#If I could draw people sleeping I'd be so powerful

[bumblingbabooshka]

Sometimes when I start getting too down about life I picture Tuvok dozing in a patch of sunlight and I think you should all try the same with your favorite guy

[linnienin]

💄A S T E R O I D ⁕ S I R E N E ⁕(1009)💄 through the signs and degrees

Disclaimer: Take what resonates. I'm not a professional astrologer, i just am an avid researcher and i use my personal experience when writing my posts (Also, pls, don't copy my work, i spend lot of time on it, thanks)

Hello beautiful souls!

I'm back with another post on a very requested asteroid 💜

A lot of you asked me about Asteroid Sirene and how it manifests in a birth chart, and initially i answered singularly, but the requests started to get out of hand a bit for me, so i decided to create a whole post on this asteroid in different signs/aspecting different planets

I have planned other posts on this asteroid but for now I..

Hope you enjoy it!

W H A T ⁕ I S ⁕ A ⁕ S I R E N ?

⁕ In Greek mythology, sirens are humanlike beings with alluring voices

Initially descripted as half human half birds then as "sea-girls with the body of a maiden, but have scaly fishes' tails"

⁕ Etymology of the name meaning: "binder, entangler" i.e. one who binds or entangles through magic song.

This could be connected to the famous scene of Odysseus being bound to the mast of his ship, in order to resist the sirens' song.

M Y ⁕ I N T E R P R E T A T I O N :

I want to make clear that this is just my view and thoughts on this asteroid and if you know a trusted source on its meaning please link it down below, i'd be very grateful 🙏

To me Asteroid Sirene (1009) has a similar energy to Lilith but it isn't as raw and destructive, it's indeed more controlled and patient. Lilith is warm blooded while Siren is cold blooded. In our birth charts it can shows where we can become manipulative, turn to our dark side and take what we want with strategy, seduction and mischeviousness.

It can also describe our seductive aura, or how we attract and magnetize others with charm (this can be both conscious or subconscious, depending on how in tune you are with yourself, and also can depend on which sign or house you have this asteroid in)

So, are you interested in knowing how you emanate this irresistible appeal?

Keep reading 💄

S I R E N E ⁕ T H R O U G H ⁕ T H E ⁕ S I G N S :

⁕ Aries/aspecting Mars/1°,13°,25°: Bold, assertive and fearless. Doesn't matter if the rest of their chart has quiet,cutie poofie placements, when asteroid Sirene gets activated these natives becomes confident queens/kings and knows how to defend themselves. They don't lose time to get what they want, they get straight to the point and they know they didn't come to play but to win. Their seductive charm lays in how confidently they carry themselves, people see these natives as natural leaders and warriors. They carry a powerful and intense aura you just can't ignore, the types that dare to do or say things that should't be done or said (but coming from them they sounds so cool gosh). Their facial espressions are intense and animated, and draws people in.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Taurus/aspecting Venus/2°,14°,26°: The walking sleeping beauty (lmao is she sleepwalking?). Jokes aside, here you can see how unaware these people are of their allure, and this is part of their charm too. They have such a calming and indifferent aura that makes everyone comfortable around them, and people get obsessed by this feeling of peace these natives exude that they can't have enough of. Usually they are the silent type of "Sirene", it's kind of a dormant feature in them. They are very sensual in their mannerism, and if they get to the point of being aware of how powerful they are well, it's the end of the game. They can seduce EVERYONE with their touch. The Queen Mida (oh yeah and they want that gold) 👀

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Gemini/aspecting Mercury/3°,15°,27°: Everyone's fling. Such a flirty aura. They're very smart and intellectual, and everyone find them extremely interesting, so they automatically are drawn in because they want to know more (and some people will desperately show off to get their attention, it's insane). They can get quite some hidden envy from others because of how witty they can be. These people have a way with words, when they speak everyone else shut down to listen to them. I find having Sirene asteroid in Gemini is very similar to being a Siren/Mermaid how it's described in mythology, they are very cunning when they want to, know how to play games with other's minds, they are very good at putting masks on and turn the cards in their favours. (Also, the ability of sirens to change their body features reminds me a lot of Loki in Northern Mythology which happens to be associated with Mercury) They're the true puppet master and they know it. They have light and quick movements. One minute they're near you, the next one they disappeared from your view, and this is extremely fascinating to people. It's like they can't catch them even if they try so hard.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Cancer/aspecting Moon/4°,16°,28°: I think of these natives as the spy who pretend to play the damsel in distress, portrayed in old hollywood movies. Don't be fooled by their cute acting. They're actually quite good manipulators. People love how inviting they feel, so warm and nurturing, they have a healing aura to them. These natives makes other people feel like they need to protect them from the dangers of others. I think Sirene in Cancer can be naive at first, especially when inexperienced, but when they get their heart broken oh boy. If Gemini was the master at mind manipulation, Cancer is the master at emotional manipulation. Overall these natives can be pretty unaware of their behaviour, sometimes getting overwhelmed by their emotions, but they can also be one of the most destructive people ever when activating the Sirene energy(both to others and themselves) if they aren't in control of it.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Leo/aspecting Sun/5°,17°,29°: OOOOH those hip swings, you can recognize them instantly from just their catwalk, it's simply hypnotizing. These people take pride in their sensuality, and they know how to use it very well. You can't escape their attention if they have claimed you to be their prey. Another go getter like Aries, but not so in your face, because even if their focus is on what they want, they'd rather give ALL the signals until what they want comes to them. Very much like: i believe, i attract. Their charm is in the way they carry themselves, so wild and raw, a power of nature, these natives hair can play a huge part when when presenting themselves to the world. One of their game tecniques is the push-pull. They enjoy a good chasing, and it's also a way for them to test you if you're worthy of their time (yeah, they have big egos, so beware of that)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Virgo/aspecting Mercury/6°,18°: The unattainable one. Like seriously, people get obsessed over conquering the heart of this person just because of their nitpickiness and because they are unavailable 24/7. Others can get obsessed over fantasizing on these natives and creating stereotipes when they didn't even shared a conversation in the first place like...this is some powerful stuff. They naturally look so put together, when they wear basics it looks hot on them. Their seduction way is showing how skilled and talented they are, they can literally do anything when they activate the Sirene energy, they get obsessed over a thing and practice until they have mastered it (coff coff, hello... low self esteem and need of appreciation from others 👀). However, once they get some potential suitors they lowkey refuse them like they don't need them anymore, lmao, this is what drives them craaaaazy, "you did all that stuff for mee and now you're walking away? " 👁👄👁 Lemme get some morreee.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Libra/aspecting Venus/7°,19°: The too good to be true one. They put sooo much thought and intention and effort to present themselves that everyone can't help but look at them all the time. On top of this magnificent presentation add also a flirtatious and extroverted personality that pleases literally everyone around them and BOOM, you can't excape the trap of falling for them. They have a gracious and light aura, great posture and poise, literally princesses/princes. They truly feel like royalty, they also have this natural rich people vibe if you know what i mean. The best at getting what they want in social settings, can have a very innocent vibe that people love. People pleasing is their tecnique to get what they're after. They are one of the most seductive signs in this asteroid, but they're kinda unaware of it. I mean, sure, they know they're pretty but they don't know how many hearts they rob. Even strangers gets captivated by their charming presence, most likely to have suitors telling them "it was love at first sight".

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Scorpio/aspecting Pluto/8°,20°: Heavy aura, attracts anything without even trying. They know how to make an entrance (Leos too, but Scorpios are much more subtle, and still, they get so much attention). People automatically throws themselves at these natives, all it takes is a glance and a little smirk and they living magnets. These people holds the throphy for being the MOST seductive of all the Sirene asteroid's signs . There's just something so intoxicating about them, you can't not get obsessed with them. They are the ones that has to be particularly careful of their aura because they are in this energy all the time and they attract a lot of stalkers, obsessive people, so these are (and should be) the natives that should have firm and clear boundaries. They'll find themselves stepping down at times just to calm this powerful magnetizing field around them, especially if they don't like the spotlight, but if the rest of the chart has placements that like to be the center of attention, this is surely a bombshell placement (watch out for the immense envy/jealousy from others)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Sagittarius/aspecting Jupiter/9°,21°: Their spontaneity is contagious. They're hot and cool, and know how to talk to people. Give them a night and they will befriend literally everyone at the party, and will reap so many opportunities out of nowhere. A favourite of the masses. Sometimes they can be a little loud and can get envy/jealousy from others, probably because of a rigid opinion they have, but they surely know how to play with it, telling jokes and conquering again the trust of those that didn't like them. They have such a careless and free spirit that they literally live day by day, without worrying much about the future, and people find this extremey hot. This placement is one of the most underrated one in terms of seduction, honestly when researching for this asteroid i found many siren-like women in our history that had/have Sirene in this sign, and i think it makes sense thinking about it, because Sirens are in their natural habitat out in the wild, so there's a sense of familiarity between the native and the raw energy of Sirens.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Capricorn/aspecting Saturn/10°,22°: The strategic and cold diva. People cannot enter their inner world and their vulnerabilities and this drives them mad and obsessed over knowing what's behind the mask. Can embrace their seductive charm later in life (probably from their 30s on). I have noticed these natives can have strong facial features that are difficult to forget. Attracts wealthy suitors, or will use their seduction to attract opportunity to get into power positions. They have an authoritative and mature aura, slow but decisive movements, can be intimidating to others, big D energy. Demanding of others and themselves. Calculating every move they make, good at getting the favour of those in charge. Could find themselves attracted to older/more mature people or they could attract them a lot. Intense, can be similar to Scorpio Sirene, but people are much more wary when approaching them (this is why usually older people are attracted to these natives, because they give off the vibe of knowing what they want)

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Aquarius/aspecting Uranus/11°,23°: The one that to seduce just have to be authentic and nonchalant. Weird in a cool way, they catch people's attentions without even knowing, but just doing their thing. Their independence and uniqueness are their strong seduction charms. They're pretty unaware of their appeal because they don't even care about seduction in the first place, they have other things that go onto their mind. Their authenticity and disinterest may not attract many suitors, but the ones that get attracted by them are genuine and shares similarities to them, so they might find even THE ONE with this non-method-method. If they're interested in seducing, they might use very peculiar and unconventional ways to do so.

⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕⁓⁕

⁕ Pisces/aspecting Neptune/12°,24°: The innocent mysterious person everyone is secretly obsessed with. People will find themselves having wild fantasies on this person and not even knowing why. The way they walk and talk is smooth and divine, like they have a light surrounding themselves. Their eyes always seem to wonder around, like they're never in the present moment, and this fascinates people a lot. If they make eye contact when talking to you or listening to you, they will hypotize you 100%, even if they're not really listening or are having other thoughts. There's just something so enchanting and special about their eyes, also, often these people will have unique eyes or stunning shapes/colours (ex. Liz Taylor has Sirene in Pisces and she is known for having one of the rarest world's eye colour, purple). The least aware of their Sirene charm of all the signs.

M o r e ⁕ o b s e r v a t i o n s:

Water sirene: innocent and wandering eyes

smooth and relaxing voices

Fire sirene: fierce and sexy eyes

clear and powerful voices

Air sirene: playful and flirty eyes

high pitched, unique and chameleon voices (good at changing their tone depending on the situation)

Earth sirene: sweet and calm eyes

deep and warm voices

And you've reached the end of this post! 💄

I hope you enjoyed it, i kinda wanted to include the houses too, but i think it'd been way too long to digest, so stay tuned for another post on Sirene in the houses

Edit: I published Sirene in the houses too! Click below to read the post (i also included Celebs examples)✨

I wish you all a wonderful day ahead! ✨

Yours,

Linnie

[comicaurora]

Following off of, but moving away slightly from all the Fate talk: If you were to write a ‘King Arthur but female’ story, how would you go about it? What would you look for in such a story?

I can think of a couple ways I'd do it!

First, the easy part. Sword in the anvil/stone, whosoever draws it forth is the rightful king of England. Well shit, that little peasant girl just pulled it out like it was nothing. Hail to the king, any objections can be directed to The Indomitable Soul Of Albion Herself.

Or, if ancient England accepting a lady king is too much of a stretch, Merlin has a habit of helping people out with magical disguises. If necessary - and if it would be fun from a story standpoint - our peasant girl of Secret Noble Heritage could get a magical disguise that lets her appear male. Could even go full fairy tale and do something like having her appear as her true self at night, and King Arthur during the day. If we really wanted to blend it, we could let her female identity be Morgan le Fay, Merlin's student with an affinity for dark times. However, doing that would spoil the potential gay drama of letting Morgan be a powerful villainess who learns Arthur's true identity early on, and that might be too good to pass up. And since Arthur's eventual destiny is to be taken to Avalon by Morgan to sleep until England's greatest hour of need, that gets Cool Layers if we let them have a whole enemies-to-lovers thing going throughout.

