#there's also a drawing in here somewhere.

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 4

Last episode ended with Simon coming home to a smashed window, this episode starts the morning after, Simon takes the bus to school, while Wilhelm is anxiously waiting for him.

Culture: At a high school level in Sweden, there's national tests in Swedish, English, and Math. Like everywhere else, the purpose of these tests is not only to grade students, but to align all schools across the country to combat grade inflation.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent is trying to cheat by looking at Nils' answers.

Blink and you miss it: Vincent draws a dick in the gravel while waiting for the others to be done with the test.

Subtext: This entire episode is overflowing with examples of privilege. For Vincent, and many other rich kids like him, studying and learning doesn't matter, they'll graduate regardless, so he doesn't care about the exam, he only cares about the graduation party.

Cinematography: Even with Felice and friends being completely blurred out in the background, you can still see Stella and Fredrika turning to look at Sara, and then turning their backs on her.

Culture: In the US, a lot of people are using "socialism" as a catch-all phrase which means politics they don't agree with, regardless of its actual ideology. Likewise, in Sweden, a lot of people use "communist" in the same way about generally left-wing politics, which is what Vincent is doing here.

Subtext: Wilhelm asks Simon if he can reconcile the conflict of dating a royal while being anti-monarchy, but the real question is of course if Wilhelm can reconcile the conflict in himself.

Subtext: This is where the show's political stance shines through, and this argument, that Wilhelm wasn't allowed to choose his life for himself, is the main argument they're gonna use in the finale.

Subtext: Wilhelm is weakly defending the monarchy, but just ends up repeating what his mother told him; it's a privilege, not a punishment, but does he believe it himself?

Subtext: The letter-to-yourself plot is mainly there in order to help August along his redemption arc, but here the show is using it to reinforce the point of the previous scene. Who does Wilhelm want to become? Does he have a choice?

Culture: In Sweden, Säkerhetspolisen, SÄPO, is the government agency in charge of national security, which includes providing security and assigning bodyguards to the royal family.

Subtext: Note the great use of passive voice here by Farima to avoid taking responsibility for the decision to force August to join the birthday foundation event. She's also expertly bargaining with Wilhelm to get what she wants.

Subtext: We know it was the far-right assholes who posted comments to Simon's videos a couple of episodes ago.

Blink and you miss it: Jan-Olof really perks up when Linda talks about moving to Gothenburg, because that would probably mean the end to the relationship between Wilhelm and Simon, which would solve all of his current problems.

Subtext: Like Farima, he bargains with Linda and Simon to get what he wants, for Simon to stop posting things to social media. It's almost as if their strategy was to do nothing at the start, waiting for things to blow up so they could swoop in, help out, and start making demands in exchange...

Blink and you miss it: The option to inactivate and hide your social media account is right there, but of course Simon has to choose to delete everything, because it will cause more drama and anguish.

Blink and you miss it: Fencing! Woohoo! I did fencing for five years as a kid until 8th grade or something, but I only did foil, and not épée like these students. I have absolutely no idea where these two are coming from or going to though, where would they practice? Is there a hidden fencing hall somewhere on the grounds that we haven't seen yet? How many kids at Hillerska are fencing? Also, he's carrying a practice blade and not an electric competition blade, so that checks out. Of the three types of modern fencing, épée is unique in that the entire body counts as a valid target, while in foil only the torso counts, and in sabre only the upper half counts. Oh wow, it looks like the gear is now wireless and every fencer carries their own indicator lights. Cool! Back in my day you had to be strapped in with a cord for competitions.

This tumblr is now about French School fencing. Allez! Touché!

Subtext: The narrative is that it's perfectly ok for the crown prince to be gay, as long as he's not gay gay.

Culture: The show keeps saying this, but in real world Sweden it's no longer the case. Supporting los jibbities is viewed as a completely mainstream and inoffensive opinion, on par with supporting human rights in general.

Subtext: Another example of privilege is being in a position to do a lot of good, and then just not caring about it. Simon is fighting for the causes he believes in, so seeing Wilhelm just casually throw it away is extremely disappointing for him.

Subtext: Unlike Vincent, August is actually a natural leader, someone people listen to, which is why he manages to quiet down the room when Vincent is unable to. Maybe a good quality in a future king?

Subtext: Simon is continuing the argument from before. Wilhelm could have shown solidarity with mental health causes or LGBT causes, but chose not to. However, he immediately decided to join in solidarity with the other rich kids protesting the school rules, which is rather selfish.

Subtext: Colour theory! Sara in purple, because part of the reason she's back at school is that August asked her to? And Simon in yellow, because he sure isn't loving Wilhelm very much right now.

Subtext: Just a reminder that Sara has actually been completely out of the loop since the end of season 2. She has no idea about the school rules, what's happened at home, how it's going with Simon and Wilhelm, or what's happening at school.

Blink and you miss it: Fredrika is so close to stop striking as soon as she's threatened with repercussions.

Subtext: I keep hammering this point home: The culture is in the walls, it's not something some of the kids made up. The visiting alumni were also hazed as new students and kept it going as third years. Same for the parents of all these kids. They're all part of the system, they all kept the cycles of abuse going, because they want the school to be like that.

