#inspiration struck and i couldn't. we're here now

[faxaway]

this curious mf always analyzing something

feat live @peskellence discord reaction:

[archaeren]

How I learned to write smarter, not harder

(aka, how to write when you're hella ADHD lol)

A reader commented on my current long fic asking how I write so well. I replied with an essay of my honestly pretty non-standard writing advice (that they probably didn't actually want lol) Now I'm gonna share it with you guys and hopefully there's a few of you out there who will benefit from my past mistakes and find some useful advice in here. XD Since I started doing this stuff, which are all pretty easy changes to absorb into your process if you want to try them, I now almost never get writer's block.

The text of the original reply is indented, and I've added some additional commentary to expand upon and clarify some of the concepts.

As for writing well, I usually attribute it to the fact that I spent roughly four years in my late teens/early 20s writing text roleplay with a friend for hours every single day. Aside from the constant practice that provided, having a live audience immediately reacting to everything I wrote made me think a lot about how to make as many sentences as possible have maximum impact so that I could get that kind of fun reaction. (Which is another reason why comments like yours are so valuable to fanfic writers! <3) The other factors that have improved my writing are thus: 1. Writing nonlinearly. I used to write a whole story in order, from the first sentence onward. If there was a part I was excited to write, I slogged through everything to get there, thinking that it would be my reward once I finished everything that led up to that. It never worked. XD It was miserable. By the time I got to the part I wanted to write, I had beaten the scene to death in my head imagining all the ways I could write it, and it a) no longer interested me and b) could not live up to my expectations because I couldn't remember all my ideas I'd had for writing it. The scene came out mediocre and so did everything leading up to it. Since then, I learned through working on VN writing (I co-own a game studio and we have some visual novels that I write for) that I don't have to write linearly. If I'm inspired to write a scene, I just write it immediately. It usually comes out pretty good even in a first draft! But then I also have it for if I get more ideas for that scene later, and I can just edit them in. The scenes come out MUCH stronger because of this. And you know what else I discovered? Those scenes I slogged through before weren't scenes I had no inspiration for, I just didn't have any inspiration for them in that moment! I can't tell you how many times there was a scene I had no interest in writing, and then a week later I'd get struck by the perfect inspiration for it! Those are scenes I would have done a very mediocre job on, and now they can be some of the most powerful scenes because I gave them time to marinate. Inspiration isn't always linear, so writing doesn't have to be either!

Some people are the type that joyfully write linearly. I have a friend like this--she picks up the characters and just continues playing out the next scene. Her story progresses through the entire day-by-day lives of the characters; it never timeskips more than a few hours. She started writing and posting just eight months ago, she's about an eighth of the way through her planned fic timeline, and the content she has so far posted to AO3 for it is already 450,000 words long. But most of us are normal humans. We're not, for the most part, wired to create linearly. We consume linearly, we experience linearly, so we assume we must also create linearly. But actually, a lot of us really suffer from trying to force ourselves to create this way, and we might not even realize it. If you're the kind of person who thinks you need to carrot-on-a-stick yourself into writing by saving the fun part for when you finally write everything that happens before it: Stop. You're probably not a linear writer. You're making yourself suffer for no reason and your writing is probably suffering for it. At least give nonlinear writing a try before you assume you can't write if you're not baiting or forcing yourself into it!! Remember: Writing is fun. You do this because it's fun, because it's your hobby. If you're miserable 80% of the time you're doing it, you're probably doing it wrong!

2. Rereading my own work. I used to hate reading my own work. I wouldn't even edit it usually. I would write it and slap it online and try not to look at it again. XD Writing nonlinearly forced me to start rereading because I needed to make sure scenes connected together naturally and it also made it easier to get into the headspace of the story to keep writing and fill in the blanks and get new inspiration. Doing this built the editing process into my writing process--I would read a scene to get back in the headspace, dislike what I had written, and just clean it up on the fly. I still never ever sit down to 'edit' my work. I just reread it to prep for writing and it ends up editing itself. Many many scenes in this fic I have read probably a dozen times or more! (And now, I can actually reread my own work for enjoyment!) Another thing I found from doing this that it became easy to see patterns and themes in my work and strengthen them. Foreshadowing became easy. Setting up for jokes or plot points became easy. I didn't have to plan out my story in advance or write an outline, because the scenes themselves because a sort of living outline on their own. (Yes, despite all the foreshadowing and recurring thematic elements and secret hidden meanings sprinkled throughout this story, it actually never had an outline or a plan for any of that. It's all a natural byproduct of writing nonlinearly and rereading.)

Unpopular writing opinion time: You don't need to make a detailed outline.

Some people thrive on having an outline and planning out every detail before they sit down to write. But I know for a lot of us, we don't know how to write an outline or how to use it once we've written it. The idea of making one is daunting, and the advice that it's the only way to write or beat writer's block is demoralizing. So let me explain how I approach "outlining" which isn't really outlining at all.

I write in a Notion table, where every scene is a separate table entry and the scene is written in the page inside that entry. I do this because it makes writing nonlinearly VASTLY more intuitive and straightforward than writing in a single document. (If you're familiar with Notion, this probably makes perfect sense to you. If you're not, imagine something a little like a more contained Google Sheets, but every row has a title cell that opens into a unique Google Doc when you click on it. And it's not as slow and clunky as the Google suite lol) (Edit from the future: I answered an ask with more explanation on how I use Notion for non-linear writing here.) When I sit down to begin a new fic idea, I make a quick entry in the table for every scene I already know I'll want or need, with the entries titled with a couple words or a sentence that describes what will be in that scene so I'll remember it later. Basically, it's the most absolute bare-bones skeleton of what I vaguely know will probably happen in the story.

Then I start writing, wherever I want in the list. As I write, ideas for new scenes and new connections and themes will emerge over time, and I'll just slot them in between the original entries wherever they naturally fit, rearranging as necessary, so that I won't forget about them later when I'm ready to write them. As an example, my current long fic started with a list of roughly 35 scenes that I knew I wanted or needed, for a fic that will probably be around 100k words (which I didn't know at the time haha). As of this writing, it has expanded to 129 scenes. And since I write them directly in the page entries for the table, the fic is actually its own outline, without any additional effort on my part. As I said in the comment reply--a living outline!

This also made it easier to let go of the notion that I had to write something exactly right the first time. (People always say you should do this, but how many of us do? It's harder than it sounds! I didn't want to commit to editing later! I didn't want to reread my work! XD) I know I'm going to edit it naturally anyway, so I can feel okay giving myself permission to just write it approximately right and I can fix it later. And what I found from that was that sometimes what I believed was kind of meh when I wrote it was actually totally fine when I read it later! Sometimes the internal critic is actually wrong. 3. Marinating in the headspace of the story. For the first two months I worked on [fic], I did not consume any media other than [fandom the fic is in]. I didn't watch, read, or play anything else. Not even mobile games. (And there wasn't really much fan content for [fandom] to consume either. Still isn't, really. XD) This basically forced me to treat writing my story as my only source of entertainment, and kept me from getting distracted or inspired to write other ideas and abandon this one.

As an aside, I don't think this is a necessary step for writing, but if you really want to be productive in a short burst, I do highly recommend going on a media consumption hiatus. Not forever, obviously! Consuming media is a valuable tool for new inspiration, and reading other's work (both good and bad, as long as you think critically to identify the differences!) is an invaluable resource for improving your writing.

When I write, I usually lay down, close my eyes, and play the scene I'm interested in writing in my head. I even take a ten-minute nap now and then during this process. (I find being in a state of partial drowsiness, but not outright sleepiness, makes writing easier and better. Sleep helps the brain process and make connections!) Then I roll over to the laptop next to me and type up whatever I felt like worked for the scene. This may mean I write half a sentence at a time between intervals of closed-eye-time XD

People always say if you're stuck, you need to outline.

What they actually mean by that (whether they realize it or not) is that if you're stuck, you need to brainstorm. You need to marinate. You don't need to plan what you're doing, you just need to give yourself time to think about it!

What's another framing for brainstorming for your fic? Fantasizing about it! Planning is work, but fantasizing isn't.

You're already fantasizing about it, right? That's why you're writing it. Just direct that effort toward the scenes you're trying to write next! Close your eyes, lay back, and fantasize what the characters do and how they react.

And then quickly note down your inspirations so you don't forget, haha.

And if a scene is so boring to you that even fantasizing about it sucks--it's probably a bad scene.

If it's boring to write, it's going to be boring to read. Ask yourself why you wanted that scene. Is it even necessary? Can you cut it? Can you replace it with a different scene that serves the same purpose but approaches the problem from a different angle? If you can't remove the troublesome scene, what can you change about it that would make it interesting or exciting for you to write?

And I can't write sitting up to save my damn life. It's like my brain just stops working if I have to sit in a chair and stare at a computer screen. I need to be able to lie down, even if I don't use it! Talking walks and swinging in a hammock are also fantastic places to get scene ideas worked out, because the rhythmic motion also helps our brain process. It's just a little harder to work on a laptop in those scenarios. XD

In conclusion: Writing nonlinearly is an amazing tool for kicking writer's block to the curb. There's almost always some scene you'll want to write. If there isn't, you need to re-read or marinate.

Or you need to use the bathroom, eat something, or sleep. XD Seriously, if you're that stuck, assess your current physical condition. You might just be unable to focus because you're uncomfortable and you haven't realized it yet.

Anyway! I hope that was helpful, or at least interesting! XD Sorry again for the text wall. (I think this is the longest comment reply I've ever written!)

And same to you guys on tumblr--I hope this was helpful or at least interesting. XD Reblogs appreciated if so! (Maybe it'll help someone else!)

[babacontainsmultitudes]

🤔 Admittedly I was a little disappointed by the reveal (but certainly not surprised the foreshadowing was heavy in this episode lol), but not actually against how Beth (and Will) seem to be playing with it thus far- which is to say that I do think it has a lot of potential, and I suspect there's more to what we're seeing).

;) Big ol' ramble below

Mostly the theory has turned me off until now (at least insofar as I've witnessed it transpire in the fandom at large) because it struck me as so painfully ironic to see Trudy, a 1950s housewife, struggle to exist under the system that she's in, fail to fit the mold assigned to her, and be denied her personhood very literally for it (this being ironic insofar as how it mimics how she would have been treated back then). This and because frankly I just think she's a lot less interesting if she's fully a robot LOL, but I'll hopefully get to that in a bit.

