#but I have so much love in my heart for these concepts

[neominthe]

SPOILERS FOR SCTIR FOR +CH 200

CW: (possibly) Eating disorder ED, depression

Something that keeps me awake at night: at the beggining of the story, Yoohyun's death isn't so painful for the viewers, because we only see what is on the surface of the Han brothers' life. It's through memories and flashbacks that we get to learn 3 facts: Yoojin dedicated his entire life to Yoohyun, they parted ways and in the end they reunited, only for one of them die. That's the introduction of SCTIR for us. Moreover, Yoojin is desesperate to leave the past behind, so he doesn't linger on his traumatic memories for too long, hence why the pain of reading SCTIR isn't instant.

It is gradual.

Yoojin and we learn that the past was never erased. It still happened, and exists in the form of Yoohyun's body out in the cold. Gradually, it becomes more apparent how Yoojin is still so affected by his previous life, despite his fear resistance skill. It starts with small things like him avoiding eating unless someone tells him to do so, always occupying himself with tasks that could be handled by someone else, negative thoughts about himself for every single action he takes and so on. I love, with all my heart, the manhwa, but the novel makes it so much more apparent how Yoojin loathes himself, to the point he keeps wishing he wasn't a human being, rather an item for his brother to use. It's so messed up to want to abandon all your humanity, feelings and concept of self just so you can be of help.

SCTIR is fun to read, but even more so with the unreliable narrator that is Yoojin. He sees what he does as nothing impressive, considering the people he is surrounded with, despite running the kisengsu facility, negotiating with the hair loss company to develop a new product, managing Seok Hayan's research team, mantaining diplomatic ties with Japan, training and helping other hunters and, most importantly, caring for all the S classes. He worries for their well-being because it's only natural for him to do so, as the Perfect Caregiver.

And, in the middle of it all, the only thing Yoojin spares for himself is hate. He doesn't want to live long for himself, but rather for Yoohyun, even though Yoojin already has been through the pain of loss. When Yoojin died in chapter 241, the first thing that he thought was Yoohyun. He didn't even think about how much it hurted dying (with a freaking shot on the head)! He just wanted to reunite and soothe Yoohyun that he was okay.

Speaking of which, in Sigma's arc, as Yoojin was alone, he really stopped caring for his well-being, so Sung Hyunjae took that role and did everything he could to help Yoojin. But, for him to even have to create a quest just so Yoojin could eat is what sparked my lizard brain to write this post.

My point is, there isn't an arc dedicated for recovery (at least until the chapter I have read that is like, ~300) and that is beautiful, because Yoojin is still processing what he went through, and we get to see that. Yoojin has such an interesting character arc as he begins wanting to forget the past, as it is too painful, to start running after it. He can't let go of it, because letting it go means letting his little brother go too. Which is why he says he will never be okay again in chapter 278.

#i sound delusional #i like to see him suffer okay! #its good angst #i didnt expect sctir to have so much angst #actually I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED THAT!!!! #im actually rereading s classes #but its like a whole new experience #its so good #SCTIR IS SO GOOD #sctir #the s classes that i raised #s classes that i raised #han yoojin #han yoohyun #spoilers #sung hyunjae

[darkwolf989]

heyy ik this is weird to ask but cam you do valentino's daugher x vox idk why but im screaming for content and honestly i think it would be interesting to see if they "got along" you coulf say you dont have to do this i just find this a interesting concept like imagine if they had more of a special bond then valentino and his own daugher plus im sorry if this is to much to ask for

Hi there,

Sorry for the delay! Take a peek at this one- and let me know if you were thinking a different vibe!

~Mandy

“Hey, Uncle Vox!” I called cheerfully as I walked into his office.  Two more nights, two more until my final game of the school year. As an avid water polo player, my games were the height of my highschool experience and this final game this year was one I had been working hard towards. I tossed my backpack on my desk next to my Uncle Vox’s and slid myself into my chair. 

My weekday routine had been the same since I started school. With my father being The Valentino, and the odd hours he worked, it was my Uncle Vox who usually woke me up early and kept me on a schedule. Brushing my teeth, getting me dressed, breakfast and out the door when I was little. Now that I was sixteen, that morning routine looked a little different. Instead of waking up at seven, I woke up at four with Uncle Vox. We hit the gym together, then parted ways until it was time for breakfast- or more importantly, coffee. Sometimes my dad joined us, and sometimes my Auntie Vel joined us. But with their ever changing schedules more often than not it just wasn’t practical for them to join. So Uncle Vox stayed the consistent one. 

“Hey yourself, kid,” Vox replied as he stood up out of his chair. “Your dad is on the line, he wants to chat with you.” 

I slid into Vox’s seat and my fathers face appeared on the monitor in front of me. My heart soared. I bet he had a big surprise waiting to celebrate after tomorrow night.

“Hi Daddy!” I said cheerfully. “Are you ready to watch me rock it tomorrow?” 

My father’s face looked sad. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about bebita. I’m sorry, I won’t make it. I have a crisis to handle down in the greed ring and I…” 

I could feel the sadness wash over me. The rest of the conversation went in one ear and out the other and I tried to hide my crushing disappointment. 

“I’m sorry baby, but your Uncle Vox and Auntie Vel will be there and they promised to keep me updated.” My father finished. “I’ll make it up to you later okay? We can do whatever you want. Daddy daughter day.”

Yeah, sure. I had heard that one before. To date, he owed me no less than six daddy daughter days. And the flowers and trinkets he sent to make up for his absence didn’t help either. He tried- I knew it. But nothing he said or did would make up for his lack of presence. 

I signed off and put my head in my hands as I tired to keep tears from falling down my face. I felt Vox’s hand on my shoulder and I looked back at him as I bit back bitter disappointment. 

Vox seemed to recognize the look on my face. “Aw honey, I know. But we’ll be there. I promise.” He squeezed my shoulder gently. “Your Auntie Vel and I will cheer you on.” 

“Yeah, at least someone cares.” I muttered as I rubbed my eyes. 

“Now you know that isn’t true sweetheart,” Vox began. “Your Daddy loves you very much, his work just…”

“You make time for me!” I said angrily. “You make it a point to sit with me and go to my games and ask me about my day, I can’t remember the last time I saw my dad at one of my games or even just right after school!” 

“My schedule is a lot more fluid than your dads is sweetheart,” he replied calmly. “I understand your frustration, but if your dad could make it he would.”

It was the age-old argument. After a few seconds, I stood up and Vox pulled me into a hug. 

“Hey, you’re loved. Don’t forget that, okay?” He planted a kiss on my forehead. “Now let’s get that homework done.” 

I scowled but sat back down at my desk. The homework rule had been instilled by my father from my first days of preschool. Home. Snack. Work. Sometimes at my pink desk in my room, if it was Dad or auntie Vel picked me up. But more often than not, it was uncle Vox who showed up in the limo and he had work to do too. As I grew, the desk next to his grew as well. From a tiny pink plastic chair to a full grown pink office chair- I sat right by Uncle Vox almost every single day. 

His snack drawer too changed as I grew- from cheeze-itz, to fresh fruit, to protein bars and goldfish. 

“Hey, can you check this one?” I asked after a few moments of work. “Uncle Vox?”

“Did you try it three times three different ways and watch a video?” He replied back without another glance. 

“Yeah.”

“Then, sure.” He lifted his head up and picked up my homework sheet. He glanced it over. “I think this is a quadratic formula problem. You forgot the square root sign- remember the song?”

