#the beginning part was so fun to write

[peridots-pixiwolf]

[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

[brutal-nemesis]

big question!! dude can we please see a scene in the AU where castys has his tongue cut off and he has to deal with that? like man, the shock and the pain and the fuckin grief? and neteri just being herself ofc

anyway the latest erebus chapter was heartbreaking you’re so good at being awful to these lads (i can’t stop reading)

Thank you I try,,,,,

Okay strap in fellas I think this is banger as hell I had a great time and let me know if you have any other requests for the AU!

Ingredients: shockingly, tongue gets cut off! some suffocation as well

Castys wasn’t great at sitting in chairs normally, something his parents had always reprimanded him for, but, hey, they’d never taken it as far as to fucking tie him to one, and Castys was grateful. This shit was uncomfortable. Like, yeah, the rough ropes around his wrists and ankles were tight and itchy, but also the position just sucked. Not that he’d rather be standing or something-

“You must be Castys!” The door had swung open, and now this little lady with a white coat on was walking up to him. 

“Yes, I’m Castys,” he said flatly as she scurried behind him before coming back without her bag. And then she just…stared at him. Castys wasn’t sure what she was looking at, since there really wasn’t much to see, just, like, him. Eventually her eyes wandered up to his, and she jumped in place a bit.

“Oh, right, I’m Neteri.” She stuck her hand out like she expected him to shake it.

“You know I’m tied up, right?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Her skin was dark enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious that she was blushing, but Castys was pretty sure she was. She ended up awkwardly grabbing his right hand and shaking it a bit. “I, um, I’ll be preparing you for this afternoon. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Well, you’re not tied to a chair so I think you’ll be okay.”

She laughed. “You’re right, you’re right, but I’m just…I think I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do.”

Castys raised an eyebrow. “Let me go because I’m funny?”

Neteri rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, so clearly she did think he was funny. “No, you’re staying put, sorry bud. But I think I’m going to keep you. You’re kind of perfect.” She tried to cup his cheek in her hand, but Castys leaned away, staring at her with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His mouth was really dry all of a sudden, he wasn’t perfect, he was a fuck-up, a useless heir, that had been his goal, he wasn’t good at anything he was supposed to be good at, he wasn’t well-mannered or polite, he had a huge fucking scar on his face and a lopsided smile because of it, he was filthy and vulgar and didn’t have any interest in getting married he was absolutely anything but perfect. So why the hell did she want him?

“It’s not important right now. You’ve got a big day ahead of you!” She clapped her hands, dismissing the subject entirely. He wanted to press her further, but after seeing the lovely object she pulled out of her pocket, everything else was forgotten.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aw, what are you gonna do about it, Castys? I thought you were tied to a chair!” Great, now it was his turn to feel his face grow hot, because, yeah, what the fuck was he gonna do?

Normally, he doubted he’d immediately recognize it for what it was, but today, right now, after just being told this lady wanted to keep him, it was instantly clear. And Neteri was right, he was only able to squirm uselessly and lean away as she wrapped the collar around his neck without much trouble. His first swallow after she’d sealed it shut felt horrible, and he absolutely did not want to get used to it.

“See, it’s not so bad. It looks cute on you!” She ruffled his hair, which only made Castys more uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to be cute. I’m not a fucking dog.” He wasn’t sure whether the collar was part of Neteri’s weird desires or just to humiliate him, but either way he hated it.

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not a prince anymore, and you’re the property of the Xernan Empire, and this is a good reminder of that,” Neteri said as she walked around behind him, probably to her bag. Castys rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t a prince, since it was his favorite new development in all of this. Unless…unless it wasn’t just a reminder for him, but for everyone else, too…He really, really hoped there wasn’t going to be some sort of public display, but given how Neteri’d said he had a “big day” ahead…fuck, that was probably the case, huh?

“Now, I’m going to…oh, I might get in so much trouble for this,” Neteri muttered as she stared at the floor, standing in front of him once again. She had leather gloves on, which would have been nice earlier when she was touching him, and she was holding…a pair of shears? He didn’t think she’d put on gloves if she was just going to cut his hair, and given that she thought she might get in trouble for it, it seemed like she was going to…maim him somehow. Castys curled his hands into fists as Neteri slapped her cheeks with her palms, still talking to herself. “No, I’m going to do this. I deserve it. It’s not that far off from what the emperor wants. Okay,” she held the shears up and gave Castys a concerningly bright smile. “Any last words?”

For once, Castys didn’t take the opportunity to speak.

Instead, he locked his jaw shut tight, teeth clenched so hard it hurt, lips pressed together, walls of protection around his tongue. 

