#my heart broke but it's cool

[sepia-stained-sunset]

Y'know, the way Richter mentioned Sypha almost makes it seem like there's basically zero portraits or anything like that of her and Trevor.

Which is why I desperately need a scene with the return of Alucard's dolls so he can compare how Richter looks to his ancestors.

[wardencallings]

Thoughts on a Harding betrayal based on a poll I ran last week. Spoilers for Veilguard below!

I think that for Harding to betray the party, a very specific set of conditions would have to be met. I don't see her betraying the party on a whim, nor for anything less than absolute certainty on her part that this is right. I also dont see her siding with the gods, so her betrayal would have to revolve around Solas, specifically killing him, which I think aligns well with her belonging to the OG Stop Solas group. I'm also going to say that this would require Harding to be romanced by Rook or for something to happen to Taash.

Here is the game progression I think would be necessary for Harding to snap:

1. Rook must be vehemently against Solas in all beginning dialogue choices. Even when Harding expresses how she feels pity for Solas, Rook must be unforgiving and rigid.

2. Paradoxically, Rook encourages the Inquisitor to consider forgiving Solas. This sets up the betrayal scene.

3. Have Harding embrace her anger. Rook makes it clear she has every right to be mad at Solas for what he did. Maybe afterward, add some party banter that demonstrates just how zeroed in on that anger she is. I could see a particularly interesting exchange between Bellara and Harding. The party members are a little apprehensive of Harding's anger, even maybe explicitly saying that they're worried about it consuming her.

4. Before the Ghilin'nain fight, Harding expresses fear of someone dying. In response, Rook tells her that she should trust herself to make the right decisions during the fight and, more so, to trust her ability with her bow -- "You always aim true, Lace."

5. Davrin is sent on the diversion mission and dies. This causes Harding to feel regretful that she didn't push harder to lead the distraction team. She becomes convinced that to prevent death, she must act rather than wait for permission. Also, she has to be alive to betray you, lol.

6. A romanced Rook is stuck in the Fade prison, and Solas is released. I can imagine some codex entries here of unsent letters from Harding to her Ma, expressing regret that she did not shoot Solas when she could've. She writes of watching Davrin fall in her place and how guilty she feels. She laments the loss of the farm, the fate of her neighbors, and the fall of Ferelden, placing blame for it all on Solas. She wonders what he will take from her next. If Rook does not romance Harding, Taash is kidnapped instead of Bellara/Neve. This step is the biggest conduit to Harding's decision to kill Solas before he can threaten or imprison anyone she loves again. After all, without Solas attempting the ritual, the gods would've never been made free, Davrin would be alive, and Rook/Taash never separated from her.

7. A scene is added where Rook reveals to the party in more detail that Solas used blood magic on them to make them see Varric. I know this happens off-screen, but maybe zero in on Harding's reaction to this. Emphasize the disgust and anger.

8. In the final one-on-one talk with her before the fight with Elgar'nan, I'd think it'd be interesting for there to be one more chance to talk her down from her anger, but it'd require a Mythal-esque dialogue tree to accomplish. Anything less, and she's going to force the binding.

9. When at the confrontation with Solas, Rook tries to resolve things peacefully. Harding, overcome with grief for both Varric and Davrin, furious at her lover being threatened by Solas, and having fully embraced her anger, shoots Solas with her bow, leading to a fight sequence and leaving Rook with no choice but to bind him to the Veil violently. There is a callback here to Harding taking this shot, just like she should've before at Solas' ritual in Arlathan (or so she says).

All in all, I think Harding's betrayal here should revolve around the theme of the game: regret. Let me know what you think or if you have any ideas. I may write something revolving around this AU if there's interest :)

[ghost-proofbaby]

Can I request Back to December with Eddie?! and if you could make it kind of angsty 🫣🥹

back to december (eddie's version)

warnings: angsty. very, very angsty. hurt/no comfort.

wc: 2.6k+

a/n: fuck it we ball. i have nothing to say about this one. if it's trash, that's between me and god.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. 

Maybe it was due to his upbringing, maybe he was another victim of circumstance, but love and him had always had a complicated relationship. It had left him scorned usually, a long line of failed situationships that trail behind him like ghosts of his pasts. Times he let bury themselves, relationships he’d get involved in knowing he’d never achieve the kind of love he’d seen in books and movies. Other people would talk about their small town romances, and he would only think of all the one night stands he’d subjected himself in which tore off a piece of himself every time he’d depart. He was the type of person to be used, to be drained of what fun the other participant could suck him dry of and then discarded for the next one. He wasn’t relationship material – he wasn’t love material.

Until you. And how unexpected you had been. 

