#it's projecting time. yeet

[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there’d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh… turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You… you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let��s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[elecman108]

"They do get a bit... quirky, but there's so many of them that, in all honesty, if you get sick of one there's bound to be another that will piss you off even more." -Vincent, probably, to some new hire

Fuck! I finished the Fazbear Crew and almost forgot Manora Mouse from Popgoes! There's a few from Popgoes that I skipped over (Cody Coyote, Lillie Lamb, Holly Robin, Morse Mole, Owen Owl), some mainline characters I skipped (Jeremy Fitzgerald, Fritz Smith, William Afton, the Mimic, Map Bot/Staff Bots, Music Man, there's probably more I'm forgetting), and some that I do have that are missing for specific reasons (eg. Lefty missing bc Marionette is here, Fredbear missing bc Goldie is here, Spring Bonnie missing because Springtrap/Vanny is here*), and some other Fangame characters I probably would want to add, but this is already like, seventy characters. I'm taking a break from them lol.

You're insane for clicking the readmore by the way. All characters, in order of left to right, by colour set:

PINK: Helpy, Cindy, Pigpatch, Pete, Mangle, Bonnet, Cupcake, Chica, Cyan, Katlynn, Minirena, Bidybab, Electrobab.

RED: XOR, Bane, Roxanne Wolf, Foxy, Ned Bear, Stone, Ray, Eclipse, Circus Baby, Ennard, Cassie Stevens, Ella, Marionette.

ORANGE: Sun, Penguin, Gregory Fazbear, Freddy Fazbear, Bloodmoon**, Jackal**, Grimm**, Jackie**, Orville, Manora, Fen, El Chip, Wendy.

YELLOW: Deedee, Doug, Blake, Princess**, Springtrap, Goldie Fredbear, Blank, Plushtrap.

GREEN: Popgoes, Happy Frog, Lolbit, Virtua**, Dreadbear, Chester, JJ, Montgomery Gator, Glitch.

BLUE: Mike Schmidt**, Reiyn, Vanessa, Ballora, Carnie, Bonbon, Lolzhax, DJ Music Man, Candy, Sara, Moon, Balloon Boy, Bonnie, Stanley, Liz Schmidt**, Discord, Vanny, Monika.

PURPLE: RXQ**, Rachel, Saffron, Mystie, Mr. Hippo, MXES, Shadow**, Vincent.

*Vanny AND Springtrap are both technically "Spring Bonnie", as Springtrap is the original Spring Bonnie and Vanny took over the appearance as the "original" Spring Bonnie given Springtrap had transitioned decades ago.

**Everyone with this has an alternate name, so in order: Jack-O-Moon, Jack-O-Bonnie, Grimm Foxy, Jack-O-Chica, Nightmare Cupcake, Delilah Afton, Michael Afton, Elizabeth Afton, Alex/RWQFSFASXC, Steven.

And, for anyone wondering about the relationships across the board with so many random Bisexuals...?

(Shit Pic Quality is my passion <3)

Mystie divorced Mr. Hippo forever ago and she's well over it because she has so many kids (the adult Animatronics like Cupcake, Foxy, Monty, etc) and grandkids (the kid-like Animatronics like Minirena, Bonbon, etc) to take care of. Mr. Hippo is still sad about it and keeps trying but it ain't working.

Katlynn and Wendy are my favourite girls, yes they're OCs, but they're in my AU so they go here. <3

Shadow and RXQ are my two favourite dead spectral idiots who are kind of like sandpaper against everyone else but each other. They're the perfect flavour of weird for each other yet grate the nerves and invade the privacy of everyone else around them on purpose just to get a rise out of them.

Foxy and Goldie are like hell together - they're in love, then Foxy's over here flirting with every man at the bar and Goldie's in the arms of DJ Music Man and flirting with Sara for some reason. They are both entirely unfaithful to each other yet still keep the other in the loop of their actions and it's a disaster. They've been besties for so long and the mutual pining for sixty years is REAL.

Baby and Ballora met each other once and decided to be essentially married. They have been together since their location had it's opening night, and have three kids (Minirena, Electrobab, and Bidybab). They're essentially like Freddy and Bonnie, but well before Freddy and Bonnie even existed. They're the ultimate power couple.

Doug and Rachel both owned a business and are actually married. Rachel jokes that her coworkers (Ray, Bane, Pete) are kind of like her kids because she's always telling them off for antics, and Doug is just madly in love with his rabbit wife.

Vincent died once. Springtrap got a new lease on life. They're both exes of the disaster couple that is Foxy and Goldie. Springtrap tries to be smooth and Vincent ignores him, but the second Vincent is mildly romantic Springtrap overheats and faints and requires repairs. They are the true disaster duo.

Chica and Roxy are absolutely out to be gay do crime insult Moon and get away with it. Chica is the buff chef and Roxy is the shockingly good driver and enjoys cleaning. They probably have unofficially adopted Cassie too, don't get them wrong.

Balloon Boy is that one weird kid who hangs around his nerd Marionette and somehow they're perfect for each other. Marionette is the most normal of the Toy Series aside from Mangle, and Balloon Boy eats batteries. Need I say more?

Freddy adopted Gregory as his son. Bonnie adopted Bonbon and Bonnet when he learned that the rabbit kids' dad (Funtime Freddy) and his boyfriend (Funtime Foxy) were scrapped. You ever play Dream Daddy? A similar thing is going on here with these two dads.