Not that the hints at her mechanical nature and the relevance of Tucker's background were lost on me; I can appreciate why those would contribute to a plausible, fun and I think still mostly harmless theory (now fact). However, minus one or two specific posts I've seen on the matter (namely a recent one suggesting that if Trudy is a robot Beth is probably taking inspiration from The Stepford Wives, :( sorry person who made that post I couldn't find it I wanted to credit yoouuu), I've seen the theory just about exclusively presented in a manner that, rather than explore the metaphorical and political significance of Trudy being partially or fully mechanical, at best disregards the parts of her narrative that are at their core about sexism (among other related things), and at worst negates them entirely (i.e. Trudy only thinking and acting how she does because she's a robot malfunctioning and not because the world itself is causing harm and she rightfully wants something more than the role she was forced into, Trudy not even having any real thoughts and feelings of her own, etc.). I just think it kind of sucks to shove all those important things about her aside and say "actually, there's no person suffering here, she's just a robot" and perhaps worse yet to imply that she does have thoughts and feelings but because they result in Weird™ behavior it must be a problem with her code and not at all relate to what women were subjugated to during this point in American history.

CONVERSELY I don't think Trudy being a robot (or at least partially one) at least from what Beth and Will have presented us thus far, inherently suffers from any of these issues? First and foremost because Trudy definitely appears to possess sentience, thoughts, and emotions of her own, matters which immediately complicate her degree of personhood and don't inherently box her behavior in as a bug in her programming rather than an issue with the world she's been put in, quite the opposite in fact! I think they have a very solid groundwork laid out here to make a strong statement with Trudy's narrative (and perhaps ask the question of what is really malfunctioning here), all the more so since [I pull out a Rebecca Swallows-style conspiracy board] I don't think she's entirely robotic in nature? Actually you should just read Mack's tags in this post cause he has great thoughts on the matter (of which those are just some of them), but if I can direct your attention to one thing in particular, it would be Beth's fact (I *believe* from episode 2) about Trudy never graduating high school because of her essay where she suggested that "perhaps women could one day domesticate themselves", a statement that could of course be interpreted a number of ways but ultimately threatened the patriarchal status quo enough (in suggesting women's independence) to cost Trudy her diploma. Taken on its own this fact appears to contradict the theory that Trudy has always been robotic in nature, because it doesn't really make sense that Trudy would have been set up to go through high school (or school at all really) when Tucker's intention was/is for her to be the perfect housewife. You may then suggest that Trudy's memories of this are fabricated and not actually her lived experiences, in which case firstly perhaps you should reread my earlier point on the robot theory being used to actively negate and otherwise disregard the portions of Trudy's narrative that pertain to sexism and feminism, and secondly it really doesn't make any sense to me that Tucker would implant those kind of memories into Trudy's brain? To be completely honest if she's been a robot from the very beginning (rather than someone who became a cyborg, which is what I'm trying to suggest here), then I don't see why Tucker would program her with actual sentience in the first place (suspending my disbelief here with regards to the possibility of programming sentience to begin with). It seems much more likely to me then that Trudy was not always a robot, and instead altered by Tucker to force her into a role of subordination and remedy her """imperfections""". This option is significantly more interesting to me one, because it implies that Trudy has actually lived a life up until the present, full of its own complexities and strife (and dreams, and real actual memories worth exploring, etc.), and hence is not by any means "just a robot", and second because it amplifies the hypothetical statement being made on the lives of the real living women of the era and how they were treated and seen as being "in need of fixing" for not conforming to gender roles or otherwise acting "out of line" with what was expected of them.

OKAY THIS GOT OUT OF HAND SO I'M CUTTING MYSELF OFF HERE but I wanted to my share my current thoughts what with this ending and where I'm at so hopefully that was at least interesting to whoever has chosen to read through this one okay thank you byyyyyyyyye~

[the-amazing-wonderss]

"Talk that talk"

A/N: Back at it again with another HC inspired by TWICE... This time it's actually going by the meaning of the song ALSO IGNORE WHAT I DID FOR AOI'S HEADER I GOT TOO INVESTED ANYWAYS ENJOY HELPCLPCS ⎯ Mod ☠️

Content: Fluff, no gender mention for reader aside from the word 'pretty' that is used in Aoi's part, short HC, not properly proof read/edited Summary: "Just tell me you love me already!"

Characters: Aoi, Teru, Akane

Talk that talk ⎯ Let me know the real you, let me see what's behind all that sugary sweetness in your voice. Don't wanna waste time with the push and pull, just say it out loud and I might say it back.

AOI would be surprised hearing your question towards her. For a brief moment you could see how she froze up and contemplated on your words as her smile drops, going silent for a long time before letting out a chuckle.

It was silly, so laughable even. For you to ask her something so insanely cute that she couldn't help but find it so endearing while you sat there looking all pretty, waiting for her answer.

When she had finally came to a conclusion, still refusing to meet your eyes and instead, stared down at her lap while her hair strands covered most of her face. You began to worry if the question had upset her. Oh but you were wrong. So wrong.

If she were to look up at you right now, you'd seen the embarrassing sight of her flushed redden cheeks and lovestruck smile. Obviously she can't let you see that side to her yet. So for now...

"You're so mean ... to ask a girl for her feelings straight up. I should honestly reject you right here and now for that, y'know?" "Aoi I'm being serious, I want to know..." It was then that she said it, barely even louder than a whisper, did she say something that made your heart skip a beat. - "⎯ I heard a rumor, that she (I) loves you back."

Tell me what you want ⎯ The simple words "I love you." That's all I wanna hear. Doesn't matter where we are, who we are, and what we're doing ⎯ baby I just wanna hear it and fall in love with you all over again.

When you first ask TERU about it, he was probably in the student council room buried in work again. But upon seeing you after you had open the door to the room, he was beaming from ear to ear, that princely smile that made everyone ⎯ including you ⎯ fall for his charms.

However, after he hears your question towards him, his smile drops from shock. Had he not already made it clear how he feels about you? It struck him like a slap across the face to hear you say all this but...

With a sigh leaving his lips, he suddenly leans in. Coming in so close to you that you could feel his everything. The way he had one hand on your waist while the other was holding your chin to look up at him. Whereas with your hand that rested on his chest, you could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat.

You could feel your face growing hotter by the second from how bold his movements were suddenly, mind especially racing when he leans in even closer to your ear ⎯ whispering while holding you so intimately... You might as well just pass out at this point⎯!!

"You can feel it, can't you? How fast my heart is beating so fast for you, only you, just you. " "Teru...I⎯" - "I love you, Y/N."

Tell me what you need ⎯ Enough with the jokes and preparation, get straight to the point and say it. Stop beating around the bush, stop acting like a lovesick fool, just let me love you already damn it.

He's absolutely jaw dropped at hearing your question towards him, him of all people. AKANE is just?? so baffled?? so flustered that he just gapes at you right after you finish talking. Did you not see his previous confessions to you?? Were they so lacklustre you didn't even consider them as confessions!??

But when you started to talk more about the underlining reason as to why you felt the way you felt, he slowly began to understood what you meant. Although he may act goofy at times, he's still the vice president, y'know?

He's bit upset (at himself) but he's not entirely mad about the situation at all, in fact, he's glad to know how he made you feel ⎯ or more so, how you actually felt about him. It's so funny that he can't help but laugh at how silly the situation took a turn to.

Akane tried so hard to impress you that he didn't even realise you felt the same. He's such a fool for you, a lovesick fool who can't keep his hand off of you. Suddenly taking you in his arms to embrace you in a tight hold as his shoulders shake from laughing so much, he loves you. He absolutely loves you.

"I can't believe you feel the same way." "I've alway had been, you were just so..." "I know, I know... I'm sorry." - "I love you so much, Y/N."

[cera-writes]

I love all your fics and i read you wanted to write song fics, and I've been obsessed with TTPD and Gambit this past month, so I was thinking in a hiper angsty fic inspired on this album and other songs, where Gambit meets Avenger! Reader, who is in her twenties, and they have a secret relationship because it could be a disaster between their teams, and she doesn't know Remy and Rogue's history, so when they break up and he goes back to Rogue, the reader doesn't know if everything that they had was real to him, plot twist Remy was using her to get information all that time. And she's heartbroken, but at the same time, she has so much rage.

Some songs by taylor swift that give me the vibe of their relationship: "Gorgeous", "Suburban Legends", "willow", "Slut!" "august", "Guilty as sin?", "Florida!!!", "The smallest man who ever lived", "down bad", "my boy only breaks his favourite toys", "how did it end?", "Would've, could've, should've", "dear john"

plus: "Silver Springs" and "can't catch me now" because he'll always be tormented by her love

* Sorry if there's something you can't understand, English is not my first language!!! Also, I don't know if you like Taylor or if this is a long request for you, so I understand if you don't write this, but I hope it can help you when you need inspiration.

And thanks for feeding the Gambit nation, his fics are scarce and everything you write is amazing xoxoxo

-💫

A/N: hello fellow Swiftie~ I wrote these sectioned into mini parts! It'd probably take me a while to write a full length fic but I summarized their relationship according to each song you requested :) Pairing: Remy "Gambit" LeBeau x (Avenger) AFAB!Reader

Tangled Threads (A Gambit/Avenger!Reader Songfic)

Part 1: Gorgeous (and secret trysts)

He sauntered in, that Cajun charm dripping like molasses, a smirk playing on his lips that could disarm a bomb squad. Gambit. Not exactly Avenger material, an X-Man, but here he was lounging in the small speakeasy, all roguish charisma and smoldering unusual eyes. The two of you had struck up a secret alliance, amidst a blossoming relationship.

"He's gorgeous," you thought, trying to focus on the holographic briefing flickering before you. "Gorgeous enough to be a criminal mastermind." The internal voice was probably right.

He caught your eye, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Mind if I join the party, cher? Looks like you could use some company."

You rolled your eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. *"This isn't a party, Gambit. Briefing. And besides. we're supposed to be secretive."

"Even briefings need a little spice, wouldn't you agree?" He leaned closer, his voice a low rumble. "Besides, I brought intel."

That piqued your interest. Intel was always welcome, especially from someone as questionable as Gambit. The next few hours were a blur of stolen glances, whispered strategies, and a thrill that sent shivers down your spine. This shouldn't feel so good, not with him on the other side of the line.

But there he was, effortlessly weaving himself into the fabric of your world, a secret melody in the symphony of my life. "And you're right here, right next to me," the T-Swift song echoed over the ambiance of the bar, perfectly capturing the forbidden electricity crackling between you.

