#maybe that’s on me for having such a short post w no elaboration in the main tag

[demonicintegrity]

Heads up, “don’t like don’t watch/scroll by” also applies to valid critique of your show.

If you can’t handle any criticism about a show we both watch and enjoy, don’t get snotty on my post about it like you’re on a high horse.

Critique is a valid form of engagement. In good faith, it comes from wanting to see a piece of media succeed and get better! And I understand some people don’t know how to critique properly and that is frustrating, but that still doesn’t mean being snotty is a good way of dealing with it, especially if you can’t back yourself up when confronted.

[transccornell]

PARTY POISON HC :3

BEFORE YOU READ!!

I ain't following the fan made cannon cuz I don't know shit about it n.....idc !!!! I'm gonna do what my little heart pleases nn what I feel they would do//like based on the mvs n songs.......don't give me any characters with little to no cannon I WILL MAKE MY OWN‼️‼️

��They definitely love doodling on random shit, walls, their own hands, clothing,,,, don't leave that little guy with a sharpie HE WILL DOODLE EVERYTHING!! I feel like they would use it as a way of decompressing,, got too tired of killing draculoids? doodle. BL/ind is driving them insane? doodle yer feelings away. The little girl he rescued got kidnapped? fuck man, that sucks, doodle smth.. after all, art is the weapon, right?

•I feel like they have a hard time w gender n sexuality. They don't necessarily fit into the gender binary (male/female) but don't feel like they're NB either, but they are certain they're not agender....they're just..them... I also feel like they don't really mind what pronouns you use w them..do you call them by she? cool, awesome even. He? fucking great. They? classic, but not wrong. It? alright man, cool.

•That guy shoved one of BL/ind's pill bottles up his ass... I just imagine him doing it out in the wild, hoping for them to see it as some kind of ""protest""..it probably got stuck, but who cares..

•They don't really believe in any religion but I feel like they pray sometimes,, I mean, battery city is rough, life gets stressful & humans become hopeless... Of course they're gonna beg to some divine being to help them...

•THEIR FAVORITE ANIMAL IS CATS I DONT WANNA ELABORATE I JUST KNOW IT. THAT GUY GOES PSPSPSPSPSPS WHENEVER HE SEES A FUCKING CAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THW DESSERT.

•They're a furry...kinda... I mean, after some time of wearing the Mousekat mask...It just sticks, yanno...

•Defo had smth with the rest of the killjoys (but the girl & Kobra kid cuz one's a minor n the other one's their damn brother).. Desperate times require desperate measures, & their sexuality being as confusing as their gender makes them explore a lil..

•HATES beans.. It's the only they can really eat which made them hate that damn thing with passion.. They tried eating them with sand as a "spice" but it obviously didn't work & only made them ill..

•They're somewhat curious about the past. like, "they ate that? cookies that looked like cakes?!" BRO WOULD DIE IF HE SAW A CRUMBL COOKIE (or maybe not since they saw worse..).

•Piss fetish, bondage fetish n blood kink. I won't elaborate.

note: It's kinda short but it's my first time ever making a HC post.....I just felt like writing this after relistening Danger Days ahaha :') sorry if something's ""out of character"" but album poison barely has any cannon to work with in the first place so..... DONT COMPLAIN K

any spelling mistakes were made because-- as a Spanish speaker --have no respect towards the English language (it's a reference it's a reference it's a re)

Lmk if y'all want more!!

[sweetrottenendings]

"Budding Flowers"

Yeah i made a blog just to post Lawrence Oleander fanfiction and what. How do i make my blog look nice btw please help

MDNI !!!! this game series is not for u i pinkie promise u aren't missing out

-

Lawrence Oleander x GN!Reader

SFW, not much happenin tbh. 653 words.

-

The sun’s gentle light gleams in streaks throughout the store, illuminating each plant's colour in striking detail. From the common red rose, to the odd-looking bat flower, not a single one was left in the dark.  It was in moments like these that you truly felt at peace- at home. The silence, the colours and the smells. It was where you belonged. 

A sharp ding interrupts your peace, daring to shatter your dreamland. A scowl flits across your face before it settles- you have a job to do after all. Turning to the store’s entrance, you accidentally lock eyes with a customer. Blue captures your vision, a blistering sort of shade- hurts to look at for too long. The owner of said eyes, a tall- recluse looking man, flinches at your gaze and hurriedly scuttles into the store isles. You huff, stepping from your solitary spot to seek him out. Hopefully, your assistance will make him leave quicker.

You’re almost directly behind him as you watch his movements. His slumped form is currently looking at the Medinilla Magnifica- the Rose Grape in layman’s terms, a difficult plant to care for. It’s high maintenance, requiring a humidity of 90%- and no less! Along with its general temperature requirements, as well as its pickiness for remaining still. Like a child, but worse. He doesn’t seem fussed however, gently running his scarred hands along one on display. Not many are kept in store due to their maintenance, but there are plenty of seeds available. He picks up a pack, turning it around and seemingly reading its details. Putting a fake pep in your step, you finally stand by his side.

“Welcome!” You speak, a gentle dulcet tone lacing your voice. He jumps, nearly dropping the packet. “I see you’re interested in our Rose Grape flowers! Hard to look after, is that what you’re looking for?” Tilting your head cutely, hands clasped in front of your front- hopefully he couldn’t sense the distaste lingering. He stares at you with disgustingly wide eyes, taking a good minute to compose himself. When he finally speaks, you’re pleasantly surprised. His voice isn’t extremely deep, but it has a nice rasp and almost husky tone. “Yes, uh- I enjoy difficult plants…” He doesn’t elaborate, so you do it for him, “Ah! You must have experience then! Do you have a lot of plants at home? Maybe a garden even?” Another pause lingers as he finds his voice once more, this time with a smile gracing his lips. Cute.

He looks wistfully towards the display, “No garden, I live in an apartment- but I have a lot of plants. I love them, they need me- it’s nice.” odd statement, but you lean into it. “Plants are pretty delicate, we’re their life force after all- dictating if they live or die.” His eyes gain a shimmer at your words, and he stands up slightly straighter- excitement filtering into his voice. “Y-yeah, that’s true!...” The poor man can’t seem to find anything else to say, so you wrap up the interaction.

“So, anything else you’re after?” You pointedly look into his eyes this time, and watch him gulp. 

“Just- um- just a few things… I’ll be a moment.” You nod, swivelling away just to look back at him, “I’ll be at the checkout when you’re ready!” He doesn’t respond.

A short time later he floats to your desk, gently laying out his purchases in front of you. He fidgets with his fingers as you scan the items, his eyes lingering on your face. You read out the price, and he reaches to hand you cash. Your fingertips graze and you only just notice the way he shivers, it’s almost endearing. “W-what’s your- uh- name?” He stammers, a sudden confidence bursting through his veins. You smile, give your name to him, and ask for his in return.

He smiles,

“Lawrence.”

Maybe you’ll see him again.

[lostacelonnie]

Hi, don't know if you remember me but you recently rbed my post about how Siegfried reuniting w his daughters was a rushed scene and I wanted to hear your opinions on the matter? Sorry if it's overstepping but im just curious haha.

Have a nice day!

AH HI!!! right yes i did thank you for reminding me!!!! i have very strong opinions on the matter so ill be happy to share.

(for people who haven't seen the og post, here it is)

THE SHORT VERSION: i agree with you completely and am Extremely Angry at mihoyo because EVERYONE is mischaracterized in that scene. or rather, in the entirety of moon arc, but that's something for another post.

THE LONG VERSION:

I Am So Fucking Mad.

so first of all, im probs gonna focus on bianka a lot in this because im unbelievably obsessed with her. and goddamn was that scene so bad. and also repeat a lot of things you Already Said.

to begin. it's very rushed!!!!!! this scene in its Base Format is inherently flawed simply because... bianka would not reveal her origin that early. like obviously at that point she was already being written very ooc [LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ARC. SERIOUSLY. IM SO ANGRY ABOUT THAT] but arrrghgh. at least before this scene they at least pretended to preserve bianka's. how do i call it. General Cautiousness?

this is something that clearly means a lot to her and is shown before trying to figure out how to break the news in a gentle way. she is simply not a person who would say [in a very strangely spoken way] "oh im your daughter by the way". She Would Not. this is a woman who would awkwardly try to hang out with these two for a solid 2 months as she feels out how to Tell Them. while obviously, during moon arc she had already spent enough time with the rest of the main cast to Chill Out a bit, she's still just!! kind of emotionally and socially awkward!!! but in a completely different way than showcased in moon arc. does that make sense

also bianka does not speak like that istg if mhy doesn't learn the difference between a character that is Kind Of Serious and a character that sounds like they use a thesaurus for most their sentences-

but kiana and siegfried aren't safe from this either!!!!!! as you said. they departed on Not Great terms and have been separated for years. while they act as if its been maybe a couple of days. its very disappointing for me personally to see the complete lack of regard for the fact that yes, they do care about each other and this reunion is a very happy one, but still!! their bond was. a rocky one.

plus, there's a giant difference between a preteen and, at that point, an adult woman so. siegfried is not meeting the same person he lost. kiana has changed, and due to her experiences- probably even abnormally so, so they NEED to rebuild their relationship simply because even IF before their separation there was no conflict, it would change the fact its been far too long to treat each other as if they have never been apart.

AND the fact that kiana especially was so... unbothered? by the fact that DURANDAL IS HER SISTER. like. do i even have to elaborate. kiana kaslana, world's #1 identity crisis haver, someone who idolized, hated, and respected bianka [in that order], was just like. okay 💗 yay 💗? sighs so deeply. look at how they massacred my girls

theres much more i could say but i dont quite know how to put most of my dislike of this scene into words so like. arrggh. it was personally very very frustrating to me because, as i said, i am a big fan of both kiana's and bianka's. identity, and especially family heritage, is an extremely important part of both of their characters and it was physically painful for me to see a scene i looked forward to A Lot be dismissed like this.

which, unfortunately, is true for most of the moon arc, since it was the worst offender for characterization [or rather, lack thereof] in the entire game, with basically everyone being reduced to a mildly philosophical much so devoid of personality i probably couldn't tell their lines apart if presented with a couple. but alas.

at least salt snow holy city arc was amazing

[t-hornapple]

Have you ever talked about your art process with a focus on composition and how you block out shape+values? I really admire how you do that in your work, and it’s something I find particularly difficult to do myself, so if you’ve ever posted about it (incl. on your patreon?) I’d love to read it. Thank you!