Subtext: Privilege is thinking you can get things your way with almost no effort. None of these kids have ever struggled or protested something for real and then not been given what they wanted, so they seriously believed they'd win immediately.

Subtext: Another theme of this season is bringing secrets out in the open. We've all seen August struggling with body dysmorphia and an eating disorder since season 1, but no-one has ever called it out and put words on it, until Simon immediately recognizes it and calls it out.

Subtext: ...while the rich kids are just stuck in denial, because eating disorders is for poor people or something, it's not something that happens to them. And if it did, you certainly wouldn't admit it to anyone else.

Subtext: August tries to jokingly fend off Nils because he doesn't want anyone to know that the letter actually meant something to him, until Nils pushes too hard, and August punches him.

Subtext: Vincent talked a big game about striking in solidarity, but when they're caught as hilariously unprepared as they are, they're not pooling their resources in solidarity with each other, and instead resort to selling them to the highest bidder. Capitalism in a nutshell, illustrated perfectly by the behaviour of spoiled rich kids. Also, pet peeve, the English word for the currency of Sweden is "kronor", not "crowns".

Lost in translation: They're actually repeating a single word in Swedish, "svikare", which is pretty hard to translate. The verb, "svika", is a bit worse than letting someone down, but not as bad as betraying someone. The adjective, "besviken" typically means disappointed. So "svikare" means a person who is letting other people down, disappointing them, or betraying them.

Subtext: The culture is in the walls of the place, but the kids are also pretty damn complicit in continuing all the shitty traditions. This looks like a game of strip poker or truth or dare that went off the rails and just resulted in more bullying, with everyone joining in.

Subtext: The other girls are upset with Felice because she broke the code. You don't snitch to outsiders, you don't tell the truth, you keep up appearances.

Blink and you miss it: Henry won the potato chip auction, happily ate the entire bag, and passed out in a chair, clutching the bag. Mmmm, sourcream and onion.

Subtext: Speaking of closing ranks towards the outside, this also applies to this strike. It would be bad PR for the school if anyone outside found out that it happened, so it's better to solve it quietly and discreetly. Vanessa can trust the kids not to snitch. Vincent is also right, the parents, who are paying the tuition fees, are on their side.

Subtext: Felice can't be seen talking to Sara, so she checks that the coast is clear, and then drags Sara into a private bathroom to have their conversation.

Subtext: Likewise, Sara was probably Felice's first real friend.

Subtext: Nice little foreshadowing. I would have loved seeing Simon's drawing though!

Subtext: Well, he could have just made his social media private, but the show has to maximize the drama, so here we are, piling on more examples of how Simon is losing himself to the monarchy, that maybe he can't reconcile the conflict.

Subtext: Erik spent three years living at Hillerska, of course he wouldn't have told his then twelve year old kid brother about all the shit going on at the school. August spent an entire year living with Erik at the school, seeing what went on first hand, so of course he knows a side of Erik that Wilhelm doesn't.

Subtext: August has been trying to keep his mouth shut and avoid Wilhelm, but since they have yet another fight, he decides to drop the bomb about Erik to hurt Wilhelm.

Subtext: Again, the culture is in the walls. This is not something that only Erik's class did, once. It's probably been happening to all the boys for decades. It happened to the current second-year students, it happened to Erik, and lots of students before him who kept this shitty initiation tradition going.

Culture: Let's talk about the gay porn hazing a bit more. To me, this is an urban legend. I heard about it when I was a teenager back in the 90's, but I don't personally know anyone it happened to, or anyone who did it to anyone else. It was always hearsay, it happened to a friend of a friend's brother, or a classmate's cousin's friend or something similar, as is typical of urban legends.

Let's also make one thing absolutely clear: It doesn't work. The homophobic idea behind this shit is that if you are forced to watch gay porn and get a boner, you are gay, and if you don't, you're straight. But that is actually not true, erections don't work that way, and the fear of being found out is quite the boner killer. Also, what if you like guys, but the guys in the porno aren't your type? There's just so many ignorant misconceptions behind this idea.

I've also seen a lot of fan comments that keep playing into this ignorance; that the only reason Nils decided to stop the tradition was because he obviously failed it. Or that the only reason August is against it is because he failed, and the only reason he failed is because he's secretly not straight. No. Remember that the test doesn't work. Nils probably passed, despite actually being gay. August might have failed, despite being completely straight. Regardless of what happened, they both found it humiliating, and that is why they made a pact to stop it.

#young royals #young royals subtext #young royals analysis #young royals season 3

[yumeka-sxf]

I try to stay away from negative topics, but after hearing talk on social media yesterday and seeing this post from @such-a-downer, I just had to give my two cents about the complaints regarding yesterday's chapter being "another short mission" and that Endo is somehow being "lazy" or whatever.

