#mobile made it so crunchy

[snurgle07]

something about Progress

[ID: A digital drawing depicting several iterations of Teru Hanazawa from the Mob Psycho 100 series. From right to left- Teru with his debut design scowling as he looks over at the other Terus, his hand is raised with a psychic aura threateningly. Teru in his appearance during the Sixth Division arc is resting his elbow on the former and has a casual expression as he looks over at the next Teru. The Teru with his hair cut and blue shirt is smiling open-mouthed and looking back at the former Terus. Last is the Teru design depicted in the finale who is smiling with his eyes closed and hands in his pockets as if at peace.]

[voidmagic]

-I don't really get it. -It's okay, I didn't either, at your age. But now I think I do... Where we came from... and where we're going...

[girlwiththegreenhat]

i genuinely love when you can tell an older show was Not made with high quality video viewing in mind. i am watching knight rider and constantly seeing all the little mistakes they surely brushed under the rug thinking nobody would see them on their crunchy little CRTs back in the 80s, that are huge attention grabbers now in HD fullscreen on my 3 foot computer monitor

the biggest one of course is all the drivers/controllers for the (in-universe) self driving car, kitt. there's guys tucked down in the footwells who can't always stay out of the shot. there's a guy who has a Car Seat Suit to blend in and look like the drivers seat from a distance, but you can always tell when that's the method they're using for a particular shot because its so much thicker than the passenger seat next to it and the headrest is missing it's cutout section. in at least one instance he starts taking the suit off too early, on a focus shot of the damn car, so its REAL visible.

all the extremely obvious stunt drivers or performers who look nothing like the character they're supposed to be

props, such as animals, vanishing from the car interior for stunt/race sequences.

the production crew (or their shadows) being visible in the background. only at a glance, but its especially hilarious in shots where nobody else is supposed to be around

the camera panning out from a sound stage set far enough that you can actually see over the edges of the set and into the stage they were filming in. mostly this happens with their truck trailer mobile unit thing.

this one isn't a mistake but every time the car "turbo jumps" they CLEARLY hide the ramp behind another car, a prop, the environment, and its just. so charming. sometimes its blatantly on screen just for a moment. like... of Course in real life this car isn't magically leaping 20 feet, of course its a ramp, but it's still so silly and fun to be reminded of how they were doing those stunts to begin with.

also not really a mistake but related, the bracket they keep on the front of the car for stunt work.... is just left on half the time. cuz it's a pain to take on and off.

and there are more examples that are more unique that haven't cemented themselves in my head well yet, but these are the more notable or common things i see and it's really charming. if i'm not giggling to myself noticing the "seams" and flaws and so human imperfections of your show or movie what EVEN is the point. hollywood is too flashy these days i think!

[centrally-unplanned]

Serial fiction works totally fine for me (though multi-chapter release is ideal), I very much enjoy the process of thinking about what will come next, rereading key chapters the latest update provokes memories of, etc. Its in some ways irreplaceably better than just a complete novel.

I do not have the same perspective on most video games; its such a drag to get back into a game after being away for a while. The Last Sovereign just had a update and that game's level of hyper-detailed, low-guidance, number-crunchy optimization of quests is just a brain state it takes time to acclimate to, you know? You have to get into the flow of like yes this is where every NPC I have ever talked to is located so I can remember that dialogue they said that one time that is suddenly relevant. But if the updates are serial then by the time I get back into that groove fully I am almost done!

Game-specific ofc, I have no problem with silly gatcha mobile games or w/e in this regards. And obviously niche RPGmaker game The Last Sovereign is released serially because that is the only way it could sustainable get made at all, so no foul. Just clearly how my brain works.

[clever-fox-studios]

Fatass art dump time continues of all the neat things I made while in the SAMS server. I'm not active now, as I've stated before (somewhere) but it does have a special place in my crusty dusty heart for getting me out of a massive art block phase I was in; I did so much art while in that group, it was unreal. If you knew me irl, I'd maybe draw one picture every two or three months, it felt like, so the sheer volume of nonsense I generated, the styles I developed and designs I fell in love with will always be because of that goofy server

First off, memes! Starting with my favorite that still makes me wheeze

I only grabbed a handful of my favorites, as mobile only let's me upload 10 pics at a time

I have no idea why I drew this thing, but Bio!Hazard Killcode ended up being a favorite "why tf not" design I did even though I will probably never draw him again because details

Lucky Blocks was one of the first vids I watched of the show so I commemorated it by drawing Sun's non-canon son, the proto-star

And then later decided we needed more Eclipse Rizz and drew Eclipse and Solar (mechanic Eclipse) in corset vests because I had a problem and needed to make it everyone else's. you can probably tell I was really getting into my DCA art style given how much I could draw it across the board with all the characters (though I never drew KC in my Legacy style now that I think about it--)

Anyway... moving on to probably my favorite thing to come out of that art stampede:

CRUNCHY ART

I get really into monochrome + crosshatching cuz my style works incredibly well with bold lines and grayscale for some unholy reason

Really love the yandere vibes this still gives off; Eclipse, you petty bitch /pos

Pretty sure we all know when this dropped, cuz it was within two days of the vid posting

But before then, we got the OG crunchy: the scariest moment in all of SAMS (to me) that literally made me jump. I coined it the "Junji Ito" art style because it was the vibes I was going for

It worked out exceptionally well for poor KC as well, that time he was modified by The Creator while he was just vibing in Moon's body, minding his own business

I think that was all of it. Well, except stills from that (unfinished) animatic but that's on Youtube now so I probably don't need to post those on their own... maybe??

[larmegliamori]

Zexal Month: Judgement, Upright

Observation Number #???: Looks like I landed in a different world, a sweet and crunchy one...

@zexalmonth

It's crossover day, finally!

