Latest Posts by dropout-ninja - Page 2

Hive Knight, The Dreamers, The Radiance~?

Thank you for the ask, I made my answers too long :D

Hive Knight: Are there any bosses you wish were friends instead of foes?

I feel like I’d say most of them XD 

The one coming to mind the most while writing this up is probably actually the False Knight. It’s a tutorial battle and seems straightforward enough early game, but finding the two brothers and hearing the final thoughts just makes me feel bad for killing him every time I replay the game. 

(I have a slightly similar reaction to the Pale Lurker fight, just because it feels so needless just to grab a key for a high percentage run, so Pale Lurker can be the second option here.)

The Dreamers: Who’s your favorite Dreamer? Why?

Hmmmm, I’ll go with Herrah on account of emotional damage. I love all the Dreamers and am always wanting to see more fic of the three of them together. But individually, Herrah was the first Dreamer I killed and just standing there killing her while nothing happened caused said emotional damage first before the other two got a chance. There’s something more sad about killing her than the others, to boot. Lurien and Monomon don’t seem to have many people close to them (Monomon has Quirrel, Lurien had PK?? and/or the butler guy that Grimmchild is always murdering). Lurien’s got no one alive/uninfected left. Monomon is trying to get the three of them killed. Meanwhile, Herrah had a lot of people genuinely loyal to her, plus Hornet. The difference between her and Monomon is that while both have someone alive that cares about them, Monomon is the only Dreamer to be advocating for the Dreamer’s seals removal. Herrah is still in the ‘seals cannot be undone/our duty holds’ mentality and maintains that mentality presumably because she’s trying to protect Hornet (the dreamnail dialogue about her doing everything ‘for her’). She just tends to always be the one I feel the most bad about killing. 

But also she’s a favorite because of how much potential political drama was going on between her and PK and the Mantis Tribe, and I have fun writing/reading that 

The Radiance: What memory from this game will stick with you the most?

So many…The Hollow Knight stabbing themself, the Abyss cutscene, Broken Vessel’s everything. Or walking through the dream tent towards the Nightmare King fight, looking at the veins with increasing nerves until the title card shows up and panic starts, or the ‘challenge’ the sun moment. Even just walking into Kingdom’s Edge the first time around. 

Hollow Knight Ask Meme!

Ghost: Why did you decide to play Hollow Knight?

Shade: Did you make many mistakes in your first playthrough? Did you regret some of the choices you made?

Hornet: Favorite boss battle? Most difficult boss?

The Hollow Knight: What was the saddest part of the game for you? Which ending is the most sad to you?

Quirrel: What was your favorite thing to discover for the first time?

Elder Bug: Do you stop to talk to all the NPCs? Who is your favorite?

Iselda: Favorite shopkeeper?

Cornifer: Favorite area in Hallownest?

Bretta: Favorite Hollow Knight ship? Favorite fanfic?

Zote: Least favorite character? Or which unpopular character do you like?

Tiso: Which NPC would you most like to fight? Why?

The Last Stag: What area of the game do you visit the most?

Confessor Jiji: Do you think you die more or less often than the average player?

Steel Soul Jinn: Have you attempted Steel Soul Mode?

Salubra: Favorite charms or charm set?

Grub: Did you free all the grubs?

Grubfather: What did you think of the reward?

Myla: What’s your favorite song from the soundtrack?

Cloth: Which character would you fight to protect?

Seer: Favorite ghost in Hallownest? Did you harvest any of them for their Essence?

Snail Shaman: Favorite spell to use?

The Hunter: Favorite/least favorite enemy you encounter? What is your favorite journal entry?

The Grey Mourner: Who would you give a delicate flower to, if you could?

Mask Maker: Favorite character design in the game?

Relic Seeker Lemm: Favorite piece of lore? Favorite theory?

Sly: What’s the most Geo you’ve lost at once?

Nailmaster Mato: Which Nailmaster did you meet first? Do you have a favorite?

Nailmaster Oro: What’s you favorite Nail Art to use?

Nailmaster Sheo: Have you played a game like Hollow Knight before? Has this game inspired you in any way?

Nailsmith: Did you earn the Pure Nail? And then did you kill or spare the Nailsmith?

Vengefly King: Do you save or abandon Zote?

Gruz Mother: Were there bosses that you beat the first try?

False Knight: First enemy to you ever died to?

Uumuu: What makes a a boss battle fun for you? What makes it frustrating?