There are some former relationships that I didn't include (Delilah and William, Mangle and Toy Chica, Lefty and Rockstar Foxy) because one side of the relationship is very destroyed. There's a lot of relationships where both sides are destroyed too. Also Delilah/Virtua totally divorced William's bitch ass before he murdered her and turned her into a robot in my AU.

--

And, because it's Pride Month and I probably don't have more art for you, here's a bonus D&D Crew Set!

I think there's an additional one since the last time I posted about my D&D PCs, but that'd be just Cyrus. I have another one I'm cooking up (maybe an aasimar of some sort) but I'm gonna think about it some more before posting about them.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

....honestly i think part of the reason i don't give readers the version of my manuscript i intend to Query is because at that stage i absolutely cannot stomach the idea of making more revisions based on feedback lol

[zirasposts]

Love the aus where SY gets yeeted back To his old body. But the absolute Best shit is when he doesent just end up moping around In his apartment waiting for binghe.

Aka he has been sqq for so long now that the straight backed schoolary act isint an act anymore thouse are his manerisims now too.

I can see his family begin so confused (if its like no time passed between him getting yeeted In and back from pidw)

When one of his siblings thinks "oh i havent heard anything from Yuan i should propably call and make sure his eating." and when they do they find out hes back In gollege and trying to become a teacher? Hes already tuutoring people? He joined a music club and now aperently plays qupin? Like you dont hear from a guy In a bit and out of nowhere he got his life together.

SY does not have his life together hes just glinging on to what is familiar to keep himself going.

The first time one of his family memebers sees him they have To take a double take because Yuan can actually stand straight, and he got his unreachble imortal Air still intact.

He thinks he doesent have To worry about acting like something he isint anymore but wrong hes been sqq longer than he was SY.

Clear water surface reflects growth

He reads pidw again at some point along with also reading the comments he left when he read it for the first time. He gringes many times especially when reading about wanting sqq to get castrated or suffer More than becoming a pickle.

He leaves one final comment after re read

Airplane if youre still alive you better dm me or ill make you wish that our little gardening project was still on going

This sparked huge speculation on the fandom about what is going on between cuucumber and airplane.

Of course binghe comes for him eventualy, hes been very lonely and- wait, no... Thats not his binghe.

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“‘nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[linddzz]

Does mage Viktor's reality-hopping and 'only you can show me this' line imply that dozens if not hundreds of other Jayces have done what our Jayce did and end up there on that slope hearing the same thing from him? Did the Viktor that succeeded and lost everything, lost his own Jayce, keep getting to meet new Jayces one by one, allowing himself a small modicum of wistful joy in getting to see Jayce living and breathing again if only for a short time before he sends them back? talk to me here

Not only is it implied, we for sure see at least 8 (if my count is right) times Viktor has saved Jayce as a child, including the current one. You see them flash through and each time, he gave Jayce a different runestone

(gifs by @hextecht)

Since his phrasing was "all timelines, in all possibilities" it's pretty safe speculation that Viktor has been at this for way more than 8 rounds. We don't know if he's tried messing with other points of the timeline or if any other Jayces got as far as the our Jayce did when he reached the center of Wizard Viktor's hellscape (and I made such a distressed noise when the clouds parted and I realized the only beautiful place left, the center of the storm, the oasis, is where Jayce got assimilated).

The general consensus is that this is most likely the first time it worked, because Ekko used the rune Jayce had been given (the "acceleration rune" as Ekko calls it in S2E7) to make the time travel Z-drive that he cranks up to "break reality" levels before chucking it at Viktor's head and knocking that dork off enough for Jayce's "power of love" gamble to actually get through to him.

(I also have the opinion that Wizard Viktor is not going to stop here. He's got nothing but fields of dreamless solitude for him, this IS his project and he's probably going to keep trying to refine the process across timelines until some kinda multiverse cops show up like "dude. Fucking quit it!")

And OH BOY can I sure as hell talk about the way Viktor looks at Jayce over the top of the Jayce he destroyed!!!!

(gif by @glassrunner)

Look at him. LOOK AT HIM. His expression is already wistful and pained as he turns, but you can see him exhale with the breath knocked out of him. his eyelids actually flutter. He softens, he's struck. He looks like he's barely able to keep himself from crying in that moment where he not only looks at Jayce, but lets himself be seen by Jayce in return.

And which is more heartbreaking? That this is the first time Jayce got this far, the first time Viktor had to finally properly look at him after so many tries?

Or has this played out over and over for him? Has he looked over like this time and time again, and every time it takes his breath away? Subjecting himself to this repeatedly, and every. single. time. he's hit with the most classic doomed romance line

(Im holding myself BACK from rambling yet again about how Actually Deranged it is for Wizard Viktor to be doing this but @avelera and I talk about him being a fucked up little guy so much that I need to consider just having a wizard Viktor tag lmaooo but for more Wizard Viktor rambling enjoy

Wizard Viktor doesn't care about saving the world, he's just making sure Jayce and himself are intertwined

How many times has Wizard Viktor had to watch this himbo yeet himself into Pretty Hippy Viktor's cult?

Me giggling and kicking my feet in the air over Wizard Viktor being a control freak egomaniac about Jayce )

[loveaurapearl]

Hey, I saw the new episode of Wild Life and it was amazing. I love how personal these choices are, even though Grian himself didn't choose who got what power. But seriously, it feels like all the powers were personally picked for each player. I've seen people analyze each ablity and their connections and I wanted throw my hat in the ring. (Okay, update. Watched Grian's video and it's clear that Grian did personalized the powers. He has a list of all the people who have what powers, he just didn't realize how dangerous some of these powers are with red names. He mentioned regretting giving Scar the sit command the first time Scar sat on him so yeah. Unlike the randomness of Soulmates in Double life, these powers aren't random. Just want to clarify that.)

