die thou, unsung, as tears unshed

𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖉𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖔𝖘𝖆

[c-daz]

✿ 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 + 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✿

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨 ✧

hello!! im daz, though I've previously gone by star, lixx and beni. i usually go by she/her but i really don't mind :)

big fan of media like fnaf, mouthwashing, SIG, musicals, e.t.c, weird kid stuff.

in my freetime i enjoy writing for original characters and fanfics, among other hobbies. I'm open to requests, and the rules are listed below in the T's & C's! ♡

DNI: proshippers, pedos, transphobes/homophobes, lolicons, the usual

I want my blog to be a safe space for all (except the above), so I ask that any visitors refrain from any hateful or discriminatory behavior.

𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬 & 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ✧

no NSFW 🚫

if i get a weird request i will obviously deny

i write for everything else—fandoms, OC's, x reader, x canon, e.t.c

rude requests/being rude on my blog in general will be ignored

requests will be posted publicly unless requested otherwise

my downtime is limited so requests may take a long time to be answered. please bear with me!!

I do not permit my work to be reposted without my explicit permission as something other than just that—my work.

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭? ✧

little snippets of writing, maybe from prompts or just impromptu creative writing

pieces of fanfiction from my current hyperfixation

a few chapters from books I'm writing

some art

𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ✧

i don't want my blog to be hard to navigate, so i will tag my posts with these respective tags alongside the broader ones!

daz writes - snippets of writing, poetry, fanfic, all also tagged accordingly

daz draws - drawings for fandoms or for my original work

daz rants - my tirades and rambles, i expect mostly taken up by my mouthwashing days

daz talks - casual convo

reblog - you get the gist

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✧

*less significant posts may not be listed

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ᖴᗩᑎᗪOᗰՏ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

┆MOUTHWASHING┆

Mono-colour Daisuke fact sheet (alt. clothes)

Once More to See You - Daisuke

Digital coloured Daisuke doodles!

Jim-Dai rant

The Last One and Then Another mini rant

Traditional Daisuke doodles

┆EPIC: THE MUSICAL┆

Circe Saga Hermes art

┆ FNAF ┆

familiar - [game] michael afton art , post ffps

the beast's final lament - elizabeth and mike oneshot/p

┆ A WORLD THAT DOESN'T EXIST ┆

would you?

sword of a lie doodle

┆ HAZBIN HOTEL ┆

valentines from a lonely man's window (pendleton), oneshot

༶•┈┈⛧ OᖇIᘜIᑎᗩᒪ ⛧┈┈•༶

┆ STALEMATE ┆

00 – a boy atop a throne bigger than him

breathe - snippet

༺༻✧ ᗩՏKՏ ✧༺༻

nothing yet ☕!!

[c-daz]

doodle based on the slimeknight fic ever (linked below)

their first spar. it lives in my head forever (and the fact the author made them somewhat evenly matched cus avery might be a legend at skywars but hes facing THE minecraft nerd THIS FIC IS GOLD)

this might not be how it went in the fic but just know i had it in mind while drawing this

[c-daz]

yk people keep saying "L glaze" this "L glaze" that but I think they glaze over how much the show itself glazes L. how much light himself glazes L too, for that matter. after he dies it's basically just

"L would've been able to solve this.."

"oh this horrible terrible obscure thing?? L would've solved that"

"L's never been wrong before.. what if he's right about kira being light.."

"near is far inferior to L"

"L would've seen right through my plans.. he would've considered that I saw through the plans that he saw through that I saw through.."

[c-daz]

a part of me feels bad for saps

i like to think that he died with a look of grim satisfaction knowing that, if not himself, at the very least he saved one person worth far more in his eyes

(alt. colour under the cut)

[c-daz]

tell me lads what's a better feeling than being able to properly enjoy something because you finally decided to actually consume the source media

[void-pitcher]

movie!micheal afton is so funny bc everyone in the fnaf movies is thematically parallel to game!micheal afton, except movie!micheal afton, who’s a parallel to baby

[c-daz]

➢ the beast's lament

Evil is a puffy-eyed little girl lost in a grocery store, desperately looking for a familiar face.