I haven’t, no one’s ever asked before!

Short answer is that tones can be a lot of trial and error (I don’t always know what will be black vs white vs filled in with stripes to knock it back a bit), and composition is just second nature these days. But I can illustrate my thought process and show you how compositions work with a few examples:

The Knight of the Tapestry has a really busy cloak pattern and, arguably, the details of the armor read quite busy as well. And since the knight and these patterns are the focus, it needs to be surrounded by things that will 1) balance it out and let the eye rest; 2) provide form contrast so we can see the subject clearly.

The cloak is balanced out a lot by the black shadow and the black lining. The white window panes to the left also help give some balance to it all. You could also use the word “contrast” instead of balance—I am contrasting Highly Patterned with no pattern, just black or white. This is what b&w art really makes you good at—instead of balancing color, you really balance the heaviness of an area, and focus on balancing out levels of detail to help guide the eye to the subject.

Compositionally, all the lines around the subject guide to the subject. This is one reason why I like putting so many windows in my work, they’re a really really easy way to get the background to do a lot of heavy lifting for you.

The rule of thirds is… sort of at work here with the window / knight / screen filling up (roughly) thirds of the piece. This breaks below his feet, though, where the composition is split into two, and the horizontal line of the floor is also at the half-way point (though the knight’s feet are slightly closer to a 1/3rd mark horizontally.) Just goes to show, rule of thirds has some wiggle room. If you do struggle with compositions, though, try the rule of thirds. Or try my favorite guy, the Van de Graaff layout. (I will talk about this later if anyone’s interested, though I don’t use it TOO much in my illustration work, but only for book layouts, etc)

This one I struggled a lot with figuring out what should be black or white, and how many tiles to give a pattern. Medieval tiles could be very elaborate, and a lot of extant medieval floors show a multitude of different patterned tiles being used all together in a mad sort of mashup. I tried that—and it was overwhelming. I had to really pick and choose 1) what pattern I was going to use; 2) how many tiles were going to have a pattern. I ended up with this triangle one because the geometric pattern balances out the organic patterns of the cloak. It lets them breathe and be, really, the only very organic pattern in the piece (the quatrefoil cut outs of the screen are arguably organic, but also geometric…). So this was a lot of trail and error. For me, still, tones and black fill are very much a “fuck around and find out” sort of exercise. There’s one I did more recently that was a HUGE trial to figure, and I’d talk about that one, but despite everyone being clothed in it, tumblr keeps banning it when I try to post it. (It is very suggestive, I won’t lie.)

Okay, let’s look at the Martyr’s Cross Club, one with (at first glance) quite odd composition. You “should” put the subject in the middle, right? Or maybe not have him so far out on the left there…? Except he’s not the subject. This is a piece looking at the men enjoying him, so they get more emphasis.

For tone and balancing, the very busy damask (which is based on a real damask by the way from the Met), is the background to the two figures on the right. The right-most one is just in his shirtsleeves, and his hair is just filled with flat black. This balances out/gives contrast to the patterned curtain, and lets the eye rest. The guy next to him, for contrast, gets to have some fun pattern on his coat. The rest of the room is black and white, and the heaviest use of black is on the cross, which is up against a wall without much detail so that I get the maximum contrast possible. It really sticks out, despite there being an insane damask on the right side of the piece.

I think this one is really good for showing how to use patterns/tones/high detail without overwhelming the composition or making it hard for the eye to read. Left to right, it goes: white / black / white / pattern / white / pattern. There’s white buffer between everything, well, not white, and that lets the eye rest, and makes everyone stand out clearly from each other.

As for the composition, this is an interesting one because we have invisible composition lines. The curtain and the cross are the strongest composition lines, but the gazes of the men take us across the piece to the guy on the cross. There’s no line, just the gazes of the subjects. We want to see what they’re seeing. It’s really cool. There aren’t many (or any) compositional lines really leading up to the mirror above the cross, which is why a lot of people miss it the first time they see the piece. It’s a little treat for those who linger.

For me, my eye always rests on the guy at the far right (but maybe just because I think he’s the hottest one in the piece.)

Lastly, we’ll look at The Vase, since this one gets the most comments about its composition (and I cherish them all).

This one follows the same rules as always: pattern and high detail is balanced out by white and black. A geometric pattern (stripes on that ottoman or whatever it is) is right behind an organic pattern, which is also up against a black window. The molding on the mantle is next to rough brick texture. The laurel frame is against a white wall. It breathes. You can wander from pattern to pattern, detail to detail. They all take the center stage—the subject is, after all, the vase itself. The people in the art piece are little bonuses to be discovered as you wander around.

Some of the lines go to the vase. Some of them don’t. This is a piece where the eye wanders a lot, but it never leaves the frame much. You keep getting pulled back in and around by all the weird shapes. I think the invisible striking arc of the crop could also be a composition line that people follow—I don’t, but it’s conceivable. (And of note: the crop is not in the act of striking, but it's being flexed in the guy's hands. That does not probably come across tho)

This sort of composition, where you deliberately fuck with the viewer and pull their gaze to something that usually isn’t the subject, is really fun to do. I don’t think the composition itself is anything weird—but what it highlights is unexpected, which makes it feel weird. I would highly highly suggest people start playing around with stuff like this since it can create a lot of different emotions & really surprise viewers. I don’t think it’s particularly hard, you just have to start fucking around and seeing what works. And when it comes to backgrounds, don’t be afraid of them! They’re your friend & you can use them to do a lot of work for you.

I hope that helps! If anyone has questions feel free to ask, I’m always happy to explain something.

[hypercuntz]

彡┆ rules .ᐟ do not interact with me if you are a minor. you will be blocked. that being said, please make sure you have your age in your bio or somewhere easily accessible. if you’re caught you will be dealt with mhm mhm.

i write fem reader— that’s how i identify and what i feel most comfortable with. when sending a request pleaseee don’t send a long drawn-out elaborate story. keep it short and cute. really gets the creative juices flowing. my requests are always open unless stated otherwise one my pinned post. do not rush me w your request. i am a stem major (rip) !!1!1! so i’m very busy, but i will get to it. i write for aot, jjk, bllk, hq, & mha. if you ever have any questions abt who i write for or anything regarding requests please do not hesitate to ask !! i will not write scat, vore, vomit, race play, etc.

in terms of dark content, i do interact with it (maybe write?), but everything will be tagged. for example “cw piss kink” feel free to block me or any tags that make you uncomfortable.

that’s about it!

tagz

keeping the cache clean

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[silverislander]

actually i am going to elaborate on that psychoanalyzing blorbo post from days ago lol. long story short i've been trying since abt september to kind of start getting my shit together, maybe get into some kind of club or hobby that will help me work on my anxiety, maybe do some bucket list kind of stuff i've been putting off. and then last month mom got diagnosed w breast cancer

my Consistent response to things going wrong in my life is avoidance, isolating myself and trying to repress shit, so i gave up on all of those plans immediately bc i felt like it would put strain on my family and i started trying my best to focus on literally anything else bc i have shit to do + people/a job that needs me + i really couldn't face the reality of it right away

and that news came literally days after act 1 aired. so watching caitlyn then go on to try to repress any and all of her emotions/wants in favour of trying to be the person she believes everyone around her wants her to be and seeing exactly how badly that fucks up her life. felt extremely fucking pointed let me fucking tell you

[her0-se7en]

PINNED POST LET'S GO TL;DR at the end

here's the thing fellas.

this blog is a mess, allow me to elaborate:

common: reblogs

uncommon: random thoughts of topics I find interesting

rare: posts including media

epic: art/original characters

legendary: art WITH original characters AND lore

[I will not be classifying every post, srry ;w;]

More about me:

I'm a beginner artist: I usually draw traditionally, but I'm experimenting with a few digital drawing softwares (mainly Krita)

I'm new to Tumblr, so I don't know a lot about any events or historical posts (except the color of the sky and a few others). All I saw up until I came here were mere screenshots and a few youtube shorts.

Pinterest is my hometown.

I like creating stories, but they're all in my head and I'll probably never write nor draw them, maybe in the future I'll have enough motivation to do so, who knows? [Please, ask me about them, I'm dying to explain them, even if I don't even know what's going on]

That's all there is to my name at the moment

(more under cut)

Moving on to...

Music taste!!! just because I have no idea what's going on there

Metal (SOAD, Orbit Culture, Disturbed, one Korn song, Rob Zombie, Nightwish, Within Temptation, etc)

Rock (Dio, Avenged Sevenfold, Three Days Grace, Twisted Sisters, KISS, etc)

Breakcore/dnb (Xxtarlit, eightiesheadache, Be4utyFall, etc)

Eurobeat (Eurobeat Brony, Leslie Parrish, T. Stebbins, and etc once again)

Along with miscellaneous, like animation memes.

OSTs of my favourite games!

Speaking of which, here are some game fandoms I'm in rn:

Rain World

Slime Rancher

Minecraft

Fnaf

Portal 1&2

The Stanley Parable

there are probably more that I forgot about, who knows

If you want you can check out my Instagram, I'll post some of my drawings in there, only if I really want to though.

TD;DR I like to draw, listen to a few metal and rock bands mainly, play casual games and am "new" to Tumblr [came from Pinterest]

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

The Little Things I Love About ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE

Just like the one I did for PUSS IN BOOTS: THE LAST WISH, and just like the one I did for STRANGE WORLD, here's a little list of particular little details I loved in a detail-packed... Like, literally jampacked movie... SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE:

So far, I have only seen this movie once all the way through in theaters, caught multiple sections over and over at my movie theater job, and again in full on Blu-ray once. I've watched and rewatched sections since, always finding cool stuff. I may revisit the post and update it, too, like I did w/ the previous ones.

Also, MASSIVE SPOILERS ahead... Just in case you still haven't seen this months-old movie...

Much like the first SPIDER-VERSE... Tons of stuff to catch in the glitching opening logos. Logo/design p0rn aaaaall around.

There's already a lot to love in the opening Medieval Vulture attack set-piece, but my favorite detail? As an Italian-American? "Ciao, ragazza!" Complete with the parchment paper script "Bye, girl!" accompanying it. Any elementary school-age kid watching this now knows a little Italian, that's cool!

