy, but from giving someone, or something, the chance to be seen as more than what they had become.

Huggy’s large head nuzzled gently against your shoulder. Despite everything that had happened in this twisted factory, in this place of nightmares, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace.

“Thank you, Huggy,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

For a brief moment, the factory seemed less ominous, less dangerous. Huggy, the creature who had once been a source of terror, now simply wanted to be understood. And for once, in this forsaken place, you understood him.

You stepped back from the hug, your hands resting on his shoulders as you gave him a reassuring smile. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Maybe, just maybe, Huggy Wuggy could find his way back to the love he was once meant to give.

As you turned to leave, you glanced back one last time at the towering blue creature, now seemingly at peace, standing alone in the quiet, broken factory. The path ahead of you was uncertain, but for the first time in what felt like forever, you knew there was a chance for redemption—even for Huggy Wuggy.

And in the end, that was all that mattered.

— Kissy Missy

The factory loomed around you like an old, haunted memory, every creak and groan a whisper of its long, forgotten past. The shadows seemed to stretch for miles, the dim flicker of lights casting eerie silhouettes against the walls. But amidst this endless labyrinth, there was something — or rather, someone — you couldn’t shake from your mind.

Kissy Missy.

When you first encountered her, she had been a tragic figure, caught in the aftermath of violence and destruction. She had once been part of something grand, a cheerful toy meant to bring joy. Yet, years of abandonment, trauma, and violence had altered her. Despite her kindness, there was a depth of sadness within her. She had seen horrors that no one should have to bear, and now, she wandered the empty halls, looking for solace in the rubble.

You had grown fond of her over time, not just as a comrade in this strange and dangerous world but as a friend. And you knew, perhaps more than anyone, that even the toughest souls needed affection sometimes.

That night, as you walked through the cold, empty corridors of the factory, your thoughts turned back to her. Kissy Missy was injured. You could see the physical toll the factory had taken on her, the scars on her body from an unknown attacker, and the burns marking her face. But there was something else, something you could sense. Her spirit, too, had been wounded, battered by years of loneliness and violence.

You stopped in front of her quarters, the heavy door creaking as you pushed it open. She was there, slumped against the far wall, her large, dark eyes tired but still holding a glimmer of something — something hopeful, something good.

She didn’t notice you at first, her gaze distant. But you didn’t need to say anything. She’d always understood. Slowly, you moved toward her, kneeling down to her level. For a moment, you simply gazed at her, taking in her delicate features and the softness that still remained beneath the layers of pain and exhaustion.

“Kissy…” you said gently, your voice carrying the weight of unsaid things. She turned toward you slowly, her gaze meeting yours with a quiet recognition. She didn’t smile, but there was a flicker of relief in her eyes — she had been waiting, perhaps without even knowing it, for this moment.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hand softly resting on her shoulder. The warmth of your touch was met with a long, almost imperceptible sigh from her. It was as though she had been holding her breath for too long, and finally, someone had come to release her from the tension of it all.

You didn’t speak, not just yet. Instead, you simply gave her a gentle squeeze, a comforting touch that she had long since forgotten. Her eyelids fluttered, and she leaned into it, just slightly, her head dipping to rest against your hand.

The gesture was so simple, yet in it was everything. It was the kindness she hadn’t known in years, the warmth she had been starved of, the affection she so desperately needed but never dared to ask for.

Without a word, you stood up and moved behind her, pressing your palm against the back of her head, urging her forward into a soft embrace. You could feel the tension in her body, the slight tremble as she tried to stay strong, but she gave in. She allowed herself to be held for a moment, to be taken out of the nightmare of the factory, even if just for a brief while.

It was quiet — just the two of you in that forgotten place. You could hear the faint hum of the factory’s systems, the distant echoes of machinery, but none of that mattered. What mattered was that, for once, Kissy Missy wasn’t alone.

As you stood there, holding her, your mind wandered to all the things she had gone through. The years of isolation. The horror of the massacre. The unrelenting loneliness. It was no wonder she had become the way she was — strong, silent, fierce in her resolve. But beneath all of that, there was a heart that longed for connection, for love, for someone to show her that she still mattered.

You kissed the top of her head gently, a small gesture of affection, your lips brushing the soft, pink fur of her hair. It wasn’t romantic; it was something deeper, something more human. It was a promise — a promise that she wasn’t forgotten, that she wasn’t some abandoned, discarded thing left to rot in the depths of the factory.

The slight weight of her head against your chest was a silent confirmation that she understood. You weren’t going to leave her alone in this place. You wouldn’t let her carry the burden of her past by herself.

For a long while, you stayed like that. The world outside seemed distant, and all that mattered in that moment was the fragile creature in your arms. You could feel the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she took a deep, steadying breath, and you knew, for just a fleeting moment, she felt safe.