I honestly don't understand this mentality of criticizing manga-ka, or any artists really, because they aren't delivering by whatever standards you personally think are appropriate. To me, it just seems like entitlement because Endo has no obligation to cater to any specific fan's wants. This is his story to tell the way he wants, and his characters to develop at the pace he deems fit. This isn't a business contract where we're paying him to deliver content we want every two weeks without fail. If I'm consuming the fruits of someone's creative labor for free, I certainly feel no right to complain if sometimes their content isn't what I wanted or expected. I'm fine with that because 1) I know it's what they (the creator) wanted/needed at the time, and 2) even if a particular chapter wasn't my cup of tea, I know other fellow fans out there somewhere are enjoying the heck out of it, and that's cool!

We also have to remember that SxF is basically a one-man show. If Endo is busy or sick or whatever, it's not like he can have someone fill in for him to write and draw the series. That's what a hiatus is for, that's what making a short chapter instead of a longer one is for...that's how artists should be treated so they don't get burned out and stressed. Plus, art shouldn't be rushed. Any artist knows that there are times when you have trouble coming up with ideas and maybe need a little extra time to develop a more complex section of the story. To immediately jump to conclusions that he's lazy or doesn't know what he's doing is ridiculous. Maybe he didn't feel good for a few days, maybe he's been busy with other SxF events, maybe he just needed more time to get a particular future arc developed, or maybe he just has basic IRL obligations to take care of like we all do...you don't know what's going on in his life, so don't make assumptions.

Another thing to keep in mind is that it's literally impossible to please every fan. One of the comments I read for example, someone was ready to drop the series because we haven't seen much of Yor in "a while." All I could think of was "didn't she just have a pretty big role only four chapters ago when they went to the ski resort?" Plus she was the star of chapter 91, which was less than ten chapters ago. So according to this person's standards, four chapters without seeing a particular character is "too long"? What if it was only three chapters, would that be acceptable? It's not right to push our own personal standards of a series' pacing as the "correct" way: some people want to see more of character X while someone else wants to see more of subplot Y, so should both complain that the manga-ka isn't doing right whenever they focus on something else? I'm not saying you shouldn't make criticisms of a manga-ka's work, but the criticisms should come from within the narrative itself, not superficial things like chapters focusing on subplots/characters you don't want to see or not having enough "plot-advancing" content when it's not a plot-focused series.

People who have read SxF up to this point should know the general flow of the chapters: mostly slice-of-life episodic, with more plot-heavy, intense arcs once in a while, like the cruise arc and bus arc. It's an ensemble series that spends most of its chapters focused on at least one of the Forgers, but occasionally other characters here and there. That's how the series has been for years and will likely continue to be. So if you keep complaining because you only like the dramatic story arcs and not the "nothing happens" episodic chapters, then maybe the series just isn't for you. It's totally fine if that's the case, but don't act like Endo is doing something wrong because he's not providing the particular thing you want in his story.

To summarize, Endo has no obligation to cater to particular fans' standards, just as we have no obligation to keep reading his work if we don't like it. But being a fan to me means respecting the creator's pace and vision even if it's not always what I personally want. I can find something to enjoy in every chapter because I'm a fan of SxF, not a fan of one particular aspect of it. But I also will not complain every time my tastes aren't being catered to and will simply occupy myself with other things while I wait. What's the big hurry, after all? I'm in no rush for SxF to wrap up its plot and I'm glad Endo isn't rushing either.

And that's all I'm gonna say about this topic, lol. On a happier note, I'm going to finally see Code White on Thursday! 😁 More to come later~

#spy x family #sxf #spy family #spyxfamily #sxf manga #sxf manga spoilers #sxf spoilers

[dilutedconfusion]

A Moth to a Flame

Eustass Kid x F!Reader (Part 5)

Summary: It’s the morning after. Not the kind of morning where you wake up in somebody else’s bed but the kind where you’re wounded and in a cot. Kid is feeling bad. You’re feeling bad. Let’s see how the two of you handle the wretched ‘what happened last night’ conversation.

Warnings: Mentions of blood & broken bones

Word Count: a blasphemous 9k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tags: @st4rfevrr @archangelshavethetardis @likeeliterallywtf @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @tulipps-maehem @thesnailus @shamblespirate @gabi-moureira @ferretsqueen

A kaleidoscope of colors took up your worldview.

Swirling in an endless grace of sweet blues, deep rich greens, and soft mellow browns. None of them were very recognizable shape-wise. Each was holding something akin to maybe a building floating on its axis or a flower harshly bent at the stem. Either way, you didn’t care.

Eyes heavy with every tear you had ever cried in your lifetime somehow pressed against your pupil. The world cast ripples in your vision until they slowly turned into something more recognizable. Something that felt like home.

Or at least a very small portion of it.

“Just stay here. Don’t make a sound no matter what you hear okay?”

Your Dad's voice floated towards you warm and reassuringly like it always was. Soft eyes followed by his large hand reaching out to hold yours. Your round eyes blinked trying to see him. See him past the water ripples clouding your vision. You felt a warm liquid slide softly down your cheeks before the rippling water gave way.

“Pumpkin, it's okay. We’ve practiced this, remember? Nothing to be worried about, I'll come get you when it’s over.”

You were somewhere mostly dark. The walls were tight and small around you. Your father bent down on one knee, looking into the small wooden cave you reside in. A bright light behind him filtered through his hair softly. Looking down you felt his big hand tighten around your rather small one. Small and soft like it was new to the world. You squeezed his hand back with what little strength you had, urging him not to leave you alone again for just this once.

