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applepieshy · 2 days

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I had an idea to redesign vox because I didn't love that a character obsessed with modernization would wear a top hat and bowtie. then after a brief stint into madness where I read my partner's historic costuming textbook I drew.... all this.

(side note: the idea of vox being a trans man who transitioned AFTER death was super compelling and absolutely inspired by @prince-liest so while this is not direct fanart of their series I wanted to give a shoutout anyway!!!)

okay some TRULY unhinged rambling about historic costume below the cut YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

1950s: for this design I very much did not want to go to the typical a-line housewife look, because I feel that is unfitting for vox's character. instead I went for a more business look, but there is still a level of femininity that he would have been expected to perform. i wanted to express his discomfort with that through the pose and expression, though at the time he wouldn't necessarily have a framework for why he hated it

1960s: this one was very fun. i loved the idea of vox beginning to eschew some of the expected feminine presentation, and he no longer wears makeup, jewelry, or hose (though its hard to tell in black & white); however, he's kind of at war with himself in this time period. he's obsessed with seeming perfect and having a respectable image, so he would not go in for the counter-culture movements that were so big in the 60s. he's still kind of riding those coattails though, pushing those boundaries while still not acknowledging his queerness.

1970s: to me, it was very important that the gender hit as he entered the world in color. in my mind the gender euphoria is physically manifested in a wizard of oz situation - he can become who he always has been. anyway, gender aside, I think it was very important to me personally that he wore an ascot. it was for my mental health.

1980s: I wanted the 1980s to be the period where he began to gain some power and notoriety because of the de-regulation of television during this period to allow more ads, mirroring real-world history. I think if the 70s were when vox gained some real confidence, the 80s are when he got an Ego (tm). "business casual" also began to become more acceptable in this time period, and the t-shirt/suit jacket combo was very important for me to include, as to me it epitomizes the commercialism and machismo of the 80s.

1990s: this was actually the decade I was the most nervous to design, and yet I think it turned out the best? the 90s are known for grunge, which I think is NOT vox's style at all. I decided instead to lean hard into the yuppie look, which I know is more associated with the 80s but was definitely still a thing in the 90s. I also allowed a little hip-hop influence in the form of a gold chain from val, which is not something I think vox would ever pick on his own.

2000s: if the 90s were the decade I was worried about and turned out great, the 2000s are the decade I thought I had down SO GOOD and then totally floundered in execution. I still love the bubble-mac inspired head, and I tried to make his clothes as "round" as possible. I also like that this is the time where his saturation got cranked. however, I don't know if I'm in love with the vest and super bright sneakers, because again, looking back on it, he kind of looks like he works at a movie theater or best buy or some shit lol,,,

2010s: I think it's telling that this is by far the closest to his canon design (2014 tumblr lookin ass). I really wanted to pull from that hipster tech bro era, but unfortunately that aesthetic has a veneration for "retro" which again, is not fitting for vox. I still think he would wear the bowtie during this time because, well... he sure does in the show!

2020s: this was fun because I had an excuse to pull from haute couture design rather than street fashion because of the introduction of velvette into his life. I truly do not think velvette would let vox and val walk around in the outfits that they do because it would be an actual embarrassment LMAO. for this, I wanted his decorative "robes" to be evocative of the time he depicted himself as a priest AND of a cape/robe of an emperor. he does think of himself as that bitch, after all.

#vox #trans vox #vox redesign #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin fanart #my art

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genericpuff · 15 hours

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I AM HOOOMEEEE

and finally decompressed / settled in from the entire ordeal , at least enough to finally get my bearings together and post about it LMAO holy crap, what a wild past two weekends, i'm exhausted but it was a great time, got to meet some great artists, tattoo some great people, and share great art <3 Here are some of my favorites :>

Thank GOD I have this week off from expo's and conventions, I'm definitely ready to chill for a bit. Though I'm definitely cooking up fun community ideas for the LO series finale, so stay tuned for that LOL I do have another convention coming up two weeks from now but it's only a one day thing a couple hours away and it's purely for selling prints n stickers, so it won't be anywhere near as demanding as the 3-day tattoo events LOL

I'll be posting a recompiled version of Episode 50 Pt 2 tomorrow! Sorry to those who were massively inconvenienced by the way I chose to post it, I took a risk and it proved to be a massive failure LMAO but that's how we learn 💅 So expect that tomorrow morning! <3

