#verse later but. yeah.

[quidam-sirenae]

Ok tell me if anything is wrong:

Facetiam meus amans

In funebre ea’est risens

Sciat odium omnorum

Sanctum ea crederam

Si num caelum semper dixit

Augor ultimus eam’est

Omnes vesper meum cinxit

Venemum novum unxit

Natus sumus

Aeger dicunt

Sine virtum offerit

Est cubiculum cultus

Solus caelus ibo ad sum

Decorae corpae tuum

Aeger nato

Sed amabam

Iube me adprobos.

Cipe a vesta

Mendacis par cunae templum colo

Parares sica, peccae meus oro

Immortalis mortis da ego

Di boni

Dem vitae mihi

[braisedhoney]

time to try again.

[bugsinshoes]

AYFORD COMIC BE UPON YE!!!!!!!!!!

after many weeks of tedious work. IT'S HERE!!!!!!!!!! the long awaited "aysel meets ford" comic. i am very happy with how this turned out

also ACTUAL proper lore. it's insane. never seen before. i'm gonna rest now

[thevioletcaptain]

I know the ask is about ships but could you make a non ship one with Dean and Carlos from the Winchesters? I can't think of an exact thing for Dean to say, but the first sentence can be what Dean would say for their first meeting. Thank you if you can (*^‿^*)

"I like your hair," Dean says, staring up from where he's clinging to the bottom of Mary's winter coat, and Carlos grins wide when he adds, with all the breathless gravity of a four year old eager to impress their opinions upon a new friend; "It's swooshy and it's pretty like Mommy's hair, and your-- your beads are pretty and shiny and shiny is my favorite color."

"Swooshy and pretty and shiny is exactly what I was going for, so thank you, little buddy."

Even with almost six years between now and the last time he'd seen Mary, Carlos is relieved to find that they still have a good sense of one-another -- can still communicate silently, swiftly, like they used to when it was life or death. He meets her eye, and her face softens, and understanding passes between them before he slides one of his lucky beaded bracelets -- the bloodstone one -- free.

Dean's eyes light up when he takes it.

When he smiles, he looks just like his mother.

[for this askbox game if anyone else wants to send me a prompt]

[itsartistickiwi]

Pencil doodles I've done today (yes I kinda messed up on Spot's hands but I don't have an eraser so I can't fix em' RIP)

Please do not repost my art, thank you.

[lostwords-found]

I feel like Faulkner *thinks* he's the clever little shit who's baffling his opponent at chess by eating the pieces when they're not looking--meanwhile completely failing to realize that his opponent straight up poisoned all the pieces before ever inviting him to play.

[melien]

🎂🎂🎂

[coquelicoq]

— Diable ! vous avez été à Londres. Est-ce de Londres que vous avez rapporté ce beau diamant qui brille à votre doigt ? Prenez garde, mon cher d’Artagnan, ce n’est pas une bonne chose que le présent d’un ennemi ; n’y a-t-il pas là-dessus certain vers latin… Attendez donc. — Oui, sans doute, reprit d’Artagnan, qui n’avait jamais pu se fourrer la première règle du rudiment dans la tête et qui, par son ignorance, avait fait le désespoir de son précepteur ; oui, sans doute, il doit y en avoir un. (Les Trois Mousquetaires, XXIII, 366)

shut up this is so funny. i am always out here lecturing 20-year-olds with latin sayings i can't remember. i'm always going halt young person and heed the wisdom of the ancients! if i could just remember how it goes...give me a minute... and they're always like yeah yeah old man whatever. typical interaction.

[fishermcn]

scorned be the sea's daughters.