“D-Dad don’t leave me.” With each word that slipped past your tongue, it sputtered out messily. Your voice was high-pitched and whiny. Desperately wanting to just claw onto the man in front of you so he wouldn’t have the chance to leave. But you also supposed that he was holding onto your hand so tight so that you couldn’t move. So you couldn’t fight to stay with him.

“Baby we’ve been through this I can’t-” a loud rousing of yells erupted from nearby. The piercing sounds of gunfire broke any sense of peace. Each shattering echo made you flinch violently with every draw. Your father turned his head off to the left, eyes trained carefully at something in the room before he looked back at you. All that reassuring love once smeared on his face was gone. Instead that dreaded worry had replaced it.

He let go of your hand quickly. Bringing his hand closer to his torso so you didn’t have a chance to grip him. “I need to go. Stay here. Be silent. Don’t come out unless you hear our secret knock.”

You barely even heard him when he spoke. Barely even processed anything that was happening. All you could hear was your heartbeat twitching in your ears and the sounds of yelling outside.

It made a lump form in your throat. Lunging to either wail or scream or do something. To just do anything but you remained silent. That look in your father's eyes wouldn’t allow anything but silence and you knew that.

So he quickly grabbed something off the wall, using it to close the gap between you and the rest of the world. Between you and him.

Darkness slowly seeped into your space until nothing but a slit of light was fluttering through. Your Dads face peeking in one last time.“I love you Y/N.” He whispered, his voice soft and delicate against your ears like a stray feather floating in the wind.

But before you could even manage to speak he shut the door completely. Leaving you alone with the silence and the screams once again.

__________

Unlike all your other dreams this one didn’t cause you to wake up in a panic. Covered in sweat, your eyes groggily peeled themselves open. Met with just an average wooden ceiling in your view.

Your head was light as if it was full of helium. The corners of your vision were covered in a soft vignette just daring you to fall back asleep. Daring you to slip back into the comfortable numbness. To go back into the hiding place you had so long ago.

That is until you felt a sharp pain erupt in your chest when you breathed in a little too deep. In a rush, you tried to sit up. Contracting your muscles as always but instead of a smooth arising, a sharp pain stabbed at the center of your chest. A yelp escaped your lips and your back immediately stiffened against the cot once more. Jaw clenched in pain as you felt the raw flesh of your throat and lungs. It was like a cat had crawled inside you and scratched down your throat making you regret having made a single noise.

With your head propped up on a thin pillow, you manage to crane your neck to look at the rest of the room.

Am I in a med bay?

It was a small space and there was only one other cot on the other side of the room. The walls only held a whiteboard with some kind of tally marks and a covered window. A couple of counters and cabinets lined tightly right next to you. A mess of what looked like gauze, bandages, and tubs of what you supposed were ointment splayed out. Other than that you were left wishing for more discernible features about where in the hell you are.

Someone had been in here. Someone helped me. Where the hell are they now and what happened?

Being weak and vulnerable in a place you didn’t recognize wasn’t your ideal wake-up situation. But you also supposed whoever brought you here had helped you out. However, that didn’t make the sense of unease in your gut settle down much.

Fingers and palms splaying against the canvas of the cot you tried to ease yourself up yet again. Going at it a bit slower this time yet the second you applied some pressure you hissed in pain. Your hands stinging like sharp needles were tracing each fine line.

Taking your hands off the cot in a swift motion you stared at them now hovering gently above your face. They were both laced tightly with soft yet slightly scratchy bandages. An inkblot test of what you could only assume was blood seeping through parts of them.

I got injured on my literal fucking hands. My stupid hands of all places. What the hell did I do? Fight a raccoon or something?

Rolling your eyes you decided to trace your body for injuries before you tried to sit up again. Hands tracing over your shirt as you looked down at your body.

Wait a minute. Your hands paused, picking up the fabric of your shirt and lifting it closer to your face. This is not my shirt.

Eyes widening to panic you quickly let go of your shirt and felt down your hips to meet the hem of your pants. And these are not my pants.

You were in what seemed to be some spare clothes. Your underwear was still gratefully intact but the rest was just a pair of loose pants and a T-shirt one size too small.

Mouth agape and staring at the ceiling a warm wave of embarrassment washed over you. The apples of your cheeks and the nausea in your gut only getting worse.

Rubbing your hands over your face you tried to hold back any and all complaints. Your voice was fried and no matter how much you wanted to kick yourself and cry about it you just couldn’t.

As you shifted on the cot your hair hit the side of your face. A strong scent that you instantly noticed was the sea lapping at your nose. Your nose scrunched up as you paused your pity fest to sniff at it more tentatively. Not only did your hair smell like seawater, but so did your skin itself. Like you’d been sleeping in a bed of seaweed all night and hadn’t noticed.

Did I go for a swim or something? Gosh did I drown? Even thinking that made you swallow hard. Shame and dread at the fact that you might've done something unwise yet again. But drowning.

The undertones of that world sunk and swallowed your gut hole. Leaving you breathless in the worst of ways as a downpour of shame filled the dips and hills of your mind.