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Neteri cocked her head, watching him. “Nothing to say all of a sudden? No jokes?” Her smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed. “You figured it out, didn’t you, Castys? What I’m going to do to you.”

He didn’t bother nodding.

Neteri stepped up to him, her knee on the chair in between his legs, leaning over him, her face right above his as he craned back to avoid her. “You’re going to have to get used to obeying me, Castys.” The cold metal of the shears rested on his cheek. “So open your mouth.”

If there’s one thing Castys was good at, it was disobeying orders.

After a few moments of neither of them moving, Neteri pinched Castys’s nose shut with her free hand, not saying a word. Fine, he could play that game. Hold on as the pressure in his chest built, as his head started to spin, as his vision started to darken, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just give in to the inevitable and take a breath. He could do it quick, a little gasp, fast enough that she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Okay, three, two…

The exhale was shaky, but it was fine, just a quick inhale as he snapped his mouth shut-

His teeth scraped against metal, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

Neteri stared at him with a detached coldness as she rotated the shears, forcing his jaw open wide, wide enough for her to stick her hand in and grab his tongue, pulling it out despite his attempts to pull it back, turning the shears to the side now, opening them up, the cold blades-

Snip.

Castys’s mouth was hot it was burning he was choking the smell of blood was so strong he was suffocating on it her hand was still in his mouth her fingers pressed against his wound magic piercing through his jaw he’d scream if he had the air and then that was it her hand was gone he lurched forward coughing and spitting blood and saliva all down the front of the threadbare shirt he’d been given and once he saw the discarded little piece of pink flesh on the floor he couldn’t look at anything else he couldn’t believe that was it it was gone it wasn’t in his mouth his mouth was empty there was only the blood still dripping out and when Neteri laid a hand on his back he wanted to growl at her not to touch him but he couldn’t he couldn’t say anything anymore he was quiet nothing to say no thoughts or opinions of his own just how his parents had wanted him-

“It’s alright, Castys, just breathe. It was a little more difficult than it needed to be, but you did it.” And why did it need to be at all? “Just two more things left today and then you can rest. And then hopefully…” Her hand slid up, resting on the back of his neck, on that awful collar, and Castys wanted to scream. He never, ever wanted to belong to her.

But what he wanted didn’t matter anymore.

Castys was dragged out and whipped and branded and left out on display, brought back and patched up by Neteri and given soup that he couldn’t taste, and when the door slammed shut behind her, he finally allowed himself to cry.

His back and chest hurt, of course, the wounds aggravated no matter how he moved or what position he laid in, but he could deal with it. It was nothing compared to what he’d lost, the little pocket of empty space inside his mouth.

Words were all he’d ever have to really fight back, complaining when he was forced to do things he didn’t want to, scaring off all the suitors his parents picked out, jokes keeping him calm when he was scared or upset, even when he couldn’t do anything he could still say something, make sure everyone knew how he felt, and now he was more helpless than ever before and he couldn’t say a single fucking thing. 

He didn’t even know where he was going to end up, either sold off to some asshole or left in Neteri’s clutches, and no matter what, he wasn’t going to be treated like a person. The collar made it pretty clear. He was less than human now, a pet, a lab rat, property, something that didn’t need to have thoughts or opinions anymore. 

He’d rather be a prince after all.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump 

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​

@whumpedydump

[wolfjackle-creates]

I'll Carry Your Heart with Me (Until I Find You Again): Part 2

This time we switch to Danny's POV. 2.4k words long.

There's been a bit of a time skip and their friendship has only grown with time.

First

---------

“Mr. Fenton!” and a smack on his desk caused Danny to jump. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring out the window.

“Sorry, Mr. Lancer. Did you ask something?”

“Your grades may have improved over these last few months, but that does not give you leave to daydream in my class. I expect you to pay attention. Now, why don’t you explain what the repetition of ‘Brutus in an honorable man’ in Marc Antony’s soliloquy at Caesar’s funeral means.”

Jason had done such a good job reading that speech that Danny actually thought he could repeat it from memory. “Oh, it’s done sarcastically. To indicate he’s anything but.”

“Hmm. Very good. I hope you can keep up this new studious attitude of yours.”

Danny’s leg bounced as the rest of the class seemed to pass so slowly. As soon as he got home, he wanted to visit Jason again. His friend’s tutelage had helped not only his grades but also his fights. Who knew formal training could have such an affect? Well, he needed to pay him back.

It took all of Danny’s focus to not let his eyes drift out the window again, but he barely heard a word Mr. Lancer said as class dragged on.

And finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the day.

Danny shoved his binder in his backpack and rushed out the door without even waiting for Sam and Tucker.