The first one I want to mention is Joel's ability since it's the one that has stumped everyone. I mean, after all, what does triple jumping have to do with Joel? Well, at the beginning of his episode, he mentioned that he hears a slime sound effect when he uses his ability. I think his superpower was chosen because of the slime shop that Joel forgot to create for most of Season 10 of Hermitcraft. Now what do Slimes have to do with triple jumping? Well, slimes are bouncy and create momentum. Also, I think Grian put it in because it sounded like a cool power. Also, Also, it allows Joel to do a lot of PARKOUR! Which Joel is obsessed with.

Rendog got the power of masking himself as other people. This is amazing because he masked as Tango in Secret Life and the guy's an actor. He's always putting up masks like the Red King, the King of Hermitcraft, the Guard Dog of the Fairy Forte, and being part of the Gigaverse.

Gem has Astral projection which was given to her because she hates using freecam so it was a punishment to her for being so too good at the game. However, she was given the ability to give her more control over people since she was able to snoop on everyone. Kind of like a Watcher. (Or Listener in some people's headcannons. I've seen evidence for people to think this is a Watcher power or Listener power. I'm leaning on Watcher Power.)

Cleo was given the power to raise the Dead because she is a Zombie.

BigB is the power of the Creaking which is fitting since he became one of them thanks to living in their forrest.

Bdubs has the power of time because of his obsession with clocks and the power of sleep because the man is obsessed with sleeping in Hermitcraft.

Etho is an loof and sneaky man who likes to keeps his distance. He's also a coward so a quick escape plan by yeeting yourself with wind charges helps. Also, he did Frogger in Minecraft and that's a lot of jumping around.

Tango's ability is to flee like he never fleed before. Aka being a coward and also annoy people. (Someone mentioned the icewalker ability could be reference to Decked out 2. Also flee with extra flee.)

Ldshadowlady (Aka Lizzie) is just focusing on the shadow in her user name. It also represents her time falling in the Void in Secret Life. The void energy engrained in her.

Jimmy got invisiblity because the man is always sneaking around and the fact that Jimmy doesn't get this far normally. Normally he's not even alive at this point. So the narrative is kind of representing his unusual position. Also it feels like a very Listener kind of superpower.

Martyn's power is literally the power to LISTEN to people. Very Listener power.

Impulse's power is to swap places with people. It kind of represents how much of a flip-flopper he was in Third Life. Yeah know, traitor Impulse. Also, Enderpearl satis cambers and using weird glitches to find diamonds in Third life references.

Scott's ability of Animal shapeshifting is not only a cruel twisted torture made up by the Watchers because they hate Scott, seriously, it's the worst superpower, but it also represents Scott's kind and gentle nature. While the guy knows how to fight, most of the time Scott is a nice chill guy. He's friendly and charming like a passive mob. He does his best to support the team and he will sacrifice himself for the team. The guy is also soft with animals. Remember the cow and the pufferfish in Third Life? What about the Axolotos in Last Life? Also, the guy likes to get pets in Empires.

Pearl's ability to fly is the fact that she and Grian are Skyblings but also a more subtle connection to the watchers. After all, Watchers do have angel wings.

Grian's ability to mimic everyone else's powers is so Watcher-coded it's not even funny. It's like he's purposely making it clear to everyone that he's a Watcher now. And the fact that he made this Wild Card to get Skizz and Mumbo back is just icing on the cake. He just never realized how bad his wish to bring his friends back would bite him in the back so hard. Ah Grian, not thinking your plans ahead and thinking about the consequences. Just like always.

And finally Scar. Scar has wanted Super strength all season. He mentioned it in episode one and he's been testing it out every time a Wild Card has been activated except for when his teammates were on red. The guy loves the classic power to punch people and to yeet people off cliffs. It fits his namesake. And the power to sit on everything is just genius. Not only does it allow some very funny moments but it fits Scar's cowboy aesthetic. It's also the perfect fit for Scar because at first you think it's harmless. After all, you just get yeeted a bit and Scar rides on you. All fun and games. But once the fighting begins, this power shows how scary Scar actually is. Now you can't get Scar off you because he's sitting on you and you can't knock him off or hurt him. Sure he can't hurt you back, but it just means he's waiting his time. And the yeeting becomes more scary once your falling to your doom off a cliff. It's also a very protective power since he can make foes fly a million miles away from him, out of sword range and now the only way to hurt him is with a bow. A bow which Scar is way more skilled at using. After all, he is the HotGuy. Also he did mention HotGuy in his episode when he was trying to hit Tango. It's just that he missed it since Tango's so fast. (Oh yeah, I almost forgot, Scar got Thorns as part of his power set. Not only is it another defensive weapon since it makes people not want to hit him because they would be hurt back even with range attacks, but also it represents his connections to the earth. He is a terraformer. It also represents Double life since it kind of mimics the gimmick of if you get hurt, I get hurt of being soulmates. Just wanted to add this in.)

Anyway, I hope you like my analysis.

