#literally the amount of effort i poured into these too like

[iamespecter]

Sorry for not being as active as I used to be y'all, I haven't been on here because I've been pouring most of my focus into finishing a backlog of commissions and it has unfortunately left me with no energy to interact and socialize here lol

For the past week alone I've been working on this BEAST of a comm, and both me and my setup had a bit of a technical difficulty with just how BIG this specific commission was, in terms of details and quite literally file size too (this was originally a 5000x3000 piece, which caused a lot of black screens and me waiting for my PC to catch up everytime a 15-minute autosave was happening)

I feel like me suddenly being inactive was a necessary thing as well because as much as I don't want to admit it, my socials have been a bit... distracting... in this pursuit, and I am realizing a very concerning problem. And as such, I had to cut off and limit the amount of times I will be present here in an effort to exert self-control and instill discipline on myself.

I do not have anything new to show unfortunately, and may continue to NOT be able to show anything Digital Circus AU or fandom content at all, so all I can say is I'm sorry is this post is disappointing news because you followed me for that kinda thing.

Also I got a tooth infection(?) and a pink eye lol, how fun /s (don't worry though, I'm still fine and not really in a painful situation, just a minor inconvenience)

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ok so like i get where ppl are coming from with the “the crew loves izzy” takes but also like. ok. i think that take involves a certain amount of reading very deeply into the text to a degree that is almost reading against the text at some points. it’s like when ppl pour all this energy into an underdeveloped and unportant side character—none of those layers ppl add to the character are strictly contradicted by the text, but it clearly wasn’t what the writer intended for anyone to really focus on. and yeah, death of the author, just bc the writers didn’t intend for ppl to think abt something that hard or care about it that much doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to do whatever the fuck we want. but bc i love analyzing the shit out of this show i do want to talk about WHY i think the textual support for this headcanon isn’t rlly there.

first of all. when archie is like “why are we trying so hard to save this guy, he’s kinda a dick” and jim’s like “yeah but he’s our dick.” rather than elaborate on what makes izzy special to them they’re like “it used to be that the crew all had each other’s backs no matter what and things were better back then” while reminiscing fondly about 1. olu and 2. that shot from season 1 where the whole crew is hanging out except for izzy who’s sulking in the background hating everyone. if this was supposed to be an “izzy’s a dick but we love him anyway” moment i would expect jim to talk about. yknow. izzy. instead to me ot comes across more like an “izzy’s a dick but crew is crew, we stick up for each other even if we don’t particularly like each other bc it’s us against the world” which isn’t as impactful from an izzy stanning perspective but i think makes for, like, an interesting allegory abt the queer community. we all gotta defend the rights of ppl in our community even if those specific ppl are dicks and we don’t get along with them.

second of all. after they save izzy’s life and get caught by ed they all leave the room and then a few minutes later a gun goes off. maybe someone saw ed leave the room before the shot was fired, but either way they think either ed just killed izzy or izzy just killed himself. and then they DO NOTHING ABOUT THIS. nobody checks on the body. they put all this effort into saving izzy’s life and then when their efforts are foiled they do not seem that bummed out about it. the next scene with any crew member in it is frenchie talking to ed on deck, and ed is like “go take the day off” and frenchie is like “oh nice!” and he’s like, confused and a little concerned about ed suddenly steering the ship rlly erratically, but he also seems pretty excited about getting some time off (after so many raids in a row i would be too lol). and THEN!!! in the next scene where we get the whole crew, they’re crowded in the hallway that leads out to the deck and the conversation they have isn’t “oh my god i can’t believe ed killed izzy after we cut off izzy’s leg” it’s “maybe ed’s better now? maybe killing izzy was all it took? he seems pretty cheerful for the first time in ages, maybe ed’s okay?” like literally they think ed just killed izzy and they are more worried about ed’s emotional state than they are grieving a beloved shipmate

then in 2.04 the crew B plot is so blatantly “the crew struggles to trust each other again but after seeing izzy be incredibly sad and pathetic they remember that a good crew has each other’s backs no matter what and so they extend izzy some unearned kindness and make him a new leg” that i’m amazed that other interpretations even exist. like literally they’re all drawn away from screaming at each other with weapons drawn by izzy making some dramatic announcement and then falling and then drunkenly crawling away and refusing their help rambling “youre born alone you die alone” over and over again or whatever melodramatic bullshit he said. like he’s muttering abt being miserable and alone and there’s a WHOLE ROOM OF PEOPLE!!! standing RIGHT THERE!!!! like “oh hey man do you need help standing up? no? no ur just gonna crawl away? um. ok.” and then they all go “well at least we’re not as fucked up as that guy. maybe we should do something nice for him?” like they are literally almost explicitly motivated by pity, not fondness. which yeah, it’s probably fucked up the way they use izzy’s new disability to sort of emphasize how pathetic he’s being, but i think the intention there is not that izzy’s pathetic bc he’s disabled, he’s pathetic bc he’s refusing to accept help. like the crew doesn’t go “yikes 😬 at least we don’t have his issues” abt izzy falling down when his makeshift prosthetic breaks, they go “yikes 😬” when he bats away their hands and goes on a weird mumbling tirade. definitely not the most sensitive way to depict izzy in this mental state, but that’s a different post probably. for the sake of THIS post tho: the takeaway i got from this scene is that the crew is remembering how to be there for each other again. it’s easier for them to let go of their paranoia and stop being so defensive and distrustful when izzy is there as an example of what happens when you’re TOO defensive and distrustful. “the crew makes a leg for izzy bc they care about him on a personal level” did not seem to be the focus of that story arc. to me.

in 2.05 we get our first ever instance of a character expressing appreciation for something izzy said or did or some trait he expressed (except for stede that time in 1.06 when izzy backed stede up on wanting to do a fuckery, which he only did specifically bc he wanted stede to fucking die and ed was taking too long), and it’s lucius saying he loves the shark izzy whittled. but during the entire episode leading up to that scene izzy is either in syede’s storyline where he’s not engaging with the crew or he’s getting snarked at by lucius, and not in a fun teasing way. like during that whole bit where izzy steals his cigarettes and calls him “twatty” lucius just looks so fucking annoyed and then uncomfortable. and then at the end of the episode izzy is sort of offering him advice and lucius is just sarcastically like “that sounds healthy.” and within this storyline, the point of these scenes isn’t rlly abt the developing and deepening relationship btwn izzy and lucius, it’s abt lucius individually coping w his trauma. izzy in this episode kinda exists in a weird place in the narrative, where he plays a supporting role in two different characters’ (lucius’s and stede’s) storylines without getting a central arc for himself. and both of those two storylines are only really about lucius and stede respectively, izzy is just there as this a static character who imparts wise advice. which is a very weird role for him to take, imo, but on top of that it doesn’t rlly contribute any sense of like, actual bonding btwn izzy and the other two.

and in 2.06 they just enjoy the show izzy puts on. they like listening to him sing. it’s all very cute! but also. i would not say that it shows the crew really cares about izzy?? i was in pit orchestra in high school and all the lead theater kids were always fucking assholes but they were also rlly good singers and it was fun to listen to them. i would mouth along to the words being sung by bitches who seemed to be trying to be sharpay evans irl for some bizarre fucking reason. like, cartoonishly mean girls. so like, the crew listening and dancing to izzy’s song doesn’t rlly sell “the crew loves izzy” to me. if anything, i would say that actually a stronger indicator of the crew loving izzy would be wee john sharing his makeup, and it’s a shame that we don’t get to see this happen. i mean that genuinely, i think that would’ve been a great moment to rlly strengthen izzy’s arc and it just. doesn’t exist on screen. and this isn’t like the finale where we know for a fact that they had to force a 40-minute episode into 30 minutes, Calypso’s Birthday has a runtime WELL under 30 minutes. it would’ve been SO easy to add another like 45 seconds of izzy and wee john getting ready together, but the only moment they show us is izzy walking in and discovering drag for the first time. it feels like the focus of this scene is less about a moment of connection between two characters and more about izzy individually having a gender breakthrough—and that carries on with the rest of the performance, too. bc it’s a performance, it’s everyone looking at izzy, it’s izzy a half step away from the crew as he puts on a show. the narrative framing of all this puts the focus entirely on izzy as a solo act, not on izzy as part of the crew. they like his performance, but we aren’t rlly shown evidence of the crew liking him as a person.