In the meantime, I'll be getting back to work on Episode 51 as well as responding to as many of the asks in my inbox as I can! Thank you all so much for your patience while I worked through these past two weekends, y'all are the best for that <3

#ask me anything #anon ama #ama #anon ask me anything #lore rekindled #self post #announcement

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altverse-invertverse · 10 hours

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Meeting + Kitty Bath right after

(I can’t draw backgrounds so I “borrowed” these from pinterest and then put a filter over the first two, to make them to make them look like drawings)

AU/Headcanon yapping for this lol ⬇️

Kallamar and Shamura met in their teenage years, living with eachother as close besties who found some random ass crowns along the way. They both shared a cabin on the border of early-day Anura and Darkwoods (there was no distinction between the areas, both areas were relatively the same). They shared a bed because it was comfortable enough for them, and lived an average life.

Now during his 30’s, Kallamar really wanted to take care of a child, even though he wasn’t as capable to carry one himself(intersex, infertile, AND he was single lmao). Shamura didn’t care for children as much, but wanted to see their best friend happy, just didn’t know how.

One day the two were sitting around and playing knucklebones with eachother, when they heard a knock on the door. Shamura got up to answer the door, looking around before glancing down, seeing a young black cat staring back up at them. Shamura was in a state of confusion at first, asking the kit where he came from, only getting a shrug as a response.

It was only a few seconds, before it clicked to Shamura that this child had been abandoned. With no second thoughts, they knew exactly what to do next, as they gently took the child by the hand to offer them a new home. Walking back into the living room, Kallamar had put away the board and dice, asking Shamura who was at the front door. Shamura replied with a simple “Just look for yourself”, as Kallamar gave them a look of confusion, before spotting the child stepping out from behind Shamura, while holding their hand.

Shamura explained to Kallamar the child’s situation, they brought up the idea of taking in the child, as if he were their younger sibling and such. Kallamar became ecstatic, agreeing to the idea almost immediately while going over to hug Shamura tightly, then greeting the little boy.

However, first things first, the kid smelled like trash(despite looking clean), which called for an “emergency” bath. I won’t go into big detail about the rest of that day, but let’s just say that Kalla and the child, nownamed Narinder, had alot fun getting to know each other.

This is literally “revised” lore I made up in my head for two weeks, finally had motivation to draw a bit of it, I just really like seeing interpretations of Narinder and Kallamar. So I thought instead of the usual sibling battles, they started off with a loving caretaker their adopted child type relationship, only becoming more sibling tied once growing up lol

#cult of the lamb #cult of the lamb art #digital art #cotl au #cult of the lamb shamura #cult of the lamb kallamar #cult of the lamb narinder #tiny narinder #bby.. bby boy Nari..#cotl shamura #cotl kallamar #cotl narinder #artwork #my art

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moni-logues · 2 days

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Deer Tracks

Pairing: Namjoon x f. reader (Suri); A Fine Line couple

Genre: slice of life? a little angst a little fluff? established relationship

Summary:

Beautiful, sobbing high-geared fucking and then to lie silently like deer tracks in the freshly-fallen snow beside the one you love. That's all. (Deer Tracks, by Richard Brautigan)

Word count: 3.2k

Content: implicit smut (piv), that's really it tbh

A/N: Anon, this is for yoooooouuuu! And for anyone else who loves the AFL couple like I do lol my first babies, my special little creatures haha. I have genuinely had this bonus chapter/drabble/whatever you want to call it in mind since I finished writing the series. I have thought of it SO often and, truthfully, never got to the end, never quite figured out in my head how I was going to pull it together. But I'm happy with what I did and I hope you are too!!! Also shout out to sunny for finding this poem for me when I couldn't months and months ago.

*~*

You lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling, legs swishing idly against the sheets, as if making snow angels out of them, but only the bottom half. And there was no snow. And you weren’t having fun. Sleep wouldn’t come. You had learnt that. It wouldn’t come until the smallest hours of the morning, when exhaustion finally gripped you and pulled you under. Then you would wake a few hours later, unrested, and do it all again.

It was self-inflicted. You knew that, too. You knew that you were doing this to yourself. You were sleeping in your own bed. Namjoon slept next door. You didn’t have to wonder if he was asleep because you could faintly make out the sound of his snoring even through the wall.

