#this was done for a long time and I just remembered it exists whoops

[ivorada]

missing star

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

How Could You Think, Darling, I'd Scare So Easily?

Painland Week Day 2 - Myths/Legends

Charles/Edwin - post-canon

y'all remember how I said a few days ago that day 2 for @painlandweek was almost finished? Yeah,, when I went to bed two nights ago, this fic had 500 words. When I woke up again, I thought, hey, just write another 500 words and get back to it to flesh it out sometime later. Yeah, I finished this at 3am and it turned out to be *checks word count* almost 4000 words! Whoops?

Word count: 3726

ao3 link will be added

Title is from Hozier's "Francesca"

TW: body horror (Charles changing forms)

summary:

Hell has made them stronger together, Edwin is sure of that. It has, however, also made Charles anxious to leave Edwin alone for longer periods of time. When Charles doesn't return home for hours and neither Crystal nor Edwin know where he might be, everything leads to a familiar witch who wants to find out how strong the bond between the two ghosts really is when tested.

It had been exactly two months, three weeks and five days since they escaped Hell, found and lost enough to last another lifetime or two and realised the possibility of relative peace existed for them in the form of a trans-dimensional being who had never learnt what “tranquillity” even meant. Edwin agreed that most times, there was too much paperwork to be done to even try to achieve some peace of mind. 

For the most part, though, it was just an excuse. In reality, Edwin struggled with the idea that he could stop running now. After decades of looking over his shoulder, it took an immense amount of effort to direct his gaze at what’s in front of him.

Looking ahead now, all Edwin could see was the empty office, dust dancing over the furniture. The boxing gloves lay forgotten on a table near the entrance door and the football Charles always played with inside despite how much Edwin complained haphazardly rolled under the couch. Everything was still and that was only the beginning of the long list Edwin formulated in his mind of Things That Were Wrong.

Exhibit B: Charles was nowhere to be found. Which, while not particularly sitting right with Edwin, was not an unusual occurrence these days. Charles spent a lot of time with Crystal, helping her get used to her new flat or just keeping her company, watching movies. Crystal always made sure to extend her invitation to Edwin as well and he agreed every once in a while, sitting next to Charles on Crystal’s small but cosy couch, thighs touching. He also enjoyed his time spent with Crystal. She had grown on him and he was quite glad to call her his friend. Edwin lent her the detective novels he loved and in return he listened to what she called “podcasts” about psychology. 

But even so, he knew that the needling to “come over to hers with me, yeah, mate? The movie’s s'posed to be aces” was solely Charles’ doing because he did not like letting him out of his sight ever since Hell. This resulted in Charles excessively checking in on him via mirror every few hours, which most times was met by Edwin with a fondly annoyed eye roll. Edwin was quick to give in when confronted with Charles’ pleading eyes. It was not like he was any different in that regard. Spending time with them was no hardship whatsoever and Edwin had to admit that he found it quite sweet how Charles would look after him.

Which brought him to exhibit C: Charles had been gone for more than five hours and had not checked in on Edwin once in this time. Which had Edwin more worried than was probably warranted. Charles would be just fine, he was sure. He would just take a quick trip to Crystal’s and then he could calmly get back to his work for the Night Nurse. 

Edwin stood up and put the files under their paperweight. Mirror travel had been one of the most fascinating aspects of being a ghost. It required to be precise and focused while not putting any strain on his energy. It took just a fraction of a second until he found himself standing in the middle of Crystal’s living room.

“Holy fuck!” The resounding thump alerted Edwin to their psychic who was clutching her shoulder that she probably hit against the door frame she was currently leaning against, mouth twisted in pain and eyes wide with shock and irritation. “Edwin! How many times do we have to have this conversation until it sticks?”

“Yes, yes, no sudden mirror jumping into your room. I know.” Edwin pursed his lips, looking around. Better get to the point quickly.  “Is Charles here?”

“No, he isn’t. I don’t know where loverboy is, why?”

“He is not home either, has he said anything?”

Crystal flopped down on her couch. “Well, he said he wanted to come ‘round today to help me fix the sink but he didn’t show.” Reaching onto the coffee table for her phone, she checked the time. “Yeah, Charles said he’d be here around two.”

Edwin felt his stomach lurch in anxiety. It was half past five. A chilled silence filled the room as they looked at each other in question.

“Let me grab my jacket.”

“Doesn’t seem any different, right?” 

The agency lay completely untouched, nothing out of the ordinary. Normally, this would ease Edwin’s nerves, seeing as it was his sanctuary, his safe space along with Charles. Now, though, this also meant that there were no clues as to where Charles had gone. 

“Quite,” he agreed. Walking in circles around their desk, he eventually walked up to the window and peered outside. “Maybe there is something outside, he didn’t leave through the mirror.” 

They made their way downstairs, Crystal barely holding onto the railing to not slip on the steps in her hurry while Edwin simply opted to let himself fall through the floor to get to the entrance door as soon as possible. The night creeped in steadily, the shadows growing longer, twisting at their ankles. Their office was located a little off the beaten path, but not too far. When they first started flat-hunting, they were conscious that they had to balance on an incredibly fine line of finding a place just secluded enough to not bear the brunt of the daily London tourism but also don’t attract anyone who might be searching for lost places to scout out. 

This resulted in a beautiful view from their window but dark alleyways that led to seemingly nowhere, cobblestones streets with missing stones and cracks in them. The walls towered over them here, making it harder to distinguish the darkening sky from the roofs and edges. Their living neighbour had hung their bed sheets on the washing lines on the balcony and whenever Edwin blinked and tried to bring his eyes back into focus, they reminded him of David the Demon when they first exorcised him. 

It was dark, dirty and daunting. Nothing looked to be amiss. Except, of course, for the backpack that was sloped against the gutter. Edwin snatched it up and true enough: Charles’ bag of tricks. The straps showed various scratches and the top was stained. Decidedly not a condition Charles would leave his most prized possession in. Crystal was aware of this as well and carefully reached out to read it.

The few seconds that passed while Crystal’s eyes turned white and she stared into the distance were the most agitating of his existence.

Crystal gasped, letting the bag fall to the floor again, supporting herself on her knees. Edwin crouched next to her with his hands fluttering around her, not exactly knowing what he was supposed to do to help her. 

Resurfacing, she stood up again, shooting Edwin a small grateful smile that quickly blinked away again.

“Esther’s back,” she announced and tucked her jacket tighter around her. “She ambushed him here and took him.”

And Edwin’s world broke into pieces, shattering from the sky onto the puddle-ridden street and breaking the moonshine.

He didn’t say anything at first, every word vanished from his mind.

“I might know where they are, though. Or, I can find out.”

“How?” His voice sounded rough - harsh, but Crystal didn’t get angry. She knew that this was not borne of anger but sheer gripping despair.

“She had a business card on her and when Charles tried to defend himself, he caught a glimpse.”

This, more than anything, gave Edwin the determination needed to hoist the backpack onto his shoulder.

“Let us not waste any time, then. Do you think this internet you have might be of help?”

“For sure, Edwin,” she answered, petting his shoulder.

If Edwin hadn’t been out of his mind worrying about Charles, leaving him with sparsely any mental capacities to think about anything else, then he could have admitted that Coupeville, Washington was a tranquil but charming little town. With its little art stores and cafes, it gave a delightfully unassuming appearance.

Edwin hated every moment. For the sake of not leaving Crystal alone - he tried to silence the voice in his head that whispered you couldn’t take care of Charles either -, he had suffered through another flight, a ferry and multiple train rides. 

Crystal huffed as she dragged her suitcase up the stairs.

“She couldn’t have been less creative, huh? Relocating one ferry-ride away.” Which was true. Port Townsend could be reached in less than an hour. 

Personally, he could not care less whether she called this town or the bloody Empire State Building her home. All he cared about was getting Charles back as soon as possible.

They quickly checked into a hotel to get rid of the suitcase. Insisting that she had slept enough while travelling, they immediately headed to the address that Crystal had found out using the business card - a brewery. 

It must have been well visited only a few weeks ago, the dust had not properly set yet. But the lights were out and the doors were barricaded. Quickly nodding at Edwin, Crystal got on the way to find a window she could climb through while Edwin seized the opportunity to phase through the doors. Darkness enveloped him and he could not hear a single sound. 

He slowly made his way across the reception area, trying to get a feeling for how big the building really was and where Esther might have been hiding in here. If there was actually any connection to Charles’ disappearance and this place, anyway. But Edwin couldn’t stop and think about this very real possibility. 

Focusing on his surroundings, he noticed suspicious lines behind a grandfather clock on his left. And sure enough, upon examining them up close, there was a small door hidden behind it. Anxious excitement coursed through his body and he waited impatiently for Crystal’s arrival. 

“Searched for the entrance for celebrities, did you?”

“Shut it. Let’s move this clock.”

Despite taking a few tries, at last they found themselves faced with the entirety of the door. The handle was made out of iron, but Edwin didn’t hesitate to grab it despite the pain and the indignant screech Crystal let sound. 

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You might still need that hand.”

“Irrelevant and inaccurate, I won’t lose it by touching iron for a few seconds, do not be silly. And regardless, Charles does matter more right now.” He tried to hide the red swelling on his palm but he was not ignorant enough to think that Crystal actually hadn’t noticed.

“A plan is needed. I would suggest you wait here, in case Esther is not here and tries to surprise us.” 

“Alright.” Crystal nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid, yeah? Charles wouldn’t forgive anyone if you got hurt.”

Least of all himself went unsaid but they both heard it all the same. 

Edwin inclined his head, opened the door and went inside.

The room unfolding in front of him was surprisingly spacious but shockingly empty except for the enormous carpet. Sliding onto his knees, he felt the cloth and without a doubt: laced with magic. It was easy enough to counter the spell that acted as both a means to soundproof and seal without a lock whatever lay underneath it. 

Moving it aside, he was faced with a basement and without a second thought, jumped down.

Like a moth to a flame, Edwin’s eyes immediately found Charles in the completely dark room. 

“Charles,” he breathed, the name echoing off the walls like a prayer. 

Charles was slumped against the far wall, hands in cuffs mounted next to head which was lolling unoriented. When he finally looked up, Edwin was met with a disbelieving smile. But before Edwin could reciprocate, a look of blinding terror coloured Charles’ face pale.

“Edwin!” he hissed, pulling at his cuffs which brought tears to his eyes in pain. “Please, please leave, Edwin, she’s after you.” 

