#ref writes stuff

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids until they had found deviancy enough to pursue their own projects. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar, but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[completelylegal]

the ONE BIG THING THEY DONT TELL YOU WHEN YOU START WRITING is that you gotta be OKAY with deleting and editing. Not just prepared for it, not steeling yourself enough for it, you have to be OKAY with it. It has to be NORMAL. You have to go into it thinking that EVERYTHING is a rough draft that will be part of a CONTINUOUSLY EVOLVING piece.

And I mean this in every part of writing.

I’ve spent HOURS stuck on sentences I didn’t want to revise, chapters I didn’t want to admit didn’t fit into my narrative, even whole PLOTLINES that I had previously mapped out.

The point is, if you’re stuck because it feels wrong, it feels wrong for a reason.

and as a writer, you have to be used to the thought that not every idea needs to be there. because that’s how you end up refining the story you want to tell.

[morethanmemory]

Cold on during a night?

Crawl into Phosphorus' bed without anyone noticing so the guards can have a little freakout in the morning <3

Pairing: Doctor Phosphorus/Reader

Warnings: None; Some suggestive touching

Notes: Thank you for the request, anon! Just some short Phosphorus fluff for y'all (: Reader has draconic heritage so Phosphorus's radioactive flames don't burn because uhhh I said so ! Y'all will not believe the amount of research I did on underground temperatures and sewer lines just to see if it made sense for the non-human wing to be cold, and yes, Belle Reve (according to wiki) is in Louisiana!

---

Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season. This deep underground, the Non-Human Internment Division should be marginally warmer than the world above, but fifty years of deteriorating, shitty-to-begin-with insulation has left the entire wing about as toasty as the North Pole. The old concrete does little to ward off the night chill, especially when it rains. Nestled within a web of storm drains and sewer lines, coupled with crappy plumbing, the Non-Human wing is the unfortunate victim of leaky pipes and dank cells every Louisiana winter.

Phosphorus's personal hellhole is no exception.

Plink. A drop lands on his brow, evaporating the moment it touches his radioactive skin. Hiss. He turns with a grumble, tugging the threadbare, itchy blanket over his head. Plink. Another droplet hits his foot. Hiss.

Cold. Wet. Miserable. Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season.

But, there is one bright side.

The air vent in the center of his room shudders, filling the cell with the groan of rusty metal. A second later, you're unceremoniously tumbling from his ceiling like a baby bird tossed from its nest. You land by his bed in a crumpled heap, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

With a pained moan, you get to your feet, dusting off the cobwebs that cling to your uniform.

"You really stuck the landing this time," he snickers softly as he props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

"Fuck off," you hiss under your breath. You pick a dead spider from between the silver scales running up your forearm and flick it at him with a scoff. It burns to a crisp as he yelps in disgust.

Still, he lifts his blanket as you pad nearer.

"You're a terrible house guest."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize dramatically, placing a hand over your heart as you hover above him. "You must forgive me. I believe I forgot my fucks in the air ducts about three cells back."

You can hear him rolling his eyes even as he reaches up to place his hand on your hip.

"You're a real comedian tonight, aren't you?" he murmurs playfully. His hand slides to the small of your back, gently pulling you down beside him. The old mattress springs shriek in squeaky horror beneath your combined weight, squealing as you both shuffle under the single sheet.

You stifle a laugh as his head hits the concrete wall behind him in his haste to make space for you, and Phosphorus pinches your hip in retaliation.

"Shut it, Smaug the Terrible," he mutters, drawing you closer. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

A soft chuckle slips past your lips, and you fix him with an amused look. "You? A gentleman?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

Your silence answers him loud and clear.

"Asshole," he huffs, pulling the blanket over you, and you can't help but giggle.

His warmth, radioactive and sickly as it is, is a welcome reprieve from the biting cold of the cell. The phosphorescent glow of his skin illuminates your features, glinting off your silver scales like the Northern Lights dancing over a dark lake. Soft shadows stretch themselves over the rough scutes along your brow and cheeks, and you let out a quiet, happy hum as he gently traces the jagged trail of scales with his thumb.

