#also the whole thing turned out way more dramatic than i intended it to??

[eksperimentgaj]

hey, look, I managed to draw something

danger noodle/medusa (with Lando being the biggest danger noodle in the picture)

inspired by Mr. Norris' Vegas helmet

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #ln4 #mclaren f1 #f1 art #my art #pls ignore singapore/japan suit #tried to change it to the vegas one but it just looks better like this #ref photo i think is quite obvious lol #ever since i saw it i knew i want to draw it #as for the title... thought of something more serious #but snek memes won #also the whole thing turned out way more dramatic than i intended it to?? #not counting secret santa stuff it's the first drawing i post in almost 2 years #time flies huh? #not quite satisfied with shading but it goes well with the stained glass aesthetic i think #and yes hair were supposed to be like this #wanted to make it bit like mucha - turned out... not very mucha but okay nevertheless??

[carionto]

It'll be "awesome", the Human said

(Continuation/conclusion to this)

____________________________

After the Coalition delegates had been mindblown enough, it was time for them to finally leave and have a nap. But Captain Knoslark had one more thing he desperately wanted to show them.

"So, like, we're a science vessel and we have three of the biggest reactors, right? Right. So, I wanna show you what we recently figured out we can do. C'mon, it'll be awesome."

Awesome - a word the rest of the Galaxy will soon learn to both admire and run for cover whenever a Human uses it.

With trepidation in their steps, and worry in their breaths, they followed the all too eager Captain, who was almost skipping and humming down the halls, dramatically pointing the way. His crew continued to not give him the satisfaction of ever acknowledging his theatrics.

"Once the reactors are in good enough sync, we'll reconfigure the Radiant Dusk to a circular shape and begin!"

Oh. Yeah. Of course their ships can also transform. Why not. The delegates have given up thinking there are things Human engineering can't accomplish. Also, good enough?

"Eh, don't worry about it, we overbuild everything, so a 1 or 2 percent margin of error is fine, most of the time."

They could not imagine themselves to be more worried. At least not until a few minutes from now.

"Captain, she's ready," Chief Engineer Tameki's tone changed to a total blank deadpan for the next words, "to transform. and. roll. out."

With childlike glee, Captain Knoslark tapped the big red button, specifically designed for his pad only, to begin the sequence.

Distant creaking of metal, anguish at the prospect of bending in ways nature never intended, and the unmistakable jolt of mechanical movement, despite the artificial gravity maintaining the same down throughout, once more instilled primal anxiety for the delegates.

The reactors wound up, turning the almost-buzz like feeling beneath their feet to a true all encompassing sense of absolute power. Three small stars at equidistant points along the now 4km in diameter vessel created a singular feeling of something imminent that should never have been possible. The Universe itself wanted to reject this possibility.

"We tried copying your mass field generators from way back when you did the barrier thing. Wanted to see if we could get close to Black Hole levels, there were some theories that time travels was possible with that kinda pull."

I don't think anyone would be surprised if they had succeeded, but, for once during their entire visit, the Humans said they couldn't get time travel to work. Celebration! Then the Captain kept talking.

"So what happened instead is we accidentally tore a hole in time-space, creating a sort of warp gate." He said with both joy and disappointment.

Then the Universe shrieked. A massive distortion in reality now struggled and failed to restore normality between the ring-shaped ship. Swirling coils of matter flickered in and out, ghostly visages of detonations on a solar scale. A sight never intended to be witnessed.

"Still gotta figure out how to set a destination to anywhere. Right now the only stable connection we can get is with massive gravity wells, so any celestial body with enough mass, smallest one is a red dwarf. Problem is the connection steers towards the center, so not really practical right now."

"If we try to point at empty space the gate just kinda wiggles and you end up getting spaghetti-fied on the other end. Still, once we get enough ships like this one around the galaxy, we'll solve that whole trips taking more than a few hours thing we got with the hyper drives."

At this point the delegates decided to be escorted away, as most had became a crying mess. One stumbled onto a automated cleaning unit and at this the Captain, whose mood had soured a bit now that his time as tour guide was over, rose back to heights unseen before. With his most official sounding, yet at the same time most joy filled tone ever, he declared:

"Sergeant Ying Zhao, issue an official notice. Today at 20:30 ship time there will be a grand ceremony for the promotion of Captain Stabicus to Special Envoy of the Galactic Coalition. Ready all relevant paperwork, and his new badge, and inform the chef to prepare a feast. We have done much today for the sake of Human-Coalition relationships, and so much more for the Radiant Dusk at Everest and her crew and staff. Tonight, we celebrate!"

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #humanity fuck yeah #carionto #story #stabby the roomba

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

The names of the Gods

I vaguely promised an essay on my thoughts on the names of the Gods about a week ago or so, and thus I shall deliver :)

A few months ago when I was scrolling on TikTok (as one does), I came across a video by @olympianbutch talking about invocations in traditional Hellenic Polytheist prayers. The whole video was good, so I'll link the video (for the invocation): [here], and you can watch it all for yourselves. (And you should watch the two videos before it, they were equally good and educational). In it, he explained why we start prayers by saying the Gods' names: "This is because the ancient Greeks believed that when you said a God's name, They went: [insert action of dramatically turning around here]." Now, this was definitely funny, but once the full implications of that statement sunk in, it permanently changed how I viewed my own praying (in a good way, of course, otherwise I wouldn't be writing this thing based off of the video).

Now, the idea that your speech can call a God to you is something incredibly amazing, incredibly beautiful, and incredibly powerful. It means that the very second you state Their name, They can see your whole situation, and respond accordingly. I think this is something good to keep in mind, especially as the influence of 2020 witchtok/pagantok fades out (I was deep in this back then, so I'm speaking from that perspective [at some point in the future I'm doing a ramble on this as well, and how it impacted my early worship + relationships with the Gods {no hate if you were there too, I think it lowkey sucked for all of us}]). I used to feel really nervous that I didn't have a Real Connection with the Gods because I wasn't constantly hearing Their voices in my head, or having some kind of miraculous encounter with Them on a daily basis, and I used to base a lot of the idea of a "successful prayer life" around those encounters. However, since hearing of the concept of the Gods seeing you when their names are called, I've found my worries about that trickling away. When I pray, whichever God I'm praying to is there, and I can simply revel in the knowledge that I am standing (or sitting, or kneeling) in the presence of the God(s). The Gods are ever-present to begin with, but by calling upon Them in prayer, I am able to be face-to-face with Them in a more meaningful way, even if it's not something immediately sensible.

Beyond my prayer life, I've also found myself a lot more thoughtful about when I say the Gods' names. For deities that I worship frequently like Hermes or Dionysos, I'll be a bit more lax. I'll call upon Them for little things, like seeing a little crystal phallus in a metaphysical shop, or praying for safe travels. For deities that I once worshiped closely, like Artemis, I'll call upon Her in praise of the beauty of nature, especially if it's getting Real Beautiful or Real Cool. And even for deities that I rarely worship except on feasts, like Zeus, I'll call upon Him in praise of good things that fall under His domain, as a "I know it was You doing this!" kind of thing.

Anyways, this ended up a bit more rambly than I initially intended it to be, but I hope that somewhere within this ADHD-addled writing there was something of substance that's useful to you in your practice :) The Gods are always there, something something, always good, something something, I love Them.

#no seriously this ended up much more rambly than i intended #but i hope this provided something to think about at least #dionysian #dionysus #dionysos #hellenic polytheism #hellenic polytheist #dionysus deity #dionysos deity #hellenic pagan #hellenic gods #hellenism #paganblr #helpol

[ohimsummer]

this has been in the drafts since January, also it’s a scrap!! so there’s no real ending (spoiler alert he lost), sowwy babe <3

content: eren x armin's gf, teasing, mean! reader, suggestive, explicit language, not proofread

Eren Yeager considered himself a lot of things, but a bitch was not one of them.

He was notorious amongst his group of friends for accepting any dare, challenge, or bet thrown at him. Even if it was something foolish, all it took was a little prodding at his ego to have him up and running to do whatever it was they'd suggested. Eren thought it made him look cool. You thought it made him look stupid and easier to exploit.

Eren glances at you, more specifically at your boobs in his face which are almost keeling out of your tank top. "So you want me to do...what, exactly?"

You release a dramatic sigh and sit yourself on the arm of the couch, pajama shorts riding up the crease of your thighs and leaving even less to Eren's imagination. "It's a bet, dummy. Go a week without touching me since you like to put your hands on me so much. Think you can handle that?”

He downs the last remnants of water from the bottle in his hand before crinkling the plastic against his leg. "Yeah. But why would I wanna do some shit like that? Give you even more reason to act a fucking ass?"

You grasp at your chest in feigned shock and dismay. "Oh, well, excuse me, then! Big, bad Yeager-boy turning down a challenge? Fine, be that way."

Despite turning in preparation to leave, your feet don't make it to the floor before there’s a strong hold around your waist; Eren holds you in place and then pulls you closer to him, basically onto his lap. "Ah, ah. I didn't say I wouldn't do it, dumbass. What's in it for me if I win?"

You pretend to think up a prize for him, pursing your lips and tapping your cheek. "If you win, I'll do anything you want for a whooole week." A smile spreads across your face as his eyebrows perk up in intrigue. "But if I win, you have to do whatever I say, for a whole week. How's that sound?"

Eren had to admit, you at his beck and call for a week was an enticing offer. Though, at the same time, it gave you a week to be more annoying than usual. But, it would only be for a few days...and after he won he could spend the best week of his life breaking that shit attitude of yours apart and maybe make you behave more often.

"Okay, then.", Eren agrees. You give him a wicked smile and giggle, then begin to explain the rules to him more clearly: no touching you in any sexual way, not to tease nor to taunt, and you make sure to eliminate any specific touches he could try and play off as innocent. Eren decides not to set many rules for you. He liked the challenge, plus, when he won, he intended on making you pay for anything you did for the next 7 days.

The challenge started the very next morning. Eren spent the night wondering how he'd approach it; maybe he'd just avoid you altogether, or try and ignore you and just hope you’d get bored from his lack of reactions. He, unfortunately, wouldn't have any such luck.

"Hey, Eren!"

Eren recognizes your voice behind him as he's walking to his car to head to his apartment. He turns, and his eyes almost pop clean from his head. Thoughts are fighting to be at the forefront of his mind, a prominent one being 'How the fuck is she allowed to wear that on campus?'. There's no time to question it, your voice cuts through his jumbled mind as you ask him for a favor.

"Could you drop me off at the library, 'Ren?", you bat those pretty eyelashes and tilt your head. "I'm supposed to be meeting 'Minnie there but my car's in the shop. Pretty please?"

He agrees. And the week only gets worse from there.

If Eren thought you were insufferable before, it increased tenfold the day this bet started. The car ride on Monday had to be one of the worst experiences of his life. It was bad enough that majority of your skin was revealed, but watching the sweat glisten on your exposed chest, tits pushed up and straining against your top, jostling with every bump in the road that he tried desperately to avoid, made the whole thing that much more unbearable. 

The days following weren’t that much better. Eren realizes how much you’d been holding back when you’d teased him before. Sure you’d lean forward a little and wiggle your ass when you knew he was watching, but now? On your hands and knees in a skirt right in front of him with only the thin fabric of your frilled panties to hide yourself from him? Taking a shower when you knew he was coming over just to let him catch glimpses of your gleaming skin. The worst offense, in Eren’s opinion, was when you “accidentally” text him a photo of your bare pussy, quickly followed by “oops, meant that for ‘minnie so don’t look :(”.  He doesn’t respond, but the read receipt indicating that Eren did indeed see it has you giggling to Armin that night about how fun it was to make his friend’s life even more of a living hell. You don’t know that your high jinks have Eren fucking his fist every night until he can’t even cum anymore, but you like to believe that you have that effect on him anyway.

In spite of your unbearable antics, Eren prides himself on lasting until the final day without touching you. He’s irked at your lack of panic that you’re about to lose, but decides that you’re just putting up a front to make him suspicious. 

#eren x reader smut #eren x reader #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #aot x reader #aot x reader smut

[sugarpopss]

Running Sucks

Okay. So. This is very niche bc it takes place in the universe of @bucknastysbabe and I's chat where Bucky got rescued from HYDRA after falling and sent home, settled down w his sweetheart and got to be happy and safe and fat and work for the SSR. Then ALSO they found Steve he's fine and he and Peggy are fucking on the DL. Very much an 'everyone is fine bc it's happy' AU. Steve and Bucky go on runs together and have bestie time. There's just a lot of lore to know alright.

The thing about running is that it sort of sucks. Sure, it’s ‘good for you’ and ‘important to exercise’, but it sucks. That’s an opinion Bucky will stand by until the day he dies. 

The thing about James Buchcanon Barnes in the spring of 1949 is that he wasn’t even that out of shape. He’d always had good stamina and going into the military didn’t hurt that. Besides, whatever they’d pumped him up with in Azzano-traumatic as the whole experience was-seemed to bolster his entire body. He didn’t need to know precisely how. The less time spent thinking about it, the better. The night terrors were calming down and that was good enough. 

So no, Bucky did not have a negative opinion of running simply because he was out of shape. 

And he liked parts of running! He liked being out and about in Brooklyn, he loved hanging out with Steve-especially since their lives had diverged a bit in post-war adulthood. Even if Bucky would’ve never imagined ‘hanging out with Steve’ constituting going on a run before the guy went and got himself shot up with whatever secret smoothie sent him into second puberty. 

He liked jogging with his best friend and swapping banter and gossip with the easy comfort of childhood friendship and the understanding of forged in fire brotherhood. But by god, he hated how his thighs chafed like they were trying to start a fire. Bucky would absolutely admit to having put on a lot of weight since coming home-being full helped him sleep and his wife loved to bake, sue him. It didn’t usually bother him. Being fat felt like being safe, like his body was one hundred percent, absolutely his, even with the metal arm HYDRA had practically superglued onto him before he was rescued. 

But the fucking chafing was something else. And it was the very worst while running. His thighs rubbed together and wore the inseam of his pants to threads, he could feel his entire body jiggle every time his feet hit the pavement, and the sweat that accumulated in the creases underneath his moobs or the overhang of his belly was less than comfortable. 

And because Bucky was the man he was, and had pretty much settled into a happy, domestic life and the good days far outnumbered the bad, he was in the position to be needlessly dramatic. Just for fun. And for attention. 