Arthuriana is extremely loose in the canon department anyway, so while there are touchpoints I'd want to hit, we'd have a lot of freedom of movement in how we'd hit them. This would basically just add layers of characterization to how Arthur would handle the various adventures she gets into - especially if she feels the need to obscure her identity from some or all of her knights. There's a surplus of damsels in various folktales that could be Arthur stuck in her secret identity due to Magical Hijinks.

Unfortunately, Guinevere's foundational role in the story almost always involves her sleeping with dudes who are not Arthur, and since the overall story of Camelot is a tragedy whose downfall is brought on by a schism in the royal family, we might need to keep that for thematic consistency. And it takes on layers if we stick with the "Arthur's public identity, at least at first, is a Dude" thing, because - shocking as this may be - some people actually aren't even a little bit gay, and if Guinevere ended up politically wedded to Arthur only to learn that her husband is in fact not her preferred gender of lover, she might not be jazzed about that.

Other than that, let the cool swordfights and quests remain unchanged and I think you've got a good recipe for episodic character drama.

[factual-fantasy]

24 asks!! :0000🌟🎭🌟

I HAVE!!! :DDDD

Kinger and Caine are my favorite characters! I've seen a lot of theories and fanart and I've already started making my own AU and angst and everything but I cant DRAW any of that yet because I'm REALLY BUSY with an OVERDUE PROJECT AAAAA

(In recent development, Asgore is unable to heal Spamton because he is a darkener :((( )

I think it might have been addressed at one point yeah :0 Maybe something was wrong with Seam and Asgore reached out to help. In which Seam was terrified and Jevil jumped in to protect him. Asgore could see the trauma and tension in the both of them so he carefully backed off.

Later he could hear from Seam about their pasts and why they were afraid of him. Asgore would then try to take steps to.. not..? Be scary to them?? <:D

Spade king could have talked in a very gravely and booming voice. So Asgore is sure to always talk softly and clearly. He is careful to not make any sudden movements around Seam and Jevil. If he's reaching for something near Seam/Jevil he will gently announce what he's doing and make sure they understand before he does it.

Asgore with his hands in his lap: "Seam, I want to grab that bag.."

Seam: *turns "huh?"

Asgore, hands still in his lap: "That bag beside you, I'd like to grab it."

Seam: "oh, okay,"

Asgore then gently reaches for the bag, making sure that Seam can see his hand coming.

Little things like that would really ease Seam and Jevils nerves. And its what made Asgore so trustworthy to them. The fact that he cared so much about their comfort and went above and beyond to make sure they felt safe around him.

Not really a parental figure. He sees Seam as his equal in every way. So like.. he sees him as his brother of the same age.?

@beryl-shade

Oh he didn't lock Seam up in a cell. He just put shackles around his wrists and neck :00

The thing about Jevil is that the bigger the group got, the worse his habits became. And the harder it became to break those habits.. Jevil was the one who collected these people, so they are his responsibility. Giving up his food not just for Seam, but for everyone. Staying awake to keep the fire large and roaring to keep the group warm.

The others try to help him.. but they would have a hard time getting Jevil to listen to them. Telling him he needs to eat, sleep or just relax. He probably wouldn't listen because he's a bit stubborn and is probably riddled with anxiety 24/7.

Although when Asgore came around things got a lot easier.

Asgore is very powerful and has proved his trustworthiness multiple times to Seam and Jevil. So although the royal vibe is off putting.. Jevil trusts him to watch the fire at night and protect the group. Seam has been able to reason with Jevil about the food part a little too.

Jevil: "You need this food more than me. You gotta keep your strength up until we can find someone to break these chains!"

Seam: "Jevil, you consume energy to make those mirrors to other worlds. How are you supposed to keep looking for someone to break my chains, if you're collapsed on the ground, too weak to make another mirror?"

Jevil: "......."

Jevil: *takes ONE bite out of sandwich

I was thinking around 10 years or so..? Maybe more? Haven't really decided :0 And he was able to escape by making a mirror and stepping through it. That mirror basically poked a hole in the walls of the AU and he was able to step out of the AU. Effectively stepping out of his cell and breaking free :}

Also thank you!! :DD

@gracebeth3604

I've completely ignored comments like this recently because I don't wanna deal with all the drama that will surly follow. But you were really polite and very thorough with your evidence.. sooo I guess I might as well answer it now,

I am aware that people use they/them for Seam. But -> my version <- of Seam goes by he/him.

I don't reeallly have a Splatoon AU..? And I haven't played Splatoon in a while- although I do still like it and have made some Splatoon ocs!

These drawings are pretty old. I've been meaning to come back and re-draw them haha <XD

Yeah its okay to tag like that. Like "seam and jevil" or "mario and luigi". That's just tagging them as being in the same post, no big deal 👍

Also no, no art of any kind. If you truly wanna show that you appreciate my work then leave comments. Maybe reblog once in a while or send me an ask. The comments don't have to be anything complex. You could leave a "Looks great!" comment on 50 posts of mine in a row and I will see what you're doing and appreciate it endlessly.

@genericcereal-wastaken

(I most likely will lol XD) Also thank you! I'm glad you love it! :DD

@elegysonnet

Honestly I can see Seam wanting nothing wrapped around/touching his wrists for a while.. even though they need it. But he could accept cold rags being dabbed on the wounds to ease the stinging.

As for what he'd eat? Dude- anything XDD Probably a burger to start. He'd just take a big fat bite and cry about how good it tastes 😭

And yeah! Now that he has his full range of movement he has his cat like flexibility back :}}

When it comes to Seam using his magic? Its hard for a while...

He hasn't used it consistently in so long.. he would be rusty, and probably anxious to use it again. It would take a lot of sparing and gentle guidance from Jevil and probably Asgore to get his grove back.

It would also take time for him to physically heal. Having his body's energy constantly drained has really effected his ability to control his magic. He would need a few weeks of good sleep and hearty meals before he could get his groove back. But he'll get there. With the group/Jevils support, he would eventually be back to the way he was. Equally matched with Jevil. :}

@clevermakercupcake

Thank you!! :}}} 🌻🌻

I don't remember that, did he do that?? Kwazii whyyy that's nasty XDDD

@cupcake-kingdom

Seam is frightened and confused but appreciates the message! XD

Joy. There's just joy and relief everywhere.

There has been a constant anxiety over this group- not just Jevil, that Seam would suddenly collapse and die. Finally succumbing to the chains draining properties.

Now that the chains are off? Seam will heal. He will eat and stay full. He will absorb those calories and turn it into energy. And he will keep that energy. When he sleeps he will wake up feeling rested. He will heal, he will live.

For Seam, it was almost too good to be true. It just, it blew his mind. He was free. He was really free. No more pain, no more aches. No more hunger. His freedom truly starts here. The relief he felt can't be described. He cried, hard. But he also laughed, and for the first time in years, he smiled.

And Jevil? He couldn't speak. He just cried and cried and cried.. He couldn't let go of Seam. He couldn't stop looking at his wrists. Exanimating them over and over again. As if he couldn't truly believe it. All the anxiety, all the worry, all the sleepless nights. They were all over. Seam was gonna live, he didn't have to worry anymore. He couldn't let go of Seam, he couldn't stop shaking, he couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop smiling.

They will likely leave some kind of permanent scar on Seam yes.. but his floofy orange fur hides the scars around his neck. And the scars on his wrists will be somewhat covered up by his fur. So thankfully they wont really be noticeable. <:)

@nunyabusiness459

Heck yeah. After they cry their souls out together they go and crash for like 6 hours or something XDD

(Also funny username, made me laugh! XD)

WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And heck yeah!! Feel free to send me your AU stuff when you're done/ready! I'd love to see it! :}}

@ocinstituterep I imagine he's just reeeeally quiet about sneaking out. My Kwazii doesn't sneak out though he knows better XD

Thank you so much! Also Spongebob has angst??? :00000

Things are mostly better!

Little Red got her knees fixed, Escorts broken down a few times but he's currently in working order! Suburban is stiillll a work in progress... undrivable at the moment- :x

Greenie now takes all 4 limbs to start, Brown is out of the garage and U.M is out of the trailer! Pretty good stuff :}}

(If any of that made sense to you I applaud you for your dedication to my Transformer ocs <XDD)

@skywillow28022

She does exist, although I didn't have any real plans for her.. maybe she was just a gal that the bros knew in passing back on Earth.?

@beryl-shade

I feel like none of them would willing visit that old stage.. expect for maybe Foxy. I feel like Foxy would be a very emotional and tender hearted character. I can see him not wanting to "leave them behind" in a way. He would come back now and then and talk to the stage as if they were standing on it and could hear him. The staff think that Foxy's programming just hasn't properly registered that Chica and Freddy are gone. And in a way.. they're right..

Foxy cant let go of their memory. And despite how much it would ache seeing that empty stage, I can see him coming back to it anyway..

This also means that part of the reason why Bonnie and Foxy clash so much now is that Bonnie is trying to snuff out any memories and feelings of the past. Meanwhile Foxy is wallowing in those memories and refuses to let go.

If any of the four of them had to preform on that stage once again? Oh man. That would hurt. It would kill Foxy to stand in the place of his late friends. He would feel guilty, ashamed.. Monty and Roxy also couldn't handle it. They would be crushed. Monty would likely get emotional and angry. Roxy would want to run and hide her face. Maybe the three of them would find a way to fake a malfunction so they could just get off the stage..

But Bonnie? Man. Maybe he's so overwhelmed that he just goes on autopilot and finishes the performance. Only to have a complete mental breakdown in his room later.. being so close to the memory of Chica and Freddy.. its crippling to him.

@skatermusic

Daww, thank you :}}}

[polarisbibliotheque]

Can You Hear The Rumble? - Vergil x Reader

Music Inspired Fics (Devil May Music) - Cirice, by Ghost

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone knew the kind of demon a hunter should be wary about is the one who plays with their victim's minds. You and Vergil were very proud on the outside - but how would it be when having to save each other on the inside for the first time?

TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of blood, cuts, bruises, scars and suffering on both Vergil and the reader's sides. The reader also struggles with perfection and self-loathing - in a "I'm never going to be a good person" kind of way, because I needed to get more intimate on the reader's part as well - and there are scenes with the reader covered in cuts and bleeding, though not self-imposed, it could be read like that. Those scenes are the reader's and Vergil's internal images of themselves. Reader and Vergil meet each other on their imperfections and the darkest parts of their souls, so BE WARNED. This might not be everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of potential triggers.

Author's Note: @tokkis-shelf asked me if Vergil's part of the Halloween special was inspired by Cirice, and here we are now. It is what kickstarted the song-fic requests! As with a lot of people, I think, Cirice is pretty personal to me.

In the video, it was so comforting to me seeing the black sheep being represented hahahaha and I guess that's why people love it so much. The part where they hold hands? I died, I'd never let go, I cry my soul out upon watching. (I did a very similar drawing to that scene when I was in school around 15 years ago, so it drop-kicked me out of my body xD)

Now, when writing this, I kept in mind that this song has a double meaning and can be quite comforting and quite manipulative at the same time - hence why I use the "can't you see that you're lost without me?" in two different situations, 'cause I think Cirice can be interpreted in so many ways and each person takes what they need from this song. I hope you guys like it!!

Plus, the song the reader and Dante sing at the end is The Power of Love, by Huey Lewis and The News

Cirice, by Ghost

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

It happened every time Vergil walked in the darkness.

That voice in the back of his head, silently taunting him, the hiss of a quiet viper in the hopes of taking him back to the darkest parts of his soul. Quiet, lurking, whispering… Mundus always there, somewhere in the folds of his consciousness, guiding him back into the void – luring Vergil back into his shackles.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

As if Vergil couldn’t belong anywhere else, as if his place was in Hell. After all he had been through, after all the sins he perpetrated, he believed wholeheartedly there was no hope for him at all – only a fool’s hope; only a glimmer of a wish he wasn’t as tainted as he was… A desire to not be such a monster as he was.

Pacing quietly through the empty cathedral, Vergil had already learned not to give in to those thoughts – to keep them at bay, as only a whisper in the darkness, of trickster voices that would always remind him of how inhuman he was.

It was times like this Vergil longed for the faint glimmer of the moon, or the warm ghostly light of a candle. It was easy to get lost in the dark, but a single ray of light could help through the direst of situations. That night, though, it seemed like the moon had fallen asleep behind the curtains of the clouds – Selene hiding her tears for her earthly lover in his eternal sleep.

None of you knew what that night entailed – you weren’t even certain what you were dealing with. That was the reason why Lady strutted in the Devil May Cry, not too fond of taking a job she didn’t know if it was up to her abilities.

“Well, looks like I have a new one for you to pay your debt, big guy!” Her singsong voice interrupted the ambience of the jukebox; Lady entering the shop with Kalina Ann and all.

“Eh, I’m never gonna be free of my debt, Lady, let’s be honest.” Dante sighed, putting his feet down and throwing his magazine across the table, shooting her a serious glare. “But things have been borin’ lately, so one of your odd jobs’ not gonna hurt. Whaddya have for me?”