and that’s kinda it for izzy and the crew! up until he’s actively dying in ed’s arms and they’re all in the background silently weeping, at least (and btw, speaking from experience but uhhhh it’s pretty normal to cry when u watch someone die even if u have literally no connection to the person dying). even when they’re helping him back to the ship, ed is the one who notices he’s injured, nobody notices until he’s already giving izzy support. and i fully believe roach flips off izzy’s grave marker with fondness, but that’s also like. the only little personal moment any of them aside from ed has during the funeral. they do all laugh at his pinocchio joke earlier in the ep but idk if that one line can carry the entire weight of “the crew loves izzy” on its own. apparently there’s some shots during the zheng v stede fight where izzy can be seen in the background close to jim and archie??? but like, you can’t tell me a background shot of izzy standing near some crew members is strong textual support for the crew loving him. and i don’t think i need to argue abt any scenes in s1 bc literally every single crew member who was on that boat, ivan and fang included, was about to fucking drown him in the fucking ocean.

there is one single scene that gives actual strong evidence that anyone other than ed likes or cares about izzy. it’s the part at the end of impossible birds when fang is crying after ed shot izzy. so maybe fang specifically loves izzy, even tho izzy used to pull fang’s beard a lot and fang didn’t like it bc it hurt. idk.

here’s the thing tho. in 2.01 the writers use dialogue very effectively to tell us about the kraken era. the crew doesn’t say much, but what the do say tells us a lot: we know that archie thinks the kraken era is all normal pirating stuff, jim felt like the wedding raid (which seems like their only raid on a civilian ship and not a military one) was a step too far, frenchie is Not Okay but he’s doing a fantastic job repressing everything, izzy looks tired but the specific thing echoing in his head right before he starts crying in front of the crew is ed telling him “if you can’t do the job, someone else will.”

and we know fang, who’s known ed for decades, has never seen ed like this. and the specific thing he mentions as something he’s never seen from ed before is not batting an eye when ivan died. meaning that even before meeting stede, fang would’ve expected ed to have some sort of reaction to ivan dying.

and the thing about ivan is that we know next to nothing about him. he has very little dialogue in season one. we don’t even know how long he’s been working with ed—long enough to have at least heard about fang having to put his dog down bc “the love of a pet makes a man weak” when fang joined ed’s ship years ago, even if ivan wasn’t actually there yet at the time—but we do know that watching ed tell ghost stories was apparently the most open and available he’d ever seen ed get. so it doesn’t sound like ivan and ed were especially close. ivan was almost certainly less close to ed than izzy was.

if fang expected to see ed have some sort of reaction to the death of an ordinary crew member (who mightve been working for ed for decades, might’ve been working for him for months, we really can’t say) who wasn’t even that close to ed, seeing ed casually and unflinchingly inflict a life-threatening gunshot to his first mate must’ve been fucking earth-shattering. and interpretation is also supported by what fang actually says while he’s crying at the end of 2.01—it’s not “i can’t stop crying, izzy’s hurt” or “i can’t stop crying, izzy’s going to die.” its “i can’t stop crying, ed shot izzy.” more than the imminent demise of a crew member, fang is shaking and sobbing and traumatized because he can’t believe ed would do that.

and if that feels like a reach, just remember what happens after the leg is cut off, after the crew most likely believes ed shot izzy again, this time 100% fatally: the whole crew is crowded in the hallway, and fang asks “do we think he’s… better?”

fang is not sad about izzy. or if he is, it’s dwarfed by how much more sad fang is about ed.

in conclusion: have fun with ur headcanons i am not the boss of you but also there is less canonical textual evidence of the crew loving izzy than some of y’all seem to think k byeeeee

[fanaticsnail]

Snail,,,,,

It's been a low swing so I haven't been interacting as much but know that I love you and you bring joy everytime you appear on my dash

I did get a creative burst recently so have some domestic / acts of love headcanons for *spins wheel* Dracula Mihawk!

Receiving:

- shaving his beard

- the greatest swordsman knows how to wield blades but let's you do it anyway

- he likes the intimacy and trust of allowing you to hold a blade so close to his throat

- he also thinks you're hot when you hold blades, something he has sculpted himself to be the master of

- some kind of almost submission where he gets aroused by being a master swordsman, having spent his whole life sculpting his body to wield blades with the utmost pinnacle of precision and power, and sitting beneath you as he lets you (less skilled) wield a blade against him. Especially as he watches you improve; steadier, more confident and precise as time passes. But he would dare admit an arousal he can't put a name to or explain

- he gets to stare at your concentrated face without being too weird/overt. (Usually it's "Mihawk what do you think of these earrings?" 👁️ 👁️)

Giving:

- buying you souvenirs from his travels

- he personally doesn't like knick knacks or novelties, but he likes to let you know he's thinking of you in every moment

- and it's a way to keep you in his thoughts, bringing you with him for his sake and yours on his trying journeys

- oh the cross guild meeting gave him a preemptive hangover? At least he gets to spend an hour picking something out for his darling

- even if you don't like touristy things, he takes notice of what it is you do like and gets you that (e.g, perfume, jewellery, foods)

- the act of knowing you is another one of his love languages

Reciprocated:

- pouring eachothers wine/drink

- it's literally the same amount of effort for him to pour yours and you to pour his as it would be to do it yourselves, perhaps even more

- but he just loves it

- it's the small act of service without the pressure of grandeur that he revels in. He would level ships if you asked. You would freeze hell over so he didn't sweat in his jacket when he went down there. But you both don't have to go to those lengths to appreciate each other and know/feel appreciated

- coordinating outfits

- he gets to show you off while still staking a claim

- ties into bringing you things he thinks you'll like, he gets to show off how well he knows his partner by getting them something tailor-made with the right measurements and style

OH MY GOSH ITS SNAIL!!! HI!!!

Oh, I missed you so, so much. I am glad you're back, my love.

That image of Mihawk's yellow eyes lovingly falling half-lidded as he submits to the handle of his lover's blade has me in a choke hold. I am obsessed with this. Beautiful analysis of shared love languages. You're amazing, and you always come through when I need you, Snail.

Literally today, my sister was bullying me into the final chapter of Sapsorrow and I needed a little shove more to get me there. I will be looking at this whimsically while I fixate on it 🖤.

Thank you for sharing your creative burst with me 🖤🖤

[feralbutfluffy]

56: Crowley

Chapter 56 of Too Wise to Woo Peaceably

*******

Crowley had opened his mouth and then found himself completely incapable of closing it again. 

Spurred by the stifling silence, he’d unwittingly opened an artery and watched helplessly as every last wounded, heartsore, mortifying thought came pouring out of him. He had committed the sort of emotional seppuku he had been carefully avoiding for literally thousands of years, and he felt like he might be bleeding out right there on the sofa.

He had spent much of the previous five minutes wishing desperately that Muriel might conveniently appear at the door with an obscene amount of wine, or at the very least a couple of bottles of Talisker.

However, just as he’d been wondering if it was possible to discorporate from abject discomfort, Aziraphale had finally said something, and even though he’d had to go and be infuriatingly circumspect about it... Crowley was pretty sure the words he had strung together had meant I love you too.

Which seemed impossible, but he supposed he would just add it to the increasingly lengthy list of impossible things that had happened lately.

Aziraphale was turned towards him. A tear dropped from his jawline as he gave Crowley a wobbly smile that did things to his insides. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was crushing Aziraphale’s little finger and, with considerable effort, forced himself to relax his hand.

Crowley wanted to look away, because this - whatever this was - was painfully intimate. It was galling, really. Barely touching and he felt as if the angel had zipped him open at the throat, exposing every part of him.

Except, well, he’d been the one to do that to himself, hadn’t he?

Here, he might as well have said. Ruin me.

He watched Aziraphale warily, and in response the angel shuffled closer, banging their knees together clumsily. 

Crowley didn’t so much as blink.

He’d said everything he had wanted to say. He had also said everything he hadn’t wanted to say. He was cracked wide open, head swimming, waiting. Waiting to know what happened next, waiting for Aziraphale to say more, and he was good at waiting, he’d waited for so long, a few more minutes shouldn’t feel so excruciating.

But they did.

Aziraphale looked away and the fingers of his free hand fluttered nervously against the suede of the sofa.