Things weren’t going well and you weren’t dealing with it. You were making it Namjoon’s problem, making yourself Namjoon’s problem. He knew it was happening. You knew it was happening. He didn’t have the power to stop you. You didn’t think you did, either. Even though you wanted to. You could feel all your worst instincts clawing at you, invisible hands crawling over the edge of the bed to pull you apart, pull your life apart. You wanted to resist them and you wanted them to devour you, both at the same time.

You loved him. You were in love with him. That was the problem. That was the thing that kept you up at night. The anxiety of it screamed at you and, sometimes, you could block it out; sometimes, he would kiss you and you would melt into him and everything felt golden; other times, more often recently, he would kiss you and you’d feel sick. Sick because you wanted to escape. Sick because you wanted him to stop seeing you. Sick because you loved him. Sick because he made you happier than you thought you would ever be again. Sick because it all terrified you.

So you pulled away. You pulled yourself back into your shell, set up spikes around it, were erratic and irrational about who got access to you and when.

You were sleeping in your own bed.

Namjoon had, weeks ago now, planned a sweet winter getaway. Just a long weekend. There was astronomical stuff happening: a big moon, some meteors, something that he would tell you about as you sat, breath puffing in front of you, huddled together outside a cabin, looking at it all. He had said you wouldn’t be able to see it well in the city; he was going to book somewhere remote, where the sky would be dark and clear. You had wondered why it mattered so much but matter it did, to Namjoon, so you had agreed, looked forward to it.

Until you had realised you loved him. Until he had come home one day, late and tired, and a choir had started singing in your heart. There had been nothing special about that day, not at all, but you had looked at him and he had smiled at you—crinkly-eyed and deep-dimpled—and something inside you had bloomed. It was love. It was horror.

You wanted him to cancel. To say, ok this is a bad idea, let’s not go and spend 72 hours in each other’s company with no escape and nowhere else to go. Because you wouldn’t say it but you didn’t want to go. You were fighting with yourself not to run, not to scarper, not to dig yourself a hole in the ground and live there instead. You could convince yourself you were coping while you had work to distract you with (and Namjoon had his work, too). But a weekend in the country? You wouldn’t be able to get away from it if you couldn’t get away from him.

There was a slightly tentative knock at the door.

“Yeah?” you called.

Namjoon poked his head around.

“I know we talked about heading up a little later but they’re forecasting snow so I think we should get an earlier train, is that ok?”

No.

“What time is that?”

“Probably around 9.”

“Ok.”

He nodded, hesitated at the door for a second, then nodded again, leaving you to it. You felt sick again. Terrified. Half of you wanted to run out to him, to tell him to please never, ever let you go. Half of you wanted to run.

The train was slow because the forecast had been partially right: it was snowing, but it was snowing earlier and heavier than predicted. The journey from the train station to the cabin was even worse. Namjoon couldn’t drive; somehow, you had gone all this time not knowing that. You had also forgotten that he had mentioned something about renting a car when he first brought up this trip.

You hadn’t driven for years. Hadn’t needed to. Wouldn’t have been able to afford a car anyway. You were anxious. You were already anxious and now you had to drive winding roads on forested hills while the snow fell thick like cotton balls.

“I’m not fucking doing it,” you said, as you and Namjoon stood outside the car rental place.

“We don’t have any other way of getting there.”

“Taxi?”

“They won’t go. I already asked.”

“Well then how do we get there? I'm not fucking driving.”

“Suri, plea-”

“No! I said no! I hate driving. I can’t drive! I won’t!”

“You said you have a licence.”

“Yes, I have a licence but I haven’t needed it for years. You seriously expect me to drive in this? I’ll kill us both.”

Namjoon pulled his beanie from his head with a sigh and then fixed it back in place.

“I’m sorry. This was not how I planned it. I didn’t know the weather would be this bad, but can you please drive? We can take it slow—everyone else will be driving slowly, too. I promise it’ll be worth it when we get there.”

You knew it was an argument you couldn’t win because, short of going straight back home, there were no other options. With the way the snow was falling, it was even possible that there wouldn’t be any trains running anyway. You offered him your best scowl and stomped inside to pick up the keys. You wanted to argue, but you wanted to get out of the cold.

