#I just wanted to really focus on their expressions here

[egophiliac]

Hi there! I really love your comics and how expressive they are. How do you go about making the characters in your comic so expressive?

thank you! 💚💜💚 I am REALLY bad at explaining things, so my apologies if this doesn't make a lot of sense, but maybe there's something helpful in here somewhere. :')

1. warm up! drawing is a physical activity, after all! so if I'm planning on sitting down and drawing for a while, I usually start off by taking a couple of minutes to doodle a bunch of circles and lines and random shapes, just to get my drawing arm goin' again and get back into the physical groove. just stuff like this:

and just do that for however long you feel like! you can kind of feel when your arm starts to loosen up and your strokes get more confident. it makes it a lot easier to get those swoopy big lines and gestures!

2. play around with how you use your lines! paying attention to the shapes that they're making will change a lot about how much force and life your drawing feels like it has. (no way is better than another, it just depends on what effect you're going for and how it looks as part of the larger whole.)

and you can also use lines against each other to get different vibes:

it's not really a matter of "you need to make sure all your lines are always doing this all the time", it's more like...being aware of it, and getting that into the general thrust of a pose, if that makes sense? like a lot of smaller lines of action, beyond the big one that goes through the spine.

(just gonna use my own art as examples, apologies)

if you have a good foundation of tension, then all of the little bumps and contours of a character's details won't get in the way of it, and it'll still come through.

and don't forget about negative space either! the spaces between things have their own interesting shapes too!

I don't mean this to come off as, like, all these extra things that you need to be constantly thinking about and stressing over. more like...just try different stuff and then see how it works and how it changes the feeling! if you find a good shape, see if you can exaggerate it and make it more interesting, and how that affects things! angles and shapes are a LOT of fun to experiment and mess around with, especially when you're going more cartoony. :D

3. acting!

just...spending a little time to think about what the characters are actually doing! (aka the "figuring out what everyone is doing with their hands" bit.) this is more a personal preference, but especially in multi-panel comics, I like to have them be in the middle of doing stuff. not just big actions, but smaller things -- like even just how they're sitting or standing -- so that it feels like we're looking in on the middle of a scene, instead of a couple of characters just standing around neutrally and staring straight ahead while talking at each other.

this probably sounds really obvious, but it is one of the most fun parts for me! I love trying to find some little action or something that they can be involved in, especially if it's relevant to their character or adds an extra joke. (for some reason this usually involves me being mean to Sebek) (I'm sorry)

it doesn't need to be everyone Always! Doing! Something! all the time, especially if starts becoming distracting (sometimes they do actually need to just be standing around neutrally and staring straight ahead, especially if there's a bigger action going on that you want the audience to focus on instead). but even just figuring out some kind of non-neutral pose for them to be in can add a lot and make it feel less generic!

3. thumbnailing!

this is, again, very much a personal preference; unfortunately, every artist really is different, and we all have different processes that work better for us. so I can only speak to my personal experience! but I find what helps is to start REALLY rough -- not so much as in messy, as in not trying to start right into actually drawing everything out. like, literally just starting with stick figures and :O faces.

it probably doesn't sound relevant when talking about Drawing Expressively, but I find it's really, really helpful to have already figured out what everyone should be doing (acting!) and what the overall general layout and flow of things should be, before getting into the actual meat of drawing the characters. like having a sketch for the sketch!

(good compositional flow is something I struggle with, and text layout especially, so this stage also helps a LOT with making sure things are fitting where I want them and staying consistent/not breaking screen direction/etc.)

then after that, I can go ahead and focus on getting those Shapes and Lines and Angles and all that, without having to think too much about the layout or where things should go!

(of course, the downside of that is that my thumbnails are usually way better than my actual drawings, alas alas.)

4. this is more philosophical, but...give yourself some slack. the stress of Making Things Look Good is, ironically, often the biggest problem. (see: thumbnails looking better than the actual drawings.) so...let yourself draw shittier and without regards to accuracy. make things just for yourself without thinking about posting or showing them to anyone else. draw stupid faces and wrong proportions because they feel better that way. focus on what's fun and not on getting a perfect end result. "draw expressively, not well", as they say -- you can always tighten up things like proportions and details later, if you really want to.

that's all WAY easier said than done -- god knows I haven't really managed it -- but even just aiming for that attitude really, REALLY helps. if your lines are confident, they'll look a lot more alive and expressive than lines that are exactly technically precise but have no rhythm in them. (this is why tracing photographs tends to look so weirdly stiff and unrealistic, by the way -- even if you're drawing realistically, you usually need to exaggerate and stylize a little bit so it doesn't look lifeless.) it's a balance between caring about what you draw, but also being willing to let things go a little bit.

↑ I hope some of this helps! I don't know if any of this was actually what you had in mind, let alone much of it actually made sense outside of my head. :') but hopefully you (or other people) will be able to get something out of it!

#art #twisted wonderland #(not really related but since that's what the examples are) #i'm so sorry most of my art advice boils down to 'SHAPES ARE FUN' #(they are though)

[essektheylyss]

for the ask game: 🧡🖤💚

🧡: What is a popular (serious) theory you disagree with?

Until I see definitive proof that Ludinus is in fact as old as he wants people to believe he is, I will not believe it. I don't even really have an opinion on how old he is; I just don't think he's as old as he tries to suggest. And lest it be said that I am playing favorites, the thing about Ludinus is that he talks the way Essek talks in 91—and there are a lot of things Essek says at that dinner that I take with a good heaping of salt. It's this sense that they're talking around things that they would rather people not question; they're both very skilled at talking around things in a way where they aren't outright lying, but they'd rather you not think too hard about it because there's shit they're not saying. To be clear I also won't be mad if there does turn out to be some evidence in canon that he is that old, but thus far, there is nothing definitive, and I do not take the word of unreliable NPCs at face value.

🖤: Which character is not as morally good as everyone else seems to think?

I don't think this is really an unpopular opinion at this point, but Jester. Nice =/= good. I don't think she's evil, by any means! But her morality is a lot more complex than it's given credit for and I think it's one of the things that is most interesting about her. I'd actually consider her largely amoral; it's just not really an axis of consideration that she worries about. She doesn't want people to hurt her or her friends and she doesn't want something to destroy the world, but otherwise she doesn't really care much about what someone's morality is. "Just don't be evil to me" is an incredible sentiment for a reason. She cares more that Essek said they were his friends than the fact that he's the traitor they've been looking for. Ludinus is so insignificant to her despite his literally world-spanning evil plots that she has basically forgotten him six years later, even though two members of her friend group have spent the last six years trying to pin him down. Jester is hilariously amoral and I love that for her.

💚: What does everyone else get wrong about your favorite character?

[cracks knuckles] OKAY, this is where I've got receipts, because hooo boy do I have an opinion and I will be proving it.

Essek does not have an opinion on the Prime Deities. He does not really have much of an opinion on religion. He actually does not by the end of the campaign have any real issue with the Luxon, and frankly he primarily expressed issue with the Dynasty's worship because, until he got to Aeor, he wasn't certain that the Luxon was a real entity at all—which he contrasts against the Prime Deities, in fact!—and he seems to believe there is compelling evidence in Aeor that categorically disproves his hypothesis that the beacons are simply constructed Age of Arcanum devices.

Originally he is mostly concerned that the Luxon religion is used as a "crutch" which is "distracting them from what other good things they could do with the time and focus". He does specify that any religion can be used as such, but he only remarks upon the one he knows. His theory about the beacons, as of episode 91, is that they may be "artifacts designed in the Age of Arcanum that have been misread" that could be put to even further use.

He also does parrot the Dynasty party line in their first meeting about the Luxon being "the basis of how we've been able to free ourselves from the binds of the lineage the Betrayer Gods left for us", and while I do not take him at face value here (see the above commentary about unreliable NPCs), I doubt the truth of this statement is lost on him, considering his familial connections to Bazzoxan, which I can only imagine would not exactly endear one to the Betrayers, though this is only conjecture. If we do care to take him at his word here, it's not unreasonable, since he obviously has a lot more interest in the power offered by the beacons than anything else.

With all that being said, his tune on the Luxon itself has at least changed by the time they get to Aeor. He discusses iconography found in Aeor and when prompted by the Nein about whether the beacons were created by mortals, says, "I do not believe that they are made by anyone but the Luxon. They are of the Luxon. But they've been around since the Luxon's been in Exandria, which is the beginning."

So we started with him largely apathetic to religion, uncertain if this god was real, and by the time we circle back to him, he has now sided fairly definitively with the fact that the Luxon is an entity that has been around since at least the Founding. (For those keeping track at home, this is longer than Predathos has been around. In the Dynasty's creation myth, it may also have been around before the Prime Deities arrived, which is technically not incompatible with the creation myth of Exandria at large, but I digress.) Like most of Exandria, and as is perfectly reasonable for both his culture and his region, he probably doesn't have any love for the Betrayer Gods, but doesn't express much opinion if any on the Prime Deities. He has no time for religion, but frankly, he doesn't have time for much except for his own research, so it's hard to really ascribe any noted contempt to that.

Like, look, I've written plenty of religious trauma Essek fic, and I don't doubt that that element of it exists, but overall, in terms of canonical statements, it's pretty tame.

With that being said, I do want to fast forward a bit to draw attention to something else. Because I actually do think he ends the campaign with some measure of respect for, at the very least, the Wildmother.

In 140 after the Raise Dead fails, he talks briefly with Fjord about the unfairness of it. Fjord passively directs him to "if you were to ask my wise friend Caduceus..." Immediately after this exchange, Essek challenges Caleb to not accept defeat, and admits he wishes there was more that he or any of them could do, but concedes that, "Unfortunately, this type of magic is beyond my purview."

Immediately after this exchange, Caduceus asks for divine intervention.

Of course, he then spends several weeks gardening in a temple to the Wildmother, and seems to find some genuine clarity and perspective there, but I think this alone is enough to argue that, for a person as driven by empirical evidence as Essek, this sequence of events in 140 would be plenty to earn a wizard's respect.

So my formal belief is that Essek is not in fact anti-god or anti-religion, let alone against the Prime Deities. My opinion is that it's very easy to imagine him on his post-campaign travels leaving a small offering at any shrine of Melora he might pass, not out of actual worship but as a sign of respect.

#unpopular opinion meme #this got so long and it's late cuz I had to go pull receipts but I am correct on all counts 😤 #but since it's long and I did cite my sources I'll also toss it in #cr meta

[avonne-writes]

Gale’s oral fixation + John’s big thighs 😍❤️‍🔥

Criminally hot 🔥 I had to write a drabble. This is set in my modern AU where they're postgrad students and best friends with benefits already in love with each other but scared to confess it.

Exam papers flutter on the desk of Gale's supervisor as the fragrant spring breeze swirls in through the open window. The Astrophysics department's small office smells like old bookshelves, leather and coffee, more comforting than the Business School's sterile ultramodern building. But John isn't here to examine the decor - he came to entertain Gale because he thought it was unfair that he had to be holed up inside, grading papers when the weather was so nice.

That, and because John wanted to kiss him.

It's all he can think about lately. His best friend's lips, their plump cushion under his own, the taste of them, soft skin between John's teeth. Given their amazing, perfect, completely causal agreement that they'd help each other out quick and easy if needed, he didn’t have any hangups about it. But he did think it would be weird to just ask to make out without an end goal, so he pretended to be horny as an excuse, even though he wasn't.

He just didn't count on Gale being the one who'd be too turned on to resist a quickie right where they could be caught anytime.

"Jesus Christ, Buck." John hisses in the rolling chair of Gale's supervisor, his hips twitching to thrust into Gale's hand. In the grip of Gale's pale fingers, he throbs with hot need, Gale's spit slicking his length to make the friction just right as Gale strokes him. "Warn a guy next time."

"Warn?" Gale asks, lust low in his voice. He’s kneeling between John's spread legs, halfway under the desk. With his free hand, he tugs John's trousers and boxers down to bare his thighs completely.

"We started this whole thing because you said it would be convenient. That we could have each other anytime, no strings attached." He presses his lips to John's right thigh and bites down gently, his teeth digging into John's muscle. "I want you now."

"Fuck." John breathes out, gripping the armrests. He needs to swallow the moans already pressing at his throat, the guttural, helpless noises he tends to make in Gale's bedroom, because they're one curious professor away from scandal. "Can we close the window at least?"

"Nah." Gale nuzzles his thigh again, the corner of his lips curling into a smile. "I know you'll be a good boy, John."

John throws his head back against the headrest. "I'm really not."