“I do but…”

He cleared his throat. “X equals negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus for ac all over two a!”

To his credit, the song was a great study tool. To my mortification, Vox couldn’t sing worth a damn. 

“You’re way too enthusiastic about math,” I muttered as I made the correction. 

“But I was right wasn’t I?” He teased as he turned back to his computer. 

“That’s not the point,” I replied. Not to my surprise, the problem worked itself out. “Thanks Uncle Vox.” 

I stood up and leaned in between him and his desk wrapped my arms around him. “And thanks for being the best uncle a girl could want.” 

I felt him return the hug. “Love you, kiddo. More than you’ll ever know.” 

I released him and he grinned. “If you get your homework done quickly I’ll take you to the pool and run a few practice rounds with you. And then I’ll take you out to dinner- see if Auntie can meet us.”

The work that went into Vox being able to get into the water was tremendous- not to mention he’d be leaving his job early. 

“Really? You have time for that?” I asked. 

“For you sweetie? I’ll always have time.”

#hazbin hotel #the vees #valentino x you #valentino #the vees x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #hazbin fluff #vox x reader #valentino x wife #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #voxval #vox hazbin hotel

[perseabeth]

Milo’s Lyre

this is a one shot written about @anotheroceanid amazing fic titled When the Horizon Bloom, read it on AO3 you will enjoy it very much and get your heart broken in the most beautiful way possible. I published another one shot about this fic titled “What If” you can read it too- I got this idea last night during my angst hour with @anotheroceanid, and after few tears, and of course her inspiration, I decided that you should cry with us too! - i do not own the idea of the fic and i certainly do not own any character, all belong to the great author of the fic that made me cry more than my college curriculum enjoy ✨

Apollo no longer remembers how the dream began. He isn't even certain how he can dream at all. He once believed that gods were immune to such mortal experiences, but ever since his love vanished, dreams and nightmares have haunted him in every stolen moment he tries to delve into slumber. This dream, however, was different.

It was serene. Apollo sat upon a rock, a glittering sea stretching before him. His heart ached with a profound sorrow. The sea... How could he ever gaze upon the ocean again without seeing her eyes? How could he ever look at the waves and not remember the way they mirrored her gaze?

Sometimes, he would embark on frantic quests, searching for the sea that truly captured the color of her eyes, just to glimpse those sea-green eyes once more.

How long had it been? Seven years? For gods, time was an irrelevant concept, a fleeting notion in the face of immortality. Normally, seven years would pass as quickly as seven minutes. But these seven years... These years had stretched into millennia. He never knew time could crawl so slowly, could torture so mercilessly.

Apollo cradled his golden lyre, the instrument that once brought her such joy. He remembered the first time she heard him play, the radiant sparkle in her eyes, the breathtaking smile that stole his soul forever. His fingers, delicate and reverent, brushed against the strings, coaxing a serene melody from the lyre. Each note floated through the air like a whisper, and even the restless sea stilled its waves, entranced by the music.

Minutes passed in this harmonious reverie until Apollo felt a presence behind him—a presence so calm, so peaceful, carrying the unmistakable scent of the sea. Hope surged through him. Could it be his love? Could he finally see her in his dreams?

He turned his head slowly, afraid to wake from this fragile hope. As he did, his eyes met sea-green ones, and his heart melted, his soul awakening. Percy’s eyes… But something wasn’t right. The figure before him was a young boy, no older than six or seven, with golden curls that framed his face in a halo of sunlight. The boy was breathtakingly beautiful. Apollo's heart clenched as he took in the boy’s features. They reminded him of himself in one moment, and then of his love in the next, as if he were a perfect blend of them both.

Apollo's heart clenched. This boy… he looked like the son he might have had if Percy were still here. Shock rendered him speechless as he gazed into those familiar eyes. It was as if the child embodied the essence of their love, a living testament to a future that had been cruelly taken from them.

The boy stood cautiously, studying Apollo with a curious intensity. His golden locks tumbled over his forehead, and he wore a simple chiton that only enhanced his cherubic innocence.

“Can I see this, sir?” The boy’s voice was soft and melodic, yet firm and confident—far beyond his six years. His eyes darted to the lyre in Apollo’s hands, and Apollo finally realized what the boy wanted.

But Apollo was too shocked to speak. The boy stood silently, waiting for Apollo's response. When he finally understood, he nodded. “Of course.”

The boy took careful steps toward Apollo. As he stood before him, the sun god wondered who had raised this child. Most children snatched what they desired without hesitation; they didn’t wait politely for anything. Yet, this boy's sea-green eyes looked up at him with pure innocence and curiosity. He bent slightly to study the lyre, his hands kept respectfully to himself as if he were afraid to touch it.

Apollo realized the boy wouldn't touch the lyre unless he gave it to him.

“Here,” he extended the lyre to the boy. “You can hold it.

The boy hesitated, shaking his head. “No, no, it must be precious.” His voice was filled with a respectful reverence that belied his age, making Apollo's heart beats with admiration.

Apollo gave the young boy a gentle smile. “No, it will be fine here,” he said, pushing the lyre into the boy’s hands. The boy took it with utmost care, his eyes filling with wonder as he studied it. He looked at the lyre as if it were the eighth wonder of the world, his interest and amazement clear.

“Can I ask how you made it, sir? It is amazingly beautiful,” the boy asked, his curiosity shining with pure beauty and innocence.

Apollo smiled fondly, remembering how the lyre came into his possession. “My brother stole my cattle and gave this to me,” he chuckled.

The boy chuckled too, hiding his mouth with his small hands. “This reminds me of a story Mama tells me, about the sun god and the messenger of the gods.”

Apollo froze. The boy’s interest shifted back to the lyre, while Apollo tried to process the millions of questions racing through his mind. His mother told him stories? Apollo was about to ask more when the boy looked up and spoke in his soft, melodic voice. “If you don’t mind… can you,” the boy paused, choosing his words carefully, “can you teach me how to play it? The melody you played was beautiful.”

Apollo, still dumbfounded, watched the boy. “I think I figured out how to make it, but I want to play it for Mama. She seems sad lately, and she loves melodies so much. She sings me lullabies, but I don’t know any to sing for her. So maybe, maybe I can play her something nice that makes her smile.”

Questions swirled around Apollo’s mind. How could a child so young speak with such confidence and wisdom? But the most pressing question came to his lips. “Where is your mother?”

The boy, still focused on the lyre, answered, “On an island.”

“Where is the island?” Apollo asked.

The boy smiled as if Apollo had asked something silly, his smile bright and peaceful. “In the sea,” he said, then paused. “But Mama says the sea is dangerous.”

Apollo looked at the boy, confused. The boy’s answers seemed to reveal everything and nothing at the same time. Dangerous sea? He couldn’t be Percy’s son. Apollo's shoulders slumped. He couldn’t be Percy’s son. Perhaps his mind was creating illusions, offering a glimpse of a future he could never have, mixing him and Percy together to create the child Apollo had always dreamed Percy would carry.

Apollo looked into the boy’s eyes—Percy’s eyes—deciding that maybe, just maybe, he could live this dream for as long as it lasted. For as long as this dream allows him, he wants to imagine that this, indeed, is the child he created with his love. He held the boy’s hand, guiding him on where to place his fingers on the lyre. “Here, let me teach you” he said softly, positioning the small fingers with gentle precision on the lyre’s strings.

The boy was, in fact, the eighth wonder of the world, Apollo thought, as he looked at the young boy whose golden locks glowed in the sunlight.