The journey was almost painfully tense. Driving, as it turned out, was quite a lot like riding a bike and, even with the snow, you coped pretty well: drove carefully, took corners slowly, made it to the cabin in a little under an hour. But you held onto your anger like a security blanket. It was, in some ways, a relief to be able to cling to it, rather than being tossed about in the waves of your anxiety. Anger was safe. Anger kept people away. Kept Namjoon away.

You were hoping for blessed relief from the cold. You were expecting to open the door and be hit with a wall of warmth, fire lit, heating on, a small side lamp illuminating just enough of the space that you could find your way to the light switch.

It was dark. It was just as cold inside as it was out. You stood in the entry way and clenched your teeth together while Namjoon fumbled with the thermostat.

“I’m hungry,” you announced when nothing more had happened a minute later.

“Ok, yeah, we can eat in a sec. Let me just figure this out.”

“What do we have to eat?”

“I don’t know, babe; I think there’s something in that bag.”

Namjoon gestured vaguely to the pile of bags next to you, which told you nothing. You inhaled, preparing to heave an aggrieved sigh when Namjoon straightened and looked at you.

“I know, ok? I know. I’m sorry. This isn’t like I wanted it to be either.”

Sentences short, clipped, like he was fighting his own frustration. He probably was. You were being a brat. You knew it. You were making yourself his problem. You were pushing buttons.

Somehow, this time, it didn’t feel like victory. It felt like defeat.

You let your sigh fall and stomped past him, flopping onto the sofa still in all your winter stuff. He turned back to the thermostat.

It remained tense and quiet for the rest of the evening and when you (fully clothed with a jumper and socks on) slipped into bed next to Namjoon (also fully clothed), you had deflated. You couldn’t sustain your anger that long, not when Namjoon didn’t fight back.

“I’m sorry,” you said, chewing on the inside of your lip, eyes cast down.

Namjoon leant over and pressed a kiss to your hair.

“I’m sorry, too. This isn’t what I wanted.”

You bit harder on your lip when you felt it wobble.

“I just thought it would be nice to get away. The sky isn’t even fucking clear because of the snow. I should’ve planned this be-”

“No,” you said, interrupting. “I’m just being pissy.”

“Yeah...” He paused. “About that-”

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t want him to ask, didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to have to admit it, finally, that you loved him. Certainly not after that day.

“I...”

You hesitated because you could feel your heart thumping and that prickling sensation on your skin that said you were stripping yourself bare. “It’s just me. It’s not you. I... I’m not trying to be a dick. Well, I guess, I-... I’m sorry.”

You risked a glance at him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. He pressed another kiss into your hair. You closed your eyes and felt your limbs loosen, something inside of you unlocking, allowing you to relax into the warmth of his body.

“It’s ok,” he whispered. “As long as you’re here.”

You nodded.

“I’m here.”

You raised your face as he went to kiss your head again and he caught your eyebrow. You didn’t give him the opportunity to laugh or say anything; you put your lips against his, turned your body towards him, and hoped you could say without saying the thing that burnt inside you.

It somehow felt like it had been a long time. That the nights that had passed since the last time he was between your thighs had stretched into weeks, elongated themselves in your memory and your body, so that every touch, every movement felt like remembering. Felt like something almost lost but found again. Felt, as it always did, like something coming together within you. Never more in your body than when he was, too. It grounded you. It brought you closer to yourself, closer to him, as though they were one and the same.

“F-uck!” you cried, gasping and panting as you tried to hold on, wanting this to last.

You were so close to it, to letting all that pleasure wash over you, drown you, take you under, but you didn’t want to go. Didn’t want to let this pass. You wanted to stay in this moment, this perfect moment, where it was just you and him and everything you did best.

If it passed, you would have to confront it again: the fear, the terror that your love placed inside you.

“Shit,” you swore again, but it wasn’t pleasure this time. It was frustration because you’d thought about it. Because now you were thinking about it.

You shut your eyes. You couldn’t look at him without that painful heart swelling, that effulgent warmth that enveloped you, followed by the ice-cold trickle of anxiety. You loved him. You loved him. You loved him.

Did he love you? Could he? Could anyone?

Your breath hitched and you tightened your fingers around Namjoon’s arm, nails digging into his soft flesh. You could feel it welling, this feeling, these tears, brimming in your eyes, sticking to your lashes.

The moment the first fell was the moment it all came loose. You came, cursing and crying, your body writhing, Namjoon firm and solid and stable around you. You came, hot and harried, clutching him to you like a buoy, as he held you secure and safe as he always had. You came unfastened, unbuckled, apart at the seams, flopping into him, just crying now, just crying.