I had absolutely no doubt on what to do for this prompt: it's one good year I've gotten into the mobile gacha game Cookie Run: Kingdom, and my interest hasn't faded away yet, every update keeps me on the edge, plus the character design is always so adorable!

A while ago, I made a playful post about the similarities between Astral and Stardust Cookie, and now it comes full circle... Astral is a Cookie too! So, meet Starlight Cookie!

I tried to replicate the CRK style at the best of my capacity and adapted Astral's design to fit it. I think it turned out pretty good!

I didn't think of his Rarity, Type and Position, mostly because I am indecisive about them. if anyone wants to help me out, I'd be grateful!

I might also Cookie-ify some other characters as well... 👀

I hope you've enjoyed everything so far, have a bonus meme under the cut!

[snazzyscarf]

made taylor & skitter in the pony town creator heehoo

EDIT: ok idk why these r so crunchy on mobile but i can't fix it :( desktop swag ig

[tco-old]

Happy Holidays! Here's The Bowuigi Medley!

(SoundCloud Link)

I've done it! I've created a (mostly) Mario medley based entirely on Bowuigi.

Heads Up: While putting this together, I realized this medley gets a bit crunchy on mobile device speakers. I'd recommend use of headphones or a desktop or such to listen to this, if that option is available to you.

Clocking in at 6 minutes, it's not my longest medley, though I think it's the one I put the most thought into overall. There's a whole story outline in my mind, with acts and everything, that determined pretty much every detail of how this was put together. I won't be posting said 'story' here, though I'll likely be making a post of it soon (which I'll link here once I do).

There's multiple sections in here that I might end up isolating and extending into full pieces. I didn't expect Luigi's and Bowser's music to gel together as well as they did, though I guess the same could be said for the ship as a whole.

My next endeavor will probably be a winter-y themed medley of sorts. That was, as it happens, my original plan for a Christmas release, but Bowuigi took over my brain, so this ended up coming first.

I hope I've done the ship justice, and I hope you enjoy! And, once again, happy holidays! ☆

Credits and Tracklist are Below the Cut!

The Following Tracks Come from NinSheetMusic.

More specifically, the Super Mario, Paper Mario, and Mario Kart sections. Names/Links provided below for the people who made the sheet music I referenced.

Mario and Luigi's House, Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door - Sebastian

Luigi's Casino, Super Mario 64 DS - Don Valentino

Bowser Battle, Super Mario Bros 3 - The Deku Trombonist

Stage Clear (Slowed), Luigi's Mansion - Nacho2420

Luigi's Story, Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door - Sebastian

Luigi's Mansion, Mario Kart DS - Bloop

Angry Bowser, Paper Mario - Maelstrom

Bowser's Galaxy Generator, Super Mario Galaxy 2 - Purple1222119

Main Theme, Luigi's Mansion - Sebastian

Princess Peach is Rescued, Super Mario World - Sekter77

The Grand Finale/In The Final, Bowser's Inside Story - Rubikium

...honestly, NinSheetMusic is a stellar site for anyone looking to learn some Nintendo songs on piano (and even some non-Nintendo games!). They've got so much covered, it's insane. That sounds like a sponsor bit but I swear it's not.

The Following Come from MuseScore.

Names of the creators of the sheet music and links to said sheet music referenced are provided below.

Masochism Tango, Tom Lehrer - frejt

Bowser's Castle, Super Mario World - mielesgamesfa

Meant To Be Yours, Heathers: The Musical - tlee524

Tale As Old As Time, Beauty and the Beast - Michel Dikovec

Ghostly Galaxy, Super Mario Galaxy - XiaoMigros

Final Battle with Bowser, Super Mario Galaxy - XiaoMigros

Wedding Hall, Super Mario Odyssey - ethan0515

The Following Comes from a Very Shady PDF.

Seriously. I've linked the PDF just to give the credit where it's due, and generally the PDF itself is safe to view. However, near the top of the sheet there's a very shady link that I would not recommend clicking, as I have no clue where it actually goes if you let it load fully.

Love Story, Taylor Swift - Ludy

[17magpiesinatrenchcoat]

HEY GUYS, for like 2 weeks or so, tumblr has made my image quality incredibly crunchy. I don’t know why, it was fine before. It’s very annoying bc I can’t see a lot of details in artworks and text in images. If anyone knows how to fix this please lmk

(I am on mobile btw)

[phoebe-delia]

take my hand, wreck my plans

Happiest of wedding days to my darling friend, M. @makeitp1nk. You might not remember this, but a loooong time ago you said that the Taylor song that reminds you the most of your relationship is "willow," so when I set out to make your wedding gift/drabble, I knew what my prompt would be. (Ignore the fact I've technically done this song before shhhh that doesn't count).

Wishing you a lifetime of happiness. I love and adore you.

I knew everything about you, and yet nothing at all, back then. I knew your favorite food, the way you take your tea. I knew your birthday—though it was hard not to; it's practically a national holiday. I knew your pre-and-post Quidditch routines, the way you grip a wand. I knew every angry twitch of your scowl, every angle of your smirk, the force of your fist.

I thought I knew you, then. But now, you're so much more.

It was the silliest thing; you were just talking about crunchy peanut butter. The merits of it, its reputation compared to its creamy counterpart. We were at the supermarket, and you were holding a jar in your hand and talking to me, and it hit me with the force of a stunner that there was nowhere else on the planet I'd rather have been at that moment.

Which is strange and surprising to me, even now. I never knew that home and safety could be found in another human being. I thought those things were bought and built with concrete, with magic. I thought the best parts of life were tangible; had measurable value. But when I think about some of the happiest moments of my life—the summers I spent in lavish palaces, the decadent dinners, the extravagant shopping trips—I always end up remembering how you light up at calendars with puppy pictures. I think about the way you dance—only at home, only with me—using your entire body. I think about how you make my tea better than I can, at this point.