Once—that was all the instruction the boy needed to create the most beautiful symphony Apollo had ever heard. The boy’s fingers danced over the strings with an innate skill, plucking and strumming as if he had been born for this. The melody flowed seamlessly, each note a shimmering thread weaving through the air, enchanting everything around them.

Apollo smiled fondly at the boy, who was also in amazement, his radiant smile outshining even the sun. The sea sparkled with the boy’s joy, and the sun, feeling almost humbled, began to set beyond the horizon, casting a golden portrait over the world.

Suddenly, the boy stopped and carefully extended the lyre back to Apollo. “I have to wake up now. Mama will wake up soon, and I can’t let her do things alone.”

Apollo’s brows knotted in confusion. “Where are we now?”

The boy smiled brightly. “We are dreaming, of course.”

Apollo took the lyre, looking at it before turning back to the boy. “You can have it.”

The young boy shook his head, making his golden locks jiggle. “It is a gift from your brother. It is precious.” He smiled, a smile that warmed Apollo’s soul, his beautiful sea-green eyes glowing with kindness. Apollo didn't want to wake up. He just wanted to see Percy’s eyes a little longer. Even if it was a hallucination, he wanted to remember those eyes longer.

The boy smiled at Apollo as he began to turn his head. “Thank you for helping me make Mama happy. Next time, when we meet, I’ll try to teach you something too.” And with that, the boy started walking away, slowly dissolving into the dream's fabric.

It didn't take long for Apollo to lose consciousness of the dream. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bed on Olympus, the morning light casting a gentle glow through his window.

Apollo sat on his bed, his chamber unchanged, Olympus glowing just as it always had. But his heart was heavy with a sorrow that even the gods would struggle to bear.

A sad smile graced Apollo’s lips—a smile that held an ocean of pain, a pain too deep for mortals to fathom. The Fates had always been cruel to him, but now even his own mind seemed to conspire in their cruelty, conjuring hallucinations to torment him.

A young boy, the eighth wonder of the world—a boy he could have had if Percy were still with him. If only she were here, somewhere beside him. He was certain she would have adored this boy, cherished him with all her heart. But he was not real.. And his Percy was not here.

Apollo rubbed his eyes, longing to wake up, to return to his duties, to mourn a girl whose disappearance remained a haunting mystery. And to mourn an imaginary son, whom he was certain he would never see again.

—————————

Gaea’s Island

Percy was puzzled by her son’s urgency that morning. After helping her with his brothers, he dashed outside, claiming to have something important to attend to.

She didn’t pry too much into Milo’s affairs, trusting that whatever he was up to, he knew how to avoid trouble, unlike her eldest, Hector. As long as it was Milo, she assured herself, he would be fine.

But Milo had been unusually preoccupied for days now. Whenever Percy found him, he would hastily hide something behind his back, claiming it was important. Percy didn’t dwell on it, assuming it was a surprise he didn’t want her to see. She smiled at the thought.

Then, she heard it—a beautiful melody that froze her in place. For a moment, she thought it was a dream, a hallucination conjured by her own longing. an image of a man with the most beautiful sky-blue eyes, creating serene melodies for her suddenly occupied her mind.. But the sound of footsteps snapped her back to reality. She followed the sound, Hector and Luke trailing behind her, until she suddenly stopped.

On the grass sat a young boy with golden locks, his sea-green eyes shining with joy as he looked up at her. Her Milo. In his hands, a wooden instrument created the most enchanting melody she had ever heard since she arrived to this island

It didn’t take long for Percy to realize what her son had made. Her heart swelled with oceans of emotions, pain, sorrow, pride and love as she beheld her precious Milo, crafting a lyre with his own small hands.

Percy approached Milo, her heart overflowing with a mixture of confusion and love. A single tear traced its way down her cheek as Hector and Luke stood nearby, mesmerized by the beautiful sound emanating from Milo's creation.

Milo looked up at her with a bright smile, but confusion clouded his features as he furrowed his brows. “You don’t like it, Mama? I made it for you.”

Without hesitation, Percy rushed forward, enveloping Milo in a tight embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I love it… I love it so much.”

“Then why are you crying?” Milo asked, puzzled.

“They're tears of happiness, my love,” Percy whispered, her voice choked with emotion. Tears of happiness—tears of memories, pain, and pride. Tears of many things.

Milo pulled away, showing Percy the delicate wooden instrument he had crafted. “Here, let me show you more,” he said eagerly, his fingers deftly plucking at the strings.

As Milo played, Percy couldn’t help but notice how he resembled his father in that moment. Not a mere version, like Luke, but a reflection—a radiant embodiment of his father's spirit.

Then it struck her—how did Milo know about the lyre? It was Hermes who created it, nd given it to Apollo, later becoming Apollo's symbol. How could Milo know exactly what a lyre looked like? She had always believed that their father lived on in their souls, but she never imagined it would manifest in such a tangible way.

Puzzled, Percy looked at her son. “How did you learn to make this?”

Milo beamed at her, his eyes sparkling with the wisdom of the universe. “In my dream, of course, Mama.”

The answer did little to quell Percy’s bewilderment. She watched as her son proudly displayed his creation, insisting that she should smile because he had made it for her happiness. He even taught his brothers how to hold it so they could all bring joy to their mother.

She watched them take turns playing, each displaying a pure talent they hadn’t known they possessed

Her Milo, her precious children, and her precious lost love…

A few days later, the lyre disappeared from the island, as if it had never existed before.

#wthb fic #wthb Apollo #wthb percy #wthb Milo #perpollo #Bahia writing

[maleyanderecafe]

Good day! I was wondering if your review on Restart Heart has changed after the new demo came out recently? If you haven't played it yet, I suggest trying it out and letting us know what you think of it.

After trying my hand at the updated demo, I can safely say that my personal opinion has changed quite a bit since the very first version. The MC seems a touch more like an insufferable prick now with how rude they are towards some characters, how "Mary Sue" they act in given situations, and how they overreact to certain events occurring around them. Their inner thoughts and rational thinking are nothing like mine as well, but that's more of a personal thing. While I'm aware it's currently still a demo and these events aren't considered "canon" by the dev, it isn't exactly doing a good job at persuading me to try out the finished version of the game once it comes out.

I do like that there are more than one "main" yandere now, however unfortunately none of the other characters aside from Ezra and Sammy really appeal to me. Each character seems very "stereotypical" and play into a very specific trope, but it's been like that since the first release so I'm not too bothered by it. I guess I was hoping for more developed and interesting characters in the update and got let down with the lack of improvement from the first version.

I'm also unsure how I feel about how overly "woke" the demo is trying to be? The overuse of Arabic phrases by Bess seems somewhat out of place and repetitive, so many characters are overtly trans or use their ethnicity as a base for their personality (especially seen on tumblr), the NSFW scenes [in the first version] feel like I was being babysat with the constant "consent check ins" and boundary implementations, and characters like Steph talk about their job [a pornstar] as though it's something to glorify or romanticize. The game's job is to make these characters appealing enough for us to pursue but I can't get over how forced/unnecessary their backstories and personalities feel. I'm transmasc myself but I'm put off by these constant reminders being shoved in my face at every turn, especially on the official tumblr page. I like that these sorts of things are being represented in a positive way (much less in a visual novel where it's so rare), but I don't like how constant and overplayed they are.

