#it's not specified but i wrote this thinking about post last life scar

[stellaricwriting]

Touch starved Scar being with someone for the first time in ages

His hand is warm over yours, trapping it where you've cradled his cheek, keeping you there while he leans into it. His eyes are closed still, and his breathing is shaky, though you can tell he's trying to appear steady.

You think it might even have worked, if you weren't pressed forehead to forehead, if he wasn't crowded up into your space, sinking into you with a desperation you understand, recognize even from your forays into solo worlds.

So you pull him close, into your bed, and let him go boneless in your arms, his weight heavy where he half lying on you. You run your fingers through his hair, play with the baby hairs at the nape of his neck, and feel him melt.

You stay like that with him for hours, his face hidden in your neck, even as he falls asleep and his arms go lax around you. You stay and pull him close until he wakes up, until he can pull away without immediately giving up again, missing your touch.

You won't ask, you don't need the details, but you make sure that by the time he leaves, goes back to whatever he's off to, that he knows he's welcome back anytime, that your door is unlocked for him, and your arms are open.

[echodrops]

The League of Villains Plays DnD AU

(Saw a post by @bunny-loverxiv last night that reminded me I’ve had this stupid thing in my drafts unfinished for over a year now. I’m not sure I’ll ever have time to come back and finish it, but in the spirit of what I posted earlier, here it is, in all its unfinished.. glory...)

Since I asked for a League of Villains plays DnD AU and no one delivered, alas, I guess I’ll just do all the work myself!

So, without further ado:

Shigaraki Tomura’s Character Sheet:

Race and Appearance: Fallen Aasimar, with hair pale as the flesh of wraiths and eyes like two burning pools of blood, reflecting out from the infernal pits of the abyss. His rippling muscles under his bone-white skin carry the scars of his uncountable victories, and when his corrupted celestial powers radiate forth, ghostly skeletal wings rise--

( “Do I have to keep reading? This is really long...”

“It’s important!”)

Alias: “Zephiroth”

(”Isn’t that the guy from Final Fantasy?”

“No! That was Sephiroth! My character’s name is totally different!”)

Class: Oath of Conquest Paladin/Hell Knight

Motto: Dim the Ray of Hope

A dread knight whose armor is black with the blood of his enemies; to stand against him on the field of battle is to know true fear, and none have called themselves his equal and lived to tell the tale. His menacing aura is a cloud of evil righteous murder that spreads across the land as he advances, and everywhere he travels is seeped into the deepest of despairs. Civilizations tremble before the darkness of his impossibly dark darkness.

(“Did you run out of adjectives?”

No, I meant exactly what I said.”)

Also, collects the severed hands of his conquests.

(”Tomura-kun, this isn’t a character, this is just you!”

“Collecting body trophies is standard lore for conquest paladin; you’d know if you read Xanathar’s Guide.”)

Alignment: Chaotic Good

(“Shigaraki Tomura, I am not sure this alignment fits with the character you’re describing--”

“I wrote the campaign, so good’s whatever I say it is.”

“Boss, doesn’t playing in your own campaign defeat the purpose? Knowing everything ahead of time’s a great idea!”

“Shut up, I don’t care about spoilers.”)

Backstory: Zephiroth the Bloody swore an oath to complete the conquest of his father, King Jenovo, who fell in battle to his eternal rival and estranged foolish younger brother, Nimbus Might ( “You know, I really think I’ve heard these names before...”). Jenovo’s quest was undoubtedly a noble one: to reunite the brothers’ separated kingdoms under a single legitimate banner--and its single legitimate ruler. The two brothers clashed in a battle of titans that shook the entire world, and though he was in the wrong, Nimbus Might reigned supreme in the end, and took Jenovo’s life and kingdom both. The death of his father crushed the last remnants of joy and love in young Prince Zephiroth’s black heart and now he will stop at nothing to put an end to Nimbus Might’s reign by turning every symbol of his false kingdom to dust.

Notable Stats and Weapon: +5 Intimidation, +5 Persuasion; greatsword and shield wielder.

Tomura is a quintessential min-maxer; he made everyone else take the standard array for stats but... “rolled” for his.

(”This old man’s been reviewing the character sheets, Shigaraki, and couldn’t help but notice some discrepancies in the party’s stats compared to yours--”

“You’re welcome to not play. Ever.”

“Must have been a trick of the light!”)

Carrying: The holy relic “Lavos”

(”Isn’t that just from Chrono Cross?”

“I think you mean, Khrono Kross, Spinny.”)

The relic is a glowing black and red container imbued with a hellish aura, containing magical bullets said to be formed from the blood of the time goddess, allowing Shigaraki to permanently unwind his opponents’ powers. Limited use, 5 times.

Dabi:

Race and Appearance: Tiefling.

(“Did you not even bother to write an appearance?!”

“My character has the same appearance as me.”

“That’s not even possible. Tieflings are supposed to have horns!”

“Okay, my character has the same appearance as me with horns.”)

Alias: “Dabi” 

(”You can’t name your character after yourself!”

“But I’m not named Dabi.”)

Class: Phoenix Sorcerer

Motto: Ashes to Ashes

(”You can’t play this class either, it isn’t canon.”

“You told me to pick one from the wiki; ain’t my problem you didn’t specify.”

“I said no homebrew!”

“And that means... what?”)

Alignment: Chaotic Evil

(”You ignored my instructions about our alignment too, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you said ‘good’ so I assumed I misheard.”

“We’re the protagonists of this story--our cause is just!”)

Feats and Skills: ...Hmm, for some reason, many things have been written and then crossed out?

(“W-What have you done?! You can’t just modify things however you feel! Why would you even swap out Nourishing Fire for an Elemental Affinity that deals ice damage?! And did you just scratch out ‘long rest’ and put ‘short rest’ here? That’s OP!”