Mantis Lords: Which NPC would you like to fight with as a team?

Traitor Lord: Did you deliver the delicate flower to the grave of the Traitors’ Child?

Crystal Guardian: Favorite bench location? Which one was hardest to find?

Watcher Knights: What bosses stopped you from progressing the longest?

Soul Master: What part of the game do you find most dark or mysterious?

Flukemarm: Who’s the sexiest character in the game?

Dung Defender: Who is your favorite Great Knight?

Hive Knight: Are there any bosses you wish were friends instead of foes?

Broken Vessel: Which character would you bring back to life, if you could?

Nosk: What part of the game scared or shocked you the first time you experienced it? Anything surprise you?

God Tamer: Have you won the Colosseum of Fools? If not, which part is most difficult for you?

The Collector: How obsessed are you with this game?

Markoth: Favorite warrior dreamer battle?

Grey Prince Zote: Favorite boss variant?

The Dreamers: Who’s your favorite Dreamer? Why?

The Pale King: Do you think the Pale King was evil? Why or why not?

White Lady: Do you have any theories about the Higher Beings in Hallownest?

The Radiance: What memory from this game will stick with you the most?

Grimm: Do you like the Grimmchild charm? Use it often?

Brumm: Did you banish the Grimm Troupe? Why?

Divine: Did you get all the unbreakable charms?

Nightmare King Grimm: Which boss battle was the most intense for you? The most satisfying to defeat?

Pure Vessel: What game achievement are you most proud of?

Godseeker: How far have you made it in Godhome?

Lord of Shades: Have you earned all the endings? Which one do you think is the best?

Because I am tumblr unsavvy

As for the question

Is spoilers but yes XD They are intended to show up again in an upcoming fic. Because I cannot stick to my promise to leave things ambiguous for readers to have fun with, lol

(Though a part of me is tempted to write an alternative version where a Different Path gets picked in regards to them showing up)

There may be a oneshot or two that shows up first so I can’t promise they’ll be in the next fic to go up, but they will feature again in an upcoming multichap centered on THK

(Because I also personally love them both and can’t resist)

will Radiance and Seer show up in IBIMM again? dropout ninja doesn't have their ask box open.

Hi Anon!

That's a wonderful question. Hey, @dropout-ninja, your ask box is closed, why don't you answer this nice person?

(gwn)

Personally I hope so because I love them both so much

More fanart for @grollow/@ashyronfire’s Red Sky

Yesterday was apparently the day to draw terrible womens @calowlmitygoddess

Anyway here are the very serious arts I did for @grollow /@ashyronfire’s Red Sky

Bonus very serious art

No mind to think

No will to break

Ur the hollow knight

Unkillable mines?

Invincible shields that cannot be damaged from the front?

You think you’re safe?

Think again

There should be more Ender Lilies art out there, so here’s my part Final boss art! So spoilers under the line

me when we did not go take ibuprofen together

Quick thing I did the other day for @grollow​‘s Living Dead. Spoilers for the latest update!

except no, actually, the true version is here

It will always be 0

Days since @dropout-ninja and I objectified my monster deuteragonist: 0

A Red Sky Grimm I made for @grollow for a shitpost originally, but he got too fancy to simply be used for the shitpost alone.

You would, @grollow​. You would.

My Sad Bois

(Snippet note: The problem is that all but one of my hollow knight fics just goes into this as their master doc because I am too lazy to make multiple docs, so. Alas. Deprived of file names for the bugs for...10 wips, oneshot and multichap.)

Babe and the +1

Hi bird brain, why am I being held hostage

rip rewind

sad naughty spider dads

whoever wants to do this, have funnnn, wip file names always give life

@basilbellona​ @rainbow-scarab​ share if you are comfortable!

Tagged by @sydmarch

RULES: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

-bark bark

-whatcha wearin

-OUR milk

-copoverse

Tagging @proteus-no and @saturno-sol

Like that's the whole fic it's based off XD

Shade lord ghost stuffs pk into the lighthouse "jar" and takes him along for a ride.

Okay but you can't say that and not drop a link

Shit my bad

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45389710

FUCKIN NICE

Have the thing I made for Halloween last year

Little bg practice with one of the most iconic scenarios in @grollow 's White and Gray fic. The tree in the abyss

Got commissioned by @grollow to draw their hooligan variation of grimm, affectionately called grimmlin <3, go sEE HIM IN rED SKY AT MORNING (and also in White and Gray despite that not being his fic. hes just like that. pops up and smile smiles :>)

Get me on the fanclub couch

I was encouraged to post this. This is a "Red Sky At Dawn" (by @ashyronfire /@grollow ) specific meme. I'm calling myself out as an Atlas fanclub member

Sorry Grimm, we love you and your main character POV, but Atlas has that moxie

(Atlas and Nightshade belong to arsonistmoth !)