I remember being cold last night. I remember going to that bar. I remember walking home but then I must’ve done something. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Avoiding the imminent doom looming around you, you slipped your hand under your shirt. Immediately feeling the same tight bandage on your side and the center of your chest.

Great so I either have one or two broken bones. You softly rubbed the bandage on your side. Feeling the stark marks of what felt like torn flesh underneath. It wasn’t aching that badly but you knew if you tried to get up again it would.

Bracing yourself for the waves of pain pinching at your flesh you sat up finally. Eyeing the door across the room with small tears pricking your eyes. Your legs surprisingly didn’t hurt at all. They felt tired and worn out as you slung them over the edge of the cot. Yet when you stood up not a shot of pain erupted from anywhere.

Well, that’s good. Just upper body stuff then. You thought, holding onto the cot to try and find your balance. You could feel your body heaving a bit. Which finally let you take notice of the slight sway your body held. However, you couldn’t tell if it was just you being uneasy or the rest of the room swaying along with you.

This…feels familiar. A wave of nostalgia washed over you. Something so distant in your memory yet so raw with emotion. Looking at the window across the room a thought came to mind.

Am I on a boat?

It was a porthole with a blind shut over it. You were almost a bit afraid to go to that window. To open that stupid shade blocking out the warm light of day just to see something maybe you didn’t want to see.

No no no…I’m not on a boat. Why would I be on a boat? This person just likes porthole windows. Weird decorative choice but I’m not one to judge.

Your body crept towards it. A funny yet scared-looking smile tugging at the corners of your lips. If you didn’t see land on the other side of the window something in you was going to snap.

If I just see nothing but ocean on the other side of that window and not even a speck of island then…

You pinched the blind between your pointer and thumb. Lightly tugging on it until it naturally sprung upwards. A wave of light hitting your eyes as you licked your dry lips nervously.

Oh, thank the fucking lord. The docks of your home island were off to your left. The village was out of your line of sight but there was no mistaking the woods and shoreline you’d come to know as home.

Yet this sense of relief didn’t last long. The swaying of your body wasn’t all you then. Nearly pressing your nose to the glass you saw the soft churn of waves hit the hull below you.

So I’m on someone’s boat. A big boat clearly. A stranger's boat. You couldn’t see anything to identify whose boat you were on from this point of view. The window wasn’t the kind that opened so you were stuck just knowing the bare minimum of your situation.

I haven’t been on a ship in…

A growing wave of nausea hit your stomach again. Pitching forward as an unreasonable wave of panic stretches across you.

Walking staggerly to the door you reached out to open it. Giving only a moment's notice to listen quietly for any sound on the other side before quietly turning the knob and peering out.

It was a hallway that stretched out to your left and right. Even if you hadn’t seen the ocean on the other side of that window you still would’ve been able to tell this was a boat from the hallway.

The slightly lower ceilings, the wood paneling making every surface, the lanterns hung up periodically, and the few dozen scratches or patched-up holes from fights. It was tight and it smelled of the sea through faint drafts.

It's as if it had been ripped straight out of your childhood. Taunting you in an eerie reminder of what you were and somehow still suffocating as always.

I have to get out of here.

Without a thought you headed towards your left, closing the med bay door softly behind you. You needed to find a way onto the main deck and though you didn’t know your way around all you needed to find was a set of stairs.

If I’m on the lower side of the hull I gotta be at least one level down. Maybe one or two sets of stairs and I’m out of here.

With panic lacing your heels you noticed an open section of wall lining your right. You hurried towards it as fast as your weak body could manage before turning to see a beloved stairwell leading up. With bated breath, you started to climb it. Your side and chest aching from each little movement. The stairs creaking in some spots which only built upon the nerves ailing you.

When you finally breached onto the upper level you found nothing but another hallway to scour. Though you noticed this hallway was lined with windows unlike the last. Like a projector slide flashing between images, you saw those same windows filled with nothing but the sky and sea. Blurry silhouettes of men much taller than you walking past. Their rough visages and kind smiles just after visions in the blinding light. You blinked in a rush, rubbing over the space of your eyes and fumbling along the hallway.

It was like all the blood had been drained from your body. Weak and lightheaded you swayed with each step. Daring to pass out as another strong wave of nausea wrestled with your gut. It swelled into a deep ache that had you nearly hunched over. Grabbing your stomach tightly and using the wall for support as you shuffled along.

You couldn’t tell why this was happening. Well, you had a good guess but this sudden enveloping feeling constricting your throat was one you’ve had before. Another set of flash card images blurring your vision in memory of your father's much younger face, kneeled to look at you. Looking down the hallway you saw a door at its end. A bright light seeped through the slits and cast warm dusty rays across the floor.

I just need some fresh air. Some fresh air will fix this. I’ll be fine.

Yet this excruciating hallway seemed to be getting tighter and tighter with each step. You watched as the wall groaned as it crept closer toward your hobbled figure. Breath gasping in succession as fear arrogates your veins.

I need to get out of here. I need to get out of here. This thought was a sledgehammer driving into the front of your brain. Forcing you closer and closer to the door until that 30 feet became one and you were a step away from some sense of freedom. With a sweat-covered brow and a shaky hand, you pushed the door open with a loud creak.