“When the hell have any of you let me get a long rest?”

“Animal Handling as a skill, seriously?!”

“Figured you’d give me some monsters to tame.”

“Go fuck yourself!”

Shigaraki was, in fact, planning on there being monsters for Dabi to tame.)

Backstory: A traveler with a shadowy past.

(”That’s... your whole backstory? Are you freaking kidd--”

”Aww, come on Dabi, this bio is lame! Oh, I know, I know! You’re actually a prince in disguise, exiled from his kingdom and seeking vengeance on his father, the one who left him horrifically burned and on the brink of death, which caused you to be rescued by the soul of a lonely phoenix, and at the end of your quest, after reclaiming your rightful throne from your evil father, you free the phoenix who possessed you to save your life, but then it returns and swears its eternal love to you! Eehee!”

“We’re...not doing that.”

“You can’t do that anyways, it completely undermines my lore. There are only two kingdoms in this world, and I’m going to be the ruler of both of them.”)

Notable Stats and Weapon: +3 Deception, +4 Insight; wields darts.

(”But why do I even have to pick a weapon? It says right there I have Burning Hands.”)

Carrying: A shard of never-melting ice in the shape of a three-petaled flower; it exudes a calming chill even when wreathed in the wildest of fires. Looking at it makes you feel... melancholy?

(”Why is this the only section with detail?! If you could put this much effort in here, you should have taken the rest seriously too!”)

Mr. Compress:

Race and Appearance: Human, a man in the prime of his life, with a roguish glint in his eye and a rakish gold mustache above his mysterious smirk. There’s an artfully placed scar below his right eye that speaks to a life of the blade and adventure, and his pressed linen and metallic brocade doublet belies his nature as a man of impeccable taste. His jaunty black bandana is always pulled low over his eyes, but mischief seems to twinkle out from beneath the accompanying black mask nevertheless.

(“Oh, I like it! A lot! Hey, hey, will you rewrite mine for me? Make it like yours but cuter!”)

Alias: The Dread Pirate Roberts

(“Huh? The first part is good, but why “Roberts”?

“Well, no one would surrender to the Dread Pirate Westley.”

“What are you snickering about, Kurogiri?”

“Nothing at all, Shigaraki Tomura.”)

Class: Multi-class Swashbuckler and School of Conjuration Wizard

Motto: To the Pain!

(“These two classes don’t compliment each other at all. You should change to Hexblade at least!”

“As you wish.”

“Kurogiri’s laughing again. What are you two hiding? Tell me!”)

Mr. Compress knew full well the classes he picked didn’t mesh; he just lives for the shits and giggles. He’s actually been playing DnD longer than Toga’s been alive, but where’s the fun in telling Tomura that?

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Skills: Acrobatics, Persuasion, Performance, Sleight of Hand

(“Okay, but am I the only one who actually created a real character instead of a self-insert? DnD’s a role-playing game; isn’t the whole point to use your imagination?!”

“Ain’t our fault your real self is too boring to be a decent character, Lizard.”

“You never miss an opportunity to insult me, do you, asshole?!”)

Backstory: Although he came from unremarkable origins, Westley Roberts found himself thrust on to the path of great destiny when the merchant ship on which he was employed was attacked by the Dread Pirate Roberts--

“How can he attack his own ship? You forgot your own name, didn’t you?”

“Not all, Shigaraki! I’m not that old!”

--but when Roberts heard the tale of Westley’s quest to prove himself for the one he loved--

“Wait, who is this other character now? There was no love interest listed before!”

“Just let me tell the story!”

--Roberts was overcome by the depth of Westley’s tale of woe and decided to name him his successor, passing down the title of Dread Pirate Roberts--

“Can I change my character to a Dread Pirate?”

“No, Dabi!”

“I’m just sayin’, why was I not informed of this option?”

--sothathecouldmildlyterrorizethewatersaroundhishomekingdomandfinallyamasstherichesneededtoimpresshischarminglove. PHEW! Thank you for letting me finish!

Notable Stats and Weapon: +4 Dexterity, +5 Charisma; wields a rapier with impeccable skill. Is definitely not left-handed. Carrying: A Rodent of Unusual Size. Excellent distraction. Also edible.

“What is wrong with everyone in this room?!”

And the rest of the League I didn’t finish, but:

Spinner: A gorgeous lady Argonian who spits beams of pure light--

“No, this is too cool. Change it.”

“Awww come on, Shigaraki, just let me have this--”

“Change it.”

Toga: Tabaxi assassin. ON A QUEST FOR LOVE. (May or may not have decided this after peering over Mr. Compress’s shoulder during character creation time.)

Twice: Halfling wizard. None of his stats make sense because he couldn’t make up his mind where to put them.

Hawks: Aarakochra bard. Entirely useless. That asshole who rolls to seduce everything.

Kurogiri: The DM. But not by choice.

There’s no Giran or Gigantomachia because I started writing this before either of them were really “part” of the League. Use your imaginations~

[more-magpiie]

Hello fellow gremlins, remember this post about my resurrection hopes for S3? I wrote it out and it’s not particularly exciting but I thought I should post it since from now on, unless otherwise specified, my fics will probably be set after this. I’m working on a fic for a prompt rn but it’s getting late so pls enjoy this for now.

---

No matter how many times Sweeney insisted that he was a god, Laura never truly believed it. Not the way some of the others were. Sure, she might not have treated them with any particular awe or reverence, but she couldn’t deny that there was something there she hesitated to underestimate. It was a form of power that was hard to place, something at once strangely familiar and frighteningly ancient, quietly commanding. She’d never much cared for church, but standing on hallowed ground had a certain feeling to it that she couldn’t place. The same feeling as when Bilquis had kissed her, and the rest of the world had melted away for just a moment. The same feeling as when Wednesday settled his one good eye on you, and you felt like he might be seeing right through your eyes into your soul.