When you finally pulled back, you didn’t leave her side. Instead, you sat beside her, your shoulder against hers, offering your presence as a reminder that she wasn’t forgotten. She looked at you, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, there was something resembling peace in her eyes.

In the quiet of that factory, you promised yourself that no matter what horrors lay ahead, Kissy Missy would never face them alone. And that, for all the trauma she had endured, she could still find a little bit of warmth, a little bit of comfort in this broken world.

You didn’t have to say it aloud. She knew. And for now, that was enough.

[hkthatgffan]

February 10th. Not any important day for most people or even Gravity Falls fans. But for me, this was the day it all began. 8 years ago on Feb 10, 2017, I started my first ever watch of the show. I thought Gravity Falls was not gonna be anything major or play that big a part in my life at the time and figured it would just be a fun little show to take my mind off all the ups and downs of life at the time. Instead it became the beginning of all that I've now had the chance to do and a starting point to help me reach a better and happier overall life.

Today of course I now have this channel and community behind it, as well as the merch I've gotten over the past 8 years from official, fan made and even from Alex Hirsch himself. But back in 2017, I was just the new kid on the block and stuff like getting Journal 3 that March was a huge deal and the thing I ever bought GF merch wise. For a guy who joined well after the show ended, I'm thankful to those early GF fans I met who left a positive perception of the show and fandom on me that made me stick around and in turn, I hope I've been able to continue that with what I do for new fans who have joined since.

It's crazy honesty how sometimes a small thing you don't think about too much in the moment, can change your life in major ways. IDK where I would be rn if I never found Gravity Falls. I owe so much to the positives this show and the fandom gave me in life and motivated me towards. It of course wasn't all perfect...I mean, every fandom has its bad aspects, but at the end of the day, I'm so grateful for this amazing show and the good it's done for not just me, but so many others.

Hard to imagine that day in 2017 was 8 years ago now and how different things then were. Weirdmageddon 3 wasn't even a year old yet. The next big Gravity Falls milestone upcoming was the show turning 5. Journal 3 Special Edition was still available for preorder. Cipher Hunt had only happened a few months ago. It all felt recent then...now it's so long ago you could make a nostalgia compilation of it all, lol.

Here's to 8 years of being a Gravity Falls fan. Once a Faller...always a Faller.

[sunnysidezblog]

Spoilers, I guess, for the Desmond Miles story/games?? Idk they're games that've been out for years, but I thought it was only polite. If you don't care, then the rest is under the cut. I just need to get my love for and thoughts on Desmond out of my system.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

The thing I find most tragic about Desmond miles as a character is the fact that even though the assasins preach freedom, Desmond was never given the freedom of choice until the very end and even then it wasn't a real choice.

We don't know much about Desmond's time at the farm when he was growing up, but it's insinuated multiple times that he was hit by Bill, or that he had been abused in some way.

He grew up in a place where he wasn't given a choice in whether or not he wanted to be an assassin. That in itself breaks one of the core values of their creed, which is that they fight on the side of freedom. And one could, and should, in my opinion, argue that the freedom of choice is one of the most important rights someone can have. The freedom to choose to fight for something is fundamental to what the creed is all about.

Then, he finally is able to make a choice on his own when he runs away from the farm. He thinks everything they've told him is a lie, that templars aren't real, and there's nothing to worry about. He finally makes a choice, yes, but it was one that was predetermined from the very start. The isu knew he would do it. They calculated it and set up dominos to knock over when the time was right, down to the millisecond.

Desmond Miles was very much set up to die, much like a lamb raised for slaughter. He ran away to see the rest of the world and only got to see that world for 9 years. He was always destined to be caught by the templars, fall in love with and get betrayed by Lucy, he was always meant to die.

His entire personality was also manufactured if one would like to argue that. The isu made sure that the steps leading up to his demise were calculated to perfection (with the exception of Juno, who even with little wiggle room was able to manipulate conner). Desmond's entire personality-- his humor, his attitude towards life, and his roll over stance to his mistreatment.

By giving him the childhood he had and then running away, he was hardened and had been instilled with the creeds' principles and then was exposed to the rest of humanity. He probably always had compassion and kindness for people, and that part of himself was probably increased when working as a bar tender because bar tenders see the world at their best and their worst, and he himself after having fought for his place in the world knows how resilient humans can be.

He was given an impossible choice that wasn't much choice at all, seeing as there was never supposed to *be* a choice at all. The only reason there was a "choice" was because of Juno. Minerva originally only set up the eye to be the only choice, leading Desmond to his willing-but-unwilling sacrifice, but Juno threw a wrench in the plan.

Not only was he given the most impossible choice ever, but he made the one everyone was expecting him to because in his eyes, what else was he supposed to do? Let most of humanity, which consisted of 7 billion people at the time, die? Because what, a megalomaniac false god thought she could reenslave humanity after she's long since passed?