Which was why about two thirds of the way through the circuit they were running he stopped running and bent over, hand on his knees, and took several heaving breaths like a dying fish. It wasn’t entirely for show-he was out of breath-but he could’ve kept going for a few more minutes. 

The dramatics had their intended effect, though. Steve stopped running and turned around, eyebrows raised. 

“Come on, assclown. You can’t finish five miles?” 

Bucky took another very deep breath and straightened, wearing the same smile that made girls in dance halls fall over themselves almost a decade ago. Not that he used it for that much anymore-he was a happily married man. 

“Said I’d do two. Pretty damn sure I said I’d do two.” 

Bucky had, in fact, said he’d only do two miles. He’d also gotten distracted talking to Steve and just kept running; he’d only noticed how far they’d gone when the friction burn on his inner thighs had become too irritating to ignore. 

“Yeah, but you say that every time. I just tune it out.” 

Steve smiled like he was holding back laughter when he said it, and Bucky laughed after he said it. 

“Whatever, punk. We’re walking the rest.” 

He slung his flesh arm around Steves shoulders, grinning. For all the moaning and groaning he did, Bucky did enjoy this time. 

As they started walking-because they were going to walk the rest of the circuit. He was serious about that-he realized there was something he hadn’t asked Steve about in a while. Something incredibly important that he absolutely wasn’t just using to josh on his friend. 

“Say, you asked Peg to move in with you yet?” 

Steven Grant Rogers went bright pink. 

#I don't even know what to tag this as honestly #Its tangentially related to feedism but not really feedism?? #You could read the interplay as stucky but its not intended?? #It's bucky fic but for a very specific audience #chubby bucky #thats what ive got

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kicho's Main Story Dramatic Epilogue

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

Kicho's subordinate: "Lady Mai."

Mai: "Are they here already?"

Kicho's subordinate: "Yes. They're already waiting for you in the parlor."

Mai: "Okay, I'll be right there."

Stopping what I was working on, I got up from my chair and picked up the clothes hanging in the corner of the room.

(Yup. Everything is good.)

(I hope they'll be pleased this time, too.)

Kicho: "So everything is sold?"

Mai: "Yes. And they also said they would come back again soon."

Mai: "I'll have to come up with a new design as soon as possible."

Kicho: "You're so passionate about your work. No wonder you're so popular."

Mai: "Eh, no. I can't do this job without my customers."

Mai: "And especially you guys. You always help me choose the best clothes!"

Kicho: "I see."

He smiled softly and put the brush down on the desk.

Mai: "Are you done working?"

Kicho: "Yeah. I had less than usual today."

(He said that yet he just finished it now.)

Kicho: "What's wrong? Your expression suddenly darkened."

Mai: "I'm sorry. I haven't been able to help you that much."

Mai: "You're busy because I stopped being your secretary."

Kicho: "Oh, that? I already told you a dozen times not to worry about it."

Kicho: "Since you're busy sewing clothes, there's no need to go out of your way to help me."

Kicho: "Besides, I'm glad it turned out this way."

Mai: "Huh?"

He got up, approached me, and gently took my hand, lightly tracing my fingers.

Mai: "Um, Kicho?"

Kicho: "You have more scars again. You also seem to be working late these past few days."

Mai: "You can tell?"

Kicho: "You're dextrous, so I doubt you'd prick your fingertips this much."

Kicho: "Maybe you did it until late at night and lost focus when you got sleepy."

Mai: "You guessed right. You always see through everything."

Kicho: "I'm closely watching because it's you."

Mai: "Ah..."

He pulled my hand and pressed his lips against my fingertips.

Blushing, he looked up at me and smiled.

Kicho: "You really love your job that you put so much effort into it."

Kicho: "It's one of the things that makes life worth living, so how can I stand in your way for such selfish reasons?"

Mai: "Kicho..."

(He really cares about me.)

(He looks after me and loves me.)

My heart pounded as I kept looking at him, but he took his gaze away from me and looked at the clock.

Kicho: "By the way, you said you'd start tomorrow."

Mai: “Huh?”

Kicho: "I'm talking about work. You'll start designing tomorrow, right?"

Mai: "Yes. I wanted to spend time with you tonight since we haven't been able to spend much time together lately."

Kicho: "I see. If that was your intention all along, then I guess I don't have to seduce you for it."

Mai: "..........."

The words he said made my body tense.

Perhaps sensing this, he let go of my hand, lifted my chin, and kissed me lightly.

Mai: "Nn..."

Kicho: "You're right. We haven't spent much time together lately."

Kicho: "And instead of fading away, my feelings just keep on overflowing."

(Ah...)

He carried me and laid me on the bed while kissing me repeatedly.

Kicho: "Mai."

He leaned in close, brushing a lock of my hair over my ear.

Mai: "Nnn...ngh..."

Our breath mingled as he inserted his hot tongue through my parted lips, and lewd wet sounds echoed in the room.

(We're just kissing, but my whole body feels so hot already.)

(I want more of him.)

My eyelids became heavy as my thoughts melted away, caused by the happiness and heat welling inside me.

(I really love him.)

(I really love Kicho.)

Mai: "No way."

I woke up still feeling dazed as I recalled my blunder last night.

(Please, please let it be a dream.)

(I can't believe I fell asleep.)

The room's owner was already gone, and the sunlight was streaming in from outside the window.

In addition, I could even hear the birds chirping.

(I really fell asleep like that.)

(That was so rude of me一Hmm?)

I suddenly noticed something on the table and got out of bed.

(It's a note. He must have left it.)

(Um, let's see...)

Mai: "Eh!?"

Mai: "Ah! Motonari, this way."

Motonari: "..........."

Motonari sighed as soon as he saw me waving my hand while sitting in the teahouse.

Motonari: "What kind of crap have you brought me today?"

Mai: "It's not crap. I'm really in trouble."

Motonari: "You say that, but it's probably about Kicho. Are you here to brag about your love life again?"

Mai: "Love life?"

Motonari: "You're not aware, huh? In the first place, why are you calling me so casually?"

Mai: "Because I know you'll show up."

Mai: "Please sit next to me. I don't want to stand around talking."

I shifted to the side, and Motonari sat, looking pissed.

Motonari: "So, what is it?"

Mai: "Well, from your perspective, does Kicho look like he's pushing himself too hard?"

Motonari: "Let me ask you something. What made you think so?"

Mai: "He's too kind to me."

Mai: "Look at this."

Motonari: "A note? Ha? What's this?"

Mai: "This is from a few days ago, the morning after I fell asleep on him."

Mai: "And yet, he still wrote an apology for leaving the room first."

Mai: "Moreover, when I returned to my room, he prepared breakfast, clothes, and medicine for my wounds."

Mai: "Isn't it too much? Even though we're lovers, I wonder if I'm making him worry about me a little too much."

Motonari: "............."

Mai: "Motonari?"

Motonari: "What's the difference between this and what you told me the other day?"

Mai: "Huh? Wait, what was it again?"

Motonari: "You said something about him being too soft on you and not being able to keep up with his feelings."

Motonari: "He's not forcing himself or anything. He's just like that to begin with, so get used to it."

Mai: "He's like that?"

Mai: "Do you think I'm the right person for him?"

Motonari: "Ha! You picked the wrong guy to ask that question."

Motonari: "If you don't want that kind of romance, find someone else."

Mai: "Ah! Wait!"

Motonari tried to stand up, but I desperately blocked his way.

Mai: "If I look for someone like that leisurely, my heart will reach its limits in no time."

Mai: "When I expressed my feelings, I had no idea this would happen."

Motonari: "Then go talk to a wall. It'll calm you down if you vent, right?"

Motonari: "Anyway, I have another business meeting. See you later, princess."

Mai: "M-Motonari!"

Not wanting to interfere with his work, I watched Motonari's back as he left.

(Talking to a wall is just so dull.)

(I wish I had someone to talk to.)

Kicho's subordinates, acquaintances, the maids in the trading post, and everyone in the Oda army...

Various faces popped into my head and then disappeared like bubbles bursting.

(This is hard. I guess talking to a wall is better, after all.)

(Oh, right!)

Mai: "So, I bought some souvenirs at the teahouse."

Mai: "I had some rice crackers the other day, and he said they were delicious, so I decided to go with those."

Fuku: "Kicho."

Mai: "Yup, that's right. A souvenir for Kicho."

Fuku, hearing my words, shook her head happily and called out Kicho's name a few more times.

(Fuku really likes to chat.)

(I feel like I've picked the perfect choice.)

Since Fuku often spent time in this room with me during Kicho's business meetings, I thought it would be the perfect place for a secret talk.

Mai: "By the way, Fuku, will you hear me out? The other day Kicho..."

Every time I started talking, Fuku would stare at me with her round eyes.

It was nice to have someone accept my feelings, even if the other party was a parrot.

Mai: "Also, he's so handsome and cool."

Mai: "Wait, I got off-topic. Sorry, I'm just confused by what he said."

Fuku: "............"

I would occasionally feed and pet her head as I talked about Kicho, completely immersed in my new conversation partner.

A few days after I started talking to Fuku...

Kicho: "Mai."

Mai: "Kicho."

As I left the room to get a drink, I bumped into Kicho.

Kicho: "You're still awake?"

Mai: "I just finished working on my designs."

Mai: "More importantly, were you going somewhere dressed like that?"

Kicho: "Yeah. I had some missing materials, so I just came to get them."

Mai: "I see."

(Which means he's still working.)

(I shouldn't hold him back here for too long.)

I felt so happy to see him that I could hardly walk away from the place.

Kicho: "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Mai: "Huh?"

Kicho: "Lately, you've been spending a lot of time in your room. I know you're busy with work, but don't push yourself too hard."

Kicho: "If it's just stitching, I'm sure we can get someone else to do it."

Kicho: "If you want, I can arrange for a few seamstresses."

Mai: "No, I'm fine. Thanks, anyway."

(I didn't realize I was spending that much time in my room.)

(He really looks out for me, even though he's busy himself.)

Mai: "Um, Kicho?"

Kicho: "What is it?"

Mai: "If I can help, please let me know."

Mai: "I'm your former secretary, so please don't hesitate to ask me, your lover, for help."

Kicho: "Mai."

(I want to take care of him the way he takes care of me.)

(I want him to think I'm the best partner for him.)

Kicho: "Thank you, but I'll just take that feeling for now."

Fuku: "Kicho!"

Mai: "----!"

Interrupting our conversation, Fuku flew in, flapping her wings, and landed on Kicho's shoulders.

Kicho: "Fuku."

Mai: "Sorry, we were in the same room."

(I probably forgot to close the door, so she got out.)

Mai: "Fuku, come here. Let's go back to my room."

Fuku: "..........."

Mai: "Fuku?"

Fuku: "Kicho."

Kicho: "Kicho?"

Fuku: "Cool! Love him to death!"

Fuku: "Kicho!"

Mai: "F-F-Fu-Fuku!?"

The words Fuku said to Kicho were the words I had recently told her.

(She learned it so well.)

(It's amazing, but now's not the time to show it off!)

Kicho: "Mai?"

Mai: "Y-Yeah. Um..."

Mai: "Can you pretend you didn't hear that?"

Kicho: "Does that mean you don't want me to hear it?"

Mai: "..........."

Flustered, he stroked my cheek and looked between Fuku, who was still repeating the words she had learned, and me.

Kicho: "Looks like you've been a pretty good teacher."

(He totally gets it.)

Mai: “Um, no, that’s not what this is...”

Kicho: “No need to pretend you don’t know, and no need for excuses.”

Kicho smiled more happily than usual and stroked Fuku’s little head.

Kicho: “I thought you’ve been spending a lot of time in your room lately, but you’ve been using Fuku as your companion.”

Kicho: “You probably didn’t expect to see her show off this in front of me.”

Kicho: “I guess you could call this a selection error, or maybe a bird selection error.”

Mai: “Ugh...”

Fuku: “I love Kicho.”

Kicho: “I see. You’ve learned a lot. But it’s already late. It’s time for you to get some rest.”

Kicho: “Mai, I'll put her in your room.”

Mai: “Okay.”

Opening the door, he glanced at me and moved Fuku into his hand.

Kicho: "I'll put her back in the birdcage. You go to my room first."

Mai: "Okay."

After a few minutes of waiting, he came back.

Kicho: "Now, let's continue where we left off."

Kicho: "If you really love me that much, I'll listen to you as much as you want."

Mai: "What!?"

Kicho: "You're the right person for the job. If it's me, I won't have to tell anyone else about it."

Kicho: "Plus, it's only natural that you want to help someone you love to death."

Mai: "Please forget about that one."

Kicho: "How could I forget about it after hearing all those cute words?"

Kicho: "If you don't want those cheeks to blush even more, just be honest about it."

Mai: "Ah..."

Smiling happily, he put his hands around my waist and kissed my forehead.

Kicho: "I want more than anything to pour all these feelings I have for you."

Kicho: "Mai."

He looked straight at me and called my name in a seductive voice, and just like that, the feelings from him flowed into me in a rush.

(I'm all messed up.)

(I'm so deeply loved that I can't do anything about it.)

My heart was screaming that I was at my limit, but that scream was quickly replaced by a flutter of excitement and euphoria.

Shaking my head was no longer an option.

Mai: “Then I’ll take it all in.”

Kicho: “Of course.”

He kissed me hungrily after replying.

This time, our sweet time has started without being lured into a dream.

Previous Part╏Masterlist╏Romantic

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen kicho #ikesen kichou #ikesen jp #ikesen #ikesen spoilers #ikesen motonari #ikesen translations #cybird #otome

[hongthoven]

okok hear me out for a request idea:

san has a bad day at work, he feels really down and just has a breakdown once he comes home to you. so you do the obvious, overstimulate him. make him cum over and over until he is a crying mess and can't think about any of the bad things anymore. and then lots and lots of aftercare afterwards.

(obvi no pressure, write about it only if comfortable and if you want to. have a nice day/night <3.)

~🖤

Cry Baby (San x reader smut)

pairing: san x fem!reader words: 2.2k tags: foreplay, overstimulation, handjob (san!receiving), oral (san!receiving), sannie is a cry baby and a little mess but he's also tooth rotting soft and I adore him so much ♥

Author's note:

Hiii ♥ Thanks for your request! I'll make it a drabble if that's alright with you! At this point I should make a whole “bad day at work followed by lots of sex & aftercare” series cause I’m up to my third writing piece around that topic now, haha! I hope y’all alright and not overworking yourselves! take care + stay hydrated ♥

This turned out a lot more softer than I originally intended, I think. Then again it's my first time writing about Sannie and I have nothing but the softest love for him, so... !

