#its all in good fun

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories For a Demon: The Day The World Disappeared, Part III (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

Rook is trapped in the Fade. Spite is determined to get her out.

Word Count: ~ 3.7 k

Part I

Part II

Spite Dellamorte is in the raw Fade once again.

He had followed the journal’s essence back to the ruins of her village the moment Lucanis finally fell asleep earlier that evening.

Lucanis had taken to planning the approach of Rook’s rescue with Emmrich and Bellara. They spent hours agonizing over the logistics of getting to Rook’s village in rural Tevinter. Whether they’d sail from Antiva with the Crows or travel inland with the Veil Jumpers. How many mages they’d need, how much Lyrium to bring, whether or not the plan with the Resonance Amplifiers would even work.

Spite didn’t have the patience for any of it. He wouldn’t wait until they were in Tevinter to get her out.

So, he comes to her corner of the Fade while Lucanis dreams, and stares at the void.

The prison that holds Rook captive floats in the ruins of her family home. Harsh waves of magical energy ripple out, causing distortions in the surrounding environment. It reminds him of the Ossuary that Lucanis had kept them both a prisoner of, even after their escape. A little pocket of the Fade, within the Fade. Inescapable – without the right key.

Reminds him of Rook, the key to every lock that was keeping them trapped.

He would not let her suffer the same fate. If he wasn’t going to get her out for his own sake – that he enjoyed Rook’s antics, then he would do it to keep Lucanis from being paralyzed again. Better yet, he would do it to spite the Dread Wolf, that he may wrench victory from the God’s grasp by freeing the lynch pin to his downfall. The thought made him positively giddy with excitement.

Spite feels the journal tugging him towards her, bringing him closer the black hole’s orbit. So dense, so powerful, he thinks he’ll be split apart if he enters its gravitational pull.

And yet he must. So, he will.

Spite hesitantly unfurls spectral black-and-purple wings to give him more stability against the force of the prison’s magic. The demon braces himself and takes a few hesitant steps towards the black hole. The strength of the pull is enough to tear him to pieces, even at this distance. It feels like being shred apart from the inside and the outside at the same time – pushed and pulled into infinite directions. This prison was not going to make it easy to enter.

It’s a good thing he is as stubborn as Rook.

The essence of the journal thrums loudly in his chest, resonating with the pull of the prison. It was calling to her, and she, knowingly or not, was calling back.

She. Wants. Out. Dread Wolf. Wants Her In.

And that was all the motivation he needed to take another step forward.

But the closer he got to the prison, the more difficult it became to even think straight. He was being crushed under the weight of raw power. It was bearing down on him from every direction. He holds a gloved hand out in front of him, and it distorts like it’s been put under water. The demon growls in frustration and inches closer.

He’s near enough to reach out and touch the void, but the air around it is so heavy he can barely lift his arm. It’s like moving through molasses. He clenches his teeth. With a beat of his wings, and a low snarl of frustration, Spite does manage to touch it. Spite’s hand distorts such that his fingers are stretched out like the … what was it called – spaghetti, that Lucanis is so fond of? Searing pain shoots up his arm, like something he’s never experienced before. He grits his teeth. The deep pit of black ripples at his touch but it doesn’t open.

Spite, not one to be bested by some strange magical thing he doesn’t quite understand, beats his wing and launches himself closer, attempting to put his whole hand through. The prison both pulls and repulses him, the pressure nearly buckling his legs.

When it doesn’t budge, Spite fights gravity to raise his free arm to his chest and instead, focuses on the journal.

He grips his chest, and pulls at its essence, drawing as much power from it as he can.

The familiar blue light erupts from his chest and mixes with the void, two magics entwining and repulsing like oil and water. The waves of energy are just powerful enough to create a small opening, tiny enough that he can see the Fade within the Fade. It looks like another replica of the current Arvanitum – but this one is not in ruins. It looks perfectly preserved, as if frozen in time.

Spite clenches his jaw and with no small effort, brings his other hand to try and pull the prison apart. His attempts falter as the prison continues to reject him, but through the small opening the demon spies Rook’s childhood home, standing on the hill with soft orange candlelight flickering through the windows.