He feels the huff of Gale's laugh on his leg. "Yes, you are." Gale sucks on a strip of John's skin noisily until it colours pink, sensitive. His expression is pure bliss. "My good boy."

A surprised whimper escapes John's throat. "What?"

Gale freezes for a moment, as if caught, but he goes back to rubbing and kissing John's thigh a second later. "Nothing."

"I don’t know what came over you." John mumbles breathlessly, slouching in the chair to give Gale better access to his cock, to chase Gale's teasing hand. His own fingers find their way to Gale's blond hair and tug as Gale leaves a hard bite on the meat of his thigh to mirror his work on the other side.

When Gale bats his right hand away, he puts the left on Gale's head instead. Gale gives him an exasperated look, then sits back on his haunches to get away from his demanding touch. His eyes roam over John's body lazily, his fist still moving up and down.

"You didn't sit like that on purpose?"

"Hm." John hums, pushing into Gale's hand. The chair rolls back a little, so he tightens the cradle of his legs around Gale's torso to stay in place. "Like what?"

"Like you wanted your dick sucked."

John closes his eyes as a wave of heat rolls down from the top of his head to his toes. "You have an oral fixation, I swear."

"Uh-huh." Gale just hums, his entire focus on John's cock now. He strokes his left hand over the bruises he sucked into the meat of John's right thigh, then he cups John's balls.

"Ah, fuck. You don’t even deny it."

Gale looks up at him from under his lashes as he leans forward. His body warm between John's thighs, his lips glistening.

"Why deny it?" He shrugs and kisses the tip of John's cock. Closing his eyes, he runs his pink tongue up the underside of it to the head, catching the drops of moisture beading there slowly from the torturous pleasure he inflicts on John's body. When John grunts, Gale looks at him again. There’s a playful glint in his eyes. "Be a good boy now, Bucky."

John puts his right hand back on Gale's head and presses his left fist to his mouth as hot, warm suction slides down his length and pulls his pleasure right out of his soul. Shadows pass behind the opaque glass of the door opposite him, people walking down the corridor. The star charts on the walls mirror the stars he sees behind his eyes as Gale sucks him leisurely, without a care in the world. No one walks into Astrophysics at four p.m. on a Friday, right? John prays, and squeezes his eyes shut against the pleasure as he thrusts into Gale's mouth.

He's gonna cancel his plans of going out and take Gale home again tonight.

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #john egan #gale cleven #my writing #ta au #fwb au #carnevol

[txttletale]

what would you say are the most over/underrated episodes/arcs of doctor who?

i think 'girl in the fireplace' is by far the most overrated episode of nuwho. rings of akhaten is maybe a close second (people just remember the speech being good and forget the rest of the spidoe, which was boring), but girl in the fireplace just straight up sucks and has next to no redeeming features except the incredible prop and costuming work on the clockwork robots. weird creepy story that sidelines the companions to focus on the doctor's Awesome Grooming Adventure. a bizarre focus on a B-list historical fdigure that then also doesn't really care about actually exploring that figure or what she even did. there's nothing in here that moffat wouldn't revisit and do better in the girl who waited or deep breath--a total dud of an episode to me.

other than that, i want to give a special mention to the zygon inversion, where capaldi delivered a moving speech so well that everyone's forgotten that in the context of the episode that speech makes no sense and is essentially telling oppressed people to cope and seethe. that two-parter is very loudly saying very vile islamophobic things and it's insane that people miss that. Sucks!

um. that said though the most underrated arc is definitely the entire capaldi era imo. especially the early episodes--among like, enfranchised fans, 'capaldi starts geting good during season 9' is a pretty common take and i hard disagree, season 8 is grea.t it has two really huge misfires in kill the moon and in the forest of the night, and danny's whole unbearable existence is a big thorn in the series' side, but like, time heist, mummy on the orient express, flatine--there's some incredible stuff here! deep breath is good, dammit, it's a good episode and the worst stuff about it is the paternoster gang still being there as a matt smith-era hangover.

it's hard for me to answer for classic who because i don't really have a good idea of what's liked or disliked about the old series, beyond, like, all the universally beloved classics, which i generally think are pretty good and don't have many super controversial opinions about, and all the universally hated bombs, which i don't have that many controversial opinions about either. i guess i don't think the invasion of time is that bad? i generally like gallifrey-as-useless-obstructive-stagnant-bureaucrats a lot more than gallifrey-as-distant-elf-gods, which i think counts as an 'underrated' and 'overrated' arc, respectively.

#ask #transient-angel #doctor who

[riri-twix]

Can We Become We?

Chapter 3: So Much, Yet So Little

Summary: Satoru, Suguru, and you are forced into a marriage by your families for economic reasons. Satoru who doesn’t know what it’s like to love or be loved. Suguru who believes he is undeserving of anyone’s love. And you who didn’t want to love in the first place.

The three of you agree to stay out of each other’s business, and save the relationship acts only for the elders who imposed this on you. But what happens when feelings for each other start to develop?

She/her pronouns for reader | use of y/n | no smut in in this chapter

You can also read it on ao3 here

When everything was finally over, it was way past midnight. A majority of the guests had already filed out of the building, while the remaining few were gathered in small clusters, quietly chatting among themselves – the elders probably.

The whole wedding passed by in a whirlwind of activity, a blur of colour and sound that your mind couldn't quite grasp. The whole time, it was difficult to ignore the unfamiliar light weight around your ring finger.

All you could really focus on was maintaining that smile on your face, feeling the ache in your jaw from keeping it there for so long. It almost felt like your face was going to get stuck like that.

The night breeze was cool on your skin as you exited the wedding hall, grateful to breathe in some fresh air. You could finally drop the fake smile. Satoru and Suguru had moved to the side, each of them standing in front of their respective parents as goodbyes were being said.

Your father steps forward and takes your hand, looking you directly in the eye. “I know this wasn't what you wanted, but you need to be strong.” He says gently, his voice laced with a mix of concern.

You just nod, pulling your hand out of his grasp.

“It’s getting late, we’ll let you go.” Your mother smiles softly. "We’ll miss you so much. But please come visit us soon, alright?”

“Yeah, of course.” You try to keep your voice neutral, but you can't help but feel a little resentment towards your parents.

You knew that if you expressed your true feelings, it would only lead to more drama and stress, and you were tired of the fighting. Instead, you simply offer a tight-lipped smile and mutter a quick goodbye.

You turn around, without giving them a hug. Nothing felt real, as if it was all just some kind of dream.

A gleaming, white limousine was waiting for you, Satoru, and Suguru. The sleek car stood out against the darkness.

You’ve never been inside a limo before. You always thought that if you were going to get the chance one day, it would be so much fun, to feel like a literal celebrity. But all you felt like was a robot on autopilot.

The chauffeur, a stout, middle-aged man in a dark suit, opened the rear door for you. He offered you a polite smile and ushered you inside. The smell of freshly cleaned leather and pine air fresheners welcomed you into its embrace, as you sink back into the plush seat.

After you, Suguru enters the limo. You exchange a brief glance with him as he gets in, but neither of you says anything. Satoru follows suit, before the chauffeur closes the door. Soon, the car pulls away from the curb, silently and smoothly, like a ghost on wheels.

Between the three of you, no one speaks. And it stays like that for a while. You don’t really care though, not with the way your cheeks were hurting. Talking was the last thing on your mind right now.

You're tired, you're emotional, and above all, you're done. You’re so done with everything.

You lean your head against the window, letting out a deep, exasperated sigh as your muscles finally release the tension they've been carrying. The cool glass feels soothing against your skin. You close your eyes, focusing on breathing.

Tap tap

You frown, shrugging away the light poking on your shoulder.

Tap tap tap

“What?” You murmur groggily, not quite ready to open your eyes.

“Y/n?” That was Suguru, his voice soft but insistent. “We’re here.”

Your eyes flutter open into a squint, vision unfocused as you lift your head up from the glass. Wait what? Did you fall asleep?

“Oh.” You mumbled, trying to shake off the exhaustion that still clings to you. “I fell asleep.”

“It's okay.” Suguru says again, his tone comforting in its familiarity. For a brief second, you’re grateful that he’s being nice.

Satoru rolls down his window as a rather polite looking man with short, black hair and glasses walks up to the limo.

The man bows respectfully, arms by his sides, before straightening up again. “Sir.” He says his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Stop calling me that, Ijichi.” Satoru extends his hand out of the window, his face stoic and expressionless. “Just call me Satoru.”

Ijichi, who had been standing at attention, relaxes slightly at Satoru's words. The man produces a small set of keys from his pocket and places them in Satoru's waiting palm, before Satoru wraps his fingers around them.

Ijichi’s voice takes on a shy, almost meek tone. “You know I can't do that, sir.” He replied, a light blush growing more visible on his cheeks. “Just call me if you need anything, sir.” Satoru nods dismissively at that, and he stepped aside.

The driver takes off again, the car's wheels roll along the quiet residential road, until it eventually slows to a stop.

You blink and suddenly the fatigue of the night's events disappears. The house is not too big, no where near the grandiose of the Gojo estate, but it definitely wasn’t small either.

Satoru is quick to spring into action. Without wasting a second, he thrusts open the car door and leaps out, his movements swift and fluid. It’s fascinating, how a man with such long limbs has such precise mobility.

Suguru stays seated next to you, his eyes glued to the house in front of him. Was he overwhelmed by all of this? Should you comfort him?

Hesitating, you push the silent question away, and instead reach out to open the door. But before you can even touch the handle, the door is suddenly opened by the chauffeur.

A wave of irritation suddenly washes over you.

You suppress a frustrated huff and step down onto the pavement. You know he was just doing his job and all, but for some reason, you wanted to open the door by yourself. Annoyed, you pull at the hem of your dress with one hand to make sure it doesn't get dirty.

Satoru had already reached the wide front porch, slipping the key into the door’s lock. As you make your way to him, you notice the familiar silhouette of your car parked in the driveway of the house, beside one other. Someone must’ve dropped it off here.

Satoru had moved to the side, letting you and Suguru step through the threshold and onto the small foyer, before shutting the door. The automatic lock clicks, and the reality of everything hits you like a ton of bricks.

The atmosphere immediately shifts to something tense and awkward. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, not really sure of your place in this situation. What do you do know? Can you just walk in or…?

When Suguru decides to speak up, you felt like you could breathe again. “We need to sit down and discuss this.” His voice is calm and measured, as if he knows exactly what to do in a situation like this.

Satoru, on the other hand, looks like he’s had enough of the playing nice and pretending they’re all happy when they’re not. He shakes his head, a mixture of frustration and annoyance evident on his face.

“Discuss what exactly?” Satoru says, his voice sharp.

“This.” Suguru’s eyes narrow. “All of this.” He gestured broadly at the room and everything it contains. “And us.”

His bun, which was normally full and round, was now sagging lower on his head, weighing down from the strain of the long day. And yet, even with his hair less than perfect, it didn’t make him look any less stunning.

Satoru's lip curls into a sneer. “There is no us.” He spits, cold and biting. “There is just you, and you, and me.” He pointed at Suguru, then you, then at himself. “I said to stay out of each other’s business.”

Suguru's hand runs down his face, his eyes closing as he takes a deep, calming breath. I know that, and I said I agree with it.” Don’t groan. “But it's not that simple.” He opens his eyes, looking directly at Satoru. "We have to sit down and list everything, talk and work something out."

Your eyes dart back and forth between them, lips sealed tight to avoid adding any more fuel to the fire.

Satoru doesn’t nothing for a moment, as if he was thinking. Then his whole demeanour changes. “You wanna sit down and talk?” He scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Fine then.”

He turns on his heel, walking down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps echoes through the empty house. You and Suguru have no choice but to follow.

You take your seats on the couches, facing each other, the air heavy with unease. Satoru crosses his arms, a sneer on his face as he nods with his chin. “Go on, curtain bangs.” He snarls, his tone thick with contempt. “Talk all you want.”

Suguru feels a pulse throb on the side of his temple. Satoru’s attitude was really starting to piss him off. But he breathes. Control yourself. “Okay, so first things first. Are we all getting our own private space?”

Satoru’s expression remains stoic and cold, but you can see a slight edge to his voice as he responds. “If this is about bedrooms, then yes.” Blunt and to the point. “There are plenty of rooms to go around. Pick whatever.”

As the words sink, something in your heart settles.

You’ve heard that, generally, most people have sex on their wedding night. And you can’t deny the fact that, while the thought had been looming in the back of your mind the whole day, you kept telling yourself that nothing would happen. Because in the end Satoru and Suguru were forced into this too.

You were more than reassured now.