Edwin didn’t even think about leaving without Charles. All it took was the span of a blink and Edwin fell to his knees beside him, trying to find magical leeway for him to put the cuffs out of action, but to his dismay he realised that Esther had reinforced her strategy, not just opting for simple iron but also a curse. 

“What? What do you mean by that?” he asked, only half listening as he mentally flipped through all the knowledge he had on this kind of magic.

“She,” Charles began, coughing, “She said she was impressed that we escaped last time. She wants to get rid of me first and see how much it’d raise your pain level to drain you again. Put a curse on me too, in case you showed up.”

That got Edwin’s attention. “What?! Do you feel alright? What kind of curse?” 

“Eh.” Charles’ head lolled to the side again, as if he was losing consciousness. “She wants to try sacrificing me and if you tried to rescue me, I’d turn in all kinds of horrible beasts. Wouldn’t want to hold onto me then, she said. Wants to see how far you’d go.” 

“Charles, Charles!” Edwin held him by the shoulders, careful not to jostle him. “I’d go anywhere for you, do you understand? A curse is not going to stop me.”

But Charles was barely there anymore, teetering on the edge of oblivion. “S’ planned for t’morrow. I won’t blame you for letting go, mate, you were scared for so long, don’t need any more of that, yeah?” And then he fell into something close to sleep but what most likely resembled unquiet rest.

There was nothing he could do against the cuffs, not with no grasp on what exact kind of magic he was dealing with and no idea how much time he had left until Esther would show up.

Edwin put a hand to Charles’ cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll hold onto you, Charles, stay strong.”

With one last glance to his love, he began climbing back out of the basement.

Upon reading up on locations with magical and sacrificial history in Washington, Edwin concluded that their best chance was a secluded part of coastline, the stony beach along with the clear view of the sky providing the perfect atmosphere. 

Edwin and Crystal were hiding in the underwood, watching Esther where she was standing near the shore, when suddenly, something moved right in front of them. 

Crystal gasped. “Did- did the path just move?”

Quickly, he shushed her. “No, there is no path,” he whispered, “there is only the beach. That is a snake.”

True enough: a black snake slithered up to the ritual circle Esther had set up. This snake was even bigger than the one in Esther’s house in Port Townsend and tied to its back, there was Charles.

“Okay,” he said softly, “wish me luck.”

Consolingly, Crystal put her hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need luck. Go get him. I’ll deal with Esther.”

They stood up and sneaked closer. From a safe distance, Crystal started tapping into her powers. Edwin trusted her, therefore he turned to Charles straight away. 

Edwin had also found a remedy for the cuffs’ curse, which made it easy to pull him off, hugging him close and making it just far enough away to give Crystal the opportunity to handle the snake.

Tightening his arms around Charles, who was panting against his neck, it didn’t take long until he could feel Charles’ body morph. 

When Charles told him that he’d turn into various beasts, Edwin had thought about what he had been afraid of when he was still alive. After seventy years in Hell, any scary children’s story he had heard lost its appeal. When he was ten, his neighbour’s children had told him a story about Spring-heeled Jack who’d haunt the streets of London but also other areas of Britain. They told him about his terrifying looks with his claws, jumping at passersby to scratch them and then back into the night. 

Thinking back now, though, Edwin would gladly face a hundred variations of Spring-heeled Jack all alone if it meant that Charles would be safe and sound in their office come next morning.

“I’ve got you, Charles,” he mumbled. He didn’t respond and as Edwin looked up at him, he came face-to-face with a doll version of Charles, his eyes unseeing and mouth twisted in a numb smile, a hollow feeling to his body. Edwin could see his own face reflected in Charles’ eyes, unease boiling slowly under his skin. Where Charles’ hold on him had been strong and desperate only moments ago, now it was stiff and felt like porcelain. Edwin’s fear of dolls was real and tangible but he was far more scared of letting Charles go and shattering him on the stones.

He pressed Charles closer to him.

He stayed in this form for a while until Edwin felt a shift again. This time, Charles resembled the demon that had dragged Edwin to Hell. He was a familiar sight albeit an unpleasant one, so Edwin just put his forehead to Charles’ shoulder and waited it out, the haze around them slowly dissipating.

Next was the thing one of his demons had traded him to. He maintained that it was worse than a demon, for the simple reason that there were characteristics one could apply to a demon, it was possible to create a definition and know what to expect when one encountered a demon. This thing, however, was less a physical form and more a foreboding. The feeling deep in the bones that something horrible was imminent and no matter how hard one would try to work against it, failure was predestined. A looming presence - a threat. There was a voice in the back of the mind, whispering knowingly about every mistake he ever made and it was all your fault, right? Niko dying, Charles getting hurt, Crystal being dragged along to all of this, having been in Hell? But you don’t need me to tell you that, you already think so.

It was a sick trick and his only enemy in this was his own mind. But Edwin had grown, he had realised that thinking something didn’t have to reflect reality. And while he did blame himself for all these things from time to time, it was a passing sorrow. None of the people involved in these thoughts would want him to condemn himself and after his second time in Hell, Edwin had understood that he needed to show himself self-respect as well. Hell was an error Edwin had had no control over.

He did, however, have control over not letting Charles fear that he would be afraid enough to leave him. Because he was quite sure that underneath these appearances, Charles was conscious of what was happening and scared out of his mind.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “It’s alright.”

The fourth form was the spider-doll-demon. Its many arms were gripping Edwin’s back, the dolls’ heads pressing into his chest and neck. Edwin tried to slow his breathing. He spent more than seventy years running away from this demon and being so close to it was associated with blinding pain, being torn apart over and over again. 

Maybe now was the time to finally stop running and face his fear head-on. And so he looked straight at it, staring lovingly beneath its surface where he knew Charles was.

One second to the other, the demon was gone. There was no other figure, but Edwin still felt Charles’ presence and he tensed up at once, realising what this particular fear resembled: Charles was invisible, gone from his sight. No means for him to see him again, the only thing left for him to do was anxiously grip where Charles’ shoulders were supposed to be and not let Charles jerk away if he saw the horror on Edwin’s face. This was the only shape that compelled Edwin to screw his eyes shut. 

Time passed until he felt Charles change one more time. This was the only one not tailored specifically to one of Edwin’s fears and it showed him that he had been right in assuming where Esther had drawn her inspiration for this act from.

Charles resembled a burning coal, the heat licking at Edwin’s skin. He embraced him tightly, stood up with him and dragged him into the water. Below the surface, he could see Charles turning back into himself, his bright eyes the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Nothing had ever felt as right as holding Charles in his arms.

Bubbles appeared in front of Charles’ mouth even though he didn't need to breathe and Edwin erupted spontaneously into laughter at the ridiculous sight of Charles trying to speak underwater. Despite being in the water, he felt himself get teary-eyed. He didn’t even try to fool himself into thinking that they would not both be sobbing messes as soon as they resurfaced. But for now all he needed to do was drink in Charles’ smile.

Back on the shore, Crystal was busy brushing off her jeans.

“Boys!” she yelled as soon as she saw them, running towards them and pulling them both into a hug at the same time. “Esther’s gone, let’s hope for good.”

“Yeah,” Charles whispered, putting one arm around Edwin’s hips. 

Crystal pulled back, smiling knowingly but in a comforting way. “So glad you’re both alright. I’ll go check to make sure no one here accidently saw me fighting a huge snake and a witch. Meet me at the hotel, yeah?” With that, she walked back in the direction of the trees. 

Charles turned to Edwin, smiling shyly. “So, you kept holding me,” he stated.

“Nothing has ever been easier, Charles.” He put his hands on Charles’ shoulders again. They fit so well there.

They hugged once more.

“You know,” Edwin mused, playing with Charles’ hair, “it was like Tam Lin.”

“Mhh?” Charles mumbled, he sounded tired. “What’s that?”

“A legendary Scottish ballad. Not letting your love go, no matter what.”

“Oh.” Charles’ eyes were wide. “Does that one end in tragedy too?”

Edwin smiled. “No, it ends precisely like this.” And Charles’ smile was brilliant as he leaned in and kissed Edwin.

[barryogg]

The story goes like this

Earth is captured by a technocapital singularity as renaissance rationalitization and oceanic whoops sorry, wrong script

The story goes like this: during the Cold War, the USSR pumped vast amounts of resources to recruit sympathetic people as agents to attack and subvert the US government. Didn't hurt that FDR was largely sympathetic to Stalin. The early wave resulted in the Soviets getting important military plans, e.g. for the nuclear bomb.

This infiltration was an actual thing that happened. This is worth reiterating, because people often claim that McCarthy was fighting against nonexistent enemies. Because people in Hollywood were often captivated by the ideas of communism, as artistic types often do, in retaliation they vilified him forever in popular culture. (Although it's worth noting that he probably was an abrasive person, so that didn't help).

By the 70s, there were multiple active leftist terrorist organizations in the US. And we're not talking about some 21st century "riot around, semi-accidentally set fire to some buildings, is you kill a guy it makes national news" weaksauce. No, it was

The 1970s underground wasn’t small. It was hundreds of people becoming urban guerrillas. Bombing buildings: the Pentagon, the Capitol, courthouses, restaurants, corporations. Robbing banks. Assassinating police. People really thought that revolution was imminent, and thought violence would bring it about. [...] Most ’70s of the bombings were done as protest actions. Unlike today’s jihadists, ’70s underground didn’t try to max body count. And ’70s papers didn’t really give a shit. A Puerto Rican group bombed 2 theaters in the Bronx, injuring eleven, in 1970. NYT gave it 6 paragraphs.

(Source. I really should finally read that book.)

The endeavors at this scale can't be backed by revolutionary fervor alone. You need logistics, you need financing, you need friendly lawyers. Weather Underground (originally Weatherman, but that -man suffix was deemed sexist. Plus ça change) sprung out from a socialist student organization.

By the time the USSR fell, the radical organizations have metastasized into vast patronage networks. Many became academics, lawyers. In some cases it was almost dynastic - remember Chesa Boudin, a New York DA? His father was a Weatherman, in jail for felony murder. He was pardoned by Cuomo in 2021.

There were more pardons. Some made by Bill Clinton. Some made by Obama. Remember back 10 years ago, when Hamilton was the Apex of lib culture. Lin-Manual Miranda took care to reserve seats for FALN bombers.