The journal reacts more strongly now, acting like a tether between him and the girl inside. The tugging in his chest becomes more uncomfortable, almost painful. The opening gets marginally larger, but not enough for him to pass through.

Finally, he feels the weight of futility falling on his shoulders, as his strength gives out and the opening collapses before him. Spite retreats back several steps, until he’s out of range of the prison’s gravitational pull. The demon lets out a frustrated growl.

Mierda.

He doesn’t like failure. But if he’s learned anything from watching Rook, failure is a teacher.

And the failed attempt does give him an idea.

It’s not something he’s ever tried, but instinctually knows he should be able to do. After all, he chose this form – chose to look like his host. He should be able to choose something else. And they are in the raw Fade - it’s much easier for him to be what he is here.

He thinks with a smaller form, and more speed, he can use the journal to force his way into the prison.

Spite pictures his and Lucanis’ namesake.

A Crow. I will send. My regards.

The demon flutters his wings, imagines them smaller, more compact. Shrinks himself down to the size of a small bird. The process is painful and uncomfortable, like bones breaking and reforming. When the process is done, Spite takes a moment to consider his new form. The feathers, claws, and sharp beaks – he likes. But at this size, he was hardly menacing. Thankfully, he doesn’t need menacing for this particular job.

With a beat of his wings and launches into the air. Spite, although smaller, can still feel the journal’s essence pulsating behind a plume of black and purple feathers.

Drawing on the power of the journal, he circles the air above the prison.

He flies a little higher, folds his wings against his back, and dives towards the prison. As Spite draws closer to the gravitational pull, that familiar feeling of being crushed under the weight of unimaginable pressure starts building, but he won’t let it slow him down. He pushes through the pain and keeps falling.

Falling, falling, and falling.

And the magic keeps ripping, tearing, and crushing.

Just when he thinks he can’t take it anymore, that he’ll be torn to pieces, he manages to push through the walls of the prison.

Spite lands on the dirt ground in front of her family home. The lights are on, and he can see movement from one of the upstairs windows. A small, lone shadow, moving about. The journal flickers brightly, and there’s that familiar tugging sensation in his chest.

Rook.

~*~

Madeleina Mercar mills about her room while her father sleeps, and her mother tends to the shop downstairs. She has lavender-scented candles filling the room with their sweet, heady, aroma. It smells like mother, like home.

And she is so very happy to be home.

She hums an old lullaby her father used to play on the lyre when she was smaller. She’s outgrown lullabies, but not stories. Never stories. She wonders which one he’ll tell tonight. He regaled her with the story of the Sleeping Princess, her favourite, last night.

And the night before that.

And the night before that.

Madeleina shakes her head.

There was a long time between now and story time. There were chores to be done, and after, she would go down and help her mother with the shop.

As she did the day before.

And the day before that.

Her mother had come in earlier and asked her to organize her books and clothes. Although her work is inherently messy, she despises mess. A contradiction the young Madeleina finds both endearing and frustrating in equal measure.

So, she shuffles back and forth, carting books into the small bookshelf in the corner, and haphazardly folded clothes into wooden drawers.

She’s about to start making her bed, when a rhythmic tapping noise gets her attention first. Madeleina, mid-step, turns towards the sound. She spies a small crow, one with unusual glowing purple eyes and brilliant black-and-violet plumage, sitting on her windowsill. Familiar purple eyes that turn her stomach.

She thinks it strange but decides to continue with her chores. She’s seeing things. It was just a trick of the light. Stop staying up so late, her mother’s phantom voice chides in the back of her mind.

The blanket is barely in her hands when the tapping, more aggressive now, resumes.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The crow fluffs its feathers and tilts its head innocently. Clearly not going anywhere. By now, she’s willing to consider the possibility she may not be seeing things.

“Rook”

The blanket drops from her hands. Her mouth hangs open stupidly.

The crow was speaking? To her?