Like a flash bomb, the sun hit your face and you could breathe once more.

__________

Kid hadn’t woken up feeling fresh and relieved. He hadn’t woken up with his body feeling in the best shape it's ever been. No aching, no crawling nerve pain, no head thumping like a toddler slapping the shit out of a drum. If he would just lie to himself a little then all of that could be true.

The fact that he had gotten around maybe 5 hours of sleep because he had to stay up in the med bay getting all his bandages replaced wasn’t real. The fact that Killer had to wake up Hip, the only semi-medic on their ship, to clean his stitches wasn’t real. The fact that instead of the screaming fight Kid was expecting from Killer, he was met with silence. Silence that spoke a thousand words of disappointment and shame. Leaving the Kid wishing they would’ve just punched it out like they always did.

But what Kid didn’t want to think was real. The thing that absolutely could not be real under any circumstances was the fact that he had brought a girl home. Not the kind of girl wanting cheap sex and some fake affection for just one night. Now that would’ve been normal. If anything maybe that's what he needed on his little break.

Yet instead of a girl dressed in lust, it was the kind that he was forced to stare at for an hour on the other side of the room. The kind that had burned into his retinas so he could see his mistake even when he closed his eyes. A big human-sized mistake just laying there like a corpse daring him to think she was real.

Because the second he reached his ship with you in tow he was hit over the head with a reality anvil. One that broke through the layer of alcohol, delusion, and sadness wrapped around his skull.

They didn’t know whether to treat their captain or the barely alive girl first. Why waste medical supplies on a stranger? So when he had watched Hip look her over he had barely paid attention to her words. Asking him what had happened and why he had brought her back. Though when Kid was finally excused, his body two steps away from slamming against the ground, he gave the fake girl one last look. Hips back to him as her hands traced over the figment of his imagination to check if she was even alive. She had been breathing softly the whole time Kid was forced to get fixed up but she was still dead asleep.

A part of him hoped she wouldn't wake up just so he wouldn’t have to deal with it in the morning.

But of course, morning had come to Kids begrudging dismay. Tossing around in sheets that now reeked of the sea because he hadn’t bothered to take a shower. He smelled, looked, and felt horrible.

I’d rather get beat by a bat than deal with this.

So little to say he started his day in a slump. The late morning did little to motivate him as he washed himself clean and then went to the kitchen to down a jug's worth of water. Dribbles of it spilled down his chin and onto the black tank top he wore. The loose swaying of shorts at his hips and the soft meandering steps of some flip flops gracing the halls.

Thankfully everyone else on the crew had started the day off by going into town to get the shopping done and over with. Kid could nearly see the stacked-up crates lining the dock outside in his near future. Yet he knew if he tried to help he’d get shooed away like some sort of child.

If they want me to be lazy I’ll be fucking lazy. I’m tired of trying.

With black coffee steaming gently out of the cup in his hand he sat down at one of the many tables in the mess hall. Trying to avoid the still very apparent problem that was probably still dead asleep just a floor below him.

He didn’t know what to make of last night. To him, it almost seemed like he was an entirely different person. One that wanted to wallow instead of rise to the challenge. One that wanted to give up instead of fight. One that wanted to save some girl because he could.

What the fuck is wrong with me? He rubbed over his face and brushed back his still slightly damp hair. No goggles to hold it up so it hung a tad bit looser around his face.

I saved one stranger and for what? For her to wake up and give me her thanks? I don’t give a shit about her. I don’t even know that bitches name.

There was no weaseling his way out of knowing why he had saved you. His choice to do it was entirely emotions-based instead of logic. There was no gain, no plan, no need for him to do anything when you fell into the sea.

I just...I just...Kid could barely think the words into existence let alone say it out loud. It’s one of the many reasons Killer had gone silent last night. Because no matter how many times he asked Kid why he did it, Kid couldn’t find an answer.

Kid’s thoughts were interrupted by the soft thudding of shoes walking down the hall. His body naturally froze as he heard the all too familiar footstep pattern of his first mate.

Why isn’t he out there with the rest of the crew? Shouldn’t he have left?

A sky blue and cream-colored mask came into sight as Killer rounded through the doorway. Taking a second to look Kid over but otherwise disregarding him as he turned sharply towards the open doorway of the kitchen. Not a single word leaving his lips.

Great. Now he's going to give me the cold shoulder then huh?

“So what? You’re just not going to talk to me?” Kid questioned demeaningly, a lick of vulnerability swirling underneath the thin surface of his tone.

Killer slowed to a stop, turning his head to gander once more at the redhead's large body filling up a small portion of the mess hall. “No. I just wanted coffee.” His voice was smooth and simple but Kid could still hear the underlying sarcasm he was barely holding back.

Kid clicked his tongue softly. Hardballing Killer as if he had said the most idiotic thing in the world. “So you decided to stay on the boat for some coffee? Shouldn’t you be out there? You’re the one in charge of the restock anyways.”

Killer’s voice punched out a little more than before. As if he was just now fully waking up. “I am but I thought you’d need me here. Can’t leave you alone with our little...problem.”