I will say that the writing has definitely improved in the new demo and it doesn't feel as overtly casual with the grammar and punctuation anymore (almost as if the narrator was texting me rather than talking to me). The characters have established connections with the MC now which I like, though I understand that this may not be everyone's cup of tea. The new CGs are nice too, however I won't comment on the updated art style since I personally prefer the scratchy anime style of games like TKATB, Mushroom Oasis, and even 14DWY [the first version]. I've always liked the music used and the GUI looks good, so I didn't mind not seeing much of an update for them in the new demo.

Overall, I have mixed feelings but I'm hopeful and optimistic that the finished version will be much better if the updated demo is anything to go by. I also hope there won't be a price tag on the finished product because as good as it is now, there is still so much that needs to be improved on to justify even a $5 label. These are my personal thoughts, though I'd love to hear yours as well.

It took me a while to replay the new demo and then find the older demos since it's no longer on the itchio page (There is still a link for the third day, but I had to watch epsylion's video on the fourth day, which excludes some routes). I admit that while I am generally aware of what is going on with various vns and their updates, I haven't had time to really go through and play most of them, so if there is a game that I have gone over before but it has updated, feel free to send me an ask.

Restart Heart seems to have an interesting conception, with the game going up to it's fourth day, before eventually being pulled back into a shorter demo that encapsulates the first day, likely to revamp and improve on the game as a whole. As such, I'm not sure if I've missed anything specifically as I'm not on the patreon . As a quick recap, the general plot of the first demo was that the MC, Sugar basically went on a huge party rager after finding out their ex fiance cheated on them and got their younger sister pregnant. As a result, the four days that we do spend with Sugar and the other characters are generally Sugar attempting to get back on their feet with the help of Ezra and the other characters, Bess, Blaire, Sammy, Chris and Steph along with sleeping with some of them if you so choose to. The new demo is a bit similar but only covers Sugar before finding out about the cheating, with them having a smaller interaction with the rest of the crew at the chocolate place they work at (namely that they almost got crushed by a bunch of staplers).

I think compared to the four day version of Restart Heart, I actually prefer this new demo's Sugar to the old one, though that's likely going to change once they find out about the cheating that's going on. While I understand that Sugar is going through a generally horrible situation of someone cheating on them, I also find their behavior kind of hard to deal with and not that much fun to play with. This is just my general gripe with a lot of yandere vns, not just Restart Heart in particular, where the MC tends to be very cynical and dislikes doing... well anything, which to me is a touch tedious and kind of annoying at times. I also feel like from the four day version, they feel a lot more bitter and angry (again due to the break up) but also coddled very heavily as well. Understandably it is nice to have someone who is able to care about you and try to make things feel better when everything feels like it's falling apart, but to me it still feels very infantalizing in some aspects, with every character seemingly trying to nurse Sugar back to feeling better. It's likely more of a me thing since I've always been the type of person to drag myself back up by my feet, rather than attempt to rely too much on other people. In the new demo, Sugar has yet to experience this (at least from what I can tell) so is generally more stable and less prickly. I don't think it's particularly Mary Sue like in the new demo, considering that I feel like if my friend almost got crushed by a bunch of staplers, we'd all run over there too and make sure that they're okay, though I can see where you're coming from since most of the characters are revolving around Sugar in that sort of way. It's hard to say what kind of characters the Restart Heart gang will be considering that it is still a demo, but considering it did have four days already out, I can see what you mean. We don't get to see too much into their lives (outside of Blaire, I think which probably has the most characterization out of Chris and of course Ezra). It would be nice for them to do other things as well like go out on dates or just hang out more one on one (like going to hang out at the library with Sammy, for instance) to get to know them a bit more.

Interesting take on it. I did notice that Bess uses a lot of Arabic phrases, kind of like someone who is trying to learn the language and is attempting to use it in their every day life so that they can remember it. I don't think that specifically was the intention, but it did come off like that for me. I'm not really sure what you mean by "overtly trans or use their ethnicity as a base for their personality", do you mean as more of like that's their main personality trait? A very minor confusion I have with the game is the use of pronouns that are attached onto the characters. That in itself isn't really a problem but it does seem a touch redundant because there is a character bio for all of the characters that already has the pronouns on it. Not anything huge, but it is a strange decision to make. The checkins for nsfw content is generally a thing that happens in a lot of r18 yandere vns, but I do get that it does feel very babysitting like, especially if it's something that happens after the initial agreement.

I do agree that the writing has improved a lot more, with the characters written in a more lifelike manner and feels more like they have known Sugar for a while. I also agree that it's nice that they have more stronger connections to Sugar this time around. I think the music is good, though I do wish that they would change it up more since the same soundtrack repeated does make it a bit tiring (though this is likely just a demo thing). Lilith did a good job of coding everything as expected, especially with the pronoun, name, partner, nickname choices in the very beginning. There is a lot of variation for people who want to be called a specific way during the NSFW parts (though admittedly I don't really like most of them since well, I prefer submissive yanderes). They are doing a lot of projects right now, so it is hard to say when the full version will come out and what the quality will be right now. Hopefully it will come out well though, and there will be more yandere content that I can shift through.

#Restart heart #male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #asks

[elizaleclerc]

HI MY LOVEEEE

first off all I'd like to say i love your work so much, can you do a max x reader where she's griend with carlos gf alex, max's just like freshly broke up and reader has like the biggest fattest crush on him and i trust you to end this fic in anyway you'd like

hello gorgeous (i see ur typo dw love), i'm combining this request with another one i got (the lovely anon that sent one about watching reader perform at a recital). tweaking these ideas a little and instead of it being reader im making it a fem oc AND turning it into a series!! absolutely stoked ab this idea and hope you both love it <3

the dying swan 🩰

(part one)

max verstappen x female original character

summary: as ballerina madeline moreau prepares her final dance as a bachelor's student, her good friend charles invites her to her first grand prix in monaco, where she sparks up a relationship with her crush max.

song: le cygne by saint-saëns

author's note: haven’t written a fic with a fem oc on here so im a little nervy. i adore this concept so i hope u like it too :,) this will have multiple parts (not sure how many yet), so stay tuned! xoxo 

word count: 2.3k

As Madeline Moreau prepared for her final performance towards earning her Bachelor's in performing arts, she carefully laced the ribbons of her ballet shoes around her ankles. The soft pink fabric contrasted against her pale skin, adding to the ethereal quality of the dance she was about to perform. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the studio and began the grueling practice session for "The Dying Swan". This solo dance was known to be one of the most challenging variations, but Madeline had purposefully chosen it as her final piece. Ballet had been her life since she was a young child, and completing a Bachelor's degree in this intense passion meant everything to her. As she gracefully moved across the studio floor, every stretch and turn was executed with precision and emotion, conveying the story of a swan's final moments beautifully through movement and music.

Her heart's deepest desires yearned for her to dance under the sparkling lights of the Paris Opera Ballet. Growing up in the enchanting country of France, she would often sit in front of her television, mesmerized by the grace and agility of the ballerinas on stage. She imagined herself twirling and leaping alongside them, a part of the grandeur and beauty that captivated her every time.

Already she had scouts eyeing her for various ballet companies through France, companies that would bring her massive attention and fame in the dancing world. She could already imagine the opportunities waiting for her in her home country, the chance to dance on grand stages and gain worldwide recognition. As she began her first practice that morning, thoughts of fame and success swirled through her mind like ribbons caught in a gentle breeze. Each stretch and exercise was calculated, each muscle carefully worked as she prepared for the challenging routine ahead. Her ankles, strong and supple, were crucial to executing the entire dance en pointe, with grace and precision that would captivate audiences. This was her passion, her art, and she was determined to master every aspect of it.