“Let. Me. In” The crow demands, in a low, gravelly voice. Familiar. Like it’s eyes.

She doesn’t know what to do but stand there, still as a tree.

Animals don’t usually speak. Or have glowing purple eyes. It must be a demon of some sorts, come to possess her. Madeleina wants to run to her father’s bedroom, wake him and tell him to make it go away, but her feet stay planted in place. She wants to scream but only a soft breath escapes her lips. She wants her heart to start beating with fear and adrenaline.

But it doesn’t. It’s perfectly calm.

If this thing is a demon, then it’s one her body doesn’t feel uneasy around. And that frightens her.

“Let. Me. In.” The crow repeats and taps on the window again for good measure.

This was a terrible idea.

It’s going to possess me, it’s going to possess me. Madeleina repeats the sentence like a mantra as her feet carry her to the window. She wants to say they’re doing so against her will, but a small part of her knows that would be a lie.

The latch clicks as the window swings open, and the crow wastes no time flitting about her room in a daze of black and violet, before settling on the back of her chair. The young girl merely folds her hands in front of her and regards it wearily.

“Are you a demon?” She asks quietly, after a moment.

The bird nods. “I. Am. Spite.”

“Have you … have you come to possess me?”

It tilts his head, and almost looks offended at the question. “Come. To bring. You home. Rook.”

Madeleina mirrors the bird and tilts her head too. “I am home” She replies firmly.

“Not here. Not. Your home.” Spite says, “Come. With me. Rook.”

The young girl’s small fingers make fists at her side. What a stubborn little demon.

“You keep calling me Rook. Why? I don’t know that name”

“You. Are. Rook” The bird answers.

Madeleina shakes her head, and her thick ropey braid swings over her shoulder. “No, I’m not. I’m … I’m …”

I am … I’m … My name is …

It ruffles its feathers and looks like it’s about to peck her eyes out of her skull.

“You. Are. Rook.” The bird’s unnaturally deep voice says firmly, “Smell. Like Lavender and Rosewater. Chocolate and Cinnamon and Thunderstorms.”

It points a long, sharp beak towards the window.

“Lucanis. Waiting for you. And Your Stories”

Madeleina takes a few steps back and sits on the edge of her bed. She slowly ponders the name, turns it over in her mind like a stone she’s about to whip across a lake.

Lucanis.

Why is that name so familiar? The smell of chocolate and coffee fills her nostrils again. The warmth of a fire lingers on her skin. Then, the taste of something she’s never had on her tongue. It’s sweet, doughy, and powdered with cinnamon. She doesn’t have a name for it, but she knows it.

Madeleina closes her eyes and focuses on the new sensations – smell, touch, taste. All that is missing is sight. Why can’t she see, in her mind’s eye, what the crow is talking about? It was like trying to recall a dream right when you wake. A memory that slips through her fingers like trying to hold water.

“I …” She starts slowly, not quite sure what she wants to say. A sentence half-forms on her lips, then quickly unspools at the seams. Her lips press into a hard line, as she finds her confidence, “I don’t know that name. You must be mistaking me for someone else”

The bird flutters its tail feathers, irate at her rebuttal.

“You. Are. Rook” It repeats the same line with a surety that frightens her.

She doesn’t want there to be truth to it.

“You. Don’t remember.” The bird continues, “I. Will make. You remember.”

Madeleina wraps her arms around her knees, drawing in close to herself. She regards the crow carefully. “How do you even know me?”

“Freed us from. The Ossuary. Lucanis knows you. Lucanis and I. Are one. You made it so”

The Ossuary. That name should mean nothing to her. But the scent of brine and sulphur fill her nostrils, despite being hundreds of miles from the Nocen sea. The faint sensation of something horrible happening, in some place far, far, away.

“I’ve… done no such thing. And as I said before, I don’t know this ‘Lucanis’ you keep mentioning” Madeleina says, a touch more defensive. She points towards the window, “I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. Crow – er, Spite”

The crow fluffs up and settles onto the chair. A round, black-and-purple ball of defiance. Frustratingly true to its name and nature.