“Baby...”

His voice was as soft as his body was not.

“Are you ok?”

You nodded, desperate for him to believe you as you continued to sob. He placed a hand on your head, stroking gently, the other rubbing small circles into your back.

“It’s ok,” he whispered. “You’re ok.”

And you loved him more because that was all he said. He didn’t push you for answers, didn’t make you reassure him. He held you and soothed you and let you be sweaty and naked and messy in his arms.

You were shivering with the cold before the tears on your cheeks had dried. You both wordlessly re-dressed and snuggled under the bedsheets, still clinging to each other.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

You knew he already knew the answer. No.

“I’m fine,” you answered, muffled against his hoodie.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

You nodded, because it was easier to just say yes now, to push the issue into the future. You could avoid it then, too.

Sleep didn’t come. You knew it wouldn’t, even though the cold made you tired, even though you could still feel Namjoon in every one of your muscles. You looked at Namjoon, at his face, peaceful as he slept. Not snoring, not right now. Tipped on his side, broad shoulders curled inwards. You thought about what he might see if your places were reversed. Did you look cute as you slept? Could he have lain and felt like he could look at you forever? Did it make his blood feel sweet inside him, having you close to him?

It felt impossible. Too easy. Everyone had said it was. Namjoon had said it was. Some of it had been easy, you thought. Maybe. The parts where it was you and him and no one else. The parts when you forgot to be self-conscious, forgot to supervise yourself so strictly. The parts when you just let yourself have it—happiness—even if you didn’t think you deserved it.

You looked towards the window, where that curious glow of snow was sneaking around the edges of the curtains. It was still dark outside, but snow had a light of its own somehow, a peculiar way of shining by itself.

You slipped carefully out of bed, wrapping your arms around yourself, and went to look. You pulled the curtain back and it was still snowing. Fat flakes fluttering slowly to the ground which was perfectly smooth and white. Unblemished. Untarnished. A blank slate.

You looked at the dark lump of Namjoon’s body under the covers. You were a blank slate. You had said that. Namjoon brought colour onto it. You had said that. You looked out at this perfect snowfall, the silent padding as it placed itself gently on the ground. A blank slate. Beautiful. No one had disturbed it. Not even a creature.

You had thought of your blank slate as empty. Blank because it held nothing. Blank with a freedom that scared you because you had been worn down and made to fear it. Your blankness made you hollow and worthless.

But this snow wasn’t. It was full. It was generous. It was giving itself to the earth. You had chosen. You had made your choice and it was Namjoon. Was always going to be Namjoon from the moment you had met him. And you had stopped fighting that.

You thought you had stopped fighting it but you had only paused. You stopped fighting it until you started again, until love blossomed in your heart just as everything on the surface started to bury itself underground. The richness and fullness of your own spring felt wrong, at odds with the earth and at odds with what you knew. What you had come to expect. What you had come to believe was all you would ever have.

You looked at the snow. You looked at Namjoon. You practised.

“I love you,” you said, barely more than mouthing the words but they still felt loud in the blanketed silence of the room. “I love you.”

You looked at the snow. Still perfect. Fewer flakes coming down now, the sky no longer heavy with clouds. You had been so intent on the snow that you hadn’t noticed the moon: bigger and brighter than you’d seen it before. This was what Namjoon had wanted to see.

“Hey,” you said, gently shoving against his shoulder.

He groaned, rolling onto his back and rubbing his eyes.

“What’s up?”

“Come.”

You tugged on his hand, pulled him out of bed.

“Look,” you urged, pointing at the moon.

Namjoon’s response was hummed as he adjusted to being awake. He shivered and pulled you into his body, back to his chest, arms around your waist.

“The moon,” he said eventually.

“Yeah, the super one.”

“Frosty.”

“Huh?”

“Uh, it’s called the Frosty moon, I think. If I were awake, I’d remember.”

You smiled and placed your hands over his, leaning your head back against him.

“I love you.”

Namjoon laughed and you froze, rigid as he let you go, as he turned you around. His hands moved to your face and he kissed you, warm and soft, a smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I love you,” he replied, kissing you once more before he laughed again. “I fucking love you.”

“You do?” Your voice was whisper thin, air caught in your throat.

“Yes, I do! I love you!”