Lyla's first scene in the movie. Whichever version, too, whether it's the fist-bump or the selfie... I love how she just glitches and zips in and out, while Miguel keeps asking her in vain to call for back-up. Just an out-of-nowhere display of what kind of quirky relationship these two have...

Many have written about the scenes of Gwen and her father, Captain George Stacy, and how they hit very close to home. In that, they perfectly mirror some folks' experiences with coming out. Myself included, whether it's Miles or Gwen... It's even more effective with Gwen, because there are a lot of not-so-subtle hints that she could be a trans girl. (i.e. the dad having a trans flag on his uniform, Gwen having a "protect trans kid" flag, her room turning into trans flag pastel colors when she reconnects with her father at the end of the movie, etc.) I feel it's twice as hard-hitting in the opening action sequence because Captain Stacy has no idea the white-and-pink Spider-Woman is his daughter, loathes Spider-Woman for not-unfounded reasons (he's rightfully upset that Peter Parker is dead) but is taking it way too far (revenge territory), and he's also a cop. Here's this girl trying to reason with a hardened gun-wielding tough guy, who even fires the gun, prompting Gwen to remove the mask... And all the little complexities in the animated acting on George's face, the shock of his daughter being Spider-Woman, mixed with his grief over Parker's death and his sheer anger... It's maybe a minute or two, but goddamn did these animators go off. That's what anchors these movies amidst all the nerd/reference-stuff, spectacle, and dynamic changing art styles.

And to elaborate on this... This is basically a movie about a queer kid running off, without a home, while another one tries to find their people and be with them... Not prepared for the gatekeeping that's ahead... and some of us queers either experience something like those specific things or have a feeling of not belonging. (I also really dig how Jessica Drew is almost like a surrogate mother for Gwen, a parent of sorts who takes her in after showing her father who she is. Almost, as her protectiveness soon starts to wear off and gives way to sarcastic coldness after Gwen pays Miles a visit.) And the little nuances of both of their struggles trying to make it in this truly "elite" Spider-Society. It works perfectly through either Miles' lens or Gwen's.

Lots of graphic design and logos in that short convenience store scene, too. Lots for someone like me to look for.

The Spot seems to have linework going on inside him, of his anatomy and structure... Not dissimilar to the Xerography process used by Disney for animated productions from 1960 to 1985, and how the process overriding the clean-up animation process meant that you saw lots of rough linework, sketches, and planning inside of the characters. Like the rawness of the drawings preserved in the finished films. That technique is often paid homage to in other animated works, such as Tomm Moore's Irish triptych films that he did for Cartoon Saloon.

Much was written about, especially because one of the trailers showed this gag, Rio Morales snapping her finger upon hearing that Miles got a lower grade in Spanish class. A little after that, while Jeff is speaking, the look on her face. How utterly INSULTED she is- Again, just, ooh, great animated acting all around.

"Maybe get off the kid's a-

The first universe Spot visits, love that it's very 2D-looking and very, *very* comic book, a hint of pulp and Art Deco and '60s modern rolled into one... before giving us Venomverse (oh I'm sorry, SUMC) and LEGO.

Much of the Morales' rooftop party scene is just jam-packed to the moon and back with all these little writing nuances, tying in all this stuff about being a teen who is hiding something, reasoning with one's well-meaning but very controlling parents, all the humor and drama that stems from that. All that awkwardness, the embarrassment, how the guests play off of all of that, etc.

Miles pursuing The Spot whilst trying to talk to him... I mean, the entire Mumbattan sequence alone mops the floor w/ maybe 95% of superhero movies made in the last 5 years, but... This scene in particular, where the two are flying through a bunch of intricately-designed and planned buildings full of people with all these swooping camera angles- GO HARD they did.

Hobie's universe particularly referencing the ransom note letterforms that made up the cover of the iconic Sex Pistols album NEVER MIND THE BOLLOCKS, HERE'S THE SEX PISTOLS. They leaned *hard* on early punk from the '70s, more so than any other era, and that's so damn cool.

The subtle animated acting from Gwen during Miguel's warning to Miles about disrupting canon. All the inner-conflict over believing in it or not. And even before that, too, particularly in the aftermath of the Mumbattan Alchemax building collapsing onto the bridge.

And during that whole scene, as the different Spiders start to surround Miles, I like how Hobie is more turned to the side than facing Miles directly, unlike the other Spiders. That's just seconds before it's made clear that Hobie is on Miles' side.

The super-widescreen, Panavision-esque aspect ratio change when - during the whole Spider Society chase - Miles lands on Widow and is confronted by Web-Slinger. Really channeling the spaghetti Westerns, even if that bit has been done before, its use here - very clever.

"SNITCH!"

Miles' smirk when he begins to use his electric charge power to knock Miguel off of him, right before he's about to tell him - and by extension everyone who ever doubted him or told him he can't do what's right or what he desires - off.

The "Go Home Machine" literally being an elaborate spider, itself, inside a nest. Everything, right down to the machinery, all spider-themed. Simply going ALL OUT. Also that scanner that Miguel angrily rips out of the console... What a hilariously excessive work of art that thing is, and we only really see it for like 5 seconds.

Like I said, will likely add more, and this probably read more like yet another review of this film that I really, really love. I apologize for that, lol.

[udurghsigil]

i see u post it a lot but i still dont know what madcom is whats it about?

omg!!!! *rubs my gayass little hands together* sorry for the incoming wall of text. i love this weird little series to death.

so madness combat.... this lil cartoon series that started on newgrounds (by krinkels)... starts off with a guy named hank that doesn't like the music some other guy is playing so he goes around and kills everyone in sight (non-bloodily). but from that point forward it just gets more and more elaborate, much more gory and gruesome, with new characters being introduced and actions from previous cartoons carrying on into the next ones... for example hank Literally kills the sun, now every cartoon going forward just has a dark red-tinted sky. things also just get weird and sorta otherworldy too which i love!

there's like no dialogue n most of it is, i surpose, environmental storytelling??? it heavily focuses on the fight scenes of the main character just wiping out room after room of other chars, and the choreography of the fights are just. so much fun. so many very clean kills its impressive to see how they get pulled off. think like... those old stick fight animations, but typically more elaborate!

um also worth mentioning the characters (pretty much) all look like this. just little stubby guys w their little outfits (except for the big guys). yes i'm taking alot of liberties with my designs for them. and yes there are more chars than just sanfy and deimo.

this kinda series isn't USUALLY the type of thing i'd get into but i just find it so mesmerizing idk. i used to be embarrassed abt it but not anymore. like i said the fight scenes are SO much fun and i rediscovered it after like... only seeing a few cartoons as a child through the friday night funkin' mod scene cuz there are a TON of cool madcom-themed mods. the fandom is also HUGE so it's fun to just. observe what everyone is doing. i can't say i'm a big participant in it other than posting my art but i love seeing what the community makes. there is a ton of fuckin amazing fan content from animations to fangames to art to music to... everything!!! obv i love sanmos the most because i'm a sucker for duos and it's just so much fun seeing how expressive these Faceless Guys are to where you can get a sense of their bond without even needing it spelled out....

it also has a REALLY AMAZING game that came out recently called madness: project nexus and i'm not just saying that because i like madcom!!!! it's a really fun beat-em-up with very smooth controls and . god. i just have so much fun playing it. i could play arena mode for hours. plus it lets the characters actually talk and its cute seeing them interact :333 i GENUINELY recommend this game if u like fast-paced beat-em-ups it's such a blast to play even with 0 knowledge of the original series.

ANYWHO YES.... it is a little silly i admit. but i just adoooore madcom so much. i love me some stickman fights and seeing how the world just unfurls with each cartoon is so fun. it's like you can really see when krinkels is going "maybe i can expand on this little thing i added in X cartoon" when some New Lore drops. i Love when the creative process is like... idk. so palpable. heck i recommend the cartoon series too if ur not squeamish abt stickman gore. it's quite a short watch honestly... 👉🏽👈🏽

[rotten-whispers]

1-800-Suicide - Short Horror Story

A re-upload of one of my first horror stories! Matthias wants his life to stop. The strange advertisement he received might be able to help with his goal, but at what cost?

Note: Content is not graphic but may still be triggering to some. This is a work of fiction. I do not condone the actions of any of the characters... If you need help, please reach out to a hotline and do not read this to trigger yourself!

Based on the song "Doctor Online" by Zeromancer!

"Thank you for calling 1-800-Suicide. If you wish to self terminate by electric shock, press 1. For termination by overdose, press 2. If you would like to make a reservation to visit our drowning pool, please press 3. For termination by hanging, please press 4. For death by self-inflicting gunshot, press 5. To speak to a representative, stay on the line. If you do not wish to die, please hang up now."

I can never tell if it's a joke or not. I've called in about five times, and I've hung up four times. This time I think that I'm staying on the line. If this is real, I'm going to find out about it.

It's been several minutes, and so far no "representative" has picked up. It's just the same recorded message, asking me to push 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, ex.

Nervously, I shift my feet and press the phone between my shoulder and ear. Maybe this is a bad idea. Yes, of course, it's a shitty, impulsive decision that I will most likely come to regret-

"This is 1-800-Suicide, how may I help you?"

The small voice that comes out of the phone makes me flinch. I grab for the phone and clutch it in my hands. As usual, there's the slight sting of fear that any phone conversation brings to life within me.

"Um. . . My name is Mathias, and I think I want to die."

"Certainly. Are you seeking assistance in any way? Or do you have any questions about our services?" No pause. The woman continues, in the same smooth tone. It's professional. It's unattached. I'm speechless.

"U-Uh, I just wanted to – what exactly are your services?"

I got the number from a weird advertisement. I'd been posting a lot of depressing/edgy things on my blog recently, and the strangest spamblog followed me recently. They only had a single post.

"1-800-Suicide or maybe Doctor Online can help you die"

At first I thought that it was a joke, or just another random generation of words – you know how Adblogs are. But then I realized that I had nothing to lose by trying the number, right? Sure it might be a real number, and sure something terrible might happen by me calling them – I.e, a weird company now having my number in their system. But I wanted to die anyway, so what did it matter if I messed my life up?

I've already been doing a lot of "risky" shit anyway. Like taking long walks into the middle of nowhere, knowing that I look weak enough to be an easy target. Hoping to be kidnapped half the time, terrified that it would happen the other half. But still I did it.