“End communication.”

A trap with no escape, under a crumbling roof that shelters her from everything but her sins. What was once a fiery passion slowly dies with the growing tongues of fire that flanks her on all sides.

Trapped. It was all a trap. Not a gift. It was never a gift, not the present wrapped in a big red bow she had believed it to be.

Thoughts careen past her, they race as she paces with a mindless desperation. The heat almost solders her joints together.

I can't. I can't. Not like this. I have to do something, anything— I have to make him proud, anything to make him proud! I have to do something. Something with my life, at least. Something. Anything.

Her once relentless resolve can't help but crumble with the filthy cheap walls, melting with erratic grace under the inferno. What did she do? What could she have done to deserve this life of hers?

A voice whispers the answer before she could even finish thinking.

Nothing.

That's all she's done. Nothing, nothing remotely outstanding. Just average, average, so painfully average. She had nothing to be proud of. Under her sharp, cold, calculating facade—that's all it was, a nothing more than a facade, something to convince herself she knew more than she did—what did she have? Under her wits. Under her poker-face. What did she have?

The man takes off his mask. His face– his face looks familiar. But it can't be. Nobody was ever familiar, everything and everyone that could've been had packed up and moved away. Away from here. Away from her.

He turns for a moment. His eyebrows furrow. Is she imagining it, the way his very flesh almost seems to hesitate, flickering between alive and something that wasn't quite there? The way his eyes held a faint, luminescent pink buried deep beneath his irises?

For a moment, she thinks he'll run, fight, keep her out like he always does. Like he was no doubt told to do. His expression is unreadable. Fear? Disgust? He's frozen in place, it seems, even among this scalding amber.

And then he's not. His shoulders sag. He relaxes. He smiles—why is he smiling? Why is he still here? Get out. Get out! He takes a step toward her. She tries to yell, but the blaze chokes her throat dry. Scare him. Scare him away, away from this hell, away from this torture! Can't he feel it? Can’t you feel it? Why is he still here? Why does she want him to leave?

The voice returns, it rejects, it insists, the icy, blue-eyed beast. No, he has to stay. Stay and atone. He was a part of the plan after all, she remembered now. It's his fault. It's him, all him and the Cassette Man, all his fault, his fault, his fault. His fault for everything! A murderer, that's what he was. A murderer, though they weren't technically alive.

It's a thought tugging at her brain from the deepest, oldest parts of her, murderer, murderer, murderer, yet another voice argues back. Don't you understand! He's all we have. He's all I have.

The man reaches out. His wrinkled prune of a hand tells of a damage wreaked by something more than fire. She almost reaches back. She catches herself.

No, she knew better. She had nobody. Father said she had nobody, nobody but him. A part of her wished that was true.

But she saw no truth, none in the way his father spoke to their endless metal labyrinth like it could answer with anything more than a child's lofty giggle. Never an embrace, not a hug, not a meaningful word to her. Not even her own father could spare her a second glance.

The man’s hand is still outstretched, a defiant glint in his eyes that says she must take it. She has nobody. Amongst the vast universe, she was nobody. But maybe, if even for just a fleeting second, maybe she could have somebody.

She reaches for his hand. The barrier separating them falls. Good riddance, she thinks. She wants a hug. She wants to feel something more than a hand on hers—how long has it been since she’s had a hug?—and he steps forward too. He raises his other hand. A hug. The thought of it makes her smile. She can't feel the fire anymore. It's nothing.

The last of whatever was holding this wretched place together finally gives way, and his hands just fall short of hers before the building crumbles to ashes.

With a final glance into her brother's eyes—they look kinder now, the kindest she's ever seen them—she succumbs to the void as the evening wind whips the rowdy flames into submission.

And then she was nothing.

they live happily ever after right scottt?? right?? .

honestlt I needed something to satisfy the tragic afton kid itch even though it is a very different, messier writing style but I was just in the feels for these two

[c-daz]

..familiar? people do say that a lot but, uh, i probably just have a celebrity twin or something.

technically william was somewhat of a celebrity if you think about it. or to some extent famous (in their little town of hurricane at least)

[c-daz]

⊞ valentines from a lonely man's window ⊞

"I had a tendency to watch things.. people in particular. It gave me the illusion that I had people in my life."

