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sinner-sunflower · 18 days

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P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 4/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14

More on the siblings' program.

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Lucifer stifled a chuckle as he observed his brother's expression. If only Michael knew that Lucifer had already been informed of his impending demise. He's more shocked that Heaven might be the cause of his death.

Heaven's really keen on killing him, huh.

Lucifer: I'm immortal! You're being ridiculous.

Michael: And you're being a fool! These threads just made a divine move. This had never happened before!

Lucifer: Then why tell me, huh?! Last I checked, you and Heaven could barely give a rat's ass about whether or not I'm still alive.

Michael: Because believe it or not, I do still care about you! You're my little brother, Samael!

Lucifer: I said my name is L̴͎̭̥͎͊̀u̷̧̨̟̻͓͗̍c̷̢̪̱̄̀̊̎̀͝ì̷̘͚̰̖̦̱f̴̻̮̲̮͈͈͑̓̃̃̊e̸̫̒͑͒͊͗͆r̸̨̤̀̂̚͝ͅͅ!

Sue him if he couldn't control the fiery words that erupted from his mouth. Michael always had a knack for provoking him, intentionally or not.

Lucifer: And you have a funny way of showing it. Did you know that the Fall almost killed us?! Lily and I had to lay there, surrounded by darkness, bodies so burnt we couldn't move for weeks.

Despite the looming threat posed by the King of Hell, Michael refuses to back down. Instead, he straightens his posture and closes the distance between them, showing the unwavering protector of Heaven that he is.

Michael: You don't understand! I- it was such a hard decision! It was the best option! I'm Heaven's protector and-

Lucifer: You were my protector too!

The Archangel was taken aback, a rare moment of vulnerability revealing itself in his features. Lucifer, observing this reaction, knows he has struck a chord. Despite Michael's claims of caring for his family, it's evident that Heaven had, and always has been his top priority.

Michael thinks about a lot of things too. Like how everything would've turned out different if he was never given this duty- this purpose.

Michael: They were going to kill you.

Lucifer couldn't remember the last time he had heard his brother speak to him with such softness.

Michael: Your original punishment was death. They wanted you killed. By my blade. We begged them to reconsider. You should've seen it-

The warrior of Heaven laughs wetly.

Michael: -the Archangels of Heaven, on their knees in front of people other than our Lord. It took so many meetings for them to relent. That's why you and Lilith spent a long time held in the Garden.

Lucifer: Shut up.

Michael: So, I'm really sorry that we let you down.

Lucifer: Shut up, Michael.

His brother once again composed himself, his gaze turning cold as it met Lucifer's.

Michael: But if I had the chance to go back, I would do it all over again.

Of course. Heaven always comes first.

Lucifer: You should've killed me when you had the chance. And now you think you can beat me at my own game?

He attempts to crush the thread still held in his hand, its glow resembling the purest gold. It seems to almost be trying to talk to him, to reason with him like Michael every time they meet. But it all sounds like mockery to his ears.

He hates it.

Lucifer lets out a manic laugh.

Lucifer: Divine move? Divine move? You think you have any moves at all?!

He begins to yell at the threads.

Lucifer: Maybe then, Heaven could've killed that weak, naive angel. But me? ME?! Ì̶̢̤̉'̵͙͕͑M̷̱͋̀ ̵̬͌T̴̥͠͝H̸̫́̑E̶̳̠̐̎ ̴̠̣̎̐D̷̼̕E̵̢̳͆V̶̳̩̉̋Ì̶̬L̴̥̗̾ ̴̮͝F̸̝̓̀Ų̸̠͗̑C̵͚͗K̷̺̚̚I̵̠̋̕Ň̸͎͈G̵̘̔ ̵̤͛I̸̩͐N̷̥̰̋C̸͓̒̍A̴̙̓R̵͍͛N̴̤͎͠A̵͇̟̓Ṯ̴̯͊Ḙ̴͑̇,̴̰͆̑ ̵̤́ͅÝ̴̙̫̈́O̵͚͐͒U̵̙͂ ̷̱̆͜͝Ċ̸͍̌Á̷̰́N̸͉̈'̶͇̎͂T̵̠̒ ̶͖́K̶̛̲̮̆I̸͎̘͐̃L̴̟̙̔̿L̴̜̾͊ ̶̱̥̌M̵̳̕E̵͈̯͋́!

Lucifer's disguise falters, his emotions resonating through his disguise as his golden hair reverts back to the darkness Roo had cursed him with.

The threads began humming. Were they afraid of them? Of him? That's funny, Fate itself, afraid of him? He wonders if even Death would tremble in his presence.

Michael splutters in disbelief at the sight of Lucifer's transformed appearance.

Michael: Lucifer—what? Why do you look like that? What did you-

The younger doesn't grace his brother with an answer or allow him to finish. Instead, he summons Keekee once more and swiftly opens a portal back to Hell.

Lucifer: Don't worry, Mika. I won't die that easily because I'll be there to watch Heaven fall.

Nothing matters. Not his brother's shouts of concern, not the short thread, not Roo's cryptic words. What matters is Charlie and her future.

He'll defy Fate if he has to.

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Michael slumps on a chair in exhaustion after Lucifer left. He fears for the worst of Heaven and his brother's fates.

He grabs an orb from his pocket dimension and starts to recite and incantation to call his siblings. He knows he should tell the others, to discuss The Fates, Heaven, and Sa-Lucifer. Lucifer who is clearly hiding something.

But he hesitates.

'Knowing them, they would go down to Hell to confront Lucifer and it might just make things worse with their little brother than it already is. '

Before he could make a decision, there's a loud crash from beyond the door.

Michael: Hello?

He vaguely hears shushing on the other side and a bit of arguing. Slowly, he approaches the door. He grabs the knob and swings it open swiftly.

Michael: Gabriel, I told you not to-

Michael stops in surprise as he stares at his eavesdroppers. One lets out a squeak while the other saluted him.

'A young Seraph and a winner?'

Emily: Archangel Michael! We-uh- we can explain!

Sir Pentious: Your Heavenly Grace!

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A Shameless and Teen Wolf reference??

I miss season 3b. Nogitsune Stiles was the best villain to come out of that show.

Edited some stuff! Moved a few dialogues

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spacexseven · 2 years

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resend time! this works out just fine for me I get to fix my typo hehe. ok onto the aftermath of drunk dazai now. when he wakes up the next morning and manages to pick some memories out of the painful fog of his hangover, he’s BEYOND pissed. nevermind the fact that he was the one that trapped you in his desperate embrace and cried every time you left his line of sight, he never wouldve acted that way if it wasnt for YOU. where the HELL do you get off thinking you can humiliate him like that in front of his inferiors? stupid fucking dog. he’s been too soft on you lately, hasnt he? have you forgotten who you’re dealing with? he’ll make you PAY for this, you wont suffer this much if you live one million years, mark his w-

in the middle of his mental tangent about how much he despises you for making him feel things, something catches his eye. a tall glass of water with a few little white pills next to it. he doesnt remember getting himself that. he doesnt even drink water. he’s certain he doesnt have these pills in his cabinets either (he isnt allowed to have any medications in his home), what even were they? then he notices the note the glass was placed on, written in handwriting he’d recognize anywhere was “take these if your head hurts. try to drink the water as well, it might help.”

...ah. so, you left this for him, then? that’s… nice… of you… he runs his thumb over your lettering, trying to ignore the way his entire body trembled with excitement. you… you actually thought to do something to take care of him… you must have had to run out to the store yourself to get him these pills, right? you went out of your way like that just for him… you went out while thinking about HIM, nobody else. and you did it without being asked! you even wrote him something! now he has something with your handwriting on it FOREVER! hehe, he’ll have to find a special place for it. maybe he could frame it? no, keep it in his wallet! but oh, what if someone steals it? he wouldnt be able to let that slide, would he? stealing a present from his beloved…

he cant help but break out into manic little giggles while his face goes from deathly pale with fever to deep red. he presses a little kiss against the note before setting it down so he can take the medicine you left for him. you left just a few pills for him instead of the bottle (for reasons you can probably guess), so he savors each of them as the idea of having something in his mouth and you actually touched with your hands coaxes a low moan out of him. he lays back down in a fit of giggles and crushes a pillow into his chest. he supposes he can let your behavior slide… just this once. as a matter of fact, he might even think up a few… rewards, for when he gets back <3

- 🩹

this is a bit too cute for subordinate au dazai But its ok

dazai isn't used to being cared for—he usually doesn't even care for himself. a small part of him is convinced the action was meant to be humiliating—you leaving him pills to take for a headache like he couldn't handle a couple of drinks—but the larger part of him, is a little touched.

more than a little.

knowing you went out of your way to get him medicine, even cleaning up the constant clutter in his room so he could find it easily...it made him feel a sort of happiness he hadn't in a long time. a warm, gentle feeling. wordlessly, he traces your lettering with his finger, relishing in the evidence of your effort. even your writing was so characteristic of you, and if he tried hard enough, he could imagine you crouched over the little table, scribbling out your message quickly on a paper you found lying around. did you use one of his pens or one you had on you? he couldn't tell, but he would have liked to hold on to the one you used.

still, when he swallows the pills you left, he thinks it's almost as though you're there. if he ignores the facts, he can pretend you're just outside, waiting for him to go out and greet you with a kiss. maybe, you were in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, or in the living room, putting away opened but unfinished books. he stares longingly at the silent washroom, thinking it would be nice to wake up to the sound of running water instead, knowing someone was in there, brushing their teeth or washing up.

but this was a start, right? the note, the obvious care in your actions. dazai, before he can think about it, places a light kiss on the paper. almost immediately after, he pockets the sheet, feeling oddly lightheaded. when he sees you again, he'll be sure to let you know he appreciated your feelings.