But I've never gone as far as actively trying to kill myself. Sure, I spend a bit too long peering over the edge of buildings. And recently I've been staring at sharp objects with what could only be described as longing. But those are just thoughts, right? Impulses, like the thought of stabbing your hand into a running fan. Watch those fingers fly off.

"We offer individuals the opportunity to commit suicide, sir."

My breath hitches in my throat. "W-What?" I croak, wondering if this is an elaborate prank. Surely it cannot be real? "I thought that you helped talk people out of suicide, or assisted people with depression or-"

"-If you are interested in preventing self-harm and self-termination in any way, then I can patch you through to the Suicide Hotline-"

"No!" I yell, surprising myself, and swallow again. "That – that's alright."

What am I doing? This is obviously something sketchy or something illegal. But I can't hang up. Honestly, does it matter? It might be interesting.

I probably should have contacted the Suicide Hotline instead, but I didn't, and so I'm here. Pathetic.

"What do you need assistance with, sir?"

"W-What do you do?" I continue, my breathing rough and nervous. I keep glancing at the door, afraid that my room-mate is going to return and ask why his friend is pressed against the wall like a spider. "Those services that you mentioned – how do you provide them?"

Again, no pause. Nothing but smooth transition. "We will require your name and the verbal consent to send someone to you. Once you have verbally consented, our employee will further inform you. Nothing will be done without your complete agreement, rest assured. Is there a specific method that you would be interested in?"

I'm shaking. I clench my muscles and try to pretend that I'm not actually considering this. That I'm not going to go as far as I can – that I'm still planning on backing out.

"Just my name?" I ask. "Don't you need my address or-"

"We already have your location sir," She says, in the same calm, professional tone.

I hang up.

.

What? What?!

All thoughts of "self termination" are far gone from my head. Instead my mind is filled with what can only be described as mindless panic. I lock my door, knowing that my room-mate will be home soon and will demand as to why I've locked him out. I peek out the window for a second and then draw the shade down. Then I sit on the edge of my bed and try not to shake.

What was that?

It's an elaborate ruse, isn't it? Or maybe she said it to scare me off. Of course only people who really didn't care enough to continue living wouldn't mind. It may have been an act of pity on her part, to try to make me realize what I would be losing. But I have realized, and thought about the alternative – and it's not much.

The boy that I love doesn't love me back. And he's a good friend of mine on top of it, who's always talking about the other person that he likes. Enough to make anyone lose it.

Sometimes I just wondered if I drove myself to the edge of death and back, would he pity me enough to love me? Even if it was fake, it's better than nothing, right?

Some people may say that isn't a reason enough to kill yourself, but to those people I say: it isn't you, you wouldn't understand. I know that it's stupid and irrational, but I've never been a strong person. And recently each and every disappointment is really wearing me down. I feel like screwing up my classes just to see what would happen – what would change. Nothing, probably.

My breathing is even again. I probably should be crying – most people cry at the thought of death, right? I used to. But recently I haven't been good at the whole crying thing. So I just wind the phone between my hands.

They mentioned a website, didn't they? Doctor Online?

My panic is gone, and my curiosity has returned. If this is a ruse or a prank I want to see how it plays out. Maybe what I want most is to stop myself. And maybe that will happen if I involve a third party.

So I turn on my beat-up labtop that's surviving by a combination of electric tape and assorted objects to prop its screen up, and find my search engine of choice.

Doctor Online.

It is a website. .Co, too. Tentatively, I move the mouse to hover over the link, hesitating before I click it. This is a cross-road – I'm sure that there will be more – an opportunity to back out.

I click the link.

Doctor Online – a fancy heading with pictures of smiling people dressed in typical medical garb – the one in the middle is wearing a surgical mask and is shadowed enough so that it's impossible to tell what he looks like. In one hand he's holding a scalpel – typically – and in the other a syringe. His coat is a whitish blue, like milk.

What kind of site is this? I wonder, searching it a bit. There's a FAQ.

Q: Is our decision reversible once an employee has been sent over?

A: Of course! Until you give the final consent, you can back out at any time. But remember, once you have verbally given the last answer in the affirmative, there will be no turning back.

Q: Can we choose who you send over? Can it be a cute girl?

I snort a bit, but continue reading anyway.

A: Unfortunately, no. We send whoever is available. But rest assured, that we know each and every one of you quite well, and I think that the match will be adequate.

What?

I scroll down a bit, quickly.

Q: How exactly do you "assist" your customers?

A: That's a good question, but unfortunately the answer is too complicated to describe in detail here. Please click the provided link for an explanation.

I click the link. It doesn't load.

There are a lot of Qs. The words swim in my head and my eyes water. I can't concentrate on large blocks of text like these, and return to the home page. There's also a brief Bio, which I read.

Doctor Online is a program created to assist people looking for an alternative to life, but who are either unable or unwilling to do it themselves. Confidential, discrete, and as safe as can be expected. Affiliated with 1-800-Suicide.

As safe as can be expected? Again, I snort. This website feels more like a joke. It helps me calm down; a sense of relief dulling the anxiety in my head. 1-800-Suicide was creepy and morbid because it wasn't. It was just a business, calm and unattached. Impossible to tell if the woman who answered actively cared whether or not I lived or died. It seems like this site is trying to put me at ease.

But given the subject matter, perhaps a joking tone is insensitive.

I click on some more links, looking for information that I can use.

Fill out the sheet and we will send someone over right away. Written consent is meaningless, however, so please make sure that you are verbally able to consent.

Again with the "verbal consent". That seems strange to me, but then all of this is weird. At this point I don't care much.

The form is simple:

Name: First only, please.

Preferred method of termination:

Would you like to be given an opportunity to be helped/talked out of your current goal? We can help you.

I roll my eyes. As if anyone who's come this far will back out now.

But then that's what I want myself to do, so I bite my lip and continue reading.

Phobias:

Any regrets that you may have? We're curious.

And that's it. There's no place for location or address or any form of contact. Just the first name.

I feel a bit safer filling out something like this via internet than phone. It will be really funny – I'll fill it out and then nothing will happen. My computer will probably get a virus and that will be it. The end.

I fill out the form, halfway in between a smirk and a grimace the whole time.

Phobias – do I have any? Yes, I'm afraid of veins. That sounds stupid. What method of death should I put?

I really just don't like how they look so fragile. I used to have a fear that if I pressed down on one hard enough it would burst and I would bleed to death internally.

Method of death: Anything that you want.

Phobias: Fear of veins.

I probably shouldn't have put both that and anything, should I? Oh, well, that doesn't matter.

You're probably waiting for me to realize: Shit, look at everything that I'd be missing. Nah.

So I finish with the form and submit it.

Thnks :) An employee will be sent to your exact location within the hour.

Despite my doubts, the hair rises on the back of my neck.

Shit, someone will be here to kill me? My room's a mess. There's a sock on the trash-can, and a bowl of half eaten cereal upside down on the carpet. My roommate’s favorite magazines are strewn across the floor.

I tidy up a bit. Don't want to look like a slob when I die, do I?

This is fucking ridiculous, I tell myself. Nobody is going to come. But it's comforting to have something to do, so I cling to it. I want to clean up. I want to make this room look nice. Suicide has nothing to do with me. Nothing is going to happen. I just want to clean up.

It's been fifteen minutes. Just when I'm thinking that I should lie down before I throw up, someone knocks at the door. My stomach does a flip.

Oh, it's my roommate. He wants in, of course, because I forgot to unlock it.

I open the door.

.

"Who the hell are you?" I croak.

"Charming," The man says. He steps inside without an invitation.

I can't really focus on his face. I suppose he's attractive – no, he is attractive. Very. Handsome, pretty, "ripped", small, lanky, petite, effeminate, the most masculine man I've ever seen. I don't know what he looks like. But I find him sexually appealing – that's all that I know. I couldn't tell you more than that I'm strangely drawn toward him.

His bangs are strewn across his face, and his eyes are trained on me. There is no color – they aren't white, but they aren't anything. I don't know – I can't focus. I'm going to throw up.

"You're Door Mat, are you?" The man asks, raising an eyebrow. He's staring at me in an incredulous kind of way, like I'm an annoying customer in a check-out-line.

I nod, my head swimming. My room is still too dirty. What if my roommate comes back? What's going to happen to me?

He sighs. "You really should be taking this more seriously, you know, Door Mat." He's carrying a silver suitcase, which he sets on the table. I wonder if there's a gun in it.

"How did you know where I lived?" I murmur, not knowing what else to say. He walks around me and opens the suitcase.

"You didn't read everything, did you?" He sounds annoyed. "Wonderful. Well, do you want to?"

I stare at him dumbly. "Want to what?"

"Want to die?" He trains his eyes on me. There's a shadow that flickers across his lips. "It's a yes or no question."

I think about it for exactly half a second. "Yes."

He looks as though he doesn't believe me, but doesn't press the subject. Instead he's laying out a few items from the suitcase. A gun – as I expected – a noose, a bottle of powerful painkillers, a box of razor blades.

"Given the nature of your lack of request," he says, half sarcastically, "It was a bit difficult to come prepared. If you choose drowning, car-crash, throwing yourself off a building, or anything that I haven't provided here, then tell me and we'll work something out."

I eye the painkillers. I've taken a bit too many before and it hurt. It really hurt, and that wasn't even enough to over-dose. Not lethally over-dose, anyway.

"I don't know," I say. "Hence the lack of request."

He smiles at me, somewhat thin lipped. "I see. Are you leaving the decision up to me, then?" I nod.

He takes a deep breath and then says in a sales-person voice, "This is a binding contract that you cannot back out from once you give the final consent-" That term again. "You will be given two additional opportunities to back out of your decision. I will not judge you in any way or form. If you do choose to back out, then it will be as though all of this," he taps his chest and simpers, "Never happened. And I can hook you up with the appropriate resources to ensure that you-"

I have to interrupt him or I really might back out. "-I don't care," I say, callously. "Please just hurry up. I think that I'm going to be sick."

"You poor thing," He says, in an identically cold tone. "I suppose ODing is out of the question then."

I glare at him but say nothing. After all, he is going to be my Grim Reaper so I might as well stay on his good side. Not that it matters, I suppose.

He's setting a few things around my room. I ask him what he's doing.

"Preparing the scene," He says. "It is supposed to be a suicide, after all."

Then something occurs to me. "Why are you doing this?" I ask. "I mean, how am I supposed to pay you? Nobody ever mentioned money."