Beneath their feet the wooden vessels hum and groan with the din of their quarries' songs, and the gathered Fishermen steady their footing and test the tautness of their ropes, waiting with bated breaths for the tension to break and their hunt to begin in earnest. Hours spent not paddling nor steering but drifting on waters flowing to the whim of the Queen Below, the tainted riverways as much a slave to Her will as the raging sea from which She first dredged Herself from. Nary a breath out of turn is exhaled, nor a twitch of the muscle save for gripping ever more tightly the rigging tying the ragged band of hunters to one another, for all it takes for their quarry to sense them would be an errant ripple... so late is the hour of night and so dark is the evening without the moon that it'd been impossible to say when it was that they've arrived, the shores of the great lake out of sight even as they take to finally stirring the waters with oars to assume positions and lure out their prey.

With such obvious baiting, they were not left waiting for long. The first man is dragged from the boat with a scream he can see but not hear, eyes bulging with terror and mouth agape as he disappears beneath the surface without so much as a splash. The second flails at the touch of clawed hands, lashing out with a shout that's choked with pain, then water as his head cracks against the boatside before joining the first beneath the dark depths. Another joins him, then two more as the beasts seize from amongst the ragged band most unwitting consorts, before their brethren respond-- knives are drawn and flint retrieved, and the midnight's shadows are chased away with the grinding of sparks into torchlight. They flare to life almost at once, illuminating the waters within their wide, loose circle only enough to see the distorted forms writhing just beneath as they dart to and fro. A chorus of their own rises to war with the siren's song, a hail of hellfire unleashed from the iron maws of blunderbusses and rifles, and their prey shake the timbers beneath their feet in rage and pain as their blood paints the water crimson.

Their wooden vessels groan with the sudden swell of the dread song from just below the surface, the brackish waters churning furiously with the fury they've willfully roused, and Samuel Whist breathes in time to every kick of the rifle. Even deafened by beeswax, even with the press of frantic bodies and the trembling of the rowboat, his aim strikes true time and again-- steady, breathe, release, and a Daughter bares pearlescent fangs in a snarl now forever frozen. Steady, breathe, release, and the scales of another are torn like wet paper as a bullet pierces her heart and keeps her from seizing another Fisherman.

Another bullet, another jerk of the rifle, another slain Daughter of the Queen Below, before the waters to his left erupt with sudden violence, hooked claws only just failing to maul his arm but shredding the firearm as though it's mere kindling. In the guttering torchlight her face might've been the picture of beauty, high cheekbones and full lips... yet they part to reveal a maw of shark's teeth to match the cruelty of her blackened eyes as she slithers aboard, and for the cry of the dread song that pours over them from her throat there could be no mistaking her for anything but a monster. Beside him, Grime clutches his head as tears of blood pours from his ruined eyes and Wren slumps forward without so much as a gurgle in death, and Sam's own ears scream from the strain even with the beeswax.

She lunges then, murderous melody still upon her cruel lips, and Sam lashes out with the edge of his saw-toothed knife even as he reaches for the pistol on Wren's corpse. Her spined tail lashes with the force of a rogue wave, flinging Grime into the hungry waters with the muffled snapping of bones and nearly capsizing the rowboat as her claws savage the prow, screaming in rage as a bullet punches a hole clean through her shoulder. Blood and sapphire scales scatter across the boat as another two shots bloody the beast before the Daughter closes the distance, and Sam only just manages to avoid getting his head taken off by her fierce jaws, the pistol knocked from his hand from the sheer strength of her. Another rake of her claws goes just wide of gutting him as he slashes in kind with his own blade, furious red lines drawn across his stomach with sickening ease even as the teeth on his knife wrenches another wail from the Daughter as it flays open hideous wounds along her side.

No way out, though. Her grip is iron as the Daughter seizes Sam on the next swing, wrenching his shoulder out of place before slamming him into the floor of the vessel, the howl of pain in his throat choked to death as the wind's driven from his lungs. Her expression shifts to something more harrowing than hatred as the curtain of her sodden hair obscures any sign or sight of hope, abyssal eyes almost demure in their hunger even as her jaws part and claws clench even tighter where they've bitten into his thin shoulders... before jerking, suddenly, confusion the last thing passing across the beast's face before slumping overtop of him as the thunder of another gunshot peals out faintly.