The bubble of worry in your chest popped and it all disappeared, all that fear, all that doubt. He loved you. He fucking loved you.

“I love you,” you repeated, looking at him this time.

Even in the early-morning darkness, you could see his eyes sparkle, see the dimples in his cheeks. He mouthed the words back at you, picked you up and carried you back over to the bed. He wrapped himself tightly around you, lips against the back of your neck, your shoulder, your jaw.

“I didn’t want to rush you,” he said. “I didn’t want to put any pressure on you, so I wanted you to say it first but, fuck-” he laughed again- “fuck, I’ve wanted to tell you so badly.”

“You have?”

“Yes, baby. I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“I love you.”

You stared through the darkness at your hands, clasped together just in front of you. The words felt fuller than you ever thought they could. You had thought they would feel like something being taken from you, like they would open up a hole inside you and leave you bereft but they didn’t. Each time you said it, you felt filled up. With every repetition of the words, you felt more whole. Coming together. Being brought together inside yourself, all your little broken pieces.

You loved him. He loved you.

You fell asleep quickly and slept soundly until late morning.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #rm x reader #rm fanfic #bts fic #bts smut #namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon fluff #bts fluff

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hidden-quintesson · 1 day

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I'm not sure if this is a popular opinion, but I think TFES Bumblebee and Breakdown are closer to brothers than lovers. They enjoy each other's company and are protective over each other in a familial way, and they easily might have had a sibling-like relationship when they were younger similarly to what the Terrans have. They refer to each other mainly as friends, but I think that's because the brother/sister terminology that the Terrans have just isn't a thing on Cybertron since it's impossible biologically aside from split-spark twins.

I think those kinds of familial relationships deserve some spotlight in fanon over slash. Slash shows up so often and is seemingly more desired content-wise in fanon compared to celebrating friendships and familial bonds sometimes. Along with BreakBee, some do MegaDot even though Dot is married. Like, can we just appreciate the fact that Dot is friends with a fucking badass warlord, the one and only leader of the Decepticons, no less? A lot can be done with that that isn't sexual in nature.

The slash where slash isn't needed issue has happened countless times across other TF content, so I suppose I shouldnt be surprised when it happens to TFES characters. At least most of it is between adults. And I guess I get it. For some of us, it's just having fun with different ideas and outright creating entirely different AUs in which huge deviations from canon can occur. And I guess for a few others, it's an unrestrained obsession with giant alien robot sex in general lol. Anyway, it would be nice to see more fanon focus where friendship/brotherhood is the ultimate goal of a relationship. I suppose I thought of this because TFES has definitely pulled out my inner child with how much I enjoy it, and it would be nice to see some of the show's wholesome familial energy permeate fanon even outside of just ES fanon. I already am a huge fan of parent/child TF relationships (which definitely isn't a common main plot point in fan works) that I'd love to see more of as well as seeing more friendships that remain such or siblinghood that's focused on as JUST a siblinghood rather than twin-lover situations.

#transformers #transformers earthspark

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andypantsx3 · 3 days

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could you possibly write a guide on how to write Shouto for the collab? You write him so well and I'm scared I can't live up to your standards

Hello my love!!!! I am deeply touched you think so highly of my characterization, but I assure you I—and the other Shouto stans—will eat up whatever you do as long as you write him with love!!

I truly think the key to good characterization is exploring the traits you love most & aspects you find most interesting in a character. Different authors will emphasize different aspects of a character to differing degrees—resulting in so many unique flavors, all of them equally as delicious as the next!! It's okay and honestly a good thing if some of the stuff you want to explore is different from what I usually spend my time on!!

If you do want to know about which of his traits I like to play up, though, I do have this previous ask for you!! It's from a while back but not much has changed since then—the aspects of Shouto's character I still like the most are his kindness, his latent little shit youngest child energy (which is woefully underplayed imho lol), and his desire to be someone who puts people at ease. Oh and also obviously his pretty face. 😌

But I also mention how I depart a little bit from canon to play with some niche possibilities of his character!! For example, I like giving Shouto a sort of old money flare with more stilted, formal dialogue and mannerisms, because I have my own personal ideas about the intersection of Enji's wealth and Rei's pedigree as a member of an old, established family (the Himuras). This is not explored in great depth in canon but I have gone rogue and given Shouto old money vibes regardless lol.