He turns around from my cupboard, and gives me another thin – but attractive – smile. "Correct, nobody mentioned it." And then he wheels back around.

I stare at his back and try to concentrate on what is happening. That doesn't make much sense.

Maybe they do it for free? I tell myself. He could be someone who gets off on killing other people.

But he looks pissed at me, so that can't be it. He's acting like any other employee dealing with a less than helpful customer. Is that what this is? A business interaction? I still feel like it's a joke, that it's going to be over soon. Do I want to back out?

As if guessing my thoughts, when he finishes he returns to me. "This is your second to last chance to change your mind. You have a long life ahead of you that could be lived-"

"Save it," I say. The more people try to convince me to stay the more determined I feel to leave. Nothing that anyone says can make this life "appeal" to me more.

His expression does not change. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," I say, matching his eyes. For some reason that gives me a head-ache.

"Okay," The man says, and then he's out of my sight again. I think that he's going into the bathroom that me, my roommate, and the other two rooms adjacent to us share. While he's in there I decide to snoop through his suitcase.

There's nothing in there. It's oddly clean too; there aren't even any finger-prints on the gleaming metal surface. And it makes me feel wrong to be near it – like I shouldn't be here. So I push it away and swallow repetitively to keep my bile down.

When he comes back he seems to be in a better mood. His actions are less rushed. I wonder if he did something in there to "pick him up". It's none of my business, I guess. I'm the last person who should be lecturing about harming your body.

"Right then," he says. "We're getting to the last part. The last statement. Are you aware of what is about to happen? Fully aware?" I nod. He scowls. "We require verbal consent," he says.

That annoys me. "And what if I don't want to say it? Why does it have to be verbal, anyway?"

"If you don't say it, then I will take that as a no and leave. This isn't a game, kid, think about what you're doing."

Kid? I match his scowl. "Yes, then. Yes."

He continues as though I had never interrupted. "And do you have anything to say? Is there anything that you want me to explain to you that will make what is about to happen more clear?"

"No and no," I say. Why should it matter what he does?

"It will look like a suicide to everyone," He tells me. That registers strangely. Why wouldn't it look like a suicide?

"What did you put in my room?" I ask, wondering why I care. I feel very very emotionally detached right now, from everything. Someone could die in front of me and my empathy wouldn't spike. It's strange – death-like, so I embrace it.

"Preparation," He reminds me. His eyes suddenly look odd to me, but since I still cannot register them as a shape or color, I cannot tell what it is.

"Do you want any religious-" He begins, and I laugh, which makes him stop. "I can understand that," He says, with the closest to a smile I have seen on him. It makes my head hurt. "Your real name is Mathias, is it?" He says. I don't remember him moving but suddenly he's right in front of me. I wish that I could say something cliché like his breath smelled sweet or like peppermint but I honestly couldn't tell anything.

"Yes," I say.

He nods. "Are you sure that you want to die, Mathias? This is your last chance."

This is your last chance. That resonates with me. I suppose, all throughout my life, I just wanted somebody to stop me. To tell me not to. Someone real. Someone whose opinion I cared about.

"What do you think?"

So I ask him, and I'm honestly curious as to what his response will be.

"Officially my opinion is neither here nor there," He says, and his lip twitches.

"Unofficially?" I press. Hell, if I'm going to die I might as well get as much out of this guy as I can. I did mention that I find him attractive, and I don't feel like letting that go easily. It's quite stupid to think this now, though.

His eyes are boring into me. Again, I feel a sense of something being wrong. "Unofficially, I don't really care," He says. "But if you truly want to die, then I'll help you. That's what I'm here for."

I let out the breath that I was saving. That wasn't exactly what I hoped to hear.

"Yes," I say. "Yes I want to die, yes you can help me, yes to whatever other questions you want to ask."

He leans forward slightly. "You do realize that after this point all of your pleas-" an odd choice of word, I think, "-and attempts at breaking the appointment will be ignored? Let me rephrase that for you: from this moment on, there is nothing that you can do or say to undo what will happen. You will be dead from this moment on if you agree. So what do you think, Mathias? Do you want to die?"

My skin crawls.

"Yes."

There, I said it. A huge weight has been taken off my shoulders. But I still feel like throwing up.

He smiles and taps his hand against the wall. "Consent registered."

"How exactly is this going to work?" I ask. "I probably should have asked this earlier, but you know, I was busy."

The man raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. He looks amused now and not irritated any longer. And he doesn't answer my question – I suppose from this moment on he is no longer obligated to.

There's a glimmer in the light – its a razor, in his hand. I feel a wave of revulsion for a moment. "Do you have to use that?" I ask, thinking of my fragile veins and the sensation of bleeding out. It seems uncomfortable.

"Why?" He asks. "Do you have a fear of veins, maybe?" And he chuckles slightly to himself.

"What do I have to do?" My heart is pounding horribly in my chest.

"Just stand still," My savior says, and suddenly he has my wrist in his hand.

In one swift motion he throws me forward, onto the floor. I'm on my back, momentarily stunned and unable to move. In that one moment he lunges forward and takes me by the hand. His touch is surprisingly gentle, I think, and then it isn't. His grip tightens on my hand, and he presses the razor to his lips for a moment.

I expect him to say something, but he doesn't. No phrase, no good-bye, nothing at all.

He slices the razor to the left, abruptly. It takes a second, but there's a sliver of blood. It doesn't stop when I expect it to. And it stings.

"W-Wait," I try to say.

He ignores me. His iron grip now tightens over my other hand. I don't even try to struggle – I don't want to struggle. Another slash of pain and the sensation is doubled.

My head hurts, and I feel dizzy. Nauseous, too. The tang of iron fills the air and I squirm on the floor, pressing my now free right hand against my left wrist. It's deep, flowing enough that even I know that this is the end. It's over. I only have a few moments left.

The man is closing the suitcase. He taps me on the head.

"You were a good match, Mathias, even if you think that we weren't." He says. "The Company doesn't make mistakes. You and your kind might, but we don't." He grips me by the hair and pulls my head backward. The same horrible sensation of wrong rushes through me when I meet his indescribable gaze.

"I'll be seeing you downstairs," He says, and draws the razor across my throat.

[spacecadetspe]

Oct. 8, 2024

There's too much total chaos to put into a single post, but I'll do my best. I hate that I've gone two more weeks without posting, but it's taken me that long to reach a point where I have the time and mental capacity to do anything.

W's birthday was October 1st. I have been trying to dutifully keep up with X about it, making sure I know where and when the party is, along with semi-gentle reminders to get the birthday invitations distributed in a timely manner. His party was the last weekend in September.

W, for his part, was a good sport about it all. He introduced me to someone he calls "Nana," supposedly someone else on K's estranged side of the family, via FaceTime. Neither of us was expecting the other on the call, but it was pleasant enough for an initial introduction. But I was really surprised when Nana showed up at the birthday party. She and her husband, who W refers to as "Grumps," live in the Florida panhandle, and rushed up to attend this little boy's birthday party.

Then I found out why. X had not distributed the children's invitations until the Thursday prior to the party, and only two of W's friends RSVPed that they would be attending. X had empty seats to fill, and K's family and his own estranged sisters filled in the gaps. He explained it to me, hoping I would be kind and let it go, but I knew exactly what needed to be said in the moment.

"You are not allowed to give me shit for planning stuff at the last minute ever again." Short, sweet, and to-the-point. Not enough to verbally castrate him in public, but enough to stand up for myself and tell him I hadn't forgotten about the bullshit he pulled last year.

He conceded with a nod. "Fair enough," he mumbled.

It was an awkward party. There was almost no adult socializing, except with one of the moms of the two kids who attended. She was a lovely mom of four, and we had a great conversation. Everyone else exchanged meaningless pleasantries and then quietly kept to their individual tables.

But I was there for my kid, and he was happy.

That week, we had another visitor show up in the Dream World: a primordial entity, child of Chaos, who refused to tell us his name except in a warped dialect of Astral. Luckily, one of Pasithea's suitors, Matarajin, recognized him. Saisei Kizen, the embodiment of rebirth. Saisei Kizen came to the Dream World in search of the keys Erebus had left behind (but I don't know where they are). He called our world "an affront to the natural order," but refused to elaborate. He just kept insulting us and being destructive. He brought with him an army of yokai, many of which I am still corralling and occasionally dispatching.

I didn't want to kill the embodiment of rebirth, so for the time being, I put him to sleep. But even with him out cold, the stress in the waking world kept mounting. Stress at work, depression at home, and little time to do anything but sleep and eat. And then he woke up. It took Ingrid, me, and both our Epithet Weapons to subdue Saisei Kizen in his deluded state, and even afterwards I could feel the trigger of the last ten years bare its ugly head.

Delusion. I felt despair sink over me, crushing me into the floor. Delusion means they don't care for anything except an echo chamber. Not me, not you; only themselves and their vision of perfection. Something that nearly killed me, and seemed to be cropping up everywhere I looked.

My places of work. My home. My family. I couldn't shake it.

I fled back to the Nekromanteion in search of Panos. But would it be enough? No matter what kind of pain he dealt me, I had to get rid of this pressure inside me, and I didn't know who else to trust.

And then it hit me, and I cried out for help. "Michael."

He was there in an instant, cradling my head in his lap and pouring that harsh holy light into me. He stayed with me while the dream spirits tried to process me. I don't know how well that worked; I'm still having nightmares. Maybe it's just cleaning up and putting out the last few of the fires.

I took Monday off to go to an interview (Praise Mother) and take my dog to the vet. I had intended to go to lessons afterwards, but the vet discovered a mass under her jaw and we had to stay. The stress of thinking about how everything piled up against me was so great that I burst into tears while on the phone with the School's receptionist.

She was lovely, though, and rescheduled all my students but one, who I will see Thursday.

I went home and collapsed in Fortitude's arms, and it was the best thing I could've done.

[daedalusdavinci]

ao3 wrapped 2023

taken from here. i did this last year and it was fun so im doing it again

1. How many words have you written this year?

i published 110,143 words this year! written...... no clue.

the first half of this year was mostly spent working on the jdau, but the second half was mostly spent on working on oc stuff that i dont post anywhere. i have no way of tracking how much i wrote for that bc this year i shifted all of my oc works from google docs to saved files on my computer, so the dates are all fucking wrong. ; ; if you add that mystery number onto the mystery number of scrapped projects and wips..... theres no telling. theres no telling.