“I will not.”Spite replies, “Not. Without you.”

Madeleina huffs. She has half a mind to pick the bird up and throw it out the window. It is only the sharp beak that keeps her from doing it. That, and she promised her mother she wouldn’t trouble animals any further. Although, she’s certain her mother would make allowances for demons who’ve overstayed their welcome.

“Fine, then I’m going to sleep. You can stay there all day and all night. I’m not leaving” With a dramatic flourish, she turns towards the wall, throws her blanket over her, and pretends to nap. She shuts her eyes tight and hugs her blanket close. The picture of petulant, childish resistance.

The bird clicks and grinds its beak but doesn’t speak any further. Nor does she hear the fluttering of wings flying out of her window, as she hoped to.

“Once. Upon a time. In a land far. Far away” Spite begins after a few minutes of silence, in that familiar-but-not-quite patterned and disjointed speech.

Madeleina’s eyes fly open, but she doesn’t move. Only listens.

“King and Queen. They wanted. A baby. Couldn’t have one!”

Her heart beats uncomfortably quick in her chest. She tries to keep her breathing even as he continues.

“Queen goes. To a Spirit. Demon in disguise. Uses blood magic to have the baby”

It’s not the content of the story that’s making her nervous, it’s the emotions and memories they’re stirring up. The Sleeping Princess was a popular enough tale that it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for even a demon to rehash the plot, albeit clumsily. But there’s something more to it – a missing piece of this very strange puzzle.

“Lucanis. Waits for what happens next. But you stop. And take a break” The crow continues, “You stop. And his heart. Beats faster. He waits for you. Only you.”

There’s the smell of chocolate and cinnamon again. The warmth of a fire. But now she has a faint memory of a fireplace, one very different from the modest mantle in her home. It’s larger, more ornate. Made of a different kind of stone, she thinks. Madeleina is sitting on a wooden chair across from someone who’s face she can’t quite make out. The form is shadowed, but clearly that of a man’s. She couldn’t discern his features properly. She takes a sip of something warm, and he does the same.

Madeleina feels like they’ve done this many times and never at all.

“You show him. Wonders in front. Of his eyes. Stories brought to life. With magic. He measures nights. By your tales. Days. Waiting for the next.”

Madeleina covers her ears and curls up into a ball.

No, no, no.

This isn’t right. These memories are not hers. She doesn’t know this demon. The Ossuary means nothing to her. Nor does a man named Lucanis.

She is … She is a girl who lives in Arvanitum, with her parents. The baker and the bard and their daughter. Madeleina plays in the forest and learns the lyre and lute, she reads books and listens to her father’s stories every night. She’s learning to bake tartes from her mother, but always ends up burning them.

She is not what this demon says.

She is not Rook.

“Come. With me. Come. Ho- “

Spite squawks in surprise as her bedroom door flies open. The demonic crow escapes through the open window not even a moment later, as her mother enters her room.

Eurydice spies her daughter curled up on the bed, covering her ears.

“Darling, are you alright? I heard voices – “

Madeleina shoots up quickly and hugs her mother tightly the moment she’s within arm’s reach. A surprised ‘Oompf’ escapes her mother’s lips, but she circles her arms around the girl a moment later.

There’s another memory, different from the ones the crow’s story evoked. This one gave her an even stranger sense of deja-vu. An argument between them that happened on a day just like this. Something minor or silly, she thinks. Madeleina spent the rest of the day hiding out by the edge of the forest, drawing doodles in the dirt with a stick until it was dark. Orpheus had come to collect her on his way back from work, and she was still scowling the entire way home.

So much time wasted.

She hugs her mother closer, and tears are falling before any words even leave her mouth.

“I’m s-sorry” Madeleina whimpers.

Her mother is eerily silent as she starts brushing her fingers through Madeleina’s braided hair, and keeps an arm wrapped tightly around her.

A little too tightly.

~ *~

Lucanis Dellamorte awakes from slumber with a violent jolt.

Spite had come crashing back into him without warning, sending every fiber of his being on high alert.