“I have some things to say too, I suppose,” he started, and his voice sounded higher than usual, tight with strain. He coughed lightly, managing to get it back down to its usual register. “I think I’ve rather been getting in my own way when it comes to…” he tilted his head towards Crowley, still avoiding his gaze. “... us .”

Crowley took a deep breath and held it, feeling a bit like he was preparing to be held underwater.

“I think- Well all of those things you said, they're as true for you as they are for me, but I- I think- Ah, I suspect maybe I chose not to think on it, because I wasn’t quite brave enough to face the truth of the matter. Which is…” he trailed off. “Well, you know.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. If he thought he was going to get away with-

“That I’m hopelessly in love. With you.” The words sounded torn from his chest, “...Too.”

Crowley bit down on his tongue; the urge to yell ‘No takebacks!’ was almost overwhelming.

“I thought if I could just get you to dance with me-”

Crowley’s eyebrows slammed together. “What?”

“I thought we might do some formal dancing, and then we would realize that we were actually in love...” Aziraphale looked guilty. "... Like in Jane Austen's novels."

Crowley narrowed his eyes.

“I know I’ve said this before, but you read” - grumbled Crowley in an exasperated tone - “entirely too many books. How was I meant to pick up on that? Why couldn’t we have managed it without the formal dancing?”

Aziraphale shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! But we didn’t, did we? Manage it, I mean.”

“Didn’t even manage it with the formal dancing,” Crowley pointed out, and Aziraphale’s face crumpled a bit. He nudged the angel’s knee with his own and leaned in. “You never know, might have worked without the demons trying to storm the shop.”

Crowley seriously doubted it, but Aziraphale brightened at the thought so he let it go.

“You know,” said Aziraphale, and he lowered his gaze, “I did try to show you.”

“Show me what?”

The angel was tracing a line along the suede, watching the velvety nap alternate between dark and light as he rubbed it one way and then the other.

“That I felt for you. That you were important to me. That I loved you, before I consciously knew that I loved you.”

The way he said it, the way he let it roll almost casually out into the air between them, made Crowley’s ribcage feel like a vice, his heart and lungs squeezed in a punishing grip.

“Ngk?” he said. 

It was an embarrassingly inelegant sound.

“With the tartan,” Aziraphale said, as if it were perfectly obvious.

Crowley blinked and then pointed, bewildered, at the folded blanket on the armrest. 

“The blanket?”

“No, the tartan .” Aziraphale was frowning, as if Crowley was being intentionally dense.

“I don’t follow. You’ve lost me. Are you speaking in code? Are you saying ‘tartan’ and actually meaning something else entirely?”

“No,” said Aziraphale, looking flustered, “I’m saying ‘tartan,’ and meaning ‘tartan’.”

The -you idiot was silent, but Crowley heard it all the same.

“Don’t you know anything about tartan?”

Crowley stared at him for the longest moment. “No,” he said slowly, “No, I do not. Why would I? In over six thousand years, when have you ever known me to willingly wear tartan? And don’t even think of mentioning the tartan collar, that does not count thankyouverymuch, that was you. As me. But still you.”

Aziraphale huffed and sat back a bit, clearly put out. “Never mind then.”

“No, no. No. You’ve somehow - against stacked odds, let me tell you - managed to make tartan sound intriguing,” Crowley said. “So you may as well tell me. Consider me interested. What should I know about tartan other than the fact that you have a disproportionate fondness for it?”

A pink flush was spreading up Aziraphale’s neck. 

It was delightful.

It made Crowley want to kiss it.

“Forget I mentioned it,” the angel muttered, turning more pink by the second.

Crowley grinned. “Oh, I think the chances of my forgetting any part of this enchanting conversation are abysmally low. Go on, torture me with tartan facts.”

Aziraphale blanched at the word ‘torture’ and Crowley grimaced apologetically. “Too soon. Right.” 

He eyed the angel’s bow tie with an entirely new and unfeigned interest. 

“So. Tartan…?” he prompted.

Aziraphale straightened the bow tie unnecessarily, as if his hands needed something to do. 

“This is, ah- That is to say, I had this dress tartan made for me sometime around the mid-1800s. It’s mine. It’s unique.”

“Right.” 

The pink hue was back in Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“Different families - different clans - they each have their own unique tartan.”

“Different people, different tartan. Got it.” Crowley gave him a nod.

“Yes. Well, different clans or families, different tartan, but yes, basically. I couldn’t, for example, wear another clan’s tartan without their express permission, because wearing it is something of a claim; using their tartan would then, er, mark me as belonging to their clan, you see.”

Aziraphale gazed meaningfully at Crowley and waited.

Right. Clearly he was meant to have gleaned something important from that bit of information. 

His eyes moved from Aziraphale’s face to his bow tie, and from his bow tie to the blanket. 

He thought about the tartan collar Aziraphale had added to his jacket when they had swapped forms. He thought of the tartan thermos full of Holy water. He thought of the absolute eyesore of a tyre cover the angel had miracled onto the car after they’d been hit by that woman in Tadfield.

“Your tartan,” Crowley said carefully. “... You let me use it.”

Aziraphale said nothing, but the pink in his cheeks had spread to the tips of his ears.

“You were marking me as belonging to your… clan?” Crowley could feel his cheeks warming. 

A matching flush. How perfectly wretched.

Aziraphale gave him a lopsided smile. “Something like that, I suppose. Our… team. Our group of the two of us.”

“Ah, so you were listening,” Crowley said uncomfortably.

Aziraphale blushed pink all the way up to his hairline.

With considerable effort, Crowley sat up properly. He shifted over, twisting his torso so that their bodies were in alignment, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. 

“Well.”

“Well,” repeated Aziraphale weakly.

“Well I’m sorry to have missed your demonstrations of affection delivered through the medium of tartan,” said Crowley with a wry grin.

The angel looked at him, embarrassed. “Yes, yes. Very funny.”

Crowley bumped him with his shoulder. “Maybe try something a bit more straightforward next time. Or at least work with something I actually understand."

There was a brief pause and then Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, his lips curling up at the corners. "Oh?"

"What, 'oh'? What does that mean?"

"I think I know what you understand," said Aziraphale, and the embarrassment was gone from his face. Crowley pulled back slightly, watching the angel carefully.

"What?"

His heart stuttered and took up an absolutely frenzied pace as Aziraphale leaned forward to take his face in his hands.

He eyed him suspiciously. "Are you about to kiss me?"

Aziraphale laughed and his eyes dropped to Crowley's lips, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Not just yet."

Crowley couldn't take his eyes off him. He felt like his heart might burst. Aziraphale was stroking his thumb softly against his skin.

"Anthony Just-a-J-Really Crowley, I'm in love with you," he said, and kissed his temple so gently Crowley had to swallow down a cry.

"I've loved you for a very long time," Aziraphale whispered against his ear. He kissed his forehead, and turned his thoughts into incoherent nonsense.

"A very, very long time," Aziraphale murmured against his other ear and nipped his earlobe, sending a jolt of undiluted desire straight up his spine. 

"I'm sorry it took me such a long time to be honest with myself," he said, kissing the serpent by the hinge of his jaw. Crowley shuddered. He let out a harsh exhale as his eyes closed of their own volition.

"... And I'm sorry it took me such a long time to be honest with you," he said, kissing the corner of Crowley's mouth. He groaned and turned to kiss the angel, but Aziraphale pulled out of reach. 

Crowley opened his eyes, dazed, to find Aziraphale looking at him with adoring eyes, a coy half-smile on his lips. He struggled to swallow, his throat tight with longing.

"I know you said I go too fast for you, angel," he rasped, "but this is painfully slow. Are you trying to discorporate me?"

Aziraphale frowned slightly, but he was still smiling. "I'm almost certain that's not possible."

"Let's not find out."

Aziraphale's laugh was muffled by Crowley's lips against his.

[666writingcafe]

The Chamber

Trigger Warning: mentions of not being alive

Thirteen

I should have gone to sleep hours ago, but instead I'm still on my tablet, watching everyone solemnly approach the life candles.

I didn't realize life candles were so pretty. They almost look like jewels.

I'm honestly surprised that MC is still talking to me after Lucifer basically threatened me. I thought he would have scared them into silence.

They're made from essence of life. Each candles is unique to the individual it's assigned to.