Madeline's body moved gracefully to the familiar notes of her favorite dance theme. As she moved across the studio floor, she couldn't help but feel a bittersweet ache in her heart. This was her final performance as a student ballerina, and just as the swan dies in the dance, she too would soon be bidding farewell to her youth as a performer. But with each precise movement of her arms and each delicate arch of her feet, she knew that something new and beautiful would be born from this ending - a career as a professional dancer. And as she gracefully folded her arms into her torso, it felt as though she was shedding an old skin and emerging anew, like a majestic swan taking flight once again.

With each graceful, extended step, Madeline could feel her ankles straining and trembling beneath her. The pain was excruciating, but she refused to let it show as she balanced delicately on her toes, emulating the movements of a dying swan. Her muscles burned with exhaustion, but she pushed through, determined to make every motion appear effortless and fluid.

Despite the countless blisters that formed on her feet, Madeline never uttered a complaint. She understood that to achieve true beauty and grace in her performance, she had to push her body to its physical limits. It was a constant battle between mind and body, but for Madeline, the end result was always worth the pain.

She glided through the four-minute variation with determination, her movements precise and fluid. Her instructor stood in the corner, arms crossed and a stern expression on their face. With each mistake, they scolded Madeline, pointing out every tiny detail that was not up to par. And with each correction, Madeline cursed herself for not being perfect.

As a ballerina, she had learned to be a perfectionist under the constant pressure of her instructors. But unlike others, Madeline placed all the weight of expectation on her own shoulders. She believed that this self-imposed scrutiny and criticism would propel her straight to the Paris Opera Ballet company. As she finished her routine, sweat glistening on her brow, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be good enough for her own standards.

After what felt like an eternity, she hung her head in defeat as the day came to a close. Learning the variation had not been the biggest challenge - it had come naturally to her - but the hours of repetition and inevitable mistakes had left her confidence bruised and battered. As she wearily made her way out of the studio and back to her small apartment, she couldn't help but wince at the painful blisters forming on her toes, a tell-tale sign of her dedication and determination to perfecting her craft.

She took her hair down out of her bun and drew herself a warm bath to ease the aching of her muscles. Just as she tilted her head back and closed her eyes in relaxation, she felt the vibration of her phone on the side of the tub.

She dried off her hands and answered the phone call, “Salut, Charles.” Her good friend Charles Leclerc spoke on the other side of the phone, asking her how she’s been and what progress she’d made on her dance. She updated him on her failures of the day, and as he had plenty of times before, he told her she was being entirely too hard on herself.

“I wanted to extend an invite to you.” His voice echoed through the phone’s speaker.

“Yes?” She urged him on.

“How would you feel about finally coming to see us race in Monaco?” He was met with silence.

“I dunno Char,” Madeline sighed, considering the opportunity. The Monaco Grand Prix was a few weeks away, and she knew how busy she would be working on her variation, and how much more progress she had to make in perfecting it.

“Cmon, it would be loads of fun.” He persisted, but yet she hesitated still. The Formula One crowd was widly different than the dance crowd she was used to. Her and Charles crossed paths several times through their youth, over time becoming closer and closer. Charles knew that Madeline was a fairly timid girl, and therefore might feel uncomfortable around the loud cars and adrenaline filled atmosphere. Madeline’s spirit was much more peaceful and slow, her entire aura radiating the serenity and calmness of ballet.

“I’ll think about it.” She finally answered, but that didn’t satisfy him.

“Every time you say that you always end up saying no.” He argued, further putting Madeline in a difficult position. “You know Max will be there.” He joked, which made her roll her eyes over the phone.

“Very funny.” Her sarcastic remark caused Charles to chuckle. He always liked to say that Madeline had a major crush on Max, but she had never even met him. Her own nerves prohibited her from reaching out. The fact that Max would be racing in Monaco and Madeline could potentially meet him almost made her more resistant to go. “Who would I be staying with?”

“During the race you could stay up in the balcony with my family and friends. Alex will be there as well. You’d be in good company, Madeline.” Charles was making a good argument. Madeline adored Charles’s girlfriend, Alexandra, as she was a lover of the arts and always made sure to adorn Madeline in compliments over her dancing skills.

“Fine, I’ll be there.” Madeline gave in, finally feeling excited with the possibility of it all. She could hear Charles’s cheers in the background.

As they ended the phone call, she took a deep breath. Charles' words lingered in her mind, causing her to question her actions. He was right, of course, to tease her about seeing Max. After all, he had been her long-time crush since his impressive debut on the Formula One track. Despite the passing years and numerous offers from Charles to introduce them, Madeline had always managed to avoid meeting Max. But as her fame as a ballerina grew in France, fans began to speculate about her connection with the much more renowned Charles Leclerc.

The media had never bothered to inquire about her, yet Madeline's rise in popularity could be attributed to the relentless efforts of Charles and Alex, who took every opportunity to mention her name. As she walked through public spaces, Madeline's cheeks would flush with a mixture of shyness and discomfort, still unaccustomed to the attention that came with being associated with a famous Formula One driver. But deep down she knew that fame and recognition within the ballet world were her ultimate goals. She yearned to see her name among the ranks of the greats, and she understood that this would require adjusting to constant public scrutiny and attention.

The water in Madeline's bath slowly grew colder, but she hardly noticed as she scrolled through Instagram. With steady hands, she searched for Max's name in her following list. His profile appeared on her screen, his handsome face and perfectly curated photos drawing her in. She spent time studying each picture, taking in the details of his life that she had been missing out on. Where there used to be images of him and his girlfriend, now there were only solo shots of him posing with trophies and accolades, a clear indication to his millions of followers that they had split up. A small smile tugged at Madeline's lips, the realization that he was single igniting a spark of hope within her. But deep down, she knew that even with this new opportunity, she may not have the courage to approach him. The thought left her feeling both exhilarated and defeated all at once.

~

A dull, persistent ache nagged at Madeline's muscles as she trudged into the dance studio the next day. But her mind was not occupied with thoughts of rest or recovery; instead, it was consumed by thoughts of Max. She hated herself for feeling this way. For so long, her focus had been solely on dance, unable to entertain any distractions or desires for a romantic relationship.

But now, as she danced to prophetic love ballads and hopeless romantic variations, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to experience the type of love she often portrayed in her performances. With every step and turn, she poured all her energy into keeping her mind focused on the theme of her current variation: the dying swan. Her arms moved gracefully, mimicking the delicate movements of the bird's wings, while her fingers flicked with precision and emotion. As much as she tried to push him out of her mind, Max's image lingered in the corners of her thoughts, tainting even her most effortless movements with a bittersweet longing.

Under the watchful eye of her instructor, Madeline pushed herself to her limits, determined to improve. She gritted her teeth and forced herself through each step of the variation, her feet aching and screaming in protest. But she refused to give up or show any sign of weakness. After completing another round, she could see the concern in her instructor's eyes. "Madeline, take a moment to catch your breath. You're only on your second day, I don't want you to overdo it and injure yourself." Madeline tried to regulate her breathing and calm her racing heart. Sweat dripped down her face, mingling with the tears of pain and determination. But she knew that she had to keep going, pushing herself harder than ever before in pursuit of perfection.

She huffed and finally sat down on the chilled floor. “I don’t care, I need to be perfect or nothing.”

“That attitude will not make you ‘perfect’, you fool,” the instructor scolded, “there is no such thing as perfect. Your body needs rest. An audience can see clear as day the difference between a healthy and strong dancer and one that is barely hanging on to each movement.”