English still isn't my first language so be kind to me ♥ also this was definitely NOT written while on my workplace- not @ me ignoring people around me so I can write dirty San business. Who needs a job anyway?

You knew better than to ask him about his obvious moody frown as soon as he walked through the door. If you didn’t know him the way you actually did, San would most definitely look like a whiny child coming home from school, throwing a tantrum and his backpack on the floor before running to his room until someone would give him the attention he obviously craved. 

His natural pout twisting his lips, you watched as San pulled at the tie around his neck, making it loose as he winced dramatically. Still, you waited for the right moment to interrupt, flicking the pages of a book you had already forgotten about while comfortably snuggled into your favorite blanket on the couch. Though you had kept an eye on him from the minute he had graced the place with his ethereal presence, you still managed to remain completely quiet and ignorant until you felt the warmth of his body crashing on top of yours without a warning, your book flying to the floor in a second so you could wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, welcoming him entirely into a tight embrace.

“What’s wrong, hun?” you whispered, fingers already tucked around a piece of hair at the back of his neck, twirling it tenderly. 

San wasn’t much of a talker, especially when things weren’t going his way. If anything, he was a whiny child waiting for someone to take care of him and handle things without asking. Unfortunately, his silent pleas often came with tears- his soft heart unable to content anything that would slightly scratch him in the wrong way. So, it was no surprise to hear him sniffling and whimpering into your neck, his entire body vibrating with each sob while you gently stroked his back in silence for a while. 

“Baby- look at me” You finally interrupted, framing his face with your palms pressed into his cheeks to force a gaze out of him. His eyes were filled with tears, the tip of his nose a little red and there was nothing you wanted more than to kiss the exaggerated pout out of him. 

“Do you need me to take care of you right now?” over years of dating San, you both had come up with a simple rule sealed with a vocal agreement. If one of you needed something from the other, they simply had to voice it out for their wish to be granted. 

“Y-yes” San barely choked through a sob, nodding into your palms like a child begging for someone to blow on his bruised knee, tears still rolling all the way down to his chin, soaking your fingers. 

“Didn’t hear you” You teased with a small smirk creeping up your face as you watched your lover’s face lighting up with a thousand new perspectives.. 

“P-please…” he insisted as you could most definitely feel his body shifting against yours, every part of his body tensing at the thought of you handling him the way only you knew how. 

“Alright baby” You smiled, pecking his lips once, then twice, feeling the taste of salt in the corner of his mouth where a couple tears had died. “Get up and get undressed for me, then” - your voice was more like a command now, though your tone remained soft and extra caring. While you had been engaged into much wilder scenarios before and never minded a little bit of roleplay, you knew precisely what your boyfriend needed today, and being rough didn’t sit right on the menu you had planned for him today. 

San never complained once, pushing himself up with his fist crushed into the couch to kneel between your legs, pulling at his tie until it was resting lazily on the floor next to your book like a beautiful ribbon, his fingers already fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, inevitably teasing you with the mere glimpse of his impeccable bare chest. While San was blessed with the thinnest hips you’d ever seen before, you just couldn’t get enough of his broad, muscular shoulders and the way his upper body seemed to be molded into an actual mountain, giving his name a whole new meaning. 

Unable to keep your hands to yourself, you decided to give your man a little help, moving your palms up and down his perfect figure, palming his hips, grazing his nipples with the tip of your fingers as you watched him come undone in a minute, his skin covered with goosebumps as he whined under your touch. No matter how many times you had seen that look on his face, you just couldn’t get enough of your boyfriend’s over sensitivity and the way he always crashed into your palm the minute you gave him the attention he was so desperately asking for. 

Hooking one finger into his belt loop, you pulled at it a couple times, looking up directly into his eyes like a silent command. Again- without a hint of hesitation, San pulled open the thin piece of leather, almost tearing at his fly until his pants eventually pooled at his knees, granting you with the best reward. 

While you made sure he didn’t notice, you still had to clench your thighs together slightly, the sight of his obvious arousal making you foam at the mouth as you could already feel yourself meeting his level of excitement. 

“hhhh– f-f-fuck” San instantly groaned as you palmed him through his boxer, his chest tensing so hard his flat stomach turned into hard rock abs the second your thumb grazed his head, coating the soft cotton fabric with precum as it inevitably spilled. 

His straight eyebrows knitted together through a concerned frown, San watched as you pulled down his boxers to grab a handful of him, his knees inevitably drifting slightly so he would kneel higher above your chest, towering over you. By now, you had made yourself comfortable into the thick pillows behind your back, looking up into your lover’s eyes while stroking him at the most painfully slow pace. 

With one hand resting upon the back of the couch for balance, San’s lips turned into the most beautiful “o”, almost heart-shaped with the impeccable curve of his pink lips as he started thrusting himself into your fist, matching the velocity of your pumps. There was something beautiful about the silence in the room, barely broken with a couple whimpers from him and the way his body shifted against the plaid, trying to keep his balance while unconsciously trying to rub himself against anything as your touch only seemed to increase his neediness.

You felt him spill into your palm before you even heard him cry about it, thick white lines of his warmth pooling into the cavity of your grasp as San pumped himself into oblivion, the sounds coming out of his lips barely audible as he frowned with absolute delight, eyes closed and jaw tensed while you smirked to yourself at the sight of his abandoned sulk.

Looking down after a while, San’s face was torned between the satisfaction of seeing your beautiful, slender hand filled with his cum, the obscenity of the act as a brutal contrast with the softness of this moment, and an inevitable sense of guilt, his cheeks tinted red as he felt like a teenager soaking his pants through a minute of a porn movie. San typically found pride in his endurance and the way he always managed to make you cum before him, and while your own skills weren’t new to him, he always felt a little too shameful anytime you managed to make him spill within a minute. 

Still- you weren’t done with him.

With one hand pushing him backwards until he fell into the couch, his head resting against the armrest, you made sure your other hand never left its grip around him, coating his now over-sensitive manhood with his own juice as your fingers drove him smoothly into another peak of arousal. 

“Hhhh—baby” San finally whined after the longest time, teeth gritting together and his entire body trembling from overstimulation as you milked him up to the very last drop, his swollen head dripping over himself, warming up his hollowed stomach with long strings of his filthiest desire for you. 

“What’s that, darling? Do you want me to stop?” You teased, collecting a moan out of him as your thumb grazed his agonizing slit, allowing yourself a taste of your favorite snack as you cheekily pressed your finger against your tongue, licking some of San’s precious glaze with the most satisfied purr. 

Any other man would have begged for mercy, unable to take more as San’s entire body seemed to shake from the overwhelming embrace of his girlfriend and already melting twice into her palm. But San was no other man and while he would never vocally admit it, there was a minute where pleasure and pain seemed to meet that he could never get enough of. 

With no one stopping you, you scooted into the couch until your cheek was tenderly nesting against his inner thigh, skin to skin while your fingers danced upon his flesh, tracing the veins along his throbbing member as the warmth of your breath against him was already enough to get him hard within a couple minutes. Smiling proudly to yourself, you looked up to see him wince and come undone as soon as you palmed him again, cradling his balls to the sound of his whiny moans. Fist clenched around the pillow, San closed his eyes, tilting his head back as a growl escaped his pouty lips while yours suddenly wrapped around his cock, swallowing him entirely. 

Nothing could ever beat the excruciating feeling of San filling your entire mouth, the bitter taste of his cum hitting the back of your throat as you tried your best not to gag around his girth. 

While you were used to San’s hands framing your face every time you gave him head, it was no surprise to see him keep a strong hold of the pillow behind him as he tried to compose himself and not burst entirely into your mouth, his quivering cock ticking like a clock at the very back of your throat. 

There was no rush today. No will to finish before any of you had any type of schedule to run back to. No desire to challenge yourself and make your boyfriend explode before due time - and that’s precisely what you did - you took your time and made sure he could feel every every pull of your lips, every squeeze of your hand and the painfully good pressure of your hollowed cheeks squishing around him like the warmest cocoon. 

Still- as much as San was trying his best to act tough, you heard him choke into a sob the very second he felt another wave of the most overwhelming pleasure crashing over him, his entire body tingling with the intensity of his third orgasm, building up the tension before another big release. Thumping his fist into the pillow just so he could gather his energy into something else, San cracked up under your touch, his face tearing with the intensity of his whiny cries, tears almost spilling from his eyes like little darts all aiming towards you. 

You knew it was merely the effect of your mouth around him but mostly the aftermath of a terrible day- but there was something about your boyfriend spilling into your mouth and coating the deepest parts of your throat as he sobbed uncontrollably from the overstimulation. Unable to contain himself, San finally reached for your face, framing your cheeks with both of his strong hands as he erratically thrusted between your lips, the bottom half of his body almost jolting against you as he failed to gain control of his own muscles.

You waited until he was done, unwilling to ruin the moment as you knew exactly that’s what your boyfriend needed right now. To allow himself to break entirely under your touch and cry it out. Cry everything out. Any source of stress, any fear, anything that may have upsetted him through the day and more importantly, cry his thankfulness out. When words failed to reach his lips, San knew how to make you feel praised and cherished, every fiber in his bones aching out of love for you. 

As he finally looked down, eyes fogged with many tears, San pressed his thumb into your cheek, brushing your lips as you swallowed every single drop of his heated passion for you, the most endearing smile twisting your mouth as you finally locked gaze with him. Body shaking and most definitely out of breath, San waited until you pulled the thick blanket over yourself, building the fuzziest fort as you locked both of you into it, reaching for his lips. 

San’s skin was covered with sweat and goosebumps, his breathing still hectic as a couple muffled moans died in the middle of his throat while you looked up, your lips unable to leave his face as you pecked every single piece of skin along the way, slowly wiping the tears from the corner of his eyes. There wasn’t a sight of a frown or worry on your lover’s face anymore as you watched him doze off for a couple minutes, exhausted and overwhelmed. 

#san x reader #san smut #ateez smut #request #ateez

[occasional-pyrrhon]

I need to know your most unhinged headcanons about Pyrrhon. Idk if you already have a post like this, but I need to know.

YAY YAY YAY OK. OK EVERY THING I'VE EVER THOUGHT ABOUT HTIS GUY LET'S GO. MILLION PAGE LONG POST UNDER THE CUT

OK so what is this thang in the first place right. I think he's an alien. HEAR ME OUT GUYS HEAR ME OUT. So space seems really weird and vaguely eldritch in the worldbuilding right, the Kraken and the Pirates' appearances being robotic along with the Aurum, who apparently just Happened one day. I think he also Happened one day and just crashed landed onto earth meteor style, either coming from the sun itself or being the Aurum's flawed attempt at mimicking a god that got too out of control and developed free will. I mean he has bright green eyes and looks nothing like the other gods. Even HADES wears CLOTHES man. Fitting with space being mostly outside the domain of the gods, this weird little mini sun man was able to claim the Sun God title because no one else was using it, which is why the gods themselves are torn on if he's one of them. He isn't immortal but he does age slower than normal, he's a fairly recent annoyance among all the divine discourse

Him and Arlon are brothers! Sorta. They met as kids without any apparent families and Pyrrhon theorizes that they're connected, which Arlon goes along with. So they kinda *become* brothers in a way with my headcanons? Ja. They start out being kinda frenemies who don't really get along and are just sticking with this theory to figure out their pasts but they end up truly having the brothers relationships and being at eachothers' backs. Everyone else is shocked to learn about this every single time since they're such opposites. Arlon lends stability and Pyrrhon lends freedom and encourages leniency towards the whole "loyalty" thing, which evidently means less to him. 😌

The other popular headcanon I like is that his flame aura is controlled by his emotions. He can make it flare up for dramatic effect or cool it down if he needs to, but it's typically involuntary. It's usually not harmful to people, though he can easily burn things if he isn't paying attention and he's always warm to the touch. If he's calm it simmers down. If he's really, truly upset or hopeless it goes out. If he's excited or angry it burns brighter. If it turns white hot and hurts to the touch, you should probably run. :)

He's trans. "How is he 7ft tall?" Divine HRT will do that to you. "Out of everyone in the cast who would be way more fitting-" I like him. "Wasn't there something in smash about the gods' physical forms-" I do what I want always all the time forever.

OKAY so it's tough sometimes with characters who are intended to be insane with no further context because on the one hand that can be kinda fucked but on the other hand OUHHHHH. crazy guy who loses control to the orb was such a weird adhd awakening for me but baby if it wasn't an awakening. SO putting aside that it's obviously exaggerated and he was probably just intended to be insane with no nuance, I headcanon him as autistic and adhd with probably an array of Other Shit going on that I'm not qualified to pin down without feeling like it may be insulting. my mental illness pilled folks give your takes below or don't if you're uncomfortable with attatching stuff to characters like this because that's very justified I just hyperfixate on and relate to the worst specimens possible o7 you would not believe how many ocs I have that are just "let's do this bitch again and deconstruct all the dehumanization these guys always get while we're at it" follow my main artblog with my ocs plug plug plug plug

I think he would hate Hades as the apex of the irresponsibility and evil of the gods. HOWEVER Pyrrhon x Hades is just inherently super funny to me so its tough I kinda need to reconsile them. MY HEADCANON is that they dated for a bit when Pyrrhon didn't have a vendetta against the gods yet and was going after cred then when Palutena and Medusa yuri-divorced Hades felt the urge to one-up Medusa in some way so he ended things with Pyrrhon by saying he's homophobic. This in turn put Pyrrhon on a brief stint of homophobia that he thankfully recovered from when he started to listen to Limp Bizkit (unironically in every way of course) and decided that Fred Durst is the most beautiful man on the planet. Or will be. Kid Icarus ancient Greece with Nintendo you know how it is.

I'm growling and pacing ominously with a shadow over my eyes all the time over his underdeveloped motivations BUT from what we're given of his respect for Pit and his vendetta against the gods along with the heroic act I feel like he's kinda with Dark Pit on the idea of the gods constantly throwing everything off balance BUT the critical difference that turns him into a villain is that he thinks that if a true hero like HIM were the most powerful god he could fix all of this! See see HIS indulgence in the violence and warring is justified he doesn't WANNA incinerate the angel but it's just for the greater good. Fool tried to end the cycle of violence by becoming part of it!!!!!!! Everyone point and laugh!!!!!!!!