"I found our candles!" Belphie, now a purple Little D, exclaims. Sure enough, the brothers' candles are on screen. They really do suit their personality to a tee.

Well, except for the one that's nearly burned all the way down. That must be Beelzebub's.

It looks like it could go out any minute.

At the rate it's burning through essence, he'd be lucky if it lasts another ten minutes.

The others must know how serious this situation is, for they share knowing glances. Silently, Lucifer approaches his candle, picks it up, and pours some of his essence into Beel's. The remaining brothers follow suit.

"Why did you guys shorten your life span?" Beel asks. Lucifer turns to his brother and replies,

"The seven of us have lived for so long, and we've got an impossibly long life ahead of us as well. In the long run, this essence of life is just a drop in the ocean."

"I...I don't know what to say..."

"I wouldn't celebrate quite yet," Solomon interjects. "Your candle is still burning as fast as before, which means that your brothers' contribution only gives us some temporary peace of mind. We're not out of the woods."

Where's my candle?

Fuck. I know they're not asking that merely out of curiosity.

What's with you, MC?

Tell me where my candle is.

Why do you feel the need to sacrifice yourself?

No response. I knew it.

A human life is much shorter than a demon's. You could easily give up a quarter of your life if you're not careful.

I shouldn't even be alive, Thirteen.

Your candle says otherwise.

Does that trump the universe?

What in the hell are you talking about?

You said that you heard so much about me. Did anyone happen to mention that I'm the cause of all the weird phenomena that's been happening in the three realms lately?

You're being dramatic.

No, I'm not, Thirteen. A human should not have the amount of magical power that I do, and the universe knows it, which is why things are literally falling apart. My power is too difficult to control, despite everyone's best efforts, including mine.

It is not your time, MC.

I will only ask you this one more time. Where. Is. My. Candle?!

God, I can't believe they're this hardheaded. They're just as bad as Lucifer!

Wait.

That's why I'm so drawn to MC. They're just like Lucifer.

I wonder...

It's between Beelzebub's and Belphegor's.

That's all you had to say. Was that so difficult?

I watch as a single drop of MC's essence of life causes Beel's candle to shoot a flash a bright white light towards the ceiling before returning to its original state.

That tells me everything I need to know. They are the rightful heir.

I shut off my tablet and begin packing my things. I need to return home and begin looking for the bloody thing. I know it's in the cave somewhere, but it's been so long ago since I tucked it away that it's going to take me a while to find it.

[isthisamew]

i'm gonna put this in its own post cus this is gonna be a fair amount of Words. thank you for enabling me @theslime

there's two parts to this. there's the stubborn reason why i even started putting milk first into cereal, and then there's the practical reason why i haven't switched since.

the origin story

feel free to skip this part, but i found it quite fascinating (and pretty funny) to realize why i had started in the first place.

i was a wee child, with parents who very much appreciated every ounce of independence i could muster in daily routines. one of the things i learned to do fairly young was pour myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast every morning. and every morning, i had to eat that cereal while watching cartoons in the living room, obviously.

i had weak little baby arms, and my parents only ever bought the full gallon of milk. after some trial and error, i figured out the optimal steps to make only a single trip between the living room and the kitchen, while also minimizing the amount of heavy lifting i had to do when that gallon was mostly full. it was as follows:

bring the bowl and spoon to the fridge

pour the milk into the bowl. add in the spoon

grab the cereal box

very, VERY carefully walk from the kitchen to the living room with a full bowl of milk and an arm full of cereal box

i need to mention: this bowl of milk was Full. i was a growing creature, and i ate two as-much-as-i-can-fit bowls of cereal for years and years. i needed enough milk to satisfy this intense Hunger.

i spilled a lot of milk, y'all. fluid mechanics was something i was learning about the hard way in these moments. but i was determined. i was dead set on perfecting my technique because i never wanted to do two trips ever again.

this was my villain milk-first origin story. i put my blood, sweat, and tears into my methodology. and honestly, the thought of switching to cereal-first was painful in a sunken cost kind of way. i achieved the perfect milk-to-cereal ratio; switching would require relearning it. but i'm nothing if not a person who values reconsidering my habits and putting in the effort to change them if they will serve me better. and as someone who still eats cereal every single day as an adult, any change to my cereal ways would have a profound impact on me.

after careful consideration, i determined that milk first is superior, regardless of my emotional attachment to it.

why milk first is superior, regardless of my emotional attachment to it

it all boils down to a single factor: maximum cereal crunchiness.

i have heard of people eating their cereal in warm milk. i did it once, and never fucking ever again because i simply cannot stomach the MUSH cereal turns into upon CONTACT with warm milk. if you eat cereal with warm milk, i will not cast judgement on you as many have for my milk-first ways. but you do not belong in this conversation, bcus it literally doesn't matter which order you put the milk in. (if a warm-milker reads this and disagrees, i'd love to hear about it. genuinely.)

i value crunch. crunch gives me joy. most mornings these days, i wake up food-averse. the crunch of cereal is an important tether keeping me from skipping breakfast. i know that even if the thought of eating food is making me nauseous, once i feel the crunch of cereal, everything will be okay.

the moment cereal touches milk, its time is numbered. fully submerged cereal can lose its crunch within seconds, depending on the brand. even being partially submerged is enough to start the clock. keeping as much of it as dry as possible is so, so important if you want to maintain Crunch.

and the key is putting milk first. when cereal is poured on top of milk, there is a much larger layer of dry cereal than if it was done the other way around. (as much as i want to, typing out the physics behind this phenomenon is too daunting for me. but i think it's intuitive enough that you know this to be true, right??)

strategy is also important. i eat a bowl of cereal like a cake: cutting through the layers from top to bottom. this means each spoonful has a mixture of soggy cereal that's been submerged, and the fresh, dry cereal that's been sitting on top of it. for cereal that's had milk poured second, that cut-through ratio can be as bad as 75% soggy, 25% dry. with milk first, that ratio is closer to 50/50, sometimes better. it's sublime. knowing how good it can be makes turning back impossible.

i'm not trying convert anyone to the milk-first way. it just feels nice to finally write out my thoughts on it. i don't understand the animosity i receive when people find out i do it, but maybe now i'll link them to this essay so they can better understand my dark, twisted mind.

[pebblestar]

Raphael x reader

| Rottmnt ver |

• You hang around Raphael very often- Standing to one side of the giant turtle and most of the time you follow him around the lair and often watch him train.

• Ngl he probably doesn't notice at first. He probably just assumes that your curious of what he's doing.

• But when raph actually notices that you stick to his side (especially when he's not doing anything too important) He starts to get a bit confused.

• Then he becomes a bit worried that something might've happened.

• Are his brothers making you uncomfortable? Did you need something from him?

• but no... you seemed to just stand near him or rather sit someplace not too far away from him.

• While originally he'd thought his brothers had did something to make you uncomfortable, he realized that wasn't the case- Shell you'd hang around his brothers a good amount but maybe not as much as you hung around the turtle in red.

• It gets the point where a joke is made by Donnie; about how your like a baby chic who just so happened to imprint on the giant turtle because he was the closest.

• It was amusing to say the least but curiosity wins Raphael over and he decides to finally ask you

• "Why do you do that...?"

• "Huh?" You glance up from the book your reading, Noticing how he's looking at you with curiously.

• "Well your always followin me around... Are my brothers making you uncomfortable?"

• At that, you nervously look away from him before closing the book.

• "This is going to sound stupid, But... Your comforting to be around. You just.... radiate older brother vibes and since my brother and I don't get along uh well..."

• You trail off as you fidget with your hands.

"Sorry. That must be so weird to hear-"

• He's definitely tearing up at that

• You think of him as an older brother?!? Someone whose presence is incredibly comforting to be around???

• He feels so happy to hear you say that- And also relieved that his own brothers weren't bothering you either.

• Needless to say, He's quick to tell you that he doesn't mind you hanging around him at all.

• Also he's 100% supportive of what you do (not to say he wasn't before, but definitely ups the ante)

• Passing that test that you've been dreading?

• Or maybe you've finished working on a project you've been passionate about?

• Whatever it is Raphael will definitely let you know just how proud he is of you, Going as far to ruffle your hair with a grin or bringing you a celebratory snack.