She had almost felt it, briefly, when they’d gone through the hoard - but then he was himself again, complaining about the price of cigarettes and snoring in his sleep just like every other boring human she’d ever met. It had been impossible to believe that he’d ever been more than the luckless drunk she had been stuck with for all this time.

But now? Now she believed him.

At first, she thought the potion hadn’t worked. She had been expecting something sudden, a gasp of breath, maybe a magical burst of light. But the seconds had dragged by, painfully still, and she had wondered how long she could sit at the end of the bed just staring at him until she had to call it quits. This might have been the most intensely she had ever felt her own death: numb and silent and absolutely fucking hopeless. It didn’t have to happen this way. They didn’t have to fight in New Orleans, he didn’t have to go up against Wednesday alone. The weight of their dumb fucking choices weighed so heavy on her that all she could do was sit with it, thinking of another Laura who had been smarter, who had done everything right, who wasn’t so utterly alone. It had been a long time since she’d last truly slept, since she’d last dreamed, but now something inside of her just quit. She let her consciousness dim, let the world fade into a muddy grey blur, and waited for death to be done with her.

And then suddenly she was awake again, marvelling at the feeling of warmth on each shoulder, the heat of strong hands shaking her, rousing her. He was kneeling in front of her, and his skin was flushed with colour and hot as a flame, and he shone like the fucking sun. Now she could feel it, that divine power radiating off of him. She wondered how she hadn’t noticed it before. “It worked,” she breathed, scrambling to touch him, holding his face in her dead hands and staring down at him in disbelief. He looked younger without the tired shadows under his eyes, more lucid than perhaps she’d ever seen him, but his gaze was somber and his mouth was set in a hard line. “What the fuck did you do?” he asked, voice low, and her brow creased. Here was the asshole she knew and barely tolerated. “Excuse me?” she scoffed. “I saved your life, if you didn’t notice. You’re welcome.” “How?” She paused, mouth open, waiting for the right words to come. None did. She shut her mouth again. He smiled tensely and tilted his head to one side. “Alright… I might have lied in New Orleans,” she began. He huffed out a breath and closed his eyes, then stood and turned to stare out the window. “The Baron gave me a potion, but-” “But you didn’t take it.” “It wasn’t finished. It needed another ingredient, and I didn’t think I’d get it. I thought it was a cruel joke.” “Looks like you were wrong.”

They were both quiet for a moment. She watched with an indescribable satisfaction as his shoulders rose and fell just slightly with every breath. If nothing else, he was alive. At least she had done that. Finally she collected up what she wanted to say, and forced herself to say it. “I needed blood. From someone who loved me. That’s why I went to Cairo.” Laura watched for a reaction, waited, and finally he said, “I’m sure you found plenty of it.” “Yeah. I did. Shadow made a real mess. He seemed pretty upset about it, if that makes you feel any better.” “Not really,” he replied shortly, turning to her and shaking his head. “I’m not angry at him, I’m angry at you. I finally did it, I found a way for you to be alive again, and you didn’t take it. You wasted your one fuckin’ chance at life-” “Wasted it?” “-and now, what? You really are just gonna wait to fall back into the grave, is that it?” “I did you a favour.” “Why?” The stare he fixed her with told her that he knew the answer. She bristled with anger for a few moments, and then it started to fade. It was exhausting, battering her emotions down with misplaced rage, using that frustration to hold him at a distance. It was how she’d always been, how she had always kept herself neatly isolated. Isolation felt safe. It also felt lonely. She smiled up at him, small and sad and tired. “Selfish reasons.”

He dropped back into a crouch. “You sacrificed yourself. For me.” “Oh, don’t flatter yourself,” she muttered. “I’m not. You held your life in that fuckin’ bottle and you could have taken it, but you didn’t.” “Well, asshole, that’s what love is, I guess.” She was getting frustrated again. He smiled wryly. “That’s what worship is,” he corrected. She shot him a glare and he revelled in it, wanted to laugh at the sheer miserable irony of how much the pair of them hated and needed and wanted each other. “There’s a lot of power in a sacrifice like that.”

What a beautiful, horrible joke. For so long all of his power, all of his luck, had been wrapped up in her rotting heart and oh, how he had resented her for it. He had thought he had hit rock bottom the night he’d killed her for Wednesday, but then he’d lost his coin to her and found how much deeper he could sink, how truly powerless he could be. And then she had done this one stupid thing, and a strength he hadn’t felt in centuries was burning in his veins and pounding in his head. He didn’t need an army of believers, didn’t need a temple full of worshippers praising his name and begging his favour.

He only needed her.

She gasped as he pressed his hand against her chest and a jolt of life shuddered through her. Her heart pounded decisively, unclogging arteries, refreshing atrophied muscles, sparking each nerve ending back to life. Her lungs burned with agony as she gasped in ragged breaths like she’d forgotten how to breathe. Shit, maybe she had. The pain was everywhere and her heart was hammering so hard she feared she might die all over again, and dimly she realised she was sobbing and begging him to stop. His hand stayed fixed in place until his coin fell into it, and for a moment she was angry, betrayed, until he dropped it onto the bed beside her and pulled her into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, warming up her grave-cold flesh, holding her still when her skin began to knit back together and she writhed in fury and terror, lost in the terrible pain of it. Then, for a long time, he just held her as she shook and cried until finally, exhausted from the trauma of resurrection and months without true sleep, she slipped out of consciousness.