He's smart but he's also a dumbass but he can actually be a genius under the right circumstances but he's so so stupid. Right. He would put together a computer on his own from nothing but Vibes then think YouTube is a platform exclusively for fnaf letsplays because its the first thing he clicked on and he doesn't know how to search. He can determine his location by looking at the stars he also got lost in the department store yesterday. He can tell you about the Aurum for two hours he doesn't remember what he ate for lunch yesterday so he answers with som shit like the essence of heroism in the sandwich of destiny. He's so me he's all of us in a way .

He has mild psychic powers and he is NOT good at them 💔 he taught himself short range telepathy hence why he only really talks to the others in person until he gets his power up. He also tried to learn how to give visions and prophecies recieved upon touching his gem but it kinda just traps you in his adhd mindzone where he tries to keep up the illusion with cardboard cutouts on sticks.

Okay post canon time! Horray!!!!! The shorter more hyperspecific headcanons are after this. Tw for trauma and parallels to abuse until this section is done we're in projecting lane now.

A lot of details of what happens to him post-Aurum vary depending on what I'm drawing/writing at the moment like if he gets out on his own or has to be rescued after the war with Hades resolves, but generally he's trapped with them for a while with wavering control over himself. He develops an intense phobia of space and the Aurum afterwards despite them once being his biggest interests (<- PROJECTING.) His sense of personhood is very disrupted - he wasn't just controlled, he was assimilated and became one in the same with them with only shards of him holding on and resisting. He goes between never wanting to encounter them again to being nothing but a vessel who *must* return to them again no matter what it does to him, and he doesn't remember how to be a person without them controlling him. He completely stops believing he's a god in any way. He often zones out with the instinct that something else will be at the wheel until someone snaps at him and he's like huh wuzzat. Then probably plays it off as being inconsiderate since what people expect of him is easier than the truth.

He has the belief that the Aurum are attempting to take him again, even if they end up destroyed they're too powerful to him now to end that easily. They're *all* and they're *everywhere*. Since a lot of ptsd symptoms can feel like losing control it compounds quickly.

He has a habit of covering his mouth when he's upset. The feeling of those words and that smile stick with him.

I also think he'd have pretty messed up misconceptions towards "redeeming himself". With his broken identity he clings onto the idea of being fearless and acting the same way he used to, otherwise they "won". He would do stuff like accompanying Pit on a space mission and acting like it's no sweat while intermittently sneaking off to hide the breakdown. Why should he be afraid? It was *his* fault after all, and if he can't stop himself from being hurt it's just going to be *his* problem.

He starts wearing clothes to hide the scars he recieved on his chest, back, and limbs. He wants to look like NOTHING has changed, as much as possible. He starts returning to his old Nothingcore fit the more he heals from the events, because he doesn't like the feeling of clothes in the first place. he wears fingerless gloves and leg warmers because he can't stand the alternatives to either.

He also has a cane that's supposed to look enough like a staff to pass as one. His legs have been Pixels for the past couple years ok. Either way he's insecure about it and mostly uses it private, once again passing off his troubles in the department as his typical cringefail self don't worry about it 😁 👍

There's some mechanical alterations inside of him and like. I don't know how to explain my vision here except imagine the junji ito stuff turning into spirals story but with math and geometry and such. You can plug a bluetooth chip into his back scar and he's a literal wifi hotspot now. The quadratic formula is hidden somewhere in his femur as a fun easter egg. A lot of the changes are good for an impromptu living weapon but not for that weapon having an easy time afterwards, but it takes a while for him to reach out for help there, not just because of all previously mentioned but because he *hates* the idea of something going in and making "edits" to him again.

There's some more literal lingering effects from the Aurum - he can understand Morse code and binary and is compelled to read it out and translate it whenever he sees it, and sometimes those are the forms of communication that remain when the others go down, along with general detached computer speak. He *really* doesn't like others seeing this -- I like the idea of Arlon or Palutena teaching him signing to use in moments like this.

He is so touch starved my god. He probably wasn't getting much affection pre-canon in the first place but after being in space for 3+ years in a place where anything organic for miles is destroyed on sight, his body not being his own, and then going on to hide it all? Someone lays a hand on his shoulder and he just *melts*. He already feels like the affectionate back-breaking bear hug type in my mind so it's just. Auougghhhhhhhhhh. Yeah.

NO ONE IS HANDING HIM THE AUX CORD. EVER. His top artist on Spotify is Smosh. He listens to Lil Dicky and Your Favorite Martian. When it's a date and he needs to put on the more acceptable by society stuff he puts on ABBA and the Niel Ciceriga mashup albums. The ladder is most of his exposure to the wider music world he was BAFFLED when he found out hendrix wasn't actually singing about furries. I also think it would be really fucking funny if his main playlist with 2010 YouTuber Core has like Kid A interspersed in there. Thom York and the party rock guys are on the exact same artistic pedestal to him (you can decide if he's a real one for that)

Okay back to the less intense headcanons. All the main ones were at the top these are just little ideas or like stupid stuff.

He would NOT BE A MYSOGINIST. NO ONE GETS MY GUY. He's the most cringefail feminist on earth he was at the women's march tripping over the asphalt and face planting 30 times and when it was over they had to pick him up with a dustpan. HER PRONOUNS ARE THEY/THEM !!!

He figured all the fnaf lore out on his own but none of the gods gave a shit so he used the peak of his power to bestow maddening visions upon Markiplier's 20th removed great Greek ancestor. Hades did the same thing to MatPat's 20th removed great Greek ancestor just to muddy the waters and spite his ex

His favorite animals are snakes, cats, and dragons. When the others find out about him Going Through It post canon, Viridi begrudgingly makes immortal replicas of a snake and cat as gifts to him for emotional support

He would use his divine resilience to go out and hug poisonous creatures and beasts because he can

He would get so upset by like made up cartoon insults like in worlds where everyone's a dragon and they call eachother a pink-tailed coward and that kind of stuff right. If he got teleported into the geronimo stilton book universe and another mouse called him a chedderface he would have to be HOSPITALIZED.

He doesn't curse a lot and only does it under very specific circumstances that tick him off like if you called spongebob annoying he would curse you out

Talks to himself alone in rooms constantly. Has ytp verbal stims.

Has a thumbtack and string board not for like anything in specific its kinda just his replacement for a journal but for a guy who tries to find the connection between the weird waiter he met at girls' night to the Aliens

I have a genre of guys I call Stray Dog Youth who are just people I think would evoke a heroic pity response from him and the urge to take them under his wing and raise them into defenders of justice. Pit. Chicken Little. Fluttershy. Shadow the Hedgehog. Timmy Turner. Gohan. Malcom in the middle maybe I never watched it. But do you see my vision here. He respects this genre of person more than any god ever

STIM LORE 🔥 fist bumps, flying around in circles, saying him catchphrases and doing him poses, playing with fire in his hands and swirling it around. He's a hup and huh and woop and oops and wup kind of guy. Sometimes he yells CHOCOLATE STARFISH!!! to himself in fred durst impression.

He polishes his forehead gem a lot to be as striking and shiny as possible

His hair starts to turn ashy at the tips and hang down when it grows longer

He respects human life more than the average god. Protecting the earth is his ultimate goal but he'll justify many questionable sacrifices to achieve that

Panromantic Asexual 💪 he does not care about flirting or sex there are horrors to quell citizen. I mean even if he wanted to he couldn't so.

Oh yeah he uses citizens generally when talking about humanity and such, but citizen turns into a nickname for Pit in particular as a sign of respect.

He gives Pit exposure therapy training after returning to earth and learning about his pyrophobia. He also has talks with Palutena, one of the first gods he develops some respect towards and one of the first people to accept him back in, since they relate to eachother over the Chaos Kin incident.

He doesn't have a real temple and he's mostly a drifter, but he did set up shop at an abandoned human temple in the middle of nowhere. WORST crib imaginable. courage the cowardly dog style PC setup. Light up gaming in progress sign. Q-bert funko pop displayed like a treasured collectable.

He would be OBSESSED with old low budget sci-fi movies and similar genres of b-movies. He thinks The Amazing Bulk is the best movie ever made ever

He would be really good at games where the rules are just entirely decided by vibes and such he can understand them thoroughly. That one video of the guys using toy phones and xylophones like a card game with gamer rage mannerisms. Calvinball. Etc.

He can go a while without sleep. When he needs to he lays back in the sky and sleeps among the stars. This has led to many flock of owls attacks followed by meteor crash landing into a god's back lawn.

THAT'S ALL I CAN THINK OF FOR NOW but yeah those are the big ones 💞 thank you for opening the gates for me to be insanecrazy about my specialist guy on the planet 😁

#pyrrhon #kid icarus #kid icarus uprising #kiu #headcanons #not art

[acacia-may]

You asked me, now I asked you, 2, 9 and 22 💘

Thank you so much for the ask, friend, and for playing this writing ask game! I'd be thrilled to answer your ask and share some excerpts with you. 🥰

2. An excerpt of my writing that makes me laugh

I'll admit that I am always so nervous whenever I try to write anything humorous. I feel like I have an odd and often dry sense of humor so I really worry my jokes aren't going to land in my writing. That said, I really love dramatic irony used for comedic effect. For instance this joke from one of my Fairy Tail fics, "The Jam Problem," always makes me laugh:

“There’s nothing wrong with being smitten with Rita and wanting to go on a date, Yuri,” chimed in Mavis with a reassuring smile. “I’d like to go on a date too someday.” She paused and a somewhat dreamy sigh she had not been intending accidentally tumbled out of her mouth as she added, “With Zeref.”   Yuri’s brow furrowed at her, and he turned back to a somewhat concerned Precht and Warrod. “Are we ever going to do something about Mavis’s ‘Zeref Problem’?”  “I think it’s just a phase,” reassured Warrod with a thoughtful nod.  “She’ll probably grow out of it before anything bad happens," Precht agreed.

I also really love situational comedy, cheeky bantering, and snarky one-liners (which might be one of the reasons I love writing Charmy so much). Here's one of my favorite Charmy jokes from my Black Clover fic "Pancakes For Dinner"

“For you, Miss Charmy, I would do anything,” Rill said with a bright beaming smile before taking off to, Charmy was certain, conspicuously watch Finral. “Awww…” teased Vanessa draping her arm around Charmy’s shoulders causing her cheeks to flush a little. “He’s so cute!” “You say that, la,” sighed Charmy. “But he’s never painted a life-sized portrait of you as a ‘food goddess’…”

9. An excerpt of my writing with characters I love

Here's a snippet from one of my favorite fics from my Early Black Bulls series, "A Bird In The Rain" (which I apologize is only on AO3 but I'll still link it). The friendship between young Yami, Gordon, Finral, and Vanessa is one of my favorites in the whole series, and I don't think it's talked about nearly enough.

“I’m back,” declared Finral appearing in a portal beside Yami as the rain began to pour. “Great, now hurry up and get us out of here before we get soaked,” he huffed, but Finral wasn’t even looking at him. Yami’s brow furrowed, and he glared at him in irritation. With eyes that wide and that tint of pink in his cheeks, he knew exactly what—or rather who—Finral was staring at. “You wanna pick your jaw off the ground and get us out of here?” he quipped, but Finral didn’t respond. Yami rolled his eyes. “Damn it, Finral, will you stop staring at the poor girl already?” “She’s so…” Finral almost gasped quietly, but his voice trailed. Yami blustered but finally whipped towards Vanessa to see what all the fuss was about. If he was being honest, even he was rendered a little bit speechless. Vanessa had both arms flung out widely at her sides as if catching the rain that gushed down from the storm clouds above. Though she was getting completely soaked, she had tilted her head all the way back towards the sky, wearing the widest, brightest smile Yami had ever seen in his entire life. Now, he knew of course that Vanessa was a generally cheerful person who smiled more than most, and he had seen her excited over the most random and everyday things before—but he had never seen her this happy. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he had ever seen anyone this happy. There was something almost mesmerizing, almost beautiful, about her joy, and even Yami had to admit it was breathtaking. Vanessa must have sensed that they were all staring at her because she turned towards them and her face turned bright red. She sheepishly shuffled her feet. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve never been caught in the rain before…” Her voice trailed, and something panged in Yami’s chest—a cross between a deep, almost aching sadness and a vindictive desire to rough up the Queen of Witches. “Were you waiting on me?” Vanessa added quickly, almost guiltily. “Uh…um…” Finral choked as his face flushed, but he seemed too awestruck for words—not that Yami could really blame him as he himself was having some trouble formulating a response. Not even Gordon was mumbling. Vanessa’s blush deepened. “And now you’re all soaked…”

22. An excerpt of my writing that is so blissfully self-indulgent

Thank you so much for this!! Please enjoy some Uncle Langris and Dad Finral from my "Birthday Buddies" fic 🥺💖

“Langris?” a voice whispered. His eyes fluttered open. How long had he been asleep? he wondered. “Langris?”  “What?” he mumbled. Groggily, he turned towards his brother who was positively beaming at him with tears of joy in his eyes. “Do you want to meet your nephew?”  This question shook Langris awake as he focused intently on the small bundle in Finral’s arms. Langris’ face softened, and he nodded as Finral handed him the baby and explained with the pride and excitement of new father, “This is Kalon.”  “Hi Kalon,” whispered Langris, trying and failing to keep a serious face as he stared down at his nephew. He looked so small wrapped in his quilt, but he wriggled and squirmed before nestling into Langris’ arms and smiling in his sleep—his button nose wrinkling and his arms stretching out from the blanket as his tiny fingers extended as if he was reaching out for him. Langris held out his own finger to the baby—letting him wrap his little hand around it. “He looks like you,” he whispered, and Finral nodded but smiled with pride, happy tears glistening in his eyes again. “So I’ve been told…” 

I just love when my boys get along with each other, okay? 💚💙

#thank you so much for the ask #writing excerpt ask game #vilandel #to be fair the majority of my writing is self-indulgent I think lol but uncle langris and dad finral is a major indulgence for me #Langris and Kalon actually have the same birthday 😊 which is what that story is about #fairy tail fic snippets #black clover fic snippets #spatial mage brothers

[thesherrinfordfacility]