2. How many works did you publish this year?

i posted 12 works on ao3 this year, not counting the fics i rewrote. i posted 9 drabbles on tumblr. this wasnt a great drabble year for me, i think.

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

i like the afterlife drabble i wrote about jason and nico. i feel like every time i write about them theres just something so bittersweet and punchy about it. it was a cool idea that kind of leaves me thinking about the world behind it, but not in a way that needs to be elaborated on.

as far as fics psoted on ao3, maybe under the skin? its such a different dynamic, and the tension is drawn so taut, it walks the line perfectly between violence/hatred and grief/love. its one im always second guessing myself about, but i had so much fun with it, sometimes i just have to remind myself its okay to make things just for the sake of exploration/indulgence.

4. What work of yours has the most hits?

snow day, with about 1k hits. i think thats the fic where a lot of people stop reading the jdau. its short, its fluffy, and i do actually still love this one a lot. i wrote it when i needed it.

5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

i feel like a lot of my drabbles this year were really weak, so ive been surprised by the number of notes some of them have gotten. otherwise, mostly oc stuff? ive always struggled with sharing original content bc it never feels interesting enough, but the few friends i have shared it with have been so supportive and it means everything. @roomfulloferidans and @ashysiashy especially are always encouraging me and motivating me to keep making more, and i mightve given it up a long time ago otherwise tbh

6. Favorite title you used

oh thats gotta be The Family Disappointment actually. i like how much meaning and interpretation is embedded in it. if youve been reading the jdau, you might think its jason, but seeing that the fic centers damian, you might think its him. both boys struggle with feeling like theyre bruces biggest disappointment, but the fic is about brotherly solidarity, and recognizing that maybe bruce is actually the disappointment.

honorary mention to under the skin, bc i think that one was very funny/clever. i also named some oc works "the debilitating fear of garage doors" and "the inherent eroticism of handholding" and i like those a lot.

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

its a fucking miracle. for once, i didnt use any.

8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?

i guarantee it was bruharv again. bc the jdau. ive finally finished it tho, so who knows what the next will be?? the world is full of possibility.

9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?

im going to be so real w you. my ocs. their dynamic is so much fucking fun.

10. What work was the quickest to write?

i guarantee it was one of the drabbles. altho i did spend much more time agonizing over them this year

11. What work took you the longest to write?

the jdau. but specifically, im sure it was retirement, bc that one is the longest by miles.

12. How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year?

one!!! im working on a hs fic for the first time in ages, tho i dont have all of my plans for it 100% solid yet. ive got threeish chapters written tho, so i think i will end up finishing it. ill probably start another wip soon so i dont contaminate this one w the urge to write nonsensical fluff.

13. What’s your longest work of the year?

its retirement. its definitely retirement. its 46k and everythign else doesnt really pass 10k

14. What’s your shortest work of the year?

one of the drabbles. on ao3, its off book.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

the aforementioned. its davesprite centric and so far its a lot about family and growing up.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

probably “Harvey Dent Adopts Jason Todd” again. god im so glad im done w that au

17. Your favorite character to write this year?

my ocs. otherwise, im going to say 2f bc he is so babygirl to me w his sexy trauma and anger issues, and rose, bc rose <33333333

18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?

bruce fucking again i hate writing him so much its unreal hes barely even a person to me hes been written so many different ways so many different times the source material is basically a suggestion and i HATE IT. also, nepeta. i cant get her voice right and its killing me and i refuse to write in pesterlog format im NOT DOING IT

19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?

eridve baby im coming home <333333 (<- insane) but probably also a lot of hal ships eventually

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

i have reread the jdau so many fucking times reviewing for the next chapter its fukcing unreal and insanity inducing. if i reread it any more im going to start hating it

21. How many kudos in total did you get this year?

772. this feels liek nothing compared to last year but its so much compared to the previous years so i think im doing good and last year was just a fluke

22. Which work has the most comments?

snow day w 7 comments, which tracks, bc it also has the most hits.

23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?

nope! not this year

24. Did you write any gifts this year?

most of my drabbles were requests, and i definitely wrote some fics w specific ppl in mind, namely @roomfulloferidans (Calming a Storm) and @ashysiashy (some oc stuff), but i didnt technically tag any gifts on ao3 this year

25. Did you receive any gifts this year?

nope! im kind of the writer of my friend group so fics are not generally smthn i receive. however, trustymikh drew this drawing inspired by my mermay bruharv drawing inspired by their mermay harvey drawing, so maybe that kind of counts?? i was delighted to see my bruce design in their style, at least. @roomfulloferidans drew a very nice drawing of my oc rogue that i cherish, @mudp1es and another friend of mine drew our spidersonas, and i participated in an oc art trade where another friend drew my oc barbie. i think those count as gifts, even if its not Ao3 Gifts(TM)

26. What’s your most common category?

M/M again bc i think its hot when men

27. What do you listen to while writing?

i tend to just loop playlists or single songs, unless im really struggling to concentrate, in which case ill switch to white noise.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

my oc fic, the inherent eroticism of handholding, which im 99% sure i did write this year? it captures a very specific kind of uncertain tenderness where a crush is new and theyre feeling out flirting still. i think about the scene where theyre lying together in the dark while everyone sleeps and holding hands for a reason they cant justify, not looking at each other, talking about nothing, all the time. i also rlly like the oc fic i just finished a lot- domestic(ated).

that i published, i guess under the skin for reasons i already talked about.

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

im just gonna collect a few here, bc its hard to pick when i write so goddamn much:

Two Face hesitated. Carefully, he asked, “Do you think they want to get rid of you?” Jason’s eyes flickered away from him, his mouth opening, and then closing. “Yeah?” he said, finally. He sounded unsure.

Water dripped from Two Face's curls and slid off of his nose, spattering against the symbol on Bruce's chest. He found himself blinking hard, his breathing coming fast and tight. "You told me- You were supposed to be- Not even in death. Not even in death, would you have ever told me."

The Backroad Home

Eridan kissed like a fire slowly burning him from the inside out. He tasted like liquid courage and saltwater spray, sticky sweet like taffy the way he stuck in Dave's chest. His hands left scorched trails behind when they slid over Dave's skin, haunting, dizzying, warm like the inside of his mouth.

Calming a Storm

back when he and Bruce had lived so deep in each other’s pockets that the line between his and mine had vanished.

To Late Bruce Wayne

For a while, Two Face just let the breeze wash over him, ruffling his hair as his skin prickled from the chill. A siren blared somewhere in the distance, and he sucked sauce absently from his thumb, setting aside the tupperware. “I care deeply about this city,” the TV crackled. “That’s why I’m donating-” Two Face tucked a cigarette between his lips, pulling his lighter out of his pocket. There was a ritual to it. The slow inhale, the gradual exhale. The wind pulled the smoke from his lips, and it disappeared over the rooftops. Bruce’s laugh washed over Two Face. It was vapid and fake over the airwaves, but the memory of it rattled around Two Face’s chest, warm and startled as they rolled in the sheets in Bruce’s dorm. Longing took hold and ached.

Under the Skin. there are a lot of great lines from this one, but this may be my favorite

Spectre's chin bumped gently against Rogue's shoulder, inches left between them, and Rogue thought about how easy it was to steal things in the dark. "Tell me about something," Spectre whispered. "Anything. And I'll sleep."

the inherent eroticism of handholding. this whole fic was very quoteable and so is Domestic(ated) but i will make this my single oc quote.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

that people would like my ocs, really. moth tenderly cares for them like real blorbos and i still dont really know how to process that

[vulpixelates]

@actionsurges replied to your post “i am so glad that i've finally found the perfect...”:

oo what's ur method?

i'm a little more lowkey for one-on-one games but for group games: during the actual game i take handwritten notes on my ipad as we go, keeping track of important names and the in-game date and quickly jotting down reminders. after it's over, i type up those notes in a doc and add a "next session" area to the bottom of that day's notes to remind myself of what we planned to do next (both short and long term, usually). then, i'll take the important stuff and port that over to the group-shared spreadsheet (i will elaborate on this later). the multiple steps really assures that it stays in my brain, and taking notes after the game helps me add more detail than i'm able to do while frantically scribbling as the game goes on.

but! the real sorting magic comes in during the typing phase. i've been battling w all sorts of ways to make specific info stick out - originally i took all of my ttrpg notes w physical pens and paper and would just underline things, then once i was doing it digitally i would make it bold, but simply boldness doesn't tell you what TYPE of information you're looking at while you're scrolling through 30 pages of notes. THE SOLUTION:

A HIGHLIGHT KEY. i know what color i'm looking for and can find it super easily within the chunks of text. it makes it super easy to move over items to my inventory, keep track of when we got quests + updates on those quests, etc. and all the people/places can get added to the spreadsheet without fuss. it's such a small thing but it's truly a game changer.

for the spreadsheet: this is something i recommend for everyone because it has made it SO FUCKING EASY to everyone in the group to keep up with information, including the DM so she doesn't even have to take her own notes and can just focus on making the magic happen.

it has multiple tabs for basic stuff (npcs, locations, factions) and then one for quests and one for "problems," like stuff that's character-specific or maybe not big enough to count as a whole quest but that we should definitely remember. (this one was the occultist who keeps cursing herself's idea and it's been very useful so far oiajfeoiajwef) the npcs tab has a section for the in-game and irl dates and the locations where we came across specific characters which is very helpful for remembering timelines when you've been playing in real life for over a year but in-game it's been like a month. this would probably be a good idea to add to quests/problems too but eh. it's so far into the game that i'd have to edit them all in and i truly do not want to do that no matter how much i enjoy this system lol

[fitzrove]

Fics I want to write & have in some cases already promised various people to write, but didn't manage to because of my thesis (which is now finished, btw >:D). I know I don't often talk about my fics in specific terms on here (and I'm a bit afraid of boring people with them) so I'm putting everything under the cut for convenient scrolling past.

Elisabeth

- Todolf modern ballet au. This one is more self-indulgent than anything I've had requested, but I love it a lot and am excited to write it. Multichapter fic w worldbuilding and a clear plot/arc. ;) I want to write it this spring.

- Mirrorverse Todolf one-shot, smutty. And evil. 2nd in the priority list.

- A Rudolf (Elisabeth) x Meissner (Affaire Mayerling) fic. "Canon-compliant" with excessive amounts of historical detail drawn from the real-life counterparts' lives... and smut. 1st in the priority list.