“You talk as if I never help you enough to maintain this place.” She lifted one eyebrow, approaching the big desk at the middle of the shop.

“Gotta give the woman credit, Dante. Last month’s bills were on her.” You shrugged as you had finally come out of your shower, happy to see Lady around, still drying your hair with the towel as you went down the stairs.

“See? Someone who has a bit of common sense.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish as she gestured towards you.

“You know where you are, Lady. ‘Common sense’ isn’t much of a thing in this household.” You greeted her by quickly blowing her a kiss while passing by, making your way towards the couch where Vergil was quietly reading.

“Ey, you’re hurtin’ my feelings like that.” Dante put one of his hands over his heart, laughing alongside you as you kept on your way. “But fine. I’ll give ya that, Lady. So, what’s up? What job do you wanna throw at me this time?”

“I am not throwing it at you.” And there it was: you could always see when Dante stroke a nerve when Lady got defensive and with that fiery stare on her multicolored eyes. “If you wanna do it, great, if you don’t, I can deal with it myself just fine. I’m here to be a good friend since you can barely afford all that pizza you keep stuffing yourself with!”

As you sat by Vergil’s side, you both exchanged a telling glare. Just like you, Vergil was used to observing people. Granted, he didn’t know Lady as much as Dante or even you, but he did know her since he was very young. That fiery, easy-to-anger personality had been there since they first met at the Temen-ni-gru – and Vergil argued it was one of Lady’s traits that would never change.

Something he was quite pleased with, if he had to be honest with himself. It was a good trait for a human demon hunter like her. Dante always praised human’s hearts and particularly their love and empathy – Vergil praised their burning anger that made them unconquerable in the direst of circumstances.

“Jeez, alright, alright, don’t shoot me!” Dante raised his hands as if he was at gunpoint, making you wheeze quietly. Vergil side-eyed you for a while – half judging, half holding his own laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Humpf.” Lady rolled her eyes and took a slice of pizza from the box resting on the desk, pointing at Dante with it right after. “You know I wouldn’t bring you something if it wasn’t important.”

“Actually, you would.” With those words, Dante rested his arms crossed on the table – all the while, you and Vergil watched it all as if it was a show. Who needed a TV when you had those two? “But you’re bein’ too dodgy ‘bout it, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

“I got a call from a priest in a city nearby.” Lady’s answer was uncharacteristically quiet, followed by a bite from the pizza while she seemed pensive and in any hurry to chew it. “I’ve done some jobs there, know the guy, he’s nice. All the times he called me, it was always a quick, good-paying job. He said some weird things have been happening at the cathedral for the last couple of weeks.”

“Not to sound mean, but there’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ at churches.” Dante’s eyes carried a bit of skepticism: ‘weird things’ didn’t always entail a job for the Devil May Cry – and it usually ended with all of you hunting a rogue raccoon or something.

“I know. But this guy, he doesn’t get scared easy, ok? He’s one of those types of priests who’ll try to shoot down a couple of demons with a shotgun and, if that doesn’t work, he gives me a call.” Those words, though, made you and the Spardas raise your eyebrows. Indeed, it was a rare type of priest, but a good one to keep as acquaintance. “He said the cathedral is increasingly quiet, even from noises outside, with occasional distant noises that are not done by any of those who live there. After it all started, the other priests reported having weird nightmares, of being chased by something in the dark, inside the cathedral – this thing whispering things they can’t understand. Alright if it happened to one or two, but soon all of them started waking up in the middle of the night with similar nightmares – and, catch this, the higher ups of the clergy didn’t tell the common priests about it, but they all reported the very same dream.” Those words caught everyone’s attention. Vergil finally closed his book and leaned forward, paying attention to Lady’s retelling of the priest’s misfortunes. “The priest has been trying to figure out what’s going on, but some old books appear to go missing from the library, only to re-appear as if nothing has happened. Some books are missing pages, something that never happened before. He also said the inside of the cathedral has been getting darker and darker as the weeks go by. As if something is approaching – his words, not mine.”

Vergil immediately furrowed his brows and seemed to turn into an ice sculpture right by your side. You risked a glance, finding him with his usual dark aura – pensive, somber and quiet; hunter’s eyes showing themselves in a matter of seconds.

“Rare are the creatures in Hell in search for knowledge…” He muttered loud enough for his brother and Lady to turn their attention to him. “But those who do, are usually among the worst. Haunting noises, torn books, nightmares, dead silence and total darkness…”

“What? You think those Hell Piranhas came out of their pit?” Dante’s question had a bit of fun in the words, but his eyes were serious and he didn’t allow his lips to smile.

“Could be. Could also be a demon trying to mimic them to hide something else.”

“Hell Piranhas?” You and Lady didn’t need a cue to ask at the very same time. Neither of you had ever heard of that – and both of you had heard of a lot.

“This is not their name, but it is how Dante calls them since we were kids.” Vergil almost sighed in response.

“How we both called ‘em. Mister smart-pants over here isn’t that much better than lil’ ol’ me.” Dante winked at both of you, making you giggle quietly in return. “They’re kinda like illusion demons, but they like stayin’ in the darkness and gatherin’ knowledge. Usually work for someone bigger, though.”

“And even if they don’t, they swallow up all their knowledge and that is dangerous in itself. Afterwards, they feed from the victims they have been toying for so long.” Vergil continued Dante’s thought, ignoring his brother’s previous words. The more you didn’t think about what Dante had said about him, the better – for Vergil couldn’t deny it. “They hunt in packs, and the more victims, the more powerful they become. Some call them the Pit Deceivers, others call them the Lie Weavers…”

“You call them Hell Piranhas.” You concluded bluntly, making Vergil stare at the horizon with emptiness in his eyes – he could say all he wanted, flex all his demonic knowledge, you heard the Piranhas and now you’d never forget it.

“I never heard of them.” Lady had her eyebrows furrowed, searching her memory for some story like that.

“They either don’t leave the pit that much or not many humans survive to tell the story. That’s why.” Dante pointed at a great, old book Vergil had left on one of the tables a long time ago and now it was its official resting place. “You can find it only in the likes of the Codex Daemonica.”

“So either we have them around, or it’s something else. Something bigger. Right?” As you asked, Vergil only agreed with his head as the attentions turned to you. “Or something mimicking the Piranhas.” And Vergil had to sigh at your addition. He would never have peace again. “The mimic or the master, what kind of demon would the Piranhas answer to? If they are that obscure, I take it their existence is more of a niche knowledge in Hell rather than a common information.”

“On that, you are correct…” Vergil murmured in response, falling back into his pensive demeanor. You knew he would be lost for a while.

“See? Good thing I brought this for you, then.” Lady waved dismissively at Dante, but you could sense a little edge in her playful voice. Dealing with big things was fine, same as dealing with cruel demons and the ones that played the big-scary-one persona. Unknown demons were another kind of monster – one only Dante and Vergil used to deal with. “Plus, they always pay well.”

“Eh, I won’t be seein’ much of that money, if I know ya well.” Dante scoffed, having a small smile hidden in the corner of his lips; his tone and demeanor, though, were quite somber and you knew the red devil was taking it seriously.

“If you don’t mind, Dante, I would like to take over this one.” Vergil finally declared while getting up from the couch. “I know some of the hellish creatures who might make use of the Weavers or mimic them.”

“Fine for me, I’m needin’ some time to rest.” Dante sighed, but looked right back at you while Vergil rested his book on the big Devil May Cry desk. “But I’m gonna feel a lot better with someone around to keep an eye on ‘im, pretty thing.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on letting you guys deal with this all by yourselves anyway.” You got up from the couch, immediately receiving a glare from Vergil. “I’m going, blue devil, whether you want it or not. I want to get acquainted with these Piranhas.”

Vergil only closed his eyes, letting out the longest and most regretful sigh you ever heard in your life.

And there you were – although Vergil lost track of you quite a while ago. He knew the stirrings rippling through his heart when you were in danger; and being the fierce human you were, Vergil wasn’t worried about having you search for the demons in the cathedral.

There was, though, a slight uneasiness. That voice echoing in the darkest parts of his soul, it always came as an omen – causing nothing but destruction, inside or outside of himself. Vergil never could really say which one would be, but both were devastating.

“Veeeeergil…”

His steps came to a dry halt in the middle of the cathedral. The night outside the colorful stained-glass windows was pitch black, robbing the colors of their warmth and light – the fire on the candles, long dead in that cold night. The whisper that crept to his ears, like stark chalk on a chalkboard, dragged itself through the marble floor and took a hold of his soul in its clutches.

It was a different kind of sound – different from the ones inside himself, calling him to the darkness. It was from the outside… The Lie Weavers. Slowly coming up, finding him as their next victim. He was close to one of the places they were certainly lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for someone they could consume.

Vergil never feared the darkness. Tightening his grip around Yamato, his steps resumed his way, approaching the places in the cathedral the faint light of the night could barely touch. Those demons should have known their end was near, and he was the harbinger of their demise – he expected all kinds of trickery, of resistance, of fight from them.

He did not expect to hear a familiar voice, filled with uncertainty.

“Vergil…?”

Halting his steps once more, this time his silvery eyes lost their predatorial gaze as his heart jumped in his chest – even if for a slight second.

“Mother?”

His answer was but a whisper before he was swallowed by darkness.

*

When engaging with illusion demons, one should be aware of not falling into their element: when engulfed by it, those demons were more powerful than expected, able to subdue even the strongest of foes. Breaking from their control required mental and emotional discipline rather than brute force.

It was a slight second – a foolish slip from his human soul, disarmed by the trickery of Eva’s voice – and Vergil was surrounded by a sea of darkness and turmoil. His heart stirred with anger towards himself for being such a child, a vulnerable stupid child, tricked by a puppet of something his heart missed so much.

Eva was long dead. There was no demon able to bring her back. And he would never see her again. All that logic was tossed aside in a spark of a second by his stupid human heart, trembling upon hearing her speak his name again. Granted, Vergil only heard his mother in his dreams, barely remembering how her voice sounded in reality, and this time he heard outside himself – but he should have seen it coming. Illusion demons, trickster demons, cruel demons… They all relied on the barely closed scars inside his damned human soul.

Vergil could always count on them to re-open those wounds, making him bleed as much as he did on the floor of that cursed cemetery so many years ago – and he was a fool to fall for it after he had been through so much.

“Vergil… Can you hear me…?”

“I can, you damned deceiver. You can stop these theatrics – mimicking my dead mother will not affect me.” His voice cut through the dark like the sharpest of ice, his predatorial gaze back into his silver eyes.

“I… Don’t understand you, son. I cannot find you.” Her voice had a tinge of sorrow and desperation – but it was exactly like Eva’s voice. Vergil remembered it with a tinge of gold, probably a result of the haze of nostalgia, but today it was grounded and melancholic – perhaps, that was how Eva had always sounded… He just didn’t remember it. “I can’t find you. You aren’t home.”

“I haven’t been home for a long while.” Vergil didn’t even try to hide the growl that raised from his chest as he argued with that creature. He was used to having a puppet of his mother parading in front of him to hurt his human soul even more, but that was already getting on his nerves. Taunting him about the fact his mother ran to find him that fateful night wasn’t part of the usual games those filthy demons played – and to say they were honing his wrath was an understatement. “And I will never be back.”

“I… I cannot see you, Vergil. Where are you…? Why…?” He could hear the weeping in her voice, faint sobbing while the desperation made her words tremble. Vergil raised his head in the darkness, holding his own heart not to quiver: she wasn’t real and it was all a gimmick to affect him. He would not be affected. He was stronger than that. “Why couldn’t I save you? Those demons they… They hurt you, didn’t they? Oh, my child! My son! They hurt you and I could do nothing! I couldn’t be your mother!”

“Enough with this, filthy, hellish creature!” His voice finally exploded from his chest, roaring in the dark and echoing through the void, finding only silence. “You have no right to desecrate my mother’s memory like this! Shut your putrid mouth and stop with your rancid lies!”

The glint of the Yamato being unsheathed made the darkness recoil for a split second, only to envelop the Dark Slayer once more. His grip was tight, his eyes fiercely looking for his first opponent to direct a very well-placed judgement cut that could end all those creatures with just one swing of his hand. Vergil had enough and all the patience he carried in his being wouldn’t be enough to stop him from overkilling those demons – he just had to know where to direct his wrath.

“Don’t say those words, Vergil… You are not… Not like this.” Her voice still trembled, and his hand was still certain around Yamato. Vergil knew quite well at that state he was a weapon of mass destruction, he just had to find his opponent. His soul was screaming for him to do that, to put a stop to all that mockery. “You are good… You are my son.”

Vergil would have sliced that demon into a thousand million pieces without flinching, even if it took the form of his mother – but his eyes widened as a soft, warm hand touched his face. In all those years being taunted by demons, being tricked and mocked, seeing so many puppets of Eva, Sparda and Dante, none of them had touched him… And none of them genuinely felt like them.