He was moving as fast as possible without actually running in the halls to switch things out in his locker. It was there Sam and Tucker caught up to him.

“What’s got you in such a rush today?” asked Sam.

Danny flushed. “I’m meeting Jason today. Taking him to Ghost Writer’s lair. He’ll love the library and Ghost Writer said it’d be okay so long as I don’t so much as touch a single piece of paper or even breathe too hard on anything.”

“Dude, how’d you get him to agree to that? Ghost Writer hates you!”

Not wanting to admit how long he’d spent groveling, Danny shrugged. “I apologized to him and emphasized how much Jason loved books and writing.”

“Woah, the Danny Fenton apologized to someone? Is the world ending?”

“Shut up, Sam. I’m not that bad.”

“You kinda are, dude,” commented Tucker.

“Pot, meet kettle.” Sam flicked the back of both their heads.

“Now that pick-on-Danny time is over, I need to go!”

Tucker grinned and said, “We want all the details on your date soon as you get back!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Danny waved them off as he half-jogged out of the building. He pulled out his phone to text Jazz.

Danny: Did you get mom and dad out of the house? Jazz: Yep. Jazz: They’re coming to the school for a parent-teacher conference Danny: Thanks! Danny: You’re a life saver! Jazz: Have fun on your date Danny: How many times do I have to tell you! Danny: Not. A. Date.

Running was too slow. Danny ducked out of sight of the road and let the coolness of his transformation wash over him before flying home. So much faster.

And sure enough, when he reached home, the GAV was nowhere to be seen. With a sigh of relief, he phased through the walls right to the lab and through the portal. Even in the ever changing realms, Danny knew the path to Jason’s lair by heart; it’s location shone like a beacon in his awareness.

Something must have been on his side, because he was approaching the island within a few minutes of passing through the portal. From his core, he sent out a greeting. A moment later, he got a return pulse from Jason followed by the ghost himself.

“Jay!” Danny trilled a greeting.

“Hey there, human-boy. Ready to have your ass kicked?” Jason grinned and tossed an ectoblast his way.

Danny laughed and blocked it with ice. “I’ve got a different idea, actually. What would you say to me introducing you to another ghost? I got permission to take you to his lair and you’ll absolutely love it. He may be a bigger book nerd than you.”

Jason hesitated and looked over his shoulder at his lair.

But Danny had anticipated that. Jay was still a young ghost and obviously hesitant to leave his lair. He gave a loud whistle. “Don’t worry so much, a friend of mine will be able to look after your lair for you.”

Before Jason could even ask what he meant, excited barking just barely preceded Cujo jumping onto Danny’s chest and licking his face.

Laughing, Danny asked in baby-talk. “Who’s a good boy, who’s a good boy!” Cujo barked at him.

He’d never introduced Jay to Cujo before and Jay was watching them with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“Not my dog, he chose me. But he can protect your lair. Right, Cujo? You’ll protect Jason’s lair? And come get us if something happens you can’t fight off?” Cujo barked and rolled over to show off his belly and Danny rubbed it roughly.

Jay laughed. “No offense, but how good a guard dog is he? He seems too friendly.”

Danny looked up and let his grin turn a bit sharper before moving a bit away from Cujo. “Oh, he’s the best. Cujo, big!” he ordered.

Cujo’s happy yaps turned to menacing growls as he grew to his large form, drool dripping from sharpened teeth.

Jason’s mouth fell open and he stared. “Wow. How common is it for ghosts to be able to change shape like that?”

“No idea. Queen Dora can transform into a dragon. And Bernard can take any shape he wants. Spectra goes from a black shadow to a human-looking middle aged woman. Each is a bit different.”

“Every time I think I get used to this place… Are you sure my lair will be safe with him?”

Cujo transformed back into a puppy and ran to Jason barking, circling him once before licking his face, too.

“Here, I’ll prove it. Cujo! What do you do if someone comes close?”

Cujo’s barking got deep again as he grew in size.

“Good boy! And what do you do if someone attacks who you can’t fight off?”

Cujo shrunk down and ran to Jason and nipped at his clothing, trying to drag him towards the island.

Jason grinned. “You are a good boy, aren’t you? Keep it safe for me? We won’t be gone too long.” Though after saying that, he did look up at Danny as if to confirm.

“You’ll wish we were staying longer when you see the place. Jazz knows where I am and can distract my parents for tonight. But I do have to get back and sleep and show my face at some point.”

“Got it.” Jason turned his back to Danny to look over his lair. “Then I think I’m good to go. Should I bring anything?”

“Nah, you’re fine just as you are. Now, come on! We don’t want to waste any time!”