“Okay.” Suguru nods. “Now, what about everything in the house.”

“What about it?” Satoru raises his perfect, white eyebrow at Suguru, and your heart skipped a beat.

“It is yours after all. We’re basically living here as guests, are we not?”

Okay, Suguru’s point makes sense. Satoru didn’t choose for you to live here with him, it was an obligation. It’s only fair if he sets the rules.

Satoru's response is as cold as ever. He shrugs, as if to say he doesn’t give a shit. “Just don’t come into my room.” His voice was devoid of emotion. “And keep your business in your own rooms.”

You look at him in confusion, trying to understand what he meant by that. “Business?” Your eyebrows furrow.

But he only scoffs. “What? You think I’m stupid or something?” He sneers at you both, every word coming out of his mouth was bitter. “Don’t act like you’re not gonna be screwing around.”

Well that felt like a personal slap to your face. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” You scowled. Was he seriously accusing you of bringing random people to fuck with? As if it was that easy? You couldn’t even rizz yourself up in front of a mirror let alone a whole other person!

“Pretty sure it was self explanatory.” Satoru rolls his eyes. “But like I said, I don’t care. This,” He takes his ring off his finger. “Means nothing to me. Do whatever the fuck you want.” As if to drive the point home, he tosses it on the coffee table.

The room is silent for a moment before Suguru speaks up, his voice firm and steady. “Okay. Well, it’s settled then.” He picks up the ring and puts it back into Satoru's palm, curling his finger over it. “We’ll stay out of your room, and we should be fine.”

“Whatever.” Satoru stands up and walks away, leaving the two of you behind.

He didn’t want anything do with you, or anyone. Everyone was the same anyway. Just greedy slobs who only cared about what they could get from him. It wasn't just a feeling he came up with overnight, it was something he knew from experience, having been used and hurt in the past by people he had let close to him.

He’s let himself open his heart before. He let himself touch and be touched. Only for the person who ‘loved’ him only act that way for his father’s money. After they got what they wanted, they had spilled the news that they never actually loved him.

The very next day, he saw them share a post with their partner, showing off their newest car. The car he had bought as a gift.

It was just one person, he tried to tell himself. He needed to have hope.

He waited some time before opening up again. This time, the one who proclaimed love lasted longer than his previous one. He was staring to believe that their promise of forever might be real.

Until they asked for a huge amount of money for their project overseas. Satoru wouldn’t say no to someone he loves right? Except, they to left him right after their project succeeded.

Satoru realised that he would only be a fool to believe anyone ever again. No one was ever going to love him. Just his money and his father’s money. There was no point in anything. He couldn’t care less about you and Suguru.

But despite all this, there's a part of him that's still searching for connection and love. He's afraid of getting hurt again, but he's also lonely and longing for something real.

The soft pillow cradles your head as you stare up at the ceiling. You don’t know how long you’ve been awake. There was only the rise and fall of your chest. The bed you were on is so soft, so comfy. One would think you’d have blacked out the moment you touched it, considering how tired you were. But you couldn’t.

Your eyes were sore. You sigh and roll over, trying to force your eyes closed, but it's no use. Your mind wouldn’t switch off.

Suddenly you hear it. The soft, mournful notes of a violin fill the air, piercing through the silence of the night. (Violin playing)

At first, you're not sure if it's real or just a part of your sleep-deprived imagination. But as the music continues to play, the sound becomes more distinct, and you realise that it's coming from somewhere outside.

You make your way to the window, eyes straining in the dark as you search for the source. Then you see him. Satoru. He wasn’t asleep either? You slide the window open.

The night air was cool, but Satoru seemed to hardly notice the chill. He stood still on the back porch, with nothing but the moonlight illuminating his figure with a silver lining. The white hair on his head seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

He held his violin under his chin, the bow in his other hand, moving effortlessly across the strings as he played a melancholic melody. It was a hauntingly beautiful sound that seemed to echo through the night, filling the air with a sense of loneliness and longing.

He looks otherworldly.

Suddenly, weariness takes hold of you, wrapping a comforting blanket over your body. You feel your shoulders relax, your limbs growing heavy. You sink into the comfort of your bed once more. Your eyes drifted to a gentle close, listening as the sounds float in through your window.

Meanwhile, Suguru wasn’t sure if he’d be able to sleep at all.

On one hand, the bed is incredibly soft, and he's grateful to have a place to rest. On the other hand, he feels like he doesn't deserve it. He's used to sleeping on much stiffer, less comfortable mattresses, and the idea of sleeping on anything this heavenly? It feels almost wrong.

He couldn't shake off the thought that he should sleep on the floor or something. He didn't deserve to be given this kind of thing, to be surrounded by all this. It was a feeling of guilt and inadequacy, that he wasn't good enough.

Slowly, Satoru's violin fills the house with a sweet, muffled song. Suguru sits on his bed, leaning his head back against the headboard. His eyes close, and his expression falls into one of complete relaxation.

A small smile plays at the corners of his lips, and he hums along with the tune, lost in the rhythm. The sweet song washes away the thoughts plaguing his mind, helping him to find a sense of peace.

He was so tired. Maybe he could fall asleep after all.

chapter1, chapter2, chapter3, chapter4 (coming soon)

taglist: @keira80808

#satosugu x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #jjk satoru #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #getou suguru x you #geto suguru #suguru #satosugu #stsg #stsg x reader #satoru x suguru #polyamory #poly satosugu #ao3 fanfic #multple chapter series

[chaewonshoney]

—SWEET (S)TALKER –s.jy

₊˚⊹ pairing: idol!bf!jake x gn!reader ⭒ warnings: swearing, mentions of stalking, petnames. word count: 604. LIB! ｡⋆˚ genre: fluff, drabble, est. relationship. songs to listen while reading: Bam Yang Gang by BIBI ⤷ ˖ ֗𖦹 a/n: none!

After the whole day at college, you are currently walking to your apartment. the streets are quiet and the rain seems to have stopped, as the last drops slowly drip from the trees, the roads are slippery, faded moonlight illuminated the path up ahead. The stars seemed to have been dimmed by the grey clouds ahead and all was silent... save for the sound the grasshoppers chirring and soft footsteps on the wet sidewalks. Your heart was far from caring if someone was  following you from behind. Feeling the melancholy creeping your chest, you took a long breath. Jake a.k.a the love of your life has certainly been very busy with his schedule to see you or spend some time with you. But he didn't forget to send you the good mornings and good night to his prettiest girl so far, yet you were... Well you felt greedy at this point, but you had the right anyway.

Listening to the argument between your two selves, you suddenly felt a vague presence of something, more like someone behind you... Being afraid enough to look behind, you focus on the shadow of that "someone" on the sidewalk, his reflection seemed more like oddly familiar and comforting now. Shutting your eyes close, you take some deep breaths to turn to face the presence...

Shit? Why is this guy running towards you? Without having any time to think properly, you start running towards the front direction too, are you scared? Kind of. But are you having fun? Yes.

After running in the literal street like two cat and mouse, you stop to catch on your breath, the stalker— well, shit, you can't name him anything else right? Your grip tightens on your knees as you exhale some more, and the guy is already close to approaching you—

"JAKE YOU DIRTY MOTHERFUCKER!!!" You yell at the guy, well, your boyfriend who wasn't really supposed to be the stalker, no? "Whoa whoa whoa, princess! Calm down? It's just me? Remember? The pretty boyfriend of yours?" He holds his arms up in surrender as you smack his shoulder softly enough but he was dramatic anyway, "Shut the fuck up, will ya?" You roll your eyes at the sight of him dramatically putting his hand on his chest as if he was hurt, "Shit, Princess! That hurts~ Do you know where that hurts?" Giving you the puppy eyes, he reaches for your tiny hands to his chest, "Literally here. Straight in the heart," But to his misfortune, he only gets the stink eyes back from his way-too-soft girlfriend, "Don't even try that," "try what, love?" You roll your eyes to hide the shy, bright shade of scarlet rising on your cheeks, "Try sweet talking with me, definitely not when you were some sort of stalking me as well. And to let you know, I am thinking of banning the L-word for you," "Oh my, holy shit, Y/N, don't even think of it! I don't want to know how it feels to be a monastic. And I wasn't stalking you, my love, it's not my fault if my gee eff is a half-blind Dora the Explorer, right?" He brings you closer to him while yapping— well, saying all these to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he talks, "I am NAWT half-blind Dora the Explorer, Sim Jaeyun!!!" "Not the government name, Princess. How "the love of my life" sounds?" "I am not falling for your sweet talking today." He wiggles his eyebrows with the knowing playful expression, "Wanna bet?"

Oh, this wasn't supposed to be it.

©chaewonshoney 2024, all rights reserved. Reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated <3

#jake enhypen #jake x y/n #jake sim #sim jaeyun #sim jaeyun x reader #jake x reader #enhypen soft hours #enhypen #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #jake fluff

[coffe-and-tea-time]

KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP! KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP!!!

HEHEHEHEHEHE I WAS WAITING TO COOK THIS

Coffee insanely speaking! Thanks Dear, you gimme the perfect excuse to write a second part just in time although I expected the option of talking to him to come first. Not that I'm complaining lol

Post where this suggestion came from

↪︎ ☾ I love to see you ....................................... .......................................☆ I love to hear you↩︎

TW: yandere behavior, delusions, murder of self-preservation, stalking, obssesion, somewhat willing reader, kinda denying of bad decisions

Of course, the best option is to stay still, not because you are enjoying this no no, of course not...

Despite his soft voice that sounds rather familiar, you can't really recall who or where. So the safest option is just giving in at the moment, you didn't know how he could react so the safer the better, isn't it?

A smile starts creeping on your face against your will, seems like you are a rather bad actor when it's required, huh? 

“Oh, I'm really glad, you seem like you're finally having a good dream… will it be too greedy if I want to be inside that little dream of yours? Well, if you find that greedy, you won't be able to handle me later”

Hearing a close mouthed giggle following the whisper makes your heart flutter softly, like this is some kind of really romantic scene in his mind. You were able to hear the faint sound of footsteps, he seems like he's doing a little room tour, making it a little hard to hear him.

“Oh Dear, you were researching that thing again?”

It seems like he found his way into your phone, what was he referring to?

“Why do you keep reading so much about romance? Are these words good enough to keep your focus?... Maybe I have to start practicing oral expression? It's been a while since I felt like that, last time was when you downloaded that stupid dating sim… This is truly irritating, the names they use, the way they ‘communicate’ to you; do no justice, I can express myself way better, my love, and how my eyes change when I see you walking by… just... please, I need only one chance, and I promise you won't have a room left for doubts”

Even though he made the effort to lower his voice in order to 'not wake you up', it's clear how his tone is changing with every word depending on the topic; First, a low hint of infatuation, then, what sounds closer to a plead and, finally,...was that...hopelessness?

Honestly, in a normal situation, you would be annoyed by someone searching through your phone but only an idiot would think this man would judge you even if you had pictures of dead people there, more like he's genuinely looking for more of you, despite the fact that it's really not the ‘proper’ way, you can't say it didn't work.

“My beloved Cherry, what can i do for you to talk to me? Those characters seem to steal your attention quickly… I would be lying if I sad I'm not a little hopeful because of them though, you seem to have quite the specific taste, Cherry, and I believe I fit perfectly on them... if only I could find the right moment to get into your routine, to be part of your life…”

Weird that he worries about getting to talk to you with an ideal scene but not worrying about stalking you, but maybe it's kind of understable? Since well, everyone likes to check on their crush on social media even if they take a while to actually talk, even if this guy took it a little too far, he sounds... harmless like his wish is just to win your affection…

wait a second…

Are you truly relaxed in this kind of situation? What is going on with you? Why? Why… well, can't say you didn't ask for this, even as a joke, you know this time is different because it's real, but… why does reality feel like a fantasy right now? Is it because of him?

“Huh, I come here as a routine by now, I still get the same queries, I’m dying to find the answers soon..”

Sensing that lightly sweet fragrance once more makes you know he’s approaching your ‘sleeping’ form once again, making it easy to hear him despite his constant whispering.

“Would you let me cuddle you? Would you let me kiss you? Would you mind if I were clingy? Would you mind if I get jealous? Would you mind if it seems like I already know more about you than I should? I want to hold you my dear, I can’t wait for the day I can just snuggle with you every time we want… I really can’t wait anymore, I need to be closer to you… I guess I have no option other than to talk to you out of the blue, I dislike to be so imprudent, but I promise I will make up for it once you accept me in your life, Love”

You feel a gentle hand slightly caress your cheek as a little peck is placed on your forehead, making you almost smile like a fool if it weren’t for the fact that pretending to sleep is your priority in this sweet moment, unexpected but called for moment.