- Todolf modern au where Rudolf is a lawyer in his dad's sinking ship firm. I wrote a one-shot of this, it was my first Elisabeth fic, and might write more because I have nice ideas. Vignettes with an overarching symbolic narrative. Cuddles.

- A Tod x FJ fic inspired by the improvements I constantly suggest productions make to Nur kein genieren. This spring or summer.

- LUCHENI X TOD LONG(ISH)FIC. Backstory-focused, Lucheni-centric. Again with excessive historical context. >:DDDDD I want to write it this spring or summer...

- Modern au todolfcheni (yes) where they are roommates fjkdkfkf. Mostly a joke idea... unless...

- Jesper!Rudolf and Máté!Tod... being themselves...

Tanz der Vampire

- An Elisabeth Brussels fic (mortdolphe slowburn). Might be a long way off because it'd be emotionally rough, worldbuilding-heavy and time-consuming to write.

- A Schönbrunn-inspired fic. Won't elaborate XD Would be short - this spring.

- Misc other tod/rudolf ideas

- Sarah/Alfred post tdv fic, smutty. I want to write it this spring. Maybe as a treat for finishing my video essay.

- ... Alfred/Raoul fic accompaniment to a Sarah/Christine fic my friend wrote, risqué if not outright smutty

- I'd love to write a longer post-tdv Sarah/Alfred fic about them exploring the world and such because all the amazing ones on ao3 are UNFINISHED. But it'd require a lot of planning that I haven't done yet

Rebecca

- Ich x Rebecca's ghost. I jokingly said "if I ever wrote a Rebecca fic it would be..." but now the idea won't leave my brain. Maybe this spring after I've seen Rebecca? It'll be short.

If I've promised other fics to anyone reading, please remind me ajfkdkjfdk. Rn the ones taking highest priority are the ballet au for self-indulgent reasons, the Meissner fic and Mirrorverse. And the Lucheni fic is tickling my brain too.

Update 13.1.23: the "this spring" stuff might or might not get pushed back by my tdv video essay depending on when I have the finished audio track and can start editing. We'll see :D

[headcanonsandmore]

Gentry and Gentlemen,  Chapter One

Summary:  Hermione Granger has just begun a new position of governess at Ottery Manor in the Devon Countryside, a world away from her upbringing in Regency-era London. There she meets a redheaded blacksmith man named Ron Weasley. Sparks may just fly between the middle class city woman and the working-class country man with a genuine and heartfelt charm all his own. (Jane Austen Romione AU)