#ask 🐟#anon 🐟#bsd 🐟#dazai 🩹 🐟#yandere bsd #yandere x reader #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai x reader #yandere dazai

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candysharkart · 1 year

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hi would u be willing to talk more ab ur belcher hcs that theyre all schizoaffective? :]

i can defs try! i cant promise i have really anything "smart" or insightful to say, cuz my husband and i just kinda draw from our own experiences :o

(if u are reading this and dont know what schizoaffective disorder is, im writing this w/ the definition of "a combination of schizophrenic symptoms and mood disorder symptoms like major depressive and bipolar disorder")

bob has felt the most schiz to us from the start, he's got his voices, which feel way more like he's acting as a mouthpiece for the objects he's talking to, rather than him just doing a bit. he knows its not "real" but also. it is to him. (i think hes also had some? hallucinations? but most are drug or stress induced and he also has a lot of cartoon dream sequences so...?) he struggles with paranoia and anxiety, and he's had pretty manic and depressive episodes in the show. i think he tries his best to stay grounded and self-aware with his delusions. he's very skeptical, and gets really irritated by misinformation. (probs also an affect of his autism tbh)

we also have a hc that he's more irritable and negative in the early seasons bc he's on meds that arent a good fit for him. (we dont really have meds hcs other than that. they might not be able to afford them)

linda's symptoms arent as obvious beyond her delusions like the raccoons and the cemetery stuff, but i think she's taught herself to suppress her issues so she could better support gayle who had more disruptive ones. her parents seem like the "stop being mentally ill its annoying" types. she has her own instances of paranoia and anxiety, but she mostly tries to smother and ignore anything negative she feels. VERY manic and impulsive tho. i think she also has some hallucinations in show but im drawing blanks on specifics.....

i would personally say tina is pretty depressive, but she's good at trying to cope in (mostly) healthy ways. her family is a good support system for her! she does have the most instances of visual hallucinations that arent cartoon bits (she seems to have them a lot when shes feeling guilty...) her anxiety and paranoia reminds me a lot of bob but also of gayle. they have similar outburts

gene has the least examples that i can think of.... i think he considers ken to be pretend and is just joking about him being real bc it annoys bob (compared to tina who thinks her horse Jericho is maybe...a little real) but i think he has some other hallucinations tht arent like that. hes surprisingly anti-social! he definitely often views himself as superior to the kids he knows. gets that from his dad lol. and his mania and impulsiveness are very much like linda :) he doesnt have depressive episodes as much as the others, but they hit him really hard :(

and louise! shes paranoid and has lots of aggression issues! to me she is also very depressed. (the puppet ep is esp relatable to me lol........) and she's VERY manic in the ambergris ep! i think she also has a couple instances of voices similar to bob's? but its kinda hard to tell the difference when shes still a kid who plays pretend with her toys. her talking to the taffy dummy feels more like what bob does tho.

i hope? thats the kind of hcs you were talking about? ive been trying to think of the right words for like 3 hours now. im very bad with words and so much of this stuff can also be attributed to other brain stuff, and one person can have a lot going on in one brain! so i hope i dont upset anyone with this post. thank u for ur time :)

#also gotta remember that its a Silly Jokes Cartoon so i dont really....think most of this is intentional #bob's burgers #hope this isnt. illegible word salad also. sorry......

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elemit · 3 months

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A Gift, A Curse

A story in which we discover just how damned an ascended vampire can be, and just how far you will go to save the spawn you loved.

Read in full on AO3

dead dove/not beta read

fic warnings: Abuse, Angst, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood Drinking, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dubious Consent, Food Restriction, Hate Sex, Horror, Mental Coercion, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sexual Coercion, Torture, Total Power Exchange, Trauma, Vampire Bites

Chapter 22: Relief

You freeze. Though the voice is vaguely familiar, its source remains a mystery to you until the speaker steps forward out of the shadows that hide him.

“I asked you a question, monster.”

Your eyes go wide as the moonlight reveals his face to you. Marshall Bormul, the Flaming Fist that Astarion had made you… perform for.

He gives a cruel chuckle. “Those big doe eyes won’t work on me. They’re only further proof of your aberration. I should run you through with a stake right now,” he says, prowling towards you. You back away from him, fearing the manic glint in his eye, desperate to tell him that he’s got it wrong, that you’re not a monster, but the words cannot come.

“How’d you do it, hm? How’d you gain control over a good man like Lord Ancunín? A spell? Some ghoulish charm?” He tuts in disgust. “You might have charmed yourself pretty today, but you didn’t before, did you? I could see there was something wrong with you the moment I set eyes on you. And when you touched me with those cold, dead hands, I knew.”

Your back hits the bookshelf that lines the wall as your eyes grow watery with frustrated tears. It is so desperately unfair that in your tongue-bound state, you cannot even speak up in your own defence. In all your life you don’t think you’ve ever seen so intense a hatred as the one that twists over his face right now.

“Your poor husband doesn’t have a clue, does he? No matter. I’m sure the charm you have over him will break when I kill you. He’ll thank me for it, most likely.”

He licks his lips, eyes bright with anticipation. He knows he has you cornered.

“But if you’re going to die anyway, why not have a little fun with you first, ey? Your lord said you like it, after all.”

He lunges at you, and you let out a cry, surprising yourself. You cannot remember the last time you made a noise.

I cannot speak, but I can scream.

This unexpected boon gives you a brief flare of optimism. Your cry, however, is quickly cut off by Bormul’s heavy palm as he presses it against your mouth. You struggle, twisting your head until his grip is slightly loosened, and then you bite, hard, with teeth made for ripping flesh, and you taste the intoxicating hot metal rush of blood in your mouth. He lets out a stifled curse and pulls his hand from your mouth, then slams his other hand around your neck, cutting off your next budding scream before it can even reach your bloodied lips.

“Keep quiet, you undead brat,” he spits. Your bite only seems to have spurred him on, as his movements are redoubled in effort. He clumsily pulls off his belt with his still-bleeding hand. The smell of his freshly flowing blood is almost making your eyes roll back in your skull with thirst, even as your vision grows dark around the edges from his choking grip. He laughs as he shifts his trousers down, mistaking your hunger for lust.

“By the nine hells, you really are a salacious little whore, ey?”

You’ve never felt fear like the feeling that churns in your chest now, but your spluttering gasps are growing fainter as his hold on your throat remains. You wonder hysterically if he’ll have killed you before he can have his fun. You hope so. The ostentatious layering of the silk and lace of your skirts seems to be giving him some difficulty. The call of the darkness has never sounded so appealing. You could follow it happily to your own end. Until this moment you never fully understood the appeal of Shar, but now that she holds out her arms you find yourself craving that cold, eternal embrace. True death would be a kindness. You’d sought it out yourself so recently - how strange that your body still tries to fight it when it is delivered by a stranger’s hand. Hadn’t you once told Astarion - the old Astarion, the true Astarion - that if you had to die, you’d want it to be like this? Strangulation? You’d laughed about it back then, bonding over morbid jokes as if your lives weren’t really at risk, and you’d laughed more when he declared beheading would be his method of choice. A perfectly noble choice for your perfect noble love. Your faculties are fading now, but you still feel faintly pleased that your last thoughts will be of a happier time, rather than the horrors of the present. The blackness is complete now. Your mind empties. All but one sensation fades.

Relief.

#astarion smut #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x you #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #a gift a curse #astarion fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion

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lemony-snickers · 2 years

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Do you like cats? I have this little imagine: Kakashi who finds a little stray kitten and it's eventually raised with the ninkens, being the part of the pack. How do you think Kakashi would name the kitten? Imagine Bull being big and all soft, letting it sleep under his chin, and Pakkun being all grumpy!

And the moment the kitten discovers its little deadly claws! :D

hello. remember i said i received a bunch of very nice asks the other day? well, this was one of them and here is a silly little fic inspired by it. thank you to my anonymous friend(s) recruited by an "anonymous" friend to be kind to me. <3

Title: Cats & Dogs (AO3 Link Here) Summary: Kakashi brings home a stray and Pakkun is less than thrilled. Word Count: 905 Warnings: none, this be fluff. .

Pakkun is furious.

He's trying to sit still and play it cool, but the soft tap-tap-tap of his front claws against the linoleum is a dead giveaway that he's upset.

"Something on your mind, Pakkun?" Kakashi asks.

The pug huffs, the flaps of skin around his mouth fluttering out as he does so. Then he shakes his head, velvety ears flapping against the metal plate emblazoned with Konoha's leaf insignia on his forehead.

"Not a thing, Boss."

Pakkun is a terrible liar and they both know it, but Kakashi doesn't press, just smirks beneath his mask as he turns the page of his book. "If you say so."

Pakkun grunts, scrunching up his already scrunched face as he watches Kakashi continue reading.

Lying on the couch.

With that thing on his chest.

It's... purring or whatever, the vibration of it like a foghorn in Pakkun's ears; loud and obtrusive. Obnoxious.

Pakkun huffs again, turning himself in a circle until he finds a comfortable spot and plunks down, back purposefully to the couch and face pillowed on his crossed front paws.

If Kakashi is going to insist on keeping the stupid stray, then Pakkun is going to insist on being petulant about it. When he'd brought the thing home originally, all drenched from the rain and scrawny, looking equal parts pathetic and manic, Pakkun assumed it was just a passing fancy. Kakashi once again proving his endless amounts of empathy, despite insisting he had none.

But it had been almost two weeks, now, and the thing is still living in Kakashi's apartment. Every time he summons Pakkun or the rest of the pack, there it is... sunning itself in the window, licking its paws clean after a meal, chasing after some tinfoil ball like an idiot.

It had even taken to tucking itself under Bull's chin when the big dog napped and Bull seems to enjoy it.

In fact, the whole rest of the pack appears strangely okay with their new addition. Pakkun, however, remains steadfastly against the idea of adding a feline to their ranks.

Send the mangy creature to the abandoned Uchiha complex and be done with it. As far as Pakkun is concerned, any cat that can't survive on its own in the wild is hardly a cat, anyway.

What were those terrifyingly sharp claws for if not catching food? Instead, the ball of fur currently perching on Kakashi's chest—in Pakkun's spot, no less—receives cans of tuna and specially-made beef something-or-other that makes Pakkun salivate, but he isn't allowed to touch.

Since when were treats not shared equally?! Kakashi had always made sure every member of the pack received identical rewards for their hard work.

Okay, so maybe occasionally Pakkun might get a few extra head scratches or sleep at home with him, but that's because Pakkun had known Kakashi since he was only a pup—they were beholden to a summoning contract Kakashi had signed as a genin, they were bound together... for life.

The cat can't even be summoned! It can't talk, it can't track. All it can do is chase tinfoil balls and scratch up the furniture and hiss at Pakkun when he comes too close to its food dish.

Pakkun's ears perk up when he hears the thing's paws hit the floor. It must be slinking away to its delicious-smelling food dish, he assumes, exhaling loudly through his nose.

"Pakkun."

His instinct is to stand and turn toward Kakashi immediately, but Pakkun resists. Though, he can't stop the instinctive wagging of his short, curled tail when he hears his name uttered so affectionately in Kakashi's familiar voice, no matter how hard he tries.