“Sweet dreams Cherry, I have to prepare what I should say tomorrow, I will put all of my efforts to be my best self to make a good first impression, I hope I snatch enough of your interest to be on your mind even for a moment”

Oh, he is definitely gonna be stuck in your mind for a while, as you try your best to focus on the sounds, you catch his steps as he seems to walk away… but you keep up with your act just in case.

So, tomorrow, huh? Seems like once again you have important decisions in your hand, should you indulge in your fantasy and let him get near you? It also sounds fun to go to him first… But, maybe you should try to avoid him? It’s the safer choice, but do you really want that? He seems safe enough not to raise any of your flags, he seemed so caring for you…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

#pineapple our oc #Coffee speaking #yandere #random #yandere male #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere oc #oc #male yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #obsessive love #yandere classmate #otome #yandere x willing reader #stalker #tw stalking #soft yandere #yandere writing #drabble #silly #silly writing #delulu #delusional #anon ask

[xbabyd0lli3x]

Hi, I have a request for a Spencer Reid fluff. After JJ confesses to him, his partner (preferably they/then) who works at the BAU finds out and is worried he will leave them due to believing they talk too much from friends outside of work telling them they are. If possible, could reader also have ADHD, it's ok if not. You can change anything you don't like or feel comfortable writing.

hi, this has been rotting in my inbox,srry but here

Spencer Reid sat at his desk in the BAU, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts as he went over case files. He felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see JJ standing there, a nervous look on her face.

"Spencer, can we talk?" she asked softly.

"Of course, JJ," Spencer replied, his brow furrowing with concern. He followed her to a quieter corner of the bullpen, where she took a deep breath before speaking.

"I need to tell you something," JJ began, her words hesitant. "I... I have feelings for you. More than just friendship."

Spencer's heart skipped a beat at her confession, his mind racing as he processed her words. He had harbored secret feelings for JJ for years, but he never imagined she felt the same way.

"JJ, I... I don't know what to say," Spencer stammered, his thoughts a jumble of emotions.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," JJ said quickly, her eyes downcast. "I just couldn't keep it to myself anymore."

Spencer reached out and gently lifted her chin, meeting her gaze with his own. "I do feel the same way, JJ," he admitted softly. "I've felt it for a long time."

A smile spread across JJ's face, relief evident in her eyes. "Really?" she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

"Really," Spencer confirmed, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders as he spoke the truth.

As they stood there, lost in the moment, Spencer's partner approached, a concerned look on their face. They had overheard the conversation and couldn't help but feel a pang of insecurity.

"Spencer... JJ..." they began hesitantly, drawing the attention of the couple.

"Hey," Spencer said warmly, reaching out to them. "Come join us."

His partner hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, their expression a mix of apprehension and vulnerability.

"I couldn't help but overhear..." they started, their words trailing off uncertainly.

Spencer squeezed their hand reassuringly. "It's okay. JJ just told me how she feels."

His partner's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh... I see."

Spencer could sense their unease and immediately wanted to alleviate their worries.

"Hey, listen," he said earnestly, looking into their eyes. "I know you have ADHD, right? Sometimes my mind is all over the place, but that doesn't mean I can't focus on what's important. And what's important to me is you."

His partner's tense shoulders relaxed slightly at his words, a small smile tugging at the corners of their lips.

"I know," they replied softly. "It's just... hearing all those comments from our friends about how much I talk, I couldn't help but wonder..."

Spencer gently cupped their face in his hands, his gaze unwavering. "You're not just 'someone' to me," he said earnestly. "You're my partner, my confidant, my rock. And I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world."

Tears welled up in his partner's eyes as they leaned into his touch, feeling a rush of love and reassurance wash over them.

"Thank you, Spencer," they whispered, their voice filled with emotion.

Spencer smiled tenderly, pulling them into a warm embrace. In that moment, surrounded by the bustling activity of the BAU, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they would always have each other.

#strawberrytalks .⋆🪼⋆. ⭒ #spencer reid x reader

[ivantillz]

find me;

ivantill, 4.1k, inspired by this post by @ivanttakethis Ivan returns - alive - after round 6 despite all odds but something is different about him. Wrong. Till is on his own to figure out what happened and how to fix it.

Till didn’t know how to describe what he was feeling – that wasn’t quite true; he had an idea. He was numb. He thought he’d been numb, before, but after watching Ivan die… now he knew what true numbness felt like.

He might not have expressed it enough, looking back. Just how much he appreciated having Ivan around. Maybe, he hadn’t even known yet how terribly empty this place would feel without him.

And now he would never get to tell him. He would never even get to talk to him again.

It was over, and frankly Till was too tired to keep fighting. It didn’t matter. His next opponent was Luka and he wasn’t naive enough to think he could win.

Strangely, he felt an odd sense of calm alongside the numbness. He was ready to go. He was ready to see if the aliens were truthful about this one thing, at least. Was there much of anything after death or just eternal darkness?

Nothingness?

Maybe that really would be better. To feel nothing. Be nothing.

Till heard a familiar bell; it was dinnertime. He curled up tighter, hugging his knees and closed his eyes. He wasn’t hungry.

-

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep when he was finally jostled awake. He blinked, once, twice, eyes having a hard time adjusting to the brightness of day.

When he lifted his head, he was met with the face of a girl about his age, dark hair and dark eyes. Unassuming. He was pretty sure he’d seen her around once or twice. They’d never talked.

“I thought you might, um.” She was wringing her hands nervously. Till shouldn’t care. He had given up caring about anything, especially whatever she was struggling to tell him.

He sniffed. “If you have nothing to say, please go away.” He just wanted to go back to sleep. Sleeping was the only time he didn’t feel completely hopeless. At least in his dreams, he wasn’t alone.

“I know we haven’t talked much or anything,” she continued, speaking just a little too fast, “but I thought you might want to see this. You, um. You were close to him, right?”

She didn’t say his name. She didn’t need to.

Till didn’t even bother answering. He just blankly stared at her. Apparently, that was answer enough.

“You really need come see this,” she said again, this time with more urgency.

Till frowned. He should just ignore her. He didn’t want to entertain whatever game she was playing.

“I’m serious,” she was fidgeting again. “Please.”

He could’ve ignored her, but he didn’t. Even now, he supposed his curiosity had a way of getting the better of him. Standing up, he winced when his back cracked and his knees popped.

She smartly didn’t say anything and just led the way. Till followed slowly. It was only when she stopped abruptly that he finally looked up, barely avoiding running into her.

“Hey,” he barked. “Watch it!”

She stepped to the side, opening her mouth, probably to retort, but he couldn’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears.

There, in the middle of a small crowd, was Ivan.

He didn’t even know what to focus on first – his hair, brushed back with a small clip on the side to keep it out of his face. His clothes, pure white and pristine. The smile on his face, warm and sweet.

But none of that mattered, really. Nothing mattered but the fact Ivan was here.

Ivan was alive.

Till didn’t even wait to see if the girl had anything else to say; he rushed past her and joined the crowd, pushing people out of the way. Some of them glared at him, some yelled, but he didn’t care.

He needed to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He needed to know Ivan was real.

When he finally reached the center of the crowd, he let out a shaky breath and just stared. Ivan was really there, standing right in front of him with a confused tilt of his head and an unnervingly polite smile.

Then Ivan opened his mouth and asked possibly the dumbest question he could:

“Are you okay?”

Till felt anger rush to the forefront of his many conflicting emotions, red hot and burning. “Am I okay?” he repeated in disbelief, and suddenly grabbed the collar of Ivan’s shirt. Ivan blinked, but didn’t move to stop him. “You seriously think you can do all that and then just ask me if I’m okay?”

Ivan stared back at him with a familiar blankness before suddenly he was smiling, soft and kind, “I’m sorry,” he said, and Till couldn’t remember ever hearing him apologize, before. “I don’t know what I did but I assure you I didn’t meant to upset you.”

He reached up and gently touched Till’s hands, still clutching his collar.

“If you would let go, maybe we can go somewhere private and talk.”

Till blinked, once, twice, before suddenly letting go like he’d been burned, his hands curling into fists at his sides “You don’t know what you did?” he repeated, slowly, icily. “Is this some kind of sick joke to you?”

His heart was thumping in his chest too fast, too hard. He felt like he was struggling to breathe.

“I really don’t,” Ivan replied softly. It was unnerving, hearing him talk like that. “But I’m assuming I did something to hurt you, and if I did, I really am sorry.”

Till bristled, fists tightening. He could feel something wet in both palms of his hands; blood, maybe, from where his nails were digging too deep.

“You really don’t remember?” he asked, terrified of the answer.

Ivan smiled again; it was too sweet. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Okay.” Till swallowed, forced his hands to relax at his sides. “Okay.”

Without waiting for any kind of response, he turned and ran.

-

For a while, he isolated himself and just tried to figure out what had happened. Maybe some kind of head trauma? That would’ve explained the memory loss, maybe, but Ivan was acting like a completely different person.

Before he had seen Ivan again - before he had gotten confirmation he was still alive - he had gone over all the things he wanted to say to him, good and bad.

Now he couldn’t bring himself to say any of it. He avoided even crossing paths with Ivan for the first few days but then he realized something:

Ivan was avoiding him too. Not on purpose, it seemed, but somehow that realization was even more terrifying.

He used to do anything to get his attention - steal his things just to return them, start trivial fights, ask him to teach him about music (he never paid attention). Now he barely looked in his direction most days, too distracted with the handful of other contestants who were seemingly glued to his side.

Before, he hadn’t had any friends. Not for a lacking of trying - many people wanted to be friends with Ivan - but he had never even bothered trying to act interested.

Eventually they had stopped trying, of course, but now that had changed. It was like people could smell he was different, and they were right.

To make matters even worse, Till had overheard a few of Ivan’s conversations with some of the contestants. He wasn’t sure if Ivan meant it but when they would flirt, fluttering their eyelashes, pouting a little, Ivan would seem interested, smiling coyly.

That was possibly the most obvious sign something was very, very wrong.

Ivan didn’t do friends - not beyond what championship he had been able to forge with Till and Mizi, possibly Sua (before) - but he certainly hadn’t flirted with others.

He hadn’t even flirted with Till prior to their round, despite seemingly having some kind of feelings for him. Or maybe he had, but in unconventional ways. He certainly hadn’t been obvious about it.

(He wanted to talk to him - the real Ivan - understand what he really felt, but now he couldn’t. The Ivan of now apparently felt nothing for him.)

Could a head trauma do that? Till wasn’t educated in that kind of stuff; some of the others were, the way he was interested in music, but even they hadn’t had many chances to explore it with their limited resources. So when he asked, they simply apologized and said, honestly, “I don’t know. Maybe?”

He was grateful for the honesty but it had brought him no closer to figuring out what was going on, or how to reverse it (if that was even possible. He really hoped it was possible.)

-

Till finally reached a breaking point after Ivan won round 7.

(Since nobody had expected him to survive, and it was unprecedented, they had decided to add two new contestants to the lineup; one to go up against Till and one to go up against Ivan, extending the season to 9 rounds overall. The finale would make history as - for the first time - three contestants would go up against each other at once. Till really didn’t care about dissecting what that meant for them, in the future.)

Obviously he was glad he had won - he had been watching the broadcast with bated breath - but he had won by singing a new piece. Till felt an odd sense of comfort, hearing his voice again (maybe the only thing that hadn’t changed) but then he had started to pay closer attention to the lyrics.

And it was wrong. All wrong. Since when did Ivan sing of birds flying through clear blue skies, free and fearless? Of requited love, sweet and true?

It might’ve been his voice, but those weren’t his words. Something was wrong. Ivan was here, but he wasn’t.

Then finally Till made a realization. It was a working theory, of course, but at least it was a start.

-

It started with Till watching Ivan even closer (something he didn’t think was possible). He started to slowly notice other details that were wrong.

Just little things. Things that might not have been noticeable to other people. Like the way Ivan’s laugh was a little off (slightly too high-pitched compared to before). The way his eyes were brighter, now, but somehow lacking life at the same time.

Till realized he reminded him of a doll. Too happy. Too polite. Even Mizi - sweet as she was - hadn’t been nearly as perfect. It was unnerving.

Once - still testing his theory - Till had even spilled his soup on him during dinnertime. Just to see. Ivan had barely spared him a glance, a polite smile. “Don’t worry,” he had said before disappearing to change.

He returned with another white shirt. Laughed with everyone else at a joke that was objectively not funny.

