#lildevyl

[bonesandthebees]

Hey, Bee. I know this is probably a first time of me popping in, but I really need some advice from someone! From one writer to another! I have many DSMP, stories either started or have started but now, IDK, if I should continue to write them! For the first time in a long ass time, I feel like I hit a wall I can't climb over it. Part 1

hey lildevyl!

yeah believe me I get this struggle. if you're worried about the fandom reaction, I wouldn't be too concerned as long as when you post the fic you put a disclaimer that you're writing about the characters not the ccs and that you don't support the actions of the ccs. I think we reached a point even before this about how the fandom has largely reclaimed the characters as their own.

but if it's more about your own personal feelings, well, I would wait to make a decision. emotions are still high right now. like, it hasn't even been a week since shelby's first stream, and we got total confirmation of it being wilbur (although of course we already knew) from wilbur himself literally just a few hours ago. everyone is feeling a lot of things right now. the anger and sadness and discomfort we have around wilbur is at its peak.

basically, don't touch the story for a while. work on other projects, do other things irl, just focus on other stuff while your feelings settle. wait... at least a week I'd say, if not longer. then revisit the idea of writing the fic and see if that's something you're comfortable continuing or not.

hope you're doing okay :)

[fischyplier]

HAPPY NEW YEAR my Multi-Fandom Fiend!

Thank you! Happy New Year to you as well! ❤️

[weirdmixofweirdness]

Popping in b/c I want to wish you Good Luck on your Cosplays/Writing!

and HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!

Thanks!

[lostcybertronian]

HAPPY NEW YEAR my Multi-Fandom Fiend!

HAPPY NEW YEAR it's great to hear from you!

[spunketpunk]

HAPPY NEW YEAR my Multi-Fandom Fiend!

Aww thank you!! 🥹 Sorry I'm a little late answering but Happy New Years to you as well 😊✨️

[septic-dr-schneep]

HAPPY NEW YEAR my Multi-Fandom Fiend!

Happy birthday, 2024!

[luverofsupernatural]

HAPPY NEW YEAR my Multi-Fandom Fiend!

Hello hello! Happy New Year to you too!!🎉🎉

Hope this first week is full of rest and then we just take it from there.

[thevampireauthoress]

Hey Devyl, the fuss is about this song because the first lines are "do you remember/ the 21st night of September"

Anyway the 21st is a Tumblr holiday (and has been for a good number of years, I believe) equivalent to Neil banging out the tunes and the ides of March.

I’ve been waiting a year to post this

[thevampireauthoress]

HAPPY NEW YEAR my Multi-Fandom Fiend!

HAPPY NEW YEAR DEVYL!!! *HUGS*

[bonesandthebees]

I'm popping in b/c I want to wish you a MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!

thank you!!! merry christmas/happy holidays to you too!!!

[fischyplier]

I'm popping in to wish you a MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Thank you! And to you as well! ❤️❤️❤️

[weirdmixofweirdness]

As someone who didn’t get one of their breaks because of understaffing today and still, at the most, gets rewarded with minuscule meals once a week, I couldn’t agree more!

I found this proverb somewhere on this cursed website. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

[weirdmixofweirdness]

Hey Arden! I saw that your Writing Commisions are open. What Fandoms are you Writing/Autobooking for?

Good Luck and Happy Creating!

I’m doing it for Jacksepticeye and Markiplier egos. It may expand more as I get more adjusted to my own style. Also, I’m considering giving the money earned to a charity related to Palestine.

[lostcybertronian]

For the Prompts, how about "I Can't Control It"? Um, I'm not sure on the who for the Egos so, Imma gonna let you decide! HAPPY WRITING!

The one time Mark managed to bust through Celine's defenses. I imagine it took a lot of energy out of her.

Tags: @darkstache-iplier @redraspberrycats @cookieface678 @bing-iplier @storm337 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @pixelenchanter @itsjustkyss @darkiplurrr @darksaceofshadows @moonysmayhem @xpouii @projectwkm @sororia04s @purple-anxiety-blog @rabbitsartcorner @endangered-cryptid-reblogs @tried-my-best @skatle-skootle-demon-noodle

No amount of logs fed into the hearth could produce a fire that could heat the tiny cabin room; so Damien huddled under the threadbare blanket, holding his gloved hands as close to the flame as he could stand, willing feeling back into his numb fingers.

Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windowpanes. Heavy gusts of snow painted the landscape white, obscuring any view through the fogged glass. Damien worried for Celine, out there in the storm with only a rifle to protect herself. He worried that the winter would never end, and that they would never leave this cabin. Had it always been this way?

He couldn’t remember.

At some point he crawled into the creaking wooden cot they called a bed. At another point– much, much later– he must have fallen asleep. Because he woke up not to the roaring wind outside, but to the soft drip-drip-dripping of water to the floor.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Damien groaned. Pried his groggy eyes open. Turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling; he’d just repaired the roof a couple days ago, and it was leaking again?

But the more he lay there, breathing in, breathing out, his breath fogging up the now-dim air, the more it didn’t sound like the dripping of water. Not at all.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Fingernails against wood.

“Celine?” Had she come back? Damien sat up.