You, who was suddenly sitting in front of him in a coffee shop, hunched over your laptop and no doubt working on finishing up classwork for that degree you’d always talked about getting with him. You, who had been the exact opposite of someone Eddie would have ever anticipated falling for. You, who had never looked at him as something to use and to discard, but to have and to hold. You, the one (and possibly only) exception to everything he thought he knew. 

You’re just as stunning as you had been on late summer afternoons in the passenger seat of his van. Same messy hair, same glowing eyes, same jestering lilt to your lips that seemed ever present even in the most serious of situations. Even with brows furrowed and new stress lines in your forehead, a slight pucker of your lips at whatever was on the screen in front of you and accentuated eyebags that hadn’t been there in your past life but now exist in the here and now, most likely a symptom of the long hours you’d always been willing to put in for the things you wanted – you still took his breath away, even now. 

The first time you’d ever spoken to Eddie, he had considered it a cruel joke. You were beautiful, someone who entered the room and everyone just knew you were the smartest person there. Teachers loved you, others at the very least tolerated you if not admired you. It prodded at every insecurity he’d already harbored. All his fears of not being good enough, of being judged for his repeating years, of forever being doomed to be worn as a mark of shame rather than a badge of pride had been put in front of him with a pretty bow on top. You were something to show off. You were something good. But those wide eyes that had slowly pulled him in, had broken down all his defenses. He’d never stood a chance.

“Eddie?” 

It’s not your voice, but that of the barista sitting down his order on the pickup counter. But his name still tears you from your concentration, and when you pale at the sight of him, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he had been staring. 

They have to call out his name a second time before he moves to grab the coffee, turning his back on you just as he had all those ages ago. His fight or flight kicks in; he doesn’t know whether it would be better to leave it as it is and hurry out of this coffeeshop with his tail between his legs, or if for once in his life, it was worth leaning into the discomfort. Instead of running from that crackling in his chest and all the hurt flooding him the same as that final time he’d seen you, maybe he should take a deep breath and dive right in. 

Would you even recognize him as he recognized you? Would your soul see his as if for the first time all over again, and sadly smile with a whisper of, oh. There you are, again?

Or would you pretend to be strangers again? Would you pretend like all the history had faded to smoke and he was just some guy you’d bumped into at a cafe? Would you give him the honor of wiping his slate clean and just starting over, as if he’d never hurt you? 

He had been an idiot when it came to you. A loser who had been handed a gift on a silver platter, and instead of cherishing it until the end of time, he’d ruined it. Ruined you. 

The decision is made long before his palm wraps around the overly warm cup, and his feet carry him to your table before doubt would wrap its chords around his throat.

His chest flutters just like it had in the autumn when he’d first realized that how he felt for you was different. As the leaves of Hawkins had changed color, so had his feelings, turning their own brilliant and vibrant shades between him draping his leather jacket across your shoulders and the gentle kisses you’d wake him with before the sun even rose. Quiet and private moments between just the two of you that Hawkins had never bore witness to. Hazy afternoons spent under the guise of tutoring him in subjects like math and science bled into dinner dates at Benny’s, sharing milkshakes and him teaching you how to tie a cherry stem with your tongue.

He had loved you. He still loves you. And he’d been a fool, because it had never occurred to him that during those Autumnal months, more than just the leaves or just him had been falling. 

Even the warmth of all your love that he had been blind to wasn’t enough to stave off the chill that had crept in by that December. Winter was cruel. You’d both learned that the hard way. One bad argument, one stormy night, and it had all fallen apart. He’d lost you — he’d lost that ray of sunshine in his life, the one thing that should have kept him warm through icey December nights. All over something that had started off over a disagreement of future plans and unraveled into an argument over differences.

His voice cracks as he stands before you, eyes wide as he says, “Hey.”

When you look back up at him this way, it’s hard to believe that he never saw it. That love, swirling with endless depth. That quiet but firm matter of fact that you loved him, and a piece of you if not all of you always would, even after he’d shattered your heart on the ground carelessly. 

“Hi,” your voice is meek. Even after nearly a year, all it took was him being here, and you felt the person you’d worked so hard to build from scratch fall right apart, exposing all your old wounds and still-sensitive nerves. Before Eddie, you’d always seemed so sure of yourself.

He should walk away. He should leave you be. He should just live with what he’d done, the damage he’d inflicted, and let you continue to heal.

He can’t. “Is this seat taken?” 

You hesitate as you stare at the chair that his hand lands on the back of, and he doesn’t blame you. He isn’t sure he’d let him take that seat either. 

“No,” you answer honestly, clearly against your better judgment, “It’s… open.” 