Edit: I TAGGED THE WRONG PERSON BEFORE, MY BAD

Fanart for this Radi fic of all time by @basilbellona, it is glorious and scrumptious and mortal, dumpster-diving, tiara stealing, absolute fiend Möth delights me

Spoilers for It's Burned Into My Mind and White & Gray — A PK Crossover

A new, ever-present threat (baby-fication)

@dropout-ninja @grollow your crossovers are a sandbox and by god am I going to dig

My favorite map and everyone’s least favorite cereal to eat

For @grollow’s latest W&G chapter, this very quick sketch of two old men being right and wrong and smackable tbh

Brats

(Spoilers under the cut? If I managed the cut right?)

(I did not do it right)

@grollow demands I post this XD

Tea and snacks in moss blanket fort with @grollow @dropout-ninja @basilbellona

Something I made for @grollow the other day and still like it, so it can go on here. Post reference came from here.

Aloud, I Pray For Calmer Seas

Title: Aloud, I Pray For Calmer Seas Rating: T Characters: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel, The Knight Warnings: Mild Body Horror, Suicidal Ideology, Hurt No Comfort, Second Person POV, Nebulous Narrative, It/Its Pronouns For The Knight

Summary:

It means to set you free. There is nothing left of you to save, you think. (But you should not be thinking at all.)

Author’s Notes:

In July of last year, I read a fanfic that I became obsessed with. I basically devoured over 150k words in a single night. I couldn’t put it down. I started writing fanfiction for Hollow Knight in large because of that fic. The first one I finished was Eyes. The first one I started was this. Imagine my surprise when the author of that fic not only went on to read my works, but also became one of my dear friends.

I’ve been too scared to even tell you about this project, let alone show it to you until it was done, @dropout-ninja. Forgive me. I hope this surprise pleases you. This was originally in third person but since I’ve been experimenting more with perspectives/tenses/styles, I figured why not spend an hour converting the entire damn thing to second person.

Aloud, I Pray For Calmer Seas || AO3

Aloud, I Pray For Calmer Seas

It is brave, you think, looking down the line of your broken body. It is braver than you are, to stand in this place and not break under the weight of the sea. The seals hold you fast; you are chained. It does not break them immediately but instead stands to gaze up at you. It watches you with a quiet intensity. There are no words exchanged between the two of you and you are certain that is for the better: this other vessel, small and unruined by the world, is perhaps the empty creature that you should have been, and if that is the case, you will not ruin it by trying words.

You could not make them even if you wanted to. Every thought that you have is filled with sickly-sweet burning that runs so deep within that you wonder if you would ever be able to put the flame out. You are not sure that you want to, even should the opportunity arise. Is this not your punishment, after all, for your failure? Is this not what you deserve, for the masquerade that has cost your king and kingdom everything? To burn eternally? 

It inclines its head to you. It looks side-to-side, and then back up to where you hang lifelessly in chains. You are a corpse that has yet to properly rest, with little difference from the husks that wander outside and attack anyone who passes by on sight. You are certain that there will be no difference, if it should release you. You will fall upon it with your nail and it will be forced to put you out of your misery: misery that you should not have been able to feel, misery that spelled your own ruin, misery that cost Hallownest everything.

It holds up one hand. You gaze down at it, but your vision is a hazy thing, damaged from the pustules that rest over top of your eyes like a veil of sunrise. You can make out that it does not have proper fingers yet and why should it? Without your king’s light, it has never had a need to grow.

(Plants need light. You are part Root, one of three parents, and so you need it, too, in order to flourish and bloom. There is precious little of it here in Hallownest now, but once it was brilliant, pale and cool and welcoming – you remember; it was under that light that you grew, that you flourished, that you matured. It does not have that luxury.)

It touches you. You try to respond, but your legs do not work. You are numb and what movement you can manage is agonised; plagued, horrifically, by the plight of hanging for so long and with so little movement.

It is a comfort, you think, to know that when it releases you to take your place, you will be put down like the dying caricature of purity that you have always been. 