Madeline's body trembled with exhaustion as she hung her head low, trying to hide her overwhelming disappointment. The instructor's angry voice still echoed in the room, adding to the throb of pain in her feet and the twitches in her muscles. She tried to soak in their words, but her mind was foggy from the grueling practices she endured every day. Yet, she convinced herself that these struggles were just part of the ballet world. After all, the ballerinas in the most prestigious companies had gone through much worse. Madeline believed that she simply wasn't strong enough yet.

In the solitude of the studio, she pushed her body through the variation one final time. As her muscles trembled and her legs threatened to give out with every move, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the large mirror in front of her. She watched as her shaking limbs seemed to amplify the dying and fatal motions of the swan, transforming the dance into a display of intense urgency and desperation.

Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, proof of her physical exertion. But it was the reflection in the glass that truly captured her attention. Despite the beautiful lines of her facial features, there was a hint of anguish and exhaustion in her expression. Like the dying swan she portrayed, her spirit and morale were crumbling under the weight of this performance.

part two coming soon where madeline and max actually meet! this part was rlly just a lottt of exposition :) x

#formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fic #charles leclerc #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x female oc #max verstappen x fem oc

[ren-from-mars]

Hey. You know how Matt said the fairy queen would have cricket legs and wings and multiple arms. Yeah that hasn’t left my mind

#I knowww he said six arms. I couldn’t figure out how to pose that without going insane #and ofc this is just a concept I thought up #since we know a whole lot of nothing about the final looks because. Yknow. it’s all screen testing still. #but I have so much love in my heart for these concepts #cinderella's castle #cinderellas castle #starkid #kim whalen #the fairy queen of sweet dreams #art #my art #artists on tumblr #ren from mars #creativity on mars

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

#u both catch a cold the next day <33 #anyway i am normal about the devotion of a loyal knight paired w the devotion of a man who’s only ever loved one single person in his life #shoutout to knight x royalty dynamics for inventing romance #i wanted to get a good balance on prince!gojo’s twisted side and soft side so i hope i did ok!! :’3 #hes a kind man at heart he rly is but i think being born at the peak of the class pyramid does smth to a person lmao #i didn't touch on it in the fic but he would have turned out a lotttt more twisted if he hadnt met reader as a child … #what if i was ur knight..;;; and u were my prince….;;;;; and we changed the trajectory of each other’s lives 😳😳 👉👈 #mickey if u see this!!! tysm for letting me write abt this concept i had so much fun!!! this fic is for u <33 #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen

[shima-draws]

One Piece where everything’s the same except Cora doesn’t die but Law’s still determined to absolutely beat the shit out of Doflamingo anyway. Cut to post Dressrosa where Law gets a VERY frantic phone call from Cora who’s like what the actual FUCK I saw the newspaper this morning you went up against Doffy all by yourself?? You promised me we would do this together you little SHIT do you have any idea how fucking scared out of my MIND I was when I saw the headline and I thought something happened to you, Law I swear to god, and Law’s like yes Cora I went up against him by myself, like HELL I was going to let him lay a single finger on you. And Cora’s like THAT’S MY LINE!!! You’re MY kid and I should be the one protecting YOU!! And Law’s like what with your shitty devil fruit powers? What could you have done? You would have fallen on your ass and gotten hurt or shot or worse and I’d be too fucking worried about you to focus on anything else. And Cora’s like this conversation is NOT over but I’m so so glad you’re okay. And he starts crying and he’s like oh my GOD Law you know how insane Doffy is I could have lost you. And I wouldn’t have even known until after the fact. And Law goes all quiet and he’s like I know I’m sorry but I could have lost YOU and I couldn’t handle that. I couldn’t. And Cora’s sobbing and he’s like I love you so much Law and Law’s like yeah. I love you too 🥺

Meanwhile the Strawhats witnessed this entire conversation and they’re like. Wow okay that was a lot to unpack. Law’s got a dad and they’re very protective of each other and apparently his dad is Doflamingo’s brother?? And Law literally dismantled Doflamingo’s entire criminal organization and DIDN’T bother telling his dad about it?? No wonder he’s pissed. And they’re also like awwwww we’ve never seen Law so soft and vulnerable before 💕 and Law looks at them and he’s like. You repeat ANY of what you just heard and I WILL kill you. And they’re like ‘Mhmm okay yup we hear you loud and clear. Btw what’s your dad like’ with the BIGGEST shit eating grins and Law’s like Okay! Killing you now!! And proceeds to chase them with his katana

#Sorry I just wrote an entire fic on my post. Coughs anyway #Law keeping Cora in the dark about taking down Doflamingo is SUCH a funny concept to me #Bc well. It’s CORA’S brother. If anybody should take him down it would be him yeha #*yeah #But nope Law’s also an overprotective little shit so he’s like I’m going to do this and NOT tell Cora about it. #And when Cora sees the newspaper he proceeds to have a heart attack #Cora: WHAT THE ACTUAL F U C K #Cora: IS MY KID OKAY. #Robin: It’s lovely that you have a father that cares for you so much Torao-kun ^^ #Law blushing furiously: Not another WORD Nico-ya #Meanwhile Cora is hopping on a boat and BOOKING it to Dressrosa #Cora: HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON #Luffy: Hehe your dad’s funny Torao! I like him ^^ #Cora: Is that your boyfriend #Law: NO?????? #OKAY I’M SORRY I’LL STOP LMAO #One Piece #Corazon #Trafalgar Law #Donquixote Rocinante #Shima speaks

[averlym]

litany of the martyrs (click for better resolution!)

#at some point i wanted to make an illustration for each character but in retrospect maybe each is multiple song-coded.. #drew the sketch for a quincy thing after a chat with a mutual reminded me this song existed dfsghjkl and then spent weeks rendering this #quincy cynthius martin #adamandi #i'm finally done with this! the saints especially were joys to paint and the halo a menace.... this has been the most ambitious one so far. #but it also took quite long because i only worked on it <engages with quincy> when mentally okay to deal with the themes. i'm not religious #but i do identify with the irrational(?ish) guilt + family legacy + academic achievement + disregard for self. also more complex thoughts #about love [but depsite quincent being a large part of quincy's character this piece deals with mostly the Rest of it. so another time..] #anyways! in the original sketch- the saints had heads bent towards quincy so the halo spikes pointed at him. but this worked better! halos #of the saints implying/creating one for quincy was a concept from the start though. in the show they don't touch him directly here but #differences in mediums i think- i don't have time in an image to craft a narrative so everything has to be happening. also artistic liberty #misc inspiration for this includes stained glass windows. i might have maybe misinterpreted the saint costume but i think i logic-ed it out #as the cloth part following a nun's habit w the hood. and then halo above. the material is also more transparent originally but i had. um. #too much fun painting fabric folds.. if you look closely you can see the basis of faces though behind the cloth; but only the vague shapes #because smth obscurity + inhumanness// cassian is the only one i gave a mouth though. that stems from melliot's post about the saints and #st cassian as spokesperson (<- did research teehee!) that's also how i found out which costume = which saint. speaking of which. #left to right: 'st lucy take my hand' // 'st lawrence give me strength' (presses quincy forward; but hand on shoulder connotates guidance) #/'st cassian help me smile' (quincy's mouth is btwn a grimace and a smile; tilts up at side. also no direct touch bc added insidiousness.) #//'st jude [...] i hope your causes burn' (jude's hand is in two places to show movement- nearing the flame and then snatching back; burnt) #other notes: at the midst of the flame the core is shaped like a human heart /the saints and their wax are all melting like the candle for #fun visual effect and also this way they are even less tangible <real>. perks of painting as a medium i guess. // also insp from icarus? #wax and burning imagery; looking at the halo and rays as parallel to sun that burns. too close to the sun; melting; hurting; hurtling // #candles at bottom are a nod to the frankly gorgeous set// also the entire composition kind of stems from the lyric <what use is a candle if #both ends aren't burning>; the two sides between the concepts of catholic guilt and academic perfection that spur quincy #the halo above (saints and guilt; litanyofthemartyrs) and the 'halo' below (academic papers; insp from choreo for perfect at school) #the papers were originally supposed to be more glowy. but i like the idea of it now being a reflection of how quincy's priorities shift #also of note is that <candle> in centre = quincy; w burning candle + aforementioned heart in flame -> most human; idea of love + passion #last thoughts: kneeling + hands close tgt = prayer //wax dripping onto the red As make an effect that looks like blood. because i like #hiding that within the adamandi pieces :OO continuity!! // i've run out of tags but yeah! had fun with this one! every so often i go a #little insane in making art and the final result astounds even me. ngl i'm quite proud of this one. pretty colours <3333