When she finally woke again, the world outside was cool with the dimness of dusk, but she felt warm beneath the thin and scratchy motel sheets. Warm. Fuck, she’d never enjoyed feeling warm so much before. It felt so beautiful and simple and good that she wanted to cry. She ran her hands slowly over her arms, her breasts, her neck, relearning what touch was like. It could have been hours that she lay like that, soaking in the colours of the room and the foul mildew smell and the heavy weight of hunger in her stomach, delighting at every touch of her own hands. It seemed unthinkable to her now that she ever wound up choking in that hot tub, when just to be alive was so incredible.

She was shaken from her reverie when the door to the bathroom clicked open and Sweeney stepped out, barefoot and shirtless, hair damp and towel-mussed. What had once been a grisly open wound below his sternum was now a pale scar. He glanced at her, turned and cleared his throat when he saw she was awake. “Clothes are ruined,” he muttered shortly in explanation, and she hummed in understanding. “That’s probably for the best,” she replied softly, sitting up straight. “The way you dress is pretty bad.” “Well, it’s good to know that you’re back to your charming old self,” he sighed, but his smile was light, nearly affectionate. They fell into a not-uncomfortable silence for a moment, though neither of them was able to look directly at the other. “Got your coin back,” she said eventually. He nodded. “What are you gonna do now?” “Buy a new shirt, probably the first thing.” “Okay… And then what?” His gaze moved, focused on her properly, and they considered each other for a few moments. “And then… Then, I’ll do whatever the fuck you ask me to.”

[castawxayaway]

World Gone Mad

so, hi. it’s actually been almost a month I think since I last wrote anything and published it. behind the scenes, I’ve started new pieces and not really had it to continue them which is so unlike me. but, bastille released a new song, and a video to go with it and likewise with glory I asked if anyone would like something written based on world gone mad. so, here it is. I’ll let you know now that I don’t fully understand what the movie ‘Bright’ is about, so I just kinda went based on the video and on my own ideas. 

(I hope you like it and enjoy, I’m not sure when I’ll post next as I am a ball of stress thanks, uni) (and currently, want a three hour conversation about dan smith being a boyfriend) 

it’s a week late since the video went up but i’ve been a busy bee and I can finally finish it and publish yay

collection of writing

Running aimlessly I scream his name, the chaos only growing as everyone heads in different directions. No one knows where is safe anymore, where we can hide until it’s over, if it’ll ever be over. I force down the lump that grows in my throat, the suffocating weight that crushes my chest as I move forward refusing to give up or give in until I’ve found him. 

I over analyse everyone. Those who run in fear, and those who are the ones responsible. I just wish I knew which he was, as I question his previous intentions. Coughing heavily I pause to try and catch my breath as dust coats my clothes, once pristine and treasured, now destroyed in the riots that have been occurring these past few days. It no longer matters how many they arrest, I don’t think it’ll be good enough anymore. 

A cloud of smoke forms behind me, my hearing now gone and replaced with a high pitch whirring sound. My feet pick up the pace and charge straight ahead towards the square. I continue to swallow the painful lump, the choke that I try to conceal from those smart enough to wear masks whilst I allow myself to remain fully exposed. Dust clings to every fibre in my mouth, making it even drier and harder to speak.

Slowing down I reach the square, my chest rises and falls frantically along with the beating of my heart. I take each step carefully as I rest on the remains of a statue, whatever one this once resembled now nothing more than stone, back to its original appearance. As I sit there I check my arms, my legs and torso for any signs of blood, whether it be my own or someone else's. 

Across my right leg, the black fabric has been slashed, the cut from the glass only worsening as I remain resilient in my search for him. The bruise on my eye and the scars that have formed on my chest throb lightly, now nothing more than a dull ache. I glance around at the square, how only a few months ago this was a civilised place, this was his home. I hoped one day it would be our home as we used to walk across this space, watch the children squeal and laugh in the fountain. But now the fountain is a pile of rubble, the laughter a faint memory as screams remain apparent instead. Forcing myself up I wince, I decide to head East where I know it’s quieter for the meantime. Maybe he’s gone that way, he could be hiding, and if he is then I’ll be ready.

I watch as some pass me by, each of us has mutual respect and boundaries. We are all on the same side, for now, that is. Our weapons remain hidden, the shard of glass that cut me is in my pocket, wrapped in cloth and still stained with my own blood. He was the one who told me to do this, to flee as he warned me something could happen to him. I wish he specified what, as now the curiosity has plagued my mind as I search for him. 

A whole month of this life, of trying to survive as they tear the city apart. An entire month of getting by, seeing some get taken away or beaten on the streets. Of seeing others rebel and blow up the buildings I once admired, constantly thinking back to the times I explored them with him by my side. It’s been a month of worry looming in the back of my mind, hoping he’s alright. 

With hesitation I walk down to an alleyway to check my phone, the cracked screen mainly useless, but I keep it just in case he calls, that and to check the time since the bell tower is no more. 3:49pm. Looking up the sun remains high, hidden away from the clouds in fear like many who peer out of broken buildings as sirens wail around the city. 

Turning the corner my eyes glance at the broken cars, the ones that have been smashed into or crunched into themselves. The scene doesn’t affect me anymore, it’s as if I’ve become immune to the outbreak, yet I can’t help but look a bit longer at the police car. 

It was upside down, wheels still spinning as smoke pours out of it, a wheel discarded nearby not far from my view. Slowly I move closer, trying to get a better look at the bloody hand hangs lifelessly out of the shattered window. The lights flicker slower and slower, my shoes crunch under the broken glass, but I stand back as I see a hand grasp out onto the concrete from the back of the vehicle. 

Reaching into my pocket I grasp onto the glass shard, holding it tightly as I wait to see the traitor come out of the crushed car. Slowly I watch as more arm appears, whoever it is can’t see me from this angle, I’m concealed to them and their priority will be escaping, to not get caught again. I take a few steps closer, being careful to not make too much noise as the siren wails in pain, the sound becoming more haunting each second. More body appears but his face is concealed, I squint my eyes as his arm is wrapped around his front. All I can see is his black jacket and jeans that have been slashed. 