It had been so many lost years he hadn’t felt his mother’s touch – last time, she could cup his entire face, thumb lovingly caressing his innocent eyebrows, but now her thumb could only reach his cheekbones. Nevertheless, it felt like her: not like a golden, nostalgic lost memory of how she felt, but exactly like Eva’s hands, even with the slight roughness of her continuous gardening.

“It took me so long to find you… I am so sorry.”

“You are not my mother.”

“Don’t say that.” Her answer was a sorrowful whisper, her thumb now carefully caressing his sharp cheekbone. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to move, convincing himself all of that wasn’t real and not allowing his heart to sway – forcing his arms to remain frozen by his side, fighting the urge to embrace her. Reminding himself: his mother was dead, killed while trying to save him, a long time ago, and nothing could bring her back. “Your heart hasn’t hardened as much as not to recognize me. You…” Her voice once more became soft, as if trying to do the same with his soul. “You are not a monster… You are my son, my Vergil.”

With those words, Eva’s hand was finally met with a tear – melting the ice from those silvery eyes.

*

There was an impending storm rumbling inside your chest.

Whenever that turmoil took ahold of your heart, you knew Vergil was in trouble. You had just finished checking your side of the cathedral, finding some things out of the ordinary but no demons, when the waves became aggressive in your chest. Your steps were already taking you to meet him, but you found yourself walking even hastier – the sound, though, eaten by the shadows that seemed to only grow around you.

Neither of you had calm seas of feelings: they usually raged like a maelstrom of emotions you could barely get through without some destruction – be it internal or external. But there was a certain note of melancholy and desperation in your heart at that moment that made you know Vergil was hurting – and that hurting, you knew quite well.

It was almost ironic how you apparently despised each other at the beginning, but after a while you came to understand; that aversion was there because you, in a certain way, were a mirror of each other. You could see in him the traits in your soul you disliked the most, and Vergil did see in you the same thing – those traits, however, were the same ones that brought you together, and made both you and Vergil feel seen and understood for the first time in your lives.

He didn’t judge your sins, as you didn’t judge his. To your eyes, he was never a monster, and to his, you could never be as crooked as you thought you were. You found each other in imperfection and, in that, you managed to talk and feel on the same level – after that, every feeling of admiration, care and love was easy to blossom.

You understood that storm, that thunder rumbling inside your chest at that very moment. You could feel it exactly the way he felt – and you knew Vergil needed help… Even if he would never say so himself.

You couldn’t hear or see him, though. You found yourself exactly at his area of patrol in the cathedral, but there was no clue as where your blue devil had gone – and for him to completely disappear, imposing presence and all, was quite an achievement in itself. The air was stiff, heavy as if the windows had never been opened, eating up any sound from the inside and the outside. The darkness was heavier than the one you had previously patrolled, shadows allowing only a few glimpses of the opulent decoration and the path in front of you – although, you couldn’t see more than a few meters beyond your feet.

If you couldn’t trust your sight or your hearing to find him, you could trust your heart: the storm would guide you. Closing your eyes, you allowed your feelings to take over, following with your footsteps in the direction you could hear his soul calling.

Those shadow creatures wouldn’t be able to hide him from you: no matter what happened or where you found yourselves, you would always be able to feel Vergil’s presence and find him in the darkest of hours.

And as the thunder in your chest cracked violently, your feet came to a halt and you opened your eyes.

Right in front of you, there was only darkness. Not like in the shadows that took the cathedral little by little, but pitch-black darkness, that no light could cast aside. To enter it would mean to be completely bare: vulnerable, lost, without guidance, naked – but the screaming in your soul made it very clear Vergil was in there.

Contrary to your lover, you were afraid of the dark. You always preferred to have a little light by your side, for you never knew what could be lurking alongside you, ready to pounce and drag you to certain suffering and death. You protected yourself by being forever vigilant, as you always did – a trait that exhausted you, yes, but luckily, in the last few years, you had Vergil around to keep a light by you when your body started giving out.

For that reason, you would never fear entering the darkness for him.

And with a deep breath, your bold steps took you inside the dark.

*

Your feet were cold, bare, stumbling over a sticky floor. Even if your eyes could see only darkness, you felt the freezing air of that night slicing your skin: you were shirtless and something was hurting… Oozing. The cold wind mixed with a faint warmness that leaked from the open wounds on your skin.

Blood. You were bleeding.

Your arms immediately wrapped around you – those scars, they were showing. They never showed before.

Running your hands quickly over your body, you could feel the warm blood slipping through your fingers; some wounds barely holding themselves closed while others still poured as in the day they were created.

That was the version of yourself you used to fiercely hide. None of those wounds were physical, none of them could be seen… But whenever you looked in the mirror, you saw them there, under your skin, under your soul, quietly resting until you couldn’t hide them anymore.

“You are lost…”

It was always the same voice, of something dark, something inside you that could break your soul if you didn’t shove it back into the darkness like you always did. That was why you were afraid; that was why Vergil always kept a faint glow by your side whenever you couldn’t hold yourself together. The dark was dangerous to you – to both of you.

“You are lost without me…”

“I can survive quite well without you…!” You growled to the darkness, keeping that part of yourself at bay. The part that gave in to the pain, that bathed in the blood and didn’t want to get up… And the part that would bathe and rise in rage, making you survive at great cost to those around you.

You were past that. And you didn’t need that to survive. You didn’t have to survive, you could live.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

“Vergil!” Your scream was a roar in the dark, looking for the one you plunged into the darkness to find. You wouldn’t give in to the trickery of those Piranhas – and you would get Vergil out of there.

They would learn they shouldn’t fear only the son of Sparda: they should also fear you.

“You think you can find him…?” After the mischievous ethereal voice questioned, you heard a giggle rippling around your feet as you stumbled on the sticky floor to find your lover. “You think you are that good? You think you aren’t a monster?”

You furrowed your brows, doing your best to ignore the voices. You knew it was that part inside of you that always taunted how broken you were, how imperfect your soul was. For the longest time you believed there was nothing good in you, nothing to save you from a life of loneliness, until you crossed paths with Vergil.

He was broken too – and he would never judge the things you did to survive your lethal wounds.

“Vergil! Can you hear me?! I’m here to find you!”

“How chivalrous, how heroic! What are you trying to accomplish?” The giggles pooled around your feet, threatening to drag you inside that pool of viscous darkness. “Trying to prove yourself? You’re never going to be perfect. You’re a black sheep, an outcast, remember? The likes of you aren’t heroes.”

“Oh, I’m no hero…” You growled back, fighting against the things trying to pull you back; fighting against the pain of the freezing cold and warmness of blood. “I’m a fucking fighter. You’re messing with the wrong kind of monster, fucking Hell Piranhas.”

“Piranhas…?” A faint whisper in the dark broke whatever control those things were trying to have over your body, starting at your feet. It was Vergil’s whisper – followed by a louder speaking tone. “Y/n! I can feel you, where are you?!”

“Trying to find you!” You screamed back, immediately dragging your feet towards Vergil. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel where he was – and there was nothing those demons could do against that.

The darkness seemed to shift for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you saw a faint, ghostly pale glow in the dark – almost imperceptible, but your heart knew, you could finally see Vergil.

And, in return, he could see you. Moving his feet, Vergil dragged heavy shackles through the floor, screeching in a horrid, soul scratching sound as he willed his body to move towards you. You could hear him grunting with the effort, another set of chains being dragged as Vergil moved his arms – slowly, but surely, wearing all of his strength to get to you.

You felt the viscous ripples of the floor creeping up your legs, almost on your knees, doing their best to pull you away – back into the darkness, back to the taunting voices, to the doubt, the hurt, the self-loathing.

“Vergil! Let me hear your voice! You’re still there, right?!”

“Yes. I am always here.” His answer came with grunts of effort, barely above the noise of the chains screeching around him.

The darkness shifted again, and his form became even more visible, as yours did to him – followed by a scream that rumbled in his chest, Vergil managed to get even closer. That made something spark inside yourself, that thundering storm breaking in your soul cracking in a scream that broke the insidious tentacles holding you back and making you lunge forward.

Once again, the glow you diffused only to each other seemed to get stronger as the darkness wavered.

“Y/n…” He growled once more, the shackles screaming on the floor as he reached out to you.

“Vergil…!” You reached out in return, barely making out the form of his fingers in the dark.

As you were almost touching each other’s hands, the heavy, muffling darkness faltered once more. You could finally see one another, as you were in that godforsaken place.

Vergil was shirtless, his body covered in wounds – new and old – bleeding profusely. His silvery eyes were red, sunken in deep shadow, surrounded by a deep purple mist on his dry skin. You could see his bones under his pale skin covered in so many lacerations you wouldn’t even know where to start healing him. His knuckles were battered, showing the flesh underneath, as well as his wrists covered by heavy iron shackles – wounds from fighting against them for so long. His hands were still long and elegant, but bony and covered in bruises.

You had never seen Vergil so hurt, so broken, so… Vulnerable.

In return, his eyes took in shock the vision of you: as shirtless as him, as battered and wounded as he was. Even if not locked in the shackles he wore for so long in Hell, you walked barefoot leaving a trail of blood behind you. Those scars, those wounds, those bruises… He knew they were there, but he had never seen those. You looked weak and tired, bloodshot eyes under dry skin, as if you hadn’t slept in ages… And those things you fought so much to conceal, now crystal clear in front of him.

Those were the scars you carried inside yourselves. The wounds you had to fight against every day – that you had to try to heal, even if sometimes it seemed impossible. The things you would never show, but, somehow, you managed to sense it in each other… Now you could see it, clear as a bright night.

And, even if you wouldn’t admit to yourselves, those were the very same breaking thunders that would keep you moving – fiercely fighting, fiercely surviving.

As you took in each other’s internal selves, Vergil’s silvery eyes finally found yours.

A loud thundering noise shook the floor underneath your feet twice, as your hearts rumbled alongside the devastating sound. You lunged forward, holding Vergil’s hand as if your life depended on it. Never breaking your eye contact, Vergil held your hand with the strength you would expect of the legendary Dark Slayer. You made each other stronger, and there was nothing that could come between you now.

His shackles immediately screeched back, pulling Vergil violently away from you. At the same time, you were grabbed by the viscous darkness – your knees, your legs, your abdomen, your arms. It pulled you back with vicious strength, doing its best to drag you away from him – back into the darkness.

“Don’t let me go!” You screamed back, tightening your grip around his bony hand.

“I will never let go!” He growled, doing the same, trying to drag his body forward – failing to notice you willed yourself towards him as he pulled you into his arms. Those silvery eyes never moved away from yours.

“You are lost…! Lost…!”

The voices chanted and screeched around you, doing their best to drag you apart. For a moment, your hand slipped and you let out a desperate scream, hurting your lungs as you were almost pulled back into the void. Vergil’s cry resembled a roar as he willed his body to move and tightened his grip in a way he didn’t hold even Yamato.

He hadn’t held his brother’s hand once. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, he would hold you even if that damned the both of you to the darkest pits of Hell.

“Can’t you see…? Can’t you see that…?”

“I am lost…!” You barked back to the voices, still staring into Vergil’s eyes, trying to catch your breath while your lungs stung as if you were inhaling a thousand knives.

As Vergil looked into your eyes, though, he knew exactly what you were going to say – and he could safely say it was the very same thing he struggled to find the words to.

“Without you.” His answer came in a dark tone, ragged from the effort he too made to be able to hold your hand.

The thunder rumbled twice again – the voices shrieked and you suddenly found yourselves being launched into each other’s arms as the forces that bind you broke into a million pieces.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding your head close to his chest, as you wrapped yours around his waist, keeping him as close as you could. His head rested on top of yours, and you kept your eyes closed – washing away the blood above his heart with the tears that streamed down your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me.” Vergil’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky, somber but reassuring. You had never been so vulnerable in front of him – and even upon seeing you like that, his reaction was to take you in his arms, to welcome you. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“And I’m not afraid of your darkness.” You tightened your arms around his cold, bony body as you felt tears running through your hair. “I can see beyond your glimmer, and I’m not afraid of what’s in the dark.” Your voice shook as you took a deep breath and Vergil’s arms held you even closer – his body shaking with the tears falling from his eyes. “It’s you. And I’m never afraid of you.”

“Neither am I of you.”

His answer was but a whisper – a whisper enough to break the darkness into a memory to be kept away in the deepest pits of Hell.

I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

*

*

*

*

“You killed the Piranhas from Hell with the power of love?”

Vergil wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or die. Or both.

Probably both.

The whole crew was there as you and Vergil never came back from the job as quickly as expected – and when you did, it looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

The priest was more than happy with the result of your work – even though you never discovered why the Weavers decided to come out of hiding nor what they wanted. The congregation was just happy they were gone and the whole reason behind it would be a long-term thing for the Devil May Cry to work on – or to keep an eye on; maybe something bigger was approaching.