"Yeah, Boss."

He hears the book close, a soft sigh.

"Can you come here, please?"

Pakkun wishes he could roll his eyes, but that is a trait reserved only for his human companion. Instead, he makes a grand show of getting up, stretching and yawning as if it is a supreme inconvenience to be asked to move from his spot on the floor even though he wants nothing more than to relocate to the couch with his summoner.

When he finally turns, Kakashi is looking at him with a knowing smirk on his face and Pakkun gives up the act, dropping his head in shame the moment their eyes meet.

"Sorry, Boss," he grumbles, padding his way over to the couch. A quick peek to his left proves he was right, the cat's nibbling at something in its bowl.

Kakashi just chuckles. "It's okay," he says, as he helps Pakkun up onto the couch so the pug can settle—finally—against his chest.

His shirt smells like the stupid cat and Pakkun wrinkles his nose.

Kakashi pets his ears soothingly. "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you," he says, "I just want to make sure Inu feels at home here before I have to leave for my next mission."

Pakkun's ears perk up. "You named the cat... Inu?" he asks.

Kakashi smiles, baring his teeth in a mischievous expression Pakkun has known for more than two decades.

"I did," he says, sliding a treat out of his pocket and handing it to Pakkun, who chews greedily while Kakashi continues to pet him.

Pakkun's tail wags furiously in response.

If Kakashi has decided to call the cat "dog," then maybe there is some hope for the pack's new addition after all.

#lemony scribbles #kakashi hatake #pakkun #kakashi fanfiction #dog dad supremacy #pakkun is a very good boy #pakkun is a dad who is also a dog #cats rule dogs drool (and also rule)

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kaylacautio · 22 days

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Smiling Critters Headcanon List

I'm having a weird hyperfixation with the Smiling Critters lately and I do want to make a comprehensible story out of my headcanons, but for more instant gratification, I'm just gonna make a list. So here goes! These will primarily pertain to the cartoon versions because that's where my head's at.

We shall start with one for each of the critters because they all deserve love.

Dogday's tail wags when happy, like the good boy he is.

Catnap purrs when happy. Also his tail is prehensile, which doesn't follow along with his species but it wouldn't fit anywhere else.

Bubba's trunk is prehensile. Helps when his hands are full.

Bobby scratches her back on trees when no one is watching. Works better than her own hands most of the time.

Hoppy likes hard chews/hard candies. A lot. Her teeth grow uncomfortable if she goes without one for a while.

Picky enjoys a good mud bath. This could be either the spa variant or the "It just finished raining" variant. Out of respect for her friends, she will take a normal bath afterward.

Kickin lives up to the stereotype of chickens being associated with cowardice. He's working on it but he's still the most susceptible to Catnap's sneaking around. However, if anything were to threaten his friends, he would kill for them.

Crafty probably has the most powerful legs out of the group. Followed closely by Hoppy who doesn't skip leg day. You do not want to be too close to Crafty if she's startled or, heaven forbid, angry.

So you know how friend groups may have some people more drawn to each other than others? If I had to make pairings for who in the group was closest to whom, it would go something like this.

Dogday and Catnap

Hoppy and Kickin

Picky and Crafty

Bobby and Bubba

And now we have a few that would be used in the fanfic if I have any motivation to write it after this. They're mostly Catnap-centric since he'd be the main character.

Each of the Smiling Critters has a scent that just sorta naturally happens (to correspond with the scents their toy versions dispense), but Catnap happens to have two. His natural scent is lavender, while his Red Smoke smells like poppies. This comes from the fact that Playtime Co. apparently put some weird ingredients in their Red Smoke that I think gave it a poppy smell? When the Catnap toy was supposed to smell like lavender. So he gets both in the cartoon world!

Catnap is in full control of his smoke, for the most part. It'll come out in small harmless puffs if he's sleeping, or if he does something like a sigh.

Catnap, ironically, is an insomniac. He has frequent nightmares that prevent him from sleeping and is immune to his own gas. (He'd probably be narcoleptic if he wasn't.) He tends to space out a lot during the day because of this.

Dogday is also an insomniac and suffers anxiety as the group's leader. He is the most dependent on Catnap's gas to help him sleep.

The gas is somewhat addictive. I'm not sure in this case that it would drive its consumers to manic episodes like that sleepover cartoon, especially considering it's meant to aid sleep, but regardless Catnap has learned to be careful with it. He's tried other methods of helping Dogday and the others sleep but usually ends up feeding the addiction.

He'll also use the gas for self-defense if left with no other options since a heavy enough dose can knock people right out.

Romance plays very little role in the Smiling Critters' world but Dogday and Catnap might have feelings for each other. (Yes I ship it, but only in the cartoon world.)

Catnap is by far the quietest of the group. Upon first meeting him one might think that he's mute. But rather, he can't (or at least doesn't) speak above a whisper. To talk with his friends in a group setting, he whispers to Dogday and lets his bestie relay his thoughts for him.

On that same note, Catnap's quietness often leads to him scaring his friends by just standing there when they don't expect it. Sometimes he does it on purpose.

And then we have the most important headcanon, the one that basically would set this whole story in motion:

Catnap still worships the Prototype

But with a few key differences because this is the cartoon world we're talking about.

He's not so much of a Prototype-Bible-Thumper. In fact, he doesn't tell the other Critters at all out of fear. Fear of mockery or rejection, and fear of what his god could do to them.

The Prototype shrine is underneath his house, is smaller, and is constructed out of various toys and scraps he's found lying around. The human skeleton at the front is more than likely some kind of doll instead.

The electrocution incident that leads to the worship is caused by some faulty/exposed wiring. Perhaps his natural curiosity leading him into dangerous situations.

I can't say for certain that the Prototype is a benevolent god in-game, but he's certainly not here. He keeps Catnap under his thumb through fear more than anything else, he's the cause of Catnap's nightmares, which often portray gruesome deaths of himself and his friends, and he could drive Catnap to insanity at any given point. He could also give the poor kitty an existential crisis by revealing that he lives in a TV show or giving him visions of his "Bigger Bodies" self, but I haven't quite decided on that yet. Basically, Prototype's an asshole and Catnap stays due to both a life debt and fear of punishment.

And that, I think, about sums up the whole story premise I had without me having a proper structure for it. So yeah! The instant gratification monkey is happy.

#writing #poppy playtime #catnap #prototype #headcanon #headcanon list #potential fanfic #did this instead of writing #stupid little brainrot #hyperfixation #where did this come from #long post #long ass post #poppy playtime chapter 3

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jellymellydraws · 3 months

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Masterlist ~ <<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter >>

Astarion x Dark Urge Chapter 13 Rating: E Tags: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, slow burn, two guarded people fall in love so hard it makes them stupid

Chapter Summary:

Rose, Shadowheart, Wyll, and Alfira explore the Blighted Village. Alfira proves her mettle in a dangerous fight for their lives. Rose confronts Wyll about the disagreement they had back at the grove and if their moral differences are going to be an issue. Shadowheart shares a bit more details about her Shar worship to Rose, while Alfira tries to figure out what blighted this village in the first place.

Rubble and rotted food were plentiful throughout the village. But this served little use to the party.

Also in abundance, however, were the loose threads that depicted a once thriving community. Their words were stitched in the pages of journals hidden within bedside tables. Embroidered on schoolhouse attendance sheets were the names of children-- many of which were marked as ‘missing’. Bound by moth-eaten clothes, still folded in dressers. Together, they formed an incomplete tapestry of the people who once had a life here.

The question was ever present.

What happened?

No one seemed to care as much as Alfira, who saved as many scraps, books, and sentimental trinkets as she could carry. Shadowheart did little to conceal the disgust on her face whenever the Moon Goddess’s holy symbols were picked up and stowed in the bard’s bag.

“Why are you so interested in a people who are dead and gone?” The cleric asked after they cleared another home.

“They’re only gone if they’re forgotten…” Alfira answered earnestly, “It’s why my kin sings the song of Elturel, so our story won't be forgotten.”

“And you’re going to be telling theirs?”

“Why not?”

“Many a great lessons from history only exist because a bard shared them across Faerun,” Wyll added, “I think Alfira’s onto something.”

Alfira smiled as Wyll came to her aid. The cleric dropped the subject, bitterly.

Wyll pulled the bowstring back quietly. His eye focused on a silken bridge. Arrowhead ablaze.

She was the size of an owlbear, but with a poisonous bite. Delicate long legs plucked the silvery strands, placing them against the rocky platform she stood upon. A cluster of eggs behind her, wrapped in a knitted blanket of her making, rested peacefully.

The Matriarch.

“C’mon…just wander onto the webbing…” Wyll whispered, “please?”

“Maybe someone can lure her forward?” Alfira suggested, “it’s a spider— a huge oversized one but still— a spider!”

“I’m not so sure,” Shadowheart warned, “those notes weren’t the manic writings of a zealot. If Lolth is willing to give any power to her followers, we might be dealing with something much smarter than an oversized spider.”

“She’s right,” Rose nodded, “we have to be patient.”

It was fortunate they didn’t alert the whole colony when they ambushed the spider patrol. Continuing to be careful, they quietly explored the tunnels until they found the nest. They remained crouched behind a stone column, keeping their voices at a whisper.

Watching.

Waiting.

Praying.

All they needed was for her to take a few steps towards them. If they could get her to the ground below, the rest of their plans would fall into place. Higher ground meant upper hand. Upper hand meant surviving.

The matriarch turned towards the bridge.

Everyone froze.

This was it.

“Bullseye!” The flaming arrow shot across the air, briefly lighting the caverns in its warmth before diving through the webbing.

The flames spread from the melting weave and wrapped the giant spider queen in its embrace. The Matriarch burning body fell to the ground. The skittering of legs were heard coming from below. This was their chance!

“Move in!”

At Rose’s command, spells and alchemical bottles rained down on their enemies. The matriarch let out a piercing screech that reverberated against the walls. Tiny oversized spiderlings crowded together on the rocky platform their mother had once stood upon.

The eggs had hatched, and its inhabitants now surrounded the party.

This was bad.

The giant spiders appeared behind them.

Worse than bad.

The matriarch, in front of them.

Alfira shrieked.

“THEY CAN TELEPORT?!”

Shadowheart raised her shield against the Matriarch’s venomous maw. She spat venom over the party, but most of them could withstand it. Without injury, the venom didn’t do as much damage as it could have.