Something about them intrigues me, never before have I been this close to one of them, a traitor. Around his wrist the cuffs hang, one secured to his wrist and the other free, just waiting to be taken care of. I watch as his arm reaches up, sweeping back a mess of dark brown hair and I pause, my calm heartbeat suddenly intensifying. I release my tight hold on my makeshift weapon and move with a bit more speed. 

I’m so close to him, but it couldn’t be, could it? Biting my lip back I fear to call him, exposing him or notifying others that hide in the surroundings. If they see someone with handcuffs on, it won’t take long to put the pieces together. Instead, I lower my head, I nudge past him and I’m unable to ignore the feeling. 

Turning back I pause, my heart dropping as it hangs onto the few strings of hope that remain. I go to say something, but no words form. His face is beaten, cut and stained with his own dried blood. Down is forehead he can’t conceal the pain that throbs from the slash, the deep cut across his nose and the blood that poured from underneath it. “What’re you covering?” The words come out harsh as I motion to his stomach. With no hesitation, he lowers his arm, his once white top marked with his weeks of hiding, of being hunted and ripped, but not bleeding. 

I let out a short sigh of relief as I avoid his gaze. He mutters my name quietly as I look around us, picking at every angle they could be watching us from, watching him from. “Please,” A small plea as I feel cool metal brush my wrist, I defensively pull back and continue to walk, noticing him slip his cuffed wrist into his pocket. 

We both walk, further along, another fire sounds behind us. Smoke and dust cloud together, too many people run towards us, too many for us to get out of this stampede safely. He grabs my hand and pulls me to the side, down a small alleyway. Breathing heavily our bodies touch, the small space slimmer than it appeared. I watch them as they run, as they cough. Some help others, carrying them in teams as they cry in pain or are hanging lifelessly in their arms. 

His breath remains heavy against my neck as I remain too afraid to face him this closely. The feelings I’ve longed for since this started have been shattered now I’ve found him, this is not what I anticipated happening. “Let me explain.” He speaks quietly, his face titled downwards as I watch the crowds thin until it’s nothing more than those who are too slow, the ones who won’t last until tomorrow at the latest. 

As they limp, clutching to their seeped tops frustration rises in my body. “What? You going to tell me how you let all this happen?” Anger replaces my loving tone towards him as he avoids my gaze now, rather than the other way round. “Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you? I have not stopped looking for you, I knew in my heart that you wouldn’t betray everyone you loved.” Looking him up and down he lifts his head. His icy blue eyes standing out in pain, I lock mine with his. “Looks like I was wrong.” I mutter and tear my eyes from his. 

“I can explain.” He retorts, holding onto my shoulder to stop me from looking out too far. Raising an eyebrow at him he sighs into my lips, the distance between us not helping. “When I lost you, after that explosion, I was taken by them. They forced me into it, saying they’ll find those I care about and kill them one by one. I, I had no choice.” He shakes his beaten face, his hair falls covering the surface damage temporarily. “If, if anything had happened to you,” I focus back on his eyes, they soften slightly, the emotion rises to the surface. The version of him I knew returning. 

My hand reaches up to his cheek, the one free of any recent damage, but he squirms for a split second. “But I’m here. So you didn’t betray us?” I ask, trying to hold back the lump that paused itself, but now is back on play. 

He shook his head. “Never.” His eyes searched mine, ignoring the blurriness that formed across them. I felt his hand on top of mine as it rested on his cheek, “I love you too much to ever do such a thing.” I sniff quietly. 

“After all this time I was so worried, I thought you might’ve been dead.” I whimper, but sniff forcefully and straighten up, I can’t afford to do this now. “But now what?” I swallow the lump and take my hand from his cheek, using it to wipe the dust and tears that solidify on my face. 

He lowers his head again, something he does when he knows I’ll take it hard, whatever he has to say will hurt. I shake my head repeatedly, not wanting him to say what I think he’ll suggest. “I’ll have to turn myself in.” The words that break my heart. 

We’ve all heard the rumours about what happens to the traitors. What happens once they have you. I continue to shake my head, “You can’t.” Holding his hands tightly I let the tears fall, every emotion floods my system after being on lockdown for a month. “I’ll never get you back.” 

His dirty fingertips wipe my eyes as fresh tears fall, replacing the last. “If it’ll keep you any bit safer it’s worth a try.” He chokes a laugh and glides his hand along my neck revealing the one thing I held dear throughout all of this. I watch the absent smile return, the ring attached to the chain still fairly clean but missing from my finger. “We had it all planned.” I laugh at his comment, how useless it all is now. 

“A future,” I smile to him, “what a thought that is, right?” He reciprocates the smile, through the pain that lines his face I can see a glint of hope. “Together through it all as you said to me, right?” 

He opens his mouth to speak, but it hangs as he zones into the sound of the click from his side. Lifting his arm up mine follows, his eyes go wide and fear melts the hope in the deep blue. “What did you just do.” Sincerity and worry line his tone as I let the tears fall. 

“Together through it all, Dan. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.” He remains speechless as the sirens sound. His hand intertwines with mine, and he backs away, further down the alleyway until it becomes wider, more open. 

The further we go the more deserted the space seems. He reaches up and snags the necklace, discarding the chain and holds the ring in his fingertips. “If we’re going to do this,” He slips the ring onto my finger, “then we do it properly.” Looking at the ring I remember the night he gave it to me, the happiness we shared in that moment, a sense of euphoria. We planned it all, I had my dress that he’ll never see me in. Instead, we stand hand in hand covered in dust and stale blood, marked with the pity of what we never got. 