Stolen moments turned into stolen nights. Rooftop rendezvous under the city lights, whispered secrets amidst the chaos. You were a tangled mess, a love story written in code, a secret waiting to be exposed.

"Deep down, I know this is delicate," the lyrics resonated with the fragile nature of your connection. "But I can't turn away." The danger was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit you couldn't resist. But the fear, a persistent whisper in the back of my mind, gnawed at you.

Was it real, or was it just a game? Were you just another pawn in Gambit's grand scheme? The thought sent a tremor through you. "Maybe we got something good," the song continued in your headphones, painting a hopeful picture despite the growing doubt.

But hope, like trust, was a fragile thing. One day, the melody would change, the chords turning discordant. And when it did, the fallout would be a symphony of heartbreak.

Part 2: Willow (and Whispers)

"We can't keep doing this," you whispered one starlit night, the weight of your double life heavy on your chest. "It's too risky. We're on opposite sides."

He pulled you closer, the familiar warmth a bittersweet comfort. "Love doesn't play by team rules, cher." You could never tell what he was thinking. He always had that damn poker face.

"If this was an open shut case, I never would've known from the look on your face, Rem," you replied, challenging his open statement.

"Heh," he smirked. "Daring though, non?"

"But it can get us both killed," you countered, the voice you used for briefings laced with unspoken fear.

"Maybe that's the thrill, yeah?" He winked, the playful facade a mask for something deeper. "You're a prize I'd cheat to win, chere."

A knot tightened in your stomach. Was it just a game to him? Was he another "august slip away into a moment in time," a fleeting fling he'd discard when the thrill faded? "Guilty as sin," you thought, a line from another song echoing your turmoil.

Part 3: Slut! (and Lies)

The news hit you like a psychic blast. Remy LeBeau, back with Rogue. Public declarations, lovey-dovey photos splashed across mutant newsfeeds. The air felt thick with betrayal, the stolen moments tainted with a sickening suspicion. "Slut! Oh, you're the only one who even tried." The song ripped through you, a cruel mirror reflecting your shattered trust.

Fury simmered, a storm brewing beneath the hurt. Were you just a pawn in some twisted game? "Down bad, down bad, but I won't cry." You wouldn't let him break you. Rage, a fiery ember, ignited alongside the heartbreak. Maybe this was for the best. Your reputation had never been worse. At least you could focus on your team and not Remy anymore. But who were you kidding? It hurt.

Part 4: The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived (and Doubts)

Days turned into a blur of training, a desperate attempt to drown the doubts. "Was he the smallest man who ever lived?" You questioned everything, replaying his words, searching for a crumb of truth. Had he ever loved you, or was it all an act? A cruel manipulation to infiltrate the Avengers?

Part 5: Dear John (and Deception)

You cornered him, the raw emotions a maelstrom in your eyes. "Did any of it mean anything, Remy?" The question hung heavy in the air.

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Always cherish the memories, cher. But some things just can't last."

"Would've, could've, should've," you seethed. "Was it all a lie?" The words were a gut punch, a desperate plea for the truth.

He turned away, a flicker of regret in his eyes. "Maybe that's a story for another time."

Raw, unbridled anger burned through your veins.

"Right," you spat, the bitterness dripping from your tongue. "Just another girl you used and discarded." The weight of his betrayal settled on you, a heavy cloak.

Chapter 6: Can't Catch Me Now (and a Tangled Future)

The training room became your sanctuary. Sweat turned into tears, the pain fueling a relentless drive. Punches became declarations, each blow a defiant roar against his betrayal. "Flying like a jet stream, faster than the white cars can go." You wouldn't be some damsel in distress, a mere conquest in his web of lies. You'd become stronger, faster, a force to be reckoned with.

He might call himself Gambit, but the real gamble was his. He'd bet on manipulating you, using you for his own ends. But the tables had turned. You wouldn't be another forgotten pawn in his game.

One day, your paths would cross again. And when they did, you wouldn't be the naive hero he'd once known. He might slip through your fingers like charged cards, haunted by the ghost of a love he couldn't keep. But as you soared through the air, empowered by rage and renewed purpose, one thing was certain:

"You can't catch me now."

Hope this was okay! I tried to use most of the songs you listed! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[lostinforestbound]

Inspired by @slumpsnail 's piece of their Dark Rolan concept! Check out their other piece here!

The Rise or The Downfall of a Wizard's Apprentice?

CW: Blood, Death, Description of Breakdown

The first emotion was shock. Rolan couldn't move from his place on his knees as he watched his master clinging to whatever life he had left. His hands are stained red, settled on his lap while Lorroakan crawls to him, his own blood seeping onto the floor in rapid speed. Rolan can't recall what he did exactly, but it was during one of his usual beatings. Something about being a "failure" and "an idiot who deserved everything he gave to him". The memory is fuzzy now, he didn't even realize he stopped shaking from fear.

Lorroakan doesn't say anything, not that he could from the pain, but he looks fearful. A fear of death, perhaps? What a coward.

His mouth spits blood out, and he looks ready to beg. For mercy, Rolan hopes, because how humiliating would that be, for a master to beg for his life from his student?

His mentor doesn't get the chance before he stops moving, the life leaving his eyes, wide with a permanent terror. Rolan wonders if he's going to one of the Hells, his soul forever tortured.

After the initial shock dies down, he runs his hands down his face, uncaring of the blood trail he leaves on his bruised cheekbones as his eyes shine with glee. He killed Lorroakan, the Lorroakan, and yet he felt nothing but pure joy. Is this how Tav feels when they kill someone they hate? This addicting satisfaction that makes his blood rush with adrenaline?

By the gods, is he going insane? He can't find it in his heart to care, so he laughs.

He laughs and laughs, loud and prominent, echoing in the stillness of the room. What a fool he has been. Was it always this easy to kill someone? Does it matter now? It felt so fucking good. Even as he calms, his happiness still remains. In all honesty, he thought he could have died here. When he first struck his master, it was out of terror. He was going to beat him again, and he pleaded for him to stop. It didn't work, and when his teacher's staff raised once more, he held out his hands and- Bursting into a new, quiet giggle fit, he rests his head on his still-wet hand, staring down at the body with a smile. "Oh how the mighty have fallen, Master Lorroakan. Though, you were not mighty to begin with."

A small part of his breaking mind is screaming at him, wondering what in the hells has he done? What would Cal and Lia think if they saw him now, practically bathing in his master's blood? What would their mother think? What would they think when they realized he it enjoyed it?

It doesn't matter, they're all dead, including the man he once was.

He gets up on surprisingly steady feet, leaning down and grabbing Lorroakan's hair by the scalp, beginning to drag it towards the balcony. "Master Lorroakan, do you believe in karma?"

There is no response, but it's not as if he was expecting one. The body's getting cold.

"I'm not talking about you, oh no, I'm talking about yours truly." He says casually, grip tight. "My parents abandoned me, and when I get adopted into another one, their mother dies. Then The Descent, where I saw prowling devils and undead roam the streets, tearing people apart. When we finally escape, we're exiled by Elturel, our only home. When we finally make our trek to Baldur's Gate from a grove that hated us, Cal and Lia are eaten alive by shadows."

He finally reaches the railing, leaning against it to rest briefly. "Then, when I eagerly arrive to you with nothing, you beat me for saying the wrong answers to nonsensical questions. Yet look at you now."

Lifting the head to his face, he grins happily as he stares into the lifeless eyes of his mentor. "Master, I believe karma is finally on my side, after all this time. This tower is mine now," he snorts, trying not to laugh again, "I suppose I should thank you! None of this would have happened if it weren't for your weakness."

He picks up the body proper now, getting closer to the railing. "Goodbye, Master. I'm sure there's a special place in the afterlife, just for you."

Without thinking twice on it, he throws Lorroakan's body off the edge, watching it fall down the edge of the tower. He can't see the bottom from here, but he can't only imagine the body mangling as soon as it hits the ground. The people down below probably won't recognize who it is, but that doesn't matter.

All of this knowledge in the tower he now has access to, but where to start? He should probably clean all the blood but...no, he'll keep the stains there for a while longer, as a reminder of one of his greatest achievements.

A spineless wretch is what Lorroakan was. A pathetic, greedy human who wanted to keep this almost infinite knowledge and artifacts all to himself. Now it was all Rolan's, the new master of Ramazith's tower.

Master Rolan has a good ring to it, and he's too excited to get started on his infinite studies.

That's when he notices that dwarven man in the corner of the red stained room, shaking like a leaf. Another apprentice under Lorroakan. He saw everything. What was his name again? Ah, well...

He fires his magic missile in an instant, killing the man from where he stood with the brightest smile he's ever had in many years.

There cannot be witnesses, now can there?

Part 3

[lazilybeinglassie]

Mark Of The Baked

One Shot by LazilyBeingLassie

Inspired by @/sunseed-fandump "The Devil's Encore"

Characters: Gingerbrave, Strawberry Cookie, Wizard Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie

Summary: Shadow Milk creates a dream where he can talk to the three cookies. Offering a proposal and a piece of information.

Notes: I had a headcanon, that I know isn't real, but for the sake of character expansion I'm running with it!

The sun was bright and hot, giving everyone the brightest smiles and determination to work hard. Cookies running around, accomplishing tasks that were needed to be done. Baking, farming, building. And when cookies weren't working, they were mingling, playing, or just enjoying the fresh air.

Gingerbrave was making his rounds on the kingdom, seeing if he was needed anywhere. More and more cookies were finding their way to this place, which meant jobs were getting filled up more and more. Sure it meant he had less to do, but that didn't bother him all too much as it gave him time to travel and see his friends from across Earthbread.

Like . . . Pure Vanilla Cookie . . . Why was that the first name that came to his head? In fact, hadn't he just been talking with him not too-

His thoughts were interrupted at the sound of distress further into the center of town. No one seemed to be reacting to it, so the brave cookie decided to check it out himself. He could hear the sounds of cake hounds not too far from him as Gingerbrave stumbled upon a merchant cookie who was fighting them off with a broom. The cookie was blue and dressed in a sweater and jeans, defending a cart full of cabbages that were ripe and ready to sell. If they made it to the stand that was.

"Go away! These aren't for you!" The cookie wacked away, but they were not giving up so easily.

"Hey," shouted Gingerbrave, "scram! All of you!" With his candy cane, he smacked them back, giving some distance between the two.

The little pooches however seemed more and more angry as they crawled closer and closer to them. It was gonna be a big fight for sure. Nothing he couldn't handle of course. Then suddenly . . .