You and Vergil didn’t feel like going back to the shop, though. When you were hurt physically, things were very much ok to deal with, but when the wounds were emotional… You needed time for yourselves.

Unlike his brother, Vergil was a little more responsible with his money – and you, a lot more than the two. You managed to find somewhere to spend a few nights… Which involved the both of you talking out everything you felt and saw. It was harrowing at first, something neither of you were versed in and honestly were terrified of, but it eventually brought you even closer together.

So, to say you had defeated the Lie Weavers with the power of love was something that killed Vergil inside.

And you could almost see his internal self, glaring at you with a ‘really, after all of this you say this kind of foolishness’ look in his sad, silvery eyes, as Lady stared at both of you and made the question everyone was thinking.

“Yep. Power of love, it’s a curious thing.” You shrugged, making Vergil physically groan by your side while Dante slapped his table with a huge grin on his face.

“Make a one man weep, make another man sing! Hell yeah, Back To The Future, babe!” He winked back at you as you smiled in response.

“Of all the people you could end up dating, Vergil…” Trish sat on Dante’s desk, crossing her long legs while sporting a devilish smile on her rosy lips. It was interesting how her voice could never really sound like Eva’s. “It had to be someone who references the same songs as your brother.”

“Alas, fate plays many games…” Vergil rolled his eyes, but as they rested on you, there was a vulnerability you saw only once in that pitch black darkness. “But it is kind enough to give us what we need.”

No one ever really understood what he meant, but Dante was the only one who managed to see something inside his brother’s silvery eyes that could only reflect in yours – and that made him genuinely smile.

Indeed, you would never be the romance of a fairy tale book or a romantic comedy – but you could see what lied beyond each other’s scars; taking a glimpse at the worst of each other without fear and finding whatever light was left inside. You could understand – and that was much more than most lovers in the world would ever have.

[blacktycoon]

ok so pnat theory: the "power" that's "sleeping" in mayview is or was literally BL/sandman, and the true nature of her dream-manipulation power is full-on godlike reality warping that just so happens to be localized to dreams as long as she's by herself w/o a "host", because she's literally sleeping at the bottom of the lake in the waking world. the entire consortium is a cover she's created to try and prevent people from claiming her power bc she clearly feels awful about the incident (i think it's pretty safe to assume she's being genuine there- it wouldn't make sense to apologize to gwen after everybody else vamoosed otherwise, i don't think), and the incident 13 years ago was the result of the closest anyone ever got and may or may not have been some sort of Harmonic Convergence-esque event

...what i'm trying to piece together is if "13 years ago" lines up with when davy might have gained his own reality warping powers, and also when dimitri met peekaboo, bc i'd bet that the could both be "fragments" of BL/Sandman since they deal in such pure reality-warping and peekaboo is so weirdly mysterious

dimitri says he remembers meeting peekaboo right after preschool

preschool is around ages, like... 3-5, right? ten years ago, ed was 3, so he would have been just born when the incident happened

is dimitri the same age as max/ed/isabel? or isaac? idk if we know, but... its, like, a couple years off >:/c

i guess there's no reason to say that peekaboo couldn't have floated around for a while before finding a medium... or, well, hang on, maybe peekaboo was possessing dimitri for some time without dimitri awakening, like forge in johnny rn. i could see that, especially if dimitri was, like. an infant.

ooh, y'know, maybe that's why VP was so outraged that she didn't get a name from the sphinx of truth-- she needs to figure out who's holding the fragments in order to piece them together to claim the power

(maybe the freaky shadow spirit could be another fragment too? idk, shadow manipulation... it seems like kind of a stretch but it definitely appeared around the same time)

CH. 8 PG. 61 EDIT: OKAy okay the LOCKER.

"Indeed, he was drawing more and more power from it with each passing day" that's GOTTA be the source of his reality warping ability as seen in his encounter with Hijack

"Davy sympathized with the poor thing, really, having sprung free from a prison they once shared", also:

OKay okay OKAY, so. Sealed away to rot? The [grudge] that let him go? Like... "this grudge" that Gwen and BL have "nursed" for years? "Locked" it in nighmares? The locker has a sticky note with "ZZZ" on it. Sleeping.

Davy was part of the Consortium. He was trapped, the same way as Gwen. He escaped by cutting off part of the spirit that was holding him there... and the piece came with him.

Is it possible... hmm. Is it possible that the power might turn humans into Monsters? I wouldn't be that surprised honestly, like... we see with Isaac that mediums tend to take after their sprits physically in some manner. Prolonged contact with a (Great?) Wight might have even more dire consequences.

Also the locker's got vampire and werewolf stickers on it. So. Also a ghost! And... a bur--? WAIT A BURGER

THE LOCKER HAS A *B U R G E R* ON IT

[sequinsmile-x]

The Games We Play - Chapter 1

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Well here it is. The crowning jewel in my crown of insanity. The most unhinged AU I've ever come up with.

I had this idea months ago when watching The Hunger Games, another one of my hyperfixations, and I started teasing a few people saying I'd write a Hotchniss AU based on it. Then I started getting close to a couple of milestones on here...both hitting 2 million words of fanfic and 1,000 followers on tumblr. So I said I'd write this when I hit those milestones.

Both happened yesterday.

So, here we are. I really hope you enjoy this, I've worked really hard on the story and making it fit for our beloved CM characters as well as the setting of The Hunger Games.

The next chapter will be up in a few days. For now it is set as 4 chapters, it might turn into 5 if I get a little carried away.

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.5k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Emily, it’s almost time to go.” 

She sighs as her mother calls out for her and she closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath before she looks at herself in the mirror. She runs her fingers through her dark, perfectly curled hair, making sure it was lying over her shoulders. The dark green tea dress her mother had picked out for her came down to just above her knees, the colour of it complimenting her skin tone. It was velvet, soft and clearly expensive even just to look at, her appearance at odds with almost everyone else in her district. 

She looked every bit like the Victor she wished she wasn’t. 

It had been three years since she’d won. Since her name had been called out in the town square, the murmuring of her peers around her, whispers that ‘the mayor's daughter’ hadn’t even been safe fading out as she walked to the stage. In her worst moments, the timing of her mother’s reelection, something that looked unlikely at the time, and her reaping felt suspicious. The mayor’s daughter going into the games and becoming the first Victor for the district in a quarter of a century had won the election in a landslide. 

It wasn’t lost on Emily that even if she’d died in the arena her mother would have likely won again anyway.

She liked to think that her mother hadn’t put her life at risk for a small grab of power, that she hadn’t made some deal and bartered her 15-year-old daughter’s survival like a chip in a poker game, hoping no one saw her bluff. She liked to think that, but she knew enough about how it all worked, had seen enough in the Capitol since becoming a Victor to know that power was the most important currency in this country. Instead, Emily actively ignored the truth laid out in front of her, knowing that in order to maintain appearances she had no other choice.  

She’d won, but sometimes she wondered if she’d ever left the arena at all. 

She looks at herself in the mirror one last time, smoothing her hands down her dress, her palms lingering over where the large scar on her abdomen was, the injury that had almost killed her. It was unsightly, something that made her wince whenever she saw it, but she stood by her decision to not have the Capitol remove it. She wanted to remember every day what she’d survived.

“I’m ready.” 

The walk to the town square is familiar. She’s sure she could do it in her sleep, a death march she’d been part of her whole life, something she’d done long before she qualified for the games in the first place. She felt a sense of relief that her friends would age out this year, that this was the final time their names would be in the draw, their 18th birthdays always coming with a sigh of relief because it was the last time they’d stand there, their breath caught in their lungs as they waited to hear their name called out. 

It feels like a weight is lifted from her shoulders when she spots Dave the moment she steps into the town hall. He was her mentor and friend, the only other victor to ever come from their district.  The only other person who knew what it took from someone to win the games and come home alive. 

“Hey kid,” he says, pulling her into a hug, one she returns gratefully. She freezes when she hears a throat clear from behind her, her mother’s disapproval at the father figure in her life something she’d made clear. Emily smiles tightly at Dave as she pulls back from him, and she conceals a smile when he winks at her, “You ready?” 

She blows out a slow breath. None of this ever got any easier. Having to stand on stage in silence, a fake smile painted on her face, as more children were picked for a death they’d done nothing to deserve. The screams of the parents constantly echoed in her head, never quite going away. They always came back with a vengeance when the tributes died and she knew she was going home on an empty train, with no way she could possibly comfort anyone.

She’d become a cog in the machine that she hated, and she wasn’t sure how she’d ever escape. Her victory and her biggest crime both wrapped up in surviving, in pulling herself out of the pit she’d been thrown into when she was 15. 

“Yeah,” she breathes out, pressing her lips together as she lets her mask slip into place, “I’m ready.” 

___

He has to encourage this brother out of the house. 

His father was passed out drunk in the living room, and his mother was close to hysterical at the thought of Sean being old enough to go into the games now, a level of emotion Aaron didn’t ever remember her showing for him. 

He wraps his arm around Sean’s shoulders as they approach the town square, and he feels the 12-year-old tense, his body tight with a fear that Aaron remembered well. It was a feeling that oddly faded over the years, leaving him almost apathetic now, the reality that this was the final year he’d have to do this almost lost on him until his mother mentioned it in passing that morning. 

“It will be okay Sean,” Aaron says, stopping to look at his brother, a smile he hopes is reassuring on his face, “It’s your first year. People rarely get their name called on their first year.”

Sean nods and carries on walking towards the signing-in point, “Will Mom and Dad come?” 

Aaron sighs as he ruffles his younger brother's hair, “Mom probably will. Dad’s…resting after a long day at work yesterday.”

“I’m 12, not stupid Aaron,” he says, and they come to a stop again before they both join their respective lines, “You don’t have to protect me anymore,” he shrugs, a playful smile spreading across his face, “If the government think I’m old enough to die for entertainment, I’m old enough to know Dad is a piece of crap.” 

Aaron chuckles and shakes his head before he ruffles Sean’s hair again, wondering when his little brother had grown up, “Don’t talk like that.”

Sean shrugs him off, any remnants of nerves long gone, “See you after?” 

He nods, “See you after.” 

Aaron sighs as he signs in, not even flinching as they take a drop of blood to confirm his identity, and he then walks over to the holding pen for his year group. He pauses for a moment when he spots Haley, his smile tight as their eyes meet. They’d dated for the last couple of years but ended their relationship recently, a difference in opinion on what life would hold for them once they were free from this pulling them apart. She smiles back, offering him a small wave before she turns back to her friends, and he finds a place to stand. 

He looks up as the doors to the town hall open, the usual anthem playing out through crackly speakers set up around the square. His gaze is immediately fixed on Emily, her beauty as distracting as it always had been. 

He’d known her all his life. She was from the other side of town, but they’d always gone to school together. She was nice, and funny and beautiful, never using the fact she was the mayor’s daughter to try and gain favour or popularity. If anything, she seemed to butt against the privilege it would give her, constantly pushing boundaries. They were friends for most of their lives, and always spent as much time together as possible. He’d been in love with her, always convincing himself that one day they could be more than friends. 

Then she was reaped and everything changed. 

He’d watched the games closer than he ever had that year, looking out for her as much as possible, always feeling a strange sense of elation and fear the moment he saw her. When she won he was happy, delighted that she’d survived, that he wouldn’t have to imagine a life without her, but she came back different. Changed by the things she had seen and done in the games. 

She never returned to school, the life of a Victor seemingly a busy one, and her initial attempts at spending time with him faded away once he started to date Haley. Their friendship changed by circumstances beyond their control. He’d aged out of school just a few months ago and soon as he’d turned 18 he’d got a job alongside his father. 

Aaron missed Emily, even though she was right in front of him, and he wanted to fix things one day, to be whatever she needed.

She always looked like she needed a friend, her life as lonely as it was busy, her only real company these days found in David Rossi - the only other Victor from their district. 

Their eyes briefly meet, her’s flicking towards him, a brief smile flashing across her face before she continues to look forward, stoic and strong in a way she’d been since long before he stood hopelessly in this very spot when her name rang out around them.  

He’s drawn back into what’s going on around him, all the explanations for why this was happening, the price they were paying for a war fought and lost long before they were born. The enthusiasm with which the woman from the Capitol explained it all always got his shackles up, her brightly coloured clothes and hair as out of place as her zeal for selecting teenagers to send to their deaths. 

Emily had told him once, fresh back from the games, her clothes stuffed with padding to try and hide the weight she’d noticeably lost, that the woman’s name was Penelope. That she was actually nice, albeit misguided, and that she’d been one of the few people in the Capitol Emily had been able to get along with. 

“Ladies first,” Penelope says, reaching into the giant bowl, dipping her hand into the pile of slips of paper, a literal hand of fate dealt to someone standing in the crowd. She picks a slip and unfolds it, stepping back in front of the microphone, “Kate Joyner.” 