Jason turned back to face him and as he did, his outfit transformed once more into his Robin uniform. His flaming hair matched the uniform perfectly. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Danny smirked. “Let’s see how well you can keep up.” Without waiting an instant more, he flew off. Not at his top speed, but still quite fast. He laughed as Jason cursed him and did his best to keep up.

The Zone must have been in a good mood today because it didn’t take them long to get to Ghost Writer’s lair. Danny paused before crossing the border and flared his aura to announce his and Jason’s approach. Jason copied the gesture a moment later.

Around them, the very air seemed to grow heavy. It felt like someone was looking right through them and examining their very souls. Next to him, Danny could sense Jason tense as he crouched into a defensive stance.

“Calm down, Jay. He’s just checking us out before letting us into his lair.” By the time he’d finished speaking, the heaviness lifted and a sense of Welcome washed over them. The door to the library swung open.

Without waiting for Jay to ask what was going on, Danny grabbed his hand and pulled him into the building where Ghost Writer was waiting just past the doorway.

“So you must be the young Jason that Danny”—his lip curled just a bit as he said Danny’s name and Danny tried not to flinch—“told me so much about. Welcome. I am Ghost Writer.”

Danny looked over to Jason to see what he thought. Jason was staring past Ghost Writer with his mouth wide open. His clothing had transformed back into his civvies and his hair was a burning white inferno on top of his head. Something must have penetrated his brain because he gave himself a little shake. His eyes met Danny’s briefly and Danny had to stifle a laugh at how wide and shocked they look.

But then he fixed his attention on Ghost Writer. “This is your lair? It is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it. How’d you get so many books?”

Danny’s once-enemy smiled at the boy. The expression looked out of place on his face. “Every book ever written ends up in my domain.”

Somehow, Jason’s mouth managed to fall open even further. “Every book? How is that possible?”

“Yes, every book. I’ll give you a tour and explain. But first, the rules for all who enter my domain. You will treat every book with care—”

“Of course!” interrupted Jason who had gone back to staring at the high ceilings and walls covered in bookshelves.

“—the instant you damage a book is the last time you will be allowed to visit,” continued Ghost Writer as if he’d never been interrupted. “You may not remove any books from my domain. Danny is not allowed to touch a book. Nor to look at any too closely nor to breathe too hard near them.”

That finally caught Jason’s attention. “What? Why not?”

“He damaged a book.”

Danny looked down and rubbed the back of his neck, unable to meet Jason’s eyes. He wasn’t proud of his actions that day.

“What? Danny!” scolded Jason.

“Indeed. The only reason he is allowed back here is because he apologized profusely and begged for the chance to take you here. He indicated you have given him a new appreciation for literature which I wish to encourage to keep the rest of my collection safe. Now, follow me and I will show you how to find what you’re looking for.”

Danny tried to pay attention as Ghost Writer showed them around. He really did. But the tour took so long and they traveled through room after room after room. And these were only the books written in English!

Jason didn’t get bored, though. He continued to stare at the walls in wonder, every so often catching Danny’s eyes. Danny liked watching him. Far more interesting than learning which time period or geographical location the current shelves contained.

Finally, after what felt like ages to Danny, the returned to the first room.

“The two of you may stay for three hours. Depending on your behavior, future visits may be longer, shorter, or prohibited.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll definitely make the most of it. Your domain is beyond amazing.” Without wasting any more time on pleasantries, Jason grabbed Danny’s hand and pulled him out of the first room through a doorway.

Once they were out of sight, Jason stopped and stared at Danny. He opened and closed his mouth before swallowing as if unsure what to say. They were still holding hands.

Danny laughed self-consciously. “So, do you like it?”

Jason continued to stare at him. “I…” he started. He shook his head, but his eyes were still wide in wonder. Jason bit his lip and then lunged forward. The hand that wasn’t holding his cradled the back of his head as Jason pressed their mouths together hard.

His lips were hot, far hotter than a human’s, but before Danny could react even enough to close his eyes, Jason was pulling away. Danny tightened his grip on his hand to keep him from retreating entirely.

In fact, he took a step closer until scant inches separated them. Moving much more slowly than Jason had, he leaned forward and brushed their lips together softly. Jason twitched, but didn’t pull away, so Danny did it again. Only this time, he didn’t pull away.

Jason’s hand once more found their way to the back of his head. Danny closed his eyes as his lips parted slightly. Jay’s tongue probed, and Danny met it with his own. Deep in his chest, his core pulsed out a message affection, happiness.