CRACK! BOOM!

Lightening struck in front of the cakes, scaring them back to the forests where they came from. Both of the cookies were a bit shocked at first as they looked up to see there were no clouds in the sky. Not a storm in sight. That could only mean one thing.

"Gingerbrave," shouted Wizard Cookie, running over to the two with Strawberry Cookie following, "I didn't accidentally hit you, did I? I was estimating my shot, but-"

"No no! We're both fine! Thanks for spooking them, Wizard Cookie," Gingerbrave thanked.

The pink hoodie cookie smiled as she clutched her lollypop in hand. "We heard the noise and hurried while we could. I wonder how cake hounds got inside the kingdom?"

"Doesn't matter now," stated the ice cream cookie, "the danger is gone."

The merchant cookie smiled warmly as he approached them. "Thank you so much for protecting my goods! I thought I was a goner for sure."

"No problem," Gingerbrave said, "don't think we've met. What's your name?"

"Call me Blueberry Milk Cookie. I was just simply passing by as those monsters came after me."

"Huh. I would have thought someone would have noticed."

Looking back at the other cookies, they all seemed so caught up in what they were doing, it felt like they didn't even notice that a skirmish occurred. Not even when Wizard Cookie's spell was cast.

Strawberry walked up to her friend. "Should we be worried no one's talking to us?"

"I said hi to about three cookies on the way here. None of them answered back," Wizard added.

Gingerbrave hummed. "Guys? Is it weird that I feel like we're not suppose to be here?"

The three felt their dough shiver as they looked at each other. Something was very wrong. And they were piecing it together slowly.

"Hehehehehe!"

A giggle echoed around them as Gingerbrave, Wizard and Strawberry turned to face Blueberry Milk Cookie. Or at least, who use to be. The cookie that stood in place turned to static as it reshaped itself into the trickster himself.

Shadow Milk Cookie.

"And here I thought we could keep this up for about eight more minutes," said the jester, "oh well!"

Quickly, the trio backed up as they wielded their weapons defensively. Gingerbrave and Wizard in front with Strawberry behind them. Someone as unpredictable as him was every reason why their senses sharpened and focused.

"What are you doing here in Crispia," yelled Gingerbrave, "White Lily sealed you back in the Silver Tree!"

"Now now, little cookies-" The jester smirked knowing that Wizard was looking extra irritated at that phrasing. "-you should know a professional always has a plan b in case of . . . interferences. Though I honestly want to see if you can guess where we really are? Go on!"

His comment got them thinking for a bit as they looked around again. Now the cookies around them were frozen still. Petrified in whatever position they were in at the moment. It felt so freaky. But as they pondered it for a moment, an answer came to them.

"Is this . . . not real," Strawberry asked aloud.

"An illusion? No, a dream perhaps," Wizard theorized.

Sounds of an applause came to their hearing. "Ring ding ding! Looks like we do have some smart cookies here! Yes, while I cannot do anything in reality, reaching your minds is nothing more than a simple feat. The only real cookies here are me and you three. A perfect moment for us to chat." There was a small growl that laced his sentences as the trickster walked on air, circling them delightfully.

Gingerbrave pointed his cane at the villain. "Whatever you wanna say, forget it! No way are we trusting a liar like you!"

"Aw, don't be so rude, Ginger~! I have no intention of harming a single crumb on either of you," sung Shadow Milk as he appeared next to the brave cookie to pinch his cheek.

"Lies," Wizard snapped, "we all remember what you did back at the Faerie Kingdom! What you did to Pure Vanilla Cookie! To White Lily Cookie! To Elder Faerie!"

The blue cookie leaned in close to the magic cookie, causing him to back up in fear. "That old fool crumbled on his own terms, mind you! Still, I guess I could take the credit if you're offering it. Ehehehe!"

"Just get out of our dreams! . . . Er, dream . . . since this counts as just one dream-"

Gingerbrave took a chance to hit him with his candy cane, only for it to pass through Shadow Milk like he was a ghost. The beast walked away from them slowly as he rambled on. "In due time, little cookies. For now, I do believe we have something to discuss about that very much will be in your interest!"

"If it means you leave us alone after that, then get it over with," GIngerbrave demanded.

As the jester sat down on the edge of the fountain, he reached for his neck ruff and snapped it open as it hung over his shoulders. It looked weird to see the actual neck of this cookie for a moment. Then he stretched his leotard collar to reveal something underneath.

Something that got the trio's attention for sure.

It was faint, worn overtime, but they could see it clearly. On his chest was a marking of some sort. A thinly lined circle with a three pronged fork in the center. Shadow Milk grinned at their reactions of utter silence and shock. "I'm certain you know what this is. Just like how I know you each have one like this as well."

They flinched. Gingerbrave and Wizard tensing up, and Strawberry reaching for her shoulder as she whimpered.

Shadow Milk snapped his ruff back together as he chuckled. "It's very rare for baked cookies to be wandering around Earthbread these days. But I never thought the first things I would see after waking up would be three very freshly baked cookies! Which only means those idiots are still kicking and making more!" He floats in the air as he hovers closer to them with wide eyes. "Tell me, where exactly is their hut, by chance?"

"W-Why would you ask us that," Wizard stuttered.

"Come now, surely you would remember the way back to your own creators!"

"We don't!" Gingerbrave stepped forward in defense. "We'd rather never go back there, ever!"

"OOOOOoooooh! Rebellious! Mrehehehehe! So I guess that means you're going against your master's wishes then! I must say, I approve!" Shadow Milk playfully leaned back midair as if he were sitting in a recliner.

"Wh . . . What do you mean by that," Strawberry asked while clutching her weapon close to her chest.

In that moment, the jester's smile dropped, exchanging for an expression of confusion. Sitting up he looked at the pink cookie in curiosity. She didn't like that he was. And neither did the others as they stood in front of her.

"Wait . . . do any of you know why you were made?" Silence. Shadow Milk for a moment seemed quite literally clueless for a moment. "Well that's new. Usually cookies aren't baked unless they had a task to accomplish or . . . oh . . . OH! EhehehehahahahaHAHAHAHA!" The beast howled in laughter as he pieced it together. "No way! You were made as snack cookies, weren't you!? And you ran out of there like your life depended on it! OH this is just too perfect! Well, more sad for you, but still."

Each of the young cookies shrunk a little. Memories of the witch's hut were never pleasant. Yet the one thing they never could pin down was why the witches would make them with a consciousness if all they were made to do was be eaten. Even if they tried to not think about it, there would always be times where those questions would come back to haunt them again.

In the end, what they were really was what Shadow Milk said they were. Snacks that were just lucky to be alive by a fluke. In a sense, it made them feel empty inside. Lost? Alone? Sometimes. But more like they had little value to themselves. Just cookies. Nothing more.

The jester could see their dismay as he smiled widely. Landing on his feet, he walked slowly towards them. "I assume you've not met another cookie who was baked like you were? Or at least, another one that escaped fate like you have? I also must assume none of you have told anyone, have you?" They suddenly looked at him in fear as he approached Gingerbrave, patting his head. "Now now, don't you worry. Your little secret origin is safe with me. I should understand after all, what it is like to be a creation of the witches." He wanders behind Strawberry, placing his hands on her shoulders. "In a sense, I suppose that would make us siblings of some sort. Much like me and my comrades are." Finally he moves to Wizard, shifting his hat to fit his head more properly. "Guess that makes me big brother Shadow Milk Cookie, huh? I like the sound of that!"

Wizard stepped back as he fixed his hat and glared at the beast. "As if! Being baked by witches doesn't make us family!"

"Ehe! Why not? It's the closest thing you might get to one."

Gingerbrave gripped his candy cane. "You're wrong! We have friends that already care for us back home! The first time we met, you corrupted an entire kingdom and killed its king! Who also was our friend!"

"A friend who served the witches? The very creatures you defied for survival," the jester clarified, "you do know how to pick them then. Hehehe!"

Getting angry, the brave cookie swung his cane. As he did, Shadow Milk turned into a cloud as he faded away, reappearing at a distance from them. Wizard tried to attempt using lightening magic on him, only for the beast to take it and stand there, unphased by it. They were mad, scared, and wanted out of this dream.

"The point I'm trying to get across here is that your goal to survive the witches is one the cookies of Earthbread will never understand. They consider them to be gods! Deities! Even the St. Pastry Order believes them to be holy beings that only ever have good intentions for them! And yet you trust these cookies with your lives. Though, not enough to let them in on your little secrets."

"And what reason do you have for us to trust you," demanded Wizard.

The grin didn't fail to widen as he spread his arms. "Because we are the only ones powerful enough to accomplish what Dark Enchantress could never accomplish! To kill the witches once and for all!"

The trio gasped in surprise. Could it be done? Should it be done? The witches, erased from the world?

"Tempting, isn't it? A world where there is no need to be afraid of being eaten. A world where we have no fear of anything! One where we can choose to shape it as we wish!"

" . . . You mean destroy," Strawberry uttered, the sounds of irritation bubbling in her tone.

"Ahahahaha! Well, destruction is an important part of making that new world! But in it's place will be one of, well I consider to be never ending fun! And each of you can have a place in that." He holds his hand out graciously. "You are owed at least that for what the witches have done."

In that moment, they all looked at each other. Thoughts crossed their minds, some good intentioned, others slightly selfish. But there truly was no other conclusion for such a decision.

"Maybe that's what you want," Gingerbrave started, "and maybe some of that is something we wanted as well. But to help you accomplish that so you can do whatever you want is something we don't want. Not when it can hurt cookies we care about."

Strawberry, feeling braver, stepped forward as she held out her lollypop. "Our kingdom in Crispia has become a home for us. Not just our friends. One that we vow to protect from the witches and those who would destroy it for their own selfish gains. There are cookies on Earthbread who are kind and gentle. Brave and strong. Ones we know that want the same thing as we do! To have a home and place here!"

"Right!" Wizard stomped his staff on the ground and spoke aloud. "We've found our place in this world! And we plan to fight for it just like everyone else is! So don't you dare think that we'll turn our backs on it for anything less than that!"

They awaited for the jester to speak. Shadow Milk's smile by now had faded to a frown. His glare at them was intimidating and hollow. Though once a moment had passed, he smiled again, smaller this time. "I see. So you've chosen your side then. Alright."

Wizard spat for a bit. "Wha-That's it!? Nothing?! I would have thought you had another speech in there to curveball this whole conversation!"

