#oh hey y'all

[caddy-whump-us]

A Visit to Ruslan

This is woefully incomplete but tl;dr: Viktor finally goes to visit his (wilder, less formal) brother, Ruslan, during one of Ruslan's huge gatherings. Of course he bring Etienne with him.

A handful of frail-looking figures, men and women both, were gathered on high-backed couches drawn up near the fireplace and all of them wearing red ribbons tied loosely around their necks; one of the young women wore a white bandage under her red ribbon.

As Etienne crutched towards them, they turned to look at him and, as he drew closer, Nikolai rose up slowly and came to meet him.

Nikolai’s black eyes flicked down at the brace around Etienne’s leg and the crutch under his arm. He drew in closer and whispered with some fear in his voice,“Etienne, what did you do?” And then, without waiting for an answer, he hissed, “You are an absolute fool.” But he still took Etienne’s free arm and led him over to the couches.

Etienne half sat and half collapsed into a seat with his braced leg stretched out in front of him. There was laughter in the room beyond them but here it was warmer and quieter.

“This is Etienne,” Nikolai said softly. “His master is Viktor [Surname], my master’s brother.” And there were nods and demure looks among them all.

Etienne nodded to them and then silence fell among them. What was there to say? They all knew what their red ribbons signified, and that kept them separate from the gathering beyond them. Etienne cast a glance at Nikolai’s bandaged hands and Nikolai tucked them closer to him and turned away. There was loud laughter somewhere behind them. One of the young men looked out over the high back of the couch. Another young woman’s hands were trembling.

“Have you been to visit Lord Ruslan before?” the young woman asked at last–a soft voice; a sweet, rose-scented voice.

Etienne stammered a moment. “No, I–I have not.”

One young man was lounging back in his seat, swinging one foot idly. He had been eyeing Etienne’s brace for a while but now looked him full in the face. ”No wonder.”

Nikolai gave an irritated sigh and closed his eyes. “Phillip…”

Etienne, though, turned to Phillip and, smiling politely: “I do beg your pardon, but what do you mean?”

Phillip leaned forward, languid. “Yes, please excuse me. Perhaps I misspoke. I mean your leg. He was smiling now. “Lord Ruslan lives so far afield from anywhere. It’s quite a long journey. And, well, most of them like to keep us as perfect as possible.” His voice dropped low now: “Your lord and master wouldn’t hobble you like that unless you were inclined to run. And he wouldn’t risk you running on your journey here. He might never find you again.”

“And you haven’t tried to run?”

“Of course I have,” Phillip answered. “But only once. Unlike you, it seems I can learn my lesson the first time.”

“How disgraceful,” Etienne said; Phillip rolled his eyes. “You try once and then give up entirely. It’s pathetic, really.”

Phillip was lounging in his seat again. “I wonder if he thinks your leg will mend itself when he takes you.”

“He won’t–take me, I mean.”

“Are you so sure? What are you going to do–run away again?”

“Yes. As many times as I have to,” Etienne said, his voice rising. “I was taken against my will and I refuse to bend to his expectations of me.”

“Etienne, please,” Nikolai whispered, looking at him sidelong and through his eyelashes.

“Imagine a crippled vampire,” Phillip said, still staring at Etienne. “Imagine you hobbling along after your prey.”

Etienne jumped up unsteadily, balanced on his better leg. “I will never–”

“Etienne.”

The voice came from out in the room beyond the couches. Nikolai closed his eyes. The chatter in the room quieted. Etienne turned his head slowly to see Viktor in the crowd. He straightened up just as slowly; both wore faces like blank masks. Viktor held out one hand and crooked a finger to beckon Etienne over.

Etienne grabbed for his crutch and seemed fit to stab it through the floor as he made his way over. When he was within reach, Viktor caught him by the scruff of his neck and held him there, half hunched. The chatter in the room began again.

Phillip turned his attention to Nikolai. “He’s going to end up a wanderer. He’ll be half-mad and eating goats.”

“He’s a childish idiot,” the girl next to Phillip said. “To be given something so precious only to throw it back in his master’s face.”

“Please,” Nikolai said again. He was clenching his hands tighter now; he’d not been given his usual dose yet and the wanting was beginning to gnaw at him. And since he’d not been given it yet, then it would be later, which would mean that he was to be shared, which–and he realized The girl’s gray eyes were on him. He looked at her, then looked away.

She, though, tipped herself onto the couch so she was half-sitting, half-lying, and close enough to whisper with Phillip. Phillip dropped down with her and they lay there, propped on their elbows, face-to-face.

“Can you imagine,” she said, not whispering, “if Nikolai is taken and then that Etienne turns out to be his black swan?”