But anyway all of this to say, write what you love about him!! Write what interests you about niche aspects of his character that could have been, like his old money vibes lmao. Write what you want to write, and the fun you're having and your love of his character will naturally translate well.

I really look forward to reading what you come up with!! 🥺 And I hope you just have fun with it!! Sending you all of my best vibes!!!

#ask andie

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danganphobia · 3 days

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Laishuro College AU prompt, and notes:

-first note, we’ve seen in casual doodles in the adventurer’s Bible that Toshiro seems to have an eye/interest for art and aesthetics. My gf for this AU is that he knows how to draw people and plants pretty well, but not animals or buildings. -second note, I’m using a chuck of Lokh’s own college AU idea where Laios is actually a online, novel writer on the side.

Toshiro, less interested in the DM campaign than he is staring at his surroundings, especially when said sessions took place at the old Touden House, he’s always looking around at the family pictures and nicknacks. Half-hoping he’d eventually see Falin’s childhood room, though having the sessions there was as rare enough.

So Toshiro isn’t super happy when the opportunity of exploring the home does arise, it’s to help Laios with his part of their assignment. When Toshiro looks around (reluctantly) Laios’ room, he notices all the bugs inside frames, and shelves full of animal parts like feathers and bones. So much so that even Laios notices Toshiro is distracted, and so he shows Toshiro his rarest souvenirs from going around the forest as a kid.

Toshiro is shaken to see a feather with similar patterns and colors as it was described in one of his favorite indie novels. Inside a rusty lunch box was also a few rocks and ores, but that feather stood out. Laios puts it all away before Toshiro can form the right question, a part of him also thinking it could just be a coincidence. The seed has been planted though, and so he can’t help but seeing the other similarities in Laios and the descriptions in the novel. Even notices his style of narration whenever they have a DM session after that.

Just a slow burn of Toshiro connecting dots and felling super frustrated yet enamored by the similarities, while planing to find a way to figure it out without anyone, especially Kabru (bc he would eventually just make fun of him anyways lol) finding out. So he has no other choice… Toshiro is going to have to get Laios all alone to confirm his suspicions and perhaps even… Admit his admiration for Laios work. If that’s all he’s found himself to enjoy about Laios that’s is.

This got my brain juices going. Drabble under the cut.

It never felt like it was the right moment to catch Laios. It was only fair, he was a busy guy outside of club meetings. So, Toshiro decided to do things the old-fashioned way.

When the class they shared together ended, he turned to Laios, opening his mouth to speak, but then he was bombarded by their peers sitting nearby in the neighboring rows.

Realizing that it was yet again not a good time, Toshiro stood from his chair and grabbed his things, leaving the classroom. As students flooded out of the door, someone else came rushing after him.

"Hey! Toshiro!"

Startled by his name being called, Toshiro turned around, meeting with Laios face-to-face again.

"Sorry it took me so long," he panted, catching his breath. "Did you wanna talk to me about something?"

Feeling put on the spot, Toshiro wanted to flee. Then he remembered, he needed to speak to Laios for a reason; a really good one. But he needed more time to gather his bearings about this.

"Can you meet me at the restaurant later tonight?" Club sessions weren't tonight due to everyone's schedules being packed, so they'd have a table to themselves.

"Sure!" Laios nodded. Another friend of his presumably called after him, catching his attention, but he made sure to properly say goodbye to Toshiro first.

Then, it was back to being invisible again.

Later, Laios met him at the restaurant as promised. He was on time, which wasn't unusual, but Toshiro was expecting him to postpone because something had come up.

Toshiro just had a coffee, because he had assignments he preferred to stay up late completing after this. He let Laios order whatever he wanted, though. He even offered to share some of his food with Toshiro, one of which was a gigantic plate of french fries.

Toshiro gave into trying just one, dipping it into the glob of ketchup on the side of the plate. It was incredibly salty, but it tasted incredible.

"Good, right?" Laios grinned. Toshiro smiled back. Okay, here goes nothing...

When Toshiro vouched to change the subject, Laios picked up another fry. "Try another!"

Seeing Laios dangle the salty fry at his face, Toshiro took it from him, taking a bite. Laios' smiled brightly, and then he began to talk to Toshiro about plans for their next campaign.

It was impossible to get Laios to stop when he was on a passionate tangent, so Toshiro let him. He paid for their check, insisting it was his treat and not Laios', and then they left the restaurant. Thankfully, judging by the silence, Laios must've run out of steam.