[mothandpidgeon]

Well Worn (Joel Miller x gn!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

Rating: M

Summary: You grapple with Joel’s death amongst his things. 

wc: 1k

Contents: grief, loss, Joel is dead, reader is (was) in an established relationship with Joel, Joel is sir not appearing in this film, sad Ellie, reader is not described but fits in Joel’s clothes 

notes: How are we all doing, folks? Bad? Me too. I used this tiny fic to just be as melodramatic as I needed because I’ve spent the past 24 hours totally wrecked. I began writing this before episode 2 but I saw in the teaser for episode 3 we’re getting Ellie in Joel’s closet so I guess I’m just working with cliches here. 

Joel screenshot in the moodboard by @iamasaddie Thanks @moonlitbirdie for reading this before I yeeted it out sorry I made you cry. 

--

The clock in tbe hall ticks so loudly, you can feel it echo off the inside of your skull. If it weren’t for the fact that Joel restored the little wooden figurines around its face, you’d rip it down right now and smash the dianty birds and berries to smithereens. Each movement of the second hand is another reminder, another moment gone by without him. 

You sit on the floor of the bedroom the two of you shared. The dresser drawers hang open like empty gaping mouths, their contents strewn about over  the quilt. All clothes waiting to be sorted. His clothes. 

You make two piles. One for things that need mending— shirts missing buttons, jeans with worn knees. The other for things that are ready to wear. It’s all done with as much detachment as you can muster, fighting the memories that bubble up as you fold each piece.

You’re not sure what inspired you to tackle this project today, still so deep in your grief. It’s something to do that isn’t just listening to the minutes move by. Maria would tell you to take as long as you need but everyone in Jackson’s grieving now and they’re busy mending the gate and replacing windows. Soon there will be newcomers with only the shirts on their backs and they’ll need something to wear. 

You used to tell Joel that very thing. 

“If you’re not going to wear a hat then give it to somebody else,” you’d say. 

“Fine. Get rid of it,” he told you, calling your bluff. 

“Just wear the damn thing!”

You empty pockets of all the things Joel left forgotten. Mostly screws and stubby pencils ground down almost to the eraser. A folded up scrap of paper with some diagram from one of the building projects, dimensions scribbled in his messy hand. It’s all rather ordinary and somehow that makes it worse. 

Tears come as the piles grow but you push on. You’re used to that by now. For the past few days you’ve done all sorts of things with hot, wet cheeks, it’s not even worth wiping them away. 

You remind yourself for the thousandth time that you ought to be grateful. The few years you’ve had with Joel were a miracle after all. What were the chances you’d both survive? Both find Jackson, find each other? You had something most people never get. And Joel wasn’t the only one that died that day. There are fresh graves for men much younger than him. Still, it doesn’t feel fair to lump your loss in with the rest. They died fighting. Joel was murdered. 

You throw shirts down onto the rug, the sleeves of Joel’s chambray button down fluttering into the heap as your vision blurs with yet another wave of anguish. Dutifully you strip each hanger and stack them away, working snaps and buttons open and then closed again. 

It’s not long before you find it– his favorite flannel shirt– and the ache in your chest ebbs again, heart straining against your ribs. The sensation is so familiar now, sometimes catching you unexpectedly, but always at a moment when you miss him most. 

You slide your arms carefully into one sleeve then the other. It hangs loose on your frame, warm as if it had just come off of his shoulders. The fabric is soft, a reminder of what life felt like— pressing your face against his broad back as you wrapped your arms around his middle. You try it now, lifting its front to your wet face one last time.

It smells like him. Musk and wood shavings, and something distinctly Joel that you can’t put your finger on. Behind your eyelids, you do your best to picture Joel as you breathe him in. The way he was, not wrapped up in a snow-soaked sheet. 

There are footsteps on the stairs and you recognize their rhythm immediately as Ellie’s. You wipe the snot from your nose on the shirt before she appears in the doorway. She takes in the scene around you but her eyes land on her shoes, red rimmed but refusing to well up again.

“What’re you doing?” she asks. Her voice has been much lower, not quite a whisper more a growl.

You want to scream at her, throw one of Joel’s work boots in her direction and shriek. Blame her, punish her for taking him away from you. Maybe not in the end but for all of those moments when his gaze clouded over as he quietly frowned out the back window towards the garage. 

But there’s another part of you that wants to hold her, to cradle Ellie in your arms and tell her that none of this is her fault, that you know your pain is nothing compared to hers. 

You’re too exhausted for either so you just sit there and stare up at her.

“I don’t know,” you say. 

It’s as honest an answer as any. You don’t have the heart to tell her that one day soon, someone else in the dining hall will be wearing Joel’s navy sweater with the patch on the elbow. You’re not even sure you have it in you to part with any of this. Not when you can still remember the way his body felt through  all of this fabric.

“I came to tell you I’m leaving,” Ellie says after a beat. “I’m going after them.”

You sigh. Tired, defeated. Oddly proud.

There’s no talking her out of it. It’s not like she’s ever been persuaded of anything in her life. But there’s a dull voice somewhere deep in the back of your brain that demands you say all of those grown up, level headed things. All those words Joel would want you to say. That it’s dangerous. That it won’t bring him back. That you don’t want to lose her too. 

You look down at the pile of clothes Joel used to fill. Socks you picked up off the floor with a sigh, t-shirts once damp with his sweat, pants you’d guide down his hips to the floor. All limp as his dead body. 

You scoop up one of Joel’s bulky sweaters and toss it to Ellie. She’s going to need it where she’s going.

“Bundle up.”

--

Thanks for reading and sorry.