Pendleton wasn’t a lonely man. At least, he certainly didn’t think of himself as one.

He found that meetings with clients and long, lethargic periods of gazing mindlessly through large colonial windows, observing the happily unaware passers-by, were enough to keep his innate longing for human connection sated. Maybe not healthily so, but sated nonetheless.

Though sometimes, he had to admit, inventions, blueprints, and oil lamps simply weren’t enough to keep him company. It was unfortunately challenging to find comfort in cold, hard, metal, though it wasn't for lack of trying.

And today, as the sun rose on the morn of Valentines, proved to be one of those days. 

One of those dreaded days where his heart couldn’t help but mumble with the dull sting of loneliness, where his chest felt so oddly void of feeling even its absence wreaked a soft pain in its wake. 

Softly combing through his hair, Pendleton tucked the curtains to the side and peered out the window almost instinctively. It was something he had gotten so used to over the years, something to take his mind off his not-loneliness.

He watched as a young couple pranced carelessly by to the tune of the dawn wind’s distant whistle, their faces so unblemished by worry’s gray taint that the bags under his eyes could only retaliate with an envious scoff.

From the bouquet that the woman loosely held in her hands, rose petals broke free of their moorings and left a blood red trail behind them. Nevertheless, the couple faithfully maintained the blissful ignorance that Pendleton couldn’t help but long for.

He vigorously shook his head as if to pry the thought's claws from his mind, but it did little to help. The act prompted his hands to fly to his face to save his glasses from landing in an expensive mess on the floor. Thankfully he succeeded in his endeavor and resumed his observation, his eyes drifting despite his best efforts.

A lady in a meticulously ornate tapered skirt.

A man with a flower tucked into his breast pocket. 

Pendleton soaked it all in as his workshop lay expectantly, still untouched, unable to reel his gaze back.

A hastily drawn curtain over a waiting bedroom. (He looked away for that one.)

Men and women dressed in their best attire, all petticoats and ascots, intricate lace parasols and the most eye-catching timepiece they could find. 

Flowers. So many flowers.

He had lost count of how many he had seen, with all the lovesick fools tainting the sullen gray alleyway with their bubbling laughter, gazing with sickly sweetness into each other's eyes. 

Not in the slightest was he well-versed in the language of blossoms but a part of him longed to be now, just to find respite in the fact that maybe just one could be delivering a message that was anything other than an immense profession of their love for a significant other. 

Even the morning birds sounded like they sang with more passion. 

Pendleton, retreating from the windowsill, heaved a long sigh and turned to his desk. 

He swiped the curtains shut with far more bitterness than he wanted to admit, the room suddenly engulfed in a deep red as he pulled a pair of goggles over his eyes. 

Perhaps he was a little lonely, after all.

a little piece i made for a discord valentines event with very tempting prizes AND it also conveniently doubles as a valentines post, three birds with one stone

[c-daz]

♔ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄 ♚

00

A boy atop a throne bigger than him.

Perfect.

Ezra’s coronation had to be perfect.

Disgustingly lavish, it was only a little more than a disdainful exhibition of their riches. The halls were decked with their most expensive ornaments, refreshments served on the finest china they possessed. Privilege oozed from the golden embellishments, from between the spaces in the checkered tiles that lined the floors, from the light that reflected off the luxurious jewellery dangling from the necks of the highest of high class.

The weight of the thousands of leering eyes now observing his every move, like a predator ready to pounce if he made even the most subtle of mistakes, threatened to buckle his knees and make him crumple to the ground, a marionette pardoned from its strings.

From where he stood, it was a fitting metaphor. He was nothing more than a performer caught in a twisted play; a drama where he was forced to adorn a crown and smile like the very idea did not repulse him.

When he stepped up to sit on the grand throne that had accommodated hundreds before him, the thought clung to his mind, unshakeably stubborn. He did not dare meet any of the guests’ eyes, only drawing his eyes away from the space above their heads when an unfamiliar man approached him, the crown in his gloved hands handled as if it would shatter at a stray gust of wind. Ezra could only bow his head and resign himself to the inevitable.