“I love you.” I whisper as the sirens come closer, our time running out. 

Moving closer the space between us is gone, his lips hover over mine. “I love you too, whatever happens I love you.” His lips kiss mine with so much force, intertwined with tears and the metallic drops from his nose, but neither of us care. If this is goodbye, then we might as well make it worthwhile. 

Unaware of his hand slipping into my pocket I feel something loosens. “Dan?” I pull away and the siren comes to a holt. 

Pulling back from me I notice the cuff is gone from my wrist, we’re no longer attached. My eyes widen with fear, he kisses me one last time, muttering into my lips, “I love you. You’ll see me soon, I promise.” Before I have the opportunity to scream after him he faces the police, the crowd that surrounds behind the barricades. They all shout, but I can’t hear a single thing. 

I watch as he lifts his arms up behind his head, following their commands as guns focus on his head. He turns to look at me, a single nod as I continue to sob. They move closer towards him, I watch all those around sneer, spit and swear at him as they hold the gun to his forehead. 

My eyes close tightly as I hear the bang and the cheers. I move away, tears blind me as I run, stumble to a rock and lie there admiring the ring through the blur. “I’ll see you soon Dan,” Reaching into my pocket I feel the shard. “I promise.” 

[flockofdoves]

wait ok maybe a bad time to start this at 1:30am (<- started this post last night lmao) but i’ve been thinking so much (for a long time but this week i think maybe prompted by jonny saying stuff in the s5 q&a part 3 about fanon character designs getting more homogenous as the fandom gets bigger its really been on my mind again) about my thoughts on the magnus archives character design stuff

(this turned into such a fucking long post my god sorry lol. just writing this for my own purposes really but i feel ridiculous i spent like a good portion of the past day writing this out dkjfhgfd)

like i already said on that other post character design stuff is full of so much under the surface both really silly and almost nonsensical (like ‘oh this character just feels like they have a lot of triangles incorporated into their design’ or the slightly more connected to reality arbitrary ideas people have about what type of character might wear glasses) and stuff thats incredibly loaded and very much connected to real life systems of oppression. so its like. idk. i like drawing people and fashion and harmonizing shapes and the idea of coming up with people who dont exist through abstracted drawings that somehow click and that can feel cohesive even with different angles/expressions/poses/etc is really fun to me conceptually but Character Design(tm) as a thing even outside of established tropes and schools of it that really lean into elements that can uphold gross shit as shorthand just inevitably theres so much to consider in the implications of making a person (visually) and ascribing traits to them (or i guess in this case largely the opposite)

so thats not something id call fun its just important and inevitably a big factor if i’m going to put any of this to words and can only hope i do so non-clumsily when i wanna talk about this on the whole just bc i find the process of how fanon designs get homogenized interesting (and the purpose of it understandable and maybe a bit inevitable in certain contexts) but also regardless of any actual potential problematic implications in any of that just bc i like the creative process of coming up with character designs i like trying to see when it comes to practicing that through applying it to characters in non-visual media i care about how i can break my guides for what they could look like down to their bare essentials between canon description, things i vibe with personally, etc so that if i have all that written down for myself it can be a good starting place for just experimenting with designs (i dont have any desire to settle on any one design for these characters but its just good general practice for this stuff) and maybe pushing a bit against some things that seem to be generally defaulted to mix things up or w/e. so yeah i’ve just wanted to write all this out for myself for a while, so after that long fucking intro fdkgh here goes!

jon!!!

ok so canonically hes born about 1987 and is like roughly 28-31 throughout the series but looks older to the point where he straight up lies and says hes a decade older at one point, he has graying hair, has been described as looking like he hasnt slept in weeks

(this bullet point contains spoilers up to early s4) depending on what part of canon youre describing him in he canonically has scars from worms probably all over his body (post ep 39), a burn scar on his hand (probably right and probably roughly shaped like a handprint) (post ep 89), actually i’m checking on the wiki now and it specifically says melanie stabbed him in the shoulder? but rereading the transcript and another couple parts that i thought potentially could mention it i dont believe it ever actually specifies (maybe the person who wrote that is conflating how both melanie and daisy’s first injuries from the slaughter are on their shoulders? so even if not canon good guess i guess that his scar from thats on his shoulder) (post ep 125) plus also probably on his throat from daisy (post ep 91), somewhere from michael stabbing him (post ep 47), and who knows maybe even something from mike crew (probably not it was just the height part of things not a lightning strike but i saw fanart of him getting a lichtenberg figure scar once from that which was interesting) (post ep 91)

has been described as ‘scrawny’ and ‘little’ which may just be more of a insult but because of that i support manlet jon lol. also because of that tend to think of him as skinny and not very muscular but i’m def not opposed to him being fat i think its really fun when i do see interpretations of him as such esp in juxtaposition with martin its nice having stuff sometimes where its two fat characters in a relationship. but if i’m leaning on every little word to narrow down character design i’d say hes most likely thin and probably short too.