Jason replied in kind. Thank you, amazing, disbelief, affection. Kissing a ghost was nothing like kissing a human. The waves of emotion made the connection so much deeper in one way. And even physically, Jason’s mouth was so much warmer than a human’s due to his fire core.

And they didn’t need to stop to breathe. That was fantastic.

However, there time here was limited, so with a pulse of disappointment, Danny pulled away. “We are definitely going to be doing that some more,” Danny said, though he sent out a non-verbal question of you want?, “But you’ve less than three hours here. Make the most of it.”

Jason’s responding pulse of yes, more made Danny grin. Verbally, he added, “Danny… This is… I… Thank you.”

“Of course.” Danny laughed as if it had been easy to set up. “Now go have fun, book nerd.”

Jason tweaked his nose, leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the lips, and rushed to the nearest bookshelf to see what he could find.

Danny crossed his legs and floated in a sitting position as he watched Jason take down two books and open them both as he examined what was written. “Danny! He has earlier drafts of Bleak House! This is so crazy. I wonder how much Dickens changed from his initial draft to the final printing?”

“Well, looks like now you can find out.”

“I can find out. Holy shit.” Jason sent out another wave of Thank you, affection.

The sentiment warmed Danny up just as much as their physical touch.

----------

Next

Tag list:

@echoednonny, @britcision

[avirxy]

That’s a gnarly splinter

[animoorphs]

would anyone care to read what i have so far for my animorphs fanfic

it's an au where instead of tobias getting stuck as a hawk rachel gets stuck as a yeerk

[youchangedmedestiel]

I happen to have a fic with two endings.

I can't choose the one I prefer. One ending has light angst and the other is funnier. And I just... can't choose.

So I'll guess I'll post the fic with the two possible endings in different chapters and like that YOU can choose which one you prefer because I can't. It just gives you more content so I guess it's fine.

[wikipedie]

grief is like a really ugly couch

I think grief is like a really ugly couch. It never goes away. You can decorate around it; you can slap a doily on top of it; you can push it to the corner of the room—but eventually, you learn to live with it. ― Jodi Picoult, Leaving Time

[itstimeforstarwars]

And for my next chapter, I will present

[starry-blue-echoes]

so guess who Actually Managed To Finish Another Snippet :D

I've been Pondering exactly how the arrival to Air Supplena in Joseph's part of Star Swap would go for a while now, and it's kinda funny because going into planning for this one my initial idea was "Joseph Being Way Too Chill About Terrifying Things." However, then I realised that 1) with how I set up the time left, this was going to be in Joseph's last 24 hours of presumed life and 2) he's been repressing hard this whole time and I think he deserves a chance to actually express it all :)

so without further ado, here's 2.3k words of Joseph Having A Fucking Breakdown Breakdown

-----------

“I’ve used Moody to check the whole island. No one’s been here for weeks.” Abbacchio glared, arms crossed. “So spill, Jojo. If this is where you’re supposed to meet someone, where are they?”

He……

He didn’t have an answer for that.

For whatever reason, no one was here, and they hadn't been here for a while.

There weren’t any Hamon Users.

Sure it had been nearly a century but……

Surely they would’ve taught more people.

They couldn’t- Surely he and Caesar hadn’t been Coach’s last students.

Coach was dedicated and Caesar was stubborn, and the two of them had basically dedicated their entire lives to the art. Sure, given how long it’s been Lisa Lisa could be…… but Caesar had also mentioned Hamon could extend life spans! Surely he would’ve been able to make it to his 80s. They wouldn't just up and abandon Air Supplena without a really good reason-

But then from a small, dark corner of his mind he’d been trying to keep quiet ever since he woke up here, a thought reared its head.

……

Un…… unless……

Unless they didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Up until now he’d been assuming Giorno had swapped places with him but……

But he didn’t know for certain.

What if he didn’t.

What if the body of Joseph Joestar remained uninhabited.

What if the day of the fight came and he wasn’t there for the Pillarmen to battle.

What if they-

Oh.

Oh god-

They couldn’t- No, no, they were- Caesar and Coach were stronger than he was, plus they had Messina and Loggins as back up, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to fight them one on one-

But Joseph didn’t know.

“Jojo?” distantly he heard someone call out to him but their voice was insignificant to everything running through his head.

They were-

They-

They-

“FUCK!”

Abbacchio let out a curse as he scrambled back, just barely managing to avoid the small explosion of rubble as Joseph slammed his fist into the wall. Beneath the cacophony from the newly made (and rather sizable) dent in the wall Joseph could hear the snap of broken bone and wet sound of split skin, could see the blood staining the stone where his hand had connected, but he didn’t even have time to feel the pain before the Hamon sewed his wounds back shut.