I always thought I knew the way my life would go. Growing up, I imagined moving into the manor with my future wife and sending my parents to live in a comfortable cottage in the south of France. I pictured lavish parties, poring over finance documents late at night, being doted on by house elves, and inheriting the respect of the wizarding world earned by my Father and his before him, and so on.

And especially when the war came and put that future in shambles, I tried to piece together the parts of myself and my life that I liked, and proceeded from there. I predicted years of struggle to earn a respectable standing in our world. I imagined being shunned, ridiculed, and possibly even in prison.

But then you—marvelous, heroic, stupidly-selfless you—walked into the courtroom and saved my life. Again. Wanker.

And you didn't stop there. It would've been enough just to keep me out of Azkaban; it was more than I deserved, or so I believed at the time. But you were persistent. You showed up at my tiny flat once a week; the one on the outskirts of Muggle London where the water heater only worked for an hour in the middle of the night, and the elevator was perpetually broken. You showed me Muggle currency, how to do my own laundry, and how to work a mobile.

You taught me how to shop at the supermarket. And made me my first peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

The idea that such happiness and joy are experienced freely is a preposterous truth for me to understand; and yet it's one I relish each day. It's one I don't take for granted.

You turned my entire world upside down and still made sure I landed on my feet, our hands clasped. You defied every expectation I had—for myself, for you, for the world. And you prove to me every day just how right it was that I was so wrong.

-

Read it on ao3!

[bunnimew]

Kylo's Got Nuts

Rating: T Fandom: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy Relationship: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren Tags: Ren Fair AU, Alternate Universe, Modern Setting, nut booth, roasted nuts, delicious nuts, mouthful of nuts, popping nuts, hot nuts, salty sweet nuts, whole lotta nuts, almonds Summary: Kylo's got nuts.

Armitage would like to try them.

On AO3 here.

Glory be to the masterful genetics that sculpted such a work of art right out of Armitage’s dreams. 

The man was gorgeous. His strength was obvious from the definition of his arms and the sturdy shape of his chest. Armitage couldn’t see his legs under the many layers of his Renaissance Faire costume, but he would bet those thighs were huge. 

He was perfect. Armitage wanted to tangle his fingers in that loose, long hair and bury his face in that wide, firm chest and grip his knees around those thick hips and—

Armitage didn't notice he'd been drifting closer until the man locked eyes with him. Deep, glittery, dark eyes.

"Would you like to try my nuts?” 

Armitage answered before he thought through what an odd question that was. His voice was even a little dreamy and soft. “Absolutely.” 

The man's smile lit up bright enough to drown out the glaring sun. He only looked away from Armitage for a bare second before he handed him… 

A sample size cup of roasted nuts. Almonds, to be exact.

"Oh."

The man's tone was painfully amused when he ventured, "Were you expecting something else?"

Stars in Heaven, he was. Snapped back to reality by the literal nuts in his hand, Armitage reconsidered every life choice that brought him here. This was the Ren Faire. He was standing in front of a nut booth. He was an idiot. 

Armitage stared down at the little cup of nuts and replied, "In hindsight, no."

The man chuckled, and it was a pleasant enough sound that Armitage found he didn't mind being laughed at too much. He gestured encouragingly at the nuts and said, "Go on. Try them."

Well. Despite wishing for the universe to grant him an undo button, Armitage was still there. So he might as well taste the man's nuts. 

Armitage tipped back his head and poured the nuts into his mouth like a shot. They were perfectly salted and crave-ably sweet, with a wonderful crunchy texture, warm on his tongue. With his mouth still full, Armitage admitted, "Wow. These are actually delicious."

The man grinned and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. With practiced ease and, incredibly, without laughing, he said, "For five dollars, you can put as much in your mouth as you want."

Armitage hesitated for a moment, feeling his face warm as he wondered. Did he really want that many nuts?... Did he even like nuts that much? 

But then he went for his wallet. "Only because you said it like that."

The nut man laughed in delight and set aside his tray of samples to prepare a proper serving for Armitage. "It’s a good line, right?"

"I'm not sure I would go that far," Armitage said, watching the man's muscular arms move through the process of preparing a waxed paper cone and pouring warm, freshly roasted nuts into it until it was nearly overflowing. This man could do nothing but flip switches all day and Armitage would love to watch.

The man eyed Armitage as he held the cone of nuts out for him to take. "Tough crowd."

Armitage raised his chin defiantly. "High standards."

"High maintenance, too, I bet," the man challenged. 

Armitage hummed noncommittally and teased, careful to keep all hope out of his voice, "Maybe you'll find out."

Interest took over the man’s expression, which made the utterly random question he asked all the more jarring for Armitage. "Do you have a ye olde mechanical carrier pigeon?"

Armitage stared at him, wondering what inside joke he must be missing, when he suddenly realized, "A mobile. You mean a mobile."

"Yeah," he said, as if he hadn’t just dropped a riddle in Armitage’s lap. "I'll give you my number. I'd ask for yours but I am contractually forbidden from taking out my ye olde mechanical carrier pigeon and I don't think you want it written on my arm for any passers by to see."

"That would be correct,” Armitage confirmed. He was still feeling foolish for how long it had taken him to decode the indirect term, but tried to play it like he was just unimpressed. He hoped it was working. “Besides, you might sweat it off. Roasting nuts is hot business, isn't it?"

The man grinned as if Armitage wasn’t talking about the heat coming from the roasting pan in the booth. "You bet. Ready?"

Armitage looked down at the number pad on his phone. "I'll need your name, of course."

“Kylo,” he offered freely, then tilted his head forward in interest. “And yours?”