"Laios," Toshiro began, ignoring his racing heart as he continued. "Do you... do you remember when you showed me your collection at your house?"

Laios perked up. "Oh. Yeah, I do. Why?"

Toshiro stopped walking. Laios stopped a few steps ahead of him, noticing Toshiro wasn't moving anymore.

"That feather I saw in your lunch box," Toshiro said after, "I noticed, that it was also mentioned in one of your novels..."

Laios was quiet for some time, making Toshiro panic, wondering if he said the wrong thing. Then, he heard a chuckle come from the other man.

"So," he started, hands in his pockets as he approached Toshiro. "I'm guessing you figured it out, huh?"

Toshiro could only blink in utter confusion. "What?"

"I thought I was being subtle, well, kinda." Laios said with a bashful smile on his lips.

"I don't-" Toshiro shook his head, frowning. "Understand..."

"You basically just told me you read my novels, only someone that does would know this at all," Laios said, being more direct this time. "I haven't shown anyone other than Falin that feather."

This must mean Laios wanted to show him his collection, just Toshiro, and only him.

"Are you serious?"

Laios laughed, ruffling the back of his head. "Yeah. Y'know, it really makes me happy knowing you like my work."

Toshiro walked past him, pink coloring his pale cheeks, and it wasn't from the cold weather.

"Wait, Toshiro! Where are you going?!" Laios chased after him.

"Far away from you." Toshiro muttered.

"Just hold on a second!" Laios grabbed his arm, shifting in front of him on his feet. "I'm not trying to make fun of you about it!"

"The similarities between you and your writing made me feel like I've gone insane, and I've been keeping this in for weeks and weeks without saying a word about it," Toshiro confessed. When he saw that Laios wasn't reacting, he came to a disturbing conclusion. "How long have you known?"

"Hmm..." Laios hummed, taking his hand off Toshiro's arm. "I just had a feeling, I guess? Besides, you were kind of acting off since then. At first I thought you were freaked out, but that can't be the case. Then there was the possibility you knew about my work. I didn't want to ask you outright. I thought it was a stretch, so I was hoping you'd come to me about it."

There was no reason to try to fight this. Laios had him cornered.

"I'd have to admit, you are a remarkable writer," Toshiro said begrudgingly. "You and your protagonists have some things in common. Brash, insatiable, oblivious, surprisingly perceptive to other's emotions." And those just happened to be the traits that drew Toshiro to Laios in the first place. "But their resolve..." Laios stared at him intensely as he continued, hoping he could ignore his nerves, "is nothing like I've ever seen, I can't believe I'm saying this, I feel as if if they keep going on they could rule the world someday and succeed."

Laios' smile was warm, hearing Toshiro's feedback. "Yeah?"

He was suddenly closer than before, close enough for their lips to touch if he had taken another step.

"Yes." Toshiro whispered, a breath away from feeling Laios' lips on his, a hand on his chest, tilting his head up slightly.

Just as Laios was about to grant that wish, stirring Toshiro's gut, he snapped out of it last minute, stepping away.

"I should, uh, get home-" Toshiro blurted, eyes darting from Laios.

"Oh," Laios coughed, covering his mouth with his palm. "Okay. Sorry, I know you have an exam tomorrow morning. Can I walk you home?"

Toshiro waved his hand. "You don't have to do that-"

"Please." Laios begged, coming closer again. Toshiro stumbled back, because if he were in the same position as he were in before he was going to do something he'd regret in the morning. "Can I?"

Laios was just walking him home - an innocent gesture of kindness he'd been doing for some time now. It shouldn't mean anything, should it? He practically confessed that he idolized Toshiro and how happy it made him to know Toshiro was a reader of his novels. It was sure to affect their relationship in some capacity; but maybe if they pretended otherwise, it wouldn't make things weird between them.

Toshiro nodded. When he walked, he slowed his pace for Laios to catch up. Somehow, their arms couldn't stop brushing on the entire walk back, but neither of them could bring themselves to look at each other, far too embarrassed to.

Who were they kidding, they couldn't be subtle about their feelings on the situation to save their lives.

#dungeon meshi #laishuro #laishuro college au #van writes #asks #HI I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK I SCREAMED WHEN I SAW YOU IN MY INBOX #i hope i did your prompt justice omg i was thinking long and hard on how to slow burn the hell out of this

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