Wheezing, coughing, Sam scarcely has the strength to shove her off of him nor the moment to try before another boat bumps into his own none-too gently. A rough kick to the Daughter frees him up to take a shuddering wheeze of air before a familiar pair of hands, as calloused and rough as his own, all but heave him back onto his feet and into her chest.

"Carline." His voice is a harsh rasp, and the round of coughing that strikes him probably kills the already quiet affection in his voice.

"Sam." There's relief and concern and about a hundred other things all balled up and gummed up just beneath her thin layer of snark, thankfully. "Little too fresh with me, aren't you?"

"Shut up." He doesn't quite lean into her, but it's a near thing as the minutes pass, his breathing steadying and the coughing fit he'd been fighting tooth and nail dying back down. With a quick squeeze of her hand, he steps back, scanning the remaining vessels and the now calming waters shrewdly even as he starts rooting about for his knife. "Lose anyone?"

"Grim, Hook." He hears more than sees the slight shrug to her shoulders.

"Anyone important?"

"Nah, just bastards. You?"

"Grime... and Wren." He lets a frustrated sigh hiss through his teeth, soot-stained fingers smearing with blood as he tears a rag from Wren's cloak to cover up the corpse's empty eye sockets. "Stupid fuck. Told'm not to skimp on th'wax." His hands linger over Wren's pockets before crossing the dead man's hands over his chest with a shake of the head.

"Shit. Stupid bastard."

Sam feels her fingers just tangle in the tangled mess of his hair as Carline crouches beside him, shoulders just touching. He soaks it in, lets it and the sorrow linger long enough to ache, before shunting it back into its box to deal with later as what little Wren had to his name finds its way onto his person. "Blackhart still kickin'?"

There's a sudden, raucous cheer that echoes across the lake, led by a particularly loud and familiar roar. The dark green of Carline's eyes seem to gleam, the crow's feet accompanying her dry grin making her seem all the more amused. "Seems so."

Sam doesn't even bother giving voice to his thoughts, his flinty eyes saying more black oaths than he possibly could in a single breath as he follows Carline onto her markedly more intact rowboat, the morning light only just signaling the arrival of the day through the thick cover of clouds. With a rope lashed to the old ship, it isn't long before the two of them are paddling properly to join in the supposed success of another hunt.

[enginator2000]

infinite doodles 51-60 from last year. i love my infinite plushie so much, it looks so goddamn stupid and i like to violently shake it around. my real dog, kefla, actually stole him off of my bed a few weeks ago and i caught her chewing on his hair. i wasnt mad though, its what he deserves. plus kefla is just too cute to stay mad at. if you could see her, you would understand

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

[deathfavor]

@yeonban said: [ 5. ] jgy combs his fingers through xy's hair in the aftermath of a traumatic event, gently whispering xy's name along with words of comfort. / LISTEN............ the au where they meet again after the whole yi city debacle...

a yellow sunrise

EVERYONE WAS A FOOL. Xiao Xingchen. Song Lan. Xue Yang. But Xiao Xingchen was the biggest fool. He deserved what happened. Foolish idiots like him deserved to feel the bite when the world revealed its ugly colors. Xue Yang was disgusting? SO WAS THE WORLD. Xiao Xingchen would talk about saving people, saving the world, but in the end, he hadn't saved anyone. Wasn't this Xue Yang's plan from the beginning? Make Xiao Xingchen into a complete fool and when he got done of toying with him, he'd cut his strings? Except Xiao Xingchen had severed the strings first without his permission, had cut Xue Yang's fun short all because of Song Lan. And for how Xiao XIngchen supposedly forgiving was, he hadn't even bothered to listen to Xue Yang at all as soon as he heard his name. HYPOCRITE. HYPOCRITE LIKE ALL OF THEM. But the dead listen. Xue Yang will make Xiao Xingchen listen, will make him continue to play. XIAO XINGCHEN DOESN'T GET THAT RIGHT. It's better like this....it's better like this...