Fair enough! There's certainly no definite evidence, you can totally read it differently, but I don't think the trauma interpretation, unless you're trying to, wrongly, claim Hard Canon Facts, is this massive, wildly-out-there-impossible stretch either. There's a basis to build a case for it from, it's just that all the evidence is circumstantial and relies on interpreting inner thoughts, so you could build a completely different case from it too. Guess for me, personally, it's like when you look at the angel version of Crowley versus what he's like today, he's Been Through Things and I don't think all of that was only secondhandedly witnessed - doubt he's escaped entirely unscathed from who-knows-how-many thousand years under first one and then another dictatorial state - and of that which was firsthand, I personally don't think that was all only Hell (and whatever Hell does to him, another thing that, to be fair, is mostly implied and read into the between-the-lines, not outright stated or shown, is technically traceable to Heaven for casting him out in the first place) but hey, that's just my interpretation. What we can, I think, sort-of-conclude is that the Fall was in all likelihood painful i.e. physically traumatic (I def trust the pub scene over anything told to Aziraphale) and probably intended at least partially as punishment, seeing it's the undesirable alternative to being a good obedient angel used to keep the angels in line. Book Crowley took the maintenance lift or the back stairs, whereas TV Crowley's being, imo, taken in a more dark, dramatic direction, but I could be totally wrong, because what we've got in the show so far could go either way. However it turns out, it's wrapped in six millenia of hurt and rage and there's waaaaaay more to it then we know so far, so in essence, yes, seconded, we need a Fall scene in the 3rd season.

i definitely don't think it's a stretch, not at all!!! i definitely do not think that crowley emerged unscathed from the whole debacle, whatever happened between the pre-fall scene and eden, but because we don't know exactly what happened, im currently reading it that he's as i described - bitter, angry, upset, resentful - rather than there being any underlying form of trauma. i do also think that the flood, or some point between then and uz, is a triggering point; there's a big difference in crowley's approach to god between these two events:

crowley comes across as very innocent and trusting on the wall and in mesopotamia; the sheer act of the flood, and what aziraphale tells him about the motivation behind it, comes as a shock to crowley - now sure, to me, this could say many things, but for me the biggest among them is that he can't believe that after the fall, god would basically pull the same stunt again, and 500-odd years later in uz, he's fully unsurprised by what he considers to be an atrocious act that he's working independently to subvert and resolve (and notable that we see in uz the first in what appears to possibly be becoming a habit - what appears to be displacement onto the goats. whilst it's certainly a defence mechanism, i don't personally consider it to always be a trauma response... but look im not a psychologist).

again, that's not to say that he can't be experiencing trauma alongside this, not at all, but in line to what ive personally come to expect as a result of trauma, i would have personally expected some degree of... resignation? at the flood - 'yeah of course god would do that, why wouldn't she, she's done it before' etc. so again, whilst i don't dismiss the possibility that crowley is traumatised from the fall, it's currently just not quite ringing 100% true to me, not without (imo) the crucial information to give context to why he acts/speaks/behaves as he does. so at the moment, i feel like a good portion of his behaviour stems from realising that god is repeating history, not necessarily the first instance of it (hope that makes sense). and this, i think, feeds into his direct beseechment to god in his flat - again, that god is doing the same thing over and over again, and hasn't learnt.

i definitely take your point re: what the angel who crowley was (AWCW) was like before the fall, and the stark contrast between that and crowley as we know him now. but there is a lot in between those points; not only the fall itself, but the events leading up to it. all we currently know that is he asked questions, and that he hung out/was somewhat in cahoots with lucifer and his gang - i don't think that necessarily occurred in a short space of time after the pre-fall scene; if anything, i do wonder if crowley's fall (especially if we take the revelation about his wings darkening slightly in the pre-fall scene) was a long, drawn-out, and steady process... again, that doesn't mean he can't have been traumatised from it, but there is a heap of context that we're missing that i think will reveal what crowley's state of mind would have been in, in the lead-up to, during, and directly after, the fall.

im personally undecided about how truthful crowley was in the pub scene; i don't think it's inconceivable that, alongside skewing the details of his fall to aziraphale, crowley is capable of fudging the truth somewhat to himself. that's not to say that he deserved to fall, because i don't think that's going to outright be the case, but i do think that it's a possibility that he did something that he has refused to come to terms with or acknowledge, and has told himself half-truths over and over until he potentially believes that to be the truth.

crowley may not outright lie, but he's very good at speaking in riddles, withholding information (sometimes even subconsciously), and dancing around begrudgingly-admitted truths to make himself come across as, frankly, more impressive than he already is. to my mind, AWCW does it in the pre-fall scene, even, so we know it's not strictly crowley-as-a-demon thing:

and to me, this comes across in the pub scene too; i don't think crowley believes, in his bladdered state, that he's actually talking to anyone, but he's speaking as if he is, and as such what he divulges is once again danced around and played down. the bit where i think it does become truth is the account of the physical act of falling; that i can believe, because it's the face he pulls, and the way he twists the talisker bottle, that make me think he's actually being truthful here... everything else before it feels like he's playing to an audience (and he doesn't know it, but obviously he is - us!), and that makes me take it with a pinch of salt.

so yeah, totally with you that the physical fall itself probably wrecked some damage (i don't talk much about book!omens - i hold it close to my heart but i see it very separately from tv!omens, i have to admit - but i do think there was some element of playing-it-off in the description of his 'sauntering vaguely downwards', no different to how he tells it to aziraphale in 1862), but i still don't know how much i see it as having traumatised crowley.

to my mind (so, for clarification, this is entirely based on my experience of trauma, and may not be the case for everyone!), trauma takes away a good deal of agency, and i guess idk how much i see crowley without agency in this respect? i completely agree that the fall may have painful, upsetting, and rage-inducing, without a doubt, but does it stem from trauma? that for me is not yet clear!✨

#bear in mind that im trying to answer this without bias from speculation - yk the theory about metatron being behind #all of the things that we are led to believe god is responsible for (and that god isnt a completely amoral entity in all of this) #and the whole memory wipe theory etc #good omens #crowley meta #the fall/the great war spec #ask

[luluwquidprocrow]

sweetest things

violet, klaus, beatrice, bertrand

gen

3,155 words

To the consternation of most of the Baudelaire household, the third Baudelaire child takes her very sweet time making an appearance.

my fic for @snckt for @asouefanworkevent's wicked way exchange!!! lainey, i loved ALL your prompts so much and i, fully 100% intend to do another one as well, when i can get my head around it better. but here is some baudelaire family slice of life!!

By Friday afternoon, according to Violet’s checklist, the Baudelaire family had tried –

1) An after dinner walk (It was fun for the four of them to go around the block after dinner, with Klaus pointing out all the summer flowers, but it hadn’t done anything at all. Mother hadn’t been very optimistic about that option anyway. She walked around all the time, and if that wasn’t enough to jog anything, more average physical exercise was unlikely to move things along.)

2) Surprising Mother (Father had hidden himself around the house all day and tried to startle her – it had only really worked once, and mostly just succeeded in Mother almost smacking Father right in the face with her summer book. They were all very thankful Mother was rereading Violet and Klaus’s books from when they were very little, and not her customary enormous summer novel. Violet wondered what would’ve become of Father’s face if he’d been smacked with, say, Mother’s gigantic illustrated Moby Dick with the gilded cover. Something very horrid, she thought. Father was very handsome.)

3) Dancing (Also a regular activity, but one Mother enjoyed much, much more than the after dinner walk. They’d all been sure that a whole afternoon of elegant tangos and brisk but careful sambas would be the perfect thing – but Mother had ended the day sitting and grumbling when nothing happened.)

4) Not doing anything in particular (On the chance that merely suspending their wait and pretending they weren’t waiting might cause something to happen. They all carried on with their usual day – Father brought Mother lemonade, and Mother read regular, adult books, and then did a crossword puzzle with Klaus, and Father worked on his puzzle book, and Violet and Klaus played chess in the library and gave answers when Father asked them for help with the trivia section, and then Mother and Father played game after game after game of backgammon, and they all painted their toenails again (with Violet and Klaus and Father taking turns doing Mother’s toenails), and none of them entered the nursery just to even look at it and make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, and they even moved Mother’s hospital bags from the front foyer into a closet, and then they all sat around in the afternoon sun not doing anything until Mother let out a very dramatic sigh and said they should give it up as a lost cause. They’d gone out for ice cream that night, as a reward for all their trouble. They were a few days past Mother’s initial due date now, or her due week, because Violet had been late and Klaus had been early, so when it came to expecting her third child, Mother circled the whole first week of August so she was prepared at any moment. After the ice cream, she’d looked at the calendar in the hall almost like it had betrayed her.)

5) Laughing (Father told the most terrible, awful puns and jokes, and went around a whole morning making jokes in the library to make Mother laugh. Violet and Klaus thought Mother had to be humoring him, but it was her genuine laugh, every time. Maybe, they figured, when you married someone, you thought them saying “You’re a real page turner” and looking between Mother and the book she’d been holding was endearing, not embarrassing. Either way, that hadn’t worked, either.)

Violet starred the next thing on her list – spicy food – then put down her notebook and scooped up her invention into her arms. She carried it back downstairs, stepping over Klaus, who was in his usual position on the floor outside the kitchen, where the sunlight came in the best through the big glass window above the sink and filled up all the spaces of the Baudelaire home with a soft, yellow light. It fell right on the pages of Klaus’s book, just the way he liked it.

“What are you reading?” Violet asked, looking back over her shoulder.

“Nothing,” Klaus mumbled. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet this week, Violet thought, barely helping at all with Violet’s list. It was like all the anticipation, all the excitement, all the wondering and waiting just passed right over him. Violet frowned down at Klaus’s head, buried back in his book. She figured that when Klaus wanted to talk, then he would surely tell her what was bothering him. She’d just have to wait him out, too. And Violet was getting excellent practice at waiting things out.

“Ah! Is this it?”

Violet turned back to the kitchen. Father was looking at her expectantly, standing by the counter with the tomatoes and peppers and cucumbers and one onion all laid out. She rushed over and set her invention down.

She picked up one of the tomatoes and fit it onto the top dowel. Violet pressed the tiny button she’d put a tomato sticker on, and her invention whirred to life as she and Father watched – the tomato spun around as the record player underneath it started up, and on the first revolution, the skin of the tomato peeled off, and on the next, it split open, sliced out from the inside, creating neat little cubes of tomato that fell onto the transparent plate below, all to the tune of one of Father’s bossa nova records, the sound coming out of the gramophone horn fixed on the side. Violet beamed. She’d designed it last week, after seeing a box grater display in the supermarket, and knew she could do better.

“Wonderful!” Father said. “Very well done, Ed.” He removed the tomato pieces and set them in the big glass bowl at his elbow, then set one of the cucumbers on the dowel. “You can get started on the croutons,” he continued, gesturing at the sideboard cabinet, where he’d put the bread last night.

Violet picked up the big bread knife nearby and got to cutting. It would be easier, she started thinking, if there was a machine for this, too – and something that would toast the croutons – and something to saute the garlic to put them in – and maybe something to tell time while you were doing it, too – and maybe –

“Croutons first!” Father said.

Violet realized she’d been reaching for the ribbon in her trouser pocket. She gave herself a little shake and got back to the bread. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Father set the chopper for the cucumber. He was humming along with The Girl From Ipanema, and perfectly at ease. An excellent opportunity to try and catch him off guard.

“Where’s Mother?” Violet asked, to start.

“In the library,” Father said. He removed the cucumber and replaced it with a pepper. “Relaxing.”

“And it did not work,” came an irritated voice, and Violet and Father both looked up to see Mother in the doorway, holding onto the jamb as she stepped over Klaus as well and lowered herself slowly and gingerly down into one of the stools by the counter. Klaus watched her carefully until she’d sat down, and went back at his book.

“Aha! Here she is!” Father exclaimed. “Miss Tall and Tan and Young and Lovely herself!” He leaned over and gave Mother a quick kiss on her forehead, brushing some of the hair that had fallen out of the bun atop her head out of her face.

Violet barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Father was at it again. Certainly, Mother was tan and young and lovely, but not very tall at all. But it made Mother look a little less grumbly, and that was good.

“Anything I can do to help?” Mother asked. She adjusted her position in the stool, sitting at an angle so the curve of her stomach didn’t hit against anything. “Get you the vinegar? The coriander? Dance around with the salt shaker until I salsa this child out of me?”

“All you have to do is sit there and look nice,” Father said. “Which you already do, effortlessly. And not eat all the cucumbers,” he added, waving Mother’s wandering hand away from the big bowl.

Violet waited a few moments, slicing into the bread again. She wasn’t sure how she’d fare against both of her parents at the same time, now, but maybe it would cheer Mother up. And hopefully Klaus would join in. “I wonder if Ginger will like gazpacho,” she said, keeping her tone light.

Father started humming again. Mother was suddenly inspecting her fingernails, looking very interested.

Violet reached over into the icebox for the half-used garlic bulb. “Or if – ” She caught sight of the mason jar filled with soft, small green leaves. “ – Sage will like garlic croutons.”

Father smiled once more, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses, and Mother successfully stole a piece of cucumber from the big glass bowl and popped it into her mouth. “Very refreshing,” she commented. Father gave her a mock-stern look, until Mother said, “You said all the cucumbers, that was one cucumber.” She maintained eye contact as she reached into the bowl and took another. “Two,” she said, around the cucumber.

Violet puffed out a sigh. Mother and Father had been so tight-lipped for the past nine months about what they were going to name their third child. Violet and Klaus had taken to dropping name options at every opportunity, to see if they could jog a response. Not even food-themed names could get them to talk. Mother and Father were going to make them wait until the baby was born. Which, at this rate, could take an age.

All of a sudden, Klaus cut in. “Babies can’t eat gazpacho,” he called, looking into the kitchen. “Or garlic croutons.”

Violet didn’t scowl – she thought she was much too old for scowling – but her face scrunched up, just like Mother’s had been doing. Why didn’t Klaus want to have fun anymore? It wasn’t as if they’d run out of food names. And of course babies couldn’t eat gazpacho, but that wasn’t the point.

“Perhaps Pepper will like gazpacho when they’re old enough to try it,” Father said. He scooped up the last pepper and dropped it in with the rest of the ingredients. “Klaus, stop sulking down there and get the vinegar and citrus juice for me, please.”

Violet almost thought Klaus would insist he wasn’t sulking, he seemed in that sour of a mood, but it was hard to talk back to Father. So Klaus got up from the hall, bookmarked his page with a thin slip of paper, and joined Violet and Father and Mother in the kitchen.

While Violet and Klaus bustled around, getting the remaining ingredients, Mother chopped up a scallion into little pieces with a knife. Scallions! The one thing Violet hadn’t allotted for in her invention. She’d have to make an adjustment for that, later. Mother complemented Violet’s handiwork, then helped her cross a few wires so they could use it as a regular record player too, without needing to slice or chop anything more, and the Gilberto album went on, filling the kitchen with soft saxophones and guitars. When Father and Mother had mixed everything together in the bowl, Father placed the soup in the fridge so it could chill, and then the four of them made the croutons together.