Tagging: @hillnerd @nagemeikenu @acnelli @aimless-twig @femaledoubleagent @thehufflepuffpixie @adenei @abradystrix

~~~~~~~~~~

                   Read on FFN.                                      Read on AO3.

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The Regency period is full of stories about dashing military officers and their lovers, titled men and women, and the romantic misadventures of the landed gentry. Almost always of young ladies of the gentry and their aristocratic suitors. Of money, land, and upper class goings-on. The sort of stories that have become synonymous with high romance, retold countless times since.

This is not one of those stories.

 *

 The stagecoach trundled along the country lane. It was the middle of April, and the Devon countryside was quickly losing any vestiges of the winter. Trees were growing green, bees were pollinating all manner of plants, and the lane was fast becoming dusty due to the lack of rain.

‘Oh, really, good sir!’ giggled a lady, her aristocratic manner evident in her voice. ‘You are a delight!’

‘My pleasure, good lady,’ replied the gentleman, a large tall man with a similar way of speaking. ‘I find myself inclined to be such when in the company of such an amiable person as yourself.’

There was a loud crack, as one of the stagecoach wheels hit a hole in the lane.

‘My apologies, ladies and gentlemen!’ exclaimed the coachman from above. ‘The roads have not been repaired after the winter rains!’

‘You’d think the locals would have done something about it,’ complained the gentleman to his lady friend. ‘But I suppose that is to be expected of being so far out from respectable society.’

The woman sat across from the couple stared out of the window, a slight frown briefly appearing on her face. Her fellow passengers did not notice this, and had made no attempt at conversation with her for the entire journey from Exeter. But she was somewhat glad of that.

She was a young woman, in her mid-twenties and, unlike the pair sat across from her, was not wearing the latest fashions of aristocratic society. Her dress was well-worn but functional, as befitted her position. Her hat was smart was simple but sturdy. Her face was impassive, yet strong, and her eyes - a dark brown- were piercingly intelligent. A parasol, far from new, was placed sensibly across her lap. Her shoes, polished but faded from use, were the sort worn by practical working women since time immemorial. However, in contrast to all this was her hair; an enormous bushy mane that strained against the many pins she had used to keep it in place. It was the sort of hair that you couldn’t help but notice, and it was perhaps for that reason that the young lady had chosen to keep her hat on in the coach despite the heat.  

‘Final stop; Ottery St Catchpole!’

The coach trundled to a halt, and the coachman (whose name was Mr Jones) climbed down, pulling the small set of steps out from under the coach door. The gentleman helped his lady companion down, and the two of them sauntered away with their bags without so much as a thank you to the coachman.

Sighing to himself, the coachman turned.

‘Er… my apologies, Mr Jones,’ came a voice from within the coach. ‘Could you help me down, please?’

‘Of course, miss,’ he said, before helping the young lady down to the ground. ‘Allow me to help you with your bags as well.’

‘Thank you.’

As the coachman pulled her bags out from the luggage racks, the young lady stared down the street. The gentleman and his lady friend were laughing loudly to themselves outside one of the shops.

‘They were awfully rude, weren’t they?’

‘Afraid so, Miss,’ replied Mr Jones. ‘Many from London feel that Devon might as well be on another planet.’

‘I hope you won’t judge me by their behaviour.’

‘Oh, of course not, Miss…er… my apologies, my memory isn’t what it once was…’

‘Granger.’ Hermione Granger said, giving a small curtsy. ‘And thank you for keeping me company on such a pleasant journey, Mr Jones.’

‘My pleasure, Miss Granger,’  Mr Jones said, tipping his cap. ‘I’m surprised that such a pleasant young lady like yourself is travelling all alone, truth be told.’

‘Well, you see, I’m on my way to a new place of employment.’ Hermione said. ‘Ottery Manor; perhaps you know it?’

‘Oh, yeah, Miss. Very prominent local gentry.’

‘I am due to take up the post of governess for the young children,’ Hermione elaborated.  

‘A governess, you say?’ Mr Jones said, looking very surprised.

‘Yes, I recently achieved my qualification, you see.’

‘Very impressive, Miss. Er… just a word of warning, if you please?’

‘Whatever for?’

‘Well…’ Mr Jones looked rather uncomfortable. ‘You are… that is…’

Hermione sighed. She had been expecting this.

‘Mr Jones, I am well aware that the colour of my skin is perhaps not what the locals are used to.’

‘Oh, no, miss; that’s not what I meant!’ Mr Jones replied, shaking his head quickly. ‘Good gracious, no! Plymouth isn’t that far away, and we’re used to seeing people from all over the world popping through. It’s just… the gentry round here… aren’t quite so relaxed about it as the ordinary people are.’

Hermione smiled. Mr Jones was a sweet old man who clearly wanted to warn her as best he could, even if he didn’t quite have the terminology correct.

‘Thank you, Mr Jones; you are very kind.’

‘My pleasure, miss.’

‘Could you… point me in the direction of the manor house?’

Mr Jones nodded, pointing along up the narrow winding street of Ottery St Catchpole.

‘You can’t miss it; the big house on the hill.’

‘Thank you.’

As Hermione made her way through the main street, she was aware of just how much of a different world this was to London, where she had lived most of her life. For one thing, people walked far slower and had a relaxed attitude in their comings and goings. One could certainly tell that the pace of life was slower.

Within a few minutes, Hermione had left the village, and headed along the country road up towards the manor house. The lack of rain had meant that dust was virtually inescapable, but Hermione preferred it to the mud she had been concerned about. She wouldn’t have wanted to make a first appearance with her best clothes dirtied. That would be most distressing. She, after all, was being entrusted with the care of the children of the local landed family, and ought to be presentable in a way that acknowledged that responsibility she was being granted.

Her stomach began to squirm, as her nerves became agitated. She had largely avoided thinking too much about it when she was travelling but, now that she was so close to the manor, she couldn’t help worrying. What if she wasn’t qualified for this? What if the other staff members didn’t like her? What if she-

‘NEIIIIIGHHHH!’

Hermione’s thoughts were suddenly interrupted, as a large horse rounded the corner of the lane, galloping as fast as it could, and heading right towards her. It was tall, brown, and looked startled, its eyes wide.

Hermione’s bags slipped from her hands as she stumbled backwards, but the horse was already barely seven feet away. With a cry, Hermione tripped over the uneven ground, her hat flying off her head.

The horse reared up on its hind legs, and Hermione found herself frozen on the ground. Hoofs began to fall.

‘WHOOOAAA!’

Suddenly, the horse was no longer there.

Coming to her senses, Hermione pulled herself to her feet, and collected her bags together.

A man, roughly her age, was stood with the horse a few feet away. The first thing of notice was his height, at least a foot taller than Hermione. His head was framed with short, red hair. Freckles covered every inch of skin that was on show. He was wearing a rough work shirt that was tied up to his elbows, and a pair of trousers that were slightly too short on him. A pair of tough work boots, that had clearly seen better days, completed the ensemble.

‘Sssshhhhh, Tiff….’ He soothed, stroking the horse’s neck slowly. ‘It’s okay, girl… no-one’s going to hurt you…’

‘Good grief!’

Another man had joined him.

‘Good thing you’re such a fast runner, mate!’

‘I try my best,’ replied the redheaded man. ‘Good thing we managed to catch her before she reached the village.’

As the horse was led away by the other man, the redhead turned and, spotting Hermione, ran forward.

‘Miss, are you alright?’ he exclaimed, coming to a stop in front of her. There was a splodge of dirt on his long nose. ‘Tiffany got spooked earlier, and we only just caught up with her. I’m so sorry; are you hurt?’

‘I’m… I’m fine, thank you,’ Hermione said, as a pair of bright blue eyes stared down at her. ‘Although I think my hat must have blown away in the wind.’

The redhead man looked around, and pointed up into the branches of a nearby tree.

‘You mean that one, with the nice bow?’

‘Yes, but-’

The man was up the tree in a flash, and was soon leaping down next to her again, holding her hat.

‘There we go,’ he said, handing it over. ‘Maybe a little dusty, but that’s the heatwave for you.’

‘Thank you,’ Hermione said, placing the hat on top of her bushy hair. The two of them began to walk up the lane. ‘I appreciate your concern, Mr…’

‘Weasley,’ the redhead said, smiling. ‘But there’s enough of the Weasleys around here, so you can just call me Ron. Everyone else does; it’d be confusing otherwise.’

‘I… I don’t think that would be appropriate.’ Hermione said, as she bent down to pick up her bags.

‘Why? We’re all people, aren’t we?’ Mr Weasley replied. ‘Oh, let me help you.’

‘Yes, but I’m…’ Hermione stammered, as her load was lightened considerably. ‘Well, I’m starting at the Manor as the new governess.’

‘Oh, you’re the teacher everyone’s been gossiping about!’ Ron said, cheerily. ‘Miss… Granger, if my memory’s correct?

‘W-why, yes!’ Hermione exclaimed, suddenly feeling rather embarrassed. ‘Er…gossip, you say?’

‘Yes; the scullery-maids have been talking about nothing else for the past week,’ Mr Weasley replied, keenly. ‘Well, that and the summer fete. But, yes; a posh lady governess from up-country coming down to our little neck of the woods! They’ll be delighted to meet you!’

Hermione felt her cheeks flush.

‘I’m not nearly as posh as all that, Mr Weasley,’ she said, primly. ‘So I hope I don’t ruin their expectations when they see me.’

‘Why? You sound posh to me.’

‘No… I… I mean… well, look at me.’

The redhead stared at her in confusion, and Hermione felt she needed to elaborate.

‘Surely they were expecting someone less… exotic?’

Mr Weasley blinked.

‘You are from London, aren’t you? That’s pretty exotic.’

Hermione found herself suddenly laughing. Not the usual polite laughs she had been taught as a girl, but a full, unrestrained laugh, full of accompanying snorts.

‘London… exotic?!’

Mr Weasley grinned at her, his cheeks dimpling under his freckles.

‘If you’re born and raised in Devon, it is,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘Besides, I bet that’s the first time you’ve laughed in a good long while.’

‘Why… yes, it is,’ Hermione replied, smiling. ‘However could you tell?’

‘I hear tell of the aristo’s who take the stagecoach routes down from London. I gather they aren’t much in the way of humorous conversation?’

‘You would be correct about that. But where do you hear that from? Mr Jones the coachman?’

‘Old Jonesey? Oh, yes; lovely old soul. I’m the… well, the blacksmith and the odd-job man for the estate, so I’m in and out of the village a lot.’

Hermione nodded, trying not to notice how well the redheads shirt seemed to fit him. She supposed blacksmiths were all rather… muscley.

Ottery Manor stretched out before them. It was a double-storied building, with fine windows and a pair of thick oak doors. The house was arranged around a central courtyard, so that two wings of the house stretched out in front. A small fountain marked the middle of the courtyard, and the centre of the house was covered in fine ivy. Grounds stretched out around the house in all directions, full of trees and well-trimmed lawns. Hermione could make out some distant greenhouses and vegetable gardens on the periphery.  

‘You like the ivy?’ Mr Weasley enquired, pointing at the plant as they walked up the main pathway towards the house. ‘Me and my brother Bill -he works in the gardens- pruned them just last week; rather a nice effect, eh?’

‘Yes,’ Hermione replied. ‘Are all your siblings employed as members of staff here?’

‘No.’ the redhead said. ‘Percy -he’s the intellectual one- he works in Plymouth in an office. Fred and George -they’re the youngest brothers aside from me- work in the post office a few villages over.’

‘Any sisters?’

‘Just Ginny. She’s the youngest. Mum did want her to get a good job as a scullery maid, but Ginny’s always been more outdoorsy. She works in the gardens most of the time, but she sometimes helps me and Charlie in the forge.’

‘Charlie is… the main blacksmith aside from you, then?’

Mr Weasley laughed.

‘Yes, he’s always been good with animals, so he handles the shoe-fitting. I’m a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, myself; that’s why I’m the odd job man as well.’

‘There is nothing wrong with being multi-skilled,’ Hermione said, earnestly. ‘Most men in London would love to have a wide array of talents.’

Mr Weasley laughed again, his cheeks dimpling again.

By this point, they had reached the courtyard but, instead of heading for the front door, Mr Weasley lead her around one wing of the house and into a yard of sorts. Hermione could hear horses neighing nearby, and presumed that the stables weren’t that far away.

‘You’d best come through the servants entrance,’ Mr Weasley said, leading her up the rear side of the wing and stopping before a door, which was left open. ‘Not a good idea to get on the bad side of the footmen on your first day. Especially the head footman; he’s a right killjoy about these things.’

‘Well, I am a servant, technically.’

‘I know,’ Mr Weasley said, sighing. ‘But, if I had my way, we wouldn’t have to worry about separate entrances. We’re the people who actually keep this place going, not the aristo’s using this place like a retreat for when the season ends in London.’

Hermione felt rather shocked at Mr Weasley’s words, but she opted not to say anything. She could certainly understand his frustration, but she had never met someone who was so open about it.

‘The gentry often have friends and relatives down from London, then?’

‘Yes, but you probably won’t have to worry about them,’ Mr Weasley said, encouragingly. ‘They tend to stay away from the children if they can help it. This time of year, most of them are living the high life in London society; they shouldn’t be arriving here for another couple months.’

‘Well, I lived in London most of my life, but I already rather like it here in Devon.’

The redhead turned to look at her.

‘Really? Why?’

‘Well, judging from what I’ve seen so far, it’s quieter, for one thing. The pace of life in the city is far too extreme. Out here, you can hear the birds in the trees, see the bees in the hedgerows, smell the…’

‘Muck on the fields?’

Hermione laughed.

‘You’re very amusing, Mr Weasley.’

‘I try,’ the redhead said, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. ‘Not very often I get the opportunity to make a woman laugh without making a prat of myself first.’

‘Oh, I-I’m sure all the local girls adore you.’

‘With five older brothers? I barely get a look in,’ Mr Weasley chuckled, his ears going a little pink. ‘But, thank you, miss.’

‘My… my pleasure, Mr Weasley.’

‘Mr Weasley, I trust you haven’t been frightening the new governess.’

A man had stepped out from the servants entrance. Judging by his dress, he was a footman of some description. His hair was surprisingly greasy, and he had a long, hooked nose. His voice gave an indication that he had taken elocution lessons to disguise a midlands accent.

‘Oh, no, sir!’ Hermione exclaimed, as the two of them deposited her bags near the door. ‘Mr Weasley came to my assistance when my hat blew astray on the front drive.’

Mr Weasley grinned at the footman.

‘Wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t do so, sir.’

‘Mr Weasley… you are not a gentleman, and never will be. You are a commoner, and you would do well to remember it,’ the footman said, looking unkindly up at Ron over his long hooked nose. ‘Now, Miss Granger, if you would accompany me this way…’

As Hermione followed the footman, she happened to look back over her shoulder. Mr Weasley caught her eye, and mouthed “what an oily-haired git, eh?”. Hermione bit down on her lower lip to stop herself laughing.

 *

 On reflection, Hermione was rather embarrassed that she’d been so nervous about her first meeting with her employers. The lord of the manor seemed disinterested the entire time, while his wife asked a few questions about Hermione’s teaching qualification. In fact, Hermione spent most of the meeting nodding politely while the lady discussed the difficulty in finding a good governess in the local area, and that they appreciated that Hermione had come such a long way.

She was then escorted by the head footman back to the servants entrance, all the while wondering if all lords and ladies were so… underwhelming as people.

‘Thank you, but where should I-’

But the footman had already walked away.

Hermione looked around, her nerves building again. She didn’t know her way around, and she hadn’t even been told where her lodgings would be. Maybe she should-

‘All finished?’

Mr Weasley had poked his head through the door.

‘Y-yes,’ Hermione said. ‘But… well, where should I put all my…’

‘Oh, I’ll help you,’ Mr Weasley replied, cheerfully. ‘I can’t go into the women’s quarters, but I can let the scullery maids know that you’ve arrived.’

Turning, he knocked on a door.

‘Parvati? Lavender? The new governess is here; can you help her move her things into the women’s dormitory?’

There was a loud squeal from inside the room.

Rolling his eyes, Mr Weasley opened the door, and poked his head around it.

‘Oy; are you two finished?’

A few moments later, two women appeared from behind the door. Both of them dressed in the same simple uniform, and both roughly the same age as Hermione. They also both seemed to be very giggly.

‘Hello, Miss Granger!’ said one of them, who seemed to be of Indian descent. ‘Nice to meet you; I’m Parvati, and this is Lavender.’

Lavender, a girl with blonde hair that was pulled up under her bonnet, smiled.

‘Sorry we couldn’t meet you at the gates,’ Parvati said. ‘Me and Lav got a bit… distracted.’

There was a snicker from Mr Weasley. Lavender laughed, and slapped him playfully on the arm.

‘Anyway,’ Parvati continued, and Hermione was confused as to why the girl’s face had flushed at Mr Weasley’s comment. ‘We’ll help you take your bags up to the dorm.’

‘I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble-’

‘Oh, it’s no trouble,’ Lavender said. ‘Besides, we never get to talk to anyone from London; do you know what the most recent styles are?’

‘Er…’ Hermione trailed off, as the two girls hurried along the corridor. She was about to follow, when she realised that the tall redhead was still there. She turned to face him again.

‘Thank you for all your help, Mr Weasley,’ Hermione said, giving a quick curtsy. ‘I am most pleased to make your acquaintance.’

‘As am I to make yours, Miss Granger,’ the redhead replied, his freckled cheeks dimpling once again. ‘Although, like I say, “Ron” is fine. There’s half a dozen Mr Weasleys here, so it just saves time.’

‘In that case, I will call you that,… Ron.’

The redhead grinned, before leaving to run across the wild grass nearby in the direction of the stables. The shirt Ron was wearing was, indeed, rather tight on him, and Hermione couldn’t help but notice how his muscles strained against the fabric as he ran, the sunlight reflecting beautifully off his red hair.

Hermione smiled, as she turned to follow Parvati and Lavender along the corridor. Ottery St Catchpole was shaping up to be a rather wonderful place to live.

~~~~~~~~~~

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