“This- This is just PERFECT.” Joseph hissed, his still slightly bloodied hand combing through his hair and tugging at his scalp.

His last chance, his last hope, not only was it gone but so was everyone else, they were gone and it was probably his fault, he didn’t know what was happening, the Pillarmen weren’t here but they might’ve been, they clearly knew the location of the island and there was all the damage he’d seen down by the training rings that couldn’t have been possible for a Hamon User to cause-

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bucciarati beginning to step toward him.

“Jojo, whatever’s wrong, I’m sure we can think of something to-” Bucciarati began, but the rage the grief flooding Joseph’s veins was too scalding, too bubbling, too consuming to even entertain the idea of listening.

Because hearing Bucciarati say those words, hearing offers of a solution, that suddenly made everything real, it wasn’t in his head, something was wrong wrong wrong it wasn’t supposed to be this way-

Deep down, Joseph felt something inside him, something that had been growing strained ever since the rings were placed deep inside of him, break.

“WHAT, BUCCIARATI?!?” He shouted, whipping around. “WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY DO?!?! YOU CAN'T FIX EVERY PROBLEM AND GUESS WHAT, THIS IS ONE OF THEM!!!!!”

The man flinched back, eyes wide and obviously shocked by the outburst. He blinked as if he’d never seen Joseph before, and something Joseph could only describe as recognition settled behind the man’s eyes.

“Hey-!” Mista stepped forward with a slight glare on his face, no doubt in defense of Bucciarati, but Joseph just barreled through whatever he was going to say.

“MY TEACHERS ARE DEAD,”

He’d never gotten along with them but he could respect them, they were just doing their jobs, just trying to keep him alive even though it was now going to be useless in the end

“MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD,”

Caesar, Smokey, Suzie, he hadn’t known them for very long but he’d never felt so much comfort around another person near his age before, never had to watch his words or act prim and proper, he could just be himself and now they were gone gone gone

“MY FAMILY IS DEAD,”

Oh god he wasn’t going to be able to say goodbye to Granny or Uncle Speedwagon was he. He was going to die without ever getting a chance to say “I love you” and “thank you for raising me” and “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble and worrying you” and

“I’M GOING TO BE DEAD IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS,”

He was going to die he was going to die he was going to die he was going to die he was going to die he was

“AND IT'S ALL! MY! FAULT!” 

His shout was punctuated by a crackcrackcrack beneath him, spiderwebs opening up in the stone beneath his feet.

Bucciarati held his hand out to stop Mista and looked at Joseph with a confused frown on his face. “What do you-”

“I was supposed to BE HERE!” Joseph continued, beginning to pace. Hamon crackled and popped off of his skin, hungry for some enemy to attack but finding nothing but the open air around him and the hard stone beneath his feet. “I’m the one they took interest in, I’m the one they made a deal with, I’M the one they wanted to kill, so if I wasn’t here when they arrived for our fight, who KNOWS what they did-”

“Jojo, stop.” Bucciarati interrupted. “Who wants to kill you?”

A manic laugh tore itself out of his throat. “It’s not like it fucking matters any more-”

“Jojo.” Bucciarati said, his voice was firm, firm like when he was giving orders, firm like when they were on the boat fighting Zucchero, firm like Granny’s. “Who-”

But then Bucciarati made a mistake.

He tried grabbing his shoulder.

It was for barely a second, maybe not even that long. 

But it was enough.

The man let out a cry of pain, hand recoiling as though he’d been burned he had, he had, he’d hurt him, he hurt the man who’d shown him so much care, so much kindness, this was how he was repaying him. 

Joseph should’ve cared.

Joseph should’ve cared that he accidentally hurt someone, should’ve cared about the way the others bristled with shouts of alarm and Stand Energy hovering above their skin, should’ve cared that he had so little control that something little as a shoulder touch set him into fight or flight.

But drowning in his spiral of grief and rage and terror it was barely a blip on his radar.

“What could I POSSIBLY tell you that could make things right?!?” he shouted instead.

He was weak weak weak he hadn’t been strong enough before, wasn’t strong enough now-

“Do you want to know about the fact I was weak?” he continued, and if glares were enough to kill he wouldn't have been surprised if Bucciarati dropped dead right then and there. “Want to know I was a fucking IDIOT who didn’t realize how out of my depth I was?!? That in the end the best I could do was lead them away before they dealt the finishing blow to my friend and Uncle?!?”

