#tw: light gore mentioned

[corundumb]

Credit goes to @head-in-the-icloud for the au and characters. Nova is my own character. I hope you guys like it 😁

✨🌟💎🔮🃏🃏

The Royal Jesters Fanfic- Seamstress Nova

The castle is magical, as are the residents. Well, not ALL of them at least. But in Novas mind they all are, each one is nothing she’s seen before. Even the ones that seem like clones visually have such personalities. In place of flesh there’s metal and what she assumes is magic, visually unique it was crazy.

But now it’s her new normal. Having spent a few years of her life here, she’s come to know them relatively well. The Princes love to expend their energy and stress by playing as Fools, playing pranks on each other and those around them. As much as they can be annoying it’s endearing. She thought something was up when Prince Sun spent more time in her workshop, suddenly finding some fabrics and accessories very interesting. Spending a day or so flipping through sample books she’s collected throughout her professional travels. Asking when she'll head out again.

Nova kept them categorized by region, shop, and then by colors, textures, and patterns. These books are more like mini suitcases with canvas as pages in place of paper, samples of previous fabrics she’s purchased in the past. Nova took pride in her collection, even if just to look at they’re wonderful reminders of previous designs.

Her bells collection, however, she felt it almost necessary to ban him from. The constant jingling to test which ones sounded perfect got on her nerves a little, but save for that one exception it was entertaining to watch him select the fabrics and ask her so many questions. When she asked him of his sudden interest in fabric, he was being uncharacteristically vague and dismissive. She guessed it was two things, something gold and shades of reddish orange, something azure and indigo. Veeery sneaky, Prince Sun.

She recognized the fabrics immediately as they donned their new apparel. They were almost unrecognizable with the masks, the Princes looked great as Jesters! Their antics made her laugh more, even when she became a target for a little while. The number of times one or both of her braids were now ‘mustaches’ for themselves or on her was a fast way to pull her attention from work. Under normal circumstances touching her hair would be off limits but she gave them permission if their hands were clean. Despite it not being her place, she saw them as family. This doesn't mean she enjoys EVERY prank or joke, she could do without the pies in her face.

When she first met Gaiya, she was more intimidated than she was by Eclipse. Purely from height and status, and staring into her soul spooked her for sure with those big eyes. But the initial fear did not stop her from admiring the grace she carried, and instantly knew she would be hardest to design for but thrilled with the challenges. When the Queen had time to review designs and fabrics she wanted she enjoyed the most, many varieties of snacks and teas available each time.

Eclipse…

Nova respected Neptune a great deal, a powerful wizard in his own level. Having to maintain and upkeep the knowledge required takes a lot of time. She's spoken with him only a few times, primarily for basic defense spells and the benefits of enchanting threads and fabrics for certain occasions.

During her travels to retrieve orders of fabrics, jewelry, and shop on her own accord for other necessities for her job she took guarding the goods and the money she traveled with extremely seriously. To the point where in between her travels, and main job as a tailor, she kept up her abilities by training with Eclipse when possible, or basic defense spells with Neptune. She has very little in magical capability and is only so strong physically. But what most don't know about her is why she keeps her gloves on 90% of the time.

From her fingertips thin but very strong wires of light move from her control. It's very dangerous mid to close range, and she has used it for mobility. Those who don't notice the light reflecting parts of the wires may believe she's floating or flying. But most fights she partakes in end up with body parts strewn about, the ground and herself covered in blood. It's very messy. Considering the wires can cut chunks out of wagons and armored personnel with relative ease, she's comfortable traveling on her own. But this does not mean she enjoys any bloodshed, she merely wishes to not be a burden in a kingdom of animatronics as a human.

The wires do have their benefits outside of battle, she's able to move heavy rolls of fabrics with ease on her own. But she must remain mindful of their sharpness. She'll regularly use them on herself to work on tailoring for the Queen directly, or to Eclipse when she's had enough making him more cloaks than he can burn through and gives him a piece of her mind face to face. His enjoyment of this just angers her more.

[just-a-lil-otter]

Yall know I had to join in on this

Tw: light gore, burn scars, mention of death

Had to make Otto in that cool ass Dead au (made by @jacenotjason btw)

[storybook-tiles]

the future’s unwritten (the past is a corridor) | ch 1/2 | 12.3k | playlist | ghosts & hauntings

Finally, a small warble of a voice echoes through the room, “I don’t know what to draw.” he whispers mournfully, turning to look at Mike.

Mike frowns, “You don’t… what? ”

Will glances wistfully down at the pencil, a standard steely grey, still floating aimlessly in the air, “Can’t think of anything.”

Mike’s shoulders rise up to his ears. This was supposed to be simple. Just get the ghost some pencil crayons and get him to stop terrorizing them all. How the hell does it keep getting more complicated?

He inhales deeply, letting the air fill his lungs, “Well, what did you like drawing before?” When you were alive , is what he thinks but doesn’t dare to add.

Will tilts his head to the side, deep in thought. The silence stretches between them like a chasm, “It’s hard to remember,” Will admits finally, “Sorry.”

In the Fall of 1987, the Wheelers move to a new town, but when things take a turn for the worse in their new house, it's up to Mike to make contact with the strange entity haunting them.

[anniflamma]

Alright, now we have Kind Of Kings from Beloved King: A Queer Bible Musical!