That was when Till was certain he was on the right track. They had done something to him. It wasn’t surprising, in a way. They had experimented on Till many times before, after all, but this was different. This was Ivan; the pride and joy of the season.

It was risky to mess with him, but he supposed if it was that or his death, the aliens had weighed their options and decided this was the better outcome.

And truthfully, it had worked out for them. Ivan had gotten even more support than ever after his latest round; brands were lining up to work with him, he had a new interview being published almost every week.

But Till wouldn’t be so easily satisfied. Even if this Ivan was easier to deal with. Even if he smiled more. Till missed tussling and rolling around in the grass with him. He even missed the times Ivan would steal his things just to return them a few days later.

He missed Ivan, his friend, and possibly something more, one day. He still wasn’t sure; wouldn’t be until they could actually talk about what had happened on that stage. But either way, he would find a way to snap him out of this.

-

Easier said than done. Now it was hard to even get a moment alone with Ivan, seeing as he was always surrounded by people.

Finally Till did what he had to do (and he wasn’t exactly proud of it): he pretended to be hurt, and Ivan - this new version of him, at least - couldn’t resist the bait. He helped him to his room and stood there, seemingly unsure of what to do next. Till pretended to massage his ankle.

“Thank you,” he said, and a part of him meant it.

Whether or not this was the Ivan he knew, he still didn’t like him looking so lost. It was jarring, compared to the easy confidence he usually carried himself with. Before and after. The confidence had always been the one consistent thing across both versions of him, although it had certainly manifested in different ways.

Ivan smiled then, looking more sure of himself. That smile - bright and full as it was - still didn’t manage to quite reach his eyes. Till knew this was it. He had to take this chance and find out a way to reverse whatever they had done to him, if that was possible.

(It had to be; he didn’t know what he would do if it wasn’t.)

For now he just had to keep him here with him, separated from all the others.

“Can you sit with me for a second?” he asked, and Ivan didn’t even hesitate before joining him on the bed that felt more like a concrete slab with a blanket over it.

He even sat politely, hands together in his lap, back a perfectly straight line. He was still smiling. “Did you need anything else?”

Till hesitated for a moment, mentally scrambling for an excuse to keep him here longer. “My ankle really hurts,” he blurted, “even worse than before.” He paused, biting his lip, still thinking. Then he thought of it, the perfect excuse. “Could you maybe look at it?”

“I’m not sure I’d be able to tell you anything,” he replied despite already moving to the floor. Till watched, heart pounding in his chest, as Ivan gently touched his ankle, lifting his foot a little.

He should’ve prepared a bit more, maybe, because his ankle was perfectly fine. No bruising, no cuts. Still he winced, frowning. “It’s sore,” he said, pointing to a random spot. “Around here.”

Ivan nodded, softly running his fingers over the spot with pursed lips.

Till knew he should’ve been thinking more, formulating a plan. He couldn’t just keep Ivan here forever looking at his ankle, and he was no closer to finding out what the aliens had done (or how to reverse it.)

Until he saw it:

A ring, perfectly discreet, around Ivan’s finger. It wasn’t quite silver but an odd hue that nearly blended into the color of Ivan’s skin. Like he - or someone - hadn’t wanted others to notice it.

Till felt his heart beating a little faster. There was no way, right? Surely it couldn’t have been that easy. All these weeks - all this pain - had been caused by a ring?

“Your finger,” he said, voice thick. He hoped Ivan wouldn’t notice; he didn’t, seemingly, still focused on Till’s ankle. “Where did you get that ring?”

Now Ivan looked up. For a long moment he just stared before finally he blinked, once, glancing down at the ring around his finger. “It was a gift.”

Till nodded slowly. “From who?”

“I - ” Ivan stopped, eyebrows furrowing as he idly spun the ring around his finger. “I don’t quite remember, it seems.”

Till knew this was it. He was onto something. He slid off the bed to join Ivan on the floor; Ivan gasped, just a quick breath, gesturing at his ankle with eyes full of concern. Till didn’t know if it was real - his concern. He didn’t know what was real anymore but in this moment he liked to believe it was, as unfounded as it was.

“I’m okay,” he assured him. “I just, can I - ” How did he ask for this, he wasn’t really sure. Finally he gave up and just grabbed Ivan’s hand.

Ivan let him, even as his eyebrows furrowed again, watching as Till gently turned his hand in a few different directions. It was a simple ring, no stone or decorations. It was loose enough for Ivan to spin it around his finger with ease, but too tight to fall off by any accident.

“Do you mind…?” he asked as his fingertips brushed the ring. Surely it wouldn’t be so easy, but it was still worth a try.

Ivan blinked; there was something lost in his gaze, almost like he wasn’t quite seeing. Then suddenly he was pushing Till back with enough force he yelped as his back hit the edge of his bed.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, icily, as he stood and turned toward the door.

It was all wrong. The Ivan that had been, here, for the last few weeks would’ve never reacted like that. So aggressive and cold. That was when Till knew there was no other option: that ring had to go. Whatever was going on, it was clear the aliens had put in some kind of safety measure to keep Ivan from letting anyone take it off.

Whether or not it would magically fix everything was unimportant. It was a start, at least. Till scrambled back to his feet and grabbed Ivan by the arm, yanking as hard as he could. Ivan stumbled, for just a second, but it was enough for Till to get the upper hand he needed.

He spun them around and pushed Ivan onto his bed; he fell with a huff. Before he could fully recover, Till was on top of him, pinning his arms down by his sides. Ivan had always been stronger than him but thankfully with the element of surprise and whatever adrenaline was coursing through his veins it seemed he had managed to subdue him.

“What are you doing?” Ivan asked; his voice no longer had that icy coolness to it, but he was obviously still not happy.

Till squeezed his wrists, hard. “I know you don’t remember me or - or what happened,” flashes of that night on the stage, painful and sharp, played through his mind, “but I know you cared about me and I don’t know if you knew at the time how much I cared about you too.”

Ivan just stared up at him, unblinking. Till took a shaky breath.

“I wish I had let you known, before that night.” His eyes burned but he forced the urge to cry back, swallowing thickly. He needed to focus right now. “Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t have done what you did. Maybe we could’ve found another way. You had always been the smartest out of any of us. If anyone could’ve done it, it was you.”

Ivan finally blinked, his mouth pressing together into a thin line. Till couldn’t spend too long wondering if any of this was getting through to him. He just had to keep talking.

“Instead you felt like the only way to save me was through sacrificing yourself, and - ” It was too late; his eyes watered, blurring his vision just a little. “I was so mad at you, at first. I was so angry I was sick. You - ” Till paused, shaking his head, hard. “You had no right to do that. To decide for me what I needed.”

He paused, took another shaky breath. Ivan still didn’t say anything.

“I missed you so much, Ivan,” his voice wavered with each word. “I thought I was never going to see you again and I was so numb. I realized I cared about you, more than I ever realized and - and you weren’t even here for me when I needed you the most.” He sniffed, squeezing his wrists even tighter. “You selfish asshole.”

Finally Ivan opened his mouth to say something. His eyes looked shiny, glistening. Till didn’t even bother waiting to see what he had to say; he surged down and slammed their lips together so hard their teeth clanked together, sending a jolt of pain through his jaw.

Ivan made a small noise in the back of his throat. Surprise, maybe. Till used the moment to let go of his wrist and feel for the ring; as soon as he found it, he yanked it off without hesitation and threw it across the room. He heard the distant clattering and then Ivan was kissing him back with fervor, taking his face in his hands.

Till felt something warm in his chest - hope - as he shifted, deepening the kiss. He was almost afraid to stop, afraid that he’d been wrong and nothing would be changed. Afraid he was kissing a stranger, not the Ivan he knew and desperately needed back.

But finally he had no choice; he pulled back and stared down at Ivan, eyes half-lidded, mouth wet and swollen from the aggressive kissing.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please say something.”

Ivan blinked, some clarity seeming to return to his eyes. His tongue poked out, licking at the corner of his mouth where there was just the smallest spot of blood, probably Till’s fault.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and for a moment Till felt the world stop. He had failed. But then Ivan’s hands were at his sides, holding on gently. “I never even considered how you would feel.”

Till sniffed, waited. Didn’t want to get his hopes up too much.

“I can’t even lie and say I thought you wouldn’t care.” Ivan smiled, a small thing. It was nothing like the fake smiles he’d been giving for weeks now. “Because you’re you, and you care more than you let on.”

He didn’t even realize he was shaking until Ivan smoothed a hand down his back, trying to calm him.

“But one of us had to die up there, didn’t they?” Ivan’s hand stopped, low on his back. He let out a soft sigh. “And it couldn’t be you. I couldn’t let that happen.”

Till swallowed around the lump in his throat, almost too big to breathe. “You kissed me,” he said. It wasn’t an accusation, just a quiet acknowledgment. “You asshole, you kissed me and then left me here to try and pick up all the pieces by myself.”

He wasn’t really angry.

“And you just kissed me,” Ivan said, slowly. “Good way to distract me, hm?”

Till couldn’t do this. He couldn’t let things go unsaid between them, not after everything. What if something happened again? What if this was his only chance?

“I did use it as a distraction,” he admitted, but then, “I’d been thinking about it for a while.”

Ivan’s hand twitched against his back. “You had this plan for that long?”

“No,” Till answered truthfully before leaning down a little; their noses were only a couple inches from touching. “You should’ve told me, Ivan. Given me a chance to decide what I really wanted.”

Ivan stared back at him, unwavering. “You wouldn’t have chosen me,” he said with a confidence that sent a pang through Till’s chest, and maybe he would’ve been right, once upon a time, but things were so different now.

They could never go back and change the past, as much as Till wanted to, but the least he could do was be honest with himself moving forward.

“Maybe not back then,” he admitted, because he wasn’t fond of lying and it felt important to be honest here. “But I’m not the person I was back then, am I?”

Ivan gazed up at him with an intensity that made him shiver. “No,” he agreed. “I suppose you aren’t. Because you never would’ve gone through this much trouble for me, before.”

“I always cared about you, Ivan,” he replied, softening his voice, needing him to hear it. “I think I just didn’t know how much.”

Ivan opened his mouth, closed it. Till didn’t know what he was going to say, but that was okay. He wouldn’t push it. They had a lot to figure out over the next few hours - like how they were going to hide Ivan breaking through whatever the aliens had done to him, or if they even could hide it because Till didn’t want to risk putting the ring back on, or even where they stood as friends or more - but for now none of that mattered.

Ivan was back, he was here with him, gazing up at him like he used to, when he used to think Till was never looking (and he wasn’t, most of the time, but not all the time.) And Till knew he would do anything to ensure he never left him again.

#alnst #ivantill #alien stage #ivantill fic #alnst till #alnst ivan #mywriting #thank u op for giving me permission to use this idea #bc this is my fav ivantill fic i've written yet

[johannestevans]

request: some labru?

Doing short requests (<1000w)! Also on Ao3.

Feel free to drop requests in the replies or into my askbox. If you’d like a leave a tip for your own request or someone else’s, my tip jar is here.

“Are you okay?” Laios asks, and Kabru looks down at him, keeping his thighs spread wider apart as he looks down at the other man, takes him in, commits him to memory. Laios is different like this than usual, his lips parted, his eyes wider than usual, his pupils dilated, sweat on his skin.

“Yeah,” Kabru says, and a part of him is frustrated with it, the fact that Laios is watching him back, the fact that Laios is looking at him eagerly, questioningly, when Kabru is trying to study him, trying to think about him.

“Do you you, um, still want to…?”

“Shut up,” Kabru orders him, and Laios groans as Kabru pushes himself up on his knees and grinds the tip of his prick against the bulge of Laios’ cock in his underwear, feels it hot underneath him. “Yeah,” he says. “I want you to— to use me.”

“Use you?” Laios repeats, and he tilts his head slightly as he looks up at Kabru’s face, questioning. “I don’t…”

“I want you to fuck me,” Kabru says firmly, resting his hands on the naked flesh of Laios’ pecs – they’ve not died in the dungeon in a while, and he’s put on a little weight, has more flesh to his chest and belly than he had. Kabru’s gained back a little of the weight he’d had before, too, is no longer just muscle over bone. “I want you to… to use me, you know. Like a— Laios.”

“Kabru,” says Laios seriously, and fuck, but he’s so eager sometimes, so agonisingly earnest as he meets Kabru’s gaze, as he does as Kabru says.

“Do you touch yourself?”

“Of course,” Laios says immediately, and Kabru looks down at him flatly, his lips pressed together.

“Your dick, Laios,” Kabru says. “Do you touch it? Get yourself off?”