“Is it possible?” Phillip asked, beginning now to grin. “I’ve never heard of a black swan shared between two.”

“It must be! Only if they never meet, then they’ll never know.”

“But why our Nikolai?”

“Did you see how he was with our new friend Etienne?” And they both giggled.

“Lily–how badly do you think Nikolai wants him?” Phillip asked, his eyes sly and narrow.

“Terribly,” Lily answered, just as sly. “So many hours spent pining and weeping, perhaps even–” The girl beside Lily, with the white bandage under her ribbon, touched Lily’s shoulder gently, a warning. Lily paused for a moment. Then: “Nikolai, how badly do you want him?”

Nikolai was gazing into the coals at the bottom of the fire. “Not at all,” he said. And suddenly his hand felt emptier of the ring that should have been there.

[arinsanity]

boo! p03 and scag jumpscare :3

[a2zillustration]

I've been waiting for an excuse to tell you why Croissant is called Croissant for SO LONG

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[channnel]

May I present y'all a ✨️𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓎 𝒥𝓊𝓁𝑒𝓈✨️?

[littleprincerianne]

"electric car or car that runs on gasoline?" no boo, these:

[dismas-n-dismay]

Suki - Chimera Falin amv

I present before you: The Chimera Falin Edit.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[zoobus]

"high context vs low context" "culture clash" "never learned how to express himself" "neurodivergent vs neurotypical"

I feel like you guys live in some alternate reality where it's extremely common to tell the guy you're stuck with for the foreseeable future that you dislike them and wish they wouldn't talk to you

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

[nattikay]

friendly reminder that Neteyam is a well-adjusted kid who has a good relationship with his parents, that he tries his darnedest to be a good warrior because he genuinely looks up to his dad and wants to be like him, and that the idea that Jake and Neytiri are "forcing" him to be perfect, that they "stole his childhood" or that he's "not allowed" to be a kid, etc. are all pure fanfiction with little to no evidence in canon thanks bye

[gottagetgogottagetattahere]

I think I'm going to implode

[caddy-whump-us]

full disclosure this is the person who messaged you about Gravity’s Rainbow like several years ago then went on for an uncomfortably long time about the robert jay lifton brainwashing method. BTW I reread GR and it's actually a tie for my favorite book of all time now so thanks for that. But you're legit the single best writer I've ever seen on this webbedsite and I check every month to see if you'll come back. PLEASE come back 😭the American people need weird goth content 🙏

ANON YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE ME CRY REAL GHIBLI-STYLE BITCH TEARS IN A MINUTE.

My new year's resolution is to come back and actually post some stuff. As the poet said, "my life got flipped, turned upside down" but it seems to have settled some. I'm feeling...pretty good actually.

My main new year's resolution is to fix the vampires because the internal issues and discontinuity are Bothering me. (That whole series needs a genuine name. Suggestions welcome.)

IF YOU NEED WEIRD GOTH CONTENT, I'M GONNA GIVE YOU THAT.

AND I THINK why am i yelling? that describing my stuff as "goth" makes it make more sense? If that makes sense?

Whatever. I've got a guy here who was Oliver then Gravesby then 8204 then Riddle and he needs kicking around.

[emiplayzmc]

Okay so like

Glisten was a DHMIS OC before Dandy's World was a thing, right?

HC'ing that Glisten's 'teacher' role would've been something along the lines of friendship / fitting in for the gang? Something similar to a mix of the Love episode from the webseries and Jobs and Family from the TV show (Having a community of people who care about you + fitting into an environment or mold or dynamic) - a whole bunch of Yada Yada about 'this stuff makes you likeable and this stuff doesn't!!!' and 'look at all of MY friends, aren't I popular, isn't it fun being liked by people?? Don't you want to fit in with us??'

I'm uh. NOT REALLY GOOD WITH GORE PLACEMENT SO IDK WHERE IT WOULD FIT INTO THE EPISODE IF IT WOULD EXIST?? There's almost always some gore element to the episodes- But yeah basically he is the epitome of toxic friendships / being toxic to yourself by forcing yourself into a little perfect box so that others like you. And then a lot of his Oh Shoot™️ moment that most Teachers seem to have would be breaking down from that 'perfect little box' in front of the main cast.

Anywayyyys. Red Guy is unintentionally the most popular of the bunch, Duck is constantly peeved that people aren't 'respecting' him by being his friend and is trying to steal Red's thunder, and Yellow is just. Barely even trying to fit in the whole time, he mainly wants to do his own thing.