He doesn't tell you that you're hogging the blanket or that you've yanked it high enough to leave his feet bared to the seemingly endless drip of freezing water from the pipes above. Instead, Phosphorus lazily drapes his arm around your waist and tugs you closer.

"You'd think we'd at least get upgraded to bigger beds for saving the world," he grouses, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt in search of soft skin and sharp scales.

"What, the ping-pong table wasn't thanks enough?"

Phosphorus snorts out a light laugh and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I would've preferred they approved my other request."

"The cafeteria soda fountain?" you grin as the tip of his thumb drags along your bottom lip. He leans closer, close enough that you can feel his breath dance down the bridge of your nose. Slowly, Phosphorus tips your head back until your warm eyes meet his hollow sockets.

"Yeah, sure," he whispers, lips brushing your own. "The soda fountain."

You can't see it, but you know he's smiling, can feel the curve of it as his lips press against yours. And then, he's kissing you. Slow, soft, sweet. He cradles your face in the same hand that's melted through the flesh and bone of countless men. His touch, though, is anything but deadly.

The hand under your shirt travels higher, mapping out the arch of your spine and the ridge of razor-sharp spikes running up it, and you whine for more. More of this tenderness neither of you have known in so, so long. The tip of his tongue drags over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a fight. Sharp words fail you both in the face of this soft sweetness. The warmth that rolls off his tongue is still unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It seeps into every fiber of your being, liquid hot in your veins, molten metal down your throat. You should burn beneath his hands, crumble to ash and dust like everything else he's ever known, but you don't.

Your hands swiftly find their way to his jaw with a clumsy desperation, and sparks shoot across his skin as your scales scrape against it. He moans into your open mouth, fighting down a hungry growl, but his body betrays him. His hand hikes your shirt up; his hips roll against your own. He's kissing you a little faster, a little harder.

Plink.

The splatter of one, two, three droplets of ice-cold water against your forehead cuts through the building heat between the two of you, and you pull away with a quiet giggle. Phosphorus groans, a low rumble caught between irritation and amusement, chasing after your lips.

Plink. Plink. He sneezes as a few drops of water tickle his nose. Hiss.

With a defeated sigh and a final nip at your bottom lip, Phosphorus relents, surrendering to the battalion of leaking pipes. At least, he thinks, you're still here, laughing in his arms. As your laughter fades, you bury your face in his chest and breathe him in deep. He smells like the world after a thunderstorm, and your eyes drift shut as you commit the scent to memory.

"Don't let me fall asleep," you yawn, nestling yourself against him despite how his prison-issued shirt scratches your cheeks. "The guards—"

"I know," he shushes you, kissing your forehead. "I won't."

He tries his best. Really, he does. He talks to you about everything under the sun. Nuclear physics, his favorite composer, the time he watched Weasel spend five minutes trying to hack up a fork. You tell him about ancient runes, your favorite authors, the time you ate a police officer (completely in self-defense) and nearly choked on his femur.

Leaving before sun-up, sneaking out before the guards catch you, making sure you don't fall asleep so the scales you've grown above the tracker in your neck can stay up and disrupt the location transmission—they're all an excuse. Because, truth be told, all either of you really want are a few more stolen moments. Another story shared in hushed whispers beneath his fraying bedsheet. Another teasing touch that leaves you both wanting more. Another hour, minute, second. You don't remember falling asleep.

When you wake, it's to angry shouts and rough hands. One moment, you're wrapped up in Phosphorus's sturdy arms; the next, you're face down in a puddle of dirty water on the floor of his cell, pinned down by a guard that smells of nacho cheese. You feel the unmistakable burn of blazing radiation fill the tiny room, see the bright glare of his skin flaring like wildfire before your eyes, hear a shrill shriek of a horrified guard echo against the concrete walls. For a split second, you think it might actually work this time, that your fight for a few more moments won't be futile, but a skull-splitting pain rips through your body. You know Phosphorus feels it too when he limply lands beside you with a dull thud.

Your eyes meet, and with the little strength he has left after the shock, Phosphorus reaches out to brush his hand against yours.

Solitary confinement for the week is worth it. Every time.

[callisteios]

I have a new uquiz for you, go on a pilgrimage with me. discover who you are.