Xue Yang feels like a matted, flea-bitten street dog as he lays passive rather than docile under Jin Guangyao's touch, feeling fingers combing through his black hair. The happy memories cling to him like an irritating fleas buried in fur even as he gnaws and bites and scratches to rip the memories off. ( Why? Why did he have to be given a taste of the sunlight? ) But those memories hadn't been for Xue Yang. They'd been for a stranger as far as Little Liar and Xiao Xingchen had been concerned. To them - he, Xue Yang, didn't exist or was dead like so many others thought. Maybe it was best to pretend that version of him - of maybe what he COULD have been - was dead too. But the USELESS kind of dead.

Xue Yang is alive. Jin Guangyao is cradling him so carefully, whispering his name in his snake-charming voice over and over. So softly, so smoothly. And Xue Yang . . . doesn't really care if it's a scheme or if its genuine. LIKELY A BIT OF BOTH. Hearing his name from someone who knows him, all his sides, makes him DESPERATE TO HEAR IT AGAIN. Desperate to sink his teeth into the flesh of sound and lock his jaws to never let go. Xue Yang, Xue Chengmei, it doesn't matter. He's one and the same with those two names - one's just a silly formality as he's concerned. ( So he says, but Xue Yang has never gone a day without the necklace he was gifted on that day at Jin Guangyao's insistence of the ceremony. ) Jin Guangyao's voice grounds him. He's here. Every ugly part of himself it here, everything that makes Xue Yang Xue Yang.

" I'm fine. " Xue Yang grumbles but makes no effort to pull away from the attention spent on him with delicate fingers or his velvet cushioned name. They BOTH KNOW it's not quite true but to confront the subject matter directly is not Xue Yang's style. Not unless you want suspicion and hostility and rejection or deflection. Even if the details were unknown, clearly something has thrown nimble and steady-footed Xue Yang off his usual balance. He hadn't even bothered to eat anything. If he was fine they wouldn't be like this. It's Xue Yang's guilty secret. Xue Yang is many things. Cruel, ruthless, sadistic, wary, and disdainful. But he STILL RESPONDS WELL to warmth from those he allows. Delights in treats and simply pestering - Xue Yang survives fine on his own, but thrives better with someone else. A counterweight in some way to help reign him in where his own weaknesses let him otherwise rampage.

His name sounds so nice from Jin Guangyao after years of not hearing his own identity that it gives him that same ache in his stomach as after eating too much candy. WARM and too much but the craving STILL LURKING.

Bastard.

Xue Yang snorts and cracks his crimson eyes open, rolling onto his back to stare up at Jin Guangyao's perfect expression. He's always reminded Xue Yang a bit of those B BRONZE or STONE STATUES. Especially the bronze. Stunning to the eye, but the inside entirely different. Not any less fascinating or nice as far as Xue Yang is concerned, but most people wouldn't agree. Most people wouldn't like the reality under Jin Guangyao's fabrications. Certainly not the other cultivators if they knew what Xue Yang knew. Jin Guangyao doesn't falter even now when they can see each other's faces ; if Xue Yang drew his sword he doubts there'd be anything more than a insouciant blink. Funny how trust works sometimes. Xue Yang trusts Jin Guangyao to have a whole book of schemes to kill him if needed just as much as Xue Yang trusts Jin Guangyao enough to willingly lay here calmly and let the other touch his hair and offer a more palatable dose of warmth.

" A-Yao. " Xue Yang stares up at him for a long moment without saying anything before he gives a wry huff threaded with amusement. " At least I can always trust you to be you. " It's a statement paradoxically CLEAR and UNCLEAR given how well Xue Yang understands the other's ability to pretend. But Xue Yang is certain Jin Guangyao is clever enough to understand. And from Xue Yang, it's a compliment. In its own way. Normally he might follow up such words with a tease or light jab, but not this time. He looks tired. Sleep has been fleeting and he rolls back onto his side to let his eyes close again.