getting into stuff with no real canon basis, i am a fan of him having long hair like a lot of fanon has him with. its a very tangential justification because i know its more the specific events surrounding this this was describing but when he was described as a “grubby jesus” that helped lol

but! my jon hair opinion that seems to differ from fanon is that i think maybe itd make sense with him being described as looking older and stuff to give him a bit of a receding hairline

not sure about glasses either way i think it just comes down to the specific design whether it looks good or not. there is something conceptually funny to me about giving an avatar of the eye glasses and debating whether that “makes sense” or not lol. one time i saw someones design where he stopped needing to wear glasses later on and i thought that was kinda fun

i don’t really care for like. idk. glowing green eyed jon or multiple eyes or w/e. like i get it. idk probably somethings happening when hes doing like the ceaseless watcher thing or like that one scene where he forced a statement out of that person who described him as “all eyes” like the phrase but maybe not just that as a phrase. so that plus the cover art of the show being green and making people probably theme stuff on that color i guess i cant blame people for doing that but idk just like. it feels kinda just Blah and not that novel to see a lot of the time and a bit too tropey or w/e for my personal taste unless people mix it up a bit. so i tend to prefer him just looking like some guy even later on usually. also with just like brown eyes or w/e

okay so this next part is for both jon and martin because i cant fit this into either of their sections because i feel like i cant adequately talk about this without doing it in juxtaposition to one another

this post summarizes basically anything i’m reiterating here far better but basically by nature of this being a podcast written by a white person for whom most of the first characters voiced (who included most of the most frequently appearing characters outside of those described by others because they were reoccurring avatars or w/e long before voice appearances) were from a small pool of people at a majority white company and their family members, even if that wasnt “intentional” of course that pattern happens so much and more productions should be conscious of that from the get go and reach outside their immediate circles to cast more actors of color from the start of their productions if they have the resources to properly compensate them. so basically from there theres no real totally satisfying solution for portraying “aracial” characters acted and written by white people’s race, because the situation just isn’t ideal in the first place

so like, with that in mind, i know its a bit of a mixed bag with jon in fanon being pretty consistently either ambiguously a person of color or specifically south asian, because i know people of color who were excited from fanon going in for him to be a person of color only to realize hes written and voiced by a white guy and has no canon race (which might just somewhat default to him being written as white since theres no active thought to how him being a person of color, let alone any specific race or ethnicity, might affect anything), but then on the other hand, characters with no race given being defaulted to being portrayed as white is absolutely another common issue in fandoms of things like books and podcasts. so personally because of that i would feel weird portraying him as white in my own designs in contrast with how consistently hes depicted as a person of color, but i would be interested in potentially depicting him as other races beyond the default fanon of him being south asian too (although theres def stuff to consider there that doesnt prevent any interpretation but just is there regardless like his dynamic with daisy in like s4)

and then this post expresses things better than i could ever rehash, but because of the stuff outlined in there in my own attempts at character designs i try to avoid making martin white because of the juxtaposition between that and making jon a person of color in their dynamic. not as pertinent and not something i’ve taken in from any fan of color saying it so i’m definitely not dictating this just talking out my thought process, but by extension of this i’ve also tried to consider how colorism in juxtaposition between them might make it sit better to have martin have darker skin than jon. this does get a bit weird though when balancing how martin has a couple really goofy lines implying ignorance about police abusing their power (i guess charitable interpretations could be that hes plenty aware but nonetheless vocalizing shock in the moment of it actually happening in front of him), so even if as one of the few characters i’ve posted designs of before i drew him as black, when i remembered those lines i guess its just an issue of an “aracial” character being defaulted to being written as if hes white, so even if he certainly could still be black (or any race besides white who might not have the luxury of ignorance about police brutality) it just makes clear that by him being written the way he was nothings ideal because theres not necessarily much depth that can be taken from canon to make certain depictions of him as satisfying or well fleshed out as they could be. oh also so inconsequential to the rest of this and i dont care about this at all beyond just latching onto any scrap to base things off of but the fact that martin maybe knows at least some polish i feel like thats not a language most people just know from school (esp as someone who didnt go to college) or w/e so maybe his mom is polish so probably hes part white at least to wildly extrapolate from there? idrc tho its just one more thing to note on the subject depictions of jon and martins races

martin!

canonically the same age as jon (so approximately born 1987 and roughly 28-31 throughout the series)

theres at least like 4 things in canon that can be used to say hes canonically fat, and some of those lines also more just generally describe him as “big” or w/e so while i dont care about sticking to this as much its easy to argue hes tall too (esp that one point where he says a worm “jumped literally 6 feet through the air at my face” which i guess could be approximate or the worm like. arcing lol and also iirc jonny says he doesnt remember writing that line but regardless its another thing to latch onto to narrow down design stuff)

melanie!

canonically has a scar on her shoulder (as of late 2016), probably on her leg too (if not by early 2017 then by early 2018/ep 125), and is described as skinny

(spoilers for late s4) (also eye trauma mention) post ep 155 she’s blind but trying to research what exactly she might look like like would the results of the damage she does with the awl after going to the hospital would her eyes need to be eviscerated vs enucleated? idk. thinking about lydia saying in a s3 extra in retrospect talking about this where shes like ‘it wouldn’t work like that with [an awl]!’ bc . lol yeah idk. or like would she have scarring on her eyelids or anything, would she have glass eyes, would she feel a need to wear sunglasses to protect her eyes or as a visual cue that shes blind (bc idt shed be the type to just wear it to hide her eyes) or not, etc. i’m not sure! one thing i do know for sure though thats a pet peeve in art is that people make her cane have a red stripe on it when it the UK especially a red striped white cane is for deafblind people, so her cane is most likely just plain white (also theres different styles of white canes but from researching i think shed probably make use of a long cane imo)

my biggest non-canon appearance thought about her is just. melanie king butch 💗

i do think its fun when characters get drawn with unnaturally colored dyed hair for no real reason and do think people should have fun with that more but simultaneously the contrarian in me gets annoyed with how common blue grown out roots straight hair bob melanie is. like the fun of the novelty of being ‘fuck it dying this characters hair’ gets sucked out of it from it being so consistent in fanon. also while she def could be a long haired butch or w/e regardless i just wish fanon of her was way more masc for my own self indulgent reasons

basira

i think the only canonical appearance description is the implication that shes not thin by jared when describing her, melanie, and martin, distinguishing melanie as “the skinny one”

hussain specifically as a surname spelled that way while i’m def no expert, from people i know personally and looking online too seems to be most common specifically with pakistani, indian, and bangladeshi muslims so it makes the most sense to have her be depicted as south asian. considering her VA, her being part black could make sense too but also i feel like its kinda a Thing in a lot of media where they’ll barely have black characters but when they do they’ll make them cops so like idk that’d def require more thought to it.