[leenoe]

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[maythearo]

" the devil is real

and he's not a little red man with horns and a tail.

he can be beautiful

because he's a fallen angel, and he used to be God's favorite "

[topazadine]

Writing Notes: Seasons

I noticed a few leaves falling from my tree, which means only one thing: it's time.

Time for fall. My favorite, blessed, most beloved season. Pumpkin spice lattes! Candy apples! Cherry pie! Haunted houses! Chilly weather that makes me snuggle up into my hoodie! Candy!

And, of course, it means that I have to share some writing notes with you about seasons.

So today, we're going to share a few different perspectives on seasons. We'll talk about the "traditionally accepted" associations for seasons, but also share other options and how you can infuse them into your work.

Why Use Seasons at All?

You don't have to if you don't want to. Maybe you want to focus entirely on the plot. But, you might add some hints of it for these reasons.

Gives a sense of place. This allows you to show how this place is impacted by particular seasons. Winter in Kampala, Uganda, is going to be wildly different than in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Offers worldbuilding options. In a fantasy setting, seasons are an element of worldbuilding. (Just look at Game of Thrones.) There may be different dangers according to seasons, or unique holidays that can allow you to demonstrate how people interact with this world. Provides templates for description. You can get a lot of mileage out of showing a nice grassy field in spring or the leaves fluttering down during autumn. Don't go on for ages, but you can certainly add a few little flickers here and there. (just remember to put them in the right places for maximum momentum.) Deepens characterization. How characters feel about and interact with the seasons can tell us a lot about who they are. Someone who loves winter could love it because then they can ski, or because they want to cuddle up and be left alone. Someone who loves summer might like lounging around on the porch eating ice cream, or they might like it because it's time to go surfing! Suggests new challenges. If your character lives in Montana, winter is going to be horribly cruel. "The Hunter's Wife" by Anthony Doerr is all about how the seasons challenge the characters and help them grow. But in your story, it might be summer that's the worst. Or fall, or spring, or all of them but in different ways. Creates subtle symbolism. The season of your story can use certain symbolism depending on what kind of plot you have and what your overall theme is, as we'll discuss now.

So, now that we understand why seasons are important, let's look at each one and consider why it might be the best time for your story.

I will note that I am coming from the perspective as a person in the Midwestern United States. What I associate with the seasons, particularly the descriptions, may be utterly irrelevant to you depending on where you are from. If I made a wholly comprehensive list considering the entire world, we'd be here all day.

Keep that in mind and workshop some options for your setting and personal associations.

I'm not omniscient, so take what seems useful to you and leave the rest.

Spring

Ah, the flowers are blooming, the world is warming up, and we're finally crawling out of doors now that we're not buried in slush. Spring is generally associated with positive emotions, but there could be some dangers here, too.

To get some good symbolism, focus on spring's unique place between two fixed, more stable seasons, where we know what to expect: winter and summer.

There is a fragility and shifting balance in spring that can veer good or bad depending on what you're trying to show. Spring also has a sense of expectation, which can pay off (good summer) or fail (icky bad summer).

Associations

Positive

Warmth

Renewal

Hope

Rebirth

Childhood

Innocence

Potential

Change

New beginnings

Reunions

Optimism

Negative

Fluctuating emotions (spring can be quite unpredictable!)

New challenges on the horizon

Feeling exposed

"Nakedness"

Vulnerability

Growing pains

Feeling underappreciated, like a stepping stone to summer

Ferocity (like intense spring storms)

The fragility of life (not every baby animal will survive)

Descriptions

Positive

Wildflowers pushing through the soil

Baby animals

Trees blooming

New blades of grass

Budding leaves

Sunny skies

Life-affirming rain

Warming breezes

Slightly chilly nights

Weak sunrises

Days growing longer

Richly scented flowers

Negative

Sudden cold snaps

Dreary weather

Grey skies

Hard rain that traps one inside

Snow (a reminder of the past)

Flooding

Melting snow revealing last year's trash

Cold mornings

Shivering

Being too hot or too cold

Hard ground

Mud

Summer

Summer fun! Those lucky enough to live by a beach want to splash in the water or go kayaking above the cool waves. We can drink an ice cold soda as we head to outdoor festivals. Kissing as the summer frogs sing a chorus, or partying late into the night: how beautiful!