Armitage raised a brow at him. Give up his position of power so soon? Hardly. “The number?”

Kylo huffed a bit of a laugh, but obediently gave Armitage his information. Good boy. If he kept that up, Armitage might give him a treat. Armitage would love to give him a treat. 

A chime sounded from somewhere deep in the confines of Kylo’s costume. Armitage smiled as the realization dawned over Kylo’s face that Armitage had sent a text… and Kylo wouldn’t be able to read it for hours.

Kylo’s face definitely read more amused than tortured, but it was certainly a mix of both. “That’s rough.”

Armitage shrugged one shoulder, then spotted Phasma waving to him from several booths over. Time to go, then. Armitage was going to miss him, but it would be a cold day in hell before Armitage let Kylo know that. “You’ll live,” he said simply, turning away and popping one little almond between his lips as he did.

“Are you sticking around ‘till the end of the day?” Kylo called after him. The eagerness of his tone set Armitage’s insides alight. 

“I might,” Armitage said over his shoulder. “You know, if there’s anything interesting still around.”

Kylo, hilariously, held up his wares in invitation. “There’ll always be nuts!”

“And we both know I find those very interesting,” Armitage played along. He waved as he finally left earshot. “See you around!”

Kylo shouted something back, but it was lost amidst the ambient noise of the fair. It didn’t look like a goodbye, though.

-o-

Kylo’s feet were sore as hell and one of the straps on his pants was chafing like a motherfucker. He could have sat for his break at the back of the nut booth and actually taken a rest.

But then he wouldn’t be able to check his phone. 

Kylo wove through the crowd to the back of a long bank of food stalls, then ducked through the split in a wall of hanging canvas to reach a staging area thoroughly hidden from view. It was the nearest place where staff were allowed to freely scroll through their phones.

Only one message was waiting for him, but it was totally worth blowing his break on this.

Care to pick me up Tuesday? Will you be free?

-Armitage 

[xannerz]

gonna ramble but-- infinite painter ($10) and artstudio pro ($10/yr or $40 for life) are so much better than procreate (~$13). if their UIs were as intuitive as procreate's, im p sure they'd be more popular. that's honestly the only thing procreate has on the other 2 - it's not feature-rich, but v/ lightweight and easy to pick up. idk, it's kind of a shame.

i've always struggled with procreate - no matter how i mess with the settings, no matter what brushes i try out, the brush engine still feels incredibly stiff. but when i doodle in ip or artstudio it almost feels like i'm back on my desktop with csp, where i'm most comfortable. it's sad, man. procreate makes everything so crunchy when you resize it. it has restrictive layer limitations depending on your canvas size. i was doing a 3kx3k in IIRC IP the other day and the layer cap was like 100+ LMFAO. idk! i have immense respect for procreate and how it's made art more accessible to tons of artists (--once you buy an ipad ☝🤓), but if you can, give the other apps a shot. idr but im p sure they have free demos. artstudio pro's UI isn't the most mobile-friendly but i enjoy drawing on it wayy wayya ywyaywyYWYAYYY more.

[piizunn]

COLD WEATHER TIPS AND RESOURCES (ALBERTA BASED)

all resources will be alberta based as that is where i am located, however i’d like to expand this list to the rest of my nation’s homelands which are saskatchewan and manitoba mainly.

i made this post the other day and i wanted to add more resources and information!

my basic tips for anyone in the cold

1. Layers will save your life wether you have actual winter gear or not. I exclusively wear baggy pants for comfort and style, but also so that i can wear at least 2 base layers, my go-to is a base layer of waffle weave long johns under tapered sweatpants (tapered is important to me personally, It makes it so i can tuck my pants into my boots easily!)

2. the rule with layering is that you still must have your entire range of motion so that you can keep blood flow to all your extremities, ESPECIALLY your fingers and toes. If two pairs of socks make it so you can’t move your toes around, ditch the second layer. Same with gloves. On that note- i prefer mittens to gloves with individual fingers. They might have more mobility but mittens are more comfortable for me personally.

3. Wind protection- staying out of the wind is the most important part of all of this. wind chill can make the air feel significantly colder, wind burn and frostbite can set in within 10 minutes of skin being exposed to extreme cold like the -40 C and below weather alberta has been experiencing. Wether you protect yourself from the wind.

4. if you absolutely have to sleep rough find a place that is a) safe and accessible for you and your needs b) out of the wind, and c) a place you can set up a tent or tarp. i can’t stress enough how much colder the wind makes things.

5. FOR HOUSED FOLKS. ESPECIALLY SETTLERS. if you see someone sleeping rough, use the resources provided. ask them if they need help. hell, if you have a spare room, heated garage, empty basement, fucking let your neighbours in!!! do what you can within your means and with the privilege you have. if you can’t provide a warm space you can provide other necessities.

necessities for unhoused folks braving this weather:

-MONEY (i can’t stress this enough. i don’t care if they buy drugs or alcohol, harm reduction saves lives)

- hand warmers

-easy to eat snacks (nothing crunchy, lots of folks have dental issues)

-gloves

-toques

-scarves

-socks

-long johns and leggings (waffle knit is everything in this weather)

-wind breakers/wind pants

-winter jackets and snow pants

-sturdy warm shoes

-water bottles

-cigarettes

-gift cards for food (i know a lot of you got tim’s cards for christmas)

EDMONTON/CALGARY/LETHBRIDGE RESOURCES:

Mohkinstsis/Calgary

Bear Clan goes out on patrol every friday night. there are also bear clan groups in manitoba!

https://instagram.com/bearclanpatrolcalgary?igshid=Zjc2ZTc4Nzk=

CALL 211 IF YOU SEE SOMEONE IN DISTRESS! THIS NUMBER ALSO WORKS IN EDMONTON.

