#character study🕯

[typingfool]

A Thief's Only Enemy

(BASED ON OPLA!Nami) cross-posted on ao3 !!

Nami, the trees whisper. Its tangerine drops against the soil like a ripple in the sea. She remembers the wind passing by the orchard, the dots of tangerines in the horizon, the smell of citrus making every air she breathed worthed and sour. 

Her tongue catches the taste. Her words become citrus. 

Once and now, the trees would whisper her name. Nami, Nami, Nami— our daughter, look at the curiosity—She doesn’t know what that means. Quite frankly, Nami doesn’t recall a memory that whispered her name the way the tangerine trees would. She couldn’t remember what it had meant, what it had sounded like. She couldn’t remember the significance of names. Of course, the significance of names other than Mom, and Nojiko. 

Nojiko, who is her sister, (who isn’t her sister), whose skin reaches more than a tree’s roots, underneath the soil, nurturing and caring. Who had held her, who squeezed her tighter, closer, protectively when Belle-Mere had found them. 

Then, there was her mother, oh, sweet mother. Who had said “I just knew” undoubtedly, who had been the first one to answer her questions truthfully, who had left her knowing that she and Nojiko were loved. 

(This is what life first stole: her name. It is buried until Nojiko and Belle-Mere latches themselves in her heart. They make a home there. They pump her blood and provide for her. This is what life first stole: when the home is in flames and the trees rots—when her mother fell with her skull-cracked, blood spilling between the gaps of wood, the soil carries her sacrifice. The village carries her body, they dig beside a wide tree of tangerines, they place her there. She is buried there. With a piece of Nami and Nojiko ever-beating love for each other.)

You are my daughters, I will not deny that. Nami remembers, she remembers many things. She remembers Arlong’s stupid gun, his stupid smile. She remembers Nojiko’s spiteful look when she left with Arlong. She remembers the way her sister’s blue hair reflected the emotions she felt. 

(This is what Nami stole from herself: the tranquillity and war of sisterhood. She thought of the consequences because her mother had told them to be as strong as boys, and that, if they survived, good times will come. Nami knew—you see, she was a thief, then and now, thievery is mixed up with trickery—that her village would not survive Arlong’s grasp. He is a fishmen, no human in their village could deny that they were scarred with his ever-growing laughter the moment he claimed them. This is what Nami stole from herself, and what she would take back: sisterhood.)

Nojiko’s hair never went past its original length, she still looks like her sister: Nami’s sister. 

Arlong’s tattoo says otherwise. She would breathe in, her hands were bruised from labour. She used to love the lines that curve to make the islands, cartography offered newness other than the mundane shackles around her once soil-covered ankles. Nesh tears pickled her citrus-covered face, her hair would be dried. She would hug her chest, carry the weight of the knowledge she possessed. 

(This is what life stole from her: freedom. The ability to breathe the citrus air, or the raw wind against her skin. Of course, Nami would grow out those shackles, she knew, her mother had told her and Nojiko that their bodies were not meant to stay in this shape. She had known that she would not stay in this vessel of a tiny girl. Yet, she could not bring herself to hope. To hope that she would live one. This is what life stole from her: freedom. The freedom to make friends. The freedom to have ridiculous hope). 

Nami grew. She had to. For Coco Village. For Nojiko. For her mother. She had to. She learned how to keep her hair the same shape, she learned to observe the sky while slipping berries out of a stranger’s pockets. She learned the meaning of her name from a stolen book, how reflecting her eyes could be in the ocean. 

(This is what Nami stole from herself: a life surrounded with fishmen that would go after her, wherever she went. And she had all but herself to blame, the moment her foot made contact with the wooden floor, the moment she had blurted out that she wanted to join. This is what Nami stole from herself, and what she thinks she would never get back: a life she calls her own.) 

(my thoughts are always on the tags!!) ♡ PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG TO SUPPORT ME.

[umbratheshadowfamiliar]

One thing I find incredibly interesting about ZSakuVA and his series 'The Nobel Trials' is actually the character of the listener.

And I know you all are thinking:

"Umbra... It is a self insert listener..."

But just hear me out.

Zaros, as a very far leftist, embodies most of the beliefs that I hold true in my day to day existence. About opening everything to the public and providing better education, healthcare, food ect to all.

But the thing is we aren't Zaros we are essentially elon musk's kid. Granted the listener's mother does seem very kind but that kind of wealth and the established listener's character makes them seem unnaturally callous. Which quite frankly they are.

But that's no fun to me.

So instead I have been coming up with the most petty and slightly devil's advocate counterarguments to every single claim that Zaros is making about this listener. Also as well as considering why the listener acts the way they do. I plan on making this in a list because I find this so entertaining. It will probably be called something like #Zaros' listener's character study.

This post I'm mainly use as a PSA to say that this is merely a character analysis. Zaros, while he does have his flaws, I objectivly agree with politically so far in the series (Ep 2). This is all a bit of banter and I hope you all can enjoy as much as I do!

Umbra 🕯

[thelittlestspider]

writing ask game: emoji edition

🐁 - does your oc have any pets?

📚 - what do they like to read?

📼 - what do they like to watch?

🤡 - what's something silly your oc has done?

💖 - does your oc have a love interest or a platonic life partner?

🧄 - do they have any favorite foods?

🔮 - where did your oc think they would end up? are they better off or worse off than they thought they would be?

🎣 - what do they like to do in their spare time?

🕯 - is there a person they've lost?

👡 - what do they like to wear?

🚬 - what are their vices?

🩻 - do they have any medical problems?

📀 - what songs would they listen to? do they like music?

📝 - is your oc in school? do they like school? what are they studying?