But summer can be awful, too. Too much beer at a festival and you throw up everywhere, or too much humidity and you die of heatstroke. There's a reason that gun violence goes up when it's hotter: people are pissy and itching for a fight.

There can be a great push-pull here as characters attempt to moderate themselves while also indulging their sense of adventure.

Associations

Positive

Adventure

Childhood

Freedom

Exploration

Warmth

Togetherness

Community spirit

Serendipitous meetings

Happiness

A sense of endlessness (longer daylight hours)

Puppy love

Negative

Long agonizing waits (again, longer daylight hours)

Exhaustion

Overwhelm

Oppression (sociological or environmental)

Excess

Sloth (if characters like to lounge)

Lack of control

Rage

Frustration

Disappointment

Descriptions

Positive

Droning insects

Fireflies (depending on area)

Warmth

Blue skies

Bright green leaves

Active wildlife

Butterflies

Cool drinks

Unexpected cool breezes

Fresh fruit

Whirring fan

Outdoor music

Sunshine

Beautiful sunsets

Negative

Loud, cramped festivals

High humidity

Extreme heat

Dehydration

Glaring sunlight with no shelter

Tornadoes/summer storms

Mosquitos

Broken fan

Sweating

Baking trash (ugh sorry)

Sore joints from the humidity

Spoiled/soggy food

Flat fizzy drinks

Autumn

Okay, I'll try not to be too biased here, so I'll point out that autumn can be both beautiful and terrible. On one hand, we've got the cooler weather, the gorgeous foliage, and the contentment of harvest time: a job well done, and a time to rest.

Many people feel like this is when they are closest to their past loved ones and can commune with those long gone, which can be a good thing or a bad thing. It's a good time for when someone is putting their demons to rest and moving on.

We can also feel cold, dread, and fear during autumn. The nights are getting longer, and there could be all sorts of scary things in the shadows. They, too, are gearing up for the freezing winter months - and they're hungry.

Associations

Positive

Maturity

Adulthood

Rest

Slowing down

Introspection

Thinning of the veil (Halloween)

Spirituality

Retrospection

Harvest and bounty

Change

Reflection

Negative

Fear

Dread

Decay

Lost opportunities

Dwindling time

Anxiety

Limitations

Closer to the end

Feeling one's age

The unknown

Breaking down

Past coming back to haunt one

Descriptions

Positive

Falling leaves

Brisk wind

Crackling campfires

Warm drinks

Busy animals

Frost sparkling on grass

Seeing your breath in the air

Freshly baked pie

Crisp apples

Decorative pumpkins

Cozy hoodies/cloaks

Mulled wine and spices

Harvested grain

Baked bread

Sudden warm days

Negative

Fog shrouded, isolated roads

Creeping cold

Howling animals

Dark nights

Rotting fruit

Bitter wind through cracks in the house

Cold rain

Spoiled grain

Meager harvest

Insufficient clothing

Dead creatures

Skeletons

Icy mist

Barren trees

Creaking houses

Winter

Winter gets the short end of the stick when it comes to symbolism. People focus on the horrible things (cold, loss, sadness) without considering the positives: family, togetherness, comfy mittens, warm hot chocolate and presents.

After all, humans have developed our very own symbolism just to cheer the time up; winter celebrations happen all around the world. You've got so many options here, both in terms of themes, activities, and descriptions. What you focus on will determine how your story feels.

Associations

Positive

Togetherness

Community

Family

Resilience

Perserverence

Joy and whimsy

Caring for others

Possibilities

Planning

Companionship (or solitude)

Optimism

Pushing one's limits

Quietude

Introspection

Better days ahead

Negative

Cold

Nature's fury

Helplessness

Poverty (in any form)

Feeling trapped

Unpleasant relatives

Death

Old age

Broken relationships

Barrenness

Struggle

Endings

Sorrow

Lack of empathy

Hatred

Descriptions

Positive

Roaring fires

Soft heavy blankets

Thick socks

Cozy mittens

Jams and jellies

Hot drinks

Presents

Winter decorations

Christmas cookies

Candles

Softly drifting snow

Clear night skies

Conversations in another room

Clinking glasses

Mulled cider

The contrast between chilly room and warm blanket

Dead quiet nights

Negative

Freezing cold

Driving snow

Stuck in big snow drifts

Tense muscles

Dry skin

Running nose

Barren cupboards

Tense conversations with distant relatives

Frozen hands

Harsh wind

Stuffy rooms

Cold floors

Animals scratching at the door

Lack of ventilation

Can't get warm

Shivering

So there are my thoughts on the seasons! Hopefully this sparked something for you.