This one will probably be my last from this musical. The other three songs, Obedience, All The Broken, and Fallen, are good songs, but I have no idea how to visualize them...

Maybe Obedience... buuut it is my least favorite out of the six songs.

I think that other musicals like "King David" by Alan Menken & Tim Rice or "David" by Sight & Sound Theatre are a bit more interesting. I don't know, if I continue with my hyperfixation on David/Jonathan, then I would probably use the other musicals instead. UNLESS "Beloved King" releases the whole thing!!! One day... One day...

[lost4pandora]

Here's more content for that HTTYD Reader in LU. This one has been proofread, and the reader will be using the term Y/N and they/them pronouns.

I'll be writing for more of this, and with that I'll be needing a name, so the HTTYD Reader series will henceforth be known as the "Sparks and Embers" series. I will be taking inspiration from all of the content up until HTTYD Homecoming, which includes the movie trilogy, the series between the first and second movie, and those fun bits such as Book of Dragons, Gift of the Night Fury, and whatnot. I will also be adding in my own personal headcanons here and there in terms of HTTYD dragon lore because I think they're neat and could use some of the fun stuff.

Some trigger warnings for this fic may include but are not limited to: mild gore, mild to fair descriptions of violence, mentions of a monster in pieces.

Now with that out of the way, I do sincerely hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

_________________________________________

Sparks and Embers

They heard whispers from merchants and travelers about a truly mystifying sight. A warrior donning a wolven mask, accompanied by two dragons of black and white. Who have been seen cutting down monsters in a flurry of movements, too fast for the witnesses to comprehend. All they remember is the haunting eyes and gleaming fangs of the mask the rider wore before disappearing in either a spark of lightning or a flash of flame.

Honestly, just hearing "warrior" was more than enough to catch the group's attention.

They had recently landed back into the champion's era, as told when he spotted a familiar tower in the distance. After regaining their bearings, they let the Link in question guide them to the nearest settlement, which happened to be the East Akkala Stable. It was there that they had decided to rest for the night, perform an inventory check, tend to wounds, repair damaged clothing or items, and the like.

In the midst of such, they happened to overhear the conversations from the other travelers that came and left. All about the individual who rode on the backs of dragons.

One individual, a hylian merchant, had been speaking to the stablehand about what he saw on the road. He spotted the trio resting along the tops of the Dueling Peaks as the sun began to set below the horizon.

Another traveler, a Rito, had chimed in that on her flight here, she swears that she saw someone walking on the dragon's backs, performing tricks for the fun of it. She remembers that they were hylian, with silver ornaments in their hair and a fluffy fur cloak wrapped around their shoulders. 

Lastly, a pair of children, the stablehand's sons, told the gossiping adults they were saved from monsters by one of the dragons. They said that it was white and sparkly, giggling madly when they mentioned that it sounded like a really big cat.

All these stories had the Chain curious and somewhat suspicious. It was the topic of conversation once they had left the stable the next morning.

"A hylian with a wolf mask accompanied by two dragons," Warriors echoed. "I can't say I've heard that one before."

"Me neither. It seems a bit surreal, doesn't it?" Hyrule replies, looking toward Wild. "You said there were dragons here, do you know who this dragon rider could be?"

The champion shook his head. "Not a clue. The dragons I know are huge and are surrounded by so much elemental magic that no one could even safely approach them."

"You think it's related to our problem?" Legend asks aloud, arching a brow.

"It could be," Wild replies. "But I doubt that it is. You heard those kids, the dragons and their rider saved them. It'd be weird that they'd be willing to cut down their own allies if they were working with the enemy."

Warriors nods at the reason. "Agreed. It has to be something else."

Time finally decides to make his opinion known. "No matter the case, it would be best that we seek this dragon rider out. We will most likely be getting something useful out of it either way."

The rest of the group didn't argue, coming to a consensus on their leader's statement. So they kept trekking onward toward their next destination: Hateno Village.

It was a fairly calm trip from there on out.

You know, up until they were ambushed.

One could call it an unexpected turn of events, though they knew that really it wasn't. It was inconvenient and extremely irritating at that point more than anything, but at least they were somewhat prepared for it. Weapons were drawn, magic was sparking, and everyone in the group had steeled themselves as the enemies came in droves.

When the first monster approached the Link that was closest to it, their sword came down in one sweeping motion. When sharpened steel sliced through soft flesh, a messy stain of black blood coated the blade's edge.

The situation had gone from irritating to bad very quickly.

Upon witnessing the sight of the ebony ichor, each Link had made a silent yet unanimous agreement. Pick a section and focus on your batch of monsters. It was easy enough.

Or it would have been had one not been corralled away from the others, and it had to be the youngest of them too. The sailor in particular could feel himself getting angry about the idea of being cornered, mostly because of how he'd definitely be getting babied by the captain, rancher, and probably even the old man once he rejoined the group later. Alas, he was preoccupied with fighting for his life to really let the anger settle into his bones, so instead he chose to channel it into his next set of attacks.

Swing, dodge, parry, duck, swing, swing, roll.

A familiar set of words that would repeat themselves in Wind's mind in random patterns. A mantra that every hero knew by heart, or would soon come to learn one way or another.

Wind couldn't remember how many monsters he had cut down. His sword was coated in their foul smelling ichor, his heart was racing, and his mouth felt dry. He was tired and the adrenaline pumping through his veins wouldn't last forever. Despite this, he doesn't let up.