��� - what would your character do if faced with an evil doppelganger? would they run away, fight? is the doppelganger a reflection of their inner fears?

[ill-try-to-do-book-reviews]

Our Wives Under The Sea

Julia Armfield

Rating: 🕯🕯🕯🕯🔥 (4.5/5)

Our Wives Under The Sea is a slow but sure dive into thallasophobia, body horror, and, surprisingly, grief. Though it is a horror novel, it deals with the grief of losing a loved one, and more strongly, with the grief of mourning someone who is not dead. This book is, in my opinion, the quintisential "came back wrong" trope, executed marvelously well.

SUMMARY: Miri thinks she has got her wife back, when Leah finally returns after a deep sea mission that ended in catastrophe. But It soon becomes clear that Leah may have come back wrong. Whatever happened in that vessel, whatever it was they were supposed to be studying before they were stranded on the ocean floor, Leah has carried part of it with her, onto dry land and into their home.

Memories of what they had before – the jokes they shared, the films they watched, all the small things that made Leah hers – only remind Miri of what she stands to lose. Living in the same space but suddenly separate, Miri comes to realize that the life that they had might be gone.

MY DETAILED REVIEW (SPOILER WARNING):

This story was difficult to get into. It was a slow start and I admit I had to dredge through the first few chapters.

However.

The slow start ends up giving the book a "frog in the pot" effect. By the time you're aware of what's really happening, you're already completely invested. By the time that Jelka starts losing her mind, the horror of Leah's and crew's situation really settles into your bones, you've already become enthralled, already curled up under the blankets at 3am soaking up every single word, and truthfully, you couldn't even pinpoint when you got so invested or what got you so hooked to begin with.

Leah and Miri's relationship is seen in two parts: flashbacks of the past and horrors of the present. Miri frequently recalls the beginning of their long-standing relationship through the duration of their current deterioration. Pamela, the time she saw Leah off and a fellow wife was surprised she didn't know Flat Stanley, the time she saw her off for the last time, meeting Jelka briefly and feelibg that nothing was wrong.

Interspersed among these flashbacks are glimpses into Leah and Miri's present, as Miri desperately tries to get in contact with the evasive corporation that had sent her wife to her doom, as Leah shifted and changed into something Miri no longer recognised, bleeding from her pores and gums, losing weight and spending increasingly more time in the bathroom.

At some point in your read-through, long after you're already neck deep in the story, you - and the characters - begin to question if their descent was actually an accident. By this point, though, Jelka is already long gone.

Jelka's death is very sudden and isn't made into a big deal during or after its reveal. The shock of someone having committed suicide via deep sea pressure never really hits our characters - which, while a little frustrating, serves the story well, in my opinion. They've been down here for months, isolated, alone, with literally no signs of any other life, despite how densely populated the ocean is known to be. Jelka had begin losing herself long before and one can only imagine how desensitised you would become in that situation. It also goes to show just how soon Leah and Matteo's transformation begins; they haven't even seen the eye yet before their humanity begins to slip.

Another thing that is never fully addressed, and honestly is kind of just dropped, is whether or not The Centre actually did intentionally drop them, leave them for 6 months, and then bring them back, or if it actually was a freak accident. It is heavily implied that this was intentional, and truthfully the fact that it is only ever implied wouldn't bother me so much were it not for The Centre just completely erasing itself from the face of the earth seemingly overnight.

To my understanding, The Centre is a megacorp of sea exploration; brand new and the first of its kind. Enigmatic, but really, all corporations are. Miri is able to contact them throughout the duration of the story, up until Leah's changes become undeniably apparent, at which point they somehow know to pack up shop and snap themselves away.

It could be argued that the therapist was involved in reporting, but unless they had kept Matteo, how would they have known something was going to go wrong to the point of asking the therapist to report back to begin with?

Also, what happened to Matteo? They resurfaced together and then were never brought up again, ever. I don't know, the Matteo thing just didn't sit right with me I guess.

My final issue is what the hell does Leah become? Obviously some sort of deep-sea creature, but what? Or does she just become a fish? Also what prompts this physical transformation? Presumably the giant Eldritch octopus they made eye contact with has something to do with it, but what exactly was never really clear to me.

I will say, though, Leah's last thought before resurfacing being Miri, and wanting to get back to her wife, was a special kind of devastating.

I hope Leah is happy out there in the ocean and I hope Miri makes a home out of her dead mother's house. I hope they visit each other often.

All in all, despite the questions I was left with, Our Wives Under The Sea turned out to be a fascinating and captivating read. I think it is 100% worth an initial read-through, but I doubt I will be reading it again.

[sweetmage]

🕯Her Will Be Done (Ao3)🕯

Rating: T

Word Count: 7,077

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Abdirak, Original Female Characters, Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach

Relationships: Abdirak & Original Female Characters, Background Astarion/Abdirak

Tags: Side Story, Tav!Abdirak, Verbal Abuse, Blood and Injury, Religious Conflict, Character Study