The last link goes to David Hines' twitter. There's another drum he's been banging repeatedly: righties don't know how to organize and cargo-cult it. They see all the successful actions of the left and assume that they just happen, ignoring the fact that, again - those require logistics, money, and backing of a sympathetic press and lawyers. Instead of building a network and then utilizing it, they start from shouting their intent publicly then beclown themselves.

But what if that was the case because the left had a multi-decade headstart in networking, due to support from a now-dead rival empire? What if the patronage networks built over multiple generations were suddenly broken? What if they were growing unopposed by the neocons, who happily let them be as long as the Republicans got to bomb some brown people while in power during the 90s and 00s?

If this was true, then the current upheaval would mean that the current victory of the radical MAGA wing was a fluke, but that it also was a victory made in an insanely uphill battle. It would mean that if the existing patronages are broken, going forward you'd need much less activation energy to win. That hundreds of little things that tipped the scales in one direction would just... cease.

It's hard to be surprised that some people are getting downright giddy these days. Sure, the networks are embedded so deeply that it takes a lot of collateral damage to rip them, but can you imagine, for the first time in your life, an actual victory?

-------------------------------------

Well, that's a story. I mean, the in-between points are real: the Rosenbergs are real, all the bombings in the 70s are real, the pardons of those are real. But weaving the common thread through them, that's a story one may tell. Every political faction has a story that they like to tell about themselves. This one's may not even be the story that most MAGAs tell themselves, many are probably perfectly content with torching the commons to own the libs.

But I think that this is approximately the story many people would tell about the past two weeks. ESR, Travis Corcoran, the aforementioned Hradzka. Eigen.

And I think that it's important to understand the stories people tell about themselves and their beliefs, even if you don't believe them.

[sainteclectic]

so. dragon wholesoul amirite folks. ahahg. i would have done lineart and colored this normalstyle but i do not have the energy and i wanted whole to be Glowy and Cool so muted colors and sketchy lineart at 60% opacity be upon ye GAH I FORGOT TO COLOR ONE OF THE SPIKES ON SOULS HEAD FUCKKKK just pretend thats red and pretend this is in a mirror nods nods

YES YAYY!!! I already rambled about my way too long thoughts WHOOPS but basically. I lovee the idea of a mix of seer nightwing and skywing culture just creating the weirdest religious complexes known to man. soul is seer coded to me due to well... does knowing what happens in the future count if it's because you're in a time loop? well whatever it does now. imagining he views his seer powers through the lens of skywing type religious beliefs. it would make sense assuming he grew up in skywing culture that he'd see foresight as an extension of their religious beliefs... maybe he has recurring prophecies about whole and mistakes that for him being the god sending them. or maybe he develops some kind of emotional attachment to the one he sees only in visions, that he has no idea if he even exists in the same world as him... much to think about

I think i only read up until uhh... darkness of dragons? i haven't read the books since I was maybe 15, so i only vaguely remember the lore... but! love these little guys. that series was truly a life changer for autistic middle schoolers everywhere, myself included

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Hello! I know a lot of FANTASTIC fics, and I think they should be read more!

I can't link anything on anon, so I'm only able to give the titles, summaries, and who wrote them :(

Two Too Cool Assholes Share A Body by TheInevitableSense Teen and Up, unfinished [WARNING for suicide and suicidal thoughts] "In which mistakes are made that can't be taken back. Mistakes that land Sans and Mettaton in another reality. One where they are share the same body. Whoops. Surrounded by friends that don't remember they even existed as separate entities, can our heroes find a way back to normal? More importantly, can they survive each other until then?" (god I love this fic so much.)

Sugarless Milk Chocolate by starrylitme Teen and Up, unfinished WARNING for suicidal ideation "“I’m really tired, so... You win, kid. I give up.” And, as awful as it is, those words are liberating. (In which Chara really needs a new method of making friends to murder with. Granted, this method they're going with might just work. Vaguely. Like, they have their moments at least. Circumstances are still pretty terrible, but it's still something.) (Also known as "Wow isn't that story title cute. Yeah uh, this story isn't very cute in context.") (This one is edgy but it's edgy in a way that's actually so cool and I love it so much and I can't stand how much I love it aghghg)

bone to be wild by SquareFriend Not Rated, oneshot (In my opinion this one can be rated as General Audiences, if you ignore all the cursing) "Sans and Undyne make a grocery run. It goes about as well as you’d expect." (Their dialogue feels very in-line with canon)

Core the Apple by Devcipher Teen and Up, finished WARNING for a suicide attempt and sparse energy consumption that could be interpreted as an eating disorder. "Nightmare has grown weary of the constant strife between himself and his brother. Every time he manages to fuel the ever-persistent need for negativity in his system, Dream and his friends immediately sap it out of him. So, Nightmare has decided he was done. If they believed the multiverse was better without negativity, he was okay with that. He'd well descended past apathy years ago." (I read this years ago, I should read it again.)

(I love these fics so so so so much)

I might suggest more in the future, because BOY do I have a lot of recommendations.

Oh, and here's one of my own fics: If I killed someone for you by SundogSkies Teen and Up, oneshot "Nightmare had given Killer an ultimatum. Either Killer cut ties with the human himself, or Nightmare would execute them. Because of course. Of course things would turn out like this. Why did he expect anything different? No matter how hard he tried, no matter what it was he loved, whether it be a rock or a human or a- a cat, he could never have anything good in his life. Not- ... ...Not while Nightmare was still alive. Or: Things have been building up for a long time. Maybe it was inevitable Killer would break like this. Or or: Did you know that canon Killer used to have cats, key words being 'used to'? It's a relevant detail." It's not the best, I'm aware, but I think it's still enjoyable.

I hope you have a good day :)

-SundogSkies

Howdy, & thanks for the recommendations! The fics being recommended are…

Two Too Cool Assholes Share A Body by TheInevitableSense (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

In which mistakes are made that can't be taken back. Mistakes that land Sans and Mettaton in another reality. One where they are share the same body. Whoops. Surrounded by friends that don't remember they even existed as separate entities, can our heroes find a way back to normal? More importantly, can they survive each other until then?

Sugarless Milk Chocolate by starrylitme (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

“I’m really tired, so... You win, kid. I give up.” And, as awful as it is, those words are liberating. (In which Chara really needs a new method of making friends to murder with. Granted, this method they're going with might just work. Vaguely. Like, they have their moments at least. Circumstances are still pretty terrible, but it's still something.) (Also known as "Wow isn't that story title cute. Yeah uh, this story isn't very cute in context.")

bone to be wild by SquareFriend (Not Rated, Complete)

Sans and Undyne make a grocery run. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Core the Apple by Devcipher (Teen And Up, Complete)

Nightmare has grown weary of the constant strife between himself and his brother. Every time he manages to fuel the ever-persistent need for negativity in his system, Dream and his friends immediately sap it out of him. So, Nightmare has decided he was done. If they believed the multiverse was better without negativity, he was okay with that. He'd well descended past apathy years ago.

If I killed someone for you by SundogSkies (Teen And Up, Complete)

Nightmare had given Killer an ultimatum. Either Killer cut ties with the human himself, or Nightmare would execute them. Because of course. Of course things would turn out like this. Why did he expect anything different? No matter how hard he tried, no matter what it was he loved, whether it be a rock or a human or a- a cat, he could never have anything good in his life. Not- ... ...Not while Nightmare was still alive. Or: Things have been building up for a long time. Maybe it was inevitable Killer would break like this. Or or: Did you know that canon Killer used to have cats, key words being 'used to'? It's a relevant detail.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

God it's been a while since we last spoke... sorry. Uh, hey Curlman. Uh, I'd say I was busy but in reality I simply forgot reality existed and was sorta in my own head for a while. Mostly drawing and listening to music. Discovered and became obsessed with a musical recently and have had that basically on loop, haha.

There were a few times where I wanted to say something to you but either but forgot to or my brain was too foggy to really process or articulate it... so it's kinda irrelevant now. Uh, Whoops?

I don't really know what to say, if l'm honest, I just wanted to talk to you. Not about anything in particular, just in general. I like talking to you. It's an odd sorta comfort to me. And I'm Not saying odd' as a bad thing. Just as in a little peculiar. In a good way, anyway. You're a friend to me, put simply.

I haven't been paying as much attention to the going ons here, -again, uh.. brain fog and and all that jazz.- I just have a general idea,

-again, brain fog,- so I may not remember things correctly or have a skewed perception of it. but I hope you're doing alright, at least. As usual. Glad you got better bandages and a new gown. I bet that feels much better, at least. (And as a certified purple enjoyer I am very pleased about the color.

...though, I am aware of the medics not being very kind to you. From what l've heard, Apparently annoyed at you for... what, being in pain?... as a burn victim? What a concept! Ok, well, i get nobody -except sadists, I guess?- really like hearing someone crying but seriously, That's hardly professional, right? I acknowledge that I'm probably a bit late in saying this and it's been a bit since that happened but I couldn't not acknowledge it, you know? Wanna say my piece on it, at least.

I'm also pissed they apparently gave you a shit ton of amnesiacs, or however you call it without you knowing to knock you out or something? Which really sucks and I'm sorry happened.

-And Don't try to say it's ok or fine either, or that 'it could be worse' because that's not really the point, because it sure could be a lot better and they aren't treating you with the respect they should. I absolutely despise that they're not even really treating you like a person. Just abysmal. I don't care about whatever their reasoning or intent was, I dislike that they did it at all.. You being disabled is not an excuse for people to use that against you or mistreat you.

Not a good coping mechanism to just act like it's fine and doesn't matter when it's not. Trust me, I've done that before in the past and l assure you, it's less than helpful. I know you're doing it to essentially protect yourself because it's easier not to care about something than care about it and be worse off because ofit. but i don't believe It will help you in the long run. It can just create a nasty habit of avoidance and denial. It's essentially repression, I think. I'm not a mental health professional, just an incredibly mentally ill cryptid.

...I don't intend to upset you by bringing this up. And if I did, then that's on me and lim sorry. Genuinely. I just don't want to ignore this.

This will likely be the last I'll speak of it, and I won't bring it up again if you don't want me too. Just feel like it's a necessary thing to talk about, even if you might not think so.

I also don't want to come across as if I am judging you for thinking or acting this way. I'm not. I just know it's not the best way to go about it, and am merely saying my thoughts on it and the like. I can't make you do anything. Just a suggestion. something to consider and hopefully you'll understand my (and the rest who've talked to you about this point of view.