• At one point you'd definitely start crying when he goes on to gush over the project you've been on for literal years- Since so many others have told you to quit or have shown disinterest, it honestly made you happy that someone was showing you that all the effort you've poured into this project hadn't been for nothing.

• You can bet he'll immediately comfort you, And while hesitant at first to hug you bc he's a big spikey turtle and your but a small human- The fear dissipates when you make the move to wrap your arms around raph in a tight hug.

• all in all, he's a good older brother figure who'll have your back no matter what 👌

(( whew,,, ok I've never written for Rottmnt yet! so sorry if it's ooc- but I definitely want to try my hand writing more rottmnt going in the near future :]

[jksian]

Umm if you have study tips can u share them? Im literally gonna fail upcoming exam I feel it in my boobs 😭

In your WHAT!? lmao😭 I was malfunctioning after reading that💀 anyways....

So, the thing is that I wasn't very consistent during my college years tbh💀 like I didn't study everyday for couple of hours as most of the people suggests but still, I achieved a pretty good grade and was on the list of top students when I graduated (I graduated last year)

So, if you're thinking you're gonna fail, you are WRONG. I believe you can still make it!

So, what I did was, I used some study techniques. Which was -

Pomodoro method - well, I think it's pretty common now days. Every other student know about this I think? Basically, you study for half an hour *based you attention span because if it's short, you probably won't be able to focus for that long AT FIRST* then take 10 minutes of break and again continue it. I did it and my attention span grow much better after doing it a few times!

Warning: do not use social media or any other things where you can be distracted easily while you're on a break. Take a walk or listen to music or any other relaxing thing where you brain can adjust to the information you just consumed.

Music: music is something I listen to everyday and it helped me soooo much during my exams! NOT ANY CATCHY SONGS AND DEFINITELY NOT BTS OR KPOP🚫 do not listen to the songs to which you can dance, WE AREN'T HERE TO DANCE! we are here to study. When I said music, I meant instrumental and classic one! Listen to ambient music, piano mixed with rain sounds which will help to focus on your tast. There are some Gama sounds or something on YouTube I listened to, I don't remember💀 but listen to the music where you won't be distracted and your brain will be relaxed and help you to calm yourself so that you can focus more. Whenever I panicked about 'oh no I don't have time' or 'i won't be able to complete it' I just put some classic instrumental music on shuffle and immediately my mind relaxed. It was so helpful!

Focus: Now, ofcourse you know that you have to focus but you just.... can't, right? Yeah, that happened to me too! But, a little amount of focus right now can maybe make your life better. Maybe, if you get good grades you'll be able to go to your desired uni or your dream job or your life will be so good! I'm not saying that your grades can decide your future but what's so harmful about trying and giving your best, right? You know what you have to do to focus, hide your phone or any other distractions bla bla bla.... Everyone knows but no one applies because our brain can't let us, so tell me, why you're letting your brain control your actions? Wouldn't you be the one who will control your brain instead?

Remember, your little efforts today can make your tomorrow better.

Lastly, don't stress yourself out. Don't pressure yourself much. Don't worry. It'll be okay. The more you think 'Oh I'll fail' or 'I can't make it' or 'I don't have enough time' it will menifest in real life, instead focus on the tasks you have in-hand right now, make a strategy, devide those chapters, put some small challenges for yourself like 'I will complete this chapter in ____ amount of time' and focus on completing it and reward yourself afterwards with some food or a break.

Also, never forget to take proper amount of sleep. Let your brain rest and consume those knowledge you just pour into it all together because, now if I make you eat some food forceful and don't give you proper time to digest, you will have digestive problems or gas or even worse. Your brain is just like that. It needs nurturing just like any other part of your body.

Lastly drink water to keep yourself hydrated and eat your meals because if you don't even have nutrients and minerals in your body, how it will function properly? Then also, you brain won't be able to work.

So take care of yourself, focus, study and believe in yourself! I know you can do it.😊

Best wishes for you!🤍🌸

[gaslysgirl]

girlie you and I know well that cowboy!Mick would lead to the best sex ever... like those new pictures from the recent photoshoot?? goddamn I'm available 24/7

Jesus take the wheel 😮‍💨 I just went for a full on cowboy!mick AU

“Look who’s there,” your colleague nudges your side as you pour Jack Daniel's into a glass with ice cubes, the ice crackling slightly. You briefly look up, your cheeks heating up, but you don’t let it show as you put the glass on the counter for the man who ordered. He leaves some dollars and you take them. “You can’t leave a thirsty man hanging, babe,” your colleague says, and you watch Mick approach the bar, the tight jeans looking good on him as ever, his white shirt pulling taut around his muscled upper body. He tips his hat to greet some people he knew, and with the cowboy boots on his feet, you have to take a deep breath and lean on the bar for a second as you watch him come closer. Mick’s parents own the bar, so literally all he has to do to come here is walk down the road.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Mick greets you, giving you the blinding smile all Schumachers had. “Hi,” you reply, recovering and gathering yourself quickly. “What can I get for ya?” you ask. You gnaw down at your bottom lip as Mick’s eyes glance over your appearance for a second, seeming to like the flannel and the flared jeans you were wearing. “The usual,” he tells you, and you nod with a smile. You reach into the cooler behind you, taking out the beer he usually drinks when he comes here. Most of the times, you were working in the bar when Mick came too, and of course you made the effort to learn what drinks he likes and what he usually drinks.

You take the cap off the bottle and put it in front of him on the bar. “Thanks, baby,” he smiles at you, leaving the amount on the counter, tipping you as he usually does. “What time are you getting off shift?” Mick asks. “In about twenty minutes,” you reply. “What about it?” you ask. “I’ll buy you a drink then,” he smiles. You were counting down the twenty minutes that suddenly seemed to go by so slowly. Your other colleague came to fill up your spot behind the bar, and you were free to go. “Tell me what you’d like to drink,” Mick’s hand slid down to the small of your back. “Same as you,” you respond. “Gina isn’t coming tonight?” you ask, and he shakes his head.

“She’s in Colorado for a competition,” Mick explained. “My mom is with her, so, I’m left behind to take care of the ranch,” he continued, and you nod, clinking your beer bottle against his. So, he has the whole ranch to himself? Interesting... “Don’t you have any plans for tonight?” Mick asks, and you shake your head now. “Nope, nothing on the schedule,” you say. “You can occupy me for as long as you want,” you flirt back, feeling your heart flutter as he grins, baring his pearly white teeth. “Alright, if you say so,” Mick says, his hand slipping in the back pocket of your jeans before he pulls you down to sit on his lap as he sits down too.

There’s a country musician playing on the stage, some women are line dancing, and you clap along to the music while Mick’s hands rest on your thigh. One of your arms drape around his neck, and you lean against his firm chest. A couple of beers later and you’re still glued together. The idea of his house being completely empty sounds more attractive with each minute that passes, and you swear that if he won’t bring it up, you will. You look over at him, your faces close together as he looks back at you. “Do you want to leave?” Mick asks, as if he reads your mind, briefly making you wonder if you said any of your inappropriate thoughts out loud. “Only if I can see the stables,” you reply. “Consider it done, darling.”

You weren’t sure if you thought the night ended up like this, or if you had wished it from the start, but you were definitely not complaining when your back hit the ball of straw beneath you, his lips dominating yours. Mick’s hands were under your flannel, buttons flying from the piece of clothing as he ripped it off your body. Hard breaths and the sounds of the delicious kisses he pressed to your lips were audible in the quiet stables. Only a small light was on, causing him to bathe in the faint orange glow of the lamp. Your back arched a little the second he pulled the cups of your bra under your tits, his fingers rolling over your nipples.

Mick growled at the reaction of your body, his lips skimming down your neck, licking and biting at your pulse while his fingers continued their path down your body. “Fuck, baby,” he breathes, briefly looking up at you, the lust and desire displaying in his eyes. “Is this okay?” He asks, and you whine eagerly. “Please, touch me,” you whimper, a small grin curling his lips. “So polite,” Mick hums, sliding your jeans down your legs, your flimsy panties soon following, you writhe beneath him, eager for his fingers, his mouth, anything. Mick’s hot breath ghosts over your inner thigh, and you gasp as his tongue licks a fat stripe through your folds.