After being summoned by his Loviatan superior Truescar Ora, Abdirak, now faced with lingering doubts that could spell his ruin, must face the reality that he is no longer the same man he was when he last stood before her while contending with the impossible task she has placed upon his shoulders.

~~~ This is a side story that fits into my Tav!Abdirak playthrough and serves as his "personal quest" of sorts. It takes place near the beginning of act 3.

___ Decided not to leave this as just the start of personal quest, this is a multichapter now ✨ He will see this task through one way or another!

[kiwiana-writes]

💝🕯🧿 for the writer asks!

Ooooh we love a multi-question, thanks pal!

💝 what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

This is a FANTASTIC question!

I rage-wrote a part-character study, part-alternate ending after watching Happiest Season that, to this day, is the most-kudosed fic in the Happiest Season tag. It's definitely 'got in early' effect and it not having a ton of fics but that is still a piece of information that blows my mind a little bit every time I remember it 😅

The response to the RWRB Much Ado actor AU was far beyond anything I could have anticipated, honestly. Like, I knew people would like it for sure, I wasn't expecting it to languish or anything, but it absolutely blew past my most popular Schitt's Creek fic for kudos/comments/bookmarks, like, the day after it was complete. It hit a ridiculous kudos milestone that took SC angstapalooza almost three years to achieve. There was a lot of just kind of... staring in bafflement at my stats page for a while that day lol.

For Schitt's Creek, the Patrick as a Hallmark greeting card writer fic is second only to angstapalooza for kudos, which also remains wild to me. I wrote that thing in like three hours because @midnightstreet posted a cute pic of queer greeting cards and, like, my hand slipped. Don't get me wrong, it's a cute fic, but every time I remember it's THAT high up I'm like ???

In terms of fics that maybe didn't do as well as I would have thought... honestly, when I take a scroll through my stats page it's sort of expected. All the low stuff is wlw or gen fic, or the more out there pairings, stuff where I dip my toe into polyam-adjacent things, etc. (And, of course, the podfics. Send love to your podficcers, folks!)

🕯️ was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn’t think it would take you?

Answered here!

🧿 what steps do you take to not take things personally if a fic doesn’t do well, or if your writing/posting/sharing experience isn’t going how you’d like it to?

Woof, this is a tough question because like. My brain is a hellscape lol. The (mostly) unserious process is: I whine at @celeritas2997 and @ships-to-sail about how I'm Quitting Writing Forever and they tell me to suck it the fuck up and usually I'm writing again within, like, 24 hours.

[Let’s Get REAL fic writer asks]

[new-royston-cursebreakers]

NRCB's Writeblr Intro!

Hey all! My name’s Rene and it’s about time I actually introduced myself, huh?

I’m a transgender, neurodivergent writer from the Metro-Detroit area. I love writing fantasy, slipstream, magical realism, and poetry, and I love reading those same genres (if your story has dragons, giants, and/or bug-based characters/races, hmu!) I tend to world build a lot, then pants a plot that takes place in that world. I’m always interested in being tagged in tag games, and if you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

You’ll find my stories chock full of:

queer relationships between men

rampant optimism

ridiculous concepts taken seriously

questions about religion, purpose, existence, etc.

character-specific motifs

dramatic irony

mild horror

My interests include:

writing, of course! Ooh, and editing!

video games (LoZ, Terraria, Bully, SDV, Subnautica, FF1, 6, and 9 just to name a few of my favorites!)

tarot

religious studies

roleplaying

beading

making playlists/moodboards/anything about my characters!

Stuff about WIPs under the cut!

The Curse of New Royston

Main tag - wip: tconr

Current status: editing. again

Within the borders of the town of New Royston, Connecticut, one’s net worth proportionally affects their physical size. Sometime in the early 2000s, high school sophomore Gio Violett, a 20-foot-tall giant recently recovering from a near-death experience, meets Cricket Collins, an 11-inch-tall freshman who’s been living on his own since his parents left town with the intent to save up enough money to bring him with them. Together, the two of them resolve to try to break the spell over New Royston, but a variety of adversaries, from supernatural forces to the town’s political machines, stand in their way.

Pitch

Comic Sans PowerPoint

TCoNR Tag Masterlist (links lead to their intros)

waterlogged curseling 🌊 (Gio)

held in darkness 🦗 (Cricket)

self-appointed guardian 🍓 (Fletcher)

fear-laden medium 📒 (Eneas)

avoidant sleuth 🪡 (Caelan)

remedy provider 🕯 (Auster)

of two worlds 🌸 (Cameron)

ice-eyed warden 👑 (Theodore)

boundless learner 📖 (Margaret)

regretful fugitive 🎓 (Lionel)

the kindest soul 🩸 (Darryl)

TCoNR Short Stories

Flowerbed (2000 words - Fletcher, in his hour of need, meets the heir to the Violett legacy)

Oracle of the Stained Glass Windows

Main tag - wip: ootsgw

Current status: on the back-burner

Kilroy, a pacifist hippalektryon, lives with his herd in the area around the Oracle, a great stone hall of unknown origin that magically shifts itself to create wondrous stained glass windows dyed with different types of magic. Kilroy himself is featured in one of these windows jamming his horn into the gut of some unknown, pitch-black creature. One day, an attempt from Kilroy to avoid his violent, prophesied fate goes wrong just as he runs straight into Mar, the creature from the window. Mar helps heal Kilroy’s injury and Kilroy, shocked by his would-be adversary’s kindness, vows to find a way to avoid their mutually-destructive destiny.

OotSGW Tag Masterlist

two-toned warhorse 🪽 (Kilroy)

wayward academic 💥 (Mar)

The Sun and the Craftsman 

You can read it @the-sun-and-the-craftsman!

Main tag - wip: tsatc 

Current status: working on first draft 

Darius had been one of many ordinary people pulled into Ashur’s world from his own—and at the nick of time. The portal had been his only way out from the law after exacting revenge on his parents’ murderer. But Ashur’s world wasn’t exactly a paradise either. 

Faced with the threat of being sent back to the exact moment of his capture, Darius must find a way to get along with the ruler of this world—a powerful, god-like entity with an affinity for scorching sunlight, an insatiable hunger, and a magical mastery over flesh. And Ashur, in turn, must find a way to co-exist with this stubborn human who joins the long line of mortals who have attempted to truly understand him.

TSatC Tag Masterlist 

sun-touched ☀️ (Ashur)

dual justice 🧥 (Darius)

stars below 🌠 (James)

Unnamed Time Traveler WIP