I just know that as a somewhat apathetic person- and I know saying that sounds crazy considering how much I tend to express my care to you, but it's true, somewhat. I dunno, It's inconsistent and weird. Though that's basically a summary of me as a whole, haha! | either care too much or don't care at all it's crazy. Sometimes I have to make myself care, if the thing I'm apathetic about actually matters and something you gotta care about, like other people and what happens to them, or things happening in the rest of the world where I'm not.

And that might be bad, but I find it's not harmful for me to do so. It sorta goes hand and hand with empathy, for me. Gotta fully process the situation n put myself in their shoes, I guess.

I'm not sure where I was going with that, ll think I was trying to make a point but it sorta derailed into me just infodumping.

Oh, right. Uh, basically being apathetic or not caring doesnt usually do you well. Does more harm than good, methinks. But I'm not trying to teach you a lesson or anything, I don't think I could do that to anyone if I tried. Much less a traumatized guy who's having questionable coping mechanisms to avoid being miserable all the time. Which I can't entirely fault you for. At least with my current knowledge of it.

I have cared too much about a thing and wanted to make myself not care, so I tried forcing apathy which. Did not work. Granted it was about a much less stressful and bad situation but I think it still works the same way. Forcing yourself not to care doesnt do good stuff to your brain I think.

Suddenly i feel like I am forgetting something and or like I don't know what I'm talking about. Ah! Oh, ok it's just brain fog. Brain fogs back.

Or apathy? Man this sucks. Yeah again I say this stuff as a suggestion at best. I just care about you and want you to be ok and have less harmful ways of dealing with stuff.

Anyway. That's all I gotta say on that. Hope you understand at least consider it and don't get too upset at it. if I completely failed this, then I am sorry.

Mm.. well. I recall some others were telling you what you were to them? Like a housecat or like. Some other vaguely absurd and questionable things. Oh, and other more 'normal' things like uncle or something. You're a dad to like 5 or so kids in your head, right? You're a son to another. Robin, right? She seems nice. Death, too.

I suppose I've already told you what you are to me, haven't I? A friend. And I think that's good enough for me.

That’s all I got for now. love you. Hugs.

[right as I was writing this he got sent another awful video. My timing is the WORSTTT.)

It's okay. Happens. What musical?

Mhm. I like talking to you too. You're a good friend.

Better bandages and clean gown's good, yeah. That last week where Anya couldn't change the bandages at all was hell. And that gown was fucking filthy.

...It's not so bad, really...

Amnesiacs...? You mean, uh... Fuck, now I can't remember how it's called either. Does start with 'A.' ...Anti... Nope. Uh... Anesthesia? I don't know. I don't know what they gave me. Probably was better off not being awake for whatever it was anyways.

But it is fine. I'm not upset about it. Was just confused when it first happened. ...The not treating me like a person thing... If I'm being real, that's sometihng I could do without. It really... I don't like how they don't, uh... my crew at least talked to me sometimes, you know? I don't like this. Feels like I'm not even fucking here sometimes.

But it's not a good coping mechanism to— Look, I'd rather just try to get what little relief I can than waste energy wishing it were different. I just... I just have to deal with it until we land, and then— and then surely it won't be— I'll be able to understand them, at least, and maybe the crew will want to— will be allowed to visit. Just have to last until then. Not so bad.

It's really okay. Don't need to be sorry.

Mhm. Yeah. Sorry.

...Mhm.

It's not that I don't care. It's just that it's not worth fussing about. I've been through worse conditions. These ones are fine. I don't understand what's questionable about thinking that. It's objectively better than the Tulpar.

I don't understand what makes it harmful either. Trying to have less harm.

You haven't... Not upset. Haven't failed either. Don't be sorry.

Hah. Yeah. I don't get the joke, but... Something like that. ...To Death I'm a sick cat, actually. For some reason.

A friend's plenty good enough. Love you. Mind hugs.

[arise-ascend]

oh shit i forgot this blog existed again whoops

i think it’s the one year anniversary of me grabbing it with my little raccoon hands

ramble about the passage of time under the cut:

it’s been a rollercoaster, but pretty great year for me overall. there was some disappointments, but i mostly remember the good parts.

saddest part was that the move i was hoping for fell through, meaning starting T has been delayed another year. we’re giving it another shot next year. pun not intended.

on the plus side, I completed my last required college course for my certification!!

…had a bit of a mental breakdown during the process. but that also helped me unpack some shit and I think I came out the other side of it with a better understanding.

i’ve explored new relationships this year, and i have three partners who mean the world to me. our relationship is unconventional to say the least, but we’ve been so, so happy.

i don’t know what’s been going on with the person i originally nabbed this url from, and i don’t particularly care to find out. but i have to wonder, has this year been as good to them as it’s been for me? i’ve struggled, sure, but overall, i’ve been happy. truly happy, for the first time in i don’t know how long.

it’s hard to imagine someone who spends their time purposely surrounded by hatred would be very happy. are they still being just as vile as they were when the year started, or have they grown as a person? i’d like to think that they’ve done some self reflection too, but i suppose i won’t get my hopes up.

this blog got more attention that i thought it would. it was so nice to get so many nice messages and fun jokes from people. thanks for helping spread the joy. hope you all had a good one; i’d love to hear about it if you did.

happy holidays and i hope you all have a great new year!

[literallyjustscrollingthatisit]

The Process For "Heart Behind The Strings"

Unlike with my first drawing, since I'd already gotten pretty used to the brushes, the first session was a lot more productive. I remember the hair took me a while to flesh out the way I wanted it which is pretty consistent even now. Hair is usually my favorite part to do and I like to really take my time with it.

Session two was not nearly as productive but hey, the hand with the sword is in! Hands have always been the bane of my existence... they're so hard to draw! I definitely used a reference for both hands in this drawing. It should be noted that for a while, I didn't really do "first drafts" and liked to get each stage done and just move on. This is consistent up until the literal last drawing I did where I experimented with rough outlines for positioning. Who knows if I'll stick with it! Being consistent is not really my strongsuit.

I usually like to get the sketching done before I even touch color. However, the front hand was giving me so much trouble that I switched to color because I got so frustrated. But on the brightside: I finally figured out how to screenshot properly so the quality from here on out is better! (Took me an embarrassingly long time.)

The front hand has arrived! It took me way too long to draw this in but the reference helped a lot! It appears I forgot to turn off my guidelines on Kris's face and armor when I took this screenshot... whoops. The other primary addition is the scarf changing a bit. Scarfs and capes are my other favorite thing to draw. They're abnormally fun to outline for some reason.

The flat color has been laid out (except for the armor). And apparently some shading on the underside of the scarf. Also I noticed the background color keeps changing in between. Sometimes I change the color so it's easier on my eyes but then forget to change it back for the screenshot.

Almost everything is colored and shaded by this point! Except the scarf is not fully colored with the stripes yet for some reason. This session also introduced the sweat on the left side (our left) of Kris's face. It's pretty hard to see since it's so small and even harder on the actual one since this isn't the final size of the piece!

The stripes on the scarf have arrived! You'll also notice Kris's body and the back plate are different! The body shape felt off somehow so I changed it here to the one in the final! On another note, you might notice that the shading sometimes looks weird on my drawings. Shading and lighting are still something I'm in the process of learning (and I wasn't taking classes at all during most of these drawings!) so that's why it looks off. I try to look at references or for hair I have a way I like to shade it on top of that.

With Kris complete I moved on to the soul and the gray hands in the back. I'm pretty sure I basically drew one hand then copy and pasted it onto the other side (flipped it too of course). Like I said earlier: hands are hard! I think I liked the black background and just ran with it. It also helped to make the hands kind of just come out of nowhere but still implied to be tied to the soul in some way.

And it's a wrap! On another note: I made a new post on my main blog that may have an alternative version coming to this one later.... (maybe)

Next time, I'll be taking you through "To The Punishment Shack!" That one is actually rather short with only three sessions.

[boilingrain]

Rain Draws Squirrelflight, Leafpool & Bramblestar a Few Times

Since these three won my poll on which protagonists I should draw, here they are!

They don't get as much art per character as Ashfur did, because that was one character and this is three. Trust me, this was faster and more do-able

So anyways, first up is the Squirrel herself!

I draw Squirrelpaw generally softer & bouncier looking than I draw Squirrelflight, because at this point in time she's just a kid. She has not yet witnessed the Horrors(tm)

Even when I was reading The New Prophecy for the first time as a kid, I always imagined Squirrelpaw/Squirrelflight as having little round ears. Maybe it was just the "Squirrel" prefix, but that trait has always stuck with me and I've always drawn her with small ears.

This isn't a trait unique to Squirrelflight with my designs though! In her family alone, Cloudtail, Alderheart, Lionblaze and Nutmeg also have small, rounded ears (Princess might also have them, but I haven't decided yet. I also haven't decided if any of Cloudtail or Lionblaze's kits have the rounded ears, but at least one probably does)

I wish that she had kept her telepathy thing with her sister, I honestly thought it was interesting. It's a shame that the Erins quickly ran out of uses for it and decided to pretend it never existed. This may or may not be why in my rewrite of Warriors that exists in my head (like many others in this fandom), the telepathy thing didn't stop existing as soon as it wasn't super useful the plot anymore.

Admittedly, she's always been my favorite of the cats who journeyed to the sun-drown place (though tbf, most of them didn't really get any proper development, and the other one was Brambleclaw. I do have a soft spot for Stormfur and Tawnypelt, though).

Also I... forgot to color Squirrelkit's mouth. Whoops

The lady with a somehow worse taste in men than her sister, Squirrelflight!

Please Squirrelflight, you could've done so much better than Bramblestar. You deserve so much better than Bramblestar.

That aside, Squirrelflight has been one of my favorites for a long time. I just think she's a fun and interesting character

I think I said basically all of the things I was going to say when I was talking about Squirrelpaw, tbh. Also, much like a lot of the fandom for some reason, I don't really remember much of what happened during OotS? I don't think Squilf was particularly relevant during that arc, but it's possible she was and I just genuinely do not remember.

Why is Omen of the Stars basically just a void in everyone's memory. What's going on there.

Anyways, those aren't the final designs for Lionkit, Hollykit & Jaykit in that little doodle. Those are just kind of rough concept designs for them, and when I eventually draw them they'll probably look different. Also this is tortie Hollyleaf propaganda

If Lionblaze can be golden (though I typically draw him as cream) when both of his parents are functionally black (brown = black when it comes to cats. Also Leafpool shouldn't be a brown tabby anyways, because her dad is red and her mom is cream, which is a dilute version of red. I should stop talking now, before I get too deep into rambling about cat genetics), then Hollyleaf can be a tortie. (Jayfeather's fine btw. Gray is a dilute version of black, and both of his parents carry dilute. Crowfeather from Ashfoot & Leafpool from Sandstorm)

Okay, I'll finally shut up about cat genetics now

If Squirrelstar doesn't happen, I will eat my hat. I will eat several hats.