You knock the cowboy hat off his hat, your fingers curling into his blonde strands. “Fuck,” you hum, feeling his tongue caressing your clit, circling around it before sucking the nub of nerve endings into his mouth. Mick looks up at you, moaning back at the way your body reacts. His mouth glides over your wet pussy, savoring your taste. You writhe and moan beneath him, rolling your hips towards his mouth. Mick eats your cunt like a man starved, the wet, slurping sounds causing your face to heat up. Your thighs threaten to close around his head, but his hands firmly push them apart? Spreading you open for him. Mick growls back at you, watching your eyes roll back as you cum on his tongue so sweetly.

He laps up your juices, licking at your thigh before he makes his way back up your body, his hat in his hand. Mick puts it on your head, gnawing down at his lip when you looked at him with such a blissed out expression. “You think you can ride me, baby?” Mick asks, and you nod, a little out of breath, but you’re sure you want to. Within the blink of an eye, you’re turned around and your hips are straddling his. You don’t waste any time to move your hands under his shirts, pulling it from out of his jeans, eager to see the body he was hiding underneath.

Your lifted the piece of clothing over his head, your hands drifting over his taut skin, the supple muscles, his gorgeous abs. Mick shivers at your touch, his abs flexing under your fingertips. You unbuckle his belt, unzip his jeans, watching his hard cock freed from his underwear. Your mouth waters at the sight of the girth, the length, the veins running over it. You spit on your hand before wrapping it around his cock, jerking him a couple of times. You align him with your hole, sinking down on him as your wet pussy envelops around him. “Oh, shit,” Mick grunts, looking at the way his cock disappears in your pussy, your walls gripping him tightly from the start.

You adjust yourself on top of him, your palms planting on his pecs as you start riding him. Mick can’t get enough of the sight of you, watching your curves move, his cowboy hat on your head. His hands wrap around your hips, fingers pressing into them as you moan. His cock is so deep inside you, you don’t ever want him to pull out. You moan and whimper, adjusting your position slightly as the head of his dick hits your g-spot so well. Your pace slows down as your thighs start to tremble, causing his hand to fly to the back of your neck and pull you down, his hips rapidly starting to thrust up into you.

Your lips slam together in a heated kiss, and you moan against his mouth as he is continuously hitting your g-spot. Your fingers move to his face, to his hair, needing him as close as possible when your orgasm will hit you like a hurricane. “Shit, baby,” Mick breaths. “Want me to fill you up?” He asks. “Fill your pussy with my cum?” He continues, the filth coming from his mouth making you whimper even harder, the pleasure filling your body barely making it able for you to respond. “Fuck, yes,” you mewl. “Be a good girl now, princess,” Mick slows down his thrusts, and you let out a cry of his name. “Please, please, fill me with your cum,” you moan, and he can’t deny your sweet prayer, thrusting into you harder, feeling you cum around his cock.

Your pussy convulses so deliciously around him, and he growls loudly as he cums, filling you with his seed. You briefly lose connection with reality, digging your nails into his chest. You were both sweaty, out of breath and panting as you laid there together. Mick slowly pulls out, rolling you to your back to see your mixed juices oozing out of your cunt. He gets up to get some tissues, cleaning you up. You move to grab your flannel and your panties, covering up as the night air in the stables is quite cold. “I suggest we move inside to take a warm shower,” Mick speaks up, the grin on his face and his pulsing cock telling you he’s ready for round two.

[bonesandthebees]

So Rose (the amount of times I typed Glass or even Stars is insane, my brain still needs to adjust to having a new Thing to rant about, but I’ll probably no longer have this issue by chapter 5 or 6).

Anyway, Wilbur being surprised at being required to be at Tommy’s arrival is so much funnier knowing that he’s literally been at every Council meeting to pour wine since he was what? 11? 13? Like he knows so many state secret probably, but he’s still surprised (read: insecure). Though maybe the point is that he’s not normally required to be there.

Also, Sam wanting Wilbur to be there and setting him up as Tomys’ tour guide says a lot about how well of a job Phil is doing in setting Wilbur up to take over. Sam brought Tomys their as a potential heir and not only introduces the son of his Consul to him, he also sets them up with an immediate opportunity to socialise.

Sam, for all his rebelling against Phil’s power over him, still very much trust Phil, to the point of trusting him to make sure his son will be a good Consul too. It’s almost an unspoken truth that Sam wants Wilbur to because the future Consul no matter who he chooses.

And Wilbur already has Niki and Quackity in the bag, but he’s being set up from all sides to get Tomys too. I wonder if Phil tried to push Sam to that, but I feel like he didn’t get the chance too since he’s not supposed to have figured it out.

Either way, with the new knowledge that Wilbur has been observing council meetings for at least 5ish years, it’s very clear that there are little people who would be better at the job than he will be. As Niki says about Tomys, they’d need years of studying to catch up to Wilbur’s level.

And Sam does know that, at least regarding Wilbur. He’s also known Wilbur his entire life, since Phil has always been his Consul. We don’t actually know anything about their relationship, but I think Sam might be fond of him by proxy. Or he’s just always assumed Wilbur will follow in his father’s footsteps. It’s not a desicion he has to make, so he’s not to worried about it.

But he’s still setting Wilbur up for succes, whether through continues effort or not. He Trust him to give Tomys a tour of the places. He almost forgot about it, but it doesn’t really seem like Phil is trying to push him. It’s also obvious he picks Wilbur instead of Quackity or Niki because Wilbur has nothing to loose and he has lived their the longest out of the three of them.

(1/?)

-🎄

lol whoops yes the adjustment period for the new Big Fic is always a fun one

yeah wilbur's surprise about being summoned to the court wasn't because it would be unusual for him to be there, it's just that it's unusual for him to be quite literally required to be there. like, yes he's been the royal cupbearer during council meetings since he was a young teen so he does fully know state secrets, but he's not 'part' of the council and essentially serves no function in court outside of just being the Consil's son, so there's no real reason for him to be present. of course people would be surprised if he wasn't there, again it's just more that it was weird for sam to specifically tell him to show up

hmm did sam have wilbur give tommy a tour for wilbur's benefit, or for tommy's? food for thought

being named the cupbearer for council meetings as a young teen was practically naming him the future consil then and there. usually the role of cupbearer would go to the future heir to the crown, but as we all know sam still hasn't decided who his heir is and he definitely hadn't done so back when wilbur was 13. so (at phil's suggestion) he chose wilbur, knowing the kind of insight it would provide him if he were to become the future consil. and of course, sam wouldn't have done so if he disliked wilbur. he does have a fondness for him in the sense that phil is sam's closest confidant, and in a way his closest friend, and wilbur is the continuation of phil's legacy. he sees a lot of phil in wilbur and wants him to do well.

[leothil]

14, 25, 56 !

Thanks Abby!

14. How often do you take baths?

Any time I get the chance to. See, I don't have a bathtub, so a bath is a form of rare luxury to me, most often experienced in a hotel room.

25. Favorite old person activity?

Answered here, but I'll add gardening to the list!

56. Favorite low-effort meal that you make?

Answered here but I'll give you another relatively low-effort one too: couscous salad! Prepare desired amount of couscous (you literally only have to pour it into boiling water, remove the pot from the stove and let it swell), then mix cucumber, tomato, avocado, and any desired protein and other vegetables into it, along with some olive oil and spices. I usually fry some halloumi and tofu to mix in, and my sister likes adding bell peppers since my nephew doesn't like tomato. Very easy to make a huge batch all at once!

Asks for people in their 30s

[lunaticus-platina]

Werewolf Travis is such a treat to imagine because, well. You know why. Best Boy Travis- coughcoughcough.

Uh, what I mean is, tall + well built + determined is not what you want in your rage-fueled pursuer. I like to think that he's pretty cunning too, like that scene from Jurassic Park where Muldoon tries to shoot Deinonychus then another one pops out of the bush right next to him and he says 'clever girl'. Travis uses his environment well. Blends into surroundings, climb up the trees for better view, when one entrance is blocked look for another etc.

Despite being bigger and more vicious than other werewolves, he's an ambush hunter. Think about his Ninja-level stealth. When he's human it's already impressive, but you won't even see the beast before you feel its maws ripping open your neck. There's also his reflex. He's more of a fucking cat than a pupper if you see how fast he snatches away Laura's wrist from the gun. You fail QTE, Laura attempts to sedate him, Travis blocks her wrist with his forearm. One firm tap! Syringe gone. Fking precise. Always careful, careful, careful. He exerts bare minimum of strength and effort, only the right amount that's needed for the job. His movements are methodical, you see that right? Even the steps look careful. Now imagine how meticulous he could be when hunting his prey.