They crowded around the stove top, pressed close to Mother as she sauted the butter and garlic in a pan before tossing all the bread cubes in alongside. Klaus got to shake the pan around to coat the bread, and use the big salt grinder to sprinkle them with salt after, and he looked a little happier.

Mother and Father piled the croutons atop a cream napkin on plate. “Well, we have to try them,” Mother said. The gazpacho would take forever to chill – or at least a couple hours – but garlic croutons were considered spicy too, Violet realized, and maybe that would be enough to convince the third Baudelaire sibling to make their appearance.

“I concur,” Father said, and the four of them each took a crouton. “What do you think?” he asked over all the crunching.

“Buttery,” Klaus said.

“Toasty,” Violet said.

“Garlicky,” Father put in.

“Very garlicky,” Mother said, looking pleased, and she took another crouton, and then a handful of them. “Well done, troupe.” They stood in the kitchen, waiting and waiting, but the only thing that happened was that Violet’s feet started to get a little sore from standing. The warm summer breeze continued, and the sun was still bright in the mid-afternoon sky, and Desafinado was playing now, and Mother was still, despite everyone’s best intentions, very, very pregnant. Violet frowned; Father kissed Mother’s forehead again; even Klaus sighed.

“Maybe the gazpacho will do something,” Mother sighed, and dusted crouton crumbs from her fingers. “It’s early, but how about the two of you set the table anyway, mm?”

Klaus got the napkins, and Violet got the silverware, and they passed under the big archway between the kitchen and the dining room, filled with soft purple and blue shards of sunlight from the pieces of stained glass in the dining room windows.

“I could always try to scare you again,” Violet heard Father offer, back in the kitchen. “I’m still upset that didn’t work.”

“If you tell me you’re going to scare me, how is that going to work, Bertrand?”

“Forget I said anything – look, that’s an awfully interesting frying pan, isn’t it? What if you look at it while I go over to the other side of the kitchen and get a washcloth and on the way back, while you’re very engrossed in the pan, who knows what will happen?”

Mother started laughing. Violet and Klaus followed each other around the table, putting each place setting down a piece at a time. It was a good sized table, Violet thought. Definitely enough room to accommodate the fifth Baudelaire.

“Which end do you think the baby will sit at?” Violet asked. She thought the far end, by Mother, would be the best, so Mother was right there if they needed anything.

“Babies can’t sit up right away,” Klaus said. “It’ll be months before they can sit at the table.”

Violet knew that, but that wasn’t the point of it, either. She thought maybe she should stop waiting out Klaus in particular and just come right out and ask him. She was his older sister, and soon to be the eldest sibling out of three, and she should be able to problem-solve this like she’d problem-solved an unexciting box grater, like she’d been making the list of things to try and help Mother, like she wanted to be able to do for their new sibling. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Klaus said again. He folded the fourth napkin and set it down on the table, a little too hard. He ran his fingers over the bend in the cloth. “Do you think the gazpacho will work?”

“I hope so,” Violet said. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

Klaus shrugged. “I mean – I liked things the way they were,” he said quietly. He adjusted his glasses, then the collar of his shirt, like the way Father fidgeted sometimes. “A baby changes a lot,” he pointed out. “Mother didn’t even read her summer book, this year.”

Things had been a little different this year, Violet realized. But not in a bad way. In a fun way, of getting things ready and helping Mother and Father, and they still spent a lot of time together, all of them. But Violet hadn’t been able to go to the museum with Mother as much as other summers, and Father had spent a lot of time looking out the window with a little crease of worry in his brow, when he thought no one else was watching. They’d all have to spend a lot of time looking after the baby when it finally did arrive. They might not be able to go to the museum at all, and maybe – it struck Violet with a pang – maybe Mother wouldn’t have time to read a book with Klaus next summer, either. Things might change a lot.

“And,” Klaus continued, “what if something goes terribly, terribly wrong? Babies aren’t supposed to be late.” He glanced past Violet and back into the kitchen, and when Violet followed his gaze, she saw the book Klaus had been reading earlier placed on the counter. One of Mother’s pregnancy books that they’d all taken turns reading.

“Oh, Klaus,” Violet said. “I don’t – I was late,” she remembered. “And Mother was okay. And – ” She hesitated. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing. “We’re all still a family, aren’t we? That doesn’t change just because some other things do.”

“It feels like it,” Klaus said miserably. “I like it when things stay the same.” He wiped the side of his hand under his glasses, over each eye.

Suddenly, Violet had an idea. She reached over and put her hand on Klaus’s shoulder. “I think Brie will really like you, Klaus,” she said, trying to put on her most serious face. The corner of her mouth twitched, just as Klaus met her eyes.

It worked – Klaus started to laugh, just like Mother’s genuine laugh, a loud and bright startled sound. “You think so? Wheely?” he asked.

“Of course they’re gouda,” Violet said, giggling.

“I hear puns!” Mother called. “Bad puns!”

“Excellent job!” Father called after.

The gazpacho was delicious. Mother was still pregnant after dinner – but the gazpacho was delicious, and so were the remaining croutons, after all of them sneaking handfuls while the gazpacho chilled. And Violet and Klaus and Mother and Father sat around the table, all of them suggesting the silliest food names they could come up with, making Mother laugh until there were tears in her eyes.

Father and Violet and Klaus gathered up all the dishes and took them in trips to the kitchen, letting Mother stretch out in her chair. When Violet and Klaus came back for the glasses, Mother grabbed hold of them and pulled them down onto her lap, all of them making a little oomph noise. They were a little too big to really fit comfortably, especially with Mother’s stomach taking up most of the room on her lap, but she held Violet and Klaus so close against her.

“Let me tell you a secret,” Mother whispered, looking at Violet and Klaus. “Don’t tell your father I told you, alright? Look surprised when he tells you. But I want to tell you.” She got a look in her eyes like she’d heard every word Violet and Klaus had said before dinner. Violet thought there wasn’t a thing in the world Mother didn’t hear. “Both of you, sweetest things.”

“What is it?” Klaus asked.

Mother smiled, slow and beautiful. “Sunny,” she said. “That’s what we’re going to name her.”

#asoue #a series of unfortunate events #wicked way exchange #i will fix the dashes..........lllllllater #much like bea with sunny i had a hard time getting this to Exist. i hope it reads well and is. soft

[megamanrecut]

I was rereading season 1, which has been very fun, lots of details that stand out more with more context, but there's this one bit with Proto man that shows up more than once that's interesting.

In the first episode, Proto man tells Mega man that "Doc never got around to naming [him]... Too busy with his other inventions." Which is followed up a little during the Mega Pinocchio episode, with Proto man saying he's always been Proto (although not actually saying Dr. Light named him that, which turns out to be true), and when Mega man comments on that sounding a little cold, comments that Dr. Light is "Oblivious to details... I like Proto. It's better than Paaasd or something" (which lol)

Now that I've read the season 0 episode, it caught my eye that the name thing doesn't really get talked about there! Proto names himself very quickly, with no thought or fanfare behind it. Very fitting, but paired with the season 1 lines, I'm trying to puzzle out the incongruity of it (Proto you lying bastard why can't you be easier to understand!!!)

On one hand, if the subtle but present implication that Proto might feel bitter about his name is a retcon, it's one that I wouldn't have spotted if I hadn't reread season 0 recently. It's also just as likely that I'm reading into a set of lines that were just meant to be snarky, he definitely does that a lot too lol.

But I am curious if there's some level of truth to that sort of bitter undertone that I thought was implied! Proto man is a difficult character to understand, especially in season 1, and in general when trying to understand his feelings towards Dr. Light. Their relationship is so interesting to me, so sorry if I really did just read way too deep into it haha!

There was a slight perhaps retcon! (sorry this took awhile, limited internet access atm, also this is long/rambly lol)

I wrote season 0 waaay after season 1 (between Master of Disaster Part 2 and 3 to be exact) and in original s0 drafts, the naming thing didn’t happen as early, but when I finally began editing it that seemed unnecessarily weird/creepy for Dr. Light. So, instead the name thing came up on Proto’s activation day. Some of the emphasis around Proto’s name in S1 (particularly E1) was for dramatic irony.

So for character analysis:

Outside of that, still same deal with Dr. Light/Proto, just more focused on char divisions over specific, resolvable drama. The whole dynamic between Dr. Light and Proto has always been strained at best to total estrangement at its core, and sometimes painful to write. Dr. Light was never really in the wrong, Proto just developed into his own person that wanted nothing to do with ‘domestic human life’ or to have any type of authority figure. Its a huge philosophical difference, but its also a son who feels smothered and hopeless rejecting his loving father who tried his best to understand but could never make it work in time. That dynamic still exists, unsolved, in the good!Proto AUs (Master of Disaster Part 3, Become the Night)

Still, Proto isn’t really bitter by Dr. Light’s actions per se, he was just bitter about living under his roof where he was bored and under stimulated. Even Mega was surprised by this at first. In Mega-Pinocchio he was expecting a specific drama lead to Proto’s defection then was surprised when Proto also denied that Dr. Light really did anything wrong, and even reassured the naming thing didn’t bother him (I had already written the ‘naming’ scene in season 0, which remained unchanged, just happened earlier) It wasn’t until Future Shock when he began understanding Proto a little.

Either way tho, Proto wasn’t really bitter about his name (at least there was never intended bitter subtext there, but can be interpreted however!) I think in a way even if Dr. Light *had* given him a name (like Blues?) he would have been quick to drop that when he became Proto Man (kinda like how he thinks ‘Break Man’ is cringy in Become the Night or how Elec Man calling him ‘Light’ drives him nuts). He doesn’t really like the connection, and would prefer to have no name or a generic one over one picked for him by Dr. Light.

#questiom time #proto man #mega man #Dr. Light #season 0 #season 1 #season 2 #recut au #the beginning #mega pinocchio #future shock #master of disaster #become the night

[herzgeist-writes]

14) It Takes Two To Tango

Pairing: Law x fem!reader | Word count: 3.6k | Warnings: Cussing, suggestive content, minimal use of alcohol, TW abuse

Dividers by cafekitsune

With painstaking effort you try to keep up with your Captain who pulls you to the dancefloor downstairs. The current song is coming to an end and the dancers build up to a showdown. The people surrounding the open area cheer and clap their hands as the music stops, at the exact moment you two merge with the crowd. Law's expression is exceptionally determined and his gaze switches back and forth between the band and the dancefloor.

„Captain, you're not falling for this stranger's mockery are you?" - „Don't be ridiculous, (Y/n)-ya.", in a short and snappy reply he still holds out for the band's coming up number and slings an arm around your waist. Where is the point in this? Too many questions pop up in your mind and yet here you are, in the arms of your Captain, him intending to dance with you?

The masses around you whisper and become restless, waiting for the next act, as a small man enters the stage, calling out a proud greeting into the hall: „Señoras y señores, I am pleased to welcome you to Golden Barrel! The night only has begun and I say with great honor, we have special guest tonight." Chills run down your back as you see who is announcing the coming events. It's no other than the gangster, who has you on target since that charming first meeting you shared with him.

Your face grows pale, unfortunately your Captain notices your backlash and leans down at you: „You know this man?" - „Y-yes. He has an eye on me since I entered this place. I have a very bad feeling about him." Law furrows his brows by your statement and looks up to the man on stage again. Asking you carefully if you had met him and if he done something that left you freezing up, you nod subtly and explain lowly: „If it weren't for Roronoa, he would have taken me away to god knows where..."

It doesn't take all too long for Law to fully understand, why you decided to stick with Zoro. He saw you dance with the swordsman, when he leaned against the upper floor's railing. Just the thought of him inching in closer to you makes him want to tear this place into a million pieces and shoot them at the pirate hunter without remorse. But nonetheless, he kept you safe from the more concerning threat, which stands right up there on stage.

This man is obviously the owner of this establishment. Talking all big, wearing flashy and fancy clothes. No doubt. Could there be a possibilty that he is the source of information Law seeks? A man of his calibre looks like he can afford to sell information without getting killed, given the fact that he owns a whole bar and a team of henchmen, securing his gateways. It's a booming business, one can tell. Then this must be Alberto „Gold-Tooth" also known as „the rat". That's the man the surgeon of death wants.

„Please welcome Señor Hernandez, god of violins!", after the big announcement, the piano rumbles and rises up a dramatic melody through the hall and a violin joins in shortly after, inviting the crowd over to dance. „(Y/n)-ya, do you know how to Tango?" - „Tango?! I- kind of...I-", the Captain takes you along with him, holding your hand and turning to the open space.

„Just remember the things I told you on our way here.", he hums next to you, making you feel things you wish you wouldn't right now. In hopes, Law tries to gain the attention of the mobster, so he can have a word with him, after all this nuisance.

Swinging you onto the dancefloor a few meters away from him, you turn to face him and he holds his hand out to you, beckoning you to join this dance. The band begins to fully embrace the song's harmony and fervent beat. As you put your hand in his with hesitance, he instantly pulls you closer to him with a strong tug, so your bodies press against eachother. Taking long steps, he pushes against you. You mirror his moves just as dramatically and go backwards.

As he dips you he supports your back gently and you let yourself fall, trusting he holds you in place. Oh and how he held you. While you lean your head back into the dip, your diamond cut out cleavage gets exposed before Law's misty eyes.

Your chest heaves up and down towards him, for him to see the delicate skin between your plump breasts. Not only his thoughts, but also his heart, start to race. It's difficult not to take in the view unfolding infront of him. Thus, his hand that held yours now glides along your arm, closer to your upper body. Letting his trembling fingers hover over your torso. This gesture earns him a soft moan coming from your agape lips.

This incinerates something inside the surgeon, lifting you up to face him again. Steel orbs stare into your soul and you feel yourself shrink away from his intimidation. To your surprise, his digits grab onto the back of your thigh, and now he is the one leaning slightly backwards, letting you flow like a wave into his frame. Faces only inches away. Your leg slides up along his, as Law's fingers still hold onto your muscle.

The doctor can't help but smirk at you, seeing you following his lead: „Look at you giving in to me." - „I'm just obeying my Captain's orders." The both of you give eachother a knowing simper, with a glint of temptation and lust in your eyes. He tears you out of trance once more by straightening the stances back to your original position.