I actually don't even know how old Squirrelflight is currently in the books. It doesn't help that the Erins are weird with ages and don't seem to know how cats work.

For my purposes, I choose to believe that the Clans have been at the lake for at least a decade, making Squilf at least 10 1/2 - 11 years old, depending on how old she was when the Clans left the forest territories. And putting her around that age would, in fact, make her a senior (for a house cat, at least. Real feral cats don't typically live that long, but tbf the clans have medicine and stuff, so their life expectancy might be longer than regular feral cats. But cats are considered seniors once they hit 10 years old)

Also all things considered, she's probably been stressed as hell for a while and experiencing the Horrors(tm). So she gets some gray on her muzzle from a combination of age and stress.

Honestly she deserves to go on a nice, relaxing vacation where she doesn't have to deal with the Erin's less than good writing choices and shitty treatment of female characters.

Anyways Squirrelstar's leader mark is her nose spot becoming star shaped, because I love it when leaders are depicted with some sort of star shaped marking. I eat it up every time.

I'll talk more about leader marks and how I do them at a later time, though.

Leafpaw! My sweet baby Leafpaw!

My version of Leafpool is big and very fluffy, and you can't stop me from drawing her that way

Right off the bat, you'll probably notice that her design has changed a bit from the original concept design that I posted, as she's now a tortie instead of a regular brown tabby. Admittedly, a big part of why she's a tortie now is that I just love torties & calicos haha

If anything, her name makes even more sense now, because the combination of brown and orange makes her look more like leaves during fall! :)

Why's Leaf a tortie but Squirrel isn't? Maybe Squirrelflight is a secret tortie, or maybe she's trans, who knows? (The actual answer is that I had already finished all the Squilf art when I randomly decided to have Leaf be a tortie, but I didn't want to go back and change Squilf's design because I love it)

I hope it's obvious that I love Leafpool a whole lot

Once again, Holly, Lion & Jay's designs in this are not their final designs and when I eventually get around to actually drawing them, they'll definitely have at least a few design changes.

Also it's really hard to draw tiny little newborn kittens on a small scale like this.

Anyways I've never actually read Leafpool's Wish, so I don't know if it proves or disproves what I'm about to say, but I think that with how much Leafpool loved her kits, I believe that she would've raised them herself if she had the ability to.

I also personally believe that if Squirrelflight hadn't decided to take in the kits, or if Leafpool had decided that she wanted to raise her kits instead of her sister doing it, Thunderclan wouldn't have done shit about it. I mean, she definitely wouldn't be as trusted as she was before, but I don't think she'd lose her job (at least at first) or be exiled. She was their only medicine cat, they literally couldn't do shit about it. Additionally, she's Firestar's daughter and also related to Sandstorm and Squirrelflight, who are both individually forces to be reckoned with.

She'd probably have to train an apprentice as soon as possible and then have to step down from her role as medicine cat, but I definitely don't think she'd be exiled or anything.

Leafpool but she sparkles

For anyone who didn't see my Ashfur post, some of the rules I have for Starclan designs is that Starclan cats are lighter in color and have sharper & more star shaped markings compared to when they were alive. They also have their appearances change over time in a way connected to their names, which is why Leafpool is starting to grow leaves out of her neck fluff.

Additionally, Starclan cats will typically have a sharper shape, to go with their sharper markings. You'll notice that while she has the sharper markings, Leafpool's fur is still soft and rounded.

I feel like Leafpool's whole thing with her trial would affect her Starclan appearance, but that's not really something that results from a trial, so her not becoming sharper in shape is the exception rather than the rule.

I didn't design a Dark Forest Leafpool, but I imagine that the changes she'd get there (because my DF cats have their appearances change based on their crimes) would be that she would still grow leaves out of her body, but she'd also grow feathers and would have particularly long and sharp claws that she wouldn't be able to sheath. Each of these things is representative of the "crime" that she was sentenced for (even though Spottedleaf, a Starclan cat, literally encouraged her to do that)

The leaves would specifically be holly leaves (representing, well... Hollyleaf), the feathers would be a mix of jay and crow (representing Jayfeather & Crowfeather) and the claws would represent Lionblaze (though for this one I went with something meant to represent his power instead of his name. With Leafpool being a medicine cat, I think it fits)

If Leafpool doesn't give Squirrelstar a life we riot

The bramble man

Honestly even as a kid Brambleclaw wasn't exactly my favorite character. I wasn't really old enough to really process how he sucks, honestly I just kind of remember thinking that he was boring. Maybe that's just the fact that I've always liked Squirrelflight & Leafpool way more than him, but I just didn't really care for his POV chapters during The New Prophecy

I did love the Hawkfrost scene, though. Because I wasn't on any warrior cats forums or anything as a kid, I didn't get spoiled about stuff like Hawkfrost's death or the Fire Scene (along with many other important scenes), so I think those scenes hit way harder for me.

When I was a kid reading Po3 for the first time, I genuinely didn't even suspect that Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw weren't Hollyleaf, Lionblaze & Jayfeather's biological parents. So you can probably imagine how shocked little elementary school me was

But anyways, yeah. While I didn't hate Brambleclaw as a kid, I just didn't really care about him.

On another note, my Brambleclaw/star design is pretty similar in shape to my Lionheart design (just with extra toes and not as big of a mane). Since Lionheart was Goldenflower's brother, I thought it would be interesting if while everyone else just saw Tigerclawstar in Bramble's appearance, Goldenflower didn't.

My Tawnypelt design has a more similar shape to Tigerclawstar, though.

Bramblestar!

Leader marks are usually an already existing marking that becomes star shaped (like how I made Squirrelstar's nose spot star shaped), but sometimes a new marking entirely will appear as the leader mark.

While I easily could've made one of the spots on the backs of his ears into a star shaped for his leader mark, I have plans relating to Bramblefake/The Imposter and Bramblestar's mark.

You'll see said plans in a moment, but what I will mention about it is that my Ashfur design has a broken heart shaped marking on his chest.

On an unrelated note, Bramblestar should have someone else name warriors for him because great Starclan is he bad at names.

There's totally nothing wrong with Bramblestar, what possibly could've made you think that

Anyways, a combination of the whole being possessed thing & Ashfur's broken heart marking have caused Bramblestar's leader mark to "break". It actually doesn't get fixed after he's no longer possessed, his leader mark stays that way.

The Imposter's fur is darker and droopier than regular Brambkestar. I don't have a real reason for the darker color (other than that it looks cool), but the fur is Ashfur's doing.

Another thing that is Ashfur's doing is the blue pupils. Bramblestar is supposed to have red pupils (due to him training in the Dark Forest in TNP), but being possessed kind of overrides that and so The Imposter's pupils are blue. They do turn red again after Bramblestar is no longer possessed, though.

Honestly, I still kind of wish that the theory that Bramblestar had rabies was canon. The possession was interesting, but I don't think rabies has even been mentioned in the series. Which is a bit surprising considering that it's basically a soap opera with cats, but then again the Erins sure do love taking the opportunity to ignore possible interesting new plots. Why do anything interesting when we could instead have a billion more badly written romances

But I will admit, it was interesting to have Ashfur come back to be awful again. I'm still mad that he got let into Starclan after trying to kill at least 4 people because he "loved too much" and that gave him more of an opportunity to pull this shit. They absolutely butchered Yellowfang after she died. Not really even recognizable as the same character as her living self.

I'm not doing more art for this post. I'm tired and I'm going to go get some sleep. Tomorrow I will get back to work on hypokit requests, but for now it is time to put away my art supplies and lay in bed.

[sesamestreep]

hi hello I'm here to ask about "write a loving letter" and "mystery door no. 4"

how dare you make me format TWO excerpts??

“write a loving letter boy” should maybe not be on here because it’s not exactly an active WIP because I’ve fully forgotten the actual plot I had in mind for it, but I love the draft title so much I can’t delete it (see below if the reference eludes you). The basic idea was yet another daredevil college au (what can I say, I have a Type) but in this case it’s…like a Cyrano de Bergerac AU?? where Foggy ends up helping one of their classmates woo Matt because he “knows him so well” and ends up discovering his own feelings for Matt that way?? I watched an episode of Bones that was obviously a Cyrano pastiche but they refused to acknowledge it and it made me so annoyed, I had to write this AU instead. Also thought I was very clever for thinking of a queer Cyrano retelling and then remembered “The Half of It” exists. Whoops.

Here’s the only scene I have, which is Foggy talking to the girl who wants to date Matt, who ended up just being the most fun OC to write:

“I was going to ask you something, actually,” Willa says, in that precise way of hers. Foggy likes her, based on the few conversations they’ve had, but he imagines she makes a lot of people their age feel a little frivolous, just based on her general energy. Foggy already knows he’s pretty frivolous, as a person, so he doesn’t take it too personally, which probably helps. “Sure. Shoot. Go ahead.” “You’re really good friends with Matt, right?” “We’re roommates, yeah,” Foggy replies, as he brings his drink to his mouth. “Right. I know,” Willa says, frowning. “But like…you’re friends too?” “Of course.” “I’m not friends with my roommate,” she supplies, explaining her clarification without actually explaining it.  “Oh, sure,” Foggy says. He likes the way Willa’s brain works, he’s just remembering. It’s like he can see the gears moving inside of it. It’s kind of fun. “Yes, Matt and I are friends as well as roommates. Why do you ask?”

title reference for page break reasons

“mystery door no. 4” is actually not fanfic, it’s an original novel I’m kind of working on (I am working on it, I just have no real vision for what I’ll do with any of it should I actually finish it, is what that sentence means, ftr). It’s based on an old idea I did for the made up movies meme on here years ago and I’ve been mostly handwriting it as an excuse not to look at screens during the spring/summer when I’m a lot more headache prone. I went through a period of about 2-3 months where I hated every fic idea I started and was just miserable about writing in general and decided to try writing some original fiction, which is not something I’ve done since I was like 12 (a long time but redacted amount of years ago) and it’s been very fun so far though I’m keeping my expectations low.

here is an excerpt, featuring my new OCs who I’m sure I’ll start tagging in stuff soon as the next step in my full descent to madness:

“Again with these words!” Aleks groaned. “Didn’t you just wake up?” “Not just.” “Still. ‘Puerile’? I couldn’t use that in a sentence correctly with three cups of coffee in me!” “Was that a hint?” “Hmmm?” “Do you want coffee? Were you asking me to make us some coffee?” “Are you part sheep dog or something?” Aleks asked. “Will you go crazy if I don’t give you something to do?” “Maybe,” Eugene admitted reluctantly.