Amiskwaciywâskahikan/Edmonton

PRAIRIE SAGE PROTECTORS

https://instagram.com/prairie.sage.protectors?igshid=Zjc2ZTc4Nzk=

BOYLE STREET COMMUNITY SERVICES

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by ʏᴇɢᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛᴏʀ (@yegconnector)

again, like i mentioned before you can also call 211 in calgary for someone in distress!

SIKOOHKOTOKI/LETHBRIDGE

user @goldswords informed me of Sage Clan in Lethbridge who are out there saving lives in the community! here is their profile. keep in mind these are only the major cities of alberta, please feel free to add any resources you know of!

https://instagram.com/sageclanlethbridge?igshid=Zjc2ZTc4Nzk=

REMEMBER THE LAND NEEDS THE COLD. THIS COLD IS NATURAL, WHAT IS NOT NATURAL IS THE UNPREDICTABILITY OF THE WEATHER AND THE FACT THAT PEOPLE ARE DYING ON THE STREETS.

[saviolum-sanguineus]

“ why are you looking at me like that? ” e-squared? but like with a captain crunch esme

with pleasure, nonnie! i changed up the wording of the prompt a bit, but this sure is some crunchy esme and some dense enoch. together, they're a delicious pudding.

tw: slightly suggestive? emotional repression. poor moral decisions. girlbossery.

War is unkind to them all—to some in different ways than others. The military order for her morale tour severs many of the strings of influence that Esme had kept tightly wound in her grasp, and Enoch’s noticeably cool non-responses to the few papers that manage to extricate a statement from him snap a good handful more.

She bears it in the best way she knows how, but Esme’s tolerance has never been her greatest virtue. It’s late evening, one of the few remaining to her in Pheles before an impending departure for new shores of humiliation to endure, and Enoch is in his study, poring over papers lashed with scrawls of deep, blood-blue ink, when Esme enters, nerves frayed enough to remind her of how they’d first met without including the fear she’s felt since the Seraphine murder trial.

“Esme.” It’s more fatigued than purposefully cold, a decent enough greeting for a man tasked with managing the arming and provision of the empire’s many military outposts amid the flurry of activity caused by official mobilization—but Esme’s empathy, already shrivelled, is curtailed further by the fact that Enoch’s eyes land first on her hair, not her face, and that the small smile that spreads over his features comes only after noting how she’s come bearing his colours, deep blue silk making her as much a Ward possession as the similarly shimmering pen he sets aside to look at her. “You look beautiful. Why are you up so late? It’s unhealthy, you should take better care of yourself.”

Esme’s restraint shivers, setting the chains of her careful calculation jangling—and the one at her hand as well, a delicate harbinger of rage built up over weeks. “I’ve been packing.”

Her eyes narrow slightly as Enoch looks down to avoid responding to the implication of her answer and Esme continues, voice sharpening against the brilliant white whetstone of aching teeth, “Blythe and I had a conversation earlier—unfortunate, that she never took me up on that offer to show her backstage during the performance season. I wish I could have given her a little tour. She made a few remarks on the profession that the insight would have helped better inform her on.”

Enoch sighs, the sound rough with impatient frustration. “Esme, not now—”

“Why are you speaking to me like this?”

Esme’s voice is all blade now, no silk to shield its edge from carving through the air as she stalks forward to plant her hands on Enoch’s desk and stare at him—it infuriates her that he’s tall enough, even sitting, that she’s just at eye-level, and it certainly shows.

“I asked you a question, Enoch. I already know the answer—I want to hear you say it.” Her eyes are searing, every word low and sparkling with the sibilant perfection of an accent that falls upon the syllables like a perfectly honed sword. “Tell me that you’re ashamed of being so publicly sullied. Tell me that you agree with your daughter, that she serves our glorious empire in superior ways and that you’d never let her do such unspeakable things like me. Tell me that you would rather cast me aside to debasement you have every ability to preclude than raise a finger that Nicholas would take offense to in his fragile state.”

Esme’s fingers are clenched over the gleaming rosewood of Enoch’s desk, voice sliding tight and hard through her teeth, but the room is devoid of her magic, ginger and gold kept restrained under her skin—a pointed sign of self-control perhaps lost on Enoch, whose silence is slipping into a hollow, vaguely reddening expression as Esme continues. His features cling to thin-lipped disapproval like barnacles to sea-shorn rock, though the tide, it seems, is turning.

“Tell me what we both know you are, darling.” Her fingers catch Enoch’s jaw, crimson-lacquered nails glossy against his pale skin, and tilt his head up, forcing a slanted line of sight as Esme leans over his desk, the conflagration in her eyes flaring ever higher.

His grip closes around her wrist—not tight enough to grind the tiny bones there against each other, but Enoch moving at all is enough for Esme to raise an eyebrow.

“I never said you could touch.”

She doesn’t entirely expect him to release her. Maybe he doesn’t either—but Enoch’s hand loosens and slips back down to his lap. The gems running along the back of Esme’s hand glitter as she tips Enoch’s head a little further, voice lowering into a purr cold enough to disguise the disdain at its core.

“Look at you. A pathetic, sorry man who hides behind a creed about as sturdy as melted ice because it’s the only conviction that will never realise how miserably clueless you are and demand better of you. You don’t have to hide that from me—you can’t.”

Her nails press in slightly harder, drawing red beneath the skin but not breaking it, before Esme releases Enoch, rather suddenly, and takes a step back. Something like a scoff twists over her face, unpainted lips glistening around a silent breath.

“You want someone to tell you what to do, don’t you? It would have been easy to have me reassigned or at least kept closer to court. But I didn’t ask. Because I loved you and I believed you when you told me you’d keep me safe. I should have known you needed direction.”