Treading sideways, you two look at the same direction your headed, your heels stepping loudly onto the wooden floor. To the rhythm of the ardent music, you come to a stop, turn your heads at eachother and he gives you a full spin in place. Feeling yourself getting excited and riled up, you let go of your inner restraints and enjoy this feverish dance.

One foot after the other you step in place elegantly, swaying your hips subtly to the beat of your shoes. Law takes back to observe your every move, seemingly savouring every curve, which crashes like a wave, and all just for him. The world around you is practically standing still. Nothing intrudes you and the Captain, this moment engulfing you entirely.

Next, your lead pushes you away, beginning a daunting stare off with you. He encircles you like a predator, looking you up and down with starving eyes. You stay on the spot, but still you find a way to glide along with the rhythm, dancing by yourself. Gracefully you let your hands explore your own body, giving of an alluring aura. Law curses under his breath, thinking: „Fuck, she's enjoying herself way too much."

With long strides he walks over to you theatrically and presses himself against you from behind. You feel the utmost care in his touches on your waist. This man casts a spell on you as he mirrors your steps, grinding along with your shaking hips. Every breath he takes you feel on your back, his chest expansion gracing onto you in his hastened air intake.

„So, do you prefer the swordsman or the doctor, Wolf?", he mumbles against your ear, tantalisingly close with his lips to your lobe. It would only take an inch until he could envelop it, letting his soft skin caress one of your most tender spots. If only he would, leaving you breathless. You lean into him, soaking in the deep vibration he sends off. Again, your hand rises up, but this time it's his head you hold on to. Nothing but pure bliss fills your heart, gliding through his raven hair. Déja-vu?

Is this even happening? It really is. Chuckling in delight after hearing his voice asking you in curiousity, you wriggle yourself out of his embrace and spin dramatically to face him, shooting your hand at him, acting as a dance move to hit him. He immediatly copies you and your palms slam onto eachother with a loud slap. Now two predators encircle one another, hand in hand. You stare into his eyes, so does he into yours.

„Why does that matter to you, doctor?" - „You have peaked my interest, remember?", you muse as he shoots the next question at you with a cocky sneer. Oh, so he can recall the teasing fight at the inn in Antra Town. It warms your heart to know he plays that kind of card against you. Fluttering your eyes at him you pull yours and his arm down and inch terribly close to his face: „What if I told you it has to be you, Snow Leopard?"

A shock wave curses through the Captain's veins by hearing those words coming from you. Uncontrollably, his hands shoot to your sides and he spins the both of you over the dancefloor, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Law realises he is trapped. Trapped in the deep pit of feelings towards you. It's unnerving, but he can't hide it from himself anymore. This admittedly pulls on his heartstrings, seeing you like this. How you keep yourself, you worrying for him, your kindness, sweetness. Your god damn appeal. Nonetheless, he still has a goal to accomplish, and he'd rather die than bring you along, possibly loosing you to the dangers ahead.

For now, it's enough to have you as a part of missions like these, though this one wasn't intented with you coming along in the first place. But it surprised him rather positively tonight, even if the thought of amputating your head off your body has crossed his mind. This dance enlightens him immensly, opening his eyes, letting him come to a point where he wished he'd never be, until now.

The music comes to a climatic finale, thus the Captain mumbles a low: „Jump!" So you do. Jumping into his embrace he twirls you a few times in the air, one arm hooked under the crook of your knee, giving you the appearance of levitating like an ethereal creature.

To the piano's and violin's abrupt stop, Law takes you along with him to the ground, making you both kneel infront of eachother as a finishing pose. Cupping your cheek with his inked hand, you do the same to him, your tiny palm pressed against his stern face. As the music fades out, the crowd grows silent around you. You only hear your Captain's strained breathing and your exhausted huffs.

Cheers and claps fill the hall and echo through all the corners. Zoro stands at the upper floor railing. He watched you dance since the beginning. A wry grin spreading over his face: „Interesting."

Clearing his throat, Law gets up on his feet and reaches out to you, offering you to help you get back on yours. The atmosphere changes as he discovers Alberto closely observing the both of you in the distance. That's right, take a good look, rat.

„Let's get going, (Y/n)-ya." - „Right behind you, Captain.", he motions you to follow him and you do as told. Tired you let out a sigh and stretch those sore muscles of yours. You can't help but chuckle softly and ponder inwardly: „Since when can he dance like that?"

The doctor on the other hand seems to be back on track again, seemingly unfazed by the show you two just delivered. But what seems on the outside, isn't what's taking place on the inside. Planning the next step to meet the mafioso, he counts the odds and lays all the cards on the table in his mind. All that while also dreaming about the dance that just took place, slightly disturbing his train of thought.

Making your way to the upper floors again, Law lets you go first, mumbling a low „After you". It makes you smile, seeing him all focused and composed. Softly you coo back at him over your shoulder: „Since when is a leader behind his subordinate?" - „A good leader always has his team's back." This gave you a warm and fuzzy feeling all over, remembering the time back when you wore his coat in Antra.

As you two reach the end of the stairs, you bring yourself to ask him a cheeky question, bumping into him: „Talking about having someone's back. That woman who pressed herself oh so snuggly against you, was she your personal waitress?" He can't bring himself to roll his eyes to that question and only musters a snort of amusement at you. „Why does that matter to you, Wolf?"

Always with the backfiring, he keeps you on your toes. Sighing softly you tell him in all honesty, that he tickles your fancy. Oh how he loved hearing that coming from your sweet voice, trembling a little in uncertainty. The Captain sneers and huffs a low chuckle. As you reach the bar counter where you met this evening, the doctor leans on it casually and you take a seat on one of the stools.

Taking in your calm energy, he soaks in your bright smile. „She was pretty, but way too noisy and bratty. I prefer the more tranquil and innocent kind." - „That's more interesting anyway. Still waters run deep, am I right?", he states while glancing at you deviously and you let your thoughts slip unguardedly. As he deciphered the words you mistakenly threw at him, he only narrows at you. It's pure entertainment for him, listening to your rambling, embarrassing yourself.

But you must be careful, or else the Captain will take advantage of that. Just like this instant for example. „Are you implying you have more to hide from me? Maybe I'll have to buy you some drinks, then perhaps you get all talkative and, how did yo call it, oh so snuggly with me?", smooth as butter his deep voice fires up your heart and unmentioned lower regions. To your luck, the fact he got to you gets vacant on your bubbly face.

You splutter in disbelief, waving it off and shaking your head, not noticing how the man inches closer to you: „Psh! That's bizzare! You would never!" - „I mean, I could, we're in a bar. So..." How you hate that man. So many cards have been played against you this evening and you don't believe he's about to stop soon. Wanting to protest you suddenly hear heavy footsteps coming your way. The Captain noticed as well: „Stay calm and just play along." - „What-"

Two men the size of bears stand behind you, asking you and Law to follow them. Of course, the doctor isn't tagging along so easily and demands an explanation why his Rendez-vouz has been disturbed. He indeed called it like that to your wonder. „Gold-Tooth wishes to talk to you and your esposa, Señor." - „What is his precise request, if you don't mind me asking?"

Annoyed, one of the two henchmen snaps at your Captain, but the other stops him in his tracks: „Perdone señor, but I believe he said it's about the señora." Law doesn't like where this is going, but he knows exactly how to avert the danger and punch the information he needs out of the rat. Hopefully you play along. With a subtle nod, he asks the men to lead the way. He takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, leaning in close to you: „Whatever happens, let me do the talking and always keep your eyes on me. This will be over before you know it, I promise."

Following down a dark corridor, engulfing you into blackness, you see a dimmed light at the end of the hallway. A giant heavy wooden door withholding the seemingly chambers of the mafioso. One of the huge men opens it and politely gives you entry. Stepping into the cold atmospheric room, a shiver runs down your spine. Nervous you take a look around you. All kinds of stuffed animals and renaissance pictures hang on the walls. In almost every corner stands a golden candle holder and the flames enlighten the scene with their unrhythmic flickers. The furniture is either made of genuine leather or solid wood, embellished with various flourishes.

It appears that the Captain preceived your uneasiness and squeezes your hand tighter. A feeling radiates coming from your chest, which you can't fully put a finger on what it actually is.

„Ah, mi amigo! I see you made it!", the small man gets out of his throne like oversized chair which stands on the other side of the room behind an enormous desk, greeting you with open arms. As the rat's eyes land on you, it automatically freezes your blood in place, so he continues: "And I see you brought your hermosa mujer with you. Te envidio." - "Es mi prometida, Diente de Oro". The mafioso is taken aback by his own native tongue coming from your Captain. You as well are astounded and try your hardest not to be too obvious about your amazement.

Laughing at him with a deep rumble in his voice, Alberto takes his place next to the tall doctor and pats his back: "Took me by surprise, you surprise me mi compadre. Can I offer you cigar? Perhaps wine, have a fine vintage in the house." So far so good, the gangster doesn't realise who he's offering a drink to, it makes you tremble to the core. Law shows his gratitude by nodding at the small man: "A wine will do, I stopped smoking for my fiancée, since she didn't like it. Got to give in to them once in a while." Almost choking your head lifts up to him in hyperspeed. Did he just call you fiancée? Is that what he said in that foreign language? Calm down. Be cool, you are playing a role here.

Let's just ignore the fact, that your acting skills haven't completely matured yet. The only thing you could muster is a overly sweet chuckle to his comment, as you hug his arm and squeeze yourself smoothly against him. You feel the Captain's body stiffen to your touch, like you're about to rip off his limb or of sorts. This is not what he expected, though he instructed you to play along.

Once more, Gold-Tooth rumbles while huffing on his cigar, asking for the doctor's name in all earnesty, while preparing the drink. The man next to you takes a moment, before he answers: "Travers Lawrence." Hearing him say this obviously altered version of his real name, you struggle to keep in a giggle. Cold steel orbs stare you down, nearly threatening you to stay quiet, or else. Pressing your lips together as a fine line, you mute your childish behaviour.

"Laurencio! From hombre to hombre si? Be careful with your muchacha.", Alberto's voice booms, pointing a fleeting finger at you as he hands over the tall glas of wine to Law. A thick cloud of smoke wafts against your face, for the mafioso explains to your Captain, how he observed you being with the swordsman, even going into explicit details as you were practically jumping into the green haired man's lap out of fear. Your "fiancée" lifts an eyebrow at you, giving you a tense cocky smirk: "Ah, si? Qué lástima."

This isn't supposed to turn you on, but gods does that make you swallow hard when he speaks a foreign tongue. You learned to never question his intelligence quite early, he withholds alot of surprises, which makes him even more dangerous. "Follow me, viejo", the Gold-Tooth demands your Captain as he leads him away from you.

The two men engage in a discussion that becomes increasingly heated after a while. Words like "chica" and "price" are the only things you can pick up from the conversation, the rest is unintelligible, but it doesn't take a genius to debunk this subject. Your eyes are fixated on the doctor, who's body language tells everything. This is all according to his plan. Trafalgar Law, you son of a gun, you spell in your mind as you shake your head incredulously.

The mafioso slips behind his desk and rummages in a cupboard, fishing out a yellowed old pergament scroll. "These are coordinates to Punk Hazard. Now to payment?", Alberto furrows at Law, making a beckoning gesture with his one hand. Your Captain turns to you and pushes you into the gangster's direction, whispering a "Eyes on me" after you.

Bumping into the desk you look back at the doctor in terror. His gaze softens, mellow steel orbs seemingly trying to calm you down. "There she is." - "Laurencio, am glad doing business with you, mi amigo.", the mobster gets up, leans over the table and grabs you by your chin. A malicious grin spreading over him, which disgusts you tremendously. "She will be fine addition to my collection.", the small man muses. In the corner of your eye you see Law taking the scroll, opening it to read the information on it.

Suddenly the mafioso decides to go full on rampage on you, pulling you closer to him, calling you names and praising your appearance. Trying to touch you in places you cringe away from, holding in a cry of fear, all while you see the Captain standing in the corner, rage overcoming him. A light blue hue hovers over your frame, could that mean? The rat looks up at him questioningly: "Is there anything more I can do for you, Señor Travers?"

#one piece #one piece law #trafalgar one piece #law x female reader #law x fem!reader #x reader #law x y/n #fanfiction #fanfic fluff #beautiful mind #18+ #+18 conent #suggestive #tw abuse

[tarnishedinquirer]

Location: Murkwater Catacombs.

On the high west bank of the Murkwater River, I discovered another statue of that psychopomp figure, this time pointing almost straight down. I had noticed this area after talking to Yura and intended to check it out later, but I have a long, long list of things to check out later. It's good to have a specific reason.

I hopped on Torrent and used a convenient spirit spring to get down, but I landed right in the middle of a small horde of skeletons. I think I might be close to finding the source of these things, at least locally. Naturally, this area was just about carpeted with corpses, all sinking and dissolving into the muck.

The one corpse that wasn't dissolving was sitting cross-legged on a rock, clutching a poisonbloom in its hands. I'm starting to notice a pattern with these guys. Nobles and long-necks alike, the ones I find in relative peace seem to be holding plants. Rowa fruit, poisonbloom, arteria leaves, and a host of others. It's like they just sat down and died, flowers in hand. The way death is broken here, they might not even technically be dead, just... stopped.

The ones sinking into the swamp here? They're definitely dead.

Along with the skeletons I also ran into some of those bone oozes, which are starting to make a lot more sense too. I guess if everything gets too mixed up and you can't raise as a skeleton, you just gather up some of the bloody, rotten muck and become an ooze instead.

Strange thing, towards the end of the ravine, the river just stopped. Not that it was a particularly impressive river to begin with, more like a swamp rolling downhill, but just stop like that? Another example of how unnatural and broken this world is. The river must go underground before emerging here, which makes for a uniquely terrible place to build a catacomb. Even though the catacomb was on dry land, I imagine if this river ever floods, it must wash out the whole thing. It'd be a wonder if any bodies are left in there.

It was definitely damper than the Stormfoot catacombs. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, dripping mineral-rich water. The floor had mostly turned to mud, but the gargoyles were still lively, the traps were still active, and the ghostflame torches still burned.

As expected, there were very few if any intact corpses down here. Despite their best efforts to shore things up with iron bars, the alcoves were empty, their occupants long since either floated away on floodwaters or climbed out on bony legs.

I was also struck by just how small this one was. It had a similar setup to Stormfoot Catacomb, with a lever opening a large ornate door leading to the actual Erdtree Roots, but while I had to go hither and yon to find that lever in Stormfoot, here it was pretty much a straight shot from the entrance. And from there, just go back and take a left turn to get to the door. Just one corridor with a single side passage. Maybe some of it collapsed due to flooding, but I didn't see anything.