You wish that your executioner did not wear so familiar a face, though. It bears the gaze of someone you knew once and it is painful. You do not recall that face with clarity, but it brings to mind a fear you have no name for and that in and of itself is upsetting.

A word rises through your mind, and then another, and another: It is weak. 

Not the vessel before you, no. Yourself. You are weak and you are afraid. You are not brave enough to refer to yourself outside of third person in cohesive words. No, feelings and images are easier. They have always been but you do not dare call either of them to yourself.

There is something inside this one who stands before you, a titan in a diminutive shell, that is both frightening and welcoming. Cold and terrifying. Warm and inviting.

( – broken shells shattering, so very loud, against stones that defy all reason to fly, that hang heavily in the air – not you, never you, you are faster and you are stronger and you will fight your way to that light; did you push them or did they fall on their own? did it make any difference either way? do you remember? do you know? ) 

She stirs behind your eyes. You feel her, a nest of maggots writhing within your skull and seeping down through your remaining arm and into the cavity where growths linger beneath your armour and cape. You are a ruined altar on which she is worshipped.

You are the vessel.

Both the prison that contains her and the one that grants her eyes into a world that she is largely forgotten in. 

The Temple of the Black Egg is covered in wicked veining and filled with a miasma that could suffocate a lesser being: it chokes in your throat with each breath you take, soundless and heaving. You watch it. You let your gaze follow it, the quiet creature so alike to you and so different. 

It is leaving. It does not release you.

You wonder if it will come back. 

You hope that it will not. 

-

You are dreaming.

You can tell when you dream, although it is always hazy. Sometimes it is sweet memories, places you recall that remind you of a time before your imprisonment. Sometimes it is even your father the king that you see and you are at your weakest in those times.

You have prostrated yourself before a memory enough that you think that you can tell the difference. She delights in proving you wrong by unravelling them time and again, until you fray. You have not broken enough to let her free but the both of you know that it is really just a matter of time. A when, not an if. She uses those sweet memories like a lure and you bite every single time, in spite of knowing better, or perhaps – perhaps because you know better. Perhaps some part of you longs for the punishment that you know would come if you faced Him and He had to see what became of His beloved Hallownest at your tender mercies. Your failures. Your mistakes. Your flaws. 

You do not deserve compassion and you certainly do not deserve to be free. You are the cause of the ruins.

She speaks to you sometimes, to remind you of that. She also speaks to you sometimes to suggest that she would forgive you. It is a lie and you do not want her forgiveness. You do not want anything from her at all.

This dream is strange. It is not at all like the ones that you are accustomed to, where you break under tender ministrations and are reminded, time and again, that all of this could be avoided if you would just let go; if you would just release her and yourself in the process. You harbour no delusions and she does not pretend that you will live through the ordeal.

(you want to die. you want it to be over. you want the pain to stop. you were never meant to survive. that you yet live is testament to how much you have failed and how far you have fallen, how far you are still falling – falling, falling, the sounds of masks breaking, crashing against stones that are lifted into the air and float, in a place with no light but there was light, there was His light, and He was everything to you, and He made you whole and He made you strong and He would never forgive– 

forgive me forgive me forgive me

it should not have been a me –) 

Your armour is polished and shining silver. You have both of your arms. These are not things that you know to be accurate to the waking world. You are whole: the entire shining package, riddled with flaws, feelings and tainted by your own mistakes. You are the Vessel but you are not Pure and you have no voice with which to scream about the atrocities that will come as a result of this mistake. Of your mistake, for it is your fault, it could never be His. The problem lies within you, and you alone. You wish to atone. You wish to fix it. 

Why are you whole?

Why are you here?

It is not her realm, but it is golden and it glitters and you want to rip the pillars apart with claws and tendrils of void until everything below you is but dust. It is bright and you are frightened. Light is an enemy, you recognise this: light represents her. (It represents Him, too, but this is harsh light, you rationalise, and you are so, so scared–)

You think you might be screaming in your head. You think if someone could peek behind the eyes (which work, you realise belatedly: as if you never succumbed to her at all), they would find themself deafened by the words that you are not supposed to know or have, by the thoughts you were never meant to possess, and by the fear that is a tangible thing that takes the form of dawn breaking over a mountain forgotten to the annals of time. 

It changes, then. You are familiar with the manipulation of dreams and them shifting around you is not at all strange anymore. Your nail is in your hands, resting, and you stand looking down at the floor as polished black shell rolls out an ominous welcome: come to me to fail to die. Live an eternal masquerade as something you are not and know that you brought it upon yourself, that you made this choice and you would make it again and again, nothing would change, because this is what you were bred for, this is your purpose and your destiny.