Esme doesn’t move. Every line of her body is taut, commanding in the way of a drawn-back crossbow as she breathes, eyes fixed on Enoch’s, “So I’m not asking now. I am telling you to finish that page and come to bed. You will hold me and you will listen, and we will sleep. Do you understand that, Enoch?”

Freedom from his silk is fleeting, a bare heartbeat before Esme lies down in Ward blue and arms. Enoch's bed is comfortable; Esme hates herself and him a little bit for how much the warmth of him pressed along her body quiets the storm in her stomach.

The absent tenderness of Enoch’s embrace cuts like a knife. His kiss does worse.

[feeling-grubby]

Throw some random facts at me about any of your trolls

I'll give you at least one fact about each of my characters that have been introduced because I am dying to just to talk about any of them more.

zynier weapon is a rapier a kind of sword that would require a lot of movement, yet he has mobility issues. In all honesty he doesn't really use it to fight. He made it his weapon because it considered one of the fanciest weapons to have. Its decoration really, and he probably has a wall full of swords for Decore. I am surprised no one else caught onto that little detail.

Nvidia has adhd but mask it when around others.

Hollie may or may not be autistic coded. I have dropped a few hints to it in previous post. In her weird habit asks near the beginning I state she stims by her doing hand flapping (she also fidgets). She also has stated in a different ask that her hoodie gives her comfort. I wrote that in so people knew it as was a comfort object. She also has another comfort object which is a blanket. Another little hint is in a judgment meme where it is revealed that she hates jean fabric cause of the texture. Fabrics aren't the only thing when it comes to texture, this isn't in an ask, but something I have discussed with friends is that she doesn't like soft texture foods like mashed potatoes and often loves really crunchy and chewy foods. Her hyper fixation is mortal combat and competitive games. In one ask she revealed she learned her favorite characters fighting style and adapted it to make it her own. I didn't want to state it in her intro because I didn't want people to think I was trying to be woke, and I didn't know how people would react upon being one of the first things they learned about her. but yeah, she is intended to be autistic.

Tikvah will never admit she hates being touched. She is very touched repulsed but will act like she's not.

Nvidia is style is supposed to be cyberpunk and retro all mixed into one and I think it gives her a unique vibe.

anyways sorry Hollie got the biggest blurb of text I have been dying to talk about that, but also, I wanted to try and keep most facts as short as possible. I hope however maybe now that people know about the little details I tend to hide in ask, maybe they will send more?

[kaesaaurelia]

you are here

For @whumptober day 15: Emotional Damage, using the prompt "lies."

Continued from day 6, wherein Hell sent Aziraphale a ransom video of Crowley, captured and beaten up, and day 10, where Crowley endured searing torments and discovered that truly, Hell is other people.

When the demons came back around to dip them in lava again, Crowley, having learned his lesson now, permitted the damned souls to be encased in lava over time, until they were weirdly cocoon-shaped geodes of entitlement, and they were unhooked carefully from the candle-dipper and carried somewhere else. By this time he was very badly burnt and just wanted to hole up somewhere and shed all his skin as soon as possible. He tried to slip away while the supervisor was looking the other way, but the weird pink tentacles sprouting from her nose swerved in his direction as soon as he tried to get past her, and she dug her claws into his shoulder to stop him. "Where d'you think you're going?" she asked.

"I've, er, got an appointment," Crowley invented.

"Blessed right, you do. They told me to keep you here 'til they came and took you to it."

Crowley tsked loudly, trying not to be annoyed that the demon's claws had pierced both his jacket and his shoulder. "Well, all right, if you like, but don't be surprised if Someone's very upset with you," he said, going for ominous and managing slightly bratty.

The demon looked deeply unimpressed. "Did you really think that'd work? Come on, you saw the kind of humans we work with here, did you think I'd say 'Oh yes, of course, sir, whatever you say, I must have been mistaken, sir, I'm so sorry'?"

Crowley had to admit she had a good point. "Right, okay, yeah, but look --"

"No," she said.

"Look, could I just --"

"No," she said again.

"I'll wait here," Crowley promised, "I just want to let someone know I'm going to be late. To my appointment. Could I... is there a payphone or something?"

She considered this for a moment. "You did defend us out there. You also made our job harder."

"But I did defend you, yes!" said Crowley, seizing on this one thing.

After another long pause to consider this, she finally drew a black rectangle out of her pocket. "One of the humans gave me this to hold while we dunked them. I can't fucking use it, I can't see, but it's electric," she said, tapping it with one of her nose tentacles. "I assume it's one of those awful newfangled things they have now."

Then she held it out to him. It was a phone.

"There are mobiles in Hell?" Crowley asked. He'd assumed from all the interruption of all his radio and television programs that such things were beyond Hell's comprehension.

"Apparently they make the younger humans anxious, and the older ones get angry about them," she said, "so we import them specially. I ate one once by accident," she added, making a face. "Very crunchy, not a lot of flavor. So I don't really want it."

"What do I have to do for it?" Crowley asked.

"Just don't give it back to that bitch, I'd love to hear what she has to say when I tell her I lost her stupid thing," said the demon. "And don't say I did you any favors."

Crowley almost thanked her as he took the mobile from her, but thought better of it at the last moment. "I won't," he said.

--

Aziraphale had spent several hours sneaking through the bureaucratic offices of Hell already, trying to find Crowley without anybody finding him, and he'd had no luck at all. He found himself blankly staring at a wall full of memos and notices, wondering where to go next, when one of the notices caught his eye.

ANGEL, it started.

He supposed at first that it was a very poorly-designed wanted poster for himself, but to his astonishment it was not.

ANGEL - BEING TAKEN ON GRAND TOUR OF TORMENT. HEADED TO CENTRAL DIS TO BE GNAWED BY SOMETHING? FOR A WHILE, WILL PROBABLY TAKE 2-3 DAYS. HOPE YOU HAVE A MOBILE.