It was not Celine sitting at the table, but a figure Damien could not identify immediately. It hurt to look at him directly, leaving him with just the fringe details; a crimson coattail, shiny, slicked-back hair free of flecks of snow, the shiny end of a cane jutting into the old wood.

“Not Celine.” The figure drawled slowly, a thin grin snaking across his face. “Come, old friend, you don’t recognize me? You’d think with all the effort it took me to get here I’d receive a warmer welcome.”

Wait. Damien got up, stumbled, sat back down, clutching his head as half-formed memories flooded his brain. “You’re-” he stammered, “you’re supposed to be dead.”

Mark’s grin turned bitter, more like a grimace. Tap-tap-tap went his fingers to the table. “Funny how that works out, isn’t it?”

A million questions bubbled to the surface, overcoming, overwhelming. Damien opened his mouth to voice one– any one– but Mark waved a hand. “I don’t have time for your questions. It won’t be long until she realizes that I’m here.”

“Here.” The same fucking cabin they’d been in for how long? The same trees, cut down day after day, yet the firewood pile never seemed to grow bigger. Damien’s head ached. “Where is here?”

Mark’s eyebrows rose, and there was that smile again, Cheshire-wide. “You mean she hasn’t told you?”

Their gazes met. For the first time Damien noticed the sickly-sweet scent of decay hanging in the air, overwhelming the acrid stench of old ash.

Go on. Ask. Mark’s eyes bored into him, oily black irises swallowing his pupils. He’d never seen eyes that dark. Had never known eyes like that would belong to his friend.

He opened his mouth.

The ground began to shake. Red light seeped under the door and lit up the snowstorm outside.

Mark flung one hand out and an invisible force threw Damien to the floor. He stood, gripping his cane in one hand as he turned on one polished shoe to face the door right as it burst open, spilling snow and wind and red sparks into the cabin.

“You!” An axe flew through the air, missing Mark by a hair’s breadth. It clattered to the floor, clunking to the wall by the bed, mere feet from Damien. Celine charged in moments later, her rifle clutched in her hands, her face tight with fury.

“Me?” A sinister smile seemed to split Mark’s face in half, opening to a black maw of perfect teeth. Rows and rows of them. The cane snapped out and Celine stopped dead, her eyes widening as she suddenly found herself immobile and suspended. “I’d wondered when I’d see you again, dearest Celine.”

“Celine?” Damien watched as she struggled, caught in Mark’s grip, her rifle pinned to her chest.

“Damien!” Her cry was strangled. Anger and fear contorted her gaunt face.

Damien struggled to his feet, breaths coming in heavy pants, fogging the frigid air in front of him. “Mark! What are you doing?”

“If you trust me you need to run, Damien,” Mark grunted. Red began to spiderweb Celine’s invisible bonds, casting her face into sharp shadow. “I can’t control her for long.”

“What do you mean?” What was going on? Damien’s eyes darted from Mark to Celine, his friend to his sister. Mark’s entire focus was on keeping Celine contained. But Celine’s gaze was on him, even as she forced her way free of Mark’s power.

Mark risked a glance back at him. His eyes were hard. Something about his snarl sent chills down Damien’s spine. “Run, you naive fool! She’s a liar and a witch. She’s deceiving you! I can get you out of this forest! Back to your old life as mayor!”

“No!” Damien dove for the axe, snatching it up as there was an explosion of crimson. Celine raised her rifle.

Bam! The bullet plunged into Mark’s chest at the same time Damien’s axe buried itself into his back. The actor lurched forward, clutching at wounds that spilled black, black that soon became a fog and evaporated into the wind. He laughed. Tipped back his head and howled.

Then, he disintegrated.

Damien sank to his knees, feeling as if everything he’d known had been stripped from him. He looked up at Celine, hovering in the doorway. Wind whipped at her hair. She held her rifle tight to her chest, her face was grim. And tired.

“Now I’m going to need to hunt the bastard down again.” She said, half-mumbling, half to herself.

“What- you can’t go out now! You need to explain to me what the hell just happened!” Damien gestured to her, to the axe, abandoned on the floor, to the open door and the roaring snowstorm. The strength of his fury surprised even him. “I need answers, Celine!”

She glanced at him, as if remembering he was there. Then, she crossed the room. Helped him to his feet. “Answers will come later,” she said. “But for now, you need to rest.”

“How can I possibly-” she touched his forehead. That was it; a mere brush of her fingertips. Their surroundings flickered, and-

No amount of logs fed into the hearth could produce a fire that could heat the tiny cabin room; so Damien huddled under the threadbare blanket, holding his gloved hands as close to the flame as he could stand, willing feeling back into his numb fingers.

Outside, the wind howled, rattling the windowpanes. Heavy gusts of snow painted the landscape white, obscuring any view through the fogged glass. Damien worried for Celine, out there in the storm with only a rifle to protect herself. He worried that the winter would never end, and that they would never leave this cabin. Had it always been this way?

He couldn’t remember.

[fear-is-nameless]

Yo fin! How are you doin' my Multi-Fandom Fiend? Popping in saying that I love the new icon!

I'm not too bad! Glad that the seasons are finally changing & the colors are turning around here.

Thank you ^^ love seeing everyone's spooky profiles, pretty happy with mine.

[weirdmixofweirdness]

@lildevyl @septic-dr-schneep @iamvegorott

I made it