There were a million other seats he could have taken. A plethora of empty tables he could have chosen over your currently occupied one. Hell, he could have even just walked out of there and let your soul rest. But for the life of him, he couldn’t. Because you’re here, and you’re only staring at him rather than cursing him with every foul name under the sun like he deserves, and all of the rotten parts inside of him are clawing out for your kindness. Like a child desperate for comfort, like a wounded animal taking shelter. 

He takes that seat wordlessly, and watches you slowly shift your laptop out from in between you two. 

You clear your throat first, offering that first olive branch, “How’ve you been?” 

He almost wants to wave your question off. He’s been giving a rare opportunity and almost can’t stomach the thought of wasting it on small talk.

“Good,” he forces the answer out, “We, uh- we got picked up as openers for a tour this summer.” 

We as in the band. The thing he’d put above you. He just might regret that decision for the rest of his days.

You’d had a college plan. He’d had a drop out plan. But you had still tried to fight tooth and nail for him; you'd given up a fraction of your reputation for him, a side effect of being associated with the freak, and you hadn’t even blinked an eye. It had been the bare minimum, at least in your eyes, but to him it had been a sign that he was nothing but poison for you. It went further than just the fact that you had your shit together and he didn’t. Once the first weak spot had his attention, all the fragile delicacies that your relationship hung on by did. He stopped ‘studying’ with you at Benny’s, choosing Hellfire Club over you. He always forgot to congratulate you on your accomplishments, whereas you never missed a beat in recognizing his. It was always him taking, taking, taking. He had watched you give, endlessly, over and over, and convinced himself that one day, he’d bleed you dry. He convinced yourself it was better to break your heart than to drain you for all that you were worth. He’d never considered your perspective of it all.

“That’s amazing,” you should be scathing, hurt and angry to have to hear about how the very thing he’d broken your heart over was working out for him. But you aren’t, and you both know you never could be; you were happy for him and still cheering him on, even after all the damage done between you two, “What’s the band you’re opening for?”

Stiff, cool small talk continues. Talk of this band that had so graciously taken Corroded Coffin under their wing. Discussions of the weather. Comments on the college you’d been accepted into, and confirmation you had been working on class work when he’d found you. You had a full ride. He tries to remember all the times you’d discussed your specific accomplishments that would award that, if you’d ever bragged about your GPA to him or any of the extracurricular activities you’d taken part in for a shiny bit on your applications. But he can’t recall them; maybe he had just gotten too jealous at the time, or maybe you’d been aware of the hurt it would have caused him and avoided the bragging rights. (It was the latter. God, he knows it’s the latter, but it hurts to admit it). 

It’s painful. So, so utterly and terribly uncomfortable. He once knew everything about you. The mundane things like your favorite song to belt out with the windows down, and the remarkable things like how it felt to feel your heartbeat pressed to his while his bedroom window was open on frigid November nights. He’ll never know that feeling again. He’ll never feel your breath sync with his, and he’ll never get the chance to not take for granted that serenity you’d always offered with open palms in his direction.

When the conversation dwindles and the coffee goes lukewarm, he knows it has to end. He’d replayed this scenario a million times — rehearsed his apologies and tormented himself with endings where you took him back. You’d forget the past and drop your guard as you welcomed him back into your arms. The night he should have vocalized his fears of dragging you down with him but instead claimed you were holding him back would be erased. His pride would become a caged animal who had spent enough time roaming free and wreaking havoc on the best things in his life. Everything would go back to the way it was. Everything would be okay again. In his mind, that’s how this should have gone.

It didn’t. But he could still offer at least one piece of his dress rehearsals to you, leave at least one bandage behind for the trouble he’s caused.

“I’m sorry, you know,” he stumbles out, and it’s not nearly as smooth as all the words he’d repeated to the mirror, “I’m sorry for the way things ended.” 

You’d loved him. Really, really loved him. And he’d taken it for granted, he had used it and discarded it for all it had been worth. 

He’d always known you were smart. You wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, even if that love still burrowed in the channel of your heart frozen in time, forever cursed to a loop of the December night he’d chosen to chew you up and spit you back out.

“Don’t be,” you smile sadly, and he sees the glimpse of the you that still loves him, that still wants the best for him. The piece of you that will always treat him better than he deserves, “We got everything we wanted, right? It all worked out in the end.” 

“Right.” 

His tongue is dry, almost swollen, heavy in his throat. 

He doesn’t know how to tell you that no, he didn’t get everything he wanted. None of it worked out in the end. Because at the end of the day, he finds that the only thing he really wants is you, and he will never have you again. You had treated him so well, had been so damn good to and for him, and he hadn’t known what to do with himself. Some foolish part of him still believes that with the knowledge he finally holds now, he could treat you better — treat you right. But he can’t. He’ll never even get the chance. He’ll never even deserve the chance.