Aaron looks over at Kate and sees the momentary panic flash through her before she steps away from the crowd and walks over to the stage. She was 17 and in the year below at school, someone he’d always got along with any time that they interacted. He feels guilty for the flash of relief that rushes through him when he realises this means Haley was free, that she’d never be at risk of going through all of this again. Despite everything, he still loved her, had still imagined a future with her, and he was happy she’d get to have the life she deserved and wanted. 

He looks back at the stage and sees Emily reach out and touch Kate’s arm as she stands next to her, a brief thing he’s sure no one else would notice unless they were looking right at her. It’s a moment of comfort, something that he’s sure doesn’t even touch the surface of what Kate is feeling. But it’s something. A reminder she isn’t alone in this. 

At least, she wouldn’t be alone until the moment she stepped into the Arena. 

“And now for the gentlemen,” Penelope says, and Aaron feels his breath catch in his chest, the few moments it takes her to pick a name seem to last a lifetime, everything drawn out into slow motion, even the breeze in Emily’s hair, loose strands moving in the wind with more freedom than any of them had ever had. Penelope picks up one of the slips of paper and unfolds it, “Sean Hotchner.” 

It takes a moment for Aaron’s brain to catch up, for him to realise what’s happened. He snaps his head to where his brother is standing. He can see from where he is that Sean is panicking, that tears are flooding his eyes as his peers step backwards from him, making it clear to everyone exactly who he is. It seemed unfair, cruel that his brother had been picked on his first ever time when this was Aaron’s sixth time going through this process. 

Aaron doesn’t think about it, his body moving on autopilot, his desire to spare his brother from this, to save him in a way he hadn’t been to save him from their father, driving him forward. He’s standing on the path leading to the stage before Sean can even start to walk towards it, and he sucks in a deep breath, before he says two words that he’s sure all but sign his death warrant. 

“I volunteer.” 

___

She freezes as she watches him walk out from where he was standing. She already knew what was about to happen. He was brave to a fault, foolhardy with his own safety, and he loved his brother. He held everyone he cared about in higher esteem than himself. His almost subconscious desire to protect everyone around him even to his own detriment something she’d known about since they were small children. 

He’d once taken the blame for damaging a vase in her mother’s house that she’d broken, claiming it was his fault that it had fallen from the table it had been sitting on even though it was her who had knocked it over. He’d teased her about it for years, and winked as he told her that owed him one.

Emily can’t help but stare as he walks up the stairs to the stage and stands next to Penelope.

“A volunteer, how exciting,” Penelope says, her exuberance something Emily cannot find comfort in for once, “What’s your name?” 

“Aaron…” he says, clearing his throat, “Aaron Hotchner.” 

His name rings out around the town square, a death rattle he was ringing himself. One that had led so many to their demise before him. The last few years it had happened under her watch, and it takes everything in her not to gasp, to continue to play the part of the victor she’d been for three years now. 

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her. She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death. 

Not when she’d been in love with him for as long as she could remember. 

-x-

Tag List:

@ssa-sparks, @ptrckjcne, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @freesiasandfics, @emilyshotchniss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[desultory-novice]

Before everyone's like, "Damn, Dess, you said you wanted to make Dark Matter Swordsman a tragic bad guy like Queen Sectonia and President Haltmann but Noir's life is implausibly bad???"

Oh trust me, I have various HC that Joronia's life was pretty awful too, going from her happy (?) childhood to "Sectonia."

And I know someone's going to ask, so let me elaborate! XD

In the Dess-verse, the various insectoid species of Popstar were a collection of small, constantly-warring, bloodthirsty nations. Joronia's tiny kingdom was the smallest. She trained from a young age in military and magic arts because unlike the others, she HAD to fight on the frontlines. They didn't have enough power without her.

Her first parasitic bodyswap was not by choice.

The young queen was struck with a mortal wound on the battlefield. Taranza, drawing forth powerful magic he never knew he could harness before the trauma of seeing his best friend bleeding out before his eyes, immediately incapacitated the enemy commander and dragged their healthy body before her as a suitable vessel.

She initially had no intentions of relying on this power. It was Taranza who begged her to do it. For herself, for her people... for him. Please, you can't die, Joronia. She was so weak she couldn't even SEE what she was doing at this point, left to follow bloodborn instincts and half-remembered stories from queens past...

...She wakes up later from death in the very body of the person who tormented and enslaved her people and "killed" her. (Definitely not traumatic. Nope, nope.) A~nd that could be said to be the beginning of her obsession with beauty and bodyswapping.

Taranza would later get her the mirror, of course. He knew it was in some way magical and actually hoped it would help Joronia to always see "her true beauty" regardless of what body she was in. And well, we know how the story played out from that....

(Meanwhile, Max's tragedy wasn't a constant stream of death and body horror happening to HIM - it happened to the people he loved...)

BONUS:

"Why yes, I can be trusted with Kirby characters...!"

Dedede - former lab animal; only survivor of his species Marx - sleep deprivation; uncontrollable mutations Adeleine - raised in a post-apocalypse; dead brother Dark Matter Swordsman - COUGH COUGH COUGH Dark Meta Knight - lover turned into a meatsuit; rendered mute Daroach - lab animal subjected to numerous experiments Magolor - severe, lasting mental and physical trauma Sectonia - forced body-swaps and boatloads of paranoia

(The sad thing is, I'm probably missing several characters! Though I tried to stick to those I'd given non-canonical trauma to. Meta Knight's potential war vet status, and the Haltmanns, the Mages, and Leongar + Fecty's stories are all there on the page, mostly.)

[foodandfolklore]

Using Sigils in your Kitchen

If you are not familiar with sigils, in a nutshell they are created by people using words, imagery, and symbolism to communicate intention through a magic symbol. These can be personal and super specific or just really general and shared by many. They're highly recommended to try since it works well for witches still in the broom closet and witches on a budget.

So what are some ways we can use Sigils in kitchen magic? A lot, actually! I touched on this briefly on my easy ways to kitchen witch, but I thought I'd go over them again, as well as offer more ideas.

Cook your food in your sigil Adding heat is one of the most common ways to activate sigil powers. So, if you got a hot pan and are about to pour some oil, why not draw a sigil? A sigil of energy to help give you a boost in the morning. A sigil of co-operation for those tense family dinners. Or maybe a symbol of beauty cause you're just so fabulous.

Eat Your Sigils So once you're done cooking, maybe at the end you want to add some sauce. Draw a sigil on your food with your sauce. Different sauce types may also help enhance your sigil. A sweet tomato based sauce like ketchup could enhance self love sigils, for example. But don't think too hard on it. Focus more on the sigil rather than what you're making it with.

Stir your Sigils I've mentioned before that I prefer to mindfully stir towards me and away from me; instead of the traditional clockwise and counter clockwise. However, if both of those methods don't work, try stirring your intentions in by recreating the sigil. Stir as though you were trying to create the sigil one stroke at a time.

Add Sigils to your Appliances I don't see this talked about nearly enough, but you can add sigils to your appliances. Maybe add one to your coffee maker or toaster to help infuse your food and drink with specific energy. I have one for my fridge to help food last as long as it can. But take a look at your appliances. Is there anything you want to work better? Anything you want to last longer? Maybe consider creating a sigil for it.

Sigils on your Work Space There are a lot of other places you can put sigils as a kitchen witch. Your spoons, your cutting board, measuring cups; add one to your cupboard to protect from broken dishes or just charge whatever dishes are in there. You can add a sigil to the bottom of your table where you eat to encourage communication and keep away negativity. If you got windows in your kitchen, maybe use a window writer to make a sigil for motivation. Do not feel like kitchen witchcraft is limited to food!

Charge Your Spices I feel like most people, when they get dried spices, will transfer them into a jar. This is for easy access and also helps preserve the spice as it's protected better from the air. So if your spices are in glass containers, why not add a sigil to charge your spices? I mean, if they're just sitting around while you do stuff like sleep and work, they may as well be doing something. I feel like general sigils will work better in this case like "Prosperity" or "Calm" sigil.

[sandybrett]

Here are my completely honest thoughts on a bunch of audio dramas I've checked out. (Don't worry, nothing scathing, they're all reasonably good. But please proceed with caution, or don't proceed, if you're involved in creating any of these shows.)

In the order I first listened:

The Storage Papers: Nine episodes in. A little slow paced, but I've heard it picks up in the later seasons. My only real concern is that it seems like a lot of the horror revolves around "this thing looks sort of like a human but it's Wrong somehow. also it kills people (or cats)." I hope at some point we meet a creature that looks and acts as unsettling as the Grinner but is nice, or at least complicated.

The Cellar Letters: Seven episodes in. I LOVE it. I love the natural-feeling messiness of it, the way Nate and Steve talk in circles and go back and forth on what to believe. It's made me laugh out loud multiple times. I can't wait to learn more about that weird little room full of letters with that one random word written on the wall (I forget what).

400 Words a Horror: Three episodes in. I had to re-listen to the first episode because I hadn't been paying enough attention, but I think that particular episode rewards re-listening anyway. Also it is the only show on this list that genuinely frightens me so I have to pace myself. Very good.

Tin Can Audio Presents: Middle:Below: Two episodes in. I won't say I'm hooked, but I am somewhat interested. It's a lot more relaxing than the other podcasts on this list, so I keep thinking I'll save it for listening closer to bedtime, then not getting around to it.

The Grotto: Six episodes in. Very much enjoying. I was SO proud of myself for correctly guessing the twist in the second episode. I love the characters and am extremely intrigued by the mysteries. My only criticism is that the musical interludes drag on too long. And I'm saying that as a WOE.BEGONE fan.

Soul Operator: Three episodes in. It's good but there isn't any particular element that's drawing me in just yet. There's a lot I don't know about the world yet, though, so there is still plenty of time for me to fall in love with this show. (Irrelevant note: I always get "Smooth Operator" by Sade stuck in my head when I think about this show.)

Shadows at the Door: Listened to half of the first episode. It was somewhat interesting, but I decided I had higher priorities for my listening time than disconnected hour-long episodes that are only *somewhat* interesting.

Archive 81: Five episodes in. Quite possibly going to become a major obsession. It's got everything: playing with point of view; the Power of Storytelling but in a menacing way; vivid character voices; probably a cult. I particularly love the way conversations play out on this show--I don't know exactly how to explain it but there's a certain... friction that happens in real conversations but rarely in fictional ones outside cringe comedy. I don't usually enjoy that sort of thing when it's played for laughs, but for realism or suspense? I eat that up. It does make me a little tense so this is another show I pace myself with and I'm glad the episodes are short.

Alice Isn't Dead: Two episodes in. I'm not going to make it a priority--it's got a similar sort of surrealism to Night Vale, but with higher stakes and less humor, and I had enough trouble getting immersed in Night Vale. I could probably enjoy it if I gave it enough time, but for now I'd rather focus on *gestures at some of the shows above*

The Silt Verses: Listened to the first ten minutes of the first episode and got bored, which I think says as much about me as it does about the show. It does get off to a bit of a slow start and leaves more space between lines of dialogue than most of these shows do, but I could probably get into it with adequate time and sleep. Not prioritizing it, for similar reasons to Alice.

[notmorbid]

demon copperhead, pt. 2.

dialogue prompts from demon copperhead by barbara kingsolver.

i was born to wish for more than i can have.

there's a shoe out there for every foot.

it's important to leave home and take a look around.

i could be very rich if i decide to extort.

i wonder how it would feel to like who you are.

old homecoming queens never die.

who died and left you boss?

sorry to say your secret is out.

i'm gonna see bad spray tans in my nightmares.

nobody rides you like you ride yourself.

i used to think i knew what hurt was.

i don't like owing anybody.

i didn't fully believe you'd come.

i've got a surprise for you later.

does some law say we all turn into our parents?

half of me is sorry. the other half isn't.

don't look for money to buy your life back.

before we were us, we weren't anything.

you look like a plaid pillow.

i thought i knew it all, in those days.

people find more ways to shut up their monsters than a bible has verses.

let's go steal a tree.

the tall weed gets cut.

a kid in my shoes takes what power they can find.

the moon went to bed already, so what's wrong with us?

i'm a horrible person. the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be.

you're too good for me. i don't deserve you.

it wasn't a secret, i just knew you wouldn't like it.

you use what you've got.

my stomach feels like i've been eating rusty nails.

some good's been known to come out of bad luck, if you face it head on.

where is the motherfucking compassion?

this is still your home, if you want to stay.

the adult in my life is me.

you look like you've seen the dead.

we were kids playing house.

come hang out any time. i could stand the company.

you have to quit being so nice to people.

i'm not one to shut any doors.

i cannot get the hang of living alone.

you should be as mad as i am.

do you want to sleep tonight, or do you want the truth?

they did this to us. you understand that, right?

of all the good people i know, you're probably the best one.

everybody needs to dump on somebody.

i've lived long enough to know that shit doesn't really bounce off.

kids aren't the problem. it's parents.

the only person you need to worry about is yourself.

i have my own honor.

part of being a mature person is knowing your skillset.

another week, another shitshow.

feel free to have a look around.

the support has to run both ways.

good people don't give up on the ones they love.

i've stayed alive so far by staying on my own feet.

i need you to wake up. sit up. we have to talk.

i love you. i would never, ever want to hurt you.

i want to draw your hands.

it's sunday. everyone's either in church or sleeping off their sins.

i want to kill you, but i'm not going to let you die.

are you testing me? or do you really not know?

if wishes were horses, we'd all have different shit to shovel.

a fallen hero shatters into more sharp pieces than you'd believe.

i thought i'd be better off without the fear.

there'll be no getting over this.

a selfish heart will keep you alive, at least.

a snake with venom is gonna bite.

going nowhere fast is a kind of juice.

trust the road, because nobody stays.

in the long run you're on the road with your ghosts. you're the ship, they're the bottle.

rehab is like being married to sickness in a lot of ways, really.

a good story doesn't just copy life, it pushes back on it.

you never were one to fall only halfway down the well, were you?

i let you go. it's what i had to do.