You are being watched and it is not by her. 

There is movement behind you and you turn to see the other of your kind. It is back, but it is not your pathetic, broken body that it beholds this time. It sees you as you once were, as the Pure Vessel primed to fight (to lose against) the blinding light of morning.  It stops to look at you and you are overcome with conflicting feelings. You do not want it there. You do not want it to continue this folly. It can only end badly for it. And what? What ifit does win? What then? You will be free.

That is more terrifying than captivity. 

Your cage’s bars are your own making.

It turns its head down. You recognise the gesture as a bow. You understand, in that moment, two very real and agonising facts: that it is not pure either, and that it has no intentions of taking your place.

It intends to fight through you to the embodiment of fury that you hold within. It is willing to cut you down to do so, but only in dreams. This is why it left. This is why it did not release you from your confines. This is what drove it here – to this place beyond the waking world, where it faces you not in your body that will break under its nail as surely as leaves shatter under the weight of a stag, but in your strongest form. And yet – yet –

If it should succeed, it will face her, and she will hurt it, too. She will break it, as she broke you, and it will be your fault.

( – let it fall once – let it fall so close to the edge so that you did not have competition, so that He would not see – you owe it better – )

You bow back. It is only polite. You were raised by a king, by knights, in the Pale Court 

( – that should have been your home; that would have been had fate dealt you different cards. did they ever love you, could they? do you deserve to be? you do not. a failure deserves to be discarded and forgotten and that is what you are. never forget. hallownest’s blood is in your throat and you are choking on it, asphyxiating without a need to breathe; had you a mouth, you could cough it up all over the floor and have a contrast worthy of respect – you think it would be orange, though, for there is nothing left in you that is not – ) 

and you know all about manners and civility. You never needed them before. You were a statue; a pretty, elegant thing in the corner of rooms, talked over as if you were not there and you listened, you took it all in, you learned. You were not supposed to do any of those things, but osmosis trains a mind, and you have one, even though by all rights and design you should not. You would apologise for that, if you had the capability. To Him. To the thousands of your siblings dead in a place untouched by time. 

But not to the one across from you. It has a mind, too. You are not to blame for that, are you? Is it your fault, as the other weights are? Your frustration manifests in the form of a scream without sound and the armour around you is glass; it shatters, it trembles, it breaks. Time has worn through its efficiency, too. 

It dashes forward, its nail held fast, and you retaliate by raising your own. The metal sings in the quiet of the arena and the glowing white of the seals is haunting. It throws shadows over the floor. It throws shadows over you, too, and you use embrace them.

You teleport.

It does not know how to do that and you are certain that you blindside it when you launch into a forward slash.

You have not won in a very long time. You have not even come close to winning in what feels like an eternity. When did you last catch her off guard? But you have surprised it and that puts you at an advantage. You push it.

You call Soul. 

( – and who had to die to give it to you? you, who have been sapped of all of your strength, who have had it so elegantly drained from you? are you sure it is soul anymore? can you tell the difference between essence and soul any longer? would you know? is there anything left inside of you that she hasn’t ripped apart and used herself to fill in the cracks with? you writhe, you burn, you scream in silence and she cares not, she cares not –

what care has anyone for an empty, hollow thing?

the hollow knight.

you do not deserve to be called that.

you do not deserve to be remembered.

you must win. )

You use that Soul to summon tiny throwing nails that fan out around you in a crescent. Your opponent (your sibling –) dodges under them to slash at you and you raise your nail to parry. It leaps into the air, dancing as if it owns it, on wings of Soul and starlight and it soars overhead.

It slashes and it hits you; you recoil and leap away.

Nails rise up from the floor. It is prepared for that attack; it dodges artfully (it must have seen similar) before vaulting across the arena toward you. You attack again. 

It becomes a dance that should be merry; that should be therapeutic. It is not. There is screaming metal and the rising desperation within you to save it, to stop it from condemning itself to your fate, and to save yourself. You want to die, you think, but you fight like there is still life left in you because terror gives way to resolve and resolve is the one thing that has always been yours. It is the only thing she cannot steal from you, no matter how much she tries and no matter how much undulating beneath the shell her terrible light does. She cannot undo what makes you you. She cannot rewrite your core, and your core is defined by devotion.

To Him.