Main tag - wip: ttwip

Current status: working on first draft

Neor is a talented mage. Sent from her hometown of Dunevale to the continent's only Mages' Guild, she finds herself disillusioned at how segmented and rigid their structure seems to be. So when the greatest living mage, Archmage Sacha, says that magic doesn't have any clear borders like the Guild's, Neor jumps at the chance to follow and learn from her.

But a spell gone wrong—or right—ends up sending Neor to a distant and bleak age. Now, her only companion is Vultarne, a ruthless, violent mage who brought the world to its knees and would've killed Neor if her spell had not protected her. Now Neor has to figure out why she was able to cast this spell when Sacha couldn't, and what she can do to make this broken world a better place.

[blindmagdalena]

Writer asks 🕯💞 please!

first one answered here!

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

characters definitely come first for me. i think the majority of my work tends to be fairly light on plot and focuses more on... character study, I suppose? very rarely do I write anything with external motivators driving the story. world building is definitely important to me as well, though! I pride myself on a certain level of immersion and I think a crucial aspect of that is respecting established laws of whatever universe you're writing for. it helps me ground how the characters are behaving, and keeps the stakes consistent.

[fayesdiary]

🕯 💝💥for the fic writer ask if its not too late!

Speak Your Language Day Asks 🇮🇹

🕯️was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

Se posso parlare al presente, è Rinea Survives Act 5. Tentare di scrivere quella fic è una sofferenza e non so perchè visto che ci tengo un sacco!

Per fic che ho già scritto, mi ricordo di aver fatto fatica a scrivere Nuibaba's Risen Journal, ma ne è valsa assolutamente la pena per quella.

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Barbecue of Belhalla!

Pensavo non se la sarebbe cagata nessuno e invece è la mia fic più popolare 😅

Il che ammetto, considerando quanto poco ci ho messo a scriverla e quanto più impegno e passione ci ho messo nel resto delle mie storie, è un po' deprimente

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

Oh hey, è Nuibaba's Risen Journal e Valentian Reports ad 8 kudos entrambi😂

Sono le mie fic preferite che ho scritto!

La prima perchè è un deep dive di un microscopico dettaglio dal quale è scaturita un'intera storia piena di headcanon sui Risen e praticamente un character study su un personaggio che non ho mai filato di striscio fino a quel momento, e Valentian Reports è la mia prima fic di più capitoli che ho finito ed è uno studio gigantesco di caratterizzzione dove ho scritto delle entry dal punto di vista di ogni singolo personaggio in Echoes.

Diciamo che apprezzerei se più gente le avesse notate😅

[seasaltmemories]

For the ask meme, 🌈 🤍🕯:)

is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

A Martyr for My Love for You is a pretty basic hurt/comfort fic, but bc it was written for a zine, I was having to make sure I hit a strict wordcount and so there was a lot of attention paid to trying to be concise without messing with the pacing or my general style

what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

For the most part i think I cultivate an audience that will like what I put down, but Pretty Lies and Their Brutal Truths evolved in real time so I am sympathetic to ppl who were not prepared for what it became

But surprise it is not a hit piece of Celica, I had a reader early on call her a bitch and so my first instinct was "okay let me make it clear why she has every right to worry" and that is why PLBT!Alm is so terrible

But it isn't a hit piece of him or the two of them together either, I just wanted a space to explore all the dark fantasy ideas bubbling under the surface of Echoes, part of the reason I go so far is ppl tend to classify certain actions as "evil" to the point on a monster could do them, and so I wanted to show through like cultural ideas about power and influence ppl with the best of intentions can do monstrous things

was there a fic that was really hard on you to write, or took you to a place you didn't think it would take you?

The Greater Good is a much more political fic than usual for me. I'm much more a character gal, so I took a non-chronological order which was probably more work that necessary, also intended for the Mercedes/Ferdinand thread to be more romantic but it ended up mostly platonic as a weird three way character study for Edelgard, Ferdinand, and Mercedes

[neroli9]

☟☜☹☹⚐ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟☜ ⚐❄☟☜☼ 💧✋👎☜

✋ 💣🕆💧❄🕯✞☜ 👍✌☹☹☜👎 ✌ ❄☟⚐🕆💧✌☠👎 ❄✋💣☜💧

Reader, Sasha, Jerren, Frisk and Asriel crowd around to squint at the message. "It's probably him acting like he's clever," Sasha says scowling at Jerren.

"I'm as baffled as you are," he says, putting his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

"Which symbol shows up most often?" Reader says, studying it. "Maybe it's just a character substitution..."

"And if it is, the most common one is probably E!" Sasha picks up her sister's train of thought, bending her head over the message and studying it. "Everyone who knows anything about cryptography knows that."

"There's a lot of snowflakes," Frisk observes. "And fingers pointing left."

"Five snowflakes, seven fingers," Asriel adds.

"So if we assume fingers is E..."

☟E☹☹⚐ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟E ⚐❄☟E☼ 💧✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆💧❄🕯✞E 👍✌☹☹E👎 ✌ ❄☟⚐🕆💧✌☠👎 ❄✋💣E💧

"'The' is the most common English word," Sasha continues. "If we assume the three-letter word ending in E is 'the,' then..."

HE☹☹⚐ ☞☼⚐💣 THE ⚐THE☼ 💧✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆💧T🕯✞E 👍✌☹☹E👎 ✌ TH⚐🕆💧✌☠👎 T✋💣E💧

"Clear as mud," Reader says, shaking her head.

"No, we can get it!" Sasha says, starting to get excited. "Not ALL of us are hopeless at Scrabble."

"I am not hopeless at Scrabble! I won $10,000 in a game of Scrabble with Sans once." She pauses. "Well, technically I lost." But she's already lost her sister's attention.

"I think 'HE☹☹⚐' is the key," Sasha continues, tracing her finger over the letters and symbols. "How many five-letter words can there be that start with HE and have a double letter?"

"Hello," Asriel says. "Plus, it makes sense, if it's some sort of greeting."

"I can't even think of any other words that fit," Frisk says.

"Henna," Jerren says smugly. "Hella."

"No one asked you," Sasha says, scowling as she writes down the letters.

"'Hella' isn't even period-appropriate," Reader says, scowling as well.

"Since when has anyone in this story cared about being period-appropriate?" But the others are ignoring him.

HELLO ☞☼O💣 THE OTHE☼ 💧✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆💧T🕯✞E 👍✌LLE👎 ✌ THO🕆💧✌☠👎 T✋💣E💧

"That gives us another word immediately," Sasha says, filling it in.