He folded the notice and put it in his pocket. He was going to have to get to Dis.

Dis proved more difficult than he'd expected, however. He had trouble at the ferry, because of course Aziraphale had what he thought was the requisite two coins, but the fare had gone up a lot, and so, having missed his first chance, he had to wait for an hour and a half for the next one, only that one didn't come, and it was the last ferry of the day. Aziraphale ended up waiting, frantic with worry for Crowley, in a nasty-smelling station where all the chairs had mysterious liquid pooled in them, for twelve hours before he was finally able to cross the Acheron to get to the outskirts of Dis.

By which point Crowley's location had changed again.

HAVE BEEN GNAWED. SORRY FOR TOPICS, MISSING 3 FUNHOUSE. OMW TO BE ENCRUSTED, said the absolutely baffling notice that was plastered to an electric pole in Dis.

A nearby billboard was a little more helpful. FIGURE! ENSTOATED!, it shouted, next to a photograph of a smiling demon in a suit and tie. (It was not Crowley. Aziraphale had to assume the demon was the Infernal equivalent of a personal injury lawyer, since the telephone number at the bottom, helpfully transcribed in both letters and numbers, was +666 3472 677678, which translated to the extremely clunky +666 DISC ORPOR8.)

Aziraphale didn't know what was missing three figures, nor whether being Encrusted or Enstoated was worse, but the especially frustrating part was that there was no hint as to where Crowley was.

Another notice, this one the caption for a poster depicting a lost bat, clarified things very slightly. FINGERS. MISSING 3. SORRY. DUCKING AUTOCORRECT.

The description of the lost bat was briefly an actual description of a lost bat, but Aziraphale blinked, and it suddenly resolved into I'm in the 9th Circle. Don't come here.

Aziraphale did not take the poster; whoever had put it up would still be missing their bat, and resolved to find his way to the Ninth Circle if it killed him.

He puzzled out the universe's least helpful map -- "YOU ARE HERE" was the title, and there was no indication as to where he actually was -- and then waited three hours for a bus that was supposed to be coming in 15 minutes. Eventually he decided to walk to the train station he needed to get to. There were no sidewalks, he was nearly run over several times, and it began to rain a searingly hot green liquid that ate pits in the sidewalk and ruined his umbrella and coat.

Aziraphale was utterly exhausted by the time he got to the train station. It was -- because of course it was, this was Hell! -- it was not underground, or at ground level, or even elevated one or two storeys up. Oh no, it was attached to the ceiling of the cavern.

Aziraphale sighed and brought his wings out, or tried to, but pain shot through him like electricity, and he realized he'd missed the ABSOLUTELY NO FLYING notice on the sign pointing upwards to the station.

As Aziraphale climbed the rickety, ancient staircase, he could see the way the track plunged down into a great gaping hole in the ground a bit further on, and was relieved that it probably did go to the Ninth Circle, if it ran at all, which he doubted.

But when he was, oh, perhaps five or six stories from the station, there was a great rumbling noise that rattled the staircase and made it shake so hard Aziraphale nearly fell off. He began taking the stairs two at a time. He made it to the platform just in time to watch the train roar off into the abyss.

The electronic sign at the station suggested that the next train would be along in twenty minutes. Aziraphale knew this was a lie. Wishing he could miracle away the stitch in his side, he sat down on the one single bench at the station, which had armrests built into it just wide enough that Aziraphale fit, but they dug into his legs painfully. He wondered if Crowley would've been able to sit here comfortably, or whether the armrests would have adjusted to make him uncomfortable too.

Aziraphale had the brief and uncharitable thought that Crowley had probably suggested they do this, since it struck him as a very human thing to consider, and then he considered what Crowley was going through, the enstoating, or ensconcing, or encrusting, or whatever he had tried to type, with three missing fingers, and he felt ill.

As he waited, the station went from empty to crowded, and by the time the train came, about an hour later, he and the other commuters had to sardine themselves into it. All the damned human souls seemed to have mobiles, but none of them had headphones, and so the train was a cacophony of music, repetitive videos, and distasteful political rants playing tinnily on tiny speakers, with the sound of screaming infants piped in over the tannoy for realism.

That was all right, though, because it all sort of blended into a disagreeable white noise. Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to relax as the train pitched down into the lowest circles of Hell, and no matter how badly the cars jostled, nobody fell over, because they were far too tightly packed.

In fact, something about the familiarity of the whole thing and the heat of the poorly-ventilated train car must have got to Aziraphale, because the next thing he knew, his cheek was resting on a frigid and slightly sticky floor. It was pitch black, and the train was rattling around him.

Aziraphale hauled himself his feet and walked face-first into a pole before grabbing onto it to stay upright. He looked around. There was a dim light at one end of the car, and he made his way carefully towards it, thinking perhaps in the next car there was light.

But as he approached, a terrifying visage came out of the darkness, with staring white eyes and knife-sharp teeth; the little point of light was suspended from an antenna sprouting out of its forehead as a lure for the unwary. Aziraphale recoiled.

"Oh, there you are," said the anglerfish demon, sounding pleasantly surprised.

"What have you done to the lights? Where are we going?" Aziraphale demanded.

"Oh, that just happens on this train, especially in the Ninth Circle," said the demon pleasantly. "You fell asleep. They were going to kick you off at the end of the line, but I figured you probably meant to get off earlier than that."

"But I was going there!" said Aziraphale, frantically. "Stop the train! Or, or -- when's the next stop?"