He makes a strangled, gasping noise and shoots upright from his spot on Rook’s couch, with his heart pounding in his chest. He’s once again bathed in the familiar blue-green light of the panoramic ocean view in her room. Every time he wakes up here, there’s a small pang of fear that he’s back in the Ossuary. It quickly settles when he’s able to touch the velveteen fabric of the couch and hear the familiar clicking of her magical device in the corner. Little reminders that this was a place of comfort, of safety, and not the seat of his worst memories.

As Lucanis is busy gathering his thoughts, Spite wastes no time manifesting in front of him. The demon looks more irate than usual. He’s pacing back and forth, with gloved fingers curled into fists at his side.

Lucanis takes a deep breath, steadies himself and speaks.

“What happened, Spite?”

The demon stops his frantic pacing and scowls at its host.

“Rook. Is. A. Child.” He spits out. “Doesn’t. Listen to me! No one. Listens. To Spite!”

Lucanis’ face drops, and he’s on his feet a moment later.

“You saw her? In the Fade?” If the demon had a body, Lucanis would have a death grip on his shoulders.

Spite throws a hand in the air, “Tried. To get her. To come home. She won’t. Listen.”

Lucanis frowns. He’s so impatient he wants to leap out of his own skin.

“What did you see, Spite? I need to know” He doesn’t bother hiding the desperation in his voice. He doesn’t need to hide anything with Spite anymore.

“Dread Wolf’s prison. Made her small. A child again. Doesn’t remember us.”

His heart sinks into the pit of his stomach. The prison was making her forget Spite? Forget him? The situation was worse than he could have imagined. Fear and anxiety and horror clawed their way into his chest, putting down deep roots like he hadn’t experienced since his time in the Ossuary. This couldn’t be happening. He can’t lose her like this.

Spite touches the left side of his chest, where a heart would be if he was human.

“The journal. A little weaker.”

Lucanis runs a shaking hand through his hair and exhales nervously.

“She smells like blood and sulphur and iron. Dread Wolf’s blood magic. Using her memories. To keep her trapped.” Spite continues, before putting a spectral hand on Lucanis’ shoulder.

“Running. Out of time. Need to get. Rook out. Now.”

So, Solas used blood magic to go through her memories so as to keep her locked away. Lucanis can’t say he’s surprised the conniving Fen’Harel would pull a stunt like that. It does little to settle his temper, though. White hot rage bubbles under his skin, crackling like lightning. Spite feels it too, as he merges back with his host. Eyes burning bright violet as their spectral wings unfurled.

Lucanis doesn’t know how they were going to get her out.

But he does know that his target list went from two gods, to three.

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

A huge shoutout to @teawithshakespeare for helping me out with this chapter, it honestly wouldn't have happened without ur help. Srsly thank you so much for letting me ramble in your DM's about these two!!

Thanks again to everyone for reading, I appreciate you all!!

[lilac-hecox]

In all seriousness, if it is the Smosh Pit Fan Fiction episode and for some reason they do read something of mine here is my plan ✨️

1. I will be at work, so any action on my part won't be taken until 4 pm.

2. If I get anon hate as a consequence on here I will block and or delete them and not post them to give them the attention they want/will be seeking potentially.

3. If I get hate comments on ao3 on the fic they read from, the comments will simply be deleted.

4. I will not read the comments on the video itself.

5. If Ian or Anthony makes fun of me, it's over for me, and I will have to turn in my ianthony girlie card.

(BONUS: I am not going to do this but you can if you're nervous or anxious: lock your ao3 fics so you have to have an account to read them or comment on them and/or set comments to be moderated on your end.)