[honeyedwordsandblades]

Was writing out tags on agothorn's post about Astarion/Tav and how Tav could've been another Sebastian if they had met Astarion before but I got pretty carried away and instead wrote not an essay but a whole goddamn novel??? And did u know Tumblr only lets you put 30 tags top on a post? (And it still wasn't enough, lmao whoops.)

So here are those tags, a bit reformatted to be a text post instead. Thank you in advance if you decide to go on this crazy ride of my dumb ramblings!

--

Honestly, I imagine when they get down there and see all the vampire spawn, all his previous targets/victims (and the other six's I'm sure), Rose immediately thinks back to the beginning of their journey together. Of the early days where she was so smitten and head over heels for Astarion, without really knowing him or his past.

And looking at all his past victims, all in front of her (especially with his interaction with Sebastian), she immediately realizes that if they had met another way, if they had met before the mindflayers kidnapped them all, she would have also been so easily manipulated and played. Lured just like the rest of his victims straight to Cazador. Like a lamb to slaughter. Like a fool lured straight off a cliff. And so happily too. So blissfully unaware and ignorant of her awaiting inevitable fate.

She knows, in that instant, if they had met before instead of when they did, she'd be down here with the rest of his victims. And, more than likely, afterward he would've just completely and entirely forgotten about her. Assumed her dead and had been done with it.

She wouldn't even be a ghost of a memory to haunt him for eternity, for the rest of his undead life. She'd been nothing to him.

(I'd like to believe that wouldn't be true though. He'd remember her just like he remembered Sebastian. Another poor innocent soul that, in their very short time together, she would have undoubtedly left quite the impression and mark upon him. He would always remember her. And, yes, she would absolutely haunt him for the rest of his undead life. Such a naive girl with such a big loving caring heart. How could he ever forget her? And her soft brown-hazel eyes and her lovely up-done brown hair. And the biggest smile he's ever seen. All just for him. Because of him. He'd never truly forget her. But I digress (too much). We're talking about Rose's point of view not Astarion's, lmao.)

She'd mean nothing to him as he found a way to usurp Cazador (if he was able to at all otherwise. But assuming if he did.) and would so easily and readily sacrifice her and all his and his "sibling's" victims in order to become the ~Vampire Ascendant~ .

Because she would mean nothing to him. Or, at least, (after seeing his panic and slight hesitation after talking to Sebastian) he would try to make himself believe that. Push away all the rising guilt suddenly trying to claw itself up from his dead heart and out his throat. Push it all down, hoping it would return from whence it came and just shut up and never return. That this is what he wants. What he's always wanted. (Right?)

And, after they speak with Sebastian, Rose would speak with Astarion personally. An argument as 'old as time' (i.e. as long as their relationship has been) started fresh and anew once more. About Astarion doing the ritual himself. And she would say in no uncertain bitter terms all that i've described above to him, to his face.

And maybe he's thought about it before. About how easy a target she would've been. How she would've been another poor lost soul. Gone. Disappeared into the night. Far from reach from family, from friends, from anyone and everyone. So easily snatched from her life. Not a trace of her to be found. Almost like she never existed. (But he would remember her. Gods, her smile. Her eyes. She would haunt him.)

But now, after seeing Sebastian, seeing all his victims in front of him... Discovering that they hadn't died and were very much (horribly) alive and undead, vampire spawn just like him and his 'siblings'. All of them connected to him, not just as his past victims, but through carved scars just like the one on his back. All for this grim infernal ritual where they would all be sacrificed (including himself if his plan to kill and usurp Cazador in the ritual didn't succeed).

But now presented with Rose's theoretical... To imagine her right alongside Sebastian and all his other victims, in just as terrible and poor a state as they are. And, instead of seeing her lovely brown-hazel eyes, being meet only with undead vampiric red burning straight into his soul... It instantly sends a chill down his spine. And it makes him sick to his stomach to even think, to even imagine such an image.

But Rose presses on, despite his reaction, despite the clear look of horror that passes on his face. And brings his imagination further. Spelling out as clear as she can exactly what her fate would end up being if she had been one of his victims. If he took up the ritual in Cazador's place- She would die. Right alongside all the other vampire spawn. They were meant for sacrifice after all. And that's the role they and, more importantly, she would serve.

He'd have everything. And she would be dead.

Sacrificed for the power he would then have.

He's too stunned to speak, but he knows what she's doing. Her manipulations are too obvious. But perhaps that's the point. She's not trying to manipulate him, she's trying to persuade him. Or better put, she's pleading. Begging him to see the terrible horror of the atrocity he's planning to commit. (As if he doesn't already know. As if he didn't know it all along. Although, admittedly, not at this scale. It was only 6 before, not 7,000.)

All by placing herself in the role of one of his victims.

And he has to admit: It's working.

He'll try to reason with her (twist and manipulate it back). That she's not. And, besides, he's doing it for both of them. So they can both be safe. With such power he can-

She huffs exasperated, disappointed. And she's already shaking her head. Somehow disbelieving that he's coming up with the same excuses as he always has.

But he knows they both heard his voice as he spoke. Quivering, uncertain. Clearly reaching, relying on old scripted justifications. But he still clings tightly to old hopes, old plans.

And, here and now, just before the end, just before the finale, is when she finally pulls out the ultimatum she's been mulling about for ages.

He must not go through with the ritual. If he does... She will ensure he never takes it.

She stares straight into his eyes as she tells him. Eyes (and heart) hardened. Walls up. Back straightened. Looking at him defiantly.

The look of a Hero.

He's only seen her do it a few times before but never to him. And now that she is... Now that he's on the other side of it. Well, he won't lie. A cold feeling of fear runs down his spine. He knows when she's like this that she means every word she says and will absolutely commit to it.

Before he can even speak, she softens, breaks. Pain written plainly across her face.

Ever so softly, she pleads with him not to go through with it (the ritual). She admits she doesn't want to, but she will- end him (What a nice way to say "kill him where he stands". Almost like she can't even bring herself to say it.) And he fully believes her.

Her earlier pleading, her theoretical, may have (deeply) shaken him, but this- This ultimatum... certainly gave him pause.

Although not as much as her next words.

"Please don't make me kill you."

Hushed, soft. An almost whisper that, well- metaphorically speaking, kills him on the spot. Like a stake to his undead heart.

The image of him beginning the ritual and her swinging her sword, one good ol' swing through his neck, his head suddenly gone enters his mind.

She would do it. He knows it.

Would he risk it? Attempt the ritual and, if he succeeds, if she doesn't chop off his head, beg for forgiveness? (Command her to forgive him even? He quickly pushes the thought from his mind.)

But staring into her pained, pleading eyes, her words still echoing in his mind like relentless ghosts haunting him, he knew his choice had been made.

Only a bit reluctantly does he promise her then and there that he would not go through with taking Cazador's place in the ritual. They would stop him and nothing more. Promise.

He can see that Rose is hesitant to believe him but she does relax some. Perhaps naively hoping that he had in fact come to his senses and was actually going to follow through with his promise. (After all, he's made promises before and kept them. Right?)

And he does.

(Although when he finally has the staff in his hands and he hesitates for just a small second, she's very kind to not bring up that moment later on.)

(And yes. She noticed. But after he continues on to save and free all the vampire spawns, both his siblings and those in the cells, she quickly forgets about it. All forgiven.)

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

the e!jeanist character study i literally wrote last year and we both forgot about until now haha whoops

Tsunagu thinks back to himself- the unclear but very present line of his before and the after. The lie and truth. At the start, it was… well. 

He starts thinking of it like this: 

Grassfires. There is a tradition- burn the old to make way for the new, to send the grass up in flames and leave the roots belowground to grow again. He is a grassfire. The fire is time. Time eats everything up in the end, be they legacies, memories of body and mind, problems, stories. The roots are himself. The grass would be things that had happened. Ashes after the fire were- memories, hazy, unclear things. 

What had happened, in the during just before the after, the not-quite-yet-before, was… not any of this. A lightning strike, maybe. A bomb. Tractors on the land, razing it and ruining it- not ruin. That’s a bad thought. Tsunagu remembers talking this out with his judge-mandated therapist. He was not ruined- and even if he was, kintsugi existed for a reason. People ruined themselves and remade themselves all the time.

It’s just. He didn’t- Tsunagu wasn’t… he was his fault. He had sat through lectures on manipulation. He’d read about it, words flowing in and out of his sometimes-seive of a brain. He remembers most of it. And Tsunagu- knows this. Clearly not in application, he’d tried that and it did not work, but in theory. 

When he looks back at his time with Rai, all the warning signs were there. Red flags hidden in plain sight- then again, Tsunagu himself had been kind of a red flag. Rai had made him feel… seen. Loved. Wanted, and he’d taken to that like a starving animal to a corpse. At first. It was almost like that starving, chained, muzzled dog from his childhood years. The first person that showed affection to it was the one it imprinted on. Would die with. Would stay with forever.

The path downwards to, -he doesn’t want to say abuse. It wasn’t abuse. It wasn’t that bad, people who were actually hurt by others deserved that word more- to, getting hurt more by him had been slow. It was loving looks at the dinner table turning into stilted conversations where Rai wasn’t interested. 

It was Rai slowly edging away from him. Pointed comments. Arguments ending in Tsunagu crying and him leaving their apartment for a few hours. His phone being stolen by Rai, once or twice. Back then he hadn’t thought anything of it. It was an accident, right? Rai wouldn’t hurt him. And if he did, then it was on Tsunagu- he was too sensitive, too traumatized, shouldn’t have done what he did… but Rai hadn’t done anything. Anything much. It was small things. So it was always, always his fault.  

Then it was like nothing had happened. They sat at the dinner table and chatted about their days. Cuddles on the couch. Banter. Kisses on the forehead and holding hands while they… while they. Were intimate. 