definitely not on authority on this of course this is just me talking through my own thoughts but i feel like maybe the common fanon of her being a hijabi feels a bit just like . theres not much thought behind it for a lot of people doing it? like it feels like ‘she has a muslim name’ -> ‘she’s muslim’ -> ‘she wears a hijab’ and not much else. like theres just like a whole lot that would need to be unpacked with any main character being religious in this series and actually specifically iirc theres a part in season 5 or something where her and jon reflect on the implications of all this on human religion? and both seem a bit agnostic in their approach. and of course theres people who wear hijabs who arent particularly religious (just like obviously vice versa) but for adults in places that arent majority muslim i feel like a main motivator for that would be connection with ones wider community? but basically all of the main characters in this story like necessarily with the themes and how all this was able to happen to them they feel pretty atomized from any real community (she specifically is paralleled with martin in how she latches onto daisy) none of this is at all to say she couldn’t be practicing islam and/or a hijabi but just that if thats how people want to depict her i think it deserves more thought than just drawing her as such (like for one example of how people have done cool things with making characters muslim i appreciate this artists comics about muslim jon (1, 2, 3)) but yeah! idk just something i’ve been thinking about but very much is not something i can act like an authority on of course. because being a hijabi is something stigmatized i do nonetheless feel slightly weird if i were to go against that fanon but idk

part of me is like ‘we dont need more butch cops’ but then the other part of me just defaults to wanting to make every woman gnc lol. for w/e reason i tend to picture her dressing pretty practically in like khaki cargo pants and hiking boots and flannels and such

daisy

canonically theres here starburst shaped scar on the back of her shoulder

(spoilers for mid s4) i dont care to find it now but i feel like once she was described as scrawny or skinny or whatever (not sure how much focusing on muscle vs thinness if so) but if so that was after she came out of the coffin so i dont think that really implies she always looked like that and i think maybe even by contrast could be implying she was muscular before

def think it makes sense to make her white. generally i do see her similar to fanon depictions of her although i do kinda wish in juxtaposition people would make more women look butch besides her. i think when i first pictured her before seeing fanart or anything it was pretty similar in build and hair color and demeanor such as most of fanon but i pictured her with like . you know like the tight bun women in the military wear lol. so its more ambiguous if her flavor of powertripping “tough” white woman is gay or not. but idrc regardless i dont plan on making much art of her

tim

uhhh i think the only canonical description of him beyond his worm scars (post ep 39) is that basira called him hot in comparison to jon and martin lol

ever since i started listening i keep defaulting to picturing him vaguely like tim from marble hornets lol. so like idk i think its fun when he has defined eyebrows and sideburns and stuff. but not even that i’m really Set on i think theres a lot of fun potential designs for him

sasha

canonically has long hair, is tall, and has glasses

(spoilers for either end of s1 or end of s2 depending on if you’ve figured out something. if you know you know lol) like obviously theres weird stuff in juxtaposition if you make not!sasha a different race than her. i think probably regardless theyre the same race considering melanie didnt note that when describing what sasha looked like. idrc about figuring out what not!sasha looks like ig if i ever make art of her i’ll just figure it out

i think this was the first art i ever saw of her like right around the week or so i started listening to the show that was posted and a mutual reblogged it so i think from basically the start thats how i pictured her essentially. but the main parts of ‘long dark hair, glasses’ i internalized from that are so close to just canon so maybe not saying much

georgie

uhhhh i dont think theres any canon description of her? and i dont have very many opinions on what she does look like honestly except that i think she looks very bisexual lol. i like the idea of her presenting pretty gnc but still maybe having some fun with feminine aesthetics too, but honestly making her present totally masc is really cool too

oh also wrt body type stuff. part of me is a bit tired of how sometimes it feels like fat characters only get to be in romantic relationships if its with skinny characters and rarely are there character designs of two fat people together and melanie is canonically skinny (which doesnt really matter i Could ignore it but i like latching onto descriptions just to narrow things down) and jons maybe implied to be which makes jon/martin like that too. but on the other hand idec i care more about just having fat wlw characters so if melanie in all i project on her cant be that then georgie will be

oliver!

only canonical description of him i believe is “tall, black and careworn, deep lines of worry etched into an otherwise handsome face”

uhh beyond that idk.. not really set on this at all but i feel like maybe he dresses like. business goth lol. like idk. well put together casual clothes like nice quality short sleeve button ups and chinos or nice cuffed jeans but maybe darker colors and a bit of a vaguely edgy but not tacky flair (like fucking idk. raven pattern button up or something lol)

i saw some art of him once where he had long locs and also just idk he was like doing that ominous floaty thing which included his hair and that had a nice rhythm in the art together with the black tendrils in the background so i could appreciate him having long locs/braids/twists or something. but def not set on that and ofc theres like a lot of years to depict him between he could have various hair styles

this is hard to really judge but ive seen posts where people are like ‘haha i draw oliver just like i drew kravitz in the adventure zone’ which is like vaguely annoying to me idk lol. but of course i cant Really know if thats what people are doing from depiction alone bc theres no set appearance for kravitz himself but sometimes i get the Vibes thats whats someones doing and its just like. whatever idk. branch out and design another character!!

there are literally soooooo many more characters i really thought i could make a short-ish thing for each character beyond a few necessary addendums but god even on inconsequential shit this post is already SO fucking long lol so i’m giving up for now i’ve done most of the main people plus my favorite side character so its fine i can get back to this later if i really want to