Is he tired? This thought floated in and out of Kids' brain immediately. Killer was always an early bird compared to him. But he knew if he could see past that mask of his, he might see the unusual purple hue sagging below Killer's eyes.

“I can handle it just fine. I’m going to give it a bit. Drink my goddamn coffee and then go down there and throw our problem out. Simple.” Kid’s voice didn’t sound as resolute as he hoped it would. He didn’t have a plan on how to handle this. He barely wanted to speak to the woman let alone throw her overboard, especially with all the injuries she held.

Injuries and death that me and my crew saved her from. Kid swiped his fingers over his eyes. Rubbing them to let the darkness behind his eyelids swirl.

Killer let out a low grumble and scratched the back of his head. Tufts of blonde hair getting frizzy as his voice became even more fatigued. “Is that right? Well, I think you’ll need me. If only to make sure you two don’t argue and she hopefully just leaves.”

Kid just stared blankly at Killer. Using the small amount of brain power he had left to look him over. He is tired. He only stayed up for an hour to watch me when I was getting patched up. Why the hell does he sound like that?

“Whatever. You don't think I can handle one girl so don’t fucking give me that.” Kid picked up his coffee mug. Taking a slow sip as he tentatively eyed his first mate.

Killer paused before he spoke. Chewing his lips a bit and turning back towards the kitchen doorway. Walking over to it and still talking to Kid despite the distance. “You can handle one girl but I don’t think you can handle one girl that you saved. She’s going to ask questions about what happened and why you did it. I’m going to be there to give answers when you inevitably fuck up and don’t say anything.”

Kids' eyes widened at that. A rush of embarrassment and a bit of anger rose to his cheeks. Taking another quick gulp of his coffee before cocking his head to the side. “You don’t know what I’m going to do. She doesn’t deserve any fucking answers so what does it matter anyways? You don’t have to be her shrink and tell her it's going to be alright.”

Killer's body slipped past the doorway and out of Kid's sight. Letting him only faintly listen to the sounds of him grabbing a mug and picking up the coffee jug. “Well if she was persistent about speaking to us last night then I doubt she won’t be this morning. You’re giving a psychotic fangirl a chance at being on our ship. Better yet the guy she wanted to talk to saved her. She’s going to ask questions. Questions I know you don’t want to answer.”

Killer spoke just loud enough for Kid to hear him. Kids face contorting more and more into pure and utter annoyance at the obvious facts that Killer was spilling. “She’s not a fangirl. We don’t have fans Killer were fucking pirates for Christ's sake.” Kid protested, his voice barely audible to Killer's ears.

“Yes, she is. She followed us last night. I know she messed with you or whatever. But love can often get mistaken for hatred. She probably just lied to herself for an excuse to be around us.”

Kid's eyes nearly popped out of his skull hearing that. The grip against his mug becoming firmer and firmer as he watched Killer stride back into sight. Now holding a steaming cup of coffee and heading over towards him.

“Don’t fucking say that to me.” That was all Kid could manage. If he said anything more than that a blood vessel might pop and he’d be left with the bloodshot eyes of an insane man.

Love can get mistaken for hatred? What the fuck is Killer on right now?

Killer eased down into the chair across from Kid. His mug thudding softly against the wooden table and a low grunt of discomfort rolling off his tongue.“What? Don’t you think that girl was flirting with you? I thought about it last night and it seemed weird. Like she had some sort of other agenda about why she was talking to you besides the whole ‘her being worried about you pillaging the town’ or whatever.”

As Killer settled in with his hand holding up his head by the soft fur of his chin, Kid was tensing up. His jaw stretched and snapped tight like he had to pry it open with a crowbar before speaking. His cheeks turning that uncharacteristically shy shade of red. “I don’t know why the fuck you’re telling me this. She can have whatever agenda she wants. I just don’t ever want to deal with her or see her ever again.”

Killer couldn’t help but find Kid's reaction a bit amusing even if it was surprising. Kid wasn’t one for affection and Killer knew that. That’s why seeing Kid turn red at the thought of this girl's supposed crush was extra funny. So much so that he couldn’t help but make it a little worse. “Then why are you getting red in the face? You’ve had girls swoon over you before. Is it just the fact that this one might want to get into your pants that bothers you?”

“Killer I’m going to reach over this table and rip your head off if you keep this up.”

Killer's tired demeanor became much more mischievous. A wry smile tugged at his lips and he leaned forward to speak in a sarcastic yet smooth and romantic way. “I bet it was amazing for her last night though. A big strong man comes to save her just at the right time-”

“Kil I swear to god-”

“Both of you were drenched and grasping onto one another. Looking into each other's eyes and whispering sweet nothings in the moonlight-”

“Killer shut the fuck up-”

“That girl was probably so turned on she was rubbing her thighs together. Wishing you’d just take her-”

“KILLER!” Killer got fully cut off when Kid lunged at him. Standing up and taking his first mate by the collar to tug him forward. Nearly knocking over his coffee in the process as Kid snarled at him.

Killer could barely hold back a laugh. Smiling wildly underneath his mask he softly patted Kid's arms to ease him off him. “Ah okay okay sorry. Couldn’t help myself. It’s payback for last night anyways.”