Reblogs, comments, dms, and asks always welcome.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

First of all, this is not a criticism of the TW eng translation team, but why are the translations of everything so silly? Like in my country, things that are of ENG origin also receive strange names when translated (like games, movies or books), sometimes fan translations do better than the og ones.

I'm not sure if you had any specific examples of what qualifies EN as "silly", but the two big explanations as to why a lot is changed are:

EN aims for a younger demographic than JP. Twst JP is geared towards adult women (mid to late 20s), whereas EN is seemingly geared towards teenagers and young adults. This is why you might find a lot of... extra flourishes... that don't exist in JP. Some egregious examples are (sorry for this, Floyd), "YEET!" and "*epic sigh*".

EN specifically calls itself a "localization" and not a "translation". A "translation" would be more directly porting over what is said in Japanese to English. A "localization", however, implies that things may be changed in order to better suit the culture of the new language that it is being localized to. A large part of the EN audience is based in North America, and, more specifically, the USA, which is sensitive about some matters such as weight and slavery. This is why we see changes in EN like mentions of Azul's weight being removed and Jamil being changed from a "servant" to more of an "employee" to the Asims.

We also need to think about budget and/or time constraints. Fans translate Twst out of passion for the project, and they also aren't on a time crunch. Unfortunately, the people on the localization team don't get that luxury and most likely are not paid enough to care (when they deserve way more). On top of that, there doesn't seem to be consistent quality control for the localization, as there are many inconsistencies (like "Rielle" and "Felecity Cosmetics" being spelled 2-3 different ways) and mistranslations (incorrect subjects, ie "you" instead of "I") that still to this day are not corrected.

This may also explain why many UM/signature spell names changed, but not consistently. In JP, the UM is written one way, but said another way. In EN. they sometimes go with the written UM name ("Paint the Roses"), sometimes go with the spoken UM name ("It's a Deal"), sometimes use a combination of written and spoken UM name ("Crimson Slumber"), and sometimes just say, "screw it!" and come up with something entirely new ("Double Down").

[merlinpotterandtherandom]

Harry and Draco are married and Draco is a Potions Master that works from home, Harry is an Unspeakable and just got home after finishing a project at work and being told he could go home early. Harry barely left the floo when he hears an explosion coming from Draco's lab, so he runs to check on his husband, finding his husband covered in an unknown potion, but otherwise fine. Harry just hugs Draco tightly, ignoring that Draco is covered in potion, 'cause he just needed to make sure Draco was okay. After Harry helps Draco remove the potion from Draco in a bath, they decide to just order something for dinner and then go to sleep.

When Harry wakes up, he finds himself being held by Ron and Hermione and staring at his husband's face...Well, his husband's 15 years old face. He notices Draco looking a bit panicked as well, so that's good that he's not alone here. They let out a "What the fuck?!" at the same time, making Hermione, Ron, Pansy and Blaise look at them both weirdly. Harry doesn't care if he will sound insane to his best friends, he just needs some answers from his husband, so he asks "What was the potion you were brewing? And why the fuck it seems to have yeeted us back in time?!" and Draco answers with "I don't know why it did this, but I swear I was just working on some improvement for the wolfsbane potion, because we just found out about Teddy..." Hermione, Ron, Pansy and Blaise are just confused now, who the fuck is Teddy? And yeeted back in time, what did Harry meant by that? Harry just pulled Draco close and hugged him, confusing their friends even more, 'cause Hermione and Ron just had to hold Harry back so Harry wouldn't go and attack Draco, and Pansy and Blaise just had to hold Draco when he stumbled back because of Potter's attack...And now they're fucking hugging?! What the fuck was going on?

[shanklin]

Stan and Ford share a single brain cell.

Literally.

It’s the very special brain cell that turns the holder into a genius. It also likes to suck up all new knowledge it can find.

You lose the brain cell? You lose the knowledge.

As children no one was sure which one of them was the smart twin. Maybe they both were. Maybe neither.

The brain cell holder switched freely depending on who needed it the most. However, the older they got the more Ford used it.

He actually liked to study and feed the brain cell, unlike Stan who just shrugged and let Ford have it most of the time. It’s not like he needed it for much anyway except for getting a passing grade on a test. 5 minutes were usually more than enough.

This was all fine until it wasn’t. Until Ford did all the work, put all the effort into studying, only for Stan to steal and misuse his efforts whenever it was convenient for him to do so.

And let’s not forget that time when Stan skipped school and took control over the brain cell right when Ford was supposed to give a presentation.

Ford was the main holder of the brain cell. All his knowledge and studies went into it. Without the brain cell he was no longer a genius and he couldn't fall back on the knowledge he acquired.

Needless to say the fall out of that presentation wasn’t pretty and Stan promised Ford not to use the brain cell unless Ford allowed it.

He kept that promise even when he shouldn’t have. He never took control over the brain cell to check if Ford’s project was really still working as intended, because he didn’t want to break Ford’s trust and lose him over it.

After he got kicked out however, the promise meant nothing. Stan still used the brain cell rarely, but he used it. He had to use it to survive, though he tried to only use it in emergencies or when Ford was sleeping and the brain cell was not in use, which as the years went by became a concerning rare occasion.

One time Stan stole the brain cell from Ford and read all books he could find on the importance of sleep and yeeted the brain cell back to Ford, hoping he would get the message.

Another time he spent a day wrestling Ford mentally for the brain cell just to learn how to cook basic meals because their mother was worried about Ford's eating habits.