Another thing, chasing people is his job. Police right? That and 6 years of hunting Silas. You cannot outrun him, especially in the forest. His feet are light as feather, no protruding roots or overhanging branches can deter him. He'll rather toy with you. Why end the fun short? He's been holding back for so long! The curse enables a person's primary side to literally tear out of their civil mask and show itself as a physical manifestation. His Id has been denied for, how long?

We know Travis is hella disciplined, and I love that about him, how hard he works for anything. Family and his job, both he takes so seriously, always putting them before his own needs. Now flip the coin. Werewolf Travis cares about one thing and one thing only: What he wants. Anger him, he kills you. Hungry? Snack time. Hmm bored. He got you in his sight. The hunt is on. Imagine all that dedication poured into his own selfish desire. That is the monster from the old stories right there. Wimpy counselors don't stand a goddamn chance, we need an actual hunter, soldier, any character that knows how to fight and survive.

Also he's a lone wolf. His human side already had enough of his family. You can't tell me he doesn't enjoy the peace and quiet, the freedom and solitude the transformation brings. Near dawn he'll run away, finds a shallow burrow under a tree stump or something, swipe some comfy leaves in there and sleep in his den. Later he finds a dead tree nearby with a small gap in it, hides some spare clothes there so he doesn't have to wake up, wait until night and wander through the forest back home in his birthday suit ever again.

Final boss Travis. God if he were a playable character.....no, no. He's too powerful, best he could be was a support character. At least until dawn characters level badassery is needed to deal with werewolf him. Him being bit at the very end of the game was a small mercy for all of them.

In the route where he got shot in the cell, he was bleeding quite a lot, and yet later he's at family home. Isn't he supposed to like...be resting. Jesus. Carries on like there isn't a bullet hole in him. Got punched the fuck outta his mind by werewolf Laura, hard enough his head got whipped to the side, crashes into a mirror, recovers quickly, grabs a shard, notices it's silver backed, the guy's level-headed alright damn. Arm got munched on, it's shredded, he doesn't scream. He uses that arm like his muscle isn't all torn up and skin chewed open. His pain tolerance is gooood.

I bet if werewolf Travis is charging at you, and you fire a few normal bullets at him, he'll just shrug them off and pounce. If he's close enough he'll just, fucking, dash through the raining bullets, endure a few hits on the way, and kill, unlike other werewolves that are scared away by gunshots. He doesn't whimper, he doesn't whine, or howl. He growls. Snarls. Roars into the night. He's so fucking angry. He'll rip you apart.

[franstastic-ideas]

The Pokemon fandom is ridiculously huge, and it often takes years for people to fall into niche circles and for those fans to start posting on their blogs, until then one is left poking around dead blogs trying to poke some life back into them bc at one point the OP cared about this topic and turns out, they still do! They just gave up from the silence of the void. It's also majorly teenagers everywhere. Very talented artists, great ideas, but Dear Lord Are They Opinionated. And nobody wants to feel shamed by a bunch of teenagers bc they're VERY strict on how someone should read characters and their relationships or darker topics/the villains/taxes (which are literally IN the game and spin-off series themselves) I mentioned taxes there bc I for the life of me cannot find that post talking about the men in black suit trying to collect taxes in ORAS. (I love ORAS it's so fun there is SO much going on. I'm very insane about Pokemon Lore across the first 3 Gen they're my playground. It all connects together, ALL OF IT. NPC dialogue my beloved.) All this to say, I am very happy to see someone just doing their thing online. I literally could care less what someone does but some people will burn you at the stake over it. Sending a bouquet of flowers to you and all your awesome mutuals. You've got an ally and future fan of your AU here for sure.

This unfortunately has been an ongoing issue, and not just in the Pokémon fandom either.

Many artists and writers have stated they practically have to beg for positive feedback on the works they've poured all their passion into, and more people have become entirely too comfortable being entitled and rude to creators.

I write the stories I want to read first and foremost, I am my target audience, but it truly can be disheartening when you've poured a countless amount of time and effort into an idea, and then receive either silence (likes are silence) or hatred.

And it is my deepest regret to inform you that it isn't just teenagers who are behaving this way.

I received harassment not long ago from someone in their twenties for shipping Volo with an aged up Akari. They demanded I pair him with a reader insert or OC instead, as though the protagonists aren't essentially player inserts or OCs with a preset design.

I refused to entertain their nonsense, they threw an even bigger tantrum in response, then I blocked them and happily continued to post about Wieldershipping.

On a lighter note, I was just speaking to a friend of mine the other day about Hikari/Akari being an adult woman in Sisterhood ("She does her Pokémon taxes"), and then we were saying how terrible it would be if not even the world of Pokémon were free from taxes.

It's been a few years since I've played ORAS, so the men in black demanding tax money slipped my mind. Now that it's been mentioned though, I have a vague memory of it being rent money they were trying to collect instead?

But thank you so much Talkative and Mysterious Anon for showing such interest in my ideas! I have plenty more.

[birlwrites]

wait ok so you said in your post about family specialties that even tho regulus doesn't know it yet, his is already impacting how he casts. is that why he's bad at charms? bc from how you've described it so far, the black family magic sounds like it has to be executed very methodically, similarly to how transfiguration works, but charms is a lot more. vague ig. have i put something together?

YES IT IS!!!!!!!! (the post in question)

okay so the specific reason that regulus is bad at charms is due to some very niche charms theory that i made up (coming soon to a chapter 37 near you), but the general idea is that charms are more of a nudge than a shove, magically speaking.

if you throw a shitload of magic at a charm, it's kind of like taking 10 gallons of cereal and throwing them at your cereal bowl - like yeah, some of it is probably going to make it in there, but you're definitely going to end up with cereal all over the floor and you would have been much better off if you had simply opted to carefully pour cereal directly into the bowl. and regulus is wielding far more cereal than the average hogwarts student, but because he doesn't know about this metaphor, he does not know that could be a problem.

the reason this came about is because i was thinking about why charms are a literal entire class at hogwarts - from what we see in the books, charms tend to be 'the random spells class that usually features the chekhov's gun of the book, except in book 3 when harry still learns a chekhov's charm but he learns it from lupin instead'. but 'random spells you might possibly need someday' does not seem like a coherent curriculum, nor does it explain why they had to make pineapples tap dance, so i've concluded that charms, as a class, is actually about how to use your magic

once again, this post got LONG, so we're putting in a cut ajflshgfk

classes like transfiguration and potions are much more about the process of doing complicated magic - problem-solving, in essence. but accidental magical outbursts tend to be pretty uncontrolled, and just handing a kid a wand isn't going to teach them how to use magic effectively, so they have to learn how to apply the right amount of magic to a spell sOMEHOW, and in the bcu (birl's cinematic universe) that's where charms come in

so flitwick is prepared to look at someone casting a charm and say 'that's too much force, reel it in a little', but there are a couple reasons why he hasn't done that with regulus:

regulus is working his ASS off to prevent flitwick from helping him improve his charms (because accepting help is Bad and Not How Blacks Work), which generally includes preventing flitwick from witnessing him cast charms in general

regulus looks like he's casting them correctly

his charms are functional enough that flitwick isn't going to ask him to attend office hours - like sure, there's room for improvement, but it's kind of in the zone of 'he's trying, it's working, he'll ask for help if he wants his charms to be better but they're alright now so it's not like he's failing'

more on point 2: because regulus's difficulty is specifically coming from his extra-strong affinity for a certain dark art that flitwick doesn't know exists, it's not going to show up in the same way that it will for a non-dark student who's just working too hard (and that's what flitwick is looking for). regulus looks like he's putting in the right amount of effort and such - it's just that neither he nor flitwick knows that he's unconsciously directing way too much magic in that direction

flitwick has clocked regulus as someone who is Really Trying, but nothing has exploded, so he's probably fine. to return to the cereal metaphor, usually people who are using too much magic will have the equivalent of launching an incredibly highly pressurized burst of cereal at the cereal bowl, which results in knocking it off the counter, possibly breaking it, and exploding all the cereal into tiny little cereal bits. so THAT'S what flitwick is looking for when he thinks 'student pushing too hard' - he's looking for extra force, not extra magic

compounding the issue, this isn't something that regulus's parents have warned him about as a potential Thing That Might Come Up In Classes, because regulus is genuinely the first person who has had this issue to this noticeable of a degree. affinities get stronger over the generations (see post linked at the top), regulus and sirius have parents who are both blacks and experienced with the family specialty, and because of the extra-strong affinity, regulus and sirius started learning the family specialty younger than most and got good at it really fast. so by the time regulus got to hogwarts, the black specialty was affecting his casting way more than it affected his parents'/previous generations'

but wait, you say! what about sirius? he's older than regulus, so shouldn't he be the first person who's had this issue?