He then felt something invisible seizing his lungs, a dreaded feeling. Fear, he deduced. He feels his posture stiffen as he looks around frantically for the cause of it. His head jerks up as a thundering roar rattles the trees around him. He turned his head, his eyes growing wide as a white maned lynel entered his field of vision.

It was safe to assume that the lynel was black blooded as well, and the sailor was in no position to even consider engaging it in battle. The only thing useful he had on him was a single, half empty healing potion that would do very little in this situation. The thought of making a tactical retreat to regroup with the others crosses his mind, but the idea is quickly discarded when he sees that the lynel has spotted him from its place across the field.

He can't outrun it.

It knows that he can't.

So it charges.

Wind thinks he can hear the distant shout of one of the others. He makes an attempt to call for them, opening his mouth to yell—   that's when he hears it. A strange whistling, high pitched and piercing, echoing through the air and in his eardrums. It was unlike anything he's ever heard before, and his mind still riddled with adrenaline shook itself for a possible answer. Although, the more he thought about it, the more he began to realize… that……….

…was it getting louder?

The sound distracts him to the point where he almost forgets about the lynel galloping towards him rapidly. He can feel its heavy footsteps shake the ground as it gets closer and closer. The beast is more than halfway across the field when it happens.

A speeding ball of violet blue fire comes out of nowhere and hits the lion centaur straight in the chest point blank. The impact knocked it to the ground, and he thinks he can see its black blood splatter across the grass. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the monster had sustained an irreparable amount of damage (a polite way of saying that its top half of its body was definitely in pieces).

He feels his namesake blow past him, a blur of white entering his field of vision as it lands just mere feet away from him.

It's big, noticeably bigger than Epona, with a lithe and lean body shape. Its features were surprisingly round and soft from what he could see, and it was coated in white scales that shimmered with blue, purple, and pink undertones. Its wings were noticeably larger in comparison to the rest of its body, and its tail was adorned with fins shaped sort of like fairy wings. It almost looked like it was…

…like it was a dragon.

Its body was crouched in front of him, its back arched into a defensive posture with its wings raised to make itself look bigger. He couldn't see its face, but he could hear it snarl. It was most likely looking at the body of the lynel it had just blasted to hell and back.

He peered over at the lynel's body, or what was left of it really, to see it crumble and dissipate into smokey red embers before fading completely. The dragon relaxes as it folds up its wings, its head raising up and allowing Wind to see two round ears perk as it scans its surroundings, though he could also see that there were also two smaller nubs beneath them. Its gaze soon fell on the young hero, causing it to let out a soft warbling purr.

He wasn't expecting to see such non-threatening features on a mythical creature that had just taken out a lynel in one attack only moments ago. Now that he had a much clearer view of the dragon, it looked less like a dangerous beast of ire and flame and more like a scaly marshmallow that someone had dumped an entire box of glitter on.

Lavender hues eyed him curiously, once hostile slits rounding out to more passive ovals. He could see two separate leather strings decorated with various charms and precious stones hanging around its neck. A black armband with silver ornaments was secured along its upper right arm, the ornament itself shaped like a four pointed star.

It squinted its eyes for a moment, before leaning its head forward to sniff at him from a distance. Wind wasn't sure what to do when it began to approach him, taking slow and careful side steps toward him. It stopped for a moment, and he saw its eyes staring at the blood stained sword in his dominant hand.

He could practically hear the lecture that he would definitely be getting for what he was about to do next, but had since decided that his curiosity of the result outweighed the certainty of consequence. He put his sword down, and took a good few steps away from it.

That seemed to be enough for it to continue its approach. Once it was right in front of him, it lowered its head with its ears flattened against its neck, as if to assure him that it meant no harm. He raised his left hand, the one that wasn't nearly as bloody as the other, and held it out to the dragon.

It tilted its head, sniffed, before leaning forward and rubbing its head against his hand.

Wind couldn't stop the smile that tugged on the corners of his lips, spreading out wider when it began to purr. He pressed the palm of his hand against the top of its head, marveling at the smooth feeling of its scales. He noted that it felt somewhat warm, and that its body was vibrating from the intensity of its purring.

He let out a shout of laughter when it suddenly pressed its whole body toward him, thankfully not on. It curled around him until the front half of its body was on one side and its tail on the other. It rolled onto its back, exposing the pale blue coloring going from its neck all the way down its chest and underbelly. Wind was more than willing to indulge the dragon and give it the pets it desired.

"You're way nicer about being pet than Wolfie is," he comments, scratching the dragon's belly. "You don't even growl or bite either!"

Wind hears the same whistling sound that the dragon had made previously, though this time it was brief and much more calm. He was about to turn to see what it was before he was distracted by a wet and slimy tongue dragging itself across his cheek. His expression morphs into one of disgust as he reaches up to wipe off the dragon's admittedly very sticky and thick saliva with his arm. Though it's clear that he isn't actually that mad about it, judging from the smile that was still present on his face.

"Lux, there you are! Why did you…."

He freezes, standing up straighter at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

"What have I told you about personal space!" He turns to the owner of such. "Shoo, off! Dårlig drage, skam!"