These occasions were few and far in between. So few in fact that a certain dream demon never quite figured out what was going on. He was however slightly impressed and very frustrated with how well guarded the important parts of Ford’s mind were.

Ford never mentioned it, in part because sharing the brain cell has always been as natural as breathing and in part because he was ashamed Bill would think less of him if he knew that the genius mind he chose wasn’t truly Ford's alone.

And then Bill betrayed Ford and the age old question of who the smart twin was finally got its answer.

It was Stanley. With or without the brain cell Ford knew, Stanley would have never been this stupid. He would’ve seen through Bill from the start.

Ford’s stupidity has doomed the world and Ford has no way to stop it. Bill owned him.

Oh, but he doesn’t own the important part right? He hasn’t cracked the brain cell yet. The one thing he needed to activate the portal was still out of his reach.

Ford has no way to keep Bill out of his mind, but years ago he found a way to keep the brain cell out. It was supposed to be an emergency measure if Stan one day decided to keep the brain cell permanently, but it will now be used for the exact opposite.

So Ford threw the brain cell into Stan’s mind, blocked it with an unbreakable spell from coming back and fell asleep smiling.

Let Bill do whatever he wanted with his mind and body, Ford was useless to him now.

Meanwhile Stan wakes up with the knowledge of how to destroy the world and dull emptiness where his brother’s presence used to be.

Meanwhile Ford, with the math skills of a second grader, drinks a mental smoothie and laughs at Bill flipping his shit over Ford suddenly being an idiot.

“Ah, sorry Bill. Could you dumb it down a little? I have no idea what you just said.”

[cosmousee]

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓕𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽 😇💌

Hey everybody! I am back from yet another hiatus (I will stop doing that I swear).

Hope you all are doing well~

Today’s reading is on gentle whispers from spirit. Now it can be anyone, the universe, the spirits, the Gods, your ancestors, whatever you believe in. Just call upon them while choosing your pile and yeah~

Lets get on with the reading, and remember whatever doesn’t resonate, pass it on<3

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Dang, pile 1, it feels like you’ve been going through so much and for a while now. Like it feels like a never ending cycle of some shit which is always going on and you can’t catch a break.

You might feel you got a breather for one day and you feel that nice, we had a good day today and then your day ends up with something or the other happening and then you’re in that cycle all over again.

Feels so much like my past month, so, bestie, I really get you.

There’s so much, you might have been in constant fight or flight mode, having to put so much effort and time and your mind in order to do a task. And ofcourse life doesn’t let you do one task at a time, its constant multitasking and its not easy.

Having to source your own energy to sustain yourself every. Single. Day. oh my god. Even as I type this I can feel the tiredness, but still the zeal to get the work done, the fire in your hearts, that whatever happens you want to do the things you love. This might be a clash between many of your own passion projects, or you know just even life, that you find time to work on your art, your story, your side business and then also find time to do laundry.

Its been constant juggling, constant heartache, headache, you name it, for a while now.

The very first image spirit showed me was a fireplace. You know those ones you sit in front of during winters, sipping a cup of hot chocolate, or coffee or whatever.

Spirit wants you to realise that you’ve done enough, you’ve spent enough. Its time for you to take rest, take a breather. And chill for like a good few days. Of course hard work has its own place, but that does not mean that you’ll burn yourself out.

And if you feel that you know, you HAVE to toil away at the thing only then you’ll achieve things in life, my dear, please take a seat, and a blanket and your choice of drink (its fine if its alcohol because I totally get it–but responsible consumption).

This past week, spirit got real with me and went, “You’re not supposed to struggle so much, you’re not supposed to be uncomfortable so much.” They were teaching me that when things get difficult, sometimes it’s best to just remove yourself from that situation and go to a better place. Its as simple as saying ‘I deserve better’ and then just yeet yourself from there. I know its easier said than done, and I've fought with spirit alot on this, and I still do. Because even I feel that you gotta go past the uncomfortable to grow.

But sometimes the discomfort is there just to teach you that there is comfort if you just ask for it, if you just look for it. If you just say that you deserve to live comfortably it’ll be there. You’ll just have to take that decision, make that call, ask for help and you shall receive it. And you’ll receive it in such intensity and you'll be so dumbfounded that why were you suffering so much.

I yap alot and I dont stop here you might have to read so many things and just–yeah. On the ending note I just want to say that spirit really wants you to take care of yourself, pushing yourself to achieve things is one thing, but spirit doesn’t want you to live in extremely uncomfortable situations. You’re their literal baby and I know they can be difficult sometimes, to teach you things, but they always look out for you too. (I can feel my guides being like ‘told you so’, doesn’t change the fact that y’all get on my nerves so much)

Wish you well pile 1 <3

That’s all I have for you today! Thank you so much for reading🎀🌻Please let me know what resonated I love hearing from y'all<3

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Pile 2

Pile 2, spirit is so so so proud of you, your journey, how far you’ve come.

They are so happy and so proud of the things you’ve done. And it feels like its literally everything, it can literally just be the way you’ve done your hair and they’re like “You’re doing amazing sweetie!” and they have their camera on and they’re recording you.

I mean in my head it feels like, you woke up, you are so tired, but you still made your bed before you leave for the day, and SPIRIT IS LIKE HOLY SHIT MY BABY MADE THEIR BED with literal tears in their eyes.

They see you, they acknowledge you and they are just in awe of you and what ever you are doing. It��s literally like you don’t have to be Alexander The Great or you know, do some out of the universe type of shit to get them to be proud of you.