The crown, golden arms embracing the plush velvet cushion at its heart, settled onto his head, taking its place among his chestnut curls. His neck very nearly betrayed him, faltering for barely a second under the unexpected weight of it. The icy shock soon dissipated, though the cold metal biting into his scalp was worthy compensation.

It was then that Ezra wanted nothing more than a sinkhole to open up beneath him and pull him so deep into the ground, he could rearrange the kingdom’s drainage system with his own hands. Ironically, it wouldn't make it any worse than it already is.

But, unfortunately, the show must go on.

Gritting his teeth behind his mechanical, practised smile, Ezra forced himself to meet the people’s eyes. The hall erupted in a damp cheer, intangible, hollered statements scattered among the cacophony.

He was King.

Yet he had never felt less like one.

[c-daz]

hes about to give you a taste of the power

[c-daz]

i personally could not go a year w/o wifi

reference below!!

⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

[c-daz]

"in the rear view mirror,

I saw the setting sun

on your neck

and felt the taste of you

bubble up inside me."

BRO IT'S SO BAD I CAN'T. I SPENT SO LONG ON IT TOO UGH I'M GONNA START TWEAKING OUT 💔💔 might remake it when my hands don't ache as much 😞😞

mitski my love.. daisuke my love.. UGHHH ☹️☹️☹️☹️

[c-daz]

unpopular opinion (?) but i personally think the mouthwash fish in the last one and then another isnt swansea, but daisuke

swansea shows no remorse in drinking while the mouthwash fish is sick of it (e.g. "I'm not sure I like this funny water anymore.." e.t.c) much like daisuke in mouthwashing, who states something along the lines of "Just take it. I don't think I can look at this stuff anymore." (my shayla 😞)

and yes this is your sign to watch a the last one and then another playthrough ❤

[c-daz]

my skrunkly daisuke doodles

(transcript if you can't read my trash handwriting:

FIRST PSYCH EVAL!

🌺: ..vegan? nah im a saggitarius

💊: Okay.. totally unrelated question, but how many hours of sleep did you get last night?

🌺:I dunno. Like, 2 ½?

💊:Daisuke, sleep is vital to the–

🌺: 😴

💊: Eeexactly.)

anya was a little cautious around daisuke when they first met, i mean he does look/act like he doesn't take anything seriously (which he doesn't 😭) and he's a bragger

anya is just cautious of men in general but she warmed up to dai (and soon after she was yelling at him because he was winning a suspicious amount of uno games)

wdym ship crash?? who's jimmy? curls, anya, and dai are all silly friends in college studying for their degree and they obviously live happily ever after!! (theyre best friends in another world ☹️)

[decemberwinter]

what do you mean elon musk did a nazi salute on live tv at the united states presidential inauguration twice and is now erasing the evidence off the internet by replacing the footage with the crowd cheering instead?

would be a shame if people reblogged this, wouldn’t it?

[c-daz]

i watched kubz scouts play mouthwashing (my second time watching a playthrough) and i noticed the only person jimmy actually somewhat mourns is daisuke. so im here to finally contribute to the over analyst part of the fandom and tell you why I personally think that is:

1) daisukes death wasn't directly inflicted by him, so he doesn't have that self-bias that he has with the others' deaths. he was less responsible for dai's death which puts him in a place to self-righteously frown upon swanseas actions (probably to take some of the weight off his shoulders as well) and blames him entirely, calling swansea a "monster" and telling swansea he could've fixed it, which, let's be real, he's doing no such thing 😭🙏🙏

2) daisuke's young, and Jimmy had a better relationship with him than Anya and Swansea. this is the less convincing point of my tangent but Jimmy DID have a sort of friendly relationship with daisuke, even engaging in lighthearted–outwardly, at least– conversation with him.

bonus:

now i might be OVERover analysing, but the little hallucination with daisukes dumbbells and gameboy might've signified how daisukes youth played into the grief Jimmy felt for that particular crew member. this is definitely my weakest point but yeah. i just love dai too much (if you've seen my blog you'd know 💔😭)