The white dragon, whose name he now knew to be Lux, cooed softly in apology. It rolled back onto its feet, nuzzling Wind's shoulder one last time before darting toward the newcomer with its head ducked down. It cooed and warbled at them once they had dismounted the black dragon they had arrived on.

Wait, black dragon?

His expression changed into one of shock and realization.

The warrior donning a wolven mask, accompanied by dragons of black and white.

He looked the person over, and sure enough he spotted a wolf mask with its face twisted into a threatening snarl attached to one of their belts. They wore a fur cloak around their shoulders and a pair of dragon fang earrings. From what he can see of their arms, he spotted a myriad of tattoos depicting swirls of dragons painted across their skin.

The black dragon, who was also glaring at Lux trying to suck up to the stranger, was noticeably bigger in size. The ears along its head were much longer and in great numbers. There were shark fin shaped dorsal plates running a line down the length of its spine that became increasingly smaller as it trailed to the end of its long tail. Speaking of, its tail also seemed to have that set of fins on either side, though they were sharper looking than the other dragon's in comparison.

Well, he might be forgiven for petting the dragon now that he's found who the group has been looking for.

Speaking of whom, he saw them looking towards him after scolding the white dragon.

"I'm sorry about Lux, she doesn't exactly understand the concept of respecting people's personal bubbles," they said to him "Did she hurt you at all? I know she likes to lean, but I don't think she realizes that she weighs nearly a ton."

Wind blinks, taking a few moments to register the question before he shakes his head. "No, she saved me actually," he replied with a smile. "It-  uh, she absolutely destroyed that lynel earlier!"

The stranger's brows raised up in surprise, their gaze turning to Lux. "So that's why you suddenly disappeared. If you want to dive into battle, at least tell us first. We can't keep doing this or else I'm going to get gray hairs before I even reach thirty."

Lux rumbled softly, nudging her rider with her nose. She received a pat, which she purred under.

"They're yours?" Wind decided to finally ask, recapturing the rider's attention.

"I guess you could say that," they answered, "They're my family, more like. Sisters that I never had."

So they were both female, he'd have to remember that. "The white one's name is Lux?"

Another nod of confirmation. "Her full name is Faeralux, Lux for short," the stranger then raised a hand to gently stroke their fingers across the black dragon's head. "And this is Rhae, which is short for Rhaeneir."

"Of course, my name is Y/N," they added. "Might I know the name of the boy my overly affectionate Light Fury saved from peril?"

"My name is Link! But I'm going by Wind right now," he answers, biting his tongue on the reason why he's going by the name Wind.

Thankfully Y/N doesn't question it. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Wind. Thank you for tolerating Lux's affection, and not attacking her."

It doesn't take a genius to understand why someone would attack Lux, yet even if she's a dragon, she doesn't look or act like any he's ever seen. Granted, he only really has Valoo for reference on that front, but his point still stands.

He opens his mouth to ask another question when he was suddenly interrupted.

"Wind?!"

"Sailor, where are you?!!"

The trio of dragons and dragon rider all perk up to the voices. Y/N turns to him and speaks, "Is that your flock?"

Wind nods, and Y/N turns toward Lux. "I'm staying with you from here on out. I don't need you to get any more ideas about diving without saying anything."

The white dragoness coos softly at her rider's decision before leaning down for Y/N to hop on. Yet before they could, Wind interrupts the action.

"Wait!" Y/N turns to look at him questioningly. "Me and my group were looking for you actually, so if you wouldn't mind, could you stay here until they come?"

The black dragon, Rhae, narrows her eyes scrutinizingly at the sailor, causing him to shrink the slightest bit under her gaze. Y/N waves a dismissive hand to get the Night Fury to let up.

"Are they as friendly as you?" the rider asks him. "Because if they're not and are prone to the 'attack first ask questions later' instinct, I don't need them trying to kill me or my dragons."

"I promise they won't, not if I tell them that you're safe," Wind says, gazing at them hopefully. "Please?"

Rhae remains unconvinced, but she sees Y/N's resolve start to bow at the sight of the sailor's look. She grumbles lowly, her expression morphing into a look that said, Are you seriously going to bend that quickly to some random hatchling's pleading eyes??

The Night Fury gave her rider a flat look when the answer was yes, as told by the sigh of resignation Y/N breathed out. 

You're weak, Rhae warbled.

Y/N's only reply was a halfhearted swat in the general direction of Rhae's face, an attempted hit that was nowhere near making contact. It was the rider's way of saying that they didn't need her judgment right now.

"Fine, I'm choosing to trust you on this one. Don't make me regret it," Y/N says, dismissing the little mental talk that they just had with Rhae. The rider turned, to which something shiny was seen in their peripheral vision. "If that sword is yours, best you pick it up so your flock doesn't assume I disarmed and cornered you. Gods know I don't need a repeat of that problem."

Wind nods and goes to retrieve his weapon he dropped in favor of coaxing Lux toward him. Y/N hummed, perking up when they heard the bushes rustle and a mop of blonde hair emerge.

"Wind?" Crystal blue eyes search the area frantically before they land on their target. "Wind!"

The boy, who had just sheathed his sword, called back to the other. "Warriors! Check out who I found!"

The captain's face displayed confusion, brows furrowing as his lips were parted just the slightest amount as he was stopped before he could speak. Wind points to his left, and Warriors follows where it goes and is gobsmacked by what, or rather, who he sees.