[gurinpotte]

let's talk process!

Bellow is a video of my latest thg art! I think I never shared video on here, so I thought I'd give it a go!

I wish this was a reblog of the original post but tumblr didn't let me. So here we are! I felt like talking a bit more about this piece because it was so good to make it. I am actually proud of how it turned out! The impression of depth works well enough and the lighting too, which made me very happy - happy to be able to give Katniss and Rue this sweet moment in such a dark story. I can't recall if this exact scene happens in the book, but it must be similar enough.

Still figuring out My Katniss. That's not exactly how I want to draw her. But a victory here is that she looks like an actual teen - something I struggle with tbh hehe. Little Rue is not exactly how I see her as well, but I love to see her sleeping peacefully like this with someone taking care of her.

This just......sprung up in my brain as listened to thg yet again because i have brainrot and need to be constantly entertained to be able to work lately. And it broke my heart and mended it continuously. Rue is so little and innocent, and even if she wasn't reaped, she already had a miserable and exploited life in district 11. That's so unfair. And the way Katniss stood by her, gave her the most she could, told her she was strong, lifted her up in the short period the two had together - makes me love them so much. Makes me love Katniss very much! This girl dared to > LOVE <. I guess that's the heart of this illustration, the daring to love in the direst circumstances.

As for the makings ofs its. T'was made on procreate with a funny little brush named quoll. Very ill tempered. But very beautiful watercolor look. I did have to do it in layers of color to get it right, which is also very watercolor-like. The thing to make it look like people are LAYING DOWN is to draw their faces as seen slightly from below. Does the trick every time. Now for the ground, I think it's the blue that gives the depth, and the lack of detail. The unfocused leaves gave me a bit of a hard time, hard to figure out their color and lighting. Even drew focused leaves. I very much lack the processing power do draw leaves and flowers and complex things. But we manage! Just keep arting and you'll manage.

[thiefbird]

"tell me what's on your mind" in an angsty way for bridglar? (only if you want!)

oooooooh yes this is excellent!

Title from Henry Purcell's Cold Song

Far unfit to bear (on AO3)

What power art thou, who from below Hast made me rise unwillingly and slow From beds of everlasting, everlasting snow See'st thou not how stiff, how stiff and wondrous old Far unfit to bear the bitter cold I can scarcely move or draw my breath I can scarcely move or draw my breath Let me, let me freeze again Let me, let me freeze again to death Let me, let me freeze again to death

He and Henry had grown incautious, out on the ice and now on the sliding rocks. They weren't the only ones; there was no God here, no Articles to desecrate. Men clung to each other at night, taking comfort where they could. Hands clutched between two men hauling, leaning against each other while gnawing at hard — too hard for teeth loosened by scurvy — biscuit. A kiss, unafraid of eyes upon them.

"Tell me what's on your mind, love," he asked in that strange Arctic twilight of near-summer, their heads bent together — Captain Crozier was in with Captain Fitzjames, now, and he could do no more tonight.

Henry smiled, pressed his temple more firmly into John's shoulder, sighing as John's arm came up around him. "You'll think me silly."

"Perhaps I already think you silly, for thinking I might object to your humour." It was a poor attempt, and they both knew it, but Henry huffed out a laugh anyways.

"I shall miss this, when we make it back to England." They all said when still, though John doubted any among them believed it now. Not with men dropping like flies. Not with Hickey's mutineers. Not with that great demon of a bear chasing them.

"Sleeping on rocks and hauling sledges? I am certain we can find you something suitably sharp, even in London. Coal, perhaps." Henry's laugh was a little less halfhearted, a little less like he was indulging John in giving it, and John chuckled with him.

"Being so open, I mean. You won't touch me like this in England. You couldn't, not where people might see. It's wicked of me, but…"

John's eyes smarted, and he tipped his chin up to stare into the grey and unending sky lest he should begin to cry again. He would not shed tears for Henry till-

Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to Henry's hair, unheeding the grease that turned his curls limp and sticky. "Not a single sliver of you could I ever think was wicked," he murmured, grateful over all things for the freedoms granted at the ends of the earth. He would not give any amount of peace to be in London if Henry were not there beside him.

"I pray for our rescue," Henry continued, rolling his eyes at John's vehemence, "but I shall miss it, having had it."

If you live, Henry, John vowed, fierce in the privacy of his own heart, and then continued out loud: "I'll kiss you in St James's Park."

That startled a true laugh from Henry, twisting in John's arms to look up into his face. "You wouldn't. God, I don't know if I'd let you," he said, his smile wide enough to break John's heart with bleeding gums.

"I would, and you will. I'll kiss you in front of the Admiralty," if only you will live. He kissed Henry's temple, his cheek, tilted his chin until he could kiss him properly; Henry would not open his mouth into it, kept it chaste so John might not taste the blood. John hated him for it, even as his heart swelled with love for him.

John had cried when his captain collapsed on the rock. He cried for Captain Fitzjames, too frail to keep himself upright, and he cried for his Henry, so close behind. He cried for himself, too, and the loss of a man he considered a friend, and the loss he foresaw in Henry's bruises.

He thought he cried for Captain Crozier, most of all, and the tears he could not shed.

He had the luxury of weeping for his captain, for Henry. No man looked to him for leadership. He had the luxury, too, of touching Henry where men could see, under the open sky. He did not have to maintain his separation from the world the way a captain did, even now.

His Henry still walked, and smiled, and joked with him, and pushed him away for being absurd. He could kiss him on the shale, and under the sky, and — maybe, maybe, if God was merciful — in St James's Park in front of the ducks. He was luckier than he could imagine.

[allwormdiet]

Arc 2: Insinuation, Concluding Thoughts

God, was this arc just one day? You're telling me it's only been like 72 hours since the start of the story and where we're at now? It feels like so much more somehow, so I guess let's get digging

Let's do the broad strokes and then go chronological through the chapter details, I don't have any kind of structure or template for this stuff but that's as good a way as any right here

I know there's so much fucking ground left to cover, but at this point I think I'm confident enough to say that I like Worm. I don't know if I'd recommend it to a friend, exactly, because I think it's rude to trick someone into reading more than a million words and also because the list of content warnings I'd have to provide up front would run longer than my forearm (I knew what I was in for going in but I also made this choice mostly independently), but I feel like there's a difference between liking a work and recommending that work to others. I think Midsommar is one of the best horror movies I've ever seen, but it also removed all the oxygen from the living room where I watched it via sheer oppressive malice so I don't really tell people "oh you should watch Midsommar," y'know what I mean?

(I don't actually know if Worm is at any point going to fill me with the same kind of yawning dread that Midsommar inflicted, so this might not be an even parallel to draw, but I'm not going to completely dismiss the possibility)

More on topic though. No fight scenes this time, but that left more room for delicious and filling character interactions. I'm so on board with the Undersiders so quickly, I love them all, the things they're going to be made to suffer are going to agonize me for years to come I think.

It also left more room for Taylor's day at Winslow High, and... okay we'll get there. Let's do this chronologically.

The Hebert family feels like it's a broken heart in the shape of a house. I wish that they could reconcile with each other, but I don't know if they manage that, or if they even can manage it. I think Annette's death tore a wound between them that never fully healed, or maybe it was on the mend before Taylor started getting bullied and now that process has just stalled out

...Speaking of which

Winslow High is a fucking pit. Like Jesus fucking Christ that was so agonizing to read. Everyone at this school feels either useless or brimming with malice, and for the life of me I cannot puzzle out why. I mean, okay, I get the mechanisms at least, the main three girls are popular and Sophia is a Ward and with that together they can bend the students and faculty around like putty, people are often willing to go along with a heinous status quo if rocking the boat puts a target on their back, yadda yadda. But just. What the hell is going on with the main three girls? You could maybe read Sophia as some kind of sadist, but that doesn't explain why she's taking to this with such gusto, and I don't know if this kind of behavior wouldn't be caught out by the Protectorate if she's acting like this around other Wards. Madison I don't even know, so far I don't actually know if there's any meaningful depth there beyond acting as a complementary force to the other two.

Emma, though. Fucking Emma. I was just talking in an aside about how I distrust any argument that paints a mostly realistic teenager as some kind of soulless monster or evil mastermind, and I'm trying really hard to cleave to that, but I just don't get what drives Emma to behave like this, how she justifies it in her own head. She's torturing her best friend, she triggered her power's awakening for God's sake, and I just don't know what can happen in a week or month that could ever make this explicable or justifiable. Maybe I'll learn something that makes it all make sense but for now it's just some kind of incomprehensible monument of cruelty

That last twist of the knife with the line about crying to sleep at night is also just. God. Like, fucking credit to Wildbow, I feel some amount of stress writing about this all like the day after reading it, that was a really really well written sequence, I just also hated every word of it.

Let's change to a happier topic

Love the Undersiders, they're all great. I love that Brian works so hard to meet on a level playing field, to be open about expectations and show vulnerability to make Taylor feel more welcome, and I like how he seems to take pride in being The Normal & Responsible One even though I somehow doubt that's the case. I love Lisa being so friendly and so quick to assure Taylor about what's going on and what it all means for her, and I literally can't stop thinking about what she must be reading off of Taylor with her powers. Alec is a snarky little snot and I love that about him, I really want to see him open up further. And then Rachel... oh Rachel. You might end up being my favorite once we manage to move past the whole "siccing dogs on the new teammate" thing.

And now Taylor's a part of the crew, and she's immediately second-guessing this decision because she's realizing that it had deeper repercussions than she'd initially thought! Like she already felt betrayed by all of them over a slight from Rachel, even though her entire goal of joining them is as a means to take them down from the inside and hand them over to the Protectorate, and that irony is absolutely not lost on her! She's terrified of being found out as a rat but still lets herself be vulnerable around these people in a way she hasn't even allowed her dad to see, and before the Undersiders he was basically the only person she still trusted for anything.

This is like, either the best or worst decision of Taylor's life, I dunno which. I'd like to think best. I'd really like it to be best.

And I think I already said this but I could gorge myself on just reading about the Undersiders fighting and growing and bonding together for the entire length of this story, and I want it so bad, and I'm not getting it until I dig up the appropriate fanfiction to that end so I'm just gonna have to cope with that

Basically fell in love with Victoria the moment I met her, I wish her the best and hope she learns to cut down on the accidental spine-breaking (if she breaks a spine on purpose they probably deserved it)

Amy... at this point I mostly just feel bad for Amy. She's gonna do bad things and a lot of it's gonna be her own damn fault but somehow I doubt she was born a monster.

New Wave in general I get weird vibes from. Like the Protectorate are cops, yeah, and cops suck no matter the uniform, but New Wave does it with nobody watching over their shoulders to check their work except for each other, and we see in their first on-page appearance how that's kinda fucked up!

...Like the guy was a Nazi so fuck him, but I don't have full faith it'll be a Nazi every time, y'know? God knows there's every chance Glory Girl or Brandish or whoever else decides to play this kind of hardball with someone a lot less guilty and a lot more sympathetic

And then speaking of the repercussions of Taylor's actions, again I'm looking at the threat of destabilization and gang warfare facing the Docks and wondering how much of the story's escalating danger is going to be a natural response to her deeds. Somehow I don't think Leviathan's attack is going to be Taylor's fault, or that she called up the Slaughterhouse 9, but she keeps making calls that are good but have unintended and dangerous consequences.

Call me crazy but I don't think I'm gonna like what those consequences look like when she acts to save the world. I'd rather she be happy than the world's greatest hero, but she wasn't even happy before she became a cape, so. Maybe she gets a legacy in the doing.

If that falls through I guess I'll just go read more fanfic.

[factual-fantasy]

25 asks! Thank you! :}} 👹

I have it in the back of my mind, but I haven't actually made any steps in making more master posts.. 😔

ReBLOGGING is good! Its a feature of Tumblr and helps more people find my artwork! Very nice :))

RePOSTING is stealing my art and posting it on your own account. Giving you and only you all the credit. That's theft and no good!