It had hurt, it had hurt, it had hurt so badly to leave them behind but it was for their own good he was luring him away they’d have a chance to run, to flee, to get to safety

“Do you want to know how 33 days ago, I made a stupid agreement to save my own skin?!? How they sealed the deal with fucking poisonous rings they shoved into my heart and throat that would only come off if I beat them in a fight?!??” His voice should’ve been hoarse but the rush of Hamon through his veins still ran strong, flooding and filling every inch of him to the brim, yet it still couldn’t warm the cold phantom weight in his chest. “How I trained and trained and trained for week after week with a death sentence hanging over my head?!?! How if I didn’t fight I would die, how if I did fight and wasn’t good enough I’d die anyways?!?!?!”

The stone under his feet cracked again, this time much larger and much louder. The only thing that kept him up was the Hamon beneath his feet suspending him in the air, just like he practiced in the destroyed dead gone practice fields.

“How it was all WORTHLESS in the end?!?!?” His eyes hurt, his eyes were burning like twin suns in his face. “How I woke up in the middle of fucking Naples with no idea how I got there and a ticking clock for my death?!?! I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HERE, BUCCIARATI, AND BECAUSE I WASN’T EVERYONE MIGHT BE DEAD AND NOW I-!” 

But his traitorous voice broke and shattered before he could continue, cracking like glass into nothingness.

But he was scared, he was so scared, so scared to die, he didn’t want to die, please he didn’t want to die-

His eyes burned and it finally hit him just how wet his cheeks were.

How uneasy and broken his breathing had become, bad enough he was now standing at the bottom of the cracked hole he’d inadvertently made.

“……I can’t do anything,” he whispered, and despite the change in volume it felt so much louder than anything he’d said before. His chest wouldn’t obey his commands, shuddering up and down with only a fraction of the air he took in staying inside before it was forced out. “This….. this was my last hope. But they’re all gone and I…… I can’t do anything to stop it.”

I’m going to die and I’m going to be helpless to stop it.

The silence was crushing him.

It was big and heavy and loud god how could silence be so loud it was supposed to be the opposite but here it was filling his ears filling his head, it hurt the quiet hurt someone say something please please please don’t let it be quiet quiet quiet like the empty halls that might as well be filled with the ghosts of the dead-

He turned to the others, desperate to find something there, some kind of confirmation that they weren’t gone too-

And Abbacchio looked like he’d been struck by lighting and Mista’s eyes were so wide they looked about ready to roll out of his head and Fugo looked ready to join him in smashing the floor and Narancia looked ready to cry with big shiny eyes and Trish was crying with silent rivers running down her cheeks and-

And Bucciarati was looking at him with a face so blank that was impossible he wasn’t using it to hide something

And the emotion filled haze in his mind cleared, the world snapping back into painful clarity like that, and suddenly everything Joseph had just said hit him in an instant.

Shit.

Shit.

“I shouldn’t have said all that.” He said to no one in particular, eyes wide and a new spike of terror clawing its way up his throat.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, of course they would react this way, they think he’s just some 15 year old and not a time traveling body snatcher, oh god oh fuck he’d just shouted at Bucciarati, the man just wanted to help and he got angry at him, he fucking shocked him-

“H-Hey it-“ his voice cracked again, the smile plastered on his face felt so fake it was almost painful and no matter what he did he couldn’t get the tears to stop. “It’s not all bad. At least I- I’ll be able to meet everyone soon!”

His words were painful to hear to his own ears and so very obviously the wrong thing to say yet nothing else came to mind to fix it. The grin on his face felt almost manic as he forced it to stay straight, but it still wobbled at the corners and his lips threatened to let loose a scream. His hands were shaking and no matter how much he willed them they wouldn’t stop-

Bucciarati started walking toward him.

“B-Bucciarati,” he stuttered out. “Hey, I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell, I shouldn’t have hurt you, you just wanted to help, I-”

Warm arms wrapped around him.

Joseph’s breath hitched.

He was an adult. He was 18 years old. Giorno’s body and all the jabs Caesar made about his immaturity be damned, he was supposed to act like it.

But right in this moment, gently held in Bucciarati’s arms with his head tucked under the man’s chin, he couldn’t help but remember all those times Granny and Uncle Speedwagon would do the same when he was younger.

How long had it been since he was small enough to be held like this? Since he’d been small enough for his whole body to be enveloped in the warmth of another person, completely shielded away from the harsh world all around them.

“I’m so sorry, Jojo.”

It was four words. Four simple words barely spoken above a whisper and meant for no ears except for his own.

And yet, they held the weight of the world itself.

His knees buckled and shook under the weight until they gave out, all but collapsing in Bucciarati’s arms, the sound he made more reminiscent of an injured animal than a person. 

But the man’s arms held firm, easily supporting his weight and tucking him closer into his warmth.

He was going to die.

He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it.