Y/N's arms were crossed as they were leaning on Lux, who was currently sitting down. They raised their hand momentarily to wave, trying to look as non-threatening as possible.

Lux looked curious about the child's sibling, at least, they smelled like siblings to her.

Rhae was passive, not particularly interested or disinterested, merely there to witness.

It wasn't exactly the strangest ragtag group of individuals the captain has ever seen and believe him, he's seen his fair share. Though he would admit that this one was definitely in the top five.

Now to go tell the others about all of… this.

So much for a peaceful trip.

[maestro-of-clockwork]

[[ dhmis tv show teacher ideas ]]

[[ so over time, i've gotten ideas for the dhmis tv show teachers and so while i'm still trying to mentally flesh them out, i figure i should jot the ideas down to hold you guys over til i have something concrete!

i'll have em under this cut so it doesn't take up too much space:

briefcase guy

i'm thinking he'd be the cut-throat businessman type, the kind who absolutely does not care who he has to hurt, betray or manipulate to further his career. he wouldn't hesitate to scam people if he had to, so long as he fulfills his sales quota and gets his way. it'd also be plausible if he was greedy in that way and cut corners to keep as much money as possible. also, no matter how much brendon will ask him for connections to publishers or at least a little exposure for his novel, he flat out does not care and thinks writing or creating art isn't a "real job". he has no name yet, but if you guys have any suggestions, feel free to say, though i'd like it to start with a "b"

mortimer (coffin guy)

now i know i said in the past that it'd be interesting that he could be the embodiment of death, but i think it'd would make more sense in the logic of the show i've established that he was also created by lesley & roy. another thing about that detail would be that there would be a reason that he's under their thumb like the rest of the cast is. as for his personality, it's different from the actual show, similar to how the web series teachers were different people behind the scenes. he's serious and deadpan most of the time, and someone who likes a bit of dry humor and sarcasm. he's still a mortician, but as i'm writing this, i'm thinking i should add the little twist of him practicing some of his skills on the trio. nothing is personal about it, of course. to him, he's just trying to get better at his job. that, and he never does anything that would outright kill them: he cuts them open and looks at their organs in a mock autopsy, but makes sure they don't lose too much blood and makes sure that every organ is back in its proper place.

lily & todney

lily and todney are just as strange as they are in the show (besides the messing themselves part bc let's be real, i don't feel comfortable writing that even though it's played for laughs). they're really uncanny, similar to antonio, except it's much more obvious. they have little self-awareness and act kind of like a hivemind in some way. i feel like they'd be like those twins in that one scene in the shining, staring people down sometimes until asked what they want before finally speaking. like not speaking unless spoken to, but only when they're not teaching about family at that moment...then they don't shut up speaking of their family, they barely have any sentience and are basically barely-living props but the twins adore them anyway and somehow have a kind of telepathy with them like they do each other. the twins and their family are mostly reclusive and stick to themselves, like how they describe a family. they're co-dependent on each other and don't realize it because they haven't been "programmed" to. going on the programming bit, it's a deliberate decision on roy's part that their mother isn't there. it's to create that conflict and feeling of emptiness it gives them to want to fill that void by trying to make doi their pretend-mom. they know he's not really their mom, but to them, a pretend-mom is better than no mom because "a family isn't complete without one".

warren the "eagle"

warren is first one i got to having ideas about. his insecurity, loneliness and desperation for attention and to be liked is what really drives him to do what he does. like in his episode, he's clingy and ignorant of other people's feelings in favor of his own because all he knows is what he wants and how much he wants it. he has some level of awareness but he craves a real connection so badly that he's toxic in how he goes about it. he wants to impress people with things like his podcast and his "business sense" to the point where there's no room for other's wants or needs. the kicker is that he doesn't think any of this is what drives people away. whenever he loses a potential friend, he takes it very personally. to cope with how hurt he is over these lost connections, he convinces himself that he was just too good for them, as implied in his presentation. he has no self-worth, so he builds these lies and pretends he's a confident and accomplished person when he really isn't. as you might expect, antonio's already got plans for him. after all, insecure people frequently catch his interest

choo choo man (i forgot the name i had for him)

this poor man is a fossil. he's very forgetful and doesn't really know what he's doing half the time, basically like the stereotype of an old grandpa you see in movies. even antonio would make jokes about how old he is, as ironic as that is. he's not a nice person even to older people when he's not taking naps, you can find him listening to old timey-music or rambling a bit about his pre-programmed memories as a train conductor and how life was back then. although his thoughts get jumbled up sometimes, you can still get an idea of what he's trying to say. i feel like he'd have really good life advice if you read between the lines of what he's saying, and would generally be an easy-going person

electracey

first off, i imagine they're very passionate about music and playing the guitar! they'd probably be the type of person who feels like music is a part of who they are, and that's how they express themself. i feel like you could ask them to play any song that famously uses a guitar and they'd absolutely be SHREDDING that guitar with almost supernatural skill. mostly it's due to their passion, but i think their being an android would help with that as well i also feel like they'd be an outgoing and upbeat person whose positive energy is infectious, and if the trio wasn't desensitized, i think they'd actually look forward to their lessons. speaking of, i also think they'd really take an interest in electricity, how it works, how it came to be, what you can do with it, etc.. they'd think it's super awesome that it brings people all these possibilities and especially what it's done to advance technology when it comes to music

aaand that's all the ideas i have for now! hope you guys like these concepts because i know i like em so far! ]]

[beautifully-execut3d]

@jeonginkang | Setting: Their regular hotel room | Local Time: 01:33

"I'm mad at you.", Seine whispers into the dark, voice then suddenly raised, "For stealing the forks away right in front of my eyes. I wanted them so badly, yes? They're slutty. I'm a slut. We were a perfect match." The woman pauses, then closes the door behind herself and makes her way over to their usual table right next to the window. It illuminates the room with enough light for her to trip, but she's been here often enough, anyway. "Okay, maybe you are a slut, too. But I'm better at being one. I'm the best. Slut is my job."