HELLO ☞RO💣 THE OTHER 💧✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆💧T🕯✞E 👍✌LLE👎 ✌ THO🕆💧✌☠👎 T✋💣E💧

"'A' is the second most common letter," Asriel says. "What if we assume the water drops are A?" Sasha starts rewriting.

HELLO ☞RO💣 THE OTHER A✋👎E

✋ 💣🕆AT🕯✞E 👍✌LLE👎 ✌ THO🕆A✌☠👎 T✋💣EA

"I bet we can figure the second word out," Reader says, trailing her finger over it. "Hello something the other something, middle letters are RO. 'From'?"

Sasha nods excitedly as she starts adding the new letters. "Nothing else fits."

HELLO FROM THE OTHER A✋👎E

✋ M🕆AT🕯✞E 👍✌LLE👎 ✌ THO🕆A✌☠👎 T✋MEA

"Hello from the other acre?" she says, frowning at the code.

"Axle?" Frisk suggests.

"Ache?" Asriel says.

"Arse?" Jerren adds.

"Shut up," Reader says. "Acne?"

"I mean, acne isn't much better than arse," Sasha points out.

"It could be a code name," Reader says, pressing her lips together.

"They really got unlucky when the code names were passed out," Asriel says, grinning.

All five of them stare at the message.

"Where's Sans? He's supposed to be so brilliant," Sasha says suddenly.

But none of them can find him.

(I'm not doing any more Wingdings coded messages so don't send them, but I did enjoy it! If you haven't figured it out, use the translator. https://lingojam.com/WingdingsTranslator)

[truearchangel]

🕯

@diistortion HOTEL RESIDENT OBSERVATIONS.

   THERE’S A CLIPBOARD in his hand, several papers attached to it, and Michael tries to make himself as small as possible when just observing a standard day in the Hazbin Hotel. He tries his best to not allow any previous interactions with any of them to affect his study, and today’s character of choice was the Radio Demon. He’d already asked around a few people about him, and notes on their particular thoughts or comments on his routine were noted on the paper to the side. He does not allow them to influence him either. 

   Alastor is a curious person. 

   His power is–different to put it kindly. The magic itself is green in color, which isn’t entirely strange but he had thought it would be red? With how much of it the demon wears, anyway. Green fit him too, it wasn’t an entirely terrible choice to go with him. This mark was small, a question mark surrounding it as he tried to decide just what Alastor’s power was. Eldritch clearly, but that was more a category in Heaven rather than a straight definition of a power. There are different kinds of Eldritch demons.

   Next, he notes, Alastor doesn’t eat breakfast with the rest of them. At first he was confused, and then he simply nodded and made a mark. Cannibal. Maybe sometimes he degrades himself to eating the food that’s prepared, which today was pancakes, but if he was going to drag a corpse onto his dining table, gut and eat it? He would do that in the privacy of his own room too. Not that he ever wants to think about gutting and eating a corpse himself ever again. 

   A side note on his own thoughts was added at that now.

   The Radio Demon appears sometime shortly after that, once the kitchen was cleaned and Charlie was bouncing out the door to go do something for the hotel. A comment about passing out gifts to lure people in? He thinks that is a terrible idea, his opinion was not asked. Alastor apparently had an Overlord Meeting today and he made a note to ask next time if he could attend with him. Only out of curiosity, he had no reason to actually be there, it doesn’t benefit his study. He’s without his company for one hour. 

   One. Hour. 

   How did he get into this mess? 

   Really, honestly, he’s only here to observe. But only ten minutes after Alastor had left the hotel, Charlie and her angel girlfriend in town, apparently it became open season on the hotel? There wasn’t even knocking, someone straight up open fired on the building. Whatever remained of his soul had left right there and Michael had a bullet lodged in his shoulder. That, apparently, was all it really took to piss him off. 

   He will give the bartender this (Husk he had marked his name down as), he was a decent fighter. He moved well around Michael, avoiding losing his head to the angelic sword that was swung past him and using those strange cards as his. They had the entire situation cleaned up within half an hour and these types of bullets really don’t affect Michael. He will have to dig it out of his shoulder if he intends on healing. 

   By the time Alastor got back he had found his clipboard amongst the mess, covered in demonic blood and the pages entirely ruined. He made a disappointed face at it and sighed in frustration, lifting his head to the curly haired demon. 

   “One hour. One hour! What are you? Some magical deterrent to criminals? They genuinely fear you, don’t they? How many stalkers do you have that they know the moment you leave the hotel?”

He'll admit it; the Radio Demon is begrudgingly impressive. It takes a lot to form a reputation like that. He's fairly certain Alastor's continued existance here is vital to the survival of the Hazbin Hotel.

[ocintrojectconfessions]

I feel the need to explain my source's story a tiny bit. So, it begins fairly normally with my mother self-inserting themself into the story and having an adopted daughter because they felt like it. And the story is fairly the same except for a few altered moments in the side quests, most noticably with my parent Floofty. Then they all go back to the mainland and live in Filbo's house until the snakification wore off. My mother and parent moved in together, they had clone children, and I was the youngest. My oldest sister, who was on Snaktooth as well, eventually decided she felt bad for leaving Eggabell and Lizbert on Snaktooth and took Mother's ship back to Snaktooth and I snuck along on board. By the time she figured out, it was too late to turn around. When I was on Snaktooth, I was fascinated and wanted to study it. But we quickly got Liz and Eggabell back and went back home. And, our host had a fascination with ghosts and gave characters they liked the most the ability to see ghosts, and I was one of them. Going to Snaktooth Island is how I found out I was actually seeing ghosts and not just having hallucinations, and then from there, the story devolves to focus on me and going on supernatural adventures. It's a bit funny how disconnected my story is from the game I'm technically from. My mother has described me as "Fanchild with paranormal abilities that just took her own story," which is a much more concise way of saying what I just did. - Flurry Fizzlespace, #🔮🕯🔎

.

[sweetmage]

🕯Her Will Be Done (Ao3)🕯

Rating: T

Word Count: 4788

Characters: Abdirak, Ora Maius (original character), Astarion, Shadowheart, Karlach

Relationships: Abdirak & Ora Maius, Background Astarion/Abdirak

Tags: Side Story, Tav!Abdirak, Verbal Abuse, Blood and Injury, Religious Conflict, Character Study

Summary: After being summoned by his Loviatan superior Truescar Ora, Abdirak, now faced with lingering doubts that could spell his ruin, must face the reality that he is no longer the same man he was when he last stood before her.