This must've been a less prestigious catacomb. The people buried here didn't get the same respect as those buried at Stormfoot.

In the final chamber, I was expecting another watchdog. Instead, I was confronted by a hulking figure in a hooded cloak. He threw the cloak off dramatically as I approached, and attacked me with two great hammers on chains. He seemed to be styled after the great gladiators of old, or, given how things work here, perhaps he really was one.

When I sent the ancient warrior to his rest, he dropped spirit ashes that the voice informed me belonged to Banished Knight Engvall. I'll transcribe its words as best I can, because they're very interesting.

One of the two knights dubbed the Wings of the Storm. Despite his banishment, he rejected the invitation of the Grace-Given Lord, instead keeping watch over a masterless castle for many years, gaining renown as a hero of the fringes.

Lots of information here. Someone called the "Grace-Given Lord" tried to recall knights who had been banished back to service. This guy was one of the greatest, and he had a partner. Instead of joining and restoring his honor, he kept watch over a "masterless castle" and became a hero to "the fringes."

Well, if he's buried here, then it stands to reason that this is "the fringes." If the capitol is way over where the Erdtree is, then this certainly feels like the fringe. And the only castle here is Stormveil. So there was a time when the castle was abandoned, before being occupied by Godrick. Perhaps that's what Kenneth Haight meant by "hid from Radahn in that castle"? Maybe it wasn't even his castle, but he declared himself lord of it anyway. Regardless, Ingvall must've been a beloved figure, if an ancient gladiator would spend eternity guarding his ashes in a constantly flooding catacomb.

Lots of new info about this land and its master.

Who is the other Wing of the Storm?

Did Godrick kill Engvall to claim the castle?

When did this happen? (relative to other events)

Why was Stormveil abandoned to begin with?

#elden ring #elden ring lore #in character #in character blog #in character post #let's play

[ethecookednoodle]

Imma be honest, I wasn't sure if I was gonna do a post about my classpect choices for my TrigunxHomestuck AU but I kept rereading Homestuck and started thinking about things and thought "why the hell not?"

Also @stuck-in-the-ghost-zone and @anachronistic-falsehood tags kept going around my head since I saw them, so this is partially because your tags were very nice thank u guys <3

All that being said, this is just gonna cover Vash and Knives because turns out tired as shit me has a lot to say and no self control so I wrote a lot and if I got into why I made Meryl and Wolfwood's classpects what they are in my AU this was gonna be way too damn long, so I'm cutting it.

Anyway, whole ass essay under the keep reading. Keep in mind I wrote this last night when I was very tired and with a raging headache (still haven't recovered from that) so this might be a bit ✨dramatic✨(and also a bit of a character analysis because, like I said, I had a lot to say but not a lot of self control.)

To begin with, I guess the reason I put Knives and Vash as the Lord of Time and Muse of Space respectively has to do with the fact that they remind me of Calliope and Caliborn for obvious reasons. They're twins of an alien species which, while not extinct per se, they're very much alone since either the other members of their species are not quite like them or, in Calliope and Caliborn's case, they are the only one's of their species in a good, universe-sized radius, among other things I’ll get to later.

But aside from that there's the fact that…I don't really see, or can't see, Vash as a Hope player. Like, sure, he's all about hope and believing in a bright future but Hope players have a very black and white way of thinking (see: Eridan and Jake). And Vash doesn’t really see things that way, he's very much aware that there are layers to the issues between humans and plants, but his insistence doesn't just come from a blind hope that maybe things will work themselves out if he believes hard enough. His insistence comes from the fact that he has spent a good amount of his 150 years of life going around No Man's Land and realizing that yes, humans are stupid and can hurt others just for the sake of hurting people, but the vast majority of them that hurt people do it because they've been cornered and are really out of options in the department of survival (see: Wolfwood, Rosa, and pretty much any petty bandit, since they’re not really out for murder but out for fucking money because they gotta eat), and that even if there are people who go out of their way to hurt others for funsies, there's just as much people out there willing to help others out (Meryl, Luida, Brad (even if he’s a prick at the beginning), Rem). It's all about circumstances and Vash knows this, he just acts dumb as a coping mechanism. Him believing things can work out comes from a place of tribute towards Rem and the knowledge that there is a way things can get better as long as it is given the time and space to be worked on (pun not intended). His vision is nuanced and his feelings towards what his brother does are complicated because he knows he has a reason to act the way he does.

Knives either knows there are layers and doesn't care or he hasn't let himself think about them, because otherwise it would shatter his idea that there's only one true ultimate villain (humanity) that must be defeated in order to attain peace, which the latter is what probably goes through his mind. And this is oversimplifying his point of view, because his disregard of human issues come from the fear of seeing Tesla's body all fucked up by humans on a relatively peaceful environment and thinking that if he doesn’t do something quick they might be next, or more specifically, that Vash will be next. If anything, Knives actually fits better as a Hope player than Vash does. He believes plants to be superior and humans the trash of creation, and thus, he must do what’s right in order to protect what he loves. It might also be because all of the Hope players we see also have this…weird way of seeing themselves as the greatest heroes in their fucked-up/stupid stories, and also because two of them are big, self absorbed assholes. Even Jake is his own kind of self absorbed asshole. One would argue that could be said of Vriska and Meenah as well, but the difference is that they actually have ground to stand on. They say they’re the shit not just for the sake of saying it, they can actually back up that claim. What I’m trying to say is that Knives sees himself as a savior to his species while failing to see that in the process he’s hurting the one person he swore to protect while also subjecting the plants and his brother to become a means to producing his “paradise”, essentially enslaving them, just as humans would have done. And if he does see it, then he justifies it by saying “there’s no other way.” Which, to be honest, reminds me a lot of Eridan in the sense that he, as the Prince of Hope, decided all hopes of beating Jack and bringing back their people were lost, so he decided to destroy the matriorb and go on a murderous rampage. It’s a very “all or nothing” mentality, which is exactly what happens with Knives. He fails to see (or decides no to see) the layers and the nuance of the situation and refuses to listen to any kind of argument against his belief. Because, let’s be real for a hot second here, when was the last time Knives really tried to hear Vash out instead of brushing him off and telling him he’s being delusional/he’s sick and needs to wake up? And by the time he actually listens to Vash when they’re flying up into space, it’s in this high-stress, very emotional moment because he’s trying not to blow a city up. But I digress. 

All that being said, I don’t really think the Hope aspect fits Knives either. 

The reason I think Time and Space fit the twins so much is because of the fact that the aspects seem to encompass the rest to some extent. They’re, to quote the wiki, “the two basic fabrics of reality” which means that without them, nothing else can exist. It’s why every successful Sburb session needs to have a Time and Space player. And if you think about it, it makes sense. For example, Space seems to be similar to the Hope aspect in the sense that their players have a very strong hold on their beliefs, they also resemble the Light aspect because their players also seem to be very knowledgeable (to some extent, i.e: the messages in the clouds in Skia and how Space players seemed to be the ones that paid the most attention to them) about stuff other aspects are not, and of course, it also has a strong relationship with the Life aspect, since it’s the Space player’s duty to breed and care for the frog that will eventually become the new universe in which life will proliferate (and not to mention, all space players have been somewhat related to life, with Jade being a botanist, Kanaya and Porrim being in charge of bringing back trollkind and Calliope being fascinated by the lives of other beings (i.e: trolls and humans) in general, despite her kind being extremely asocial). And the same can be said of the Time aspect: it’s related to death, this of course being a direct relation to the Doom aspect, the Time and Heart aspect seem to share this ability to become splintered (one with time loops and the other via soul splinters), and even though it’s more of a reach, you could say Time and Rage have relation because of the fact that both seem to be related to destruction (although the instances we’ve seen the aspect being used are by destructive classes, that’s why I say it’s more of a reach). I put very specific things as examples, but with the exception of the life and death thing (and maybe the Heart aspect thing), I think the things the Time and Space aspects encompass of other aspects are on a spectrum, and may even vary from player to player.

Obviously, all of the above is more my personal speculation than anything else, but that aside, now that I finally got to the point in my re-read of Homestuck where I’m reacquainted enough with Calliope that I understand why I think her and Vash are similar. And wouldn’t you guess it, it has to do with the fact that they were hoping for their brothers to change. Like, to be fair, in Calliope’s case, she was straight-up lying to herself, but again, to be fair, this stemmed from the fact that she had hope the game would help them understand each other and…well, you can see where I’m going with this. Vash hoped his brother would change, even if deep down he knew he wouldn’t, or at the very least, he wouldn’t change without things going south first. And it wasn’t until things started to go very south where they, both Calliope (the version that overpowered Caliborn) and Vash decided it was enough and sprung into action. I am well aware that the brother thing can also be applied to Knives and to his situation, but you get what I’m saying. 

If I wanted to go through the Caliborn and Knives comparison, then I would point out that Knives, as far as I can tell, was never squeamish about killing (at least not after the Tesla incident), and sees it as something necessary in order to make sure his plans come to fruition. That being said, I think the other thing I would point out is how driven he is. To quote the wiki yet again, Time players “value action over passive acceptance” and “tend to value the destination over the journey”, and what is Knives if not someone with a huge drive to make his dreams of a peaceful paradise for him, his brother and the rest of his kind come true, even it comes at the expense of the human race and the happiness, free will and general freedom of his brother and his kind. Since day one he’s been scheming and finding ways to make things happen, and I don’t know about you guys, but I think at the very least the amount of research he put on to Vash’s powers and how to unlock his gate despite how unbelievably limited the data on Independents were, without actually having Vash captive for 150 to study him is very impressive (and kind of (very) scary). But that’s where the similarities with them end, at the end of the day Knives is 1000 times smarter than Caliborn (and more likable, even if he’s a genocidal maniac). I just think that Knives possesses a lot of the qualities that make up a Time player, and him being a Master Class is because both Vash and Knives are stupidly powerful.

In the end, I guess it’s because the duality of both Vash and Knives’ ideals and personalities can be perfectly encompassed by the duality of the Time and Space aspects. 

(And also because I thought of a great scene between Vashwood and the image has been ingrained in my brain to such a degree that I refuse to change the classpects to something else. It’s like 50% all those things I said 50% gay stuff, ngl.)

Anyway stay tuned for the “why did you make Wolfwood the Knight of Doom and Meryl the Rouge of Light” post. It’ll hopefully be a lot shorter and less convoluted lol. 

#this is the longest post i have ever writen and of course it's fucking homestuck (and trigun but that one's new in my brain) #trigun #homestuck #homestuck au #trigunxhomestuck au #classpect #vash the stampede #millions knives #this is seriously long as shit

[mirum-wonder]

MARCH OF ROBOTS...

MARCH OF SHMOBOOTS...

MARCH OF WHAT EVER... 🤖😱💀

After a week of exhausting day job with overtimes and sometimes even with a lack of time for a lunch break I observed myself being not capable of finding time to work on more robots designs for this years March of robots and seeing that I started to feel very disappointed in myself for not being capable to keep up with the pace of other artists posting robot arts daily or almost daily... while I'm not finding time to finish the so called SHADOW prompt thing (SHADOW - that's a prompt name from their official prompt list, you'll find it below) 😔

As you may notice it's far from finished and many things will change in the final version.

But now then I think about it, if I was doing quick sketches or something more simple looking, perhaps more silly or even cartoony perhaps I would find time to make it daily, but I wanted to do more polished arts for march of robots. I really like to do all those details, cables, joints and pistons trying to make my robots in a specific way thinking about how arms, legs and other parts will bend or turn in the final version, although I'm not an engineer or a mechanic I really find a very vast plain for self improvement in projects like that making all those mechanical parts and thingies detail by detail I'm trying to practice my conceptual skills and evolve in it at least a bit. Mostly I'm trying to make my finalised robots in the way that I could pose or rigg the whole thing later to make them look more dramatic and expressive in final pictures 🤖

But unfortunately it takes more time than I can spend combining it with a social obligations and a day time job... So where things got out of hands? I went to official march of robots instagram to check out the date on the post when they announced the prompt list for this years MOR2023 🤖

Booom! Turned out that I'm a slowpoke... I remembered about the challenge that takes place during March only the day the March started 🤪 No sh*t Im not keeping up with the pace 🙄 If I wanted to make arts the way I intended them to be, then I should start working on arts since day one after they anounced the prompt list, I would had an extra month of time to make some arts before the March starts 😅⌚🤖 But unfrotunetelly that was my first ever try to participate in a online art challenge and now I learend one big lesson... If I want to participate in somethimg like that next time then I shold start doing arts in advance as aerly as possible since the info about the challenge usually gets to be announced some time prior the challange itself... So...yeah... the more you know 😭 but any way... I decided to stop trying to catch up with the March Of Robots 2023 challenge pace, that would be healthy for me since for the scope of work I'm already month late. Sure thing I'll finish this Shadow prompt guy here and make an artwork with it, and perhaps I'll do few more artworks for the prompt list but that's basically it 🤖 Oh... and also there are some old robot artworks of mine that are laying around on my hard drive waiting for a good occasion to be published... So I think I'll post some of them this month... cuz you know...it's march and I have some old robots 😅

But the good news are is that I'm not done with online art challenges. I have made my research on this topic and googled out all the potential dates challenge themes out there to see if I can find something interesting and suitable for me. And yeh... It appears almost all year different art challenges are happening all over the internet and on different platforms. For example apart from all known INKTOBER there is KAIJUNE and KAIJULY (a fun challenges where you make/draw giant Kaiju monsters) 🐲🦖🕷️ cool huh? And many more...

I do not know If I will take part in those 2 particularly but I decided to give a try to join in to another art challenge that is coming soon... it's not started yet but it can/will start any day now (specific date is not announced yet) and yet again I found out about it later then I should have and I'm already risking to run out of time if it will start for example tomorrow, but since the official start of the challenge was not yet announced maybe I have few extra days before the start to make few artworks in advance 😁 At least I'm hoping so since I already started to make something for that challenge... Something BIG... And I hope I'll get better luck posting ~30 artworks for a whole month this time 😁😂😅

I wonder if someone is even reading my stuff? 🤔

#marchofrobots2023 #artist of tumblr #concept art #digital art #sci fi #blender modeling #blender art #blender3d #blender #3dart #3dartist #concept artist #digital artist #cyberpunkart #mirum wonder art #mirum wonder #artist on instagram #artists on tumblr #cyberpunk #original content #original art