to which i say, sort of? sirius has those same disadvantages when it comes to charms, but he never bought into the perfectionist mindset the same way regulus did, AND he just kind of... approaches things in a chiller way. regulus gets worse at charms the harder he tries (rip dude), while sirius has just....... never *tried that hard* at the practical component of charms. they've been working better for him from the beginning, which means he's confident that they'll work, which means he's very casual about casting them and they do work, and just. feedback loop!

meanwhile, regulus has been spiraling since his very first mediocre wingardium leviosa. so sirius never realized it was an issue in the first place, while regulus thinks he's just. innately bad at charms. of course he's not going to mention this to anyone in his family - which means his family can't help him figure this out

(in the cereal metaphor, sirius is still getting cereal all over the counter - it's just that he's pouring the cereal into the bowl instead of throwing it at the bowl, so the bowl still ends up filled and no one pays attention to the mess. he's got a lot of magic/cereal at his fingertips - losing some excess isn't going to affect him)

more on point 3: because regulus is a black (specifically heir black, and even before then, he was in the main line and thus more visible in the family), flitwick is intentionally being very delicate about offering him help. flitwick is an experienced professor and is fully aware that certain sacred 28 families are very full of themselves and highly disapprove of their scions seeking magical assistance - after all, their blood is so pure, how could they possibly have difficulty with any kind of magic? ESPECIALLY practical components. the expectation is that these are second nature.

so flitwick knows/has guessed that regulus is fighting a battle between 'must get Os' and 'must not admit i am not inherently perfect', and that there's almost certainly heavy parental pressure involved. and as far as flitwick can tell, regulus is doing things pretty much correctly, even if the efficacy of his charms isn't perfect. so flitwick is leaving the ball in regulus's court - if regulus is fine with this state of affairs, then flitwick isn't going to make things harder for him by pointing out in class that Heir Black's Casting Could Be Better. and if regulus isn't fine with this state of affairs, then flitwick's door is open. the quality of his written work helps him scrape together Os on his end-of-year exams, so.

(if regulus paid more attention to the incredibly detailed discussion of charms theory that evan and flitwick often have in class, then he might have put these pieces together himself? but as it is, the last thing regulus wants to do is pay attention to excruciatingly in-depth discussions of charms, so he's going to need a Certain Other Perspective to help him figure out wtf is going on and that his difficulty with charms is in fact something that can be solved)

alright, back to my paper writing - feel free to keep sending in asks! genuinely this is working so well to motivate me ajfslghsklfh i cannot believe i've never tried this before

[bamimi-bami]

Bloody seven hells, I need a damned drink.

Spearsong received a notice from the refugees down in Little Ala Mhigo a day or two ago. Apparently, folks have been dying — frozen solid in the middle of the desert. I'm used to desert nights gettin' a touch cold... but not that bad. Needed a group of folks good at fightin' monsters, and we just so happen to fit that description when we're not slingin' whiskey.

Utayuu gathered Reede, Oaky, and me up to set out and see what we could find out. Glad I suggested takin' some of our signature fire-enchanted whiskey, because when we teleported in I thought we had just returned to Ishgard. Folks all over shiverin' from the snap-chill without the proper clothes, it reminded me of the Brume in Foundation.

Findin' one of the guards, we found out that the deaths spread like some sort of sickness: whoever interacted with the deceased before they went, they were the next to go. With us chattin' up for information, a trinket I found on our last hunt began heatin' up and nearly singed the inside of my pocket. Figuring time was against us, we made our way to the first unfortunate soul's bunk and looked about for clues. Reede, the detective-lad he is, quickly found us a shard of crystal that nearly took his fingers off from the cold. I've got aethersight, so followin' the trail was simple enough after pumping some aether into it.

Followin' it outside, Reede nearly got his head taken clean off by a spear made of ice. We could hardly see from the snowstorm, and the group fought like demons not to get impaled — in the lad's case, literally. Glowin' eyes and such. Never knew he had it in him. Oaky was colder than the snow, however. Lass could pick the spears out of the air and slice them with her sword. Sadly, Uta tryin' to eat one using that blue magic of hers didn't fare too well. Got clocked in the head for her efforts.

With me sniffin' out the trail and everyone helpin' out, we cornered the damned thing to its lair. What was waitin' for us was... well, confusing.

It was a damned snowman.

A snowman! Like the kind you see 'round Starlight celebrations, smilin' face and all. Unnerving. Reede wasn't happy his sister was hurt, so he poured some of our aether-charged whiskey over his blade and nearly put the thing out of its misery before I held him back. That bauble in my pocket from earlier? It was beggin' me to kill the damned thing. Now, I'm not going to start trustin' coins I found sitting in a wyvern's nest — especially ones calling for death and killing. We didn't get much from the creature, other than apparently I've been claimed by some sort of summer spirit and it wasn't all that happy that I came so close with the trinket.

Sadly, before we could press it for more information, Reede struck it down. I think it might have cursed him, screamin' out putting him on a "naughty list" before it gave up the ghost. At least we got a sizable amount of enchanted ice-water for makin' frozen treats over at Spearsong. We all agreed we need to look into this whole situation more, because it feels like these hunts are becomin' connected. Damn astrologians probably laughin' at me right now...

Anyroad, I'm home in Ul'dah in my nice, warm bed. Hopefully, whatever wormed its way into my possession doesn't keep me from gettin' a full night's sleep. Gettin' a drink can wait until tomorrow.

(Screenshot was taken by Reede Gahjewesfv of our confrontation!)

[tetsuro-wulf]

The Wulf's Eye: RP Journal #110 | Corruption Conquered

It feels as though some operations conclude, more seem to surface. An example would be my requested discussion with Marce regarding the incident risen through Ishgard.. which, I'm not surprised he's made the effort to step in. I had expected Natsume to inform him in full about our past investigations within Ishgard, so the want to aid was expected. Marce seemed intent on offering his sister, who is an investigator which.. I had no idea he even had a sister, what a pleasant surprise. It's to be expected that Marce has connections within Ishgard, especially as a lord. But if he was offering, surely I couldn't deny such. My biggest concern at the moment is ensuring not to lead this uprising to my company.

I assured Marce a handful of hunters from the last two Bounty Calls have offered to gain further information, and with the addition of his sister as an investigator within Ishgard digging up what she can on Fraus, well.. things will be in our favor. It's a shame to hear Natsume felt the need to stay with a relative for the time being, but an understandable concern. With the amount of wards, literal spiritual army of my servants, and the relocation.. I will say I'm not too concerned about anyone infiltrating headquarters.

Though, I had more important things than Ishgard to finish. That was my hunt against Takenaka, the lead of the corrupted group of individuals claiming to be "Onmyoji" that intended on snatching beings of Yomi to enhance their power.. and sure enough, upon meeting up with Nagatani and Omoto at my side, we came across their hide out deep within the Isle of Zekki. Takenaka had become a distorted abomination of stolen beings of Yomi, like some sort of overpowered Oni leaking with corruption. His intentions.. well.. all too similar to my father's. He had to be stopped. We poured our everything into that fight.. Any mere mortal could've been killed on the spot, but once again, I was impressed with Omoto's spirit. If this confrontation didn't open my eyes to his desire to change, I don't know what would've. He put himself at risk.. for the sake of the Balance. His heart, truly set ablaze, in the eyes of the monster before us.

And thus, we conquered that monster. Before Takenaka could unleash hell on this realm, we destroyed his awful form, releasing his connection to Yomi. I'm relieved.. though, that's an understatement in itself. This fight required my wolven form, after all. But the group we've been hounding for moons.. is no more.

And to think it started with a flyer on Nightraid's bounty board.

01.27.2023