~~~

This is a side story that fits into my Tav!Abdirak playthrough and serves as the start of his "personal quest" of sorts. It takes place near the beginning of act 3.

[atthebell-moved]

💡🕯 (for ask game)

💡- What’s a idea you’ve enjoyed but never/couldn’t write?

Hmmmmm i sometimes enjoy fix-it fics (not typically for dsmp fic but esp for like. The Untamed) but i could never write one i would have to like. Idk i like writing character studies or inserting scenes, I'm not that big myself on rewriting canon, but i do enjoy reading it at times.

🕯 - Share a scene in your latest WIP

From the next chapter of m4m (for extra context m4m!Wilbur is originally Polish):

They're curled up in Wilbur's flat, Quackity sat on the couch while Wilbur sits between his legs on the floor, facing away from him with Quackity's wrist in his mouth. Quackity reads a book while Wilbur drinks and then combs his hand through Wilbur's hair once he's done. The vampire sighs and sits back against him, soft and sleepy.

"Gon' fall asleep, Quackity," he slurs into Quackity's arm.

"Okay, okay, hold on."

He moves to wrangle Wilbur's limbs and then carry him to bed, finally used to gathering up the gangly man into a manageable puddle, but in a poof the man is gone and instead a little purring bat is in his lap. He cautiously pets at the creature's fur before lifting him up and carrying him to the perch in Wilbur's bedroom. The bat barely moves, purring and making little chirping sounds as Quackity holds him.

Quackity himself sits down with his book again, looking up every few moments to check that Wilbur is sleeping alright. Aside from a few twitches he’s fast asleep, completely conked out. Quackity himself drifts off, letting his book slip through his fingers down onto the carpet.

When Quackity wakes up, there's a heavy weight on his chest, making it evident that Wilbur woke up in his lanky humanoid form and felt cuddly.

"Wilb'r? What time is it?" He groans. Wilbur, more awake but still looking completely exhausted, leans across him to read the clock on the bedside table.

“3, moja kaczka,” he murmurs into Quackity’s shoulder, seemingly falling back to sleep immediately upon delivering this information.

Quackity slides him off and sits up, looking down with concern.

“Wilbur, babe, you already slept for like twelve hours. And that was after feeding, and I know you slept well last night. Do you have fucking narcolepsy or something?”

Wilbur shakes his head into his pillow.

“Jus’ tired. Jesteś taki ciepły, wróć do łóżka,” he whines. Quackity hasn’t learned enough Polish yet to have a single fucking clue what that means aside from the word “warm.”

He gets up and digs through the closet for more blankets, covering his boyfriend in a mountain of them before sitting beside him worriedly. He reaches forward to feel his forehead, then remembers that Wilbur has been dead for well over three hundred years. Ixnay on that, he supposes.

~

*moja kaczka = my duck

*Jesteś taki ciepły, wróć do łóżka = You're warm, come back to bed

(i don't speak polish, im only slightly familiar, but these translations seemed pretty solid so hopefully they're alright)

ask game

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

Another tight hug

{ Ayato | tw:parental death, tw:depression tw:suicide attempt }

A short character study from Ayato's pov as he deals with his parents death, receiving his vision and inspiring others to receive theirs.

{"Group IX,SUW, The Swan, No. 1" 1915 by Hilma af Klint 1862-1944 }

"Perhaps, the Kamisato Clan were born to protect the Gods."

His mother used to say, in her ever so tender tone that never failed to soothe away his aching bones after each training session with his father.

Although he never said it out loud, never once did he fully agree with that statement.

The Kamisato clan belonged to the Kamisato clan, he would think. For in his adolescent's brain, his baby sister first steps towards him during that stormy day is far more precious than any Archon's weight in pure gold.

