#RIP my oomfs who are able to watch it

[meganechan05]

Is This a Dream or a Nightmare?

That depends on if you're asking Himeno or Rita 😂

No, but someone please explain to me why I only got 10 frames of Rita Kaniska in white and gold acting like Yuzuyan joined a takarazuka troupe and just immediately think of Alt!Rita as a playboy 🤣🤣

Hopefully the og don't meet their alternate selves or Rita would have a fcking stroke bc it'll give them Romane Dearborn flashbacks. Made worse if it ends up making their timeline's Himeno swoon.

But also: can't wait for the audience to meet Alt!Rita. I can already see the Rita and Yuzuyan stans squealing and dying from the ikemen factor alone.

[arcane-starling]

I’ve been thinking about a neverafter oc since the trailer first aired and I ALSO thought of the little match girl!! It just would fit in so well!! I know most of the stories are twisted versions of fairytales, happy stories and joyful endings changed to either be made painful or show that living is never as easy as a happily ever after, but the little match girl is a heart wrenching story all on it’s own about poverty and abuse and losing the one good thing in your life and it’s a story that would be so fun to explore in a horror setting. The little match girl found peace in death, in finally reuniting with the one person that made it all easier, and to see a story like that especially with a dm like Brennan would be so good??? Like!! You finally find peace and warmth in death, and suddenly it’s ripped away from you, you are once again cold and lonely in a terrifying world. A story where death is kinder than living.

Also just as a side note: I always imagined her as never being able to feel warmth again, yet seeking out flames anyways for the familiarity and hope they bring; always sitting as close to a fireplace or campfire as possible.

yes you totally get me anon!!! agreed on all points. it's a nice hook for a character that did get their "happy" ending (in quotation marks because dying really isn't a happy ending lmao) but is now forced to come back to the cruelty of their situation. it sets up motivation and a possible character arc where The Little Match Girl becomes pushed to act on their desperation. i mentioned in my tags that i would've made her a warlock with the matchsticks as her arcane focus or reskinned pact blade, and it further sets up the relationship between her and her patron: she is at their complete mercy, providing her the very things that she needs to stay alive at the cost of her continued servitude towards them. i also thought of the The Little Match Girl as a potential character because the original fairy tale isn't really as magical or as fantastical as the other fairy tales we're familiar with. it really is just about a little girl struggling in the freezing cold winter, trying to find the metaphorical and literal warmth to keep her alive. putting her in a world with magic and external supernatural forces acting on sinister motives would be very interesting.

i had two ideas for my little match girl. the first would be that she would've been brought back to life by the unknown patron—i really like the idea of an Undying Patron, ironic and unfortunate for her—and being forced to find a way to help her village, which had completely frozen over from the harsh winters. the second idea also involved her being brought back to life, but her patron granted her a "gift": a candle that burns terribly low, in that liminal space of almost dying out and burning brighter. she would be forced to keep that candle burning as long as she lives, or else she dies a slow, freezing death again. she would've become extremely paranoid and protective of the flame in this second one, hostile to others who dared to even get close to her thinking that they were trying to take her only source of warmth away. someone in the replies of the original post suggested to have her as a Reborn (a slay honestly thank u so much @ oomf) and i envisioned her as a pale little girl, a layer of ice crusted over her face and body. always cold, always shivering, always lighting up a matchstick and cupping her hands over it like a well-practiced ritual. absolutely tragic.

thank you for indulging me, anon! i hope you and i have a blast watching the rest of neverafter <3

[ssunsxt]

A monologue from a sad red unicorn

“I remember vividly— almost painfully— every detail about that night at Canterlot High School. I remember the way the dry air tasted on my tongue. I remember the way I thumbed at my fingers, trying my best to fight away the cracked skin that spread up my hands and into my palms. I remember the itch at the back of my neck. At the side of my head. On my thigh, just above my knee. I remember the way my pleather boots hugged my calves— not quite chafing, but not quite not chafing.

“I remember how it felt to grin at the anguished faces of Princess Twilight and her friends. I remember how smug I was, the butterflies bubbling in my chest at the thought of winning, as I hoisted my sledgehammer high above my head. I remember how it nipped at my hands, my muscles only sort-of groaning under the weight. I’d lifted heavier, that was for sure; but it had been a while since I’d done any particularly heavy-lifting. I usually left that to Snips and Snails. 

“Being in the human world for that long had been… exhausting, in more ways than one. Being alone most of the time, it wasn’t somewhere I tried to be exponentially engaged. I didn’t exactly have “friends”. I had Flash and his band. Everyone else was just… fodder. They were scared of me, and that’s how I liked things. Intimacy meant a severe lack of privacy; and I had more than enough skeletons in my closet that I didn’t need or want people to go snooping around for. 

“Academics was a way to keep me occupied. I was the prized pupil of an eternal being, of course. Basic mathematics was nothing compared to the scientific trajectory of how a Unicorn Princess managed to raise the sun and moon. That being said, physics was always one of my favorite subjects. Regardless, we’re getting off-topic.