Alfira desperately strummed her lute, blasting their surroundings with any cantrip she could conjure. Her arachnid audience did not offer applause, only additional screeches and skitters as they closed around her.

“There’s too many of them!” Wyll shouted. His bow had been dropped in favor of magical blasts to push back the swarm. Spiderlings were easily knocked over the edge, but replaced with their giant counterparts.

He was right. Even as Rose stabbed her blade into the hatchlings, the Matriarch’s screech forcefully hatched more to take their place.

They needed to break up the group.

C’mon Rose. You got the boots, there’s still plenty of web.

Another screech. More spiderlings appeared around them.

They teleport— you can’t outrun them.

The matriarch spit more venom upon them.

Maybe I don’t need to…

“Shadowheart, switch with me!” Rose shouted, a plan beginning to piece together.

The cleric looked over her shoulder and nodded to the assassin. They rotated positions, dagger and mace swinging into the insect swarm along the way. The matriarch’s maw dripped with poison as she chomped at the standing piece of flesh that dared enter her sights.

Rose struck. Slashing the matriarch before immediately weaving beneath her legs. The details were hazy, but there was no time to iron out a perfect plan. Just to act one what little she knew.

C’mon…

The magical boots she donned earlier stepped onto the webbing without so much as a trip to her gait. She took a chance to look behind her.

And thank the Gods: the matriarch turned her focus to Rose.

“Fend off the rest!” She shouted over her shoulder, sprinting across a bridge.

The matriarch teleported right behind her, barely giving her a moment to avoid the spray of venom. The acrid smell made her eyes water, nearly blinding her. Nearly. The strands of web illuminated beneath the light of magic, just enough for her to see her trail. With one bridge burnt away, she was prepared to endure a few injuries for the sake of turning and running back the path she came from.

In an amusing sort of way, she would liken this to a dance. She would run from her partner, then wait for them to approach. Daggers would strike her flesh, poison would spit from her maw. A twist, a twirl, and a turn. One step after the other, a repetitive sequence matching that of well rehearsed dancers on stage. Ah, but what a stage they danced upon where death could call upon them at a moment’s notice. One wrong step, one trip, one itsy bitsy mistake, and they’d swan dive into the pit below.

“Impero te!” Alfira strummed the chords of her magic, successfully lulling a cluster of spiderlings into a peaceful slumber. The bard had been free to take cover and jump into view to cast spells from a safe distance. Wyll and Shadowheart maneuvered to lower ground, pulling apart the swarm and thinning their forces.

“Hatchlings are cleared!” Wyll shouted, pulling his blade from the oozing abdomen of a spiderling. “How’s the Matriarch!?”

“Still alive!” Rose shouted, gritting her teeth as venom spittle dripped into a few of her open wounds, “Shadowheart, can I get some healing?!”

“A little busy!” The cleric shoved her shield against a giant spider, pushing it close to the pit’s edge.

“I’ve got it!” Alfira strummed another chord. Ephemeral notes leapt from the lute, and pressed into some of Rose’s wounds. A cooling sensation washed over them as the healing magic sealed them.

“Are we clear to regroup?!” Rose called, running towards the main platform she had initially lured the matriarch away from.

“Bring her over!” Wyll replied as he hoisted himself over the ledge.

Perfect. She couldn’t see anymore spiderlings harassing her team, nor were there any more giant spiders in sight. The main platform was just across this bridge, and the Matriarch lurched forward. The same lurch she always did when she was teleporting.

Just like they rehearsed.

Two dancers, in time.

Repeating their steps.

Until one decides they want to be the star of the show.

The matriarch appeared in front of Rose, sinking her teeth into the assassin’s shoulder when she couldn’t stop fast enough. Venom spilled straight from her maw and into the bloodstream of her newly acquired meal. The arm went numb. Her legs collapsed.

Voices called out, heavily muffled through her haze.

The ground disappeared beneath her. Her descent resembled sinking towards the bottom of a lake.

More voices. Her vision started to black.

There was a harsh tug before she felt solid ground beneath her. A bitter cool taste poured into her mouth.

The voices got louder. Surrounded her. Became clearer.

“Is she okay?!” the bard, panicking, “I saw a lot of blood, is she--”

“Stop shouting!” the cleric hissed, “Give the antidote a moment to work.” Cool magic touched her numbed shoulder. “She’s going to be fine.”

Their faces began to come into view. Alfira, clutching her lute as she watched Shadowheart work. Wyll, kneeling besides Rose to keep her from leaning over. The hollow call of the pit nearby told her how close she was from her own demise.

“By the Gods, Rose,” Wyll began when her head tilted towards his direction, “you really gave that spider the run-around.”

Rose tried to laugh, but her throat felt too dry. All she could manage was a painful cough, “Was that a joke?” Wyll grinned at her, unashamed. She put a hand on his shoulder and weakly smirked at him, “that was awful. Is everyone else okay?”

“You’re the one who nearly had her arm ripped off and fell in a pit,” Shadowheart cut her off quickly, “I think the rest of us are fine.”

That last point was made evident by the fact that the others looked exhausted, bruised, yet not as bloodied as Rose was at this moment. Shadowheart insisted that she stay and rest. The cleric and Alfira checked the rest of the caverns for missed treasure. They had seen a few bags by corpses earlier, but did not get to investigate before their presence had been discovered by the patrols. Wyll remained seated next to her, regaling her of how they fought the spiders while the Matriarch was distracted.

“Once Alfira put them to sleep, it was easy. Shadowheart managed to lure the two giant spiders towards the pit,” he went on, “we were ready to take on the Matriarch together when she blocked you.”

“Talk me through that— everything got hazy as soon as I crashed into her,” Rose admitted, wincing as she tried to roll her arm. Nope. not ready for a wide range of movement just yet.

“Alfira’s quick thinking, believe it or not.” He smiled proudly, “She had a scroll of Feather Fall, and told me to destroy the webbing. She’s gotten really good at thinking on her feet.”

“Not without some of your training,” she nudged him, despite the pain.

“Ah, well she had it in her. Just needed some direction.”

Speaking of direction…

“I’ve been meaning to talk about what happened at the grove,” Rose transitioned quietly, “the night we killed Kagha.”

She saw from the corner of her eye how Wyll turned his head away, “and here I thought we were going to quietly move on from that.”

He scooted away from the wall and sat in front of her. She could see now how he didn’t look the least bit worried about the topic. Well, that made one of them.

“Alright. Ask away.”

“I gave you a direct order and you deliberately went against it.”

“I did.”

His confidence didn’t sit right with her. Not now. She foolishly thought she would have to worry about him becoming defensive, but she hadn’t accounted for him being so blatant with his disobedience. Of all the ones to give her trouble, was it Wyll she should’ve been worried about? She took a deep breath when the silence weighed on her.

“Why?”

“I won’t turn my blade on the innocent and defenseless,” he answered, without hesitation. “I won’t apologize for doing what I felt was right.”

“They weren’t innocent,” she insisted.

“According to what measure? Because they followed Kagha?”

“Yes! They were part of the problem!”

Wyll shook his head. Rose adjusted herself to sit further upright. He reached for her when she winced, still willing to offer aid while she attempted to chastise him. Quite the hero, indeed.

“Would you have said the tieflings, those fighting in the blood war, were a problem?”

The question gave her pause. She furrowed her brow, searching her (frustratingly selective) fractured memory for anything about the events of Elturel. She knew what she heard in the grove-- that the city was gifted to the hells in a bargain made a generation ago. She recalled several speaking about their time fighting, though she didn’t exactly pry into what.

“When Elturel fell,” Wyll explained, “those who couldn’t leave the city in time were forced to fight in a war within the hells. By your standards, anyone who’d wish to see Zariel dead should also slaughter those tieflings.”

Rose bit back her retort. She’d insist it was different, but the question still stood before her.

‘Was it really?’

“Some people follow their commanders for the sake of their survival, even if they disagree with their ideology. Who are we to decide that they were monsters by association?” Wyll’s eye seemed hopeful as he peered into her’s, seeing her ruminate on his words.

“Your point has been made,” she admitted, “but I was trying to take precautionary measures. It was a great risk to let them live-- they could’ve targeted those tieflings in the morning. I was hoping to prevent unnecessary bloodshed.”

“And yet, there was no bloodshed anyways.”

“Thanks to Rath’s leadership.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but they were still given the chance to choose. They could have taken arms against the tieflings-- I still wouldn’t regret my decision.”

“How can you be certain of that?”

“Because my blade is guided by my heart,” he concluded with a hand to his chest. She couldn’t help but scoff at the gesture. Wyll moved closer to her, “It’s easy to kill, but it takes true strength to be merciful.”

Rose chewed the inside of her lip. There were too many ways she could tell him he was wrong. Too many problems with such a lofty notion. Mercy? He wouldn’t offer that to monsters. Would he offer it to the goblins if given the chance? She doubted it.

Frustrating as his heart of gold may be, his honesty and firmly planted principles told her exactly the kind of traveling companion he would be. Reliable. Kind.

Willing to see the goodness in people, even if others couldn’t. What would that mean for someone who couldn’t see goodness in themselves?

He extended a hand to her.

“How about this: we agree not to shed more blood than we need. Deal?”

Minimizing bloodshed was a proper goal to have. But she couldn’t risk their lives for the sake of a moral compass. Then again, Wyll didn’t hesitate for the camp. At the end of the day, he’s proven to be an ally.

She lifted her uninjured hand.

“Deal.”

Alfira and Shadowheart returned with the tiefling’s nose thoroughly buried into a journal. Her brow was furrowed in concentration. If the cleric didn’t have a firm hand on her arm to guide her, she would have easily tripped into the pit on the way back.

“Hey, has anyone heard of a Dark Just..Justee…Justice—“

“Dark Justiciar? ” Shadowheart finished, more intrigue in her voice than the sarcasm she had the whole morning.

“Yes!”

“They’re— why?”

Rose had her eyes closed, resting as she was instructed to when she heard the women’s back and forth. She opened a single eye to glance over at them.

“It’s one of the last thing this journal mentions— they killed the writer’s master.” Alfira turned back a few pages, “there’s no mention of them anywhere else in here.”

“Hm…” The cleric sat beside Rose when they were close enough and the bard no longer needed guidance.

She knew something. The interest in her voice gave her away, but Alfira may have missed that. When Shadowheart saw Rose staring at her, she pursed her lips.

“It also mentions a key gem…” the bard muttered, “have we seen any gems down here?”

“How do you know it’s around here?” Rose reached her hand out. The pain in her arm was a dull throb, but workable.