Repeat. And it was always after Tsunagu had done something Rai didn’t like. One time he’d been talking to Kuugo about how it was in Japan, and Tsunagu had laughed at a comment he’d made, and then the internet had cut out in their apartment. And then his phone had been broken, and… Tsunagu had lost quite a few numbers, that day. He’d gotten them back, but then Tsunagu had just slowly isolated himself from his friends. 

Rai’s ‘anger’ wasn’t really worth it, back then. He’d felt… battered, almost, as he made excuses to avoid going out with them.

Tsunagu doesn’t like thinking about it. Whenever he thinks on it too long there’s a buzzing noise in his ears, and a raw, animal feeling scrabbling at his ribcage. Tears spring to his eyes. He has always been somewhat of a crybaby. 

He takes a deep breath and pinches himself right in the meat of his arm. The sharp, expected pain snaps him right out of it. 

Therapy assignment. Right. Yes. Reflecting on… on emotions about Rai and Tsunagu’s time with him. It hadn’t been all bad -rot rarely extends throughout all of it, at minimum the surface has to be intact to lure animals in- but it was- rarely all good, either. He was a manipulator, Hakamada, the therapist had said. He was ‘good’ to you, yes, but was there a catch? Was there something he was trying to get from you?

And the answer was almost always yes. Yes, there was something that Rai had wanted. Yes, there had been something he wanted Tsunagu to overlook or be distracted about. When he’d come to this conclusion, he wanted to throw up. Tsunagu felt dirty, almost, thinking about this- he should be grateful, be thankful that there had been somebody who loved him. Wanted him for something. 

What was different between love and want, anyways? What was the difference? Selflessness? Letting another person go? Acceptance of another’s wants? Both of those had them. All of that was under one or more categories. Want and love, no matter how pathetic it was- it was a sense of belonging, in a way. A feeling of somebody wants me.

Tsunagu had wanted that, almost a year ago. Rai had given him that. He can’t fault him for that. All the blame lay at Tsunagu’s feet, anyways, from start to end. He had been the one to jumpstart their relationship. The first kiss. Everything other than them moving together. 

That had been an unanimous decision, happening over a month or two. He’d started finding Rai’s things all around his apartment, and eventually, without him really noticing, it had become theirs. Tsunagu had felt… less alone. Less safe. More judged. And he didn’t know what to do with those emotions, back then, so he’d tucked them all away and out of his heart the best he could. Out of sight, out of mind. 

It had worked for a while, even. 

And then there was the loathing. The first time Tsunagu had snapped a little bit, and shouted at Rai. It had been a silly, little, small thing. He had left his phone on Tsunagu’s nightstand. And he didnt’ know why, but. Well- Tsunagu had been so angry. He’d just. Snapped, like a frayed thread. (Looking back, that anger scared and rejuvenated him. It was a force of nature in motion, waves crashing onto shore, the moment where ice shattered-) 

He’d stormed into the kitchen and thrown the phone at Rai’s face. And then, well, Tsunagu’s anger ran cold, mostly. In the scale of hot and cold anger- well. He kept his bottled up, chilled, frozen, so when it leaked out Tsunagu could brush it off as just a bad day. But with pressure comes heat, and when the bottle breaks, it breaks hard. Release of pressure, expansion, a lava-hot explosion of rage. 

But back then, the bottle hadn’t broken. Yet. The shouting and anger-laced tones and the boom of the explosion had come when Rai grasped his shoulder, asking-telling Tsunagu if he was alright. Shouting. He doesn’t really remember what he’d said.

And then Tsunagu had left. For a night, just to stay at a hotel and to clear his mind. 

…He’d gotten so far off topic. Tsunagu glares at the paper telling him to write down the emotions you feel when-

Emotions. How would one go about catagorizing them? Bit by bit, box by box, until you could point at one and say that is happiness. That is sadness. That is the emotion I felt when I learnt about the stars. That is hate. That is heartbreak, or was Tsunagu supposed to look at it, examine it from every angle until he knew the exact details of how, when, why about it? Was he supposed to print them on words, into paper? 

He bites down into his cheek. Alright. What did Tsunagu feel when he thought of- those few days. Yes. Well. 

Avoidance, is the first thing he writes, trying his best not to think about it. Betrayal is next to arrive on the list. Tsunagu had been- it was- 

Kuugo had said that it wasn’t his fault. Shinya didn’t know. And the therapist had also said it wasn’t his fault. So. Logically. By democratic vote, it was a tie. Rai had said it was his fault, and prisoners still have the legal right to cast ballots in an election. Tsunagu… Tsunagu knows what he thinks. 

(It’s his fault.) 

So it’s a tie. 

Tsunagu scribbles out Betrayal because he’s writing with a pen and not pencil- actually, he should go get one. As well as an eraser. To get rid of the mistakes, yep. But… he needs to finish this before the next appointment. And Tsunagu’s been, um, putting it off for a few hours. Days. Almost a week. 

He goes to see the therapist -Tsunagu’s never asked for her name, and she’s never given one- twice a week. And they’ve made… some? Progress? Yes. Some. He can actually stay here and not drift off. And the anger issues are… not gone, Tsunagu’s not sure if they’ll ever be gone, but he’s in more control over them now. He spars with Kuugo whenever they’ve got time. It helps. Control in any form he could get it helps. 

(Tsunagu hasn’t eaten today. Because that is something he can take control over. It is his life. It is his body. He can do whatever he wants to it. Whatever. Not whenever, but whatever- he could carve bloody fractals into his ribs and nobody would notice if he didn’t want them to. Tsunagu hasn’t slept in days, probably.)

(It all blurs together at one point or another.) 

But. Anyways! Back to the exercise. Emotions. They sucked. Chemical fomations in the brain. 

…Sadness, Tsunagu writes down. Irritability. Wait, he still needed to get a pencil and eraser. He gets up from the desk and goes into his room… where did he put the stationary holder again? He looks around -bed, beanbag, bookcases, plant, ceiling plant, glow in the dark stickers, small desk with computer and charging stations…- oh, there it was. 

It was on the windowsill. When Tsunagu picks it up and walks out with it, quietly shutting the door as he leaves, the pens and suchlike are still warm. He absently tips the container over, pens, pencils, a pair of chopsticks, a exacto-knife, two long erasers, and whiteout tumble out. 

Tsunagu contemplates this for a moment. He really should try to work on this thing. But, on the other hand, he could also make a little stationary tower. Like the Tower of Babel. Christian bible stuff. 

The tower was smote by god due to their… hubris, right? And then languages had happened. The Christian Icarus’s tale, except this one only warns of too much ambition and pride. It does not warn of the dangers of apathy, of flying too close to the sea, of not trying hard enough and only settling for the lowest-hanging fruit.

…he doesn’t like this thought. Oh well. Back to making a stationary tower he goes- Tsunagu’s hands have done most of the work, anyways. He starts humming a song while doing so. And then his eye catches back onto the paper- 

Ah. He’d almost managed to forget about it, too. Tsunagu sighs mournfully and picks up a pencil from the top of the tower, spinning it. Does he… really have to do this? Ugh. Tsunagu, objectively, knows that he does. Logically he does. Emotionally he very much doesn’t want to confront this problem. Maybe with the depths of freezing-cold rage -he’s not sure when that got there and why- Tsunagu had picked up somewhere along the way. Maybe when he’s drunk. Maybe when it hasn’t been just one or two months after it happened. …he needs to finish this assignment or else Kuugo is going to shout at him in a friendly, Kuugo-like manner. And then, well, before he would have gotten a hug. Now he gets a snack or a drink. Tsunagu sprawls back down on the floor. What other emotions? Flightyness? Was that an option? Was that even a word?

---- -story anon (hello eclair :D)

Another banger from Story Anon!! This time e!jeanist edition :D

So- uh, this is relating to my jeanist backstory -which i have yet to really post a summary for- and theres some big stuff in there.

But yeh!! this is one of my favourites, thanks for popping it into my inbox as always :D

@laughteronsilverwings

[storybookprincess]

20 questions for fic writers!!!!!!!!! tagged by @ilgaksu (yes, we HAVE been mutuals since the dawn of time & yes we HAVE diverged fandoms wildly and yes we DO deserve this as a treat!!!!!!)

1. How many fics do you have on AO3?

87………… dear god……

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

377,923

dear god……….. take 2!!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

pretty exclusively animanga fandoms these days. hunter x hunter has been my home base for a while, but i dabble in other series too!!!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

personally i don’t enjoy discussing stats (outside of word count) because i think it encourages comparison, even if unintentionally, and i used to struggle a lot with that. sort by kudos exists for the curious, of course, but i don’t want to go out of my way to emphasize stats

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

oh gosh, i used to be RELIGIOUS about replying to every single comment i received, but that's since become a bit unmanageable with my current work & life schedule. i'd like to get back to replying at least a little bit, though!!

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i'm a happy ending girl through & through so i think the closest i have to an angsty ending is this tiny lil 1k leopika oneshot i wrote for the greed island server!!!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

what i'm getting from these questions so far is that i do not remember my own fics very well anymore & might want to go revisit them someday bc i am struggling to answer this one!!

that being said, i am a bit fond of this one from facts about stones, which was my big bang fic this year!!

“Let’s stay together.  For as long as you’ll have me.” “Forever, then,” Gon replies. Killua used to hate the thought of forever.  Life was something to be survived: minute to minute, second to second, breath to breath.  If his mind ever wandered further into the future than a few days, a sick, dizzy feeling would overtake him; the thought of this misery stretching on, gray and endless, was more than he could tolerate. But now, as Gon leaps over that very creek they’d played in so many times with a loud whoop, Killua finds that something has changed. “Longer,” he says. “Forever would be too short a time.” “Okay,” Gon agrees, a smile in his voice. “You and me. Forever, and then what comes after.”

8. Do you get hate on fics?

i was about to say that i've been fortunate enough never to get a hate comment BUT THEN i remembered how someone once wrote me a five paragraph essay (i'm not kidding) about how a character's behavior in a fic didn't make sense & was poorly written. god that was incredible

but on the whole, no, i'm quite quite lucky that i don't receive much negativity

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

not yet..............

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i'm a very boring person & thus don't vibe particularly much with crossovers. the most i've done is like........ very vaguely fairy tale inspired aus & the like. i wish i were a more adventurous writer bc some of the stuff people come up with in crossovers is ridiculously creative

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not a whole fic, but back in my bnha days, i had someone lift a scene literally beat for beat from a tddk fic of mine. i was a lot younger & less experienced in the fandom space back then, so i'm very glad, although perhaps a bit surprised, that i just closed the tab & moved on. life's too short to stress over that sort of thing

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes, one into russian & one into spanish on wattpad!!!!!! they both felt like such huge honors!!!!!!