And now to it, though you suspect it does not know. You are fighting it, after all. You likely seem an obstacle to its eyes.

You would beg its forgiveness – you would prostrate yourself before it, too, had you the capabilities. Let the waves of the sea within its small form crash into you until you are swept away and all that makes you yourself becomes a blank slate. 

But you are a stain and you will spread your pain. There is nothing that can cleanse the sin of your existence. 

It drags on, the fight. You try to heal and spheres of soul keep it from approaching you when you focus. As the duration extends and you are forced to block more and more attacks, you become increasingly frightened, and it manifests in your void. There are tendrils now that you call sometimes, the tempered solid of your shell becoming pliable like the void that you truly are. You use them to keep it at a distance.

You land several hits. It has to heal, too. 

But in the end, you lose.

( you always lose. when was the last time you won? )

You bow your head and wait for a finishing blow. You wonder if you will awaken. You are not sure that you want to. What has the waking world ever offered you but pain? You are crippled by shame and disgust with yourself; even in your prime, before the Infection took everything from you, you are no match for this other vessel. It is what you should have been and you are nothing in comparison to the vast sea that makes up its being.

It touches your face with tiny nubs and you remember.

Oh, you remember, and you hate that you do: you know now why you fear the dark as much as the light, for the dark has every reason to be angry with you for forsaking it and it – it stands before you, a tiny form that basks a fury so deep to drown in.

It is not angry with you. (It should be.) It does not want your pain. (It should.) It is doing this for you.

You wish that it would not.

It presses its forehead to yours. It holds you and for a moment, the terrible shrieking in your mind that is your own and not hers, is silenced. You know a kind of peace that you have not recalled in so long that it feels foreign. You welcome it and lay your head against its; you touch it with the ends of your claws and the fear returns like a tidal wave. It means to ascend. Light dances over your shell and you lift your gaze skyward. You know what melody comes next: the song’s crescendo as it – your sibling, this other vessel – leaps up. 

You are waking up. You are afraid of that, too. Hope has ever been your enemy and you are a stone sinking into waters deeper than you could ever hope to understand.

You do not want it to win. You do not want it to lose. 

( you should not be wanting at all. ) 

-

You ‘wake,’ if it can even be called that. Spellwork unfurls around you like a cloak of light in the darkness. The sound of the chains that bind you into the air is sinister: they creak and groan. You allow yourself to look at them as much as your position will allow. There is a fight happening elsewhere, but you cannot see or hear it; it is connected to you, though, for the burning light within is silent and still. Occupied, instead, by another shadow, one who she does not know as well and on whom her tricks do not work.

It feels as though it lasts forever and you know the second that it is over. Your chains snap, all at once, and you tumble toward the ground, a flightless creature crippled by time and the agonies of your experience.

You land roughly. You hear your shell crack under the strain and you bow your head.

It has won. It has done what you could not, in spite of your best efforts. You will live.

But do you even want to? 

Their arm was stuck halfheartedly lifted. Their hand had meant to cup a tiny face. What lay in front of them now was hardly tiny. Each eye was as large as they... It was so large that they could not see any part of its form but that head. Void curled back from it, as though fluid had been suspended in time, in place. Focused. Aware.

Art for a moment out of @dropout-ninja‘s fic that has not left my brain since I read it. It’s a lovely story and a beautiful scene which I very much enjoyed painting. Cheers :)

Since I was told once again that I don’t share enough shitposts…

…what? If they’re gonna be siblings, then let her poof out too.

I am a broken man for it

(Go read W&G. Go read it. The most fic of our generation. I’m completely empty now that’s there’s no further chapters left to come.)

Everyone congratulate @dropout-ninja; they survived the end of W&G and now I have to write pantheons as my part of the deal lfksdkgknjds

The elopement Realized

So my pals dropout-ninja and ashyronfire had a riveting thread about two of their Hollow Knight fanfic universes interacting (here), and I couldn't Not make art for this crossover: the Post-Divorce Multiuniverse Eloping of IBMM WL and W&G PK

TLDR: angst, angst, angst, fluff/humor and the mixing of two families of the same people except the parents have gone through bug divorces with their universe's spouse

Also, go read their fics, "White & Gray" and "It's Burned in My Mind". They're really fantastic, guys

Here, for the viewing pleasure: the pale families

I wonder what would happen if the timelines of IBIMM and W&G collided and both pale famillies met

I have it on good authority that IBIMM PV would hero worship W&G Hollow. @dropout-ninja, opinions? lmao