“‘The keygem’s secure in the tunnels,’” she recited before turning the book over to their leader, “they were going to come back for it, and considering this was in a backpack next to a pile of bones…”

“Then the writer was probably looking for it when they died,” Rose looked at the last lines of the journal. “Wyll was going around to collect arrows and reagents for me, go see if he found anything else.”

Alfira nodded and walked around the pit, immediately finding the warlock as he was harvesting from a giant spider.

Shadowheart breathed in relief.

“You know something,” Rose smirked, “and you don’t want to tell Alfira because…?”

“I’m not sure if she’ll be as understanding as you have been about Sharrans,” she admitted, bitterness coating her tongue. “Dark Justiciars are what every Sharran strives to be. To serve our lady as part of an elite group. Working in the shadows, doing our lady’s bidding.”

“Hm…that sounds a bit familiar. Covert operations, dedicated to a creed. Working quietly and out of sight, but still deadly.”

“And the tests to become one are not generally accepted by anyone outside of Sharrans. I’ll leave it at that.”

Rose hummed thoughtfully, satisfied enough with the answers she got. She quietly turned the pages of the journal, reading through the entries as she waited for Wyll and Alfira to return. A couple of passages caught her attention.

Let it be known that I left my homeland because I was bound to my master, and not because I chose to. … Were it not for the oath I swore, I would be home serving the zulkirs, and not tending to hog pox in this crude hamlet. … I’ll return the Tome of Necromancy he stole. … I’ll slip into the cellar, take what I can carry, and then go home.

The story began to fall together before her. If these were the tunnels, then the writer of this journal seemed to be a resident of this village (or, technically a hamlet from what was written here). If this was a resident, then the cellar they wrote about is in one of the buildings. Did they miss it? Was it under rubble?

She remembered what Gale had told her: where there is one magical item, there will be more.

A tome of necromancy sounded like a suitable item for the wizard to consume. She wondered, if it was as powerful as this journal made it seem, maybe it would satiate his condition for a while. A tome that powerful could be useful but no one seemed interested in the art of necromancy.

She’ll confirm her suspicions when they discuss distributing the magical wares. But even if the tome was useful to someone in camp, this ‘master’ should have other magical items.

Across the pit, Alfira’s gasp carried. Rose reached for her dagger, but relaxed when she saw it was just the bard and Wyll crouching around…something?

A purple glow radiated from their hands, as they pulled out an orb. The two reunited with the group, carefully cleaning the dirt off the shining gemstone. It was the size of her hand, with darkness swirling within it.

“I think this is it!” Alfira exclaimed.

They saved the apothecary for last, anticipating that it would hold a good amount of supplies for their needs. They used their authority as “True Souls” to order the goblins to leave the place alone. She continued to be amused at how easily they listened, all thanks to the pesky parasite in her head.

The scent of herbs and old wood greeted them. Miraculous that this was one of the structures standing. She didn’t know who to thank for that, but appreciated the blessing all the same. Rose grabbed the dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, carefully stowing them in her pouch. Bulbs of garlic were neatly laying on the counter. Her hand hovered over them for a moment.

“Hey Wyll,” she called, looking over her shoulder to him, “have you faced many vampires, or are fiends more your specialty?”

“Ah, I have,” Wyll approached, quickly noticing the likely suspect that prompted the question, “that’s not really going to help if vampires are involved. Not as strong as other methods, at least.”

“Okay, well we haven’t had an update on the vampire threat since we found that boar. In your professional opinion, should we be worried?”

“I would advise maintaining a healthy sense of caution. Thankfully, our camp is by running water. That’s doing more to protect us than garlic would.”

Rose nodded, but tucked the garlic into her pouch anyways. If not for vampire wards, it could be used for other recipes.

“In your professional opinion, Wyll,” Shadowheart began, light tease entangled in her tone, “are vampires picky about their meals? Think they’d help us out by feasting on the goblins?”

He shrugged, “Picky…well, if you consider a strict diet of blood to be picky— but otherwise, I couldn’t say. But you know, I have noticed something a bit concerning the last few days. There’s been a lack of wildlife around these parts. Other than a few birds and an occasional squirrel, the woods are a bit empty. Could be the vampire’s doing.”

“Or the goblins could have over hunted the area,” Shadowheart suggested.

“This is the same handwriting as the journal from the tunnels!” Alfira gasped excitedly.

Everyone turned to stare at her. The bard’s cheeks darkened.

“Sorry, I— this ledger has the same writing as the journal— I mean— we’re in the right place.”

Her voice got quieter and quieter as her cheeks flushed. Rose smirked.

“If the cellar door isn’t obvious, look for runes etched into the floors,” she redirected, “Gale said magic users would hide their valuables with magical means. I think it’s safe to assume a cellar full of fancy tomes would count.”

They quickly went to work searching for a cellar door. Furniture was turned over in the other room. Shelves were pushed away from the walls to check for hidden runes. Wyll walked behind the counter when the bedroom had nothing to offer. A dusty rug was pulled aside, revealing the heavy metal ring of a cellar door handle.

“I found it!” He cheered, summoning the rest of the group over.

Shadowheart gave the door a firm yank.

Then another.

It wouldn’t budge.

The cleric crouched down to investigate. The dirt around the handle was wiped away, revealing a series of runes etched into it.

“It’s sealed with magic…” she deduced, “we might need Gale’s expertise for this.”

“Then we’ll have to come back. Let’s finish up here and return to camp.”

The next hour was spent searching the rest of the village for supplies and magical trinkets. They managed to find an enchanted helm, dagger, and several more scrolls. A very fruitful morning.

Next Chapter >>

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #dark urge #astarion #astarion x dark urge #baldurs gate 3 #durge

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ratralsis · 10 months

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That's all there is of that story

And that was the end of that.

A couple of years ago, as part of my short story writing classes, before I started working on my novel in earnest, I actually did write a pair of extremely short (I think 400 or 500 words?) stories that were a sort of prequel and sequel. I might post those later, just to prove that there's no sense in writing any longer prequel or sequel story. The story's told. Kevin and Marigold met, spent a year together, fell in love, and probably got married way too young.

It was an exercise. A way to keep writing between drafts of the novel without working on the novel itself. I enjoyed writing it, for all its flaws.

Here's something I said to a friend of mine who read the previous version of this story and really didn't like it:

-----

The story is still what it was three years ago. Kevin barely has a character arc: he starts off with a lot of the autistic awkwardness that I have, and he ends with it, too. I don't know if he's actually autistic or even all that awkward. It could be that he comes off as insensitive or mean. The intent was to show that he doesn't know how to react when Marigold becomes emotional or distraught about discussing her past, so he just kind of freezes up and starts thinking hard about what the "right" thing is for him to do. That's me. That's what I do. His growth is that he learns to trust Marigold more and accept her for who she is, and make more compromises in his life to suit her needs. But I don't know if that's really much of an arc.

Marigold's arc is meant to be about how she starts off as a stereotypical beautiful manic pixie dream girl, and Kevin gradually comes to realize that it's a facade and a defense mechanism and that she's very emotionally fragile when she has to lower those defenses and be herself and let others get close to her.

There are parts I'm proud of and parts I'm not. But I still don't think it's good. I'm at that point in my creative development where I can read something like Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn and see a sentence like "With a flap of her hand she summed herself up: barren face, desert eyes, and yellowing heart" and think, god DAMN but that is some incredible description, but there's a world of difference between being able to appreciate someone else's art and being able to make my own at that same level.

So I write a lot about facial expressions. People smile at each other a lot. They grin. They beam. They light up. They nod. They lean one way or another way. They bend down. Sit. Walk over. Move toward. At one point, Kevin pads his way up a flight of stairs. It's a limited vocabulary, because it's how I think. It's how my head works. Blame it on years of video games with limited verbs. "Walk" is a solid verb to describe a character moving from one area to another. But nobody "ambles" or "strolls" or "leisurely makes their way" anywhere. Maybe they should.

This story was an exercise. A bit of practice between rewrites of my novel, which I find myself hating more and more with each draft and each pair of eyes that reads it.

Hopefully, you find at least a little enjoyment in it. I'm glad I wrote it, and I had some things in it that I very badly wanted to say (that loving someone is a choice you have to make every day, that loving someone and trusting them are two very different things, that trusting someone is a painful thing, that family means more than who your biological parents were, that anything can be forgiven, and that violins look like ukuleles to the untrained eye), but I'm not so vain as to think "I meant well" and "I did well" are the same thing.

-----

That about sums it up, I think.

But, as I said before I started posting any of it, I'm happy to answer any questions if anybody has any. I can say that with such confidence because I don't expect anybody to ask me anything.

That's not reverse psychology where I'm daring you to ask me something. It's just good old-fashioned self-deprecation.

#ratralsis writing #ratralsis strings

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lunatic-fandom-space · 10 months

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Alright, I just finished season 2 and I once again have thoughts but before that, I need to make a small correction to my previous post

This season didnt jump headfirst into serialization, I mustve misremembered and honestly, when I thought a little more about it, I dont think it ever tried to be consistantly serialized for atleast the first three seasons (after which I stopped watching). Like, this series is very faithful to its status quo which is pretty bad considering its a SLOW-BURN ROMANCE. Also, while I dont think it ever actually claimed to be Coming of Age, it is allegedly inspired by magical girl anime which have had Coming of Age elements since the genre's conception, but you cant have those if your main characters are all perpetually 14 so that kinda sucks.

Its so faithful to its status quo that all of the episodes end up having practically the same structure and there arent enough episodes that break it up so watching them all back to back makes it pretty hard to really distinguish them. I think the main thing preventing the show from getting boring as you watch it are the fight scenes which are pretty fun and inventive and, in season 2, the introduction of a bunch of new lore and heroes

Speaking of the new stuff, watching this series was kinda interesting because I felt like it was off to a bit of a rocky start and I got kinda worried because a lot of people hail it as the best season of the show so far and I was initially enjoying it a lot less than season 2 but then it did turn out to be pretty good and I liked the way they introduced the new lore and heroes and even Luca and Kagami, whom I was absolutely prepared to dislike. I think its because its all just setup but then I know that they're going to really fumble the payoff so I kinda tricked myself into thinking it was always bad when this season is actually pretty good.