"No need! Yours was already convincing enough. Very well done. I highly doubt anything I have to offer would be as tantalizing as what I've already given you. Such a shame." Then his eyes widen as well as his grin. "Guess you'll just crumble like the rest of them."

The kingdom caught fire as flames surrounded the trio. Engulfing buildings and cookies within them as they panicked. The intensity of the heat frightened them, almost feeling like it was real. As they looked for an escape, silhouettes of the five beasts rise in the air, glaring them down with bright eyes. Shadow Milk swiftly zooming in close to their faces as he grew large in size and chuckled.

"Just remember. You chose this."

The last thing they heard was his wicked laughter as they were consumed by the fire.

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

Gingerbrave, Wizard and Strawberry screamed as they woke up that morning. What an awful nightmare that was. They each took a moment to breathe and calm down, grounding themselves in the facts. The Silver Tree was still standing, and the beasts were locked up. They couldn't hurt them . . . for now.

The scream did alert Pure Vanilla, White Lily, as well as some of the faerie cookies. Silverbell and Mercurial Knight had ran in to check on them once they heard the cries, only for the cookies to dismiss the panic as a bad dream. To which they were gentle and comforting about it.

Gingerbrave was wanting to speak up about it, tell them what happened, but was stopped by Wizard and Strawberry who wanted to keep it a secret for now. Too shaken by the incident to really openly talk about it to others. Especially since there was some personal stuff involved in it. He protested, but caved in favor of making them feel more comfortable.

As the day went on, the trio were keeping close to each other, with Strawberry clinging the most to whoever was closest to her. Their nerves were on edge, and feared that they would see Shadow Milk appear in the corner of their sight. Or worse, hear his cackle in the distance.

Pure Vanilla had attempted a few times to try and talk to them, but they kept a lid on things as best as they could. Which felt wrong, but at the same time, it was just how the beast assumed. They never really went into their past with the Ancients. Nor did they plan to.

By the end of the day, the trio were back in their room, dreading the night's sleep. Rightfully so though. Unless Shadow Milk had nothing else to discuss with them that was.

Gingerbrave looked to his hand. At the palm was a mark. Much like Shadow Milk, it had a circle, but the image inside instead was a smiling face. One that looked joyful.

Strawberry once more reached for her shoulder. Even under her hoodie, she could feel the engraving of it as clear as day. Within the circle was an image of a strawberry.

Wizard noticed a reflective surface as he turned to it. Lifting his hat slightly, he shifted his ice cream hair, revealing his own mark, which had a star at the center of it.

Baked by the witches. Meant to be consumed, and ceased to be. What more could there really be to them than that?

*********************

I had a lot of fun thinking about this one shot. I love these guys so much, I just wanted some angst. I hope you guys like it too!

[acourtofladydeath]

Sunday Funday

Hello loves!! I'm back and ready to roll. I'll likely be writing at a slower speed early in this year as I prepare for a big test, but you know that I'll always deliver something. Right now I'm working on a few things:

🏛️ TSOA Book 2 is well underway. I'm trying to keep the chapters of this fic shorter, so we will see how long it takes!

⛰️ Inspiration struck and I couldn't help myself. I know I said I was working on Draetos first for FW, but I've started a Brennaolin fic instead. Haven't you always wondered what happened during the Battle for Aretia? Well - we're about to find out.

✍🏽 But don't fret - my Azris Dead Dove fic and the Draetos sequel are both on the docket for my next pieces after these two!

Can't wait to share more fics with you all. If you missed them, here are my last two pieces!

🔥 My Heart's Aflame, My Body's Strained (But God I Like It): What happened when Azriel brought Eris back to the Hewn City after saving him from Koschei at the end of ACOSF?

🦇 Take These Broken Wings Chapter 7, And Learn To Fly: Emerie helps Cassian meet a new training partner, and the future of Illyria is discussed.

[hanakoofthejungle]

HuskerDust Sinatra playlist (to be updated)

Given Husk and Angel's time when they were alive, Sinatra's songs would no doubt fall into their mutual category of favorites. I believe Angel would very much like Sinatra's crooning considering Sinatra's melancholy voice, him being also Italian and having alleged connection to the Italian mob. Husk spent so much time in casinos so surely he knew all of these songs like the back of his hand.

Below are the songs that I find would fit well into their inner thoughts and stages of their relationship. When Sinatra sang, he didn't just sing a song, he was telling us something from his heart which I imagine is what Husk wanted to say to Angel and vice versa (and there are duets :))). You will see that Husk was allocated more songs than Angel. This is because I firmly believe Husk is the more sappy and sentimental one in the relationship.

Who knows :)) these songs might inspire some fanfictions. Whatever you imagine, Sinatra can provide :)))

One song might have different version sung by Sinatra. The ones listed here are the most fitting in my opinion. These are all youtube links because some came from nice musical films/music shows and some aren't available on spotify.

The pining stage (sprinkled with some self-loathing/insecurity in case they didn't think their feelings were mutual)

Husk

These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)

These foolish things remind me of you You came you saw you conquer'd me When you did that to me I knew somehow this had to be

It could Happen to You

All I did was wonder How your arms would be And it happened to me

Half As Lovely (Twice As True) (or Husk's insecurity about himself being just a washed-up drunk while Angel could have anyone he wants, also mention of Angel's facade. This is the perfect song :))))

I'm only one of those who thinks of you and sighs, Just another who knows your laughter and lies. I wish that you were someone who was half as lovely, twice as true. I love you, I love you, too much it seems, for any fool can see, With your heart so crowded with other dreams, how can you dream of me?

Bewitched

I'm wild again, beguiled again A simpering, whimpering child again Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I Couldn't sleep, wouldn't sleep Then love came and told me I shouldn't sleep Bewitched, bothered, and bewildered am I Lost my heart, but what of it?

Angel

I Don't Know Why (I Just Do)

You never seem to want my romancing The only time you hold me Is when we're dancing I don't know why I love you like I do I don't know why, but I do

I fall in love too easily (This fits Angel so well)

I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast I fall in love too terribly hard, for love to ever last My heart should be well schooled, 'cause I've been fooled in the past And still I fall in love too easily, I fall in love too fast

Glad to be unhappy

Unrequited love's a bore And I've got it pretty bad But for someone you adore It's a pleasure to be sad

Prisoner of Love

Alone from night to night You'll find me too weak to break the chains that bind me. I need no shackles to remind me, I'm just a prisoner of love.

The confessing stage

Husk

Zing! Went The Strings Of My Heart

Dear when you smiled at me I heard a melody It haunted me from the start Something inside of me, started a symphony Zing! Went the strings of my heart

Then Suddenly Love (I can imagine Angel kick the door open :)))

I never heard bluebirds, the songs that they sing, I never get crazy, not even in spring, Then suddenly love struck me like lightning, Love it blew up a storm, Love suddenly grabbed me, and ooh, was it cozy and warm 'Cause I found you, now I no longer just exist, Ooh, what a change, it started from the time we kissed

Angel

I Get a Kick out of You

Some they may go for a cocaine I'm sure that if I took even one sniff It would bore me terrifically too Yet I get a kick out of you

I've Never been in Love before

I'm full of foolish songs And out my song must pour So please forgive this helpless haze I'm in I've really never been in love before

Husk and Angel

You're Awful (A silly duet confession of love :)))

Husk: Those words that everyone knows But my thoughts gets mangled, And all the words get tangled, But since you asked me, here goes: You're awful, awful good to look at, Awful nice to be with, awful sweet to have and hold. You're nothing, nothing if not lovely, Nothing if not dazzling, nothing but pure gold, You're frightening, frightening me when you say That you might go away, You're boring, boring into my heart to stay. You're cheap, dear, cheap at any price, dear, Cheap for such a diamond, Cheap for such a pearl, What I said before, I'll say again, You're awful, awful nice to be my girl. Angel: You're old, dear, old with worldly wisdom, Old like Gorgonzola, old like finest French champagne, You're so-so, so-so, so-so kinda charming, So-so kind of witty, so I can't explain, Husk: Can't stand you, I can't stand you giving some fellow the eye, Can't stand you in the arms of another guy, Who needs you? Need you to distraction, Need you too this crazy, need you rain or shine, Both: I'm the one who needs you, And I think you're awful, awful nice to say you're mine.

The dating/domestic bliss stage (sprinkled with some angst/couple fights)

Husk

[How Little It Matters] How Little We Know

Who cares to define what chemistry this is? Who cares, with your lips on mine, how ignorant bliss is? So long as you kiss me, and the world around us shatters, How little it matters, how little we know.

I Could Write A Book

If they ask me, I could write a book About the way you walk and whisper and look I could write a preface on how we met So the world would never forget And the simple secret of the plot Is just to tell them that I love you a lot Then the world discovers as my book ends How to make two lovers of friends

That Old Black Magic

Those icy fingers up and down my spine The same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine The same old tingle that I feel inside And then that elevator starts its ride And down and down, I go 'Round and 'round, I go Like a leaf that's caught in the tide

Too Marvelous for Words

You're much, too much, and just too very very To ever be in Webster's dictionary And so I'm borrowing a love song from the birds To tell you that you're marvelous Too marvelous for words

Polka Dots And Moonbeams

In my frightened arms, polka dots and moonbeams Sparkled on a pug-nosed dream There were questions in the eyes of other dancers As we floated over the floor There were questions but my heart knew all the answers And perhaps a few things more Now in a cottage built of lilacs and laughter I know the meaning of the words? Ever after? And I'll always see polka dots and moonbeams When I kiss the pug-nosed dream

Witchcraft

'Cause it's witchcraft, wicked witchcraft And although, I know, it's strictly taboo When you arouse the need in my My heart says yes indeed in me Proceed with what your leading me to It's such an ancient pitch But one I wouldn't switch 'Cause there's no nicer witch than you

Dear Heart (Husk waited for Angel to come home from work)

Dear heart, wish you were here to warm this night My dear heart, it seems like a year since you've been out of my sight A single room, a table for one It's a lonesome town all right But soon I'll kiss you hello at our front door And dear heart, I want you to know I'll leave your arms never more

Husk and Angel

We Just Couldn't Say Goodbye

We thought that love was over, that we were really through, I said I didn't love her, that we'd begin anew, And you can all believe me, we sure intended to, But we just couldn't say goodbye. The chair and then the sofa, they broke right down and cried, The curtain started waving for me to come inside. I tell you confident'a'lly the tears were hard to hide, And we just couldn't say goodbye. The clock was striking twelve o'clock, it smiled on us below, With folded hands, it seemed to say, we'll miss you if you go. So I went back and kissed her and when I looked around, The room was singing love songs and dancing up and down. Now we're both so happy because at last we've found That we just couldn't say goodbye.