“I remember the way my stomach churned and twisted, seeing how whole-heartedly Twilight’s friends put their belief and faith in her. Despite my threats, she didn’t falter. She didn’t show any weakness. It made me feel… Obsolete.

“There I was trying to prove that I was better than her, in every way. Trying to prove that Celestia made a mistake by replacing me. It made me realise that I was the one who made a mistake. I was the one who was wrong. It made five years of sacrifices boil up inside me. What was all of this for if I had been wrong? Where could I go from here, now that Twilight hadn’t taken my bait. Without the crown; her element; without magic how would I ever be anything to anyone-- nevermind Celestia…

“I remember all of it… The pain and the anxiety. The way my anger festered and exploded.

“Most clearly, though, what I remember most is the burning. The searing heat that ripped my flesh from bone; twisting and contorting it into skin that wasn’t quite my own. I remember the hollowing cracks that spread through my spine as large wings pushed and tore at my back— from the inside out— until they flapped to life like a crooked heartbeat.

“I remember the way my nails ripped at their buds. The way my fingers stretched and creaked into place. The way fire and brimstone gave birth to a demon that had been locked inside the cage I called ribs. 

“Then I was the one trapped; forced to watch on as she—… as I crushed the foundations of concrete and support beams, tossing the rubble aside like a common piece of garbage. I remember the feeling. The absolute elation upon hearing the cacophony of screams, overlapping each other like some dystopian symphony. It was music to my ears. 

“I remember the ash. The asphalt. The salted tears that could only lick from my chapped lips as the rest of my flesh bubbled, begging for me to stop. Begging to just let go. Begging— please, oh please, let there be another way for this to end.

“I remember the light. Unlike before, it didn’t burn. There was a warmth to it, sure, but it was… softer. Safer. I felt like everything was going to be okay. That if I just succumbed to it, everything would be taken care of. That things wouldn’t be so hard anymore. That I could just… sleep, and it would all just feel like a bad dream. That’s right. It was all just some horrible nightmare that I would wake up from, and find Princess Celestia there, by my bedside, ready to tell me that everything was going to be okay. That I was okay. That we were okay. 

“But things… aren’t like how they are in fairytales; even in Equestria.

“I remember how it smelled. Burning concrete and flesh wouldn’t make a very good scented candle, I can tell you that right away. 

“I remember every ragged breath that forced its way out of my battered, scorched body. Under the pain and the helplessness… Behind all of my ambitious facade of elitism… I was just scared. I was a scared little girl who came here from another world, running away from my problems because I didn’t want to live with the regret of what I had done.

“I chose to push that responsibility and that blame onto Princess Celestia. She was my teacher, so if I had made a mistake, it was because of her ill-guidance, not because I had done anything wrong—”

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.

“Oh— My apologies Miss Shimmer,” The older woman frowned, checking the time on her wrist. Sunset looked up from her hands as she wrung them, pressing her thumb into her palm as she blinked in her direction. Sunset swallowed thickly and smoothed down the hair at the back of her head before tucking a stray ringlet of red hair behind her ear. I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for this week,” Sunset’s counselor noted, scribbling a few comments down on her clipboard before giving the younger girl another sympathetic smile.

“Oh, uhm,” Sunset fumbled, wiping her hands off on her jeans as she rose from her seat, “that’s okay.”

“It’s nice to see you finally opening up about things though. This is what, our third session so far?” She offered a polite chuckle. Sunset forced a curt smile in response. “Well, I’m glad to see you’re looking a little brighter. Those new friends of yours must be starting to rub off on you, hm?”

Sunset wordlessly collected her backpack from beside the woman’s desk and adjusted the hood of her sweater as she slung the strap over her shoulder. Her only responses to the counsellor’s questions came in the form of hums and grunts. She knew this was just routine. She shook her head and jammed her hands into her front pocket. 

The elder woman sat at her desk, falling comfortably into her black swivel chair with a satisfied “Oomf” before twirling round to collect a small card from a pile of identical sheets of paper. “Same time next week? Or is Mr Crankydoodle going to chew your head off for missing another one of his poetics lessons?” the counselor laughed at her own joke. Sunset forced herself to laugh along, more-so out of pity than anything else.

“Uh, yeah. Same time should be fine. I have English with Rarity-- uhm, one of my friends-- so she should be able to keep me up to speed.” She paced over to the counselor's outstretched hand for her appointment card, yet the woman held it firm, fixing Sunset with a stern gaze. 

“You’re making progress, Sunset,” she spoke, “remember that. It isn’t easy opening up about things-- especially the sorts of things you’ve been through. But please, come to me if you ever feel like things are getting too much. It’s my job to make your life that little bit easier. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“Right,” She flashed a wide smile, tugging the card from between the older woman’s fingers before turning on her heel to leave the room. “Well, uh,” Sunset paused in the doorway, half-opening the door, “Thanks. I’ll see you next week?”

“See you next week, Sunset.”

“Right. Well. Uhm. Bye.”

“Goodbye, Sunset.”