Something about her, it's gradually changed. A snake still, teeth all sharp and glowing in the dark, poison dripping off of them; eyes as burning as they used to be. But she's hectic, deep down. Deep down in her chest, Seine's heart beats like a bitch, ready to jump out of her chest, right down all stories of this building, just to smash onto the ground like a bird flown against a window. Something has happened, again - and she can't let it go. In her head, Seine is sure that this is her curse.

"What was so important that you wanted to see me?"

[3-2-whump]

About the Author, or Adoption Trauma and Whump

Hi dear readers, this is 32W. Author, casual artist, and transnational adoptee, and as we reach the 28th anniversary of my adoption, I’m here to talk about adoption trauma and how it relates to whump.

TW/CW: adoption trauma, geopolitics, religious trauma (briefly mentioned/implied), gaslighting (briefly mentioned), objectification (briefly mentioned, sexual acts against a minor (briefly mentioned), metaphorical light gore

NOTE: The experiences of 32W with adoption are their experiences alone and cannot nor should be representative of every adoptees’ experiences. I love the people I call my parents, and I will always see them as such, but that does not change the basic facts that I will lay out below. This author also does not claim to be a geopolitical expert, nor a communist party expert, nor a Chinese spy -my god, I can’t believe I think I need to write that! Reader Discretion is advised.

I have been writing whump stories since my high school days back in 2010, and I have been writing pretty much the same story on and off for the past fourteen years. The names have changed, the faces have sort of changed, and the contexts have varied widely depending on what genre I had a phase in at that time, but a few core elements stayed the same:

Loss of culture

Loss of family

Loss of country

Loss of mother tongue

Forcibly living with someone who, though they could be worse, is still being forced to live with someone

Forced assimilation

Objectification

Losing trust in someone you trusted, respected, and loved

And while I have been writing whump with these themes for the past fourteen years, it only just occurred to me a couple months ago that all of those elements are also present in my personal experience with adoption. Basically, I process my adoption trauma through whump.

My parents wanted a baby. They wanted a baby after they had finally gotten my brothers out from underfoot, those problematic and troubled young men who are now strangers to me. My parents wanted a baby, preferably from another country, because of a recent court case in which the birth mother won back custody of her blood child and broke the adoptive parents’ hearts, so they wanted a baby from a place far away, where the chances of that happening were basically zero.

My parents wanted a baby.

And they got one.

From 1980 to 2016, the Chinese Communist Party implemented the One Child Policy in order to curb their country’s ever-climbing population. Consequentially, for many rural, agricultural, and often traditionalist families, this meant prioritizing sons over daughters, and thus hundreds of thousands of children –mostly girls- were scattered like stars, eventually landing in the arms of the richer, affluent Western countries. Though our circumstances of “abandonment” varied, we were all dispersed across the globe, unwilling, unaware, and now with different names and with parents that looked nothing like us.

Some of us ended up in good homes. I know I certainly did. My parents adored me, and I loved (still love?) them. They were a little weird sometimes, borderline objectifying me since I was a toddler and using religion to gaslight me into believing everything about our family situation was fine, but they also taught me about my culture, made me go to Chinese language school as a kid, and overall did their best. I’d like to think every kid, adopted or not, can say that about their parents. They did their best.

That said, this does not change the fact that they essentially bought me. This does not change the fact that I was forcibly separated from my home, my family, my culture. This does not change the fact that I have no official records and all but cease to exist until they got me. This does not change the fact that my birthday is a guess. This does not change the fact that they severed my tongue and stitched it back on, training it to speak their words, so that even after six years of Chinese school, I still cannot carry a conversation in what should be my natal tongue. That does not change the fact that I deliberately tried to lighten my skin with heavy makeup during the more cringe years of high school. That does not change the fact that my grandpa tried to molest me when I was eleven, and to this day, I am absolutely sure he never would’ve tried that shit with his blood grandchildren.

Their love and good intentions do change any of it.

So, I write whump to cope!

Please don’t feel sorry for me. I am not writing this for random internet strangers’ pity, I am just explaining rather graphically why I write the kind of whump that I write. Writing whump is cheaper than therapy. Exploring dark themes through fiction is a safe avenue for me to discover truths about myself that I did not even know before. And hopefully, my perspective may shed light on issues other adoptees may be facing that they did not have the words to express. And to those adoptees, I hear you, your feelings are valid, and my inbox is open if you want to talk. So, with that, I will conclude this essay, and promise you more good 32Whump content! Stay safe, yall!