Its just unconditional love and support. You defended yourself against someone who was being mean to you, and you felt a little bad about it?

I can literally see spirit, with their arms crossed, and they are nodding like “Exactly my child! This is exactly what you should do!”.

So spirit is with you, every, single, step of the way, remember that.

Also, they mean to tell you that there is greater happiness, greater contentment waiting for you if you open your heart to it.

You might as well just be happy where you are, and spirit has no problem with it. They’re just letting you know, that if you want and you need, just open your heart and there’s gonna be a whole new world for you.

(see I asked for gentle whispers and this might be the gentle part, and in reality they might be pushing the fuck out of you to go follow that path and drop signs left, right and centre. So I thought of putting this out there)

Im saying this because I had this imagery of a person just putting their hand on their heart and closing their eyes and just beams of strings emerge out of their heart. Your heart will tell you where to go if you listen to it and if you want it.

Spirit is being real as well, once you open your heart and many opportunities pour in and it’ll be hectic, it’ll be draining, it can feel as if you’ve been working the whole day and you just come back and you just sleep. Like you lay on the bed and in a second you’re out cold and this repeats every day. Because when you do things your heart desires it takes SO MUCH of your energy.

Okay so this can be sort of a confirmation for some of y’all as well who have listened to their heart and are on the path. Because you’re getting so tired you might feel that you’ve done something wrong.

You haven’t.

This will go on for a while till it settles. You might feel a bit sad that you don’t have much energy to put elsewhere or whatever. But it isn’t for long. Your spiritual team is always there cheering you on and being so very proud of you. Keep going and do well~ I am also so very proud of you cuties<3

Wish you well pile 2 <3

That’s all I have for you today! Thank you so much for reading🎀🌻Please let me know what resonated I love hearing from y'all<3

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Pile 3

Dear pile 3, how long has it been since you’ve taken a slow, refreshing walk? When was the last time you’ve actually felt your thoughts were slow, when you could actually think instead of your thoughts going a hundred miles per hour?

Hold your horses guys.

Spirit is telling you to be gentle with yourselves, to “chill” as they just said. They’re telling you that life is not going anywhere, you may feel that just because. You may feel that because you’re trying to see where you are in reference to others.

But look at yourself, just at yourself, and your life. You’re at the right place my sweetheart, be in no hurry. There’s no rush. If you stop and you feel, you’ll get the cool breeze on your face, gently passing through the strands of your hair. You’ll smell the fresh grass, you’ll feel the cool air, the sun and you’ll be very content.

Give yourself a break. At least a short one.

I know realistically and practically you might have a proper job and you’ll be like “I HAVE A SPREADSHEET DUE TONIGHT AND YOU’RE TELLING ME TO CHILL?!”

And honestly, I get you, because even I have so many things due tomorrow…and I haven’t even started and its like 11:51pm at my place right now.

Its okay. Its fine even if you take a break for 5 minutes. But let it be a break. Let your brain rest. Treat it as your leisure time. And if you can take a longer break then even better.

Chill out, bake some cookies man, listen to music. Just doom scroll. Hustle is a joke, its a prank and its better to stay the fuck away from it. False urgency is NOT REAL.

Honestly, take a break and not just because of that. You’ll realise how much more productive you are after that. When I was doing my undergraduate in psychology, we had this concept of insight learning. Its basically that when you cannot figure out a solution, just let it be. Go do something else and your subconscious will have an answer ready in an instant.

So taking a break doesn’t mean you aren’t still working. Your brain will, in its subconscious. That is literally its job. So even though you are doom scrolling, your brain is working at it backend. You just have to convince your conscious brain that yeah this break is essential and anyways the backend is at its job right wink wink

Don’t be afraid to take your time, things will work out well for you. Don’t burn yourself out okay? It takes so much to get back on your feet once you get burnout. (been there done that way too many times).

Even if you feel this was unrealistic of them to ask you to take breaks, I hope you just try. Maybe start for like 3 minutes with a timer on and then if you feel it worked, then you can always increase it!

Wish you well pile 3 <3

That’s all I have for you today! Thank you so much for reading🎀🌻Please let me know what resonated I love hearing from y'all<3

[fixyourwritinghabits]

FINISHED MY MANUSCRIPT AND YEETED IT AT MY LIT AGENT time to get some slee - oh shit NaNoWriMo is here.

Erm.

Right, so if you're like me and you have the opening line of your NaNo project and a vague idea, I'd still like to encourage you to take part in NaNoWriMo. A large number of responses I get at this time are people who drop out in the first week. You have a whole month! If you need some nudging to stay in the game, please consider:

Any writing done by the end of the month is more writing than you had before. The biggest benefit of NaNoWriMo is having accomplished something, be it 50000 words or a couple of chapters. Using NaNo as a tool to carve out writing time can be really useful, and it's worth giving a try if you've had trouble figuring out how to get things done.

You don't have to write a book. You don't even have to work on the same project every day! Whatever needs writing - those fanfic drabbles, that personal essay you really want to publish, those three ideas you can't pick between - can be written during NaNoWriMo.

NaNoWriMo is a great way to connect with other writers, both local and online. Listen, it's hard to find other writers. My current group is spread across the world and we have trouble pinning down Discord meetups. Sometimes finding an in-person group can really help, but how to do that is hard. NaNoWriMo can be a chance to find people you vibe with - or don't vibe with, but can sit next to for an hour to write in silence. Anything helps.

No writing is bad writing. Even if you never look at it again, sitting down to write is like working out. You are practicing and improving your skills, even if you don't realize it. The only way to get better is to keep doing it.