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

oh my god oh my god oh my GODDDDDD i can’t BELIEVE i found these on my little rainy october thrift shop wander this morning. like, one would have been more MORE enough. but both?? at once??? i am quite simply floating and may never touch back down to earth

#obviously given that it was second hand i don’t know if alex’s autograph is legit #but from my (untrained and overly hopeful) eye it looks very much like it could be??? #anyone who’s more expert in these things feel free to weigh in!! #and the photo book #aghhhhhhhhh #i have been wanting to get my hands on a copy for AGES #there’s something so special and atmospheric about matt’s photography that i’m just obsessed with #and to be able to actually look at them in physicality all together like that is truly something else #i also love that it’s designed like a passport obviously because of the whole album concept #but also because it truly does feel like a little glimpse into their world when they were making it #god what am i meant to do with the rest of my day after this??? 😭 #(put the humbug album on and look through the photo book of course. and maybe even a little fic writing if my heart rate slows enough) #god bless whoever donated these and whatever luck allowed me to find them today 💜💜💜 #i was in need of a bit of a pick me up and by god did this go above and beyond #sorry for how nonsensical all of this has probably been #i’m just #i’m feeling a lot rn 😭 #arctic monkeys #alex turner #lulu posts

[game-cube]

Its been far to long since ive drawn my wife

#my art #da #dragon age #dragon age 2 #merrill #da merrill #merrill da #warm up since i was describing the games to my friend and i realized how much i missed my wife #i fucking love her man #also a lot of the concept art has her having black instead of eye whites and in my heart thats still there #ive never posted much da art so idk the tags lol

[cerise-on-top]

Hiiii how are you?? Id like to request farah finds out reader is ticklish and uses it agenist them when reader is in a bad mood and being rude to everyone

(Sorry if this is really silly btw🫶🏻🫶🏻)

Hey! I'm doing well! Got a surge of motivation to write before therapy! This ask was just the right amount of silly actually! It was very fun to write!

Cheer Up Tickles with Farah

She’d likely find out when she wraps an arm around your waist and her fingers twitch a bit for a moment, making you react a little bit. Unfortunately, she’d pick up on that immediately, raise her eyebrow and give you a knowing smile. It’s a slightly cocky one as well, because she knows your weakness now, so if she ever felt like it, she could destroy you. Farah might poke you from time to time, but it usually won’t go farther than that. However, if you’re being especially grumpy for no reason whatsoever and you’re being rude to everyone, that might change.

At first she’d just poke your side, gauge your reaction. You can cuss her out all you want, she’s not going to let up just yet. It’s then that you can either cheer up and apologize to her, or feel her wrath and tickles. However, given your ask, you don’t cheer up, instead noticing, with horror in your eyes, that you messed up. Farah would wiggle her fingers at you before pouncing like a tiger that got its first prey in three days. Although she may go easy on you at first, letting you struggle so you feel as though you have a chance of getting away, there’s no way she’d just let you go like that. You can squirm all you want, you’re trapped underneath her since she’s a very strong fighter. You’re not going to escape her grasp, you’re going to get tickled and teased to oblivion and back. Once you’re calm, she’d start teasing you a bit before going in for the kill.

Farah wouldn’t even hesitate to be gentle in the beginning, she’s gonna get you good from the get go, straddling you and squeezing your sides. Try to throw her off all you want, you can’t. It’s fun to her if you struggle a bit as well, it makes it all the more challenging for her. While she may not know just yet where your weak spots are, she’ll find them quickly enough, staying in one spot for a few moments before switching to your armpits, for example. If you trap her fingers there she’s gonna have a field trip. No matter how much you’re laughing at that point, she’ll tease you about being less grumpy already and how you’re smiling like a goof. How adorable you are and how she should just tickle you more often when she has the time to do so.

Naturally, she’s a leader, so she needs to make sure all her loved ones are doing well, therefore she needs to check up on your ribs as well. Counts them, prods at them, vibrates her fingers between them to make sure you haven’t sustained any injuries. If you’re completely healthy, then she’ll say so, but she also needs to make sure your tummy is in good condition. Lifts up your shirt and starts scribbling away to make sure everything is in order. However, as time goes on, she’d grow a bit hungry and nibble at your sides and your ribs as well. Besides, while she may need to be sated, she also wants to share something delicious with you as well. So naturally, kind as she is, she gives you some raspberries.

However, once she notices your laughter having gone silent, or when there are a lot of tears streaming down your face, that’s when she’ll slow down a bit, before stopping entirely. Your dazed, cute face is just too adorable, though, so she’ll lean over to give you a kiss on your forehead and wipe away your tears with her thumb. Once she sees that you’ve been cheered up, she’ll get off of you, put your shirt over your tummy again and laugh a bit about how tired you seem all of a sudden. You weren’t this tired yet when you were cussing her out still. Pats your tummy one last time and helps you up, even if you don’t need her help. You seem out of it a bit, but not unhappy.

Farah doesn’t mind having tickle fights with you every once in a while. However, be warned, if you ever decide to tickle her first, then I can assure you that she’s going to get her revenge. Besides, she can hold her reactions in quite well. Much to your dismay, she’s also rather observant, so she’s going to figure out which spots make you scream fairly quickly. She’s always so serious anyway, so sometimes you just need to let loose and be a little goofy. Loves getting to be silly with you from time to time, even if it’s just through play fighting and tickling one another.

#cod #cod x reader #farah karim #farah karim x reader #tickling is such a fun concept to me. you get to make someone laugh just by touching them gently #you get to goof around with them and playfully fight them. it's absolutely adorable. but I know many people disagree with me on that one #still Farah as a ler would be a little menace as fun as it would be #I do think about the characters as lers more often than I would like to admit in all honesty. it's just so fun and sweet #besides just goofing around with Farah sounds like a dream to me #getting to be silly and stupid over essentially nothing is fun I wish she was real so I could fight her a bit #but alas #still I get to write about her having a good time and that's what's important! no angst in sight baby!!! just silly!! #I love writing silly and fluff! my favorite genres! I can vibe to that since it doesn't break my heart! #but now I'm off to therapy so I can't write too much in the tags! #thank you for the ask it was really fun! have a nice day anon!