“Oh,” says Laios, and his cheeks tinge slightly pink. “Um. Y— Are you going to ask me what to?”

Kabru narrows his eyes, taking that in for a second, and he wants to ask, wants to interrogate that as deeply as he can, but he just makes a mental note to come back to it later.

“I want you to use me, like you’re trying to get yourself off,” says Kabru experimentally, studying Laios’ face as he says it, looking for eagerness in his expression, but what he sees is a guardedness, an uncertainty, as Laios bites one of his lips. “Touch me to satisfy yourself,” he says, because he wants to know. Wants to know how Laios will touch him this first time, without Kabru’s hands guiding him, without Kabru telling him what to do, without him thinking about what Kabru wants. “Fuck me. Use me.”

“I don’t…” Laios starts to protest, and Kabru settles one hand flat on his chest, leaning in closer, brushing their lips together. Laios likes kissing, Kabru’s already discovered, and he eagerly leans up for more until Kabru holds him fast, doesn’t let Laios kiss him more. “Kabru—”

“Fuck me,” Kabru orders him, as crisply as he can. “I want you to. I want you to focus on your own pleasure.”

“I don’t do that,” Laios says uncertainly.

“I want you to,” Kabru murmurs, his voice as soft and solicitous as he can make it, and Laios sits up and pushes Kabru back. They’d stripped naked already, Laios so that Kabru could look at him, focus on him, and Laios had undressed Kabru whilst he’d been distracted, eased off his armour. “Laios—”

Kabru lets out a noise of surprise as Laios wrestles him over his lap and shoves Kabru’s thighs apart, and then dives in mouth first – and really, why should Kabru be surprised? Kabru lets out a sharp whine as Laios closes the top of his mouth around his cock at the same time as his tongue shoves into Kabru’s wet cunt, swipes around the open centre of it before he dips lower and tongues at Kabru’s ass instead. Kabru’s thighs are spread wide over Laios’ shoulders, Laios gripping at his knees.

“Which hole?” Laios asks, and Kabru opens his mouth, closes it.

“I’m not supposed to be the one choosing,” Kabru says, and Laios hums, then returns to tonguing at him, and Kabru can’t help the moan that escapes him as he considers this, Laios’ natural instinct of course being to dive in tongue first, to taste, to eat him out, as much as his instinct with anything he likes, loves, anything he’s fascinated with, anything he studies, is to consume it, devour it.

Kabru’s cock is twitching at the thought of it, his back arching as he spreads back over Laios’ chest, feeling the plumpness of his healthier belly underneath him, the heat of his body.

Laios sucks Kabru’s cock into his mouth, and Kabru groans, digging his fingers into Laios’ thighs to try to steady himself as Laios keeps on sucking at him, goes between tonguing at him, suckling at the side of his lips before he pulls back and stands to his feet. Kabru lets out a noise at the indignity of it as Laios keeps his arm banded around Kabru’s belly and holds him the right way up, not upside down this time, and shoves down his underwear.

As they fall down to Laios’ ankles, Kabru stares down between his own legs and now between Laios’ too, feels the heat of Laios’ long, fat cock standing up straight, prodding against Kabru’s own little prick. Kabru’s cunt is open and slick, all but dripping down against Laios’ cock, and he whimpers as Laios readies his cock and holds Kabru up straight, prodding his slick cockhead not up against Kabru’s pussy, open and wet, but up against the tighter furl of his arse.

“Laios,” he says in a warning tone. “Laios, don’t you fucking dare—”

“You told me I was supposed to choose,” Laios says in that blunt and simple tone he uses sometimes and then drops Kabru down, and Kabru howls as Laios’ cock sinks into his cunt after all, sinks in all at once and spreads him roughly wide, his thighs quivering, his whole body writhing and struggling helplessly in Laios’ grip as Laios lowers him down and fucks him as deeply as he can.

He’s breathing heavily as Laios says seriously, “I’m going to fuck you now,” with his hands going to Kabru’s hips, and Kabru is gloriously helpless as Laios begins to fuck him mercilessly from behind.

#musings #laios touden #labru #kabru of utaya #dungeon meshi #fanfic

[elffees]

How Fragile Allyship is Portrayed in Frontiers of Pandora

So I really love this audio log from Priya and needed to talk about it. This entire post will be based on this log.

Transcript:

"I ... it's Priya. Obviously. I don't know what day it is. Nothing makes sense... Alma's dead. Alma. Is. Dead.

Oh wow. That's weird. But you know what the really weird, screwy part is? There's this whole other Alma just walking around. Except she's not blue and she's got tiny eyes. Do we all have such tiny eyes? I just ... I feel like good Alma was killed. And we're left with this other one who everyone hates. But really it's the same person. Or is it?

I don't know what to think. I'm not really the one for existential crises, but this is a real brain-breaker. And I'm ... I'm sad. My friend died. No. No. She was murdered. I know she did some bad things, but Nor had no right. I'm glad he's gone. Maybe he's glad too. He never liked it here. Never liked us. Humans.

But we're trying to help. Alma was trying to help. She was protecting them. She tried. Right? Mercer's the bad one. That's all I know for sure. And that other Alma... she wants to hang out, just like old times. But... she's not my friend. Not— I think I hear someone. Signing off."

This audio log can be found in the Resistance Hideout.

I really like this log because it encapsulates the different ways allies & marginalized peoples view and are affected by certain situations.

Disclaimer before I start: I am not saying Priya is a bad person, nor am I saying allies are bad people.

For starters, I can understand why Priya, and likely other Resistance members, have mixed feelings towards Alma. It's a very complex situation. So Priya regarding it as "weird" and being at a complete loss makes sense.

What I want to focus on in this post are the last 3 paragraphs. Where she expresses confusion and hurt because "Good Alma was murdered".

I think this right here is a very well written distinction on how allies and the marginalized communities they assist experience situations differently.

Alma's Reveal

Everyone had their worlds turned upside down when Alma confessed the full extent of her actions in TAP. Alma admits that her avatar was a tool for manipulation. Although she may care for the Sarentu children now, for the majority of their relationship, from the genocide, to TAP, to being frozen and left behind, Alma's avatar was a tool to manipulate and coerce Na'vi into viewing her (and by extension TAP, then later the Resistance) as "one of them". As someone to trust and relate to. The purpose of her having an avatar was to act as a golden ticket into Na'vi society.

Alma was not "murdered". There is no "good" or even "bad" Alma. There is only Alma.

The human who played a role in the massacre of a clan, then manipulated its survivors for years, then left them behind to remain in stasis for nearly 2 more decades.

Who is also the human who founded the Western Resistance and tried to band together several Na'vi clans to protect Pandora, who encouraged the Sarentu to reclaim their culture and customs the ones that didn't expose her ofc, and who helped rid Pandora of cackling narcissist John Mercer.

There is only ONE Alma that has done all of these things.

Alma was not "murdered". Her tool of manipulation was destroyed. The object, the mask, the weapon that gave Alma her power and confidence and that helped her fool not only the Sarentu, not only the Resistance, but also herself into thinking she was something she was not, was taken from her.

Alma was not murdered. She was thrust back into reality.

And so, Priya's last 3 paragraphs interest me. It's completely fine that she mourns the image of who she thought Alma was. In a way I think the Sarentu (sans Nor) do as well. Everyone thought Alma was just a good person who only wanted to help with no ulterior motives. It's painful to realize that was far from the case.

But then Priya goes on to hate Nor. She spits his name out like a curse. Glad he's gone because "he never liked them anyway". That he had no right to "murder" Alma because she only did a few "bad things".

There's a lot to unpack there.

Priya's Blaming of Nor & It's Ties to Fragile Allyship

I want to break down the lines one by one.

She was murdered. I know she did some bad things, but Nor had no right.

For starters, it is EXTREMELY COMMON for allies of marginalized communities to "insert their two cents" on a delicate topic. More often than not when there is inter-community issues, allies have a tendency to say the phrase: "I'm [insert demographic] so take what I'm saying with a grain of salt, BUT I think..." Any and all oppressed classes have heard this phrase from MILLIONS of allies before.

The FOP writers did remarkably well at capturing what allyship looks like when writing the Resistance. Because Priya, as a human formerly part of the oppressive group trying to wipe out the Na'vi and Pandoran wildlife, fully believes she can judge whether Nor had a right or not.

It's not her call.

She cannot determine whether Nor was justified or not because she, as someone part of the privileged class in the world of the game, has never suffered from the harm that Alma's avatar has caused.

She, and none of the Resistance members, were raised by Alma's avatar.

They were not lied to by Alma's avatar for YEARS about the true fate of their families and loved ones.

They were not encouraged to view Alma as a mother-figure or nurturing teacher or beloved caretaker, when she was actually just eager for fame and success.

They were not put into cryosleep and then left behind for 16 MORE YEARS with suspicions that this abandonment was an intentional coverup.

They did not suffer any of that.

They saw her as the leader of the Resistance and as a friend, which does cause an impactful betrayal of course, but Alma's avatar never tried to force them to see her as family. As someone to love.

While Priya only says all this in a private audio log and thankfully doesn't say it to any of the Sarentu or god forbid So'lek, these are her thoughts. The simple fact she believes she can judge Nor, that she has the capacity and authority to scold one of the main victims, is a reoccurring feature of privileged allies who struggle to realize that they cannot relate or ever fully understand how marginalized communities experience oppression.

Priya says Nor had "no right" to "murder" Alma. When truthfully, Priya has no right to judge how the Sarentu feel and respond.

I'm glad he's gone. Maybe he's glad too. He never liked it here. Never liked us. Humans.

After Priya attempts to place judgement on Nor's actions, she then dives deeper.

She is glad Nor is gone. Not ONLY because of what he did to Alma's avatar. No. She is also glad he's gone because Nor was not friendly.

Another prime instance of fragile allyship is that allies tend to believe that marginalized people are only worth their sympathy if they're likeable.

This has a lot ties to the "Perfect Victim" concept.

Because Nor was not friendly, because his trauma caused him to distrust humans and he did not quickly get over it and befriend Resistance members, he is undeserving of as much sympathy as the other Sarentu.

It's seen as a positive that he's gone (despite the fact he ran away in clear emotional distress.) Not just because of what he did to Alma's avatar, but because now Priya and the Resistance no longer have to assist someone that's "ungrateful" and "not as nice" as they should be.

The purpose of being an ally is to help oppressed classes survive against circumstances that would otherwise have them discriminated against or have them dead. Being a truly good ally should not hinder on whether the person is "likeable" or "grateful" for their services. But sadly, in the real world, that is one of the most common "conditions" a LOT of allies have when it comes to offering support. How much they like the person or groups they claim to want to help.

Allyship is more often than not based on likeability, rather than morality.

But we're trying to help. Alma was trying to help. She tried. Right?

Another feature of fragile allyship is the tendency to change sides.

Priya agrees that what Alma did was wrong. She understands that.

But because of the simple fact that Alma is human, Priya not only relates but tries to defend Alma's actions. Seeing herself in Alma is understandable because they are both human and were friends. The problem comes when Priya begins to project and defend Alma's actions.

It doesn't matter that by her own admission Alma's main goals were fame and achievement. It doesn't matter how much the Sarentu are hurt by her actions. It doesn't matter that Nor was outraged. It doesn't matter that even calm and collected Ri'nela was disgusted. It doesn't matter HOW the Sarentu, as the direct victims, feel about Alma's actions. It doesn't matter that intent ≠ impact.

Alma is human like Priya, so from Priya's POV, Alma's 'intentions' hold more value than how the Sarentu were impacted. "We're" trying to help. Alma was trying to help. So her actions can't have been that bad. Right?

Mercer's the bad one. That's all I know for sure.

And finally, this is another feature of how allies tend to respond to things.

Of the two, Mercer is the one who unabashedly committed the massacre and oppressed the Sarentu for years. Mercer is "the bad one" because his actions are overt. They are clear cut, obvious, and maniacally evil.

When real world marginalized groups face microaggressions or covert prejudice, allies have a tendency to step in and defend the offender. "Hm, I don't think that was racist." "Are you sure that's homophobic?" "It's just a word. I don't see how it can be ableist to say." - "It's not like it's really hurting anyone."

When oppression is not as clear cut to allies, they tend to dismiss it entirely. It doesn't matter how the victims feel about the situation. As discussed earlier in the post, allies tend to think they have the authority and capability to make judgements on prejudice they do not face, and ergo believe they can determine how "bad" something really is. Better than the marginalized class can themselves.

In Priya's eyes, Alma is better than Mercer because Mercer's oppression was harsh yelling, explosions, and murder. "Mercer's the bad one" while Alma was "only trying to help."