Kisses and Tears

Kisses and tears, it's up to you If we laugh or we cry through the years Unless you trust me, whenever a doubt appears Your future with me will continue to be kisses and tears You're crying again, you're sighing again Can't we patch it up this time? I guess it's alright, we've finished our fight It's just about kiss-time

Nothing in Common

Our two goals are apart as the poles are As lovers our roles are completely miscast Let's make a clean break And not take any chances 'Cause outside of thinking you're something divine And outside of wanting your lips close to mine We've got nothin' in common We've got nothin' in common at all

How Are Ya Fixed for Love

How are ya fixed for someone to watch the rain with? To stroll down the line with? For someone to just go a little insane with? How are you fixed for memories? Memories that shine so bright? If we let fancy take us We could make us a few tonight How are ya' fixed for someone who'll fit your arms like a glove? Hey, tell me baby, how are ya' fixed for love?

Bonus: Sinatra's Loser, baby a.k.a Here's To The Losers

Here's the last toast of the evening, here's to those who still believe All the losers will be winners, all the givers shall receive Here's to trouble-free tomorrows, may your sorrows all be small Here's to the losers, here's to the losers, here's to the losers Bless them all!

[wanderingaldecaldo]

2025 Writing Resolutions

I'm not usually one for resolutions but I've been kicking around the idea of having some writing goals after the post I shared last week, and came up with a few that are feasible:

Finish the first draft for one (or both!) of the stories I started last year in new-to-me fandoms

Edit and post the Presidential PWP

Finish the DA:I Blackwall fic that's been 95% complete for years

Daily 15min sprint

Some personal musings about writing (and reading) and WIPs under the cut.

Last fall I lost my Cyberpunk hyperfixation but, after three years of nonstop Val and Mitch (and Rosalind) through VP and modding, it's been a boon to my writing, and once more I'm reminded why I love hate one of my oldest hobbies. I really wish I could reassure my younger self that actually, no, I'll never run out of things to write.

Over my tumblr break, I rewatched the whole Daniel Craig Bond series, all because I really wanted to watch Skyfall, my fave of the entire franchise. Something new happened this time around as I watched the films — Judi Dench and Daniel Craig's chemistry gripped me by the throat and wouldn't let go.

I'm not generally one to visit AO3 (or ff.net back in the day) after consuming a piece of media; I could list out the ones that have on two hands, and still have several fingers left over, even with including the new ones mentioned here.

This time, I was lucky to have found a ship with a backlog of fics to work through. For weeks I read fics, and rewatched their scenes ad nauseam, ever thankful I'd bought the 4-disc set and wasn't reliant having the correct streaming service. Eventually inspiration struck and I started what I thought would be a oneshot. But where there's a WIP there's always more ideas lurking around the corner, and suddenly the oneshot developed into two chapters, with the second spinning quickly into a third.

Over the course of a two-week head cold that knocked out all writing aspirations, I binged all of Ted Lasso and became enamored with the characters and themes, but especially the relationship between Ted and Rebecca. As I watched, I didn't know the status of the show; in fact I had assumed season 4 was in the works. :sad trombone: No slow burn for me. After I finished it, I wanted to rewatch it immediately but decided not to; I wanted to sit with it first, to let it digest. I really didn't think I'd reach the AO3 stage — usually it's like the proverbial bolt of lightning that strikes quickly — but this time, appropriately, it was the friends-to-lovers trope that I adore.

Again, I was lucky to find a veritable treasure trove of fics. I wasn't the only one who wanted more of those two, and again, I found myself inspired with an idea that was two lines of dialog and half a scene held together with spit and twine, and since then it's spaghettied into —yes, you guessed it — three chapters.

Neither of them are anywhere close to being shitty first drafts; they're hand-scratched pages written over consecutive nights where I wrote seven sentences, or maybe seven words or even paragraphs, before nodding off over the notebook. The 00M fic has 2k words transcribed, and that's just the first half of the first chapter, while the rest is mostly vibes and smut, and now there's a fourth chapter, because of course there is. The tedbecca has less than a quarter of that, but it's at least all transcribed now.

Enter Cyberpunk 2.2 and remaking Val and falling in love with this stupid kleptopunk streetrat all over again. Glory shared a "what AO3 tag are you" quiz and I got "only one bed" and said it was ironic since I'd never written one, and she jokingly (???) challenged me to change that. Welp, friends, my brain couldn't stop poking at that and now I have an idea for a new fic featuring fan fave "only one bed" trope, and also a fix-it, another first. Usually I am content to leave canon as is and play within the margins and behind-the-scenes of what we're given, though maybe I will add my own touch to scenes; but I always felt that Driss's death was cheap and easy to avoid. Maybe if we'd been given an actual RPG with real choices, it could have been, but that's a topic for a different rant.

And with the reignited love for Cyberpunk, plus the desire to mark things off my to-do list, I opened the Presidential PWP tonight when I was going through my folders, and my god, it happened — I'd forgotten it! I read a few paragraphs and decided I need to save the reread for another night when I can read it uninterrupted and take fresh notes on it. Probably should recruit a beta, too.

Another very long standing to-do is the Blackwall fic. I started it in maybe 2015, and worked on it off-and-on for a couple of years alongside a ME Shakarian/Shaeed love triangle (don't at me), trading off between them as the hyperfixations switched back and forth. The Blackwall fic is a true oneshot and has been waiting on an ending for for 6+ years now. It's literally 95% done, and I fucking adore it so much, and just need to Write It, and get that draft out the door (and maybe to a beta? idk, we'll see).

So that gets to the last resolution — this is the one that I know I'll fail in that I won't do it daily; I will miss days. But it's an aspirational goal, and I know firsthand how beneficial writing daily is, even if I only get a few words out of it. It still gets the ol' compost bin in my brain going in the background, churning all those ideas and thoughts into more WIPs.

I've also been thinking about the why. Writing is one of my oldest hobbies, following reading and video games. Returning to the Cyberpunk setting runs the risk of me picking up VP and modding again, newer hobbies that offer faster and more immediate feedback from other fans; hobbies that I know will cut into both my desire to write and my free time. By writing out my... writing resolutions, it will be easier to remember my priorities for the year.

Rat asked about our writing accomplishments in 2024. I answered that I wrote four new characters in two new-to-me fandoms, and that I let myself move from projects as did my interest without guilt. Now, it feels freeing to have four fandoms and a dozen stories to choose between when I want to write, but I will say the color-coded notebooks are getting hard to keep track of.

[wizzard890]

what got you so into the french revolution?

When I was in school for medieval art history, I did a lot of work on saints and their martyrdoms, particularly how the viewers of art depicting suffering imagined suffering, and how the agony/eroticism of those feelings induced a sort of memetic spiritual euphoria. Which means that I spent a ton of time looking at images of executions. I've seen them all: beheadings and sexymen shot full of arrows, saints barbecued or flayed or eaten by wild animals, criminals broken on the wheel -- all the classics. Or at least, I thought I had, until I encountered this triptych in my senior year of college:

This, by Belgian artist Antoine Wiertz, is The Visions of a Guillotined Head, painted in the late 1840s. Wiertz was a symbolist, and spent a great portion of his career drawn to the macabre, never more notably than on the occasion that inspired this painting.

In February 1848, two notable French criminals were due to be executed by the state. The guillotine was of course still in use as a method of capital punishment (and would be until the 1970s), and Wiertz was curious as to what a so-swiftly severed head felt and saw. He wasn't the first; since the guillotine's invention there had been legends of heads that blinked and blushed and tried to speak after separation. Luckily, Wiertz had a friend who was a hypnotist (as you do). Timed to the moment of the execution, he had his hypnotist pal put his soul "into rapport" with the dead criminal, and claimed that he entered the head itself as it fell.

He later recalled his experiences at some length in writing, but since we're talking about me, here is the important passage, dictated as he "felt" the horror of execution:

A horrible buzzing noise, the sound of the blade descending. The victim believes that he has been struck by lightning, not the axe. Astonishingly, the head lies under the scaffold and yet still believes it is above, still believes itself to be part of the body, and still waits for the blow that will cut it off. Horrible choking! No way to breathe. The asphyxia is appalling. It comes from an inhuman, supernatural hand, weighing down like a mountain on the head and neck. A cloud of fire passes before his eyes. Everything is red and glitters.

Now comes the moment when the executed man thinks he is stretching his cramped, trembling hands towards the dying head. It is the same instinct that drives us to press a hand against a gaping wound. And it occurs with the dreadful intention of setting the head back on the trunk, to preserve a little blood, a little life.

This fucked me up so bad.

I am well aware that consciousness after having your spinal cord severed is a done deal. I was aware of this in college. But there was something about this artist's act of imaginative empathy that compelled me, for the first time, to think about the guillotine in particular. About the mechanical wait, not being pushed off a drop or axed while kneeling, about being slid through on a board, of seeing the basket beneath you, already full of heads. Maybe even heads you know.

I imagined it so hard that I made myself sick and couldn't go to class for two days.

The reason I studied what I studied wasn't because I was ghoulish. In fact, I'm a little squeamish. It was because in the experience of pain, we are all deeply individualized, but entirely, helplessly human.

I laid in bed and thought about the small number of humans who I, an educated layman, knew had been guillotined: Marie Antoinette, obviously; Louis XVI; and (in what felt like black historical irony, given what I knew of his day job) Maximilian Robespierre.

It felt intrusive to have intimately imagined their last, most private moments, without really having any idea about them at all. Better to start at the end and work backwards, I thought. So I started reading.

Robespierre, decapitated by guillotine when he was thirty-six. That's the manner of death. How did he meet his death? In terrible pain, I learned. Why? Because he'd had half his jaw blown off the night before. Jesus, why? Because he'd (maybe probably) shot himself. Why?

It turns out, if you keep doing that, a piece at a time, for years, you can learn a lot about someone's life. And, relatedly, in long and branching paths, you can find your way into every nook and cranny of what burned through France at the end of the 18th century.