Now, perhaps, you will consider reading my book (now cheaper than ever!)

9 Years Yearning is a whirlwind look at two men growing up and finding themselves - and each other, wink wink. It features Uileac, an orphan determined to protect his little sister and become the best soldier he can be. However, this is complicated by Orrinir, a blustery young man whose bravado hides a surprisingly sensitive heart. In just under 34k words, they experience the whole range of human emotions - and beat a few people up. Ooh la la.

If you do decide to read 9 Years Yearning, don't forget to leave a review!

It can even be a bad review if you want. Amazon uses ratings of all shapes and sizes to determine whether a book is worth getting shown to other potential readers.

Lack of reviews = Jeff Bezos breaks my door down with a baseball bat and drags me to the Hell Sphere.

So please, I have dogs that want their snackies. For $2 and a few nice words, YOU can help buy this small child her favorite treat (bully sticks).

[prozac]

Weirdo teens

It has been a difficult task translating their reality to our own. It is disjointed and doesnt slot together with ours without sawing off the edges of the "big picture".

We have decided to use a limited palette in the creation of the translation, as to take less of a load off the link between the two universes. I hope those who participate in trials stay patient and can easily comprehend any differences, though comprehension is not always important when it comes to the experiments conducted.

I'm not sure if this is what is wanted of me.

[waywardstation]

hi! i havent been on tumblr in a Hot minute but i wanted to come here JUST to tell you that hfbe might be my fave pla fic ive read ao far! the worldbuilding and the characterization of everyone just feels so so right i fall in love

i reread it on ao3 and even tho its not completed its still a joy to reread everytime

Hello hello!! Anon you have no idea how much it meant to me to get to read this. Knowing I put something out there that you wanted to back to and reread means A LOT.

I’m glad you like it so much but man I have been editing the first two chapters (fixing errors, making characters say and do things that are more in line with how I write them now, and just adding scenes in between to help things seem more clear or hit harder), and I’m like man this really isn’t that good haha.

It’s fun to see how much I think I’ve improved since I’ve started trying to write fanfics (I wasn’t aware of how obsessed I had been with commas and run-on sentences at the start lol)

So reading this nice message really gives me such a boost of motivation. I’m so glad you like the worldbuilding, and it makes me excited to get more out because later chapters are when I really introduce specifics on a lot of things. Namely the Pearl Clan’s hunting parties, that has been my favorite.

Now I just gotta get more out! Hoping to put more out for you to read soon kind anon, I really appreciate that you find it’s something you like to reread!

For now, here is a snippet below the cut; I am unsure if I have shared this before, but it’s a scene where Ingo is preparing to advocate for the Clan to use pokeballs to store their pokemon in, so that there is less food consumption (as in HFBE, it’s emphasized that pokeballs put pokemon into a stasis where they don’t need to eat, drink, sleep, etc. for as long as they’re in them. Ingo does it with his pokemon, and he wants the clan to do it too, for their own sakes).

Wording is subject to change (VERY MUCH SO), but enjoy!

—————

“Excuse me Miss Irida, but may we talk for a moment?”

The Pearl Clan leader turned back to see Ingo – he was trailing behind the group, purposefully so. He had been waiting for the right moment to approach her.

“Right now?” Irida’s eyes flickered back over the tops of people’s heads, up towards the communal hall at the top of the hill. “I’m sorry, but can it wait until after the meeting?”

“It is actually about the meeting.” Ingo’s grey eyes were unwavering, waiting — he wanted to ask her something. And Ingo was not one to usually ask for things.