An exchange of goodbyes. A final glance. An acceptance that even if he locked away his pride now, it had already dug its claws into you, and the scars would always remain. 

He leaves more unspoken words in that coffee shop, at that table with you and your cold latte, than he can count. You both promise to reach out to each other more often, but you both know it won’t happen.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He never does these days. 

Repentance churns his chest, a familiar friend, and demands to be felt until he can see the sun begin to rise through the curtains of his hotel room. He swears he feels the ghost of gentle lips kissing his cheeks, whispering to come to bed, but it might just be the wind. 

There may only be a small piece of you frozen to that night and all your time together, and you may still have a possibility of thawing from the cold that he left you out in, but there is no such luxury for Eddie. He’ll always be there. Repeating words he doesn’t mean, watching tears well in your eyes as he destroys everything he’d ever wished for, setting aflame the one thing he could have done right in his life.

He writes another song about it, ignores the tear stains on the paper and adds it to the collection of all the ones that came before it. 

Across the city, your pillow matches the sheet of lyrics. Tears shed that Eddie would never be able to recognize through his own smoke and ash.

Love was never something that came easily to Eddie. Regret, on the other hand, always would — always, for as long as you exist somewhere out there, frozen in December. 

“And I think about summer, all the beautiful times when I watched you laughing from the passenger side – and realized I loved you in the fall.”

[racke7]

Trans-Kirito story-idea

After the SAO beta-test, Suguha "borrows" (read, follows her god-given right to be an annoying little sister) Kirito's NervGear.

As Suguha very much doesn't want to run around "as a boy" (yuck), she redoes the body-scan.

Kirito is very much not amused by Suguha stealing his shit, and takes it back. Kirito checks that nothing is actually broken (it works just fine), but doesn't think about "resetting" the body-scan.

The in-game avatar isn't changed (Kirito picks "male"), and Suguha the preteen and Kirito before his growth-spurt have very similar body-types), so any "this feels a bit odd to get used to"-feelings are attributed to Kirito lying about his height.

SAO starts, and Kirito is having zero issues with his avatar.

SAO becomes a death-game and Kayaba makes the mirror-item happen.

The mirror-item uses the recorded body-scan to create the avatar (and a video-feed for recording faces and facial-expressions).

So Kirito now has the body of a preteen girl, and the face of a very cute boy.

Let the chaos begin.

[gomosmorodina]

found a comment on youtube that says maybe herb was in love with bojack and that stuck in my head 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

[coconut530]

WHAHAHAHHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTT!?!

[janewindsorcollage]

Crimson and Clover

10x14

Hand-cut, mixed media collage

2024

[ineffablejaymee]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT HOW HAVE I NEVER NOTICED IT BEFORE

THIS IS THE OG NOVEL REFERENCE

SHE READ IT IN THE BOOK

COOL

[arthursfuckinghat]

Arthur and Honey Puff 𑁦𐂂𑁦 Lake Isabella

[buthappysoverrated]

forever losing my mind to his reaction here in making dennis reynolds a murderer

[disposal-blueeee]

diaryfic doodles

alright. i think i'll use this account to post vargas things from now.

i can't stop thinking about convalescence (not a good thing D:) and i really wanted to draw something related. i'm even thinking of doing an animated meme,,, but i need to learn how to animate first hahaha

butterflies

drawing him like this it's giving me brain damage i could even cry rn

scary

my first time drawing jake,,, i love him so so so so much

and i have a mini comic too!!

i honestly love jake so much. it broke my heart seeing edgar begging for him to stay even if he wasn't there on the first place. and i obviously had to draw it because i love angst

he, in fact, left him (because he was never there in the first place)

bonus

frozen yogurt :D (good ending)

this is the original one btw (credits to zarla)

i know it's not related to diaryfic but it was really fun to draw

[nomoretumbler]

just skipped to the miss power special so I could understand a lot better what people were talking about… let me tell you lives were CHANGED.

[theeconfession]

and if i say buck hurting eddie on the court wasn't about eddie it was about buck becoming reckless whenever he feels out of balance, threatened or whenever he craves love and attention because that's how he has been since he was a child its how he tries to gain control of his life he probably thought (subconciously) he would be the one getting hurt but it was eddie who got hurt instead

[terriblygrimm]

one (1) fear: luke isn’t the one to train din with the darksaber and instead it’s someone else

[keeps-ache]

i don't wanna take over the world, it sounds like a lot. but you know, laying siege to a golf course sounds really nice sometimes

[pentaghast]

hey you just spent 60 to 70 hours getting to know these characters and possibly romancing them? well lets throw in a suicide mission for them where at LEAST one of them dies! teehee this is goooood gaming folks love a shock value death