And then that probably gets him sucked into seeing Glisten's REALLY BAD Oh Shoot™️ mental break moment from questioning why and how Yellow is still perfectly happy doing his own thing and just liking his own little group of the ✨️Three Of Us✨️ instead of a huge group of 'friends,' and then questioning why he himself is even doing all of that acting for a group of people in the first place (maybe in the episode his group of 'friends' are the ones who get attached to Red and ditch him? As a show and tell for how these types of people are just. Awful. And they latch onto Red because he's the latest thing that's caught their eyes and Glisten is old news. Just a dusty mirror. And for the rest of the episode after this happens, he's trying to get himself back to being the star of the show and potentially attempting to recruit Yellow to help him do it).

Anyways there's some brainrot for all of us fine Dandy's World / Don't Hug Me I'm Scared fans on this fine Thursday the 12th, because I have been thinking about this non-stop since I found out about this fact.

^ Art from Qwel about what Glisten would've looked like in DHMIS. Put him with the butterfly and the lamp in the Skittles Squad /lh /silly. Would've loved to know what he would've been as a teacher if he'd have stayed on the DHMIS OC route.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Convenience store Vampire, part 2

Part 1 here :)

“Ya do know there's a dead Exorcist outside yer door, right? 'nd I think he's forming a ghost.”

I gaped. The mental image of an Exorcist becoming a ghost was hilarious, enough so that I was tempted to throw on my cloak and brave the morning light to see it. “You are not pulling my leg, are you? What kind of Exorcist ends up as a ghost?”

Ghosts were formed from the dregs of a soul, the determination to stay alive. I could have sworn all exorcists were taught ways of avoiding becoming ghosts, right along with their killing-vampire classes, but I guess this one missed the memo. 

“'Swear on my bruised ‘ittle heart, I ain't! Come take yer 'brolly and see,” she exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Reluctantly, I threw on my cloak and pulled out a parasol. With Hash hopping up and down in excitement by my side, I stepped out.

The morning sun burned and stung, even with the layers of clothing I wore. But it was worth it, to see the ectoplasm slowly coagulating into the form of a young man. “Did he get run over by a car? He's completely pulverised,” I noted.

Hash shrugged. “Dunno, but he's a wreck. 'Ink we oughta call someone?”

I considered the corpse. “Let's pull him into the shop, first. We can store him in the broom closet,” I said. The idea of one of my regulars finding two inhumans staring at a dead exorcist was not a pleasant one. I could already smell the smoke from the torches and taste the garlic oil on the stakes. Beside me, I knew Hash was thinking of it too.

“Wouldn't it be worse if we got caught with a corpse in yer shop? Maybe we oughta just call ‘em coppers, and be done with it,” she said dubiously.

“Yeah, but we should help him… Right?” I knew what the exorcists would do if they found one of their kind forming a ghost. It would be a quick bullet to the head for that newborn wraith. “It would be wrong to leave him out there for them to kill,” I said, thinking furiously. “But…”

Hash was one step ahead of me. “What if we bring the ghostie in and then call ‘em? We can pretend he didn't form anything, ya know?”

“I mean, it works, but they can sense the presence of twice-dead. They will know something is nearby, and they can probably put two and two together,” I said, and gave the corpse an experimental prod with the toe of my shoe. Ectoplasm and blood, along with something worse, oozed out.

Hash scrunched her face up. “Ya know, I think I know how to solve that,” she said. “Lemme call someone. You better drag ‘im in.”

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

@riveriafalll, (Anyone else who wants to get added can tell me in the comments, pm me, or send me an ask about it!)

[warrior-of-storms]

they're menaces, they know that they're menaces, and they take pride in being menaces together.

Gwen can and will crash on Terry & Dana's couch when she's in the area, and her greatest joy in life is annoying old Bruce because she's not a Bat and he can't do anything about her. Gwen is like the sister Terry never had. They share like half a braincell whenever they're in the same place at the same time. Bruce is so done with them all of the time.

Somehow, Gwen's life is miserable enough that she considers visiting Terry in Gotham to be a vacation.

[renabe4life]

Something feels off as he goes through the motions, and it's not just that his neck is stiff from sleeping funny. Or that his knee still faintly hurts from knocking it against the tub last night. No surprise there, probably sporting the start of a lovely bruise.

Splashing water on his face, he then reaches for the hand towel. Fingers clutch at air, find an empty ring where one usually hangs. Odd, he remembers it being there yesterday. He shakes hands out over the sink, lets his face drip a few moments more before turning around to grab one from the shelf. Nearly empty. Right, he thinks as he dries his face. He'd done a load of wash last night.

Hopefully got all the blood out.

Blood…?

He drops the towel from his face, eyes darting to the tub. In the dim morning light that filters in through the window, he can see that it is half full with water. And it hits him like a truck that there ought be something else in there too.