" Can I stay here tonight? " He murmurs the question. With how the other is offering comfort in his own way, he's FAIRLY CERTAIN that the answer would be positive tonight. It's a rarity anyways - Xue Yang is like a wandering ghost, coming and going with nonethewiser till after. But he's tired. So tired. His spine is still stiff, never quite fully relaxed, but the tension has decreased since when he'd first wandered in and sunk down to let the other sink fingers into his hair. He doesn't look at Jin Guangyao, but he's not hiding either - only waiting.

[hallowed-nebulae]

2025 Writing Goals

I admittedly feel a bit silly posting this, since it's been. . . a hot minute since I actually did things on this blog, but, I may as well make the effort! (this is entirely inspired by @corishadowfang doing the same -- if you like my writing, go look at theirs, especially if you're a fan of kingdom hearts).

i'll be putting this under a cut for sake of post length on dashboard, as i am Well Aware that i ramble, and i imagine i'll be rambling a lot. with that said!

i had a lot of goals and ideas for 2024 - i wanted to write a lot. it's something i'd started to notice, but this year i sat down and had to acknowledge that the times of 2019, 2021, 2022 even when i could sit down and churn out 3k words in one sitting, when i could update chapters semi-consistently every few weeks or so, is entirely gone. both because of my lower levels of energy, being chronically ill, and because of college work picking up, and things of that nature.

things have definitely changed a lot over 2024 -- i'd gotten diagnosed with POTS in late 2023, and this year by talking with my doctor, other friends, i've learned that i probably have EDS, which doesn't help with the energy levels. i'm trying to get better at managing my ambition with writing - that's a major goal, is to not start huge AUs or projects without pacing myself or being realistic about how long those things are going to finish.

another goal, most definitely, is to try to rotate my WIPs, and not just focus on only one WIP at a time. i tried that with crystal verse, last year, and it definitely led to some burnout, between all the exhaustion of everything else. being able to poke at different projects and not feel guilt about that is going to be incredibly helpful, i think.

also, i want to get better at actually working on my WIPs -- take some space every day, or at least every week, to at least add something. i used to have a goal to write 10 words, minimum, ever day, and i think i'll try to adopt that again as a 2025 resolution.

as far as WIPs that i've actually got:

Tempests Verse, my beloved, is over three years old, now. i started this thing in September 2021 and it's still ongoing, can you believe it? Storm Whispers, the current WIP, is going to be on hiatus for the forseeable future, until such time as @beastenraged has the energy or time to work on it again; it's written by both of us, after all, and i don't want to pressure them by writing a whole bunch on my end that they'd have to catch up to.

i do still want to work on this 'verse, though - since Dark Road has finished, i can now properly write out what happened with those sets of events, in this AU, and how they diverged from canon. more elaboration on the ghost xehanort, what happened with bragi, what happened with baldr, how Darkness even possessed xehanort's corpse, all of that. it's exciting, even if i don't know how long writing that fic will take or entirely where to begin. i do really love working with the mobile games, so i'm excited to work on this one, whenever i have the time or energy to do so. i reread all of Tempests Verse and took notes, last year, so hopefully i can be most consistent when writing this one, despite my poor memory.

Crushing Stones Verse! will still be poked on, as always. since it's become my warm-up exercises, writing a chapter of this AU's current WIP before moving to other WIPs once i'm warmed up, it's gotten a lot easier to work on this one. i finished outlining it, also, so while it'll take a good hot minute to finish, there is an actual end in sight! i look forward to working on this project and seeing how anyone reading reacts to some of the twists that happen.