You don't have to win. You don't have to write every day. You can even lower your goals to 300 words a day and still being doing NaNo, because you're putting in the work.

You can jump back into NaNoWriMo at any time. Have a bad day? A bad week? A final exam you must spend all your time and energy on? Don't give up on Day 3, Day 15, or Day 25. Every day of the month can be a new opportunity to write, no matter how many setbacks you have.

If you've never done NaNoWriMo before, give it a try! If you've tried it before and pounding out a novel in a month doesn't work for you, make NaNoWriMo your own thing. A paragraph a day, a drabble a week - whatever keeps your words flowing, this is the perfect month to set goals and try things out to figure out your writing styles.

Good luck!

[fallisl1fe]

When I saw your Drift art I literally squealed in my seat OMG ITS DAMN GORGEOUS THE LIGHTNIIINNNGG THE ATMOSPHERE💖✨✨✨

Then Percy ones AAAGHHHH he is one of my favorites and now I know that green looks good on him :> Wing spotted!!! Pretty knight boi I still have 3 unfinished art for him AAAA I need free time cause I wanna post them😭

Anyways whenever I open Tumblr your arts with BEAUTIFUL coloring made my days brighter sorry for late but Thank you for being awesomeee!! 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Btw for Keferon's new au consider: Betta fish!Wing ? He has many panels and spiky so maybe if we bend them to fins...or if you have another idea? no pressure ofc!! I thought about Lionfish but then nahh thats probably Knockout xD Last of all hope you have a wonderful day!!! ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

OMG MERMAID WING?? HOLD ON I HAVE AN IDEA

You mean this kind of design right? Cuz I HAD SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS HEHEHEE!! He's so frilly RAAAGGHHH. I'm screaming rn, absolutely fangirling over Wing atm o(｀ω´ )o

Dude the Betta fish is perfect for Wing. And you just know I had to fishify his little skirt in the back. Anyway he's wearing a helmet that go around his head's side fins cuz I couldn't make his eyebrows into fins in a way I liked lol

I would love it if his story started right after the tsunami and he's barreling through cities trying to save anyone who survived. Imagine being stuck underwater and this giant fish man swims by, yeets you to dry land, and dissapears before you even see him properly XD

He would probably be part of a hidden society outside of the main mer city, so I dont think Prowl, Shockwave, or Blurr would recognize him. Dude imagining him meeting one of those three is really funny actually. Do you think he'd also be afraid of Prowl (cuz orca)?

(Apocolyptic Ponyo AU belongs to @keferon)

Note for White Heart anon: THANK YOU SO MUCH EEEEEE IM SO GLAD MY ART MAKES YOU HAPPY! <3<3<3

Percy does look good in green, such an ominous boy hehehe. Perceptor is also one of my favs, I love him so much 😭❤️

And I hope you find time to finish your drawings! It sucks when things get in the way of creative projects :(

Have a great day too bro! Thank YOU for being wonderful! 🫵✨

(Photo reference for the design from White Heart anon!)

[calebslittlecrow]

Your Shifts Are Valid, Even The "Mini" Ones

Let's start with this, before I change my mind about being motivational for once: Your. Shifts. Are. Valid. Even if you only stayed for 30 seconds before you yeeted yourself back into your CR as if you saw taxes approaching at a rapid pace. Even if you couldn't make out the thread count of your DR sheets or recall what your carpet tasted like. Still counts. Still real. No refund needed. Before someone jumps in ready to fight: no, this isn't about people who say "mini shifts don't count for me personally, but I respect them for others". That's none of my business, go and do your thing ^-^ This is about the people who feel the need to barge uninvited into posts celebrating a mini shift and drop gems like: -> "It only counts if you stayed longer than a month" -> "You're not a real shifter if you only mini shifted" If, even for just a moment, you find yourself in your DR or another reality, saw your DR bedroom, smelled it, heard it, all of that, congrats buttercup, you shifted. You did it. You touched another reality. Just because you got startled, distracted or kicked yourself back by your own surprise doesn't mean it's invalid. Feels like shit, but it happens. The mechanics on how to do it? Still worked. The duration? Irrelevant The validation? Yours alone. Look at it this way: If a kid hops on a bike without training wheels for the first time, wobbles forward three meters, before crashing into the next hedge available, would you lean over them and tell them to their dirt covered little face: "Well, that didn't count because it was under 5 meters". Probably not, right? Unless you want to make kids cry. So why are we holding ourselves and others to those high arbitrary standards when it comes to shifting? Because some people are insecure? Because gatekeeping makes some people feel important? Because projecting their own failures onto others is easier than doing the inner work themselves? Maybe. Possible. Not really my problem. What ruffles my feathers is watching people share their excitment about a mini shift, all wide-eyed and buzzing with happiness, only to be told by some twat that it isn't valid because "it was under a month, so it doesn't count." And most of the time it comes from people who haven't even shifted themselves. From people who need others to fail too to feel better. Shifting isn't a sport, we have no leaderboard. No ones is handing out trophies for "who stayed the longest". This isn't a speedrun and sure as shit there is no reason to be a twat online over what people consider mini shifts. Stop comparing yourself to others, stop downplaying what you have accomplished and stop letting people tell you what counts as a shift and what not. Those five seconds are a lot more than what those people have managed. So celebrate it! Brag about it, be happy, you licked the multiverse and it looked awkwardly back. That is not nothing, that is everything.