Out of all the new stuff I think the Kwami Power-Ups were the worst. Its so blatantly toyetic in a way that feels really nonsensical and then they use them 2 and a half times and thats it, I dont even remember them ever being used in season 3but that might just be my shit memory

Im just going to restate that I think Master Fu is unecessary and that, between the Kwamis as their guides and the grimoire existing, our superheroes dont need a Wise Old Sage Mentor. Like, just make it so that the Miracle Box was in the possession of Marinettes family but they didnt know about the miraculous and then Marinette finds out but she only has the Ladybug (and maybe the fox and the bee) and all the other ones have been scattered all around Paris or even the world and then come up with some way for Adrien to get his hands on the cat miraculous idc

Luca was fine, hes a bit too bland and Manic Pixie Dreamgirl-ish for my taste except iirc he doesnt even end up advancing Marinettes character in any way, which is pretty much the only purpose a MPDG can serve, so like, what the point, but in this one season hes a good setup to become an actual character later on. Its a shame he never does, but still. I actually loved Kagami which is suprising because I mainly remembered her being kindof boring with some mildly offensive japanese stereotyping and fetishizing sprinkled on top, but shes pretty fun and likable. I love how awkward yet genuinely confident she is and I like the way she and Marinette interacted in Frozer, however briefly. I really liked Frozer in general, it was honestly really cute watching the four of them go on this litzle double date, I totally get all the polyshippers now, especially the Adrigaminette shippers. That being said, Kagami and Adrien really arent working for me as a couple so Im not looking forward to that

Alya, Chloe and Nino were fine as heroes its just that they dont really get any development (other than Chloe) and pretty much all they do is make the plotpoint where Ladybug and Cat Noir cant reveal their identities to each other pointless and nonsensical which is bad because thats the only reason the love square exists and the love square is like, the one Big Thing that this show has going for it. Alyas Rena Rouge suit is literally just Lilas suit down to the body being much slimmer so that sucks. On top of that, she and Queen Bee are unfortunately cursed with having to wear patterned skin tight latex suits with basically no other details because theyre girls in Miraculous Ladybug. I do really enjoy Queen Bees transformation sequence, it has so much personality and while I dont really like Chloe's civillian I do like that it has the same color scheme as her hero design almost like shes broadcasting the fact that shes Queen Bee without a care, even with clothes. Chloes arc was also really interesting and I liked the direction they went with her, i just wish her character development was more consistent because there were episodes where she seemed genuinely reformed even if she hasnt lost that Mean Girl exterior and then there were episodes where she just went back to being genuinely awful again. I dont have a lot to say about Nino except that I hate the hood and I hate his colorscheme. Theres a part in Heroes Day where they show the streets of paris from above while theyre parading these floaties of all the superheroes around and you can see how good Ladybug, Rena Rouge and Queen Bee look together with all of them having these warm main colors and Carapace just sticks out like a sore thumb, just put my man in a lighter more-yellowey shade of green Im begging you

One of the main reasons I was worried about season 2, beyond me mixing up stuff from season 3 with stuff from this season, was the way they handled Cat Noir. In the first season he was being playful and a little flirty with Ladybug but he had a similar playful attituide towards most of the people he interacted with and I guess the writers noticed that it didnt really come across as an actual crush on that part of the love square, so they made it a lot more blatant and made him come on to her much more strongly. Its clear to me that we're meant to symphatize with him when Ladybug rejects him but it seems that no one told the writers that unrequited love is only sad when they never voice their feelings to the person that doesnt love them back, when they keep making romantic gestures towards them even after an explicit rejection, thats just entitled, pathetic and cringe. It couldve been worse but season 1 was a bit better about it

I did like the Adrienette side of the love square far more this season though! Since they actually allowed Marinette to talk to him properly, Adriens personality got to come out more again and it felt like less of a shallow celebrity crush on her part. Its a realy shame that, instead of just continuing to go in this direction with the Love Square, they added Kagami and Luca as these pointless diversions. I think they could have worked, but maybe in a series that focused more on interpersonal relationships in general as opposed to just romantic ones or in a series that decided to get more wacky with it. Like, instead of there being The Love Square and then Luca for Marinette and Kagami for Adrien as Love Square Diversions you couldve had Marinette slowly form this deeper connection with Adrien while she also realizes how genuinely sweet and attentive Cat Noir could be but then Luca comes in and hes so interesting and cute but then Kagami is forward and confident like a realf life Ladybug and she starts to really admire her but oh, she never really noticed how much Alya always supported her and helped her grow....... and then do the same thing for Adrien. Like, go big or go home, GET WACKY WITH IT OR DONT GET WITH IT AT ALL

Hawkmoth is still really hard to take seriously, no surprise there. The moments where he cared about his son and even Nathalie in Heroes Day that were supposed to humanize him were fine, just kinda frustrating knowing that theyre gonna make him even more comically evil in the next few seasons and that its going to be inconsistant

Thats pretty much it. Pretty good overall, but hard to truly enjoy when you know whats coming

Thanks for reading ^^

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug crit #miraculous ladybug salt

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ruinous-robes · 1 year

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Chapter 10: And So The Sky Fell

Aaand here we are! My last entry for Lortober, here at the very buzzer. I owe getting my motivation back to this event, so I'm eternally grateful. This prompt is for the alternative prompt of "offering."

I'm putting a big content warning here for depictions of panic attacks from the point of view character. If that's something that you have problems with, please be well aware.

Also, as so many have asked, this story is finally fully updated on ao3! And I don't do this often, but I do actually have a song that pairs with this chapter :>

I hope everyone enjoys! This officially wraps up arc 1, and I should be back briefly with the start of the next leg of this journey.

Achilles found him just as Patroclus had finished bandaging his leg with the remains of his ruined robes. Patroclus didn’t hear him — Achilles walked silently, every step carefully placed — but he would know him anywhere: in the dark, in a crowded room, even in death.

Achilles sat down beside him on the hard stone of the courtyard. They were all supposed to dance there, before the night had gone to hell. All of the lanterns were still lit, hanging from the greenery and columns. Patroclus could see him out of the corner of his eye. Achilles’ nose had stopped bleeding, but the claw marks were still angry and red. Patroclus thought it might scar. Achilles, too, was wearing his ruined, bloody chiton. He had washed his paws, at least, and he held something in a box between them.

Achilles cleared his throat, opening up the box. “I’m not much of a medic, but I think I can at least restitch your leg, if you’ll let me.”

There once was a wolf who loved the earth but chased the sun.

Patroclus offered his leg. He still didn’t say anything as Achilles removed his hastily done bandages.

Achilles hissed when he saw the damage. Patroclus had already seen it. He doubted that it would ever heal right, that he would ever walk without a pronounced limp again. It was a small price to pay, he supposed. After all, Aster wouldn’t, either.

Patroclus felt manic laughter bubbling up and shoved it back down. He didn’t feel very okay, not at all.

“Patroclus? Hey, you there?”

He was as fast as the moon and stars, and one day, he came very close to catching it.

Patroclus forced himself to nod, to look Achilles in his eyes. A part of himself calmed when there was that same kindness he had known from before. He found that he had needed to see it, to make sure that no matter what cruelty Achilles was capable of, he could come back to himself.

“I— I’m so sorry, for everything. For lying, for… for running away. For— for this.” He didn’t have to elaborate. “But something just came over me. I— I couldn’t even stop myself. He was hurting you.”

A long beat of silence passed. Patroclus barely felt the needle or the sting of himself being pieced back together. He trusted Achilles. He trusted him to put him together and to tear him apart. It didn’t much matter to Patroclus. He supposed there wasn’t much of a difference.

Below, all the creatures cheered him on, but the earth knew it was a doomed quest, and cried, for its words could not reach the wolf, high in the sky as he was.

When Achilles spoke again, his voice shook. “… you aren’t afraid of me, are you?”

That shook Patroclus a little more awake. “Never. I could never fear you, Achilles.”

Achilles searched his eyes, and seemed satisfied with what he saw there. “Good. That’s… that’s good.”

Again, that silence. Even the breeze had settled, like it was waiting for something. They had only the screaming of the night insects, far off in the distance. If Patroclus listened hard enough, he could hear wolves speaking inside the palace. He couldn’t care less.

“I— I know this is probably the absolute worst time to say this, Pat, but I don’t think I can live with myself if I don’t say something now—“

As the wolf sank his teeth into the sun’s surface, he caught fire and fell all the way back down, blazing like a star as he went and struck down in a bed of yarrow and black clay.

“— But I meant it. I am in love with you, and that scared me. It scared me so bad. I’ve never felt the way I feel about you—“

The earth covered his broken body with mountains and rivers, and never again loved anything that walked its surface.

“— and maybe this is too soon, or you’ll think I’m crazy for even saying this. Hell, I think maybe I am, saying this after I just… just cut off a guy’s paws, but…”

Patroclus prayed to the Creator who he knew didn’t care about him for Achilles to stop.

“But I would like to spend my life with you. If you’ll have me. For real, this time. M-maybe not right now, obviously! I know this is sudden and crazy and—“

“I can’t marry you, Achilles. Ever.”

Patroclus wasn’t looking at him anymore, but he could feel Achilles’ heart crack. It made him hate himself, more than a little bit.

“What?” He sounded so small.

“I’m supposed to kill you,” Patroclus said. His voice was hollow, tinny. He felt like he was underwater.

“Patroclus, what are you talking about? You saved my life.” Achilles sounded confused and more than a little distressed.

“That was that time, but— but the Spinner’s will isn’t always good. It isn’t always what I want. You remember what I told you, about my first vision? That’s my sacred mission. It always has been from the start. I’m supposed to make sure you die, and you die in the way the Spinner wants and I— I…”

Patroclus stared down at his wings, thought of all the threads he had pulled and changed and snipped in pursuit of this awful, horrible mission he had been set on. He knew that the Creators could be cruel. He knew that their wills expanded far past his own, but it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to do this to Patroclus. It wasn’t fair to let him have everything he ever wanted — to love and be loved — and to ask him to give it all up willingly, with a smile on his face.

His vision was blurry; he couldn’t breathe.

He felt himself break.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!” he sobbed.

Patroclus was dying, he thought. This was what it felt like to die. Maybe he was actually bleeding out on the floor on the stage, back inside, and was only imagining the freedom of the beautiful open skies and plains as a death mirage. Maybe Aster had actually ripped his throat out. It couldn’t hurt much worse than this. Somehow, he ended up flat on his back, with his wings spread-eagled. The stars wheeled above him, dim from the light of the lanterns. They looked like his threads who never showed him the future he wanted.

How could you do this to me? he screamed in his mind. There was no answer. There was never an answer. Above him, the stars twinkled. He felt mocked.