-

"Lord Kamisato, the Kaedehara clan have arrived to pay their condolences." A servant stood behind the paper screen door, their shadow contrasting against the candle lit room.

Ayato's breath paused for a second as his newfound title sank into the pit inside his stomach.

Gathering whatever's left of his composure and self will, he answered back using the formalities he has been taught to say when this day inevitably will arrive.

The words leaving his mouth never registered for him to remember what he said.

"As you wish my lord." Their steps echoed against the wooden floor, the house quiet than it has ever been.

He shouldn't keep them waiting too much, kazuha must be worried sick by now. And despite that, and the growing numbness in his legs for sitting on them for too long, he doesn't have the heart to move a muscle.

Not when his sister's head laid in his lap, the exhaustion of all those tears catching up to her and putting her mind to rest.

While he is older than before, she is still too young to have lost them now. Ayato can't help but feel guilt eating him at the realisation that he had more time with them than she did.

As his hand comped through her hair, deep down he knew that guilt would never compare to the guilt of knowing soon she will also lose him too.

The Kamisato clan have been leaderless for a while as his father's sickness worsen, all that work piling up will be hanged upon the neck of the first person able enough to bear its responsibility.

And it just so happened that today is his 18th birthday.

To think he'd be dressed from head to toe in black for his special day.

Meeting his parents eyes, he stared into those portraits on the table in front of him. What would they say if they saw him right now?

Would they feel proud of the fact he has not shed a single tear? Or would they scold him for letting ayaka cry? Would they feel pity for him for he has not met their expectations yet.

How would their faces look if he was just a bit early snd showed them the vision he had been granted merely a night ago. That the same gods they're sworn to protect looked down upon him and saw someone worthy.

Yet that damned blue orb remains locked away in a drawer inside his study. For how can they be so cruel to grant him a vision that didn't make him any less useless in standing there and watching his father wither away.

The irony, a non healing hydro vision.

And what of his mother? Why not grant her the vision instead, for he knows fair well she's stronger than everyone in his clan combined.

Yet in the same cruel twist of fate, she passed away alongside her husband on the same night.

For pain was from the gods, but they made no error.

He looked down at his sister, the sight of her in the black kimono made her look so small. Remembering their lasts words to him that night, to protect Ayaka.

"Mother, father." His throat felt dry as he spoke, "i promise you, i will bring honour back to the Kamisato clan."

-

Three days has passed since the funeral, and in this world of politics it's more than enough for people to start raising their expectations of him.

You've grieved and you've cried, now it's time to start moving with the world alas it leaves you behind.

For the common folk, Ayato is still a poor young soul pushed into shoes too big to fill, yet for the other clans he's akin to a clueless prey, a young sparrow that'll fall before he even gets to fly.

And as he strolls the shoreside of the beach nearby the Kamisato state, Ayato wonders if their brains are as empty as the seashells littering the sand.

Maybe true anonymity was his parent's last gift for him before their depart, his father was his teacher in almost everything he has known and his mother tended to his every need and want.

Servants sometimes were in sight but never close by enough to get a read on the young Kamisato.

They might have as well had the whole world fooled that he is some sweet lost innocent soul.

And he prefers it that way, with his hands full of cards and opponents so easy to read and steer, well at least for as long as this vail of youth remains clouding their judgement of him.

The smarter ones will catch on eventually, but for now he has a golden opportunity to reshape the Kamisato clan to whatever he likes and rebuild it from the ground.

Re-establishing the Shuumatsuban to be stronger and better than before was his first step, unless he can secure his and Ayaka's safety from assassination then he can't take any risky steps to get his clan back on its feet.

Training ayaka will be his second step, although with only 24 hours in a day he will have to give up his polearm lessons and rely on his sword more.

And his third step…

Stopping in his steps, Ayato leaned down towards the ocean waves, fingertips attempting to command the water to flow and weave itself around his hand.

But to no avail, the water merly bubbles up in offence before crashing against his feet.

Stepping away before getting his whole lower half drenched, Ayato looked in annoyance at the vision strapped against his hip.

Just another responsibility to bear and another set of expectations to meet, he needed to learn how to use it to his advantage and he needed to do it quickly.

Ayato closed his eyes, constraining all of his focus on the world around him. His hand brushing against the hilt of his sword as he took in the whistling of the wind and motion of the sea.

His mind was clear and despite not having vision, he could clearly conjour an image of the world around him.

A singular petal floating in the wind, heading towards him.

Faster than the eye could see, his sword split it in half before it fell to the ground, his finger running up the sharp edge of his blade as he attemped to get the water to flow through it.

Then he felt it, a drop of water hitting the tip of his nose, then another falling against his cheek, and a third one joined by a fourth and a fifth likewise.

His heart hammered against his chest as he slowly opened his eyes, more than a hundred raindrops falling around him.

Did he-

He looked at the sky and in a cruel joke of fate, instead of the clear starry night he faced a cloudy storm.

It's raining, it's just the weather.

He didn't do it.

The crack of thunder nearby felt like roaring laughter mocking him, the flashing of lightning growing brighter than his vision the day he got it.

Electricity filled the air, goosebumps traveled up his skin as his feet refused to leave the sand despite the slowly raising water levels of the sea.

In the horizon a bigger storm approaches, electric streams traveling through the water and heading towards his direction at an alarming speed.

And for a second, he thought about not moving and letting the electrocharged sea reclaim him.

The only thought echoing in his mind was, "mom, i miss you."

…

Only for the back of his white jacket to be tugged back, his unresisting body easily pulled away by the person behind him.