[robindaydream]

He's catching me up on the characters and story arcs

artfight attack of Ugly Finder (featuring Daydream) for @bananasmores

#artfight #mlp #oc pony #one of my favorite things I drew this year both for artistic and sentimental reasons #the concept of this one is he's telling me all about baseball cause I don't follow sports #we're catching a game in Horseton #I'm learning so much! #(I actually have been to several baseball games in real life) #(my dad is a huge Angels fan and he took us to games sometimes when I was a kid) #(but it was a long time ago haha) #(I have fond memories of nachos and of these huge moths that seemed to congregate at the stadium) #ANYWAY I spent more time on this one than on anything else I drew this year #cause I wanted to have a whole crowd of ponies watching the game with us #appleshy is there of course cause we both love them #the guy next to us with the heart cutie mark thinks the purple guy in front of him is really pretty #someone is having a little too much to drink #the kids in the front are really excited about a cool play that just happened #they are making a big mess with peanuts #the Manehattan fan in the lower left is wondering if he should leave early #art

[hum--hallelujah]

honestly if I were ever to throw the Suitehearts into any of my Killjoys stuff the dynamic would literally be the stupidest thing in the world. you do not want to have the Four and those guys together in any setting. it's a recipe for disaster. Jet and Benzedrine bitch and bicker like old ladies. telepathic warfare is waged via a complex language of glares and eyebrow movements between everyone in the room. Sandman makes a wholeheartedly joking comment to Ghoul like "I want to study you in a lab" and Kobra Kid gives him a black eye on the spot. Crab and Donnie end up playing hide n seek with the Girl until someone else who isn't aware of the game accidentally dumps a whole dude out of their hiding spot on accident and then gets elbowed for it. everyone hates each other but they're also kind of pals in the way that people who occasionally help each other out but don't see each other outside of that can be. that kind of thing

#they're SOOO insane everyone hates each other but they're also bros. do you get me? #I have a couple random fic concepts where they have to help each other out and Jet literally has to mediate so much bs #like we do not have sandkid in this house. those two are trying to maim or murder each other at all times. #I feel like there's times that one or both of them has to be physically restrained. #party loves em. hates all of their guts but loves em. #IDK MAN the mental image of sandman making a dumb comment to ghoul bc he just. jokes around like an idiot as his default #and kobra just instantly sucker punching him for it... vivid mental images fr #I also think in my universe the 'hearts are a traveling circus (in that they're all frickin clowns lol) and just go wherever they're needed #as far as the idea that benzedrine is like A Doctor yknow? bc I am in fact taking that angle #he was like a resident med student in the city and crap went down and made him a little bit off his rocker and he ran for the Zones #and sandman was born out there and just. found this odd new guy intriguing. #donnie and crab are related in some way. crab is mute (nobody knows if it's selectively or for physical reasons). donnie #is kinda the brawn of the group. he will physically restrain any of the others if they're getting out of hand. it's wild #she speaks! #danger days

[prettyboykatsuki]

i have many many many critiques about wylls story, most of them being about the fact it's just so lackluster in game when compared to other companions which is a shame. because wyll to me is and has the potential to be an even more emotionally compelling companion. and he was early access!! he was so gritty in ea please bring him back larian i beg of thee. the way he was rewritten has stripped him of so much nuance and depth. wyll to me is such a wonderful character to me because of what he represents, which is heroism so down to his core he never gives up on it even when he ought to

his goodwill and nobility are ceaseless. at the center of his story is betrayal trauma, his agency over himself vanished into thin air. mizora turns him into a monster and there is no turning back. he has become the thing he's despised, the things he's hunted for his entire life. and we know so little about that canonically because of the way his story is set up but its hinted time and time again that he struggles with his reality deeply and even that cannot make him turn away from the city he loves so much.

if larian would go back to clean up and fix his story (which im truly praying to god they do) i want them to touch on what wyll must be going through as he continues to try to ground himself and deal with his newfound reality. i want them to touch on the abandonment he experiences because of his father and the inevitable burden his title as blade and hero has on him. because these things obviously compel him, they're hinted at all the time but they were completely stripped of him in final release and its fucking disheartening... larian please im begging you. thats the love of my life. please.

but for now i will do it with fanfiction and gather enough wyll fans to make a fuss about it . peace and love

#aristotle.txt #wyll ravengard #bg3 #i love wyll so desperately. which makes sense as a deku lover certainly. #but i love him even more because his story is narratively interesting #here is a classically heroic noble making a devils pact to save his city #who is only rewarded for doing this by being banished from the city hes sworn to protect. by his father no less. #he spends seven years away from home and makes a name for himself as a fucking folk hero #he never returns. he doesn't explain himself. he decides that the least he can do is give his life to the sword coast #and then wyll meets karlach. a devil hes supposed to kill except shes not #and because wyll is wyll and because what matters to him most are his beliefs he is easily convinced to not kill karlach. he doesnt want to #kill karlach. so he doesn't. and he pays the price for it. his entire existence is uprooted and he is turned permanently into a partial #devil #hes become his own prey. he spends the game clearly sorrowful in the mourning process. and the game just refuses to touch on this set up #as a WRITER it boggles my mind why wyll does not get that attention from larian because the concept of a hero balancing the weight of his #own pain and sorrow against his beliefs is moving. being able to open up that path with tav narratively that allows wyll to be #selfish and heartbroken. to not be blade or sword. just wyll. what a beautifully interesting storyline would that have made #i have delusion in my heart. i hope they fix it. i want them to fix it so badly because i fucking adore wyll in every way. #and i want the game to represent who he is as much as i feel for him. he is an origin companion and deserves it. #bg3 spoilers

[wabblebees]

just finished the new fantasy high episode and havent seen anyone talk abt this so i wanted to say i am 100. one HUNDRED PERCENT sure. that fuckin fourdogs was at that party invisibly (the One And Only buttfucker to NOT make an obvious appearance?? rules-follower or no, i dont believe that for a SECOND) and that she stole the piece of the cloud runner that went missing, and that the moment of her swipe was the "something" riz missed on his check -- i also really *hope* it wasn't oisin that made those damn ice mephits (or "muffets" as my beloved drunk adaine christened them lmao) act up like that, but immmmm pretty sure thats exactly what was goin on since it wouldve given his party member advantage/an easier access point :/

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #fhjy spoilers #listen i was oisin to be good & real & nice SO BAD. HOT RIPPED TATTED DRAGONBORN WIZARD ??? PLEASE #but. im also a suspicious-ass bitch lmao #also wait ik they spelled his name without the accent on his character art #but doesnt the name oisin have an accent over one of the i's?? idk jack abt shit so i could be wrong ofc #in any case. i like the concepts behhind the ratfuckers as a party (*except buddy. seeing him made me feel fucking ILL lmao.) but #i neeeeeeed them to get fucking TROUNCED by the bad kids. i NEED it. theyd be so much more tolerable if they got briefly asswhooped #like i think after that they could TOTALLY be friends and work together. before that?? FUCK no lmfao #anyway. i love-hate fishykitty whatserbucket and i need to see her lose #i cant wait for the ratgrinders to meet the unstoppable force that is the bad kids bigass hearts #deciding to team up with local shitheads & therefore turning them into op allies by sheer force of will and love #its happened to ragh its happened to aelwyn it kiiinda happened with kalina (jury's still out but my fingers are crossed!!) #spring break i believe in them!!! #bee speaks #its happening yall. i try to keep my incomprehensible blorboposting to a dull roar but now that im fully caught up on d20 i fear i may start #going full pepe silvia trying to figure this out #i cant binge it all in one go and have it rot thru my brain like slow-eating acid to leak thru in a contained matter #waiting for a new episode every week means i have time to THINK