Ultimately, there is no stress or fear. I feel that, in general, they will be kind. It's more so the other fans that see fic as creepy I worry about but I have not seen one person overstep a line into being unhinged or dangerous or threatening irl and we are all just having fun. 🤷

[ratatatastic]

"Even him, like... you know, it's funny he's the one who, like, kinda lit the fire under our asses a couple years ago, right? When he called us for being soft or whatever? And then it was like... it was funny there would be, like, moments throughout, like, after that, we would have a comeback win and then, you know, somebody—I said it a couple times—would be like, 'Suck it, Walt!' Like, you know? Like, on the bench, and fuck, ya got Maurice cracking up about it! It was like..."

i love how long its been and we still keep finding out about the infamous keith soft fiasco and to know they absolutely called back to it every second they could because at the end of the day they're petty mfers and to know even PAUL LAUGHED oh destined team united in clowning maffhews dad together

[defective-4068]

Idk if any of you remember but for my 21st birthday, my friend got me a framed piece of 9-1-1 fanart. It's his birthday this week and I just ordered this on a card...

The card is 30cm by 42cm and we will be out all day and therefore he will have to carry it all day...

[hear-me-out-poll]

i sent all the pop stuff btw, hope you're not minding

It's all good!😄

[littlelovelore]

If you don't repost with credit, i'm not liable for the curse on you now; it's in the fine print 🤷‍♀️

ahhhhhh @herdarkestnightelegance

[justaghostingon]

Mini genshin theory: Hydro = Actors

So i saw a comic a while ago talking about what connected each character to their element. And we know now that a part of the archon’s magic is automatically given to those who fit. And that got me thinking.

What do all the water allogenes have in common with Focolors to resinate with her?

Then it came to me: Acting.

Barbara, a singer and idol, must always act as if she were the happy perfect person her fans believe her to be.

Xingqiu, always acting after his favorite characters in novels, struggling to cope with the expectations placed on him by his family.

Kokomi, a war general who is also a gentle soul, who must appear always in control to keep her troops moral up.

Yelan, always acting, always in disguise, donning any identiy to get the job done

Mona, acting confident and in control when she knows she has no mora and impulsivity that rapidly drains her funds when she gains some

And of course, tartaglia himself, willing to make a total fool of himself just to make his brother look up to him.

Im sure there are other hydro characters but i can’t think of the rest at the moment. The point is: hydro users are actors thanks to Focolors. Furina had to get it from somewhere

[shootingcookielover]

Hmmmm

[spoonmoment119]

DONT LET QUACKITY BEAT SAUSAGE LIKE HE BEAT ISKALL

[redr0sewrites]

i wanted to kinda talk about my opinion on some things related to Ana Huang and the romance genre in general- sorry for the rant!!!

finished king of sloth by ana huang and urgrhrgrhrhrh i actually really really enjoyed it!!!! (i say that ab everything i read tho tbh, i've just never been the type who criticizes the media i consume so PLEASE don't ever base ur opinions off of mine :)

my post isn't about the book specifically or even the author. i lowkey have a bone to pick and its NOT with ana huang or the book but moreso the reaction i've been noticing about the book (specifically from people who have been making fun of it and/or people who read it)! this isn't meant to start discourse or anything but i am open to polite discussion about some of the points im bringing up. this is generally focused around ana huang but also a lot of majority-feminine centric media has this same problem.

anyways, i'm gonna try to express how i feel as best i can without being rude or offensive ajshsjs-

it just lowkey irks me that sm people have been hating on ana huang now that she's getting attention, and since she's a romance writer, her fans and fanbase is mostly women and/or girls, (which is totally ok)!! however, i genuinely feel like this is just another barbie movie or sarah j mass or taylor swift scenario where the second something/someone that a lot of woman like starts to get publicity, people (mostly men) start excessively hating on it.

i have genuinely seen sm people dissing not only ana huang but her writing as well. now i don't know much about her as a person and i know that a lot of people are flawed so if she's genuinely done something wrong PLEASE lmk, i don't keep up w that stuff. and hey, maybe you just didn't like the book and thats ok too!!! its totally valid to not like something, but to make fun of an author and the people who enjoy her content just seems.. ehh.

a lot and i mean a LOT of people claim that she's only popular because of her smut but i actually enjoy her books more than just for the smutty/romance aspect. maybe that's just me, but i genuinely find it interesting and a lot of other people i know also enjoy it for the plot. and if u are reading for the smut that's ok as well, this is a totally safe space, and nobody should judge u on your reasons to read a book. the books are INTENDED to be fluffy and spicy and overall are just fictional romantic stories. they're smutty, funny books, not the bible. it shocks me how much people make fun of them.