But in truth, both Mercer and Alma have done and continued to do harmful things. They both played a part in the decimation and continued manipulation of the Sarentu. Both for their own selfish purposes.

Oppression has many faces. It does not always look the same, it is not always a mustache twirling villain. It can be subtle and quiet. It can be hidden behind gentle eyes and smiles. It can be from "good intentions" just as easily as it comes from "bad intentions". It can be subconscious, it can be self aware, it can be secretive, it can be out in the open. It can be many things. There is not only "one bad" style.

Oppression is just as diverse as the communities it aims to harm.

Conclusion

I want to reiterate that I do not dislike Priya and this post isn't a hate campaign against her. I know many dudebros in the fanbase unfairly criticize her.

The point of this post is to applaud the FOP writers. It is very rare when mainstream media is able to accurately depict how fragile allyship is. Priya's reaction to Nor stabbing Alma's avatar is painfully realistic to the many ways allies have reacted to certain situations in the real world.

This is one of the many reasons why I love this game and feel it hits home. Not only can I relate to the Na'vi clans, but my god can I relate to the way allies are written in relation to them. And I feel like this audio log from Priya, while brief and easily missable, is one of the prime moments of realism this game portrays really well.

#it's such a minor audio log / note #but it really hit me and i just had to talk abt it #frontiers of pandora #avatar frontiers of pandora #afop #priya chen #alma cortez #lexi plays afop #long text post // #long post // #sorry lol

[zombeebunnie]

Trembling Essence:💙Script progress + Updates💙

Hello and welcome new followers, long time no see! I was very busy most of this month, but I am back and ready to continue from where I left off on the game! This game development post might be a bit long but I tried to condense everything! :]

"How are things going so far?":

It's going slow and steady! I haven't been able to do too much these past few weeks, however, I wrote a few parts out before I got too busy and couldn't do anything else.

I want to be very careful when it comes to spoilers but, based on your choices, some of these areas will give off immersive cozy/homelike vibes that really express Noah and the player(Y/N)'s view towards each other. In the old 2023 script I was very new to writing so the small semi-hints of romance weren't the entire focus compared to the horror aspect but there's a better balance between both genres now and I'm still aiming for a meaningful slow burn versus it just being all over the place. :] I liked writing them a whole bunch which lead to a lot of these taking place in the mid/end of Day 4+, they just need to be placed in specific areas that call for it. With that being said, it felt really comfy adding key details about Noah and creating meaningful sections in the game. I was even going to draw out some of the unseen script/scenes but I believe the best thing to do is give deeper lore from the [Extended Demo] first. Even though my writing style has improved I still have to fix the multiple pacing issues I wrote last year.

"Playtester's advice":

I wanted to continue working through Noah's backstory but I kept having moments where I'd get sidetracked into wanting to fix up the start of the game again. Eventually, I talked to my play testers about it and they gave me a few encouraging pointers.

To help keep my process at ease, I will fix the beginning of the game when I take breaks from writing up Noah's backstory. :]

I talked about this during early 2024 but the start of the game that leads up to the cabin is still getting reworked. I was able to get some of it fixed for the [Extended Demo] but I wasn't done. Things are still up in the air but, I will say that I have a better view of everything than I did before. :] Another priority that needs fixing are the backgrounds! I've improved a lot on drawing and they need to be optimized. When you first start up the game, you wake up in a holed out tree in the swamp with the choice to leave this area and possibly end up in the forest. I was going for a very immersive form of symbolism that only a few noticed but, I believe I can do a better job about this. Unfortunately I don't have any new backgrounds to show right now but maybe next week I'll have some finished up! :]

"Art process/Noah's sprite sheets":

As far as Noah sprite sheet goes, it's still in sketch mode.

I didn't draw anything since I was gone so I need to do a few warm ups before I get to them. There are some old drawing prompts I wrote down and old sketches that I never got a chance to doodle so hopefully I can get to them at some point with some attached lore. :,]

My Q&A / Ask box has been reset!

Thank you to those who have sent in asks in the past, unfortunately they all disappeared except for 1 while I was gone. I have no idea what happened but I can only guess it just got reset.

If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask or resend them in here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!

This is all I have to share so far, Thank you to everyone for the continued support and patience while I was gone! I was ready to accept the interest for this game to fade out and coming back to see that it didn't happen makes me happy, I really appreciate it. :,]

#te updates #male yandere #visual novel #dating sim #yandere #illustration #digital art #murder sim #game development #horror game #art #artwork #artists on tumblr #indie game #otome #drawing #romance #anime drawing #anime art #vndev

[hauntedselves]

DEAR MAN: Making Yourself Heard

This interpersonal effectiveness skill helps you assert your boundaries, and get yourself heard and understood.

D: Describe

Describe the current situation (if necessary). Stick to the facts. Tell the person exactly what you are reacting to.

Example: “You told me you would be home by dinner but you didn’t get here until 11.”

E: Express

Express your feelings and opinions about the situation. Don’t assume that the other person knows how you feel.

Use phrases such as “I want” instead of “You should,” “I don’t want” instead of “You shouldn’t.”

Example: “When you come home so late, I start worrying about you.”

A: Assert

Assert yourself by asking for what you want or saying no clearly. Do not assume that others will figure out what you want. Remember that others cannot read your mind.

Example: “I would really like it if you would call me when you are going to be late.”

R: Reinforce

Reinforce (reward) the person ahead of time (so to speak) by explaining positive effects of getting what you want or need. If necessary, also clarify the negative consequences of not getting what you want or need. Remember also to reward desired behavior after the fact.

Example: “I would be so relieved, and a lot easier to live with, if you do that.”

M: stay Mindful

Keep your focus on your goals. Maintain your position. Don’t be distracted. Don’t get off the topic.

“Broken record”: Keep asking, saying no, or expressing your opinion over and over and over. Just keep replaying the same thing again and again.

Ignore attacks: If another person attacks, threatens, or tries to change the subject, ignore the threats, comments, or attempts to divert you. Do not respond to attacks. Ignore distractions. Just keep making your point.

Example: “I would still like a call.”

A: Appear confident

Appear effective and competent. Use a confident voice tone and physical manner; make good eye contact. No stammering, whispering, staring at the floor, retreating. No saying, “I’m not sure,” etc.

N: Negotiate

Be willing to give to get. Offer and ask for other solutions to the problem. Reduce your request. Say no, but offer to do something else or to solve the problem another way. Focus on what will work.

Turn the tables: Turn the problem over to the other person. Ask for other solutions.

Example: “How about if you text me when you think you might be late?” “What do you think we should do? . . . I can’t just stop worrying about you [or I’m not willing to].”

More tips

Describe the current interaction.

If the “broken record” and ignoring don’t work, make a statement about what is happening between you and the person now, but without imputing motives.

Example: “You keep asking me over and over, even though I have already said no several times,” or “It is hard to keep asking you to empty the dishwasher when it is your month to do it.”

Not: “You obviously don’t want to hear what I am saying,” “You obviously don’t care about me,” “Well, it’s obvious that what I have to say doesn’t matter to you,” “Obviously you think I’m stupid.”

Express feelings or opinions about the interaction.

For instance, in the middle of an interaction that is not going well, you can express your feelings of discomfort in the situation.

Example: “I am sorry I cannot do what you want, but I’m finding it hard to keep discussing it,” or “It’s becoming very uncomfortable for me to keep talking about this, since I can’t help it. I am starting to feel angry about it,” or “I’m not sure you think this is important for you to do.”

Not: “I hate you!”, “Every time we talk about this, you get defensive,” “Stop patronizing me!”

Assert wishes in the situation.

When another person is pestering you, you can ask them to stop it. When a person is refusing a request, you can suggest that you put the conversation off until another time. Give the other person a chance to think about it.

Example: “Please don’t ask me again. My answer won’t change,” or “OK, let’s stop discussing this now and pick it up again sometime tomorrow,” or “Let’s cool down for a while and then get together to figure out a solution.”

Not: “Would you shut up?” “You should do this!”, “You should really calm down and do what’s right here.”

Reinforce.

When you are saying no to someone who keeps asking, or when someone won’t take your opinion seriously, suggest ending the conversation, since you aren’t going to change your mind anyway. When trying to get someone to do something for you, you can suggest that you will come up with a better offer later.

Example: “Let’s stop talking about this now. I’m not going to change my mind, and I think this is just going to get frustrating for both of us,” or “OK, I can see you don’t want to do this, so let’s see if we can come up with something that will make you more willing to do it.”

Not: “If you don’t do this for me, I’ll never do anything for you ever again,” “If you keep asking me, I’ll get a restraining order against you,” “Gosh, you must be a terrible person for not doing this / for asking me to do this.”

- from DBT Skills Training Handouts and Worksheets (2015) by Marsha M. Linehan, pp. 125-7.

#dbt #dbt skills training #dear man #dearman #interpersonal relationships #interpersonal effectiveness #conflict resolution

[iwritesickfic]

Where I Need to Be - part 2

it's been a while since I put out part 1, but here's the conclusion! hope you enjoy :)

While the day has been miserable, Theo’s pretty sure he’s over the hump of whatever illness he has. He hasn’t thrown up since this morning, and his fever’s been under control (mostly) since he’s been able to hold down ibuprofen and water. He’s still got a pounding headache, and his stomach is puffy and tender, but all in all, it’s not as bad as it could be. And he knows how bad it could be.

He’s been in and out of sleep the last few hours, and he’s woken up most recently to a hushed phone conversation happening on the other side of the bedroom door. He’s only getting bits and pieces-

“Kelly, I told you…sick, that’s why…fever…Ok fine…One hour…Ok. Bye.”

Then the door opens, and Seamus is walking in. His smile is strained, but it’s there.

“Hey, love. How are we?” he asks, same gentle voice as always. It’s so different than the one he was using on the phone just a moment ago.

“Not bad,” he says, and for once he's telling the truth. Seamus sits down the edge of the bed, laying his hand on Theo’s forehead.

“You still feel pretty cool. Not cool, but not…not too hot,” he says, and runs his thumb back and forth over his sweat slick skin. They sit in silence for a while before Seamus speaks again. “So. I’m going to ask you something but I need you to be really, really honest. Ok?”

Theo nods. This will have to do with the phone call. Kelly is the artist whose album he’s working on. And who deeply, deeply dislikes Theo. Needless to say, she was not pleased to find out Seamus was missing a day of work to be with Theo, fever of 104 or not.

“There’s a dinner tonight with some people from the label, and Kelly- they want me to go.” There’s an expression on his face that Theo can only describe as shame. It makes sense he’d feel that way, but Theo doesn’t hold it against him. Work is work, they both know that, and some part of Theo was waiting for this conversation to come. And he can't even fully focus because his head is throbbing.

“Ok,” he says, voice shaky. “What did you tell them?”

“I told them I’d have to see about it but it’d only be there for an hour, tops. So be honest, if I was gone for two hours, do you think you’d be ok? Do you feel like it’s getting worse?”

“How big of a deal is it? Contract, or?” He already knows it’s a very big deal or Seamus wouldn’t be asking, but his answer will pretty much depend on it.

“That’s not…” He bites his lip. “It’s not contracted, but if they don’t like what they see…” He trails off before shaking his head. “It’s ok either way. If I stay or go. Just be honest.”

Honestly, he doesn’t want Seamus to leave. Not at all. That said, he doesn’t feel sick enough to justify making him stay. If sleeps for the next few hours, which is likely, there’d be no point in making Seamus stay home.

“Go. I’ll be fine.” A wave of relief seems to wash over Seamus, though the look of guilt doesn’t totally leave.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine for a couple hours.”

“Ok. Two hours. Tops.”

He’s asleep before Seamus even walks out the door. But when he wakes up, he realizes that this virus is far from done with him.

His whole body is shaking, sweat pouring off him, his clothes plastered to his skin. His stomach is in knots, and when he opens his mouth to take a gasping breath he immediately heaves up a mouthful of bile. He’s so hot. He’s never been so hot in his life. His chest is tight with it, his breath is shallow.

He knows he needs to get to the bathroom, but the minute he pushes himself up with trembling arms, the world spins, and he vomits again. God, his stomach. He moans and forces himself out of bed, and quickly finds he’s way too weak and dizzy to stand. He nearly faints before catching himself on the bedframe. Somehow, he finds his way to the bathroom and falls hard to his knees before leaning over the toilet and heaving again.