[cringefailloserman]

watching surgery videos is like watching reality shows to me. like omg. they put one of the dentist sucker things in their heart?? crazy! not only did they shave the side of this man’s head but they also popped open his dura like kinder surprise egg

[blondiexbiites]

The way I'm writing Madison feasting on human blood is progressively becoming more and more disturbing and gory. Maybe it's because I've been watching 30 Days Of Night for two days and analyzing how these breeds of vampires feed on their prey. I have also come up with a headcanon on how Maddie can make her fangs grow bigger at the risk of tearing apart her cheeks and lips. Oh, and she's a messy eater.

[miss-sinner]

Sigh, to be a woman hopelessly in love with someone who’s more then willing to eat out my organs if I asked em too ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[shoot-of-corruption]

*gives mariku lots of head pats for being so cute with Yuugi*

He lets them abide for a few moments and lunges for them with his teeth, when it just so gets too much, snarling lightly as he caught their hand in his mouth.

Are you sure, you want to continue~? Something seems to whisper through their mind, followed by very graphic images of interesting blood spray.

[containatrocity]

Danaus Plexippus

Rusty's getting really, really tired of being the point of contact for this sort of thing.

He doesn't make the offer just to be nice- it really is something Russell enjoys, being out in the woods as the day starts- morning dew clinging to blades of grass, wetting the thick material of his work boots. He would have even made it if Clara hadn't been still injured, something he'll grill her for later. But with Duck still stationed in the tower furthest from the station, and his own deputy clocking in with a head injury, he feels all the more comfortable taking point on this- maybe he'll check his snares on the trip- rabbit season is in full force, after all. He notices, perhaps oddly, a lone butterfly, fluttering through the woods alongside him.

In his years working as a ranger, Rusty's learned a few things, perhaps strangest, and chief among them- that the forest knows when something isn't right- and if you're observant, if you're careful, you can learn how to read the signs. The usual birdsong that accompanies him across the footpaths he wanders these mornings is oddly absent, a rare chirp, here and there, as if those in the trees are unsettled- afraid to be caught by something unseen. Typically present wildlife, rabbits, rodents, and the rare deer, this early- nowhere to be found- paths showing signs of life- but devoid of it, all the same. He feels the hairs at the base of his neck start to prickle, but he pulls the radio from his belt anyway, as he reaches the first clearing. "Ranger Craven checking in, quadrant A clear, Moving to area B."

"Station A copied and clear. Tower B is standing by."

It's quite the task, clearing all the areas north station keeps an eye on- typically a two person one for the other rangers- Rusty's fondness for nature and youth spent in the deep woods surrounding Huntsville had made him one of the few capable of doing these clears alone. But as he moves deeper- further out toward the looming visage of Watchtower B, he wonders if maybe he should have brought someone for company, even if it had been Mallard's aging pet mastiff, it would have slowed him down, sure, but maybe he could have shaken the creeping... wrongness, the forest had seen fit to offer him. He supposes, at the minimum, the butterfly still close by- flitting from flower to flower but keeping pace with his footfalls, is company enough, for short notice. "Ranger Craven checking in, Quadrant B clear, moving to areas C and D."

"Tower B clear, Tower D standing by. See ya tomorrow, Rust." He clips his radio back to his belt, the ranger in tower B likely headed home to sleep. Rusty does his best to focus on anything else- pulling his battered iPod from his pocket and turning it on- playing music through one earbud as he walks deeper- something familiar to ground him against the strangeness of the morning. It's the clearing associated with Tower C, unmanned after a death in their ranks nearly a year ago, where he realizes perhaps it's not his own mind, tumultuous as it may be, making the forest more sinister today- that the animals had truly chosen to make themselves scarce in the face of something they were unfamiliar with.

The tang of blood meets his nose the same time as the smell of petrichor. You never forget it, the stench of death- he learned that in the army- that blood and flesh have a smell in tandem- one you don't catch, until something is terribly, terribly wrong- Duck had told him it was evolutionary, probably- nature bred in to make people avoid danger, the cloying copper smell of suffering, however- makes Rusty's stomach drop and the mindset of a hunter kick in. tracking along paths of footprints, animal in the mud- scavengers moving to-and-from, is simple enough. He notes boot-treads in the grass, common enough, from hunters.

"Tower D, do you have visual on me? I'm in quadrant C."

"Flash signal light?"

"On it." A pause, to illuminate his flashlight, the spotlight-level light cutting high into the trees.

"Visual confirmed." A pause. "What's up, Rust?"

"I smell blood. a lot of it. There's animal tracks all over the place, might be a larger predator but I haven't seen any bear tracks or wolf prints coming this way." He informs. "I'll keep you posted. Mark my location just in case."

"Got your six, boss."

Confirmation that if it is a wounded animal, he's not going to get eaten alive, Rusty continues, picking his way deeper into the brush, following tracks and his nose toward the bite of blood- not quite destroyed by last night's showers.

It had been Rusty who taught Sissy that butterflies were carrion bugs. Scavengers drawn to the scent of blood and dead flesh- flurries of beautiful insects oft gathered on the bones and sinew they couldn't use- parts left out to be picked clean, so they could use the bones afterward. While one butterfly might have been a calming sight, a flutter of black and orange flickering across his vision, a reminder the forest is still alive, despite the strange silence for his entire walk here-

It is the knowledge that a full Kaleidoscope of them is often little more than a death knell, an omen. And when he clears the underbrush toward tower D, a thicket canopied by trees a clearing invisible from above, he is met by the sound of hundreds of sets of tiger-patterned wings stirring into motion. There's a moment, surrounded by color and motion, that Rusty can forget what he knows about insects, that the rainbow on powdery wings shouldn't be this broad, spilling up into the sky and away from the sound of a large predator. His niece could name all of them, if she saw them take off, in the shape and color of their wings. But Rusty only needs to know the one. Danaus plexippus. The Monarch butterfly. The beautiful little orange herald of death that had unconsciously led him here.