[frozen-fountain]

It's ten years today since I made a pilgrimage down to Brighton to see Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds live in concert. My purpose today isn't to get into the circumstances that preceded this or the specific reasons why being there meant so very much to me; maybe some day I'll do that under this name as well. For now, suffice to say it was the best show I've been to, and one I doubt will ever be surpassed. I think the Bad Seeds were on stage for the better part of three hours, with two encores and everyone clearly having a great time, reflected just as strongly in the audience. I really hope I get to go again eventually, though it'll be a more sombre affair now. And that's fine. I've always looked on his music as a big congregation that plumbs the depths of human existence without ever denying or shutting out the light, and it's this that's struck such a resonant chord with me across the years and made him one of the most key pillars in my musical journey.

One of my most vivid memories of the night doesn't even concern what was happening on stage. The whole time, I was fascinated by the two ageing punks sitting in front of us. I love ageing punks; I was raised by one, and they're my favourite people at shows because of their sheer enthusiasm for the music and utter disregard for what's generally considered age-appropriate dress and behaviour. Deeply inspiring stuff. But I remember one of them lifting both fists in a cheer when this song (from 1986) started playing – and he did the same for Higgs Boson Blues, a track from the contemporaneous album. And I was struck by what a gift it must have been to watch this wonderful group evolve and shift over the years, to meet new songs at different stages in life, and to remain no less excited for their new creations even decades later.

It was many things, but to me, it was a thick, bold line under what I'd spent the previous year working to convince myself of as I left my youth behind me, and that this band's congregational music helped so much in drilling through my obstinate, oblivion-seeking skull: there are and always will be things worth sticking around for.

I don't know anything about this man besides what the back of his head looks like and his enthusiasm for Bad Seeds old and new. He never even turned around to look at me in turn. I highly doubt we'll ever meet again, and if we do, I'll have no way of knowing it. But I still smile every now and then when I listen to Sad Waters, or simply when my mind wanders back to the show from time to time. When I need to remember the future is unwritten and the world has a capacity for many things, and one is endless surprise. Regular readers of whatever it is I'm doing here will know my young life was not the happiest, and I expended a lot of time and energy wrestling with the desire to end it. As I write this I'm closing in on the eight-year anniversary of the last time I seriously contemplated suicide – which is something I couldn't have even dreamed about saying back in 2013. It's these experiences, these moments of connection between strangers through the shared appreciation of another stranger's artistic expression, that go along way to making this so, and I'll never forget it.

This last decade has intensified a cultural shift that was gathering steam around the time of the concert. And one of many reasons I feel conversation can be so divisive and contentious is that we're rapidly becoming more aware to how badly we can hurt one another through simply existing as we are. Whether it's the descendants of colonisers reckoning with the ways we continue to benefit from that bloody history, or men being pushed to evaluate the allowances they are granted to take up space persistently denied women, or any of us learning the benefits of initiating awkward conversations about boundaries in our interpersonal lives, what is bit by bit rising to the surface of our awareness is how easy it is to become a bad story in someone's life just by being people. It's a very difficult thing to come to terms with no matter who you are.

And I wanted to write this memory down and share it because, at least to me, it's a reminder that we can help one another, too, and often without trying or knowing. You don't know what you might have done for a stranger you had no idea was watching. A simple, unguarded gesture that I doubt this man thought about for so much of a second has stayed with me, cheered me, and reminded me of several crucial lessons when I most needed them. If I've learned anything in the years since it's that, simply by being you and being open with your joys, I can guarantee you're someone's good story, too. Even if you'll never know about it.

In the meantime, if you're so inclined... maybe tell me a story about a time a stranger helped you in a similar way?

[sleetsong]

This enemy was far too strong, although it was thanks to an old bout with Toguro that inspired an idea in Yusuke. He needed to sacrifice himself to give his friends the rush in power that they needed to take this man down..at least then this world would be safe. Safe for his mother who loves him, Genkai that save him direction, Keiko for her kindness and friendship and then Ami..someone that surprised him more than anyone, a friendship that he truly wanted to see if it would turn into something more. Before Sensui delivered the final blow against him his eyes found Ami's as they arrived in time to see Yusuke be struck down. His lifeless body was on the floor, breathless and completely silent.

                                   SHE HAD TO HURRY! How could he rush off alone! Ami was willing to handle & deal with alot when it came to Yusuke. The fight against HUMANS & YOKAI alike, having to witness the CARNAGE that was the Dark Tournament & somehow, someway keeping hold of her own mental sanity & becoming a cheerleader for Yusuke & all of team Urameshi as whole; helping whenever she could after fights with her own medical knowledge for the humans of the group while also going over strategies for fights given the fact that in her own group, she was the TACTITIAN. She never pushed her ideas, only gave advice while helping to keep both Kuwabara & Yusuke walking. Services was offered to both Kurama & Hiei as well, but only Kurama took the senshi up on it when needed. 

                                     & when she finally had to CONFESS to the other senshi who couldn't understand why Ami was spending so much time with someone who was the opposite of her, just WHY & how they were interconnected with the Yokai, with even some of them having dark moons on their heads, the consensus was clear. If NEEDED they too will answer the call. Hence why all five of them ran through that cave with Ami at the helm having a read on the large amounts of spiritual energy. 

             ALMOST THERE--WE'RE COMING! HANG ON!

                                    Being just close was not enough. The girls tried, they really did & had their own run in with Yokai instructed to keep out anymore intruders. They were SCRAPPED, BLOODIED, TIRED YET STILL PRESSED ON. The light from where they needed to be got closer & closer with the sounds of battle to accompany it. Her heart paced faster than her feet just knowing they were closing in & then, they did. They got there....just in time to watch him die. Their eyes locked as if a non-verbal apology between them was said.

                                   𝑰'𝑴 𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝒀.

                                   Her eyes were wide. The world stopped. Everything was muted. All she could see with the LIFE ENDING WOUND in his body & eyes that held such a fire in them...go out. They were out. Blank. Knowing what they both do the topic of death came up between them many a time & Ami always found herself unable to keep up with the MORBID conversation.

                       '𝑊𝘩𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑?'

                                        Ami could never answer him for the question would cause her to CONFRONT how she felt for him. It force to her to ADMIT there was more than friendship there & the FEAR of acknowledging that was too much. She could never answer. & now, here it was, in front of her, & she had to answer. 'What would you do if I died?' Her being stiffed. Her tears feel. The sign of mercury BLAZED on her forehead & the soilder had her answer.

                              SHATTER.

                            ❝ 𝒀𝑼𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑬  !   !  !  !  !  !  !  !  ❞

[harus-simp]

Please, don't leave me

-Wumuti x reader-

Warning: a little angst, reader being called a slut (not explicitly but the idea is there). Fluffy ending tho.

Requested: can we get a angsty fic of wumuti (w/ a happy ending) 🥹 to be honest, i do not have any plot in mind right now so i am completely up for anything :D (Anonymous)

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait pookie :((. I just didn't find the time or the inspiration to do it😔😔

Anyways here's your request, I hope you enjoy it :))

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Fighting in itself is a thing that makes you feel bad and anxious with yourself, but fighting with your boyfriend just worsens everything.

The relationship you and wumuti had was one of the best ones, he was understanding, caring and so empathic, practically the perfect boyfriend.

You both had met on his agency when he had just entered. You connected quite well with him from start, your music taste was similar, your hobbies were similar and even your experience there was similar. All in all, you got on really well.

Too well.

Well maybe you guys had a crush on each other and just didn't have the guts to confess.

But just an hypothesis tho (wrong, you fell completely over heels for him and so did he)

So after seeing the situation where none of you where willing to take the step, your friends literally dragged you both and forced you to confess atp 💀

And that's how your relationship was born, yay! But enough is enough, let's come back to the current scenario.

.

.

.

The word discussion or fight didn't quite fit your relationship with wumuti, because you guys were really communicative and didn't hide anything from the other, so there wasn't a need to initiate anything. But that doesn't mean you couldn't have one,you were still a couple and couples go through really difficult moments sometimes.

You didn't even know how it started anyways, wumuti was being straightforward about him not liking how your classmate had approached you the other day. He wasn't that of a jealous guy, but he really thought that the person didn't know its limits and was touching you kinda inappropriately in his eyes.

You just kept defending that it was his personality and his way of being friendly, but he didn't agree with your thoughts on it. And that lead you to keep insisting, leading to the argument getting a little heated. But it was a certain pair of words that really strucked your anger further.

"I just cannot understand how can you not see his true intentions"

"I don't think we're on the same page now"you said clulessly to the meaning of his words

"Y/n how can you not see they were trying to get on your pants! It's like you're enjoying this"he shouted louder than he had expected to shocking you both in the process

"Wha-what? Are you insinuating I am that kind of person?Have i not showed you enough of me for you to know i would never do something like that?"you almost spit your words furiously

Oh no. He realised then how his words how sounded to you,regretting it almost instantly.

"No babe I didn't mean that"

He tried to reach for your arm softly but you retracted quickly before he could even touch you.

"I feel disrespected wumuti,i'm hurt"

And just like that you grabbed your keys and left the house.

He knew he should have chased after you, but he also thought you needed some space to sort out your feelings at the moment, so he let you do so.

.

.

.

Hours had passed and you still hadn't came back, wumuti starting to get worried (not like he was not before tho), the clock stricked 11:30 p.m

Fuck

It was really late, how could he hadn't noticed it? So he didn't hesitate to call you a couple of times. Couple of times were you didn't answer him at all making his preoccupation increase, so taking matter into his own hands he went out there searching for you.

Luckily for him, he knew just where to find you. There was this park that you loved to go with your boyfriend, it made you feel too calm and composed, it almost felt like time stopped.

When he got there he immediately spotted you laying on the grass with your eyes closed. He didn't say anything and just layed right by your side without muttering a word and staring at the nightsky.

After a couple of minutes he eventually started talking.

"Babe..., I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it in that way. I know you are not like that y/n. It's not like I don't trust you, but I don't trust him in particular"

You slowly opened your eyes and seated properly looking at his guilty expression.

"I forgive you hun, It just hurted how you could think of me in that way, i'm sorry as well, i shouldn't have reacted like that"

"But I didn't have the right to imply that anyways, I love you so much, please, don't leave me"he said as he hide his face on the crock of your neck giving you soft kisses there.

You caressed his hair softly and assured him that you wouldn't dare do that.

"I love you too wumuti, and I leaving you for such a stupid reason wouldn't ever cross my mind. Now that being said, let's head back home, I'm getting cold"

He smiled at you and extended his hand revealing an extra hoodie he had brought from his wardrobe.