The cold of the tile almost hurts his fevered skin. It feels raw, just like his throat. His chin is sticky with drying vomit, and he peels off his shirt. When his hand goes to touch his cramping middle he can't hold back the whimper that escapes. It's so tender - the touch feels like a stab. He also can feel that he’s very, very bloated. The normally concave expanse of his abs is jutting out from his hips, puffy and aching. The waistband of his shorts presses uncomfortably into the swell, and combined with the pressure of his touch, it makes him retch.

In between heaves he can’t hold his head up, so he slumps against the toilet bowl, forehead on the cold porcelain rim.

Sweat drips from the tip of his nose on the floor below him. His breath is gasping in and out, and he's not sure whether he's shaking with fever or sheer exertion.

“Seamus!” He calls as loudly as his voice will let him, which isn’t very loud at all. It's cracked and thin. In that moment he remembers Seamus isn’t here. The thought wrenches a sob from him.

God, he’s so pathetic. A quivering mess, crying for his boyfriend, vomit on his chin. There are a few minutes of respite where he just sits there trying to catch his breath, chest jumping up and down, praying for relief from the fever and the throbbing in his skull. Praying it’s almost… What time is it? What time did Seamus leave?

Before he can think much harder on it, he’s vomiting again. There's only bile now, nothing else is left in his stomach. But once the bile is gone, it doesn’t stop. It’s wringing him out. He’s dry heaving until he’s too weak to. He’s still dripping sweat. It burns his eyes, stings his chapped lips.

He needs to get his phone. He needs to call Seamus. It has to have been two hours by now - it feels like he’s been in this bathroom for 5. But it can’t have been, because Seamus would be back.

The bedroom. His phone is in the bedroom.

He’s no stranger to being this sick, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

He stumbles back down the hall, having to stop and lean against the wall every few steps when his lightheadedness is too much to handle.

He gets the phone. His hands are shaking so badly he almost drops it. He taps Seamus's perfect, smiling photo. Immediately, he hears his voicemail message - "Hey, it's Seamus. I don't really check my voicemail so just shoot me a text! Thanks." There's a dial tone, and Theo hangs up. He calls again. The phone is sticking to the side of his face. Same thing.

This is a nightmare. It has to be. He looks at the time. It's after 10, Seamus should've been home by 8.

Theo is slumped on the floor, back against the wall, just trying to breathe evenly enough to avoid throwing up any more than he already has. The last bout of vomiting had quelled the nausea slightly, but it's back, despite him still not having anything in his stomach to purge. His mouth is dry and sour but the thought of even rinsing it out makes his stomach churn.

He opens his texts. It takes a long time to type a message. It's riddled with typos but his hands are shaking too badly to do any better. It's something along the lines of "where are you? i need you". Normally he wouldn't be so direct, but he's desperate.

Then the world is spinning, spinning, spinning. And then he’s asleep.

Every extra minute Seamus is sitting at this table he's nervous. But, he reminds himself for the thousandth time, Theo would've called if something was wrong. He's probably asleep. His phone has been silent all night, tucked in the pocket of his coat where it hangs from the back of his chair. He's glanced at it a few times, but nothing's come through.

Still, he promised Theo two hours. It's been four. And even if he leaves now, it'll be four and a half.

He's glad he came though. As much as it would've gone just fine without him, he has way more experience dealing with execs than Kelly does. Zeke even flew in from New York. The meeting started at a restaurant in the city and migrated to some random pub a few doors down after the execs were on their way.

At about 11 he goes to the bathroom and grabs his phone as an afterthought. There are absolutely no notifications, which seems strange.

Upon closer examination, he sees it's set to "do not disturb." He definitely did not set it to "do not disturb." He stops in the doorway of the bathroom as he sees the notifications flood in. 6 missed calls. Five unread texts. All from Theo. He has to stop himself from sprinting back to get his coat. He's immediately in panic mode.

Kelly, Zeke and a few other acquaintances from the label look up from their conversation.

"Whoa, what's up?" Zeke asks as Seamus throws on his coat with shaking hands.

"I just - It's an emergency," he manages to say. Zeke furrows his eyebrows but doesn't protest. Kelly huffs.

"Seamus, please. He can take care of himself," she says, and he freezes in place. Zeke looks very confused now.

"Theo?" Zeke interjects, but Seamus doesn't bother responding.

"I told him I'd be home at 8 and it's 11 and he's been trying to call me since 10. I don't know why my phone…" He trails off. He can barely think straight. Kelly crosses her arms and looks at Zeke, whose lips are pressed into a line. "What?"

"Well, we agreed it'd be best if there weren't any distractions," Kelly says. Seamus isn't someone who ever really gets angry, per se, but he's angry right now. Furious. But everyone is staring at him now, and it'll only look unprofessional if he loses his shit. He turns his gaze to Zeke, who looks extremely guilty.

"I didn't know something was wrong, I-" He starts and Seamus clenches his jaw. He starts to stammer out a reply before realizing that every minute he spends here is one minute he's wasting.

"I'll see you guys Monday," he says, trying to keep his voice as even as possible, ignoring the shouts of his name as he leaves.

He tries to call Theo. It rings, but there's no answer. He calls again. Still nothing. He's going about 20 over the speed limit, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. When he walks into the house he doesn't even bother taking off his coat or shoes.

"Theo?" He calls. No answer. He knows logically that Theo's not dead, but the panic in his chest does not seem to know that.

He stops in the doorway of the bedroom. Theo's on the floor, half curled up, shaking like a leaf. Seamus is frozen for a moment before he rushes to him.

Theo's skin is hot - so ungodly fucking hot - and so incredibly pale. Seamus shakes his shoulder lightly, and though Theo moans softly, he doesn't open his eyes.

"Teddy?" Seamus asks, running his hand up and down Theo's arm. Theo's eyelids flutter, and another small sound of pain escapes his chapped lips. Seamus taps his cheek gently. "Teddy, baby."

Theo's eyes finally open, only halfway but enough for Seamus to know he's conscious. When his gaze lands on Seamus's face he lets out a sobbing breath.

"Shh, you're ok," Seamus murmurs, trying to keep his voice steady. He lifts Theo so he's sitting upright, almost all his weight on Seamus. His forehead rests on Seamus's shoulder, his breathing shallow and labored through sobs. He smells like vomit and sweat, and his hands are immediately clinging to Seamus's shirt. "I’m gonna lift you up, alright?"

Theo doesn't reply, but Seamus wasn't necessarily asking for permission.

He maneuvers Theo's limp body so he can pick him up, and tries to ignore the spike of panic when all of his body is pressed against him. He's on fire, trembling, letting out little whimpers of pain at every movement. Theo doesn’t cry like this. Ever. And it’s making Seamus very nervous.

He's glad he works out enough to squat 250, because Theo is only a little over half that. He doesn't bother trying to get his shorts off before placing him in the bathtub, his long legs bent in the small space. Seamus turns on the water and rummages to find the thermometer.

Theo doesn't even make a sound as the cold water hits his skin, and doesn't even seem to notice when Seamus slips the thermometer under his tongue. As the water rises and he waits for the thermometer to do its job, the guilt really starts to set in.

He should've been here. Instead, he was out at a bar, drinking and laughing and assuming everything was fine. He should have noticed his phone was fucked up, he should've left when he said he would. He doesn't know how bad the fever is exactly, but he would wager a guess that it's really fucking bad. Odds are all the vomiting made him dehydrated, which made his fever worse, which made the nausea worse, and around and around until they got here.

He takes one of Theo's limp hands, and with the other, calls Zeke. It's only a ring or two before he picks up.

"What's up?" He asks, and Seamus suddenly feels like he might cry.

"I think I need to take him to A&E." His voice is shaking.

"The-" He cuts Zeke off before he can finish.

"The ER."

"Ok, ok. Uh…" Zeke trails off, clearly flustered. The background noise of the bar softens and a door closes. Seamus cuts in again.

"Do we have anyone here who could come give an IV?" In New York, Theo has people who'll come to wherever he is and give him the basics without having to go to the actual hospital, but Seamus has no idea what's at their disposal in Ireland. He kicks himself for not thinking to find out before now.

"Uh, I can check. I'll call around. Maybe. Is he-"

"I might be able to get it- get the fever down, but he's really dehydrated, so…" Seamus trails off. "You have people here, right?"

"I mean, yeah. In theory. It's just-"

"Just find out what's faster. I can drive him to A&- the ER, or someone can come here. Either way, just find out what's quicker, ok?"

"Ok. I'll call you back in a few, just hang tight." He doesn't hang up just yet. "And I'm sorry, I never would've let Kelly have your phone if I knew what was going on."

"Well she shouldn't have my phone anyway."

"Right."

"Yeah. Just call me back when you know, ok?"

"Ok, hang tight."

The line goes dead and Seamus checks his watch before taking the thermometer out of Theo's mouth. 40.5. He stares at the reading for longer than he needs to, feeling the panic in his chest spike.

Theo’s eyelids are fluttering now, and the hand Seamus is holding tightens around his.

“Oh my God…” Theo breathes out, his voice ragged and thin. “Fuck.”

“You’re ok, you’re ok,” Seamus says, and dips his hand in the cool water before laying it on Theo’s forehead. A towel or washcloth would work better, but he can’t make himself move from this spot.

“Shay, I…” he murmurs, before trailing off, “I had the worst nightmare.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he says back gently, wiping Theo’s chin. It’s taking so much effort to maintain this facade of calm, but he knows if he starts to freak out, it’ll only make things worse.

“I…In my dream…I kept calling you and calling you,” he mumbles, and Seamus is immediately sick to his stomach with guilt. “But you wouldn’t answer. And I was alone.”

It takes everything in him to speak around the lump in his throat.

"I'm here now," is all he manages to choke out. He can't bring himself to lie outright. He'll need to come clean eventually, but not now when Theo's still half delirious. "You've had your appendix out, right?"

Theo nods.

"Burst. In college.” Despite the cold water, Theo doesn't seem to be getting any cooler. He's not even shivering.

He's gathering Theo's hair into a little bun when Zeke calls him back.

“What did they say?” He asks, and Zeke sighs.

“They have people in Dublin, but they wouldn't be able to make it to you until tomorrow morning. I could call you a car but I think it'd just be faster for you to drive him in. If you feel like that's what he needs.”

It's a horrible drive. Then a horrible night.

When they drive home the next morning, Theo's still running a fever, but it's not as bad as it was. The insides of his arms and the backs of his hands are bruised - he was so dehydrated they had to jab him about ten times to find a vein for the IV.

He's able to walk inside from the car, which is a major improvement, but he collapses on the couch as soon as he walks in.

“I'm gonna make some tea, alright?” Seamus asks, carefully stroking some of his hair back from his face. Theo just nods, closing his eyes.

As he makes the tea, he knows he needs to tell him. Not today. No, he’ll wait, he thinks, and tries to convince himself it's for Theo’s benefit. He doesn't quite manage.

#my writing #whump #sickfic #illness kink #oc theo #oc seamus #fever #emeto

[hopesallwegotleft]

#House of Ashes #Salim Othman #Jason Kolchek #so this scene has been giffed a lot but #I just wanted to really focus on their expressions here #my gifsets #can't get over how smiley Jason is here with Salim after being so serious/sarcastic the whole game #Salim saw a pop-up appear above Jason's head that was like 'Jason will now die for you'

[sysig]

Some highlights from a tense but still very Winterkov-y scene (Patreon)

#Doodles #Adventure Time #Fionna and Cake #Simon Petrikov #Winter King #Winterkov #The first five are all in sequence and then from there it's a bit sporadic #I dunno if this is one I'm gonna finish by they did both turn out very cute so I wanted to show some of them off lol #It's mostly a headcanon comic about how they differ in attractions (basically how much influence the Crown has on Winter) #I initially compared Winter to a slightly more chill Bill Cipher - a non-human entity inhabiting a human body #Probably tempered by how much Simon is still left over - not a lot but even a little does make a difference! #In that there's a lot of things the Crown might get out of a human body while still experiencing an entirely alien interpretation of stimuli #It's all just a lot of character analysis headcanon stuff lol - the Winterkov is still the main focus! Here anyway lol #I am very endeared at the idea posited by some fanfic writers that inviting Simon to the lab was just a pretense lol #He /did/ have to get out of his clothes before getting into new ones lol #They really do both have such lovely designs ah <3 They're fun to draw! #This was a lot of settling into them - I love the little floof-lifts that Winter has from Simon #His hair is long but it's still not completely able to weigh itself down from his voluminous bob! Very cute #The nose ears and shape of Winter's glasses really set him apart but their similarities are so fun #And while it's not featured here Simon's shy little smiles vs. Winter's big and loud expressions! Their contrasting features are so neat! #Very enjoyable character design