The demon sighed heavily, and though his countenance still looked vicious, Aziraphale realized that might have been more because of the teeth than because he was particularly aggressive. "Look, even I don't come down here if I can help it, and I'm a Duke of Hell," said the demon. "Also, if they found out I'd allowed an angel to get all the way down here without ripping his throat out, they'd look at my records. Things would be called into question. I may have been fudging certain quotas over the years, here and there, because frankly it's very hard to get to Earth what with all my duties in Hell. I'm sure you understand; I remember Heaven well enough."

Aziraphale didn't trust this demon, but he was almost friendly, and Aziraphale was so tired. His whole body ached in various ways he could usually escape on Earth. "I'm trying to find a friend," he admitted.

"In the Ninth Circle?" The demon drew closer. "Oh! You're Crowley's angel, aren't you?"

Aziraphale stepped back hurriedly. "What? No! I don't know who that is," he said, unconvincingly.

"Relax, I'm not here to snitch on you. Like I said. People will ask inconvenient questions. Anyway, I used to be his supervisor, back before he got to be such a big shot with all that apple stuff. I'm still in contact with a few people we worked with, here and there," he added, cheerfully.

"Ah," said Aziraphale. "But I thought Lucifer..."

"Oh no, Lucifer was the big boss. I was the little boss," said the demon.

"Ah. And you were... friendly?" Aziraphale knew that Crowley had done good work during Creation, doing... things with stars.

"Oh, no, he was an exhausting little shit," said the demon, "but he was talented. And honestly? I like Earth. I only get to go every now and then but it's nice up there. Quieter. I have a friend up there who keeps trying to talk me into moving up there to teach physics -- she's an angel, she's my assigned rival for some reason, but I don't really think of her like that, we're just friends. Anyway, the only reason I don't take her up on that, honestly, is I have a bunch of Erics to look after, and I don't need grad students on top of the Erics. But Earth seems nice, you know? And I didn't want to lose another war. And I didn't really like our odds. So you go on and enjoy your lack of apocalypse."

"Yes, thank you," said Aziraphale, impatiently. "I'm glad you appreciate, er, the great service Crowley and I did, but he's in the Ninth Circle. I'm trying to retrieve him."

The demon shook his head, his little lure-light bobbing back and forth. "You're not getting him from there. Not and getting out alive. Didn't they kidnap him to trap you?"

"Well... yes, but I've been getting these, these text messages from him --"

"If he told you to come find him in the Ninth Circle, he's not worth saving," said the demon.

"Oh, no," said Aziraphale. "Actually, he told me not to come, he's very considerate, he's really a dear, but how could I just leave him --"

He stopped.

The demon looked at him expectantly.

"How could I just leave him?" Aziraphale repeated to himself. "And why would he have told me that, if he really didn't want me to come find him?"

"Do you think," said the demon, "that every message you get is guaranteed to come from Crowley?"

"Ah." It had had a suspicious lack of typos, especially for having been typed with three fingers missing. "It was a trap, wasn't it?"

"Definitely a trap," said the demon.

As they spoke, the lights in the train had gradually come back on, and scenery began flashing by -- Hell scenery, but still, scenery. Aziraphale watched two nude ice-skaters flee down a frozen river from a phalanx of crocodiles, then saw an unlucky third ice-skater further down the river being devoured by several of them. "Do you think he actually was in the Ninth Circle?"

"Maybe," said the demon. "Do you know what was supposed to be happening to him?"

"Something about encrustment? Or possibly enstoatment?"

"Oh!" said the demon, brightly. "Yeah, that's pretty bad. But it's not Ninth Circle bad. It's like, Eight and a Halfth Circle, at worst. Although they're actually thinking about drilling down further to make room for all the weird new sins humans are inventing, which is kind of exciting."

"Ah," said Aziraphale. He did not much care about that.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of static from the tannoy, cutting into the screaming infant soundtrack. "The Next Stop Is..." said the announcer, fuzzily, and then came Crowley's voice. "Aziraphale! Can't talk much, look, please hurry, they're taking me to the Lethe, I don't know what's going to happen if they do that. Fuck, I hope you're getting these." There was a long, staticky pause before he added, "I love you."

Then the screaming baby sounds began again, as if they had never stopped.

Aziraphale stared at the demon, Crowley's supposed former supervisor. "Did you hear that?"

"I mean, kind of? But I can never figure out what stop that's supposed to be. I think we're coming up on Dat, or maybe Dose," said the demon. "It'll be a while 'til we get back into the actual city of Dis."

Either he was lying, or he hadn't heard it. Aziraphale chose to take a leap of faith. "If I had to get to the Lethe, very quickly, and as safely as possible, how would I go about doing that?"

The demon's white eyes widened. "Ah. Another message?"

"Yes. You don't think it's --"

"I have no idea whether it's real," said the demon. "But if you want to get to Lethe... either you're looking at a six-hour bus trip with three transfers, or you're going to have to get someone to drive you. Traffic will be terrible this time of day, but --"

"Do you know anyone who could take me?" Aziraphale asked.

The demon made a pained face. "Well, not me, I'm not a bad enough driver to get a license." He seemed to take pity on Aziraphale, though. "All right, okay, look, it's a pretty long shot, but... I might know someone who can help you out, if the stories I've heard about you are true."

"The stories? What stories?" Aziraphale asked.

"But I guess you'll have to find out. And no promises." He began checking his pockets, and fished out a pen. "Do you have any paper?"

"Yes!" said Aziraphale, gratefully presenting him with the notice he'd taken days ago from across the Acheron.

"Okay, great. Also, sorry, my pen's out of ink because I think most of them just come like that in Hell, so you're going to have to be able to read the indentations." With some difficulty, the demon chiseled instructions into the paper, and hurried Aziraphale off at the next stop. As the train pulled out of the station, Aziraphale frowned down at the paper, puzzling out the directions and the address. He started off, still daring to hope he was going the right way.

[to be continued on day 16]