His head was being cushioned, and something tickled across his cheeks and his ears, sticking his fur up in all manner of wild directions. It took him a moment to realize Achilles was licking him methodically: gently across his cheek, the back of his ears, occasionally just above his eyebrow. It felt… nice— the rhythm, the way he could predict each motion and the feel of it. Slowly, his chest stopped heaving, and the stars stopped circling, sitting in place. His eyes were still watery, and he brushed at them with his still glittery green claw.

“There you are,” Achilles said. He flopped his head against Patroclus’ shoulder so that Patroclus had to crane his neck to look down at him. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Patroclus huffed a strangled laugh. His eyes hurt now. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me for having a panic attack. It’s not your fault.”

Patroclus didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. He just looked up at the unfeeling stars again, where his Creator watched him. They were probably disgusted with him.

It hit him suddenly that he didn’t think he much cared.

“I totally get it if you don’t wanna talk about what just happened, but… you realize you aren’t the only one who gets to decide, right?” Achilles said. “Even if I’m supposed to die, and you’re supposed to be some scary, evil warden of death, and there’s nothing anyone can do to change that, then I should still get a say. I’d much rather it be you taking me there than to live without you because you think you’re some irredeemable monster.”

That struck Patroclus like a bolt of lightning. He sat up, displacing Achilles’ head and instead turning fully to look at him. “You mean that?”

“Well, I mean… you said yourself that futures can change. I just think it would suck if you did all of this, and I still died anyway.”

The gears in Patroclus’ mind turned. The future could change. And… and maybe if the Fatespinner lost their acting hand, maybe then it would turn around.

Maybe Patroclus didn’t have to do this anymore at all.

“I think… I think I’m done,” he said. “Yeah. I think I’m through.”

“… with us? Because you really could’ve cut me off if you were just gonna still gonna say no—“

“No, no, Achilles. I’m done with Fate. I’m done with Weaving. If they want you to die, then they’ll have to find someone else to keep their blasted webs straight. I think I’m perfectly fine to live not knowing what the next day will bring.”

Patroclus, with a great deal of effort, heaved himself to his feet. His body hurt all over, like the night was catching up with him. The courtyard sat on top of a hill overlooking the oasis, where the trading ships came and went. The water rippled gently below, reflecting the light of the moons. The breeze of the sea wafted salt into his nose, ruffling his fur. He pulled on his pendant until the chain snapped.

He looked down at the paw sized stone, carved with its lion head.

You want sacrifice? he thought venomously. I’ll show you my damn sacrifice.

With all of his strength, he hurled the stone as far as it would go, and he turned away. He never saw if it made it to the sea. He didn’t care.

Patroclus turned back to Achilles, who was watching him closely, some unnameable emotion in his eyes. “You may very well still die, but I’ll be with you until the very end. I swear it on my life.”

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Achilles said softly. Now it looked like he might cry.

Patroclus stepped closer, wrapping a wing around Achilles’ shoulder and burying his nose in the salt-sweet smell of his fur. “No, but I wanted to.”

There had been a wire tightening around Patroclus’ neck from the moment he was born, silvery and deadly. He had grown accustomed to the snare over the years, how it made him bleed and crushed at his windpipe. It had almost felt like a friend.

He didn’t know how nice it felt to breathe freely.

“Let’s go inside,” Patroclus said. “I’m tired of the cold.”

#arc of the suneater #lortober #lore wolf #lorwolf #ave: achilles #ave: patroclus

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munsontm · 1 year

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aftercare: for our muses to participate in aftercare together — from steve 🥺

@harringtontm & @musecraft / NSFW

Planet Caravan went through a fourth replay in Eddie's head. That song was the best way to describe how he felt and where he went when his and Steve's bedroom scenes got heavy. And after pushing himself through a fourth orgasm for his and Steve's pleasure, he plunged into a headspace that, in his opinion, was the closest to feeling like he'd taken drugs. Sometimes, he flew through endless skies where stars shined like eyes and the earth was a purple blaze; other times, his head emptied. Eddie liked both states, but the space fantasy had gotten him good tonight. He wanted to spend his time of ecstatic bliss in that beautiful place.

Eddie hummed the song intermittently while a very naked Steve carried an equally naked him into the bathroom to clean up because he couldn't stand, let alone think a coherent thought. His limbs were like jello, and they ached, but the really good kind of ache reminded him of how good Steve fucked him until his brain went to another plane. Eddie briefly giggled at the rhyming of brain and plane, imagining his literal brain getting on some fantastical space jet to Venus. So cool.

The abstract joy suddenly disappeared when Steve set him down on the bathroom counter to run them a bath, taking the comforting heat of his body with him. Was he going to come back? On instinct, Eddie reached for him like he did when they drifted apart during sleep or when they were caught in the manic crowds at a club. It made him think about the nightmares where he reached for his love only to find a mutilated corpse. A whine slipped from him, making Steve turn back and rush across the short distance in their bathroom to him, pressing in between his bare thighs. The warmth that was wholly Steve returned to Eddie like sun rays, and he buried his face in the broad hairy chest with a content sigh. "Stay," he muttered quietly. "Don't leave me, baby. There's no air in space."

Steve chuckled. "We have to stay in the caravan, right?"

Eddie nodded, eyes daring to flicker closed until his boyfriend tugged his face up by the chin to check on him and ask his colour. He replied green after a long moment where his fingertips absentmindedly rubbed patterns through Steve's chest hair. Of course, being the world's best boyfriend, Steve wanted to make sure and asked him for the third time that evening if he'd liked the rope play, to which Eddie nodded but said his skin felt a bit raw, that maybe they needed softer rope. Steve agreed after inspecting his wrists and ankles, delivering little kisses to the burns with apologies. God, thank you for Steven Harrington.

After some further wind down in Steve's arm and praise for how well he did. Eddie was okay, not thrilled, to let his boyfriend begin running the bath and get him some snacks. Plain water didn't quite cut it for Eddie when coming out of his headspace, so Steve always brought him a fruity juice box instead with his crackers. He sat quietly, sipping on pineapple, orange, and lemon, idly swinging his leg about and watching Steve add the fancy bath oils to the bath water. The song had almost ended, reality pushing its way back in. But Eddie didn't mind so much, especially when Steve was bent over the tub. "I can see your chocolate starfish." That earned him an amused look. He grinned mischievously; clearly Eddie Munson had returned to earth.

"Eat your crackers, brat," Steve said, standing to brandish his dad pose like a real weapon and looking reminiscent of Michael Angelo's David, except with a much bigger cock. Fuck. He was perfect.

"Yes, sir!" With a mouthful of crackers, Eddie saluted his love, shimmying off the counter onto sturdier legs and to the bathtub, all with the same grin still in place. Although, he didn't miss a concerned Steve almost diving across the bathroom to catch him, afraid he might fall on the hard tile. Now, Eddie was just going to have to kiss him for that, like a million times.

#ship. whenever i’m alone with you; you make me feel like i am whole again ( harringtontm ) 💙#v. volume 6 / arc: san francisco feat. harringtontm.#harringtontm #nsft

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conscience-killer · 2 years

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*pops up in your asks like snoop in half baked* yo gimme 3, 4, 7, 8, 16, 17, 20 aaaand 25 for the asks, por favor 😎

THANKS FOR ALL THE HARD ONES BABE 🫣 Tho legit the snoop reference exonerates you. (Imma gif that someday.) Anyways it’s been a while and I am likely to ramble like a motherfucker.

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Okay so there’s been an idea for another (yes.) Cricks fic that has been rattling around my brain-pan since around like the fifth month of March 2020. I have a title and premise all thought up but literally one (1) scene. Anyways that scene is p much Cricket getting off to Dennis being passed out after too much (crack? heroin? whateverthefuck?) and basically Cricks jerking off in his face. BECAUSE for some reason the facial was always a staple with my Cricket fics. Shruggers. Anyways the whole fic that may or may not (probably not) happen was gonna be around 5-10 chapters (yes.) and there’s a running theme which I shan’t spoil in case the stars align and I decide to write it. Which I probably won’t.

But I might.

One day.

Does the world even need more Cricket fics? :)

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

This part from Shakin’ Off the Rust:

The mail doesn’t stop, and neither do the insects buzzing around his mind as Charlie explains this entire shitshow to Mac. Mac isn’t getting it, and he doesn’t see Barney, either. Goddammit, it had all sounded so plausible before. Maybe he does sound like a Charlie Brown teacher, after all. Was he named after Charlie fucking Brown? When he popped out, happy as a clam, did he make goofy mute trombone sounds instead of crying like a normal baby? Shit. He takes a drag of his cigarette and stills, the upbeat bassline of Day Bow Bow penetrating his thoughts for reasons known only to the brain hornets.

“You’ve lost your mind. You’ve lost your goddamn mind, Charlie.”

So it’s like, this fic was never supposed to happen. A few factors came into play here: 1) The podcast reigniting my love for the show and these talented assholes. 2) A rewatch of Sunny I’m having at work lately with the Sunday locum between the endless swathes of belligerent patients. We got to Pepe and a little bell chimed in my head and I was like... “I could work with this, but will I?” 3) The Writing Itch. Y’all know it. 4) Brain hornets.

ANYWAY it started writing pretty much autonomously which is my favourite way for these things to happen, and this was the paragraph that took it away from Charlie’s manic intro monologue and into the actual canon Pepe Silvia scene. It felt nice to tie it in. :)

7. What do you think are the characteristics of your personal writing style? Would others agree?

I mean copious profanity and blasphemy aside, I’d like to think that my attempts to give the narration a voice that rings true to the main character of the story work for the reader. It gives each story its own tone and different headspaces are so much fun to explore for me.

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Undoubtedly. My perpetual boner for hate sex will never subside. :) (That said Pepe was soft as holy fuck but hey I’ve been away for three years.) I haven’t read much at all throughout the pandemic but a few things have crossed my path, such as this incredible Saw fic right here, and this exquisite The Boys fic. Sometimes I seek shit out and hit the jackpot right away.

16. Tried anything new with your writing lately? (style, POV, genre, fandom?)

Literally just writing a fic lol. And I guess in a way it was kinda fluffy (for me), which hasn’t happened since Time to Pretend and even then that was prefaced with an extremely dubcon gangbang sooooooo yeah. Where was I going with this?