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

i could pretend to give this some thought & come to a difficult decision, but it's killugon. it's far & away killugon. let's not kid ourselves here

14. What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

color in your cheeks

i think the idea has a ton of potential, but my execution of the first two chapters strikes me as rushed & impatient & a bit sloppy as a result. i think my only option is rewriting it from scratch so i can have a product i'm satisfied with

15. What are your writing strengths?

i pay a ton of attention to the flow of my prose & really endeavor for the sentences to have a lyrical quality. outside of syntax, i think i'm quite good at describing physical & emotional experiences extremely vividly

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

well well well, if it isn't my old nemesis, actually having a plot....... we meet again

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i don't have enough fluency in my non-native languages to pull this off & i find it challenging as a reader, but i think just about any choice or device can work if it's serving a narrative purpose & doing so effectively

18. First fandom you wrote for?

the year: 2008

the platform: fanfiction.net

the fandom: rent

listen we all start somewhere & i had a BLAST writing those silly little musical theatre fics, even if both they & the source material don't hold up 15 years later

19. Favorite fic you’ve written?

i worked so hard on it that i just have to go with divine magnets

am i missing a question???????? is this really only 19????? i'm so confused!!!!!!!! anyway tagging @ladycrescentvenus @clood @carochinha @chubsthehamster and @anyone else who wants to do this just say i tagged you!!!!

[omorinintendoswitchedition]

DMC Questions Anon here!

Before you read this next question:

I was informed that it would be a good idea for my questions to be answered with a specific tag so if people wish to block it they could. Please tag your answers to any question I send you with "dmc questions anon" and I think that should work.

If you wish to be taken off the list, ask. If somebody wishes to be placed on the list, ask. If your anon asks are off and you wish to participate, just make a post answering the question you see going around.

Remember you do not have to answer every question, so please don't feel pressured to do so.

Please also remember to take as long as you need! Do not rush yourself, this is supposed to be a fun activity and I don't want anyone to feel stressed out by trying to rush to answer questions.

Now onto the actual question:

How would you rank the 5 games in the Devil May Cry series? (By story)

Separately, if you want, how would you rank extended material? (The DMC1 Novel, The DMC3 Mangas, The Anime, The DMC2 Novel, Deadly Fortune, Before the Nightmare, and Visions of V, all of which can be found (along with other stuff) here: https://originaldmc.github.io/DivinityStatue/Downloads.html)

If you wish, how would you rank all of it together in one big list?

Omg hiii anon!!!!

I’m gonna be honest and say I haven’t made my way through all the dmc side content yet, I’ve only managed to read Visions of V so I guess I have to rank that number one. Ive also watched some of the anime, but not enough to really give it a firm rank. I’ve been kinda busy lately so I just haven’t had the time to finish reading all the novels

And onto the games!!!!!!

Number 5:Dead last

Devil May Cry 2. Okay yeah this should not be a surprise. DMC2 failed in pretty much every category when it comes to games. The story is just mind numbingly boring. Let’s move on

Number 4:Pretty Eh but doesn’t really hold up well with the later entries

Devil May Cry 1. Someone on Reddit said this the best but when you compare it to later entries DMC1 kinda feels like filler. I am all for a DMC1 remake of it means giving Mundus a much more satisfying ass whooping (and more screen time for Trish!!!! She deadass isn’t there for half the game!!!! I literally forgot she existed in that game halfway through!!!!)

Number 3:Concepts were great but man they missed some potential

Devil May Cry 4. The concepts of a religious cult ruling and island and creating angels from the power of demons rules. And putting us in a position where Dante was the “bad guy” was actually really cool. But half of the game is just backtracking as Dante which puts the story on hold. The scrapped concepts for DMC4 were so cool and so should’ve been included man :((

Number 2:Overcoming your daddy issues

Devil May Cry 3. Dante and Lady both had amazing arcs throughout this game. With Dante accepting his repressed past and demon side and proudly claiming himself as son of Sparda who harbours his soul. It’s enough to make a grown man cry. And Lady’s arc of learning that not all demons are evil, and finally being able to extract revenge on her father. And who can forget that famous “even a devil May cry when he looses someone he loves” line. And I ain’t gonna pretend Vergil wasn’t a banger part of this game’s story cause he was a banger part of this game’s story. A man who seeks power to the point of self-destruction. Who is just as fucked up as Dante but refuses to let himself feel those emotions, and instead filling the blanks with raw strength. And the post credits scene with Mundus…..biting and chewing and killing……ough the post credits scene with Mundus…..

Number 1:That’s intergenerational trauma babyyyy

Devil May Cry 5. As much as I mald and seethe about how dirty Lady and Trish were done in DMC5 I truly do fucking love DMC5. Watching Vergil finally gain the capability to express his emotions and be able to reconcile with his past and his trauma and work for a better future got me wailing and weeping. Watching Nero be able to prove that yes, he is powerful and capable as a devil hunter got me weeping and wailing. Seeing Dante and Vergil finally being able to reconstruct their sibling bond after so many years and keep their sibling rivalry on less violent terms got me weeping and wailing. Everything about V got me wailing and weeping. Nico was such a good addition to this franchise with her personality and how she bounces off the others with her snarky little remarks and was a good source of comedy relief during rough times. The passing of the torch moment was honestly so powerful and I’m actually really looking forward to seeing how Nero can carry on that torch through the series. And the references to the DMC anime in the forms of Patty and Morrison were really neat too.

[phenomanemone]

o22

Danny sits on the couch, her posture stiff. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and her expression dares Chai to speak.

Chai dares.

“I know you were hoping that after the last session, planets would align and the universe would hand you some deep truth, but I see merit in what we achieved last night.”

Danny sneers, frustrated.

“I can remember places from when I was younger, whoop-de-doo. We didn't get anything substantial recorded.”

Chai leans forward on the parallel couch, his expression kind. However, he allows some of his feelings to bleed through. Danny senses his own frustration and is reminded that his patience is a choice, and he is not simply a reflective surface to be what she needs.

“Recording details isn't the goal,” he explains. “None of this needs to make sense, even to us when the moment has passed and we're rereading it. This is a tool to help us reach a deeper understanding, that we achieve through the act of recording. It's not the recording itself that matters.”

Dani considers this. They're quite sure that a little white dog had told them this before. It made sense now, hearing Chai explain.

“So when can we understand you, then?” they ask, decidedly more relaxed than before.

“When that can of worms is ready to be open,” he says, a touch pale. “You guys struggle to even think about Evoni, most days.”

Dani narrows their eyes, watching carefully. “Is that you confirming that it was Evoni who you—”

“Guided?” Chai cuts in, flustered. “No, I don't know. I think it was, but it's not something one could be certain about. There were a lot of others watching.”

Dani recalls, but they had turned their back and left. It had been necessary. There was a part that truly needed that kind of attention to feel acknowledged. Chai had not been taking advantage of the situation; he was genuine in that he wanted everyone to heal. Dani remembers through Sage, giving them privacy.

Finally, they admit, “Evoni does deserve to feel happy. We've been awful to her, just because she enjoys sex. We should have been helping her find boundaries, instead of shaming her.”

“I think we were all too uncomfortable to really look at her, at the time.” Chai also admits. “We didn't have the understanding that we have now, and there was a lot of misinformation. When we realised that Evoni's mindset didn't line up with what was considered adulthood… I think it's normal to freak out.”

Dani buries their face in their hands. “Evoni has her own system, her own group of parts. That's so much work.”

Chai smiles to himself as he says, “Aside from Evoni herself, you're pretty different from the rest.”

“Evoni is just after me, chronologically. I have memories from being a kid— maybe from eight to eleven? twelve? Evoni is fourteen, to I think, sixteen?”

Dani's expression is earnest and open, and Chai feels a surge of warmth. Every bit of progress was worthy of celebration, and the lot of them had struggled with Evoni for a long time, unsure how to interpret her, or her libido.

She was rude. She was bitchy. She didn't care about laughing at the expense of others. She was unashamed of listening to her desires, and she was the complete opposite of everything they had known.

They'd made allowances for her, rules and guidelines, but any mistakes were treated with hostility rather than patience.

Chai was regretful. He'd never had much to do with Evoni until they'd begun journaling and Sage was making sure the others knew Chai only had their best interests in mind. Evoni had approached him, fluctuating between different sizes, and so desperate for positive energy.

He'd done the same thing he'd done with Danny; they'd listened to music and danced amongst their mindscape, in a bedroom that did not exist. They'd jumped and shouted and swayed, singing into random objects as though they were microphones.

They'd begun to fall in sync, and that was when he sensed Evoni's desire for… guidance. She hadn't dared to speak about it, ashamed, but he saw, and he knew what he had to do.

“You guys like some of the same music,” Chai finally says, blinking away the memories. “And your sense of style has some overlaps. You're not too different.”

Dani hums absently, lost within their own thoughts.

[juniperkinglet]

hi hi!!

📚Do you have a go-to reading spot or do you read everywhere?

📔Do you have any bookish rituals or habits that you follow before, during, or after reading a book?

hi!!

Do you have a go-to reading spot or do you read everywhere?

i do the thing you're not supposed to do and mostly read on my bed lol... it's just the comfiest!! we don't have a couch, and my back & POTS don't like not being horizontal on a soft surface lmao. i have a hammock chair on the back porch i sometimes read in, though not too often cuz my body hates Weather.

Do you have any bookish rituals or habits that you follow before, during, or after reading a book?

i started tracking my reading process on goodreads this past year and i'm enjoying that a lot! it helps me remember what i've already read, what i'm currently reading, and keeps me on track with a book instead of going so long without picking it up that i forget everything and have to start over lol. the amount of serotonin i get when marking a "reading" book "read" and seeing Number Go Up is like WOO

i also tend to immediately go to ao3 once i've decided i like a book and see if any fanfic exists haha. for books like aftg there's a ton, but i read a bunch of 70s-90s high fantasy novels too, and a lot of times there's pretty much no fandom. so if one or more fics are there, i get super excited!!

once i'm done with a book, i usually at least make a playlist for it -- as long as i liked it, which, if i finished it, i probably did. big fan of listening to songs that remind me of blorbos when i'm on long car rides or in the bath. sometimes i'll do an art about it, and an occasional fic (most of which i don't post whoops lol).