“Ok,” She relented, pausing in the snow both so he could catch up, and they could have their conversation with some privacy. “You have until we reach the hall.”

“Thank you, I assure you it will be quick.” Ingo fell into step beside her, shuffling through the snow as they now both trailed behind the group heading towards the warm hall. He kept his head tilted down just like her, using the brim of his hat to protect against the wind and snowfall. “I, well… I am planning to re-propose a proposition at this meeting tonight. I’d like to make another attempt at advocating for the use of pokeballs.”

“Tonight? Are you serious?” Irida lowered her voice for his sake, looking back between him and the group. How could he possibly think about proposing that when this meeting was for them to discuss how to prepare for this famine? “I’m saying this not as your leader but as your friend, Ingo; now is absolutely not a good time for that. Everyone is already going into this meeting angry. And if you try and start this again, they’re going to-”

Irida took a deep breath; she was already getting stressed over it.

“You know how people are going to react to that. You know who it’s going to upset, Ingo. Especially after last time. And you said you’d let it go.”

“I am well aware of what I said and I intended to stick to it, but these circumstances have changed our tracks, and I believe this may save us from derailing!” Ingo whispered back. He kept throwing quick glances at the nearing hall, gauging how much time he had left to persuade her. “Pokeballs can help us much more than the clan realizes – I’m confident that this can bring us closer to a solution, if not at least be a part of one!”

Irritation and confusion were replaced with genuine curiosity, but a fleck of doubt hesitantly followed after. Irida shook her head, not understanding. “How could they possibly help with all of this?”

“I will explain that in the meeting.” Having conquered the snowy hill, the two reached the warm light that spilled through the hall’s windows to project onto the snow. “But to do that, I need to actually present my proposal, and I’m afraid that will be difficult with the elders tonight. I am trying this for the fourth time now, and I’m aware of how this will most likely be received. I expect they’ll call to send me back to my seat before I even start.”

Ingo paused just outside the doors, waiting for Irida to go in first — she could do so and end the conversation right now if she wanted to, but she didn’t. Instead she stood there, staring at their fading shoeprints in the snow.

Irida could see why he approached her about this now, and a part of her felt sorry for him. “So you want me to vouch for you.”

“Not the proposal itself. Just the time to talk.”

[a-curious-studyblr]

3/1/25 - printed these Spanish tables for quick reference and stuck them to the wall near my desk!

[spookberry]

Okay back in my ff.net days, I read a dp fic where Sam had a cousin named Damien and he was really only introduced as a plot device and the plot of the fic was Sam was convinced that Danny was gay (despite the fact that he was dating her) and decided to use her cousin to prove it. He only shows up in one scene and was generally like a snotty rich guy she didnt get along with much.

What haunts me about this is like, I'd just assumed that was an oc... but what if it was actually a crossover fic and I just didnt realize it at the time? Like dpxdc at that time was very Dick Greyson centered in terms of the dc, and like people barely acknowledged the other robins even existing cuz most people were basing their knowledge off of like Teen Titans.

It was probs just a coincidence. I don't think it was meant to reference Damien Wayne.....however,, because I refuse to go looking to confirm anything, I'll just never know

[bugsinshoes]

I want to see your OCs in action!

RAHHHH LAURIE DUMP !!!!!

these are just little doodles of my favourite goober ever <3 shes My Main OC so i HAVE to share more of her (shes all i ever think about)

shes so lovely, it would be a shame if something bad were to happen to her :)

(she'll be fine guys)

[monstersinthecosmos]

gotta stop checking tumblr before I have caffeine because all my principles fly out the window and i feel like i'm gonna start being an obnoxious asshole when i see people citing events in their book posts that literally did not happen :SOB:

[airaly]

It's been 84 years...

Last time I drew Ravenwing was back in 2016, and I never touched her again since then :'D

I did a whole redesign because her original one really needed some fresh air, but I kept a lot of her signature characterestics which I'm too attached to change.

Below you can find Ravenwing old design

link

[major-fukkup]

Eldritch horror is great and all, but may I suggest eldritch tragedy. You have lost more than you will ever be able to comprehend possessing. It was all right there, within reach, but you couldn't have it because you're you and you weren't created for such a purpose.