i just keep seeing this trend of people negatively nitpicking anything and everything about authors and their writing ESPECIALLY when its romance and it just rubs me the wrong way. ive seen a LOT of people upset about huang including cameo's of her other characters in her latest book, and if you don't like those other characters so much then why... are u reading it??? THAT SOUNDS SO MEAN IM SORRY but its just so strange that people are upset about her including her own characters from her own series'?

its just disappointing that whenever someone or something becomes popular, there are always people who are just trying to be negative and diss it along with the people who enjoy it. i'm NOT making this post to be rude or offensive to people who genuinely don't like the author or the series, ur absolutely entitled to ur own opinion!!! however i have just seen this link SO MANY TIMES of people suddenly disliking something/someone bc a lot of woman seem to enjoy it and it just makes me a bit sad and disappointed.

(also side note can men stop hating on the romance genre and books they haven't even read? please??? can feminine people like anything anymore??? romance exists as such a successful genre bc the majority of readers are WOMEN who have to create fictional scenarios about being loved by seemingly "unachievable" men that are literally just doing the bare minimum. women fantasize about being treated with BASIC HUMAN RESPECT as though that isn't the standard, bc honestly, it isnt.)

THIS POST IS NOT MEANT TO EXCLUDE ANY OF MY FELLOW NON-FEMALE/NON-WOMAN OR GENDER NON CONFORMING FOLK WHO ALSO ENJOY ROMANCE!!!! THIS IS JUST A GENERALIZATION BASED ON THINGS I HAVE NOTICED, AND I AM NOT EDUCATED/HAVE A DEGREE ON THE MATTER!!!! THIS IS SIMPLY AN OBSERVATION!!!!! IF UVE READ THIS LONG, MWAH MWAH MWAH!!!

[silvershewolf247]

Nica: *seeing Andy's scars* What happened to your arms?

Andy: What happened to your arms?

Nica: Fuck you

Andy: Fuck you

[ryartchus]

Hi, do you have any tips on how to get over the fear of accidentally making characters ooc in fanart :’)

I’m always anxious about posting/showing art because my friends have been in the fandom for longer than me, and I’m worried if they’ll judge me if I accidentally make a character ooc because I’m new

Making things that are 'out of character' for fun is fun sometimes n theres nothing wrong with it IMO, i dont see any point in limiting fan content in that way. It's not like ur saying its canon or would happen and even if u are everyone interprets media differently!! Dont let any1 stop u from havin fun!! But if ur rly worried u can always just ask em 'do u think x would do x' before u make anything ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but i say draw and post whatever u like!

[racharii]

instituting the Egg Jar (a dollar per egg action) for my "husband" may backfire

im now under threat of being called a "precog chaser" by my beloved of 12 years

[salt-baby]

my coworker was ragging on me and joked that I kinda looked like a robot because of the clothes I had on

so I rolled up my pant leg to expose my metal orthotics and went "you can't say that to me, it's a micro aggression"

except I forgot I was escorting a new hire who was completely confused

whoops

[as-above-is-moving]

Actual footage of me fucking around and finding out

[callmepip]

tell us about the susie haltmann batman thing

ah! the susie/batman AU thing that I had as an idea whilst I was having a partial mental breakdown. for some reason the idea snapped me out of it so heres a basic rundown.

DISCLAIMER: I havent watched the Nolan batman movies yet.

susie haltmann was an orphan*. her mother was lost to vague circumstances, her father to capitalism. so she did what all tortured orphan billionaires do, (help the poor? naww) become a cool vigilante. marx is also there and is the thinly-veiled joker expy main villain because screw the timeline. might give some other characters the villain treatment too (thinking of dedede as two face andmagolor as bane, why? funny.) so i have the sort of outline for it, but things will probably change once I, y'know, actually watch the Nolan movies.

*still is