“……Bucciarati?” 

The whisper felt like it was scraping his throat raw as more tears dropped down his face. The warmth from Bucciarati’s body wasn’t enough to stop the cold, cold, cold weight wrapped around his heart. 

“I’m scared.”

[gothamcityneedsme]

ok. I feel pretty good in saying that I don't feel good about FLED until around the middle-ish of chapter 3. But that was out of necessity. The first three chapters are already 18k words, and it's a LOT of set up for the time loop premise. Even back when I was starting it in 2018, I knew I was rushing the beginning and trying to condense it as much as I could so I could move on.

The place I wanted to go was the stage right before Flynn is kidnapped, and then TO that point, because Flynn getting kidnapped is the real point of rising action.

I won't consider editing/rewriting FLED (and tbh actually editing FLED was always on my radar, I was writing it in part planning to use it to practice editing) until the story is finished. So obviously not on my docket right now.

Anyways. There are only a few scenes in the early part that I think are pretty strongly defined and that I wouldn't touch much--the scene with Lucifer in chapter 2, and the second half of Nanashi and Flynn's conversation in chapter 3. The first half needs some work, it is burdened down by the utter clunk that the rest of chapter 1-2 are as well.

Getting rid of that clunk though would require a lot of restructuring, although I already have ideas on how I'd do it, but as I said, it would extend the word count by a LOT, even though I would also be removing a lot of parts, I would be largely restructuring them into the new context. Touching the same themes in different ways. etc.

It's interesting to think about and revisit. I am considering trying to get the next chapter out, so I'm revisiting it as a whole to remember where I was.

Just, whew. I wouldn't say it 'gets good' until that halfway-ish point in chapter 3. Chapter 4 on though I'm confident I'll be fairly happy with even now, because that was when I finally wasn't rushing and only working on setup--that's where the story actually is, lol.

[gothsuguru]

writing fluff is so hard esp for a character you haven’t written for before + other characters in the fic 😭

[moralesmilesanhour]

Ouuu and while we're on the subject of the lack of gen fics no one talks about how only writing characters through the lens of romance can sometimes make it harder to write that character on their own (without turning it into gut-wrenching angst lol) 😭 like once you get used to writing a certain way it's like all your ideas are gone shdjdlk

[ereborne]

What is a Monday? A miserable little pile of obligations.

semester turnover restructure

generate/send out error reporting

figure out how to separate out unique counts

create polite reply to Massive Dick Move email

finish the bad book >:(

bò kho (not an obligation. dinner)

laundry

lizard bath

[danidoesathing]

I agonized over which to pick because I just want to ask about all your fics in progress!! I narrowed it down to two and that's just going to have to be ok

the world is staged and the script is set (you cannot change the ending)

Jukeboxes and Maple Syrup

its very funny you pick those two because those like. two of the only three on that list that ISNT lord huron related lmao. those are both hatchetfield fics ive started in secret. regardless those are the main ones im working on right now SO

the world is staged and the script is set (you cannot change the ending) is a fic based on the ending of TGWDLM where like. you know how in the credits where Emma starts begging the audience for help? and like. you know how in TTO how the audience is also referred to by Bliklotep's title? soooo the fic is the ending but i throw him in the mix and ramp the already existing horror of "begging for help and being ignored a cheering crowd" by going "realizing said crowd has been treating your suffering and death as a source of amusement right before you die". only fun times in hatchetfield

"She stumbles to the edge of the stage. The stitches in her leg have come undone and there’s blood seeping through the bandage. That is real. Emma is real, and she needs to help right now."

Jukeboxes and Maple Syrup is a fic that takes place directly after the end of Yellow Jacket that focuses on Daniel and Sophia like. right after the ending. we dont really see them after the Otho fight and we still have no clue is Sophia is even ALIVE and also i miss them dearly. the fic mostly focuses on Daniel trying not to have a panic attack in Miss Retros because one friend is missing after almost dying and the other is in the hospital after also almost maybe dying and he doesn't really know what to do. Not a whole lot of plot it's mostly him trying to deal with that whole. mess. luckily he's got Miss Holloway and Duke to make things a bit easier (responsible adults? in MY hatchetfield? its honestly only these two but its better than nothing)

"He feels so stupid. Sophia is in the hospital and she might never wake up. Hannah is missing and could be kidnapped or dead or worse. And he’s just sitting here in a cozy diner with pancakes and orange juice, and Hannah’s Jacket but not Hannah and not Sophia."

[raksh-writes]

Oh to write a line that is such an emotional punch to the gut you have to take a break and maybe even go on a walk, like oof

[kaatiba]

me to me: write! write! write! write! write!