He stops, as the insects depart- gaze slipping downward. Toward his boots in red-stained dirt that the rain couldn't carry off completely- toward the body of a young man. Twisted, defiled. He doesn't bother checking vitals on something with its bones exposed. "Tower D, Location check."

"Signal light at..." He goes numb, as the tower monitor reads out coordinates. "....you good, boss?"

"No... We got a body." The radio lights up with the chatter from every tower and station, reacting to the news- some hoping in vain it's just an animal. "Looks like that Dakota boy." He declares, pushing a hand through shaggy dark hair slowly. "Has his hunting gear with him- didn't we check him back in, last night?"

"Somebody did, I'm sure- I'll get the leger, boss."

"...thank you, Clara. Tower D, write down the coordinates. stay up there until the cops get here, gonna need you to guide us back." He waits for an affirmative. His butterfly lands gently on his palm for a moment, walking around and cleaning its features before it spreads wings once more. lingers near the body, before Rusty hisses out a swear and waves it away. "Looks like the ghosts got him. But he's still dressed like he was when I clocked him out here." He swallows tightly, crouching down and doing his best not to disturb the scene beyond what nature has already destroyed.

The edge of a wallet peers from the back pocket of blood and water soaked jeans. Something doesn't feel right about this- Rusty can't place why. He grits his teeth a moment, closing his eyes in an attempt to ground back into reality- before he switches on his spotlight and lays it on the ground- angled up to shine through the trees.

His walk to the police station is a quiet one.

His exchange with Reggie is an awkward one- the deputy trying for something playful and flirty, only to be met by Rusty's haunted gaze- and the declaration that one of their own lies dead in the forest. He's blunt and short when he brings the news to Henry- and quiet, save for location checks with D tower on the walk back to the scene. He takes point near the edge of the clearing, in case he needs to guide more people back to the scene. The forest is alive with sounds once more.

A few feet away, he watches one of the returning birds, a common kestrel soaring through the pod of butterflies, catching and eating them with reckless abandon, the insects frenzied. It pauses long enough to perch and swallow- long enough for Rusty to identify the one in its beak. the voice in his head sounds a lot like Sissy.

Danaus plexippus.

[l0verclown]

"P-Please, no! Don't kill me!"

TW! Mentions of murder, cannibalism, dismembering and basically light gore(?)

Writers note: This isn't really based off of killer chat, but it does give killer chat vibes. But it is just me writing what is on my mind. Have fun reading!

Ah, the sound of men in pain, it was music to your ears. Them begging you to not kill them, like they are some saint who fell from the heavens and so happened to be in this position.

Wrong.

With every stab, every time the knife thrusts into their chest, you laugh. The crimson liquid staining you, you didn't stop. You craved more, you wanted more, you needed more. The sound of taking someone from the world was oddly satisfying. The world was already rotting, so why not lift some dead weight from it by killing the ones causing it?

After some time, you were sure the guy was dead. There was no way he was still alive after you've at least stabbed him a good twenty times. It was a lot, yes but if it's for the greater good- Then there's no limit.

The disposal was even better, you felt a bit extra so you decided to dismember him, Cut up his body parts and just do what you feel like. Maybe you should throw some in the ocean, or maybe give them to some cannibal on the dark net. Talking about the dark net, you could also sell them, some extra cash for doing something for fun.

You decided to do all three, throwing his head in the ocean, selling his organs on the black net, and giving his limbs to a cannibal. You just helped the world get rid of a horrible person, and gave what he had to other people. Heck, you're some sorta santa if you think about it. What you might be doing is horribly wrong, but if you look at it from a different perspective, it can also be completely right.

[dipshit-does-crimes]

how touch starved of me to need to be viscerally ripped apart, kept alive just for the sick pleasure of it, as i’m getting my organs torn out one by one and slowly lose the ability to speak, but i will still smile in thanks as i let another leaf fall from my family tree. how very touch starved

[blueequin0x]

Goretober - 12] Whoops! //  Art + Speedpaint

Warning if you go to read this grimdark from this art: it is VERY dark and covers a lot of heavy topics

Was I the only autistic person who didn’t realise until YEARS later that Derpy was being manipulated in the original version of Muffins? [Probably] I’m glad that Icing on the Cake makes the manipulating Apple Bloom and Derpy more obvious to the reader lol

Semi-canon art of Derpy’s Payback, based on the Icing on the Cake rewrite by @rainbott . It’s a sarcastic “whoops” aimed at the victim 

CONTENT WARNINGS: a LOT of blood / bloodstains, a bloody knife [in a drawing], semi-realistic heart // please tell me if I missed any :]   

IMAGE UNDER BREAK

DO NOT REPOST // DO NOT REMOVE CAPTION AND CONTENT WARNINGS

total time taken: 14 hours

link to the speedpaint: https://youtu.be/xLrqhjsCx6A