"My lord are you alright?" Thoma's arms kept their grip against him in case he might slip away, his expression sick with worry and he eyed him whole for any injuries.

Ayato didn't reply, shame surfacing up his lungs and choking him.

Only letting go after the other stood on his feet, Thoma fetched thr umbrella he dropped not a second ago as he sheltred Ayato from the pouring rain despite his own clothes starting to get drenched.

"At this rate you might catch a cold, please let's go back to the estate to dry you up." Thoma continued to fret over the other, his hand guiding Ayato against his back as he ushered him back to the steady ground.

Staying silent throughout the short walk back, Ayato stopped their steps just when he Kamisato state gate was in sight.

"Thoma" he looked in his eyes, facing him fully.

"Yes my lord?"

"You're free to leave."

Slightly taken back by his words, Thoma looked confused, "what do you mean?"

Remembering who he was and where he is, Ayato quickly rephrased it " Now that the situation in Inazuma is unclear, the trouble the Kamisato Clan faces will only increase. You are someone who can see what's at stake, so if you don't want to get involved, leave early."

Not sparing him another glance, Ayato thought it was for the best as he made his way towards the estate.

Worried and surprised whispers starting getting loader as the maids began to gather to check on his sorry drenched state, rushing him to get changed inside while supressing the urge to scold him.

He didn't meet Thoma for the rest of the night, only sparing a few minutes to have dinner with Ayaka before attending to his paperwork.

…

"Achoo."

Was how he woke up from sleeping against his work table, papers and chess pieces scattered everywhere and puddle of ink dripping down into the floor.

His orders to not let anyone disturb him till morning weren't taken lightly for none seemed to check if he had actually left his study that night.

Nose tingling, another sneezed followed soon.

Maybe it's just spring allergy, it doesn't necessarily mean he has a co-

And a third, then a fourth.

His nose starting running and he could feel his face heating up.

Okay yeah he does have a cold.

Trying to spot a box of tissues amidst the mess of paperwork galore, he almost slipped on the puddle of ink as the screen door to his study was slammed open.

"My lord, about yesterday I-" The rest of Thoma's word died on his tongue as he saw Ayato's state.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he quickly grabbed the tissue he keeps in his pocket as he helped Ayato.

"You should've gone to sleep in your own room." He gave him a disappointed look as his hand went to check his forehead temperature.

Any attempt for Ayato to argue back was interrupted by a sneeze, and so he was lead back to his room in defeat.

The soft mattress felt like heaven against his tired body, it was hard not to sink back into the pillows but he had to sit upright for the promise of breakfast that Thoma went to make.

"He hasn't left yet" was the only notable observation he made.

The smell of hot food made him sit upright again, a warm tray being places on his lap.

Opening his eyes that he doesn't remember closing, Ayato was faced with…a pyro vision instead of his morning eggs on the plate.

Thoma was looking at him earnestly.

Ayato looked back, then looked at the vision, then looked back at him.

"My Father has always taught me to be a loyal and righteous man" Thoma kneeled down, "If I leave at this time, I will lose my loyalty and righteousness."

The vision in front of Ayato began to glow, bright red and ablaze.

"I would like to do my best to do my part for the young master and the young lady. You will certainly need me as a helper in the path you embark on in the future. "

And for the first time in the last week, Ayato remembered how to smile.

-

"Think of it as an extension of your body, instead of two arms you have an arm and a sword now." Ayato breathed out as he helped his sister up from the ground.

They have been training for hours, and yet the look of determination on Ayaka's face didn't weaver for a split second.

She has been taking every word and advice Ayato gave her to heart.

"Draw your opponent's attention to the area you want them to focus on." Ayato demonstrated as he drew his sword and placing his left leg ahead, "then quickly move your sword to a different area."

Quickly attempting to block her right side, Ayaka felt the tip of the wooden sword press against the left side of her neck before being pushed her back on the ground.

Having enough self discipline not to show her frustration, Ayaka took a beavy breath as she got up herself.

"Again." She wasn't giving up.

The teacher side of Ayato was proud of her but the brother side was starting to feel a bit guilty.

"How about we take a break and get some boba-"

"No." Ayaka swiftly stricted, only for Ayato to dodge to the side.

She switched the direction last second, catching him off guard.

Only for her wooden sword to pierce a water clone of him instead, Ayato having moved back as swiftly.

"Hmm." He felt a proud smile creeping up his lips, "maybe a polearm would suit you better, it certainly has further reach which would make up for your reaction time."

Shaking her head as drops of sweat landing on the ground, Ayaka disagreed. "Mother used to use a sword, i want to be just like her and you."

Ayaka has never mentioned their parents before, not since the funeral.

Ayato's grip on his sword falters.

It has been two years.

He looks at Ayaka and he sees his father's hair and eyes, yet her soul is a mirror image of their mother's fighting one.

Having taken their mother's facial features and father's cunnings, Ayato chuckles at the irony of the situation.

Misunderstanding his laughter as mocking, Ayaka becomes even more determined to prove herself and she takes a steay pose with her sword ready. "Don't hold back." She says

"I won't." Water weaves itself around his sword and under his feet, as he lunges ahead faster than a water drop hitting the ground.

And Ayaka doesn't move away, instead she steadies herself to block, not a hint of doubt in her eyes.

Rising her sword up, a rush of ice freezes over the water, cracking the wooden sword into pieces and flipping Ayato on his back.

A white vision drops against her feet, both her an Ayato look at each other for 5 seconds not saying a word.

And then she jumps down to tackle him in a hug against the ground, the happiest smile ever on her face as she repeats that she finally did it.

In that moment, Ayato knows he fulfilled his promise of keeping his sister safe.