Crystal Verse, my ffxiv AU (which has rambles related to it hidden over on @crystal-verse, my ffxiv blog), will get worked on as well. i'm trying to get better and not have there be an entire 7 months between updates like what happened last year; it's very ambitious, given it's a sort of novelization of, well, all of FFXIV, but i do also have an endpoint for this one -- currently, the plan is to write up to the end of Endwalker, and then stop. (that is, 6.0 -- no patch quests, no Dawntrail, nothing, just the end of the Hydaelyn and Zodiark saga.) given how large FFXIV is, this one will take a long while to finish as well, but i do really love it, so it's worth the work.

Miracles Verse will get its rewrite! to those of you who remember the original version -- please don't mention it, and i ask of you to simply read the rewritten versions with open minds. to those of you who've never heard of this au before -- good, the original was my first "got too ambitious and scrapped the project when i failed to execute it the way i wanted", so i'm hoping to do this story justice with the rewrite. this one will also take a long while, most likely, as i'm planning on using multiple digimon canons here, but i'm confident that as long as i rotate my WIPs and outline decently, i'll be in good hands.

Red Scales Verse, a new au of mine, is my first major RWBY au! you have @cheeseandcake-from-ao3 to thank for this AU, as they provided the initial idea, and have rambled with me long enough for me to decide to write this as an entire proper AU. no idea how large this project will be, we'll likely go to post-V9 for this one (and if V10 ever gets greenlit then who knows, we could adapt that one into this AU as well). i've only recently gotten into RWBY, so i'm not sure how well this will be received, but hey, who am i if not someone who writes niche fics that are for me and me only, right? (this AU begins with the premise of: what if ruby rose, and summer rose, were wyrms akin to the story of the king lindwyrm? and then things diverge and stick to canon in different ways from there)

i want to make room for more oneshots, also! i've got a couple that i'm poking at, one for RWBY and one that's for digimon frontier, but i miss just -- writing oneshots. writing a thing and being Done with it, and not having to plan for another chapter or work in the series or whatnot. i miss oneshots and want to do that more. so, that's what i'll try to do this year!

with all of that said -- please look forward to seeing more of the various WIPs, and if you have any questions feel free to ask! it's a bit ambitious this year, but i'm trying to be ambitious in a different way than i was last year, and hopefully will be kinder to myself as far as writing.

good luck to everyone else, in 2025, and may your writing be whatever it is that you desire to get done

[hizznbyte]

hahah........ 🍕🎹🥊🧊 for neri (and type if u'd like).... heheh,,,

[giggles and kicks my feet]

🍕: Neri loves everything sweet and chocolatey, Type enjoys fruits and anything that’s like, really fruity and juicy [haha. faggot]

🎹 : Neri likes photography and music production!! Type enjoys researching history and reading.

🥊 : Neri loves sleeping and playing rhythm games. He hates doing work and keeping tidy. Type is basically the opposite. Type is a competitive overachiever who enjoys math problems and long form writing, but HATES lazing around [it makes tgem feel guilty and anxious about not having everything together constantly. Oh the neurodivergent struggle..]

🧊: For Neri? Absolutely not! Neri has been through hundreds of minor and major character redesigns. I’m never happy with how it comes out so I always end up changing something. Typewriter is currently in their second design pass.. and will definitely change soon.

[snkts]

*fine with motorcycles but hasn’t ridden them enough to know. **do mutates count ? ***give him 5 minutes and any kids will love him. ****he’s taller than logan, how’s that ?

"You know my son's around seventy, right? ... But hey, you can try."

[ghostieblotts]

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I LOVE this song as an Owen song so much. It's brilliant. It makes me miserable. I'm cringe and I'm free

[scr1et]

in my mcu verse, the events of multiverse of madness do occur — but wanda’s death is a fabrication. using absorbed power from the darkhold, she convinces the world she’s gone for good in order to find some reprieve from everything that’s happened, to recover and prepare for her next big move…

this includes a small adjustment to the hex placed on agatha harkness, giving her an out from the horribly mundane life of agnes, should she be smart enough to take it. and thanks to rio’s… gentle nudging, agatha does just that.