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

I actually have a pretty low sex drive. I have phases where I’m horny for days but mostly I’m just lagom, as mom would call it. That said, I mostly only read explicit fic so therefore I write it too. It’s just such a satisfying payoff. Especially when you write a shittonne of exposition just to facilitate some porn. *Looking at you, Birby.* Also, I haven’t the vaguest clue about the mechanics and conventions of writing. I just put shit together and hope it works.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Oh oh OH! I’m gonna link the lame reference doc of lame. It is perpetually expanding because there’s nothing I enjoy more than referencing shit in fics. NOTHING. As for callbacks, the entire Cricket Chronicles was loosely woven together by a thread of facials and reciprocated fellatio. Like secret santa with dicks. (I’ve used those descriptions before but fuck it it’s been forever.)

/edit ALSO! Shakin’ Off the Rust itself is a meta title because 1) I’ve just discovered The Blue Stones (click me I’m awesome), and 2) because I was literally shaking off the rust of not writing for three years and 3) because Mac and Charlie were shaking off their own rust at not manhandling each others’ genitalia for however long it’s been. META.

25. What part of writing is the most fun?

I like working inside heads that aren’t quite functioning on the right level. It’s why Pepe wrote so easily and why I have such a fun time with characters like Charlie, Cricket and Cassidy. It’s cathartic to me for so many reasons. Also, any occasion where I can stick a real-life drug anecdote in makes me very happy. And who doesn’t enjoy serotonin?

#rissalf #ask #ao3 #shakin off the rust #time to pretend #the bird and the worm #THANKS BABE THIS WAS CATHARTIC AND THIS BITCH IS ALL ABOUT CATHARSIS LATELY #also huzzah for shameless plugs

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fairlyqualityanon · 3 months

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Oh dear. I’m not on Tumblr much and don’t really know what’s going on, but from what I’m gleaning, they’re really shitty people. Unfortunately I can’t offer much help on that cause I found it easier to just isolate. I don’t bother trying to talk to anyone nowadays, but I do suggest picking up a hobby. Keeps the brain from fucking with you too much. One physical and one stationary, if that makes sense? For if you’re unable to do the more physical thing (like for me, I can’t do my physical hobby cause my ankle hurts [stairmaster], but I can do my stationary hobby [journaling]).

I’m sorry I can’t offer much. Please don’t hate yourself. Hm, can you block who/what you see on here? If you can, you should be able to block their content. Also I don’t think it’s a manic episode. I could be wrong (probably am), but mania is a heightened desire to do more impulsive stuff, not sleep all the time. If you’re having a hard time sleeping, you might want to look at Valerian root supplements. They smell like feet but help me get to deep sleep in no time.

IDK if any of this made sense or was helpful, so if it didn’t I’m sorry.

train of thought I can’t be bothered to format because nobody cares lol

Oh wow, someone exists that thinks it matters which side of the grass I’m on, let alone believes it should be *this* side? I don’t mean to sound dismissive, but I’m maybe at most 25% joking, and probably much less than that. Every time I decide that maybe the person was telling the truth about “hey you have inherent value” it turns out they just wanted me around to see what they could get out of me / wanted to see how long it took me to figure out they hated me because it gets funnier the longer it goes on.

Why shouldn’t I hate myself? If my only reason for existence is so others can use me, then why shouldn’t I see myself as sub-human trash? I think it’d be easier if they openly hated me, instead of A, not giving a shit or B, thinking I’m stupid enough to believe their “I’m your friend :)” bullshit (which apparently I was). No, blocking a person won’t block people reblogging their stuff, nor those who gush over them with praise. I don’t think you understand how my brain works. I always have multiple levels/trains of thought running. Even if I’m “fully focused” there’s still at least one whirring away in the back of my skull *uncontrolled* - I’ve tried Xanax and marijuana (though not together) and it still keeps on doing its own little thing.Even if I manage to boot up a video game, start a movie, pick up a book, open a document… it’s there, reminding me I’m a disgusting stain on existence and killing myself is only the start of apologizing for ever having been born.And yes, it WAS (still is tbh) a manic episode. I said *want* to sleep, not *can* sleep. Can’t think about killing myself if I’m unconscious. If I can make it to April (that’s a big “if”, couple weeks ago was side-eying my medicine cabinet) I might be glad I didn’t go through with it. Therapist didn’t approve of my “drug abuse” (that’s what he calls my using Xanax and DayQuil, still haven’t told him about the edibles lmao) but he definitely didn’t tell me to stop.

can’t figure out how to make this not sound petty but hey, about the only thing keeping me alive is there’s a couple graves I plan to literally dance on so if ‘petty’ keeps me going then I’m fine with it

#trouble in Voreadise #shut up emma nobody cares #tw marijuana #tw suicide #tw depression #think I legit started crying when I got the email notification for this #but then the reality check cleared and started having doubts

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petalsonfacesnovinesthough · 7 months

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Sonic Quilford AU Custom "Arcs"

As I slowly descend into madness from making all this from just wanting to rewrite Sonic Forces, I've added some extra bells and changed some of the whistles. And since I think these deserve more than just a simple mention, they're gonna get quick summaries here.

(In between Scrapnik arc and Frontiers) Dark Arm Ops: Two months after some freak meteor shower, Vanilla starts getting suspicious of the blue hedgehog's behavior and lack of any egg-esque scientists. Upon hearing her little girl and Ms. Rose seemingly get beat up, she turns to The Chaotix Detective Agency for help. What is going on with Team Sonic? Who's that strange hedgehog they run into in Soleanna, why did he only show up after Charmy found a Chaos Emerald, and why does he look like Shadow? And where is Robotnik in all this?

Inspired by SONIC.EXE, this story has Vanilla taking the main role, plenty of silly(and not-so-silly) detectives, time loops set up through an alternate take based off this headcanon by @autisticshadowthehedgehog (which are to be explained at a future date), and the return of Mephiles from Non Existence.

(After Sonic's 18th Birthday, but before TMoStH) Lune Kingdom: While still enjoying the downtime as Amy, Knuckles, and Tails have their solo expeditions, Sonic gets a message from Team Amber that he might want to come join them exploring a little island kingdom not far from Christmas Island. Upon getting there, it turns out the royal family could be in need of some assistance, as the Queen went slightly mad, Crown Princess Sonia feels drowned in work, the leader of the local street kids seemed to know something about them, and they want him to talk to some star nosed mole they call the Oracle? And here he thought Blaze had it hard being royalty...

I knew I'd integrate elements of Sonic Underground, and that includes Sonic's family members there. Aleena, Sonia, and Manic all have their part to play, along with the Oracle of Delphius(who gets a real species this time, even if it's with some water trauma for Mr. Needlemouse(Fun fact! Star nosed moles are semi-aquatic!)). Giving the role of Sonic's companions to Mighty, Ray, and Honey just felt right. The latter two have known him the longest, after all.

(Time Jump Fair After TMoStH) Angel Island Fight: Figuring the hedgehog and kitsunefox will be easier to kill off than Dr. Robotnik, Starline decides to try and overrule a choice made by the Chaos Emeralds themselves and supplant the 18yo speedster by getting Surge his role as their guardian. How will Sonic and Tails feel upon learning the platypus has found these two? Will Surge and Kitsunami stick with Starline, or throw him off the floating paradise? On a scale of 1 - 10, just how ticked is the 18yo echidna who lives on this soon-to-be battleground?

I feel like Starline didn't get to do much before his passing(which I'll get to). I mean, he vaguely worked with Robotnik during Metal Virus, tried to kidnap Tails that one time, did kidnap Belle, then broke Surge and Kit and then, BOOM, he's dead. So, he gets to do more! And, we get to see Sonic and Tails know their foes up close and personal, with someone getting angry from what's said as he walks back from Hidden Palace with Knuckles to go support his little brother.

(Time Jump Far After Angel Island Fight) Rush Reef: All of Team Sonic find themselves in hot water when they all end up sent to Blaze's dimension once more. After checking in with the Princess and tanukiraccoon pirate, it appears a trip down to Demon Island to find the Operator's Citrine is needed before Eggman and Egglock(Eggplant warlock, filling the role of Eggman Nega, who is fully Silver's nemesis). But can Sonic take the plunge this time? And considering Knuckles, who lives this far below?

I feel like there needs to be a full Team Blaze, along with a counterpart to Angel Island. Thus, Demon Island and its stressed, scared, oppressed last original inhabitant, Lotus the Sea Sheep(Sea sheeps are rare animals that photosynthesize like plants, as apposed to a mammal who lays eggs). Plus, a Sonic story that's mostly underwater is a rarity!

(Time Jump Fair after Rush Reef) Magic Show of Steel: Wanting a break, Sonic accepts an invite from Espio to join him in Casino Night for a week, because even with the violent reveal of the mayor as a badnik, business still booms. Especially for the city's favorite illusionist, Missy the White Rabbit. Yet, something in her performance rubs the hedgehog the wrong way. Can he, Amy, Shadow, Honey, and Espio figure out just what's happening before they all disappear? And just how close is a certain mercenary group?

Heavy Magician is my favorite Hard Boiled Heavy, and considering my plans for her in my Forces rewrite I'm still working on, I had to give her an arc all her own. Plus, we never get just the Speed characters interacting(and I want more interaction between Sonic and Team Chaotix in general). Plus, pretty lights and a possible Phantom Ruby fight between Magi and Infinite/Dante? Writing, become easier!

(Time Jump Far After Magic Show of Steel) Story Whirlwind: Upon noticing his primary fighter has chosen to fight him more than the blue blur and an impulsive stealing of two things Sonic really cares for, he starts getting paranoid. But, how much power can a book of fairy tales give? And how hard can it be to keep a cat that likes fishing and a government robot in captivity be? Let alone setting up Sonic's own friends to finish him off, and Kit's secret assignment...

Starline's death was too impassioned and having him get killed in a building caving-in was a cop-out. Fight me!

In reality, I really think just having Starline get crushed takes some of the joy out of seeing him stopped. It was just thrown into the Surge arc so they didn't have to bother with what we was doing anymore. Thus, a total change in scenario. And, an actual culprit. But, I think you'd need to ask the Emeralds. Make sure they aren't letting someone channel their darker sides though, or you'll meet Starline's shameless killer face-to-face. ;)

That's all for now. I have more, but I think they should get a part two to this, so I don't overload the post.

#sonicquilfordau #sonicaustuff #thesecustomarcshavesatinmyheadforawhile #especiallystorywhirlwind #pleaseaskmeaboutstorywhirlwind #oranyofthemforthatmatter #alsoifinallycameupwithaname #prettybasicthoughit'sjusthislastname

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