"I figured out you would forget to bring one"

"You just know me too well"

<3

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[joethetoonfanandoutcast]

Thoughts on Scamp's Adventure

I wanted to do a script of characters watch and react to this film, but I couldn't decide which characters to use and roast this film properly, so I'll just criticize it right here.

This film might have been fun when I was a kid but as I got older and rewatched it, it became one of the direct-to-video Disney sequels I disliked.

The animation: one of the only redeeming qualities.

The songs:

* "Welcome Home" - just a standard "good morning to the whole town" song that doesn't seem to match a Lady and the Tramp setting and all to show their life in their hometown is great, that they wouldn't change it for anything and that they're getting ready for the 4th of July picnics. Not really inspiring there.

* "A World Without Fences" - I like the 'wanting to be free' theme, but it'd be better from a different character and a different perspective, and not Scamp, as...well, you'll see why, if you haven't already.

* "Junkyard Society Rag" - hardly catchy at all, and though I like Jess Harnell, he's not the best singing voice for a Chazz Palmenterri character, and it was hard to take any of the dogs serious in this number.

* "I Didn't Know That I Could Feel This Way" - I actually thought this song was touching but should have been done with different characters in a different franchise, as I'm not really into Scamp/Angel like I thought I was as a kid. Though, it's also great to hear Herc's singing voice (Roger Bart) and Meg's voice (Susan Egan) having a duet.

* "Always There" - standard sad times montage song just put in there to add length to the film under the "film must be 90 minutes or at least longer than 60" rule

And I liked the pop title ballad version of "Bella Notte" (the song from the original) though it had nothing to do with this film's plot and this film isn't really worth sitting through just to get to that as we see the names of the people involved in this film roll.

The characters:

* Scamp - he's supposed to be a role model to rebellious kids everywhere and we're supposed to find him cute, but honestly, he's rather a spoiled, annoying, cocky, deluded jerkass who's disrespectful to his own father. He may have learned a lesson at the end, but that doesn't save him from winning a "Butthole Protagonist" award, and he doesn't seem to be deserving of a girlfriend either for his actions. Also, it's weird having a grown man, Scott Wolf, voice a pup when he didn't sound young at all.

* Angel - she's supposed to be this perfect girl designed to be the main character's love interest, and while I don't hate her, I find few faults with her. For example, she looks like she could be Scamp's sister and she does end up being his sister in the end (not biologically, but through adoption from the Dears, yet people still want them to be a thing), and she has this bad girl attitude which is supposed to be charming, but it doesn't come off as charming when they're both pint-sized pups. Maybe it'd come off as charming if they were anthros, but not their canon forms.

* Tramp - sadly been struck with the "Simba Sequel Syndrome"

* Lady - The writers sadly did her dirty. She was the main character of the first one and now she's demoted to the wife/mother of main character who gets less lines in favor of the spouse and offspring, just like Nala. And what's worse, is there are no interactions between her and Scamp, to view if THEY would have any connection whatsoever. It's just Scamp and connection with his dad and his selfish dreams of running off to be a wild dog.

Her role is pretty much summed up in this scene:

"Tramp: Like it or not, you are a part of this family, and until you start acting like it, you can just get used to being out here every night!

Tramp left and went inside in anger, while Lady watched Scamp jump on the roof of the dog house. She gave a hopeless sigh, and went inside as well, leaving Scamp alone to calm down."

Honestly, it shouldn't even be called "Lady and the Tramp II", just have it called "Scamp's Adventure" or "Scamp" and regard it as a spin-off since it's his film.

* Annette, Danielle and Collette - it's kind of dumb having them just being carbon copies of each other with no individual personality or characteristics other than "we like baths" or "we're the perfect children and Scamp's a selfish brat" without even remote compassion for him. And two of them are voiced by Kath Soucie. Nothing against her, but it seemed repetitive to have Kath voice all female children in late 90's-early 2000's Disney cartoons, and I don't like her voicing unlikable girls in cartoons with that kind of voice (such as Jenna from Clifford the Big Red Dog, one of the stepsisters from Happily N'Ever After, and others).

* The Junkyard Dogs - they just come off as pale knock-offs of Dodger and the Downtown Dogs from Oliver & Company. They've got a street-smart leader (Buster to Dodger), a tall, sly, attractive female added in there for furbait though contributes little to the plot and hardly anyone talks to (Ruby to Rita), a diminutive dog with an accent (Francois to Tito), a big doofus (Mooch to Einstein), and the remaining member (Sparky to Francis). And like Fagin called his dogs "boys", ignoring Rita's gender, Buster called them all boys, as if no one cared about Ruby's gender

Disney could have tried to make them more likable and unique but this had to be all about Scamp, and we've already got Jock, Trusty, the Dears and Scamp's family having to return as supporting characters.

Of course, out of all of them, Buster is by far the one that is truly loathsome. He's like a mixture of Dodger, Roscoe and/or Desoto with the smug "I'm better than you" attitude and the jock the new kid at high school foolishly looks up to and wants to be like, even if it means getting himself killed in an initiation. And another sickening quality about him is that he constantly flirts with the lead female, Angel, calling her his girl. I just can't stand those characters who are the alpha male who thinks they're entitled to the most intelligent female among the group.

The dog cronies themselves aren't really terrible, and they have subtle sympathy towards Scamp and Angel, but they're still not charming enough. They even laughed like cronies. They seem like nice dogs, but the writers could have done better with them. And remember how I mentioned that Buster referred to them all as "boys", ignoring Ruby and Angel being girls like Fagin ignored Rita's gender? Well, someone at the studio, SOMEONE could have the decency to correct that mistake and have them correct Buster.

Speaking of Ruby, she didn't have much lines at all, as she suffers the same problem with all cartoon Salukis and Afghan Hounds: sentenced to strictly being background furbait with appealing design yet no focus or qualities to make them more likable, and one thing that bothers me is that she and Angel seem to share no positive feels toward each other or negative towards each other, because back in the 2000's, there didn't seem to be a lot of positive female relationships written in cartoons. I really want someone to write a story with them being friends.

As a kid, I oddly enough hardly noticed her myself and didn't even know she was a girl, and it doesn't help that Buster said "boys". Seriously, why do animators and writers not pay enough attention to background characters?

* The Dogcatcher - weak antagonist with an annoying Don Knotts impression given by Jeff Bennett (who did better with the impression as Jonathan the Seagull on Puppy Dog Pals). I didn't even like this character as a kid.

* Otis - a psychotic annoying Rob Paulsen-voiced character no one ever asked for and was not necessary but someone at the Disney animation studio decided to throw in just to keep Rob employed (what, Rob wasn't already voicing plenty of other characters at the time?).

The story itself: boring, lazy, tiresome, predictable, and doesn't really do the first Lady and the Tramp any justice. That's why I decided that doing a word-for-word fanmake of it isn't worth spending time over. JusSonic would be willing to do something like it, but I'm not. I gave him a transcript and summed up the sequel to his version for 2009, so that's enough.

However, it is not the worst Disney sequel ever made. It's fine to watch at least once (and maybe only once). In honesty, I prefer watching the original or the live-action remake of the original over this. And honestly, I feel this should have been remade, not for the sake of nostalgia, but to make it better.

[lauvra]

Woke up feeling so off-centre that I wondered about my cycle then searched for answers on astrology.com ... Luna makes her debut into Aquarius, activating the sector of your chart that governs secrecy and solitude. Meanwhile, Mercury retrograde and Uranus form a harsh square that could lead to dramatic miscommunications, further inspiring you to lay low. Standing outside the MCG, my father said the thousands flocking toward the gates looked like Magpies -- neither of us had yet realised the Collingwood team were in fact: the Magpies. I wore a black and white checkered skirt and championed the Melbourne team, but we cheered for both during the match invariably. Collingwood Magpies VS. The Brisbane Lions. Honestly, the latter played more impressively, their passes were more clean and they appeared to utilise an intuition -- a kind of group-think demonstrated with a lot more ease than their opposition who were behind two goals with about five minutes remaining. One had scored a goal and continued to chew his gum (later a friend said he always does that, like a cow, it strikes her as hubris and she hates the player with a passion). My dad pointed out supporters starting to leave, but I remembered an historic moment in American baseball depicted in some rom-com and said I wouldn't give up just yet -- we've seen stranger things. Every so often, the dominant ratio of the home-town crowd would slowly build into a unionised chant: Cooooollingwoooooood, Coooooooollingwooooooooood, COOOOOOOOOOOOOLLINGWOOOOOOOOOOOOOD. I thought how strange, it felt less encouraging than haunting and outright taunting or more accurately, a threat to suggest: you better win, or else. It felt very British, actually, about as Punk and counter-productive as tossing bottles on stage out of love. I even mentioned this to dad and suggested then demonstrated an obvious, tried and true syllabic rhythm instead. A Brissy supporter three rows behind us spent the entire evening screaming profanities at his own team, only cheering with a tense hesitation despite them holding the lead. MAKE THEM PAY - OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES - WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? - FUCKIN' HELL, BILLY! - I'd never heard a name cried with such sincere desperation, I think it's my new favourite name. I couldn't help considering whether this red-faced young man may benefit from my evaluation that he didn't seem to much like his team -- in fact, he didn't seem to enjoy watching this game... at all. I knew better than to say so. I recognise he may be a typical Sports-fan™ who knows how these things go, I just hope he gets laid soon. Seagulls circled and surveyed the stadium. I wondered whether our behaviour struck them as strange but later realised: they don't care / we leave chippies here. I couldn't resist admiring the Lions who most resembled the kinds of guys from high-school who'd intimidate me into kissing their hand or fart on my head during I.T. class. The Melbourne team seemed borderline lethargic, too thoughtful or reliant on luck -- I remarked they didn't have enough hatred in their hearts. Each goal they scored was met with two levels of commercial screens flashing, a tribal drum appraisal, flashing of overhead lights and roars of acclaim. For the first time I understood beyond a spiritual sense what home ground advantage meant. So now we're down to 4 minutes in the final quarter and Collingwood score a goal, but they're still behind. I didn't crave a cigarette the entire time, my dopamine was naturally sky-high and look, I don't know the rules, hailing from the land of Rugby League as a teen I'd watch my boyfriend's training days with a kind of curious detachment, but after tonight, this sports™ stuff... I get it. The intensity, the tension and potential of vindication in it all. With 3 minutes remaining they score another and defeat Brisbane by one fucking point and are crowned the comeback-Kings. The lights, the drums, the roars and team anthem begin Good old Collingwood for ever, etc. etc. Not a bad first ever live football spectator experience. Noottta bad addalll.