Even more tragic is that he was arguably tortured before his death as well. He had to watch his ancestors go through horrors and conspiracy. He had to go into the animus and feel what they felt, whether it be injuries or emotions.

He felt the stab wound Altair got, and the betrayal Altair felt as his father figure was revealed to be a Templar in disguise. He felt all the injuries Ezio sustained and felt the horror and shock and betrayal and grief that Ezio felt watching half his family die. He felt the inner turmoil of Conner as he was thrust into a world that hates people like him and had to suffer the pain of knowing he'd have to kill his father AND he lost Achilles, who was a father figure to him.

Desmond was forced to live three lifetimes, and while doing so, he lost control of his own life. He suffered from the bleeding effect, he lost all sense of time, he suffered ridicule by people who were supposed to be his comrades. He suffered further under the harshness of his father.

And he was never given a choice, and neither were any of the others up until the point of his death, which is what to me makes his character so tragic and appealing. The entire timeline could have shifted, had he made different choices or his personality was just a tiny bit different.

This aspect is also why I think that his death is so underwhelming in terms of satisfaction. Maybe that was the point, though. His death, maybe, was supposed to feel anticlimactic and unjust. Maybe the ending was supposed to, instead of feel like a real ending with a good conclusion, was more so meant to emphasize he never had a choice to begin with.

Anyway, I just think Desmond is neat. Have this:

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

For your thirty years cat Stan chapter, after thirty years would Stan just, y’know, prefer being a cat? Like, would he spend more time in cat form, or just feel a little uncomfortable as a human? I can imagine being human comes with a lot of different expectations and anxieties that it would make sense that Stan would just, not wanna deal with it, lol.

Or, like, if we wanna get angsty about it. Stan spent thirty years as a cat, creating and maintaining human relationships must be very hard after that. And even before he was turned into a cat, he wasn’t very good at it and was incredibly self destructive.

Or being human comes with social expectations and rules and all this stuff Stan was never good at in the first place. Now having to live by them again so suddenly must be anxiety inducing. In a way, being a cat freed Stan from a life he felt he was failing at anyway.

Being turned back into a person, with person expectations, would be rather traumatizing I imagine. Especially when he’s been dehumanized by others and, at least subconsciously, dehumanized by himself as well.

Plus, Stan has been dead to everyone else for years at this point and I imagine that Ford wouldn’t talk about him too much seeing as he’s emotionally repressed as hell. So Stan feeling insecure about whether or not he’s still lovable as a person would def be interesting.

Idk, I just wanna rotate this man around in my head, y’know? Sorry that this is so long😔

Stan definitely prefers to be a cat now. He was a cat for about as long as he'd been a human, and now all his human habits and conversation skills are toast. He blurts out whatever he's thinking constantly, tries to do all the same things he did as a cat, and doesn't know how to talk to people anymore.

And he doesn't know how to talk about any of it, so it becomes frustrating for everyone else when he's given the option to be human, and he doesn't.

Ford has talked about Stan occasionally, in a very bittersweet way, but Stan's still not actually sure he wants Stan around. It's one thing talking about your brother you think is dead, another to actually have that brother around. What if Ford didn't actually miss him? What of he's angry about Stan lying for so long? What if all the affection was just Fords guilt?

The moment Stan can, he def tries to run away, at least a few times. He doesn't know how to handle everything happening, and Fords obviously going to kick him out when the kids leave. Ford is not doing that. Ford is freaking out because he can't find Stan. He can't lose the brother he just found!

It's a very stressful time for everyone.

[hellishchrissy]

fexi ig au part 20345: a very merry dump of posts from their various holiday seasons together as a married couple

(in loving memory of angus <3)

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[spaghett-onaplate]

depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed

[ohsweetflips]

somewhere on this blog there is a post that goes something like "what if i just start identifying as nonbinary and don't tell anyone and still go by she/her" and that needs to be marked as the day that pandora's box opened

[savage-rhi]

Magenta.

[delightfuldevin]

Sometimes I wish I actually liked having long hair

[orcelito]

Actually, on the topic of the baby fever. God it's so frustrating. Bc when I was like 14 ish I was Adamant that I never ever wanted kids. And my dad said smth around the lines of "that'll likely change" (probably from his own experience with this) and I was like NO. it WONT.

And then eventually, age 21-22 ish, I admitted that Okay, I still don't want to have my own kids, but someday maybe I'll adopt...

And Now, 27 years old, I got the general baby fever on occasion. It Did fucking change. And I don't know if I actually WILL bother with having my own kid (I still don't want to go through the hassle and massive body changes). But god. I do see a fucking baby and feel that stab of longing. It's almost like my damned hormones betrayed me or smth. Maddening!

I shall simply write fanfic about it.

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[earl-grey-crow]

.

[guinevereslancelot]

i should be able to call in sleepy to work