I think I remember wanting my sona to be an object head of some kind. I think I doodled probably a dozen different ideas before I got frustrated and just scribbled my most recent attempt out.

But then it hit me. I doodled two little white eyes on the scribble and I knew I had found my sona XDD

@xxthedragonrebornxx

XD Thank you for remembering my boundaries and respecting them! :)) And THANK YOU FOR THE CUPCAKE!! :DDD

I haven't read it, but I've seen it blowing up all over tumblr. It must be pretty cool! :00

@milk-powrit

<XD I won't lie, Bill is a fantastic villain. I just "hate" him because Stanley is my favorite character and Bill put his family through hell 💀

Most of the team: "Aww 🥰💞💞"

Gloria: "WHO ARE YOU AND HOW ARE YOU HOLDING ALL OF US UP AT ONCE"

@pink088

<XD These past 2-3 days have just hammered me health wise, but I can at least say that I've been sleeping enough!

And thanks for the check in! I wish you the best :))

(Pokemon violet comic(?))

:DD Thank you!! I'm glad you liked it!! :)))

If I ever really go into those series I would :00 But I cant remember the Godziilla movies- plus that would be really hard to draw <XDD

There's so many sonic medias that i wouldn't know which one to go by- and I've seen playthroughs of Poppy playtime but it never really grabbed my interest.. <XD

I'll do my best to keep up with all that <XDD Thank you!

(Frank butterfly post)

Oh there's no need to worry about Frank! It might be hard to tell- but that was actually a moth! Frank had bags under his eyes because he was out late studying moths :))

<XD Well considering Homes intentions are intended to be unknown- you're free to imagine that! :D

@skywillow28022

ohmygosh the third movie is so good I actually cant watch it anymore lest I burst into tears 😭😭😭💞💞💞 10/10 WOULD recommend cars 3--

Anyways- I ADORE the cars franchise and absolutely would have drawn them more.. if cars weren't so hard to draw <XD Plus my favorite thing to draw is angsty cuddles and hugs and big droopy eyes and tears- that's kiiiind'a hard to pull off if your characters are cars-

Of course I could always draw them as humans like many other artists have.. but idk, it just doesn't feel the same you know? <XD

Also thank you! I hope you day goes well too! :))

@neo-metalscottic (Welcome home post(?)) (Octonauts eye study) (Oxem and Pepemijo comic)

AAAAA Thank you sop much! :DD I'm glad you've been liking my recent posts!

As for Oxem and Pepemijo, I cant show images because of the stupid 30 images limit-- But Pepemigo is based on/inspired by the Year of the dragon mask, and Oxem is based on the current season of Duets seasonal guide mask! :00

I imagine there are other dragons out there, like that other sky dragon that I made one time-- <XDD I don't really have any ideas for their powers or their story, but I had intended that Pepemijo at least knocked the krill out in self defense. Thankfully they wont be hunted by krill following that event- Oxem got them to a safe place and he knows that he should steer clear of krill territory in the future <XD

And of course! I'd love to see any critters that you've made! :DDD

@sussyhahag

uhg, always disappointing to see.. thank you for letting me know though 😔

*VERY LOUD CARTOON BROKEN HEART SOUND* (I LOVE THISSS)

<XD yup.

Also even though that disclaimer is there for FNAF and Octonauts, I still get people harassing me anyways!.... :')

@vesselofmanythings

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! :DDD And I wish you luck on your slime rancher creative adventure!! :}}}

AAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDDD That means a lot!!! :))

@starsbee

This shouldn't have made me laugh as much as it did XDD

@wolfie-777

Oh no.... THAT MUST BE ME WELCOME HOME AU COMING BACK--

@anikakitty11

Somethin ain't right with that dog <XDD

@edelgeist (Referencing this post)

oooh :00 I wasn't aware of that- thank you for the info! Perhaps I should invest in a cooling pad <XD

I have not <:( But after googling it- I love the artstyle! :DD

[happyk44]

Coral and Percy have the best relationship between a schizoid sister and a borderline brother.

"I think I'd notice if you stopped calling me."

Percy paused from where he'd been balancing a coin on his desk to flick around. He shifted, his phone sliding off his shoulder and away from his ear until he caught it quick and pressed it back. "What?"

Coral's voice was flat on the other side. "I think I'd notice if you stopped calling." The pause was like a still breeze. Then, "I don't normally notice that kind of thing."

Because she didn't remember people unless externally prompted, Percy remembered. And even then it was only things she closely associated with the person - like books and coffee and TV shows they watched together for her mom.

He shifted in his chair, drawing his legs to his chest. Inside his heart was fluttery. A tickling wave. He grinned in spite of himself. "That's nice." He tilted his head back. "But would you call me once you noticed?"

"Probably not."

He snorted. Figures, he thought. Par for the course, but still a little disappointing. He'd call her, if he realized they hadn't spoken for a while. It was literally the reason they'd been talking for the last twenty minutes. He wasn't that attached to her but she was chronically alone. And she was his sister. And she was important. She helped him survive his way to Camp Jupiter, helped him with his powers.

(Although he could do without the feeling of wanting to explode someone into nothing but bloody paste whenever his rage spiked, but that wasn't something she exactly expected to happen when she was trying to teach him to let go of the gentle tides and embrace the raging storm)

She wasn't someone he wanted to forget and set aside like they never existed, never mattered.

"But I'd check if you were dead."

His head fell down. The coin on his desk glinted up at him. "Oh?"

"If you're not dead, I'll assume you're busy," she went on. "Or that you don't want to call me. And if you are dead, I'll visit your grave."

Back were the delightful flutters. "Will you bring flowers?"

"That's what you're supposed to do," she said.

He pressed a foot on the leg of his desk and pushed back. Rolling across the floor, he bumped into the frame of his bed. "You're also supposed to call people you like."

"But I don't have anything to talk about," she said. "Why would I call just to hang up?"

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You don't have to have something to talk about. You can just call to check in or see how things are or-" He gestured wildly with his free hand. "-to fucking just say you're still alive!" He scooted aggressively around to kick himself off the bedframe and roll backwards into his desk.

She was silent. A second ticked by, then another and another. The tense silence throttled him.

Once, during their journey to Camp Jupiter, Percy woke up sobbing from a dream he couldn't recall. Complicated feelings welled up in his throat - anger, panic, distress, fear. It was like his body remembered something volatile his amnesiac brain had thrown away. In that moment, he'd desperately wished it hadn't.

Coral woke up to his cries. She sat there for a few seconds and tried to soothe him almost robotically. Rubbing his back and murmuring, "It's okay. Everything's fine." After a couple minutes, his cries and shaking still hadn't subsided so she just. Left. Grabbed her sleeping bag and her backpack and walked off, leaving him to suffer in the dark and cold alone.

Eventually he cried himself back to sleep like a baby. When he woke up again, she was there with breakfast. He'd gotten pissed at the sight of her. The memory of her unintended rejection burned through his veins. It was like a switch snapped in his brain. Suddenly helpful friend and sister turned into callous acquaintance. He shouted at her viscerally, growing angrier and angrier as she sat there unmoving, unchanging, uncaring.

He couldn't remember what he'd screamed, but her words afterwards still rung clearly in his head. A flat "Are you done?"

He was not. But instead of screaming more, he had stormed off to go slash at some trees until the boiling simmered down. She just sat a couple hundred yards away waiting. Daydreaming. Unbothered by his destructive mood or the fact that he was clearly upset.

The switch slowly cranked back to "friend and sister" over the course of the next couple weeks, clicking back into place when she stepped in to save him from a group of monsters determined to prove his invincible skin had its limits. It was during that time, and the moments together thereafter, he pieced together that Coral wasn't good with emotion.

She followed life according to a script. Thank the bus driver. Tip your waiter. Basic things she'd learned from her mom. Things she didn't even care about, or really get the point of. Soothe your brother when he wakes up crying from an episode. Pat his back and tell him everything is fine. What someone would do for a child who skinned their knee.

But Percy's cries hadn't been from a skinned knee. There was no bandaid to place, or ointment to give. A cookie would not stop him from his blubbering.

So she simply bounced. Without a script to determine the next steps, she simply did not care enough to stick around when she wanted to sleep. Which made it kind that she helped him later on with those monsters - knowing full well they couldn't hurt him and that eventually he'd strike them all down himself.

Made it kind that she bought him food he liked in the morning after his episode, when gas station snacks were closer and cheaper to get.

The stronger an emotion was displayed, the less likely she was to deal with it. If Percy had been sniffling instead of on the very edge of screaming, she probably wouldn't have left. Whether or not she could feel the sensation herself, outward display of emotion, especially towards her, clearly made her uncomfortable.

The last time Percy had seen her in person, there'd been a minor altercation at a cafe that led to some guy screeching at her in the parking lot. Percy had boiled with anger at everything he said, his hands itching to hit back. But Coral just stared blankly. The longer she stayed quiet and empty-faced, the louder and angrier the guy got.

This guy wasn't Percy. She wasn't helping him get from point A to point B. She didn't need to stick around and listen to him scream. So after the second spike of volume and rage in the guy, she took Percy's wrist and began walking away.

Which only pissed the asshole off even more. He followed them, Coral kept walking, Percy kept wanting to do something stupid - a faint voice in his head reminding him not to be impulsive, that punching an angry douchebag would only lead to more issues.

But after the guy followed them to the edge of the parking lot, Coral simply turned on her heel and choked him where he stood with a simple look. Instantly everything in Percy turned from raging hot to ice code. The man had fallen to his knees as Coral regarded him. It wasn't even a cruel indifference. Just emptiness - like she was deciding if she wanted a toasted or untoasted bagel.

Before Percy could tell her to stop, she did it herself, turned, and carried on like nothing had happened. The silence that paraded between them then was almost the same as now. Distantly Percy knew it was all in his head - just like then Coral was simply in her own world. If she'd wanted to hang up because he got a little bit too loud, he'd be hearing the ringtone.

She could handle him being a bit too loud, a bit too vibrant. It was his Poseidon nature, she'd say. Like being quietly, and sometimes tortuously, detached was her Neptune-born way.

Still. He didn't like it. But he held his tongue and resisted the urge to say her name, the way he would've if he was talking to Grover and the line went quiet for too long.

Finally, "Do you want me to call you to tell you I'm still alive?"

"I'd appreciate it, yeah," he said. His pulse slowed with her voice.

"Okay." A pause. "I'm alive."

It was the most dry way he'd ever heard someone declare they were alive. Laughter hit him in the gut. It rolled through him, bringing a quiet quake with it, before erupting through his mouth and bouncing out into the air. Seconds later, he sagged back into his chair. Quiet giggles simmered down as he closed his eyes.

"Thanks for letting me know," he said.

"You're welcome." Pause. "How many times am I supposed to do that? My mom said once a month is fine for her, but you are." Pause. He pulled his knees to his chest again. His chin nestled between them. "Needier," she decided and he scowled, "than she is."

"I am not needy!"

"You call me a lot."

His eyes snapped open. His pulled his phone away from his face to stare at it in befuddlement. Then back to his ear to huff, "This is the second time I've called you in the last four months!"

"What's your point?"

His point? "Your mom called you way more than that!"

"She's my mom." Percy dropped his forehead to his knees, suppressing the urge to groan. "Besides, she doesn't expect me to respond. You do."

The groan broke free. Coral didn't respond to it. "Once a month is fine," he said slowly, lifting his head. "Or once every two months. Your choice. Just..." A thought hit him. "Do you even have my number?"

He knew he took hers and gave his over - but whether or not she'd put it into her phone or even listened when he told it to her was up in the air.

"Of course. I memorized it."

His back straightened. "You did?"

"Of course," she said. "I memorized my mom's and yours. What if I lose my phone and need to call you?"

But she didn't call. What she did in life never struck her as important to talk about, so his phone never rang with her waiting on the other line. And still she memorized his number. Just in case.

He tucked into himself again. "Good point."

"I'm tired of talking now," she said and he almost laughed at the straightforwardness of it.

There was a gentle pang in his chest - a nervous sensation that she was tired of him. It was a feeling he was annoyingly familiar with. Talking to Grover and hearing him give a little sigh in the middle of a conversation would strike it up. Coming home with monster guts on new clothes, his mom giving a pinched frown as she threw them in the wash. Annabeth whenever he asked her too many clarification questions during one of her planning rants.

Obviously the feeling was dumb. He knew they weren't tired of him. Maybe sometimes, but not enough to worry that they'd grow too exhausted by his presence and throw him to the curb. He'd worry anyway. He could bat the feeling off as much as he wanted but a piece always remained. Like lint. Tt was really only with Coral the feeling was easy to ball up and throw away in its entirety. If she was tired of him, she'd tell him. She was never anything but blunt and upfront.

She didn't know how not to be. Sometimes he found it a little enviable.

"Bye, Percy. I'll tell you if I'm alive in a month."

He grinned. With a warm laugh, he replied contentedly, "Looking forward to it."