Kid's hand slowly loosened up. His cheeks burned a bright fiery red as he sat back down in his seat. Steam nearly puffed out of his nose as he took a deep breath. “Yeah? Well, it's a stupid fucking way to get your payback. It wasn’t like that. Quit making me out to be some kind of hero asshole.”

Killer eyed his captain in a attentive yet loving way. He loved whenever he got a chance to get under his skin like this.

And maybe this does make up for last night. We don’t have to focus on our fight. Just the girl.

“Well, I’m not letting it go. You saved some girl and brought her home. That’s hero behavior for sure,” Kid looked at Killer dead on, his face going slack with annoyance again. It made Killer pause for a moment feeling just a tad bit guilty, “But maybe it wasn’t romantic at all for her. Forget all that shit I said about love or whatever. I was just spitballing ideas anyway.”

“Well, I could tell. Saying that shit like you had any idea what you were talking about.” Kid rolled his eyes and finished off the last of his coffee. Letting the smooth and bitter liquid roll down into his stomach to gain an ounce of motivation for the day ahead.

Killer took a smooth sip of his coffee through the little bendy straw he brought along. Just nodding his head like he agreed though he was still pretty sure something more was going on with you.

Or maybe all that blushing means something more is going on with Kid.

A sudden loud noise erupted down the hall. It sounded close but at the same time echoed through the small enclosure and into the ears of the two men sitting idly together. Kid's body perked up, looking over at the doorway out into the hall expectantly.

“Is there anyone else on the ship right now?” Kid mumbled, looking over at Killer who had put his mug down almost instantly. Staring at the doorway more hesitantly than Kid.

“No. Just us. Everyone already left. I made sure of it.” They both looked over at each other. Their shared brain cells functioned at a slower rate before they both came to the same conclusion.

“It’s the girl.” Kid whispered, Killer's head nodding in agreement as they both started to stand up and head out into the hall. Kids empty mug and Killers half full one long forgotten as they walked towards the source of the sound.

“Goddamn, I was hoping she’d just stay asleep.” Kid mumbled to himself more than anything. Picking up the pace a bit as two sets of heels rampantly thudded against the wood below.

“I think it came from on deck.” Killer's voice was quiet. Mimicking the hesitation Kid's voice held. If they thought about it enough, they should be making their presence known. Yelling so she didn’t think she could run off with one of their possessions if that's what she wanted. But if they didn’t make their presence known, then maybe they wouldn’t have to deal with her. She could slink away on he own accord without talking to them.

It was a juxtaposition between hesitation and necessity as they reached a door. Pushing it open and stepping out together to scan the deck. A chill ran down Kid's spine as he felt the brisk wind hit his bare legs. Within an instant, he saw you but of course, you had a habit of surprising him at this point.

“Shit.” You mumbled under your breath. Panting softly as you clenched tightly onto the banister of the stairs leading down to the lowest part of the deck. Your face was a shade paler than usual. The blood ran cold inside of you as you desperately tried to pretend you hadn’t slipped on the stairs not a minute ago.

“H-Hey guys. What’s up?” Kid could instantly tell by your voice that you were hanging on by a thread.

Well, I think anyone with eyes could tell she’s a fucking mess.

“What are you doing?” Left Kid's lips before he could even really contemplate what was happening. Walking closer to the upper edge of the stairs to look down at you. Killer in tow with his hands crossed over his wide chest.

You looked between the two large men like you had done the first time you met them. The blondie is still quiet and reserved. The redhead, or Kid you supposed, is demeaning and talkative.

They’re already tall enough. They didn’t have to take the high ground for Christ's sake.

“Nothing.” Kids' eyebrows of course rose at that. Leaving you stuttering to come up with something that didn’t sound stupid. “I mean not nothing but definitely something. I don’t know.” Your body swayed a bit as you gripped the banister even tighter. You’re fingertips turned a shade whiter as you swallowed down what felt like oncoming nausea.

Did they kidnap me? Is that the only reason why they decided to patch me up was to sell me off? I can’t just tell them I’m leaving if that's the case.

“Well, you falling on the stairs doesn’t seem like nothing.” When the blondie spoke it almost partly startled you, it was the first time you could hear his voice. It was similar to Kids as if they were from the same area. But it was slightly higher and more raspy in tone. It almost made you forget what the man had even said. A blush rose to your cheeks as you shook your head defensively.

“Well, I’d like to see you try to walk down some stairs with wounds and nausea asshole.” That slipped past your tongue before you could even reel it back in. Still holding on for dear life as the panic seemingly never wanted to settle in your veins. “I feel like I got gutted. What the hell happened to me?”

Killer didn’t mind being called an asshole, he's been called much worse. But watching you spit that out with such a raw look of utter exhaustion and frustration on your face was a bit much. You seemed to be falling apart right in front of him for some reason.

Was she hurt that bad?

“What the fuck is with you? Are you about to keel over right now?” Kid took Killer's thoughts right out of his mind. The girl had barely walked that far from the med bay but she seemed to be sweating and breathing heavily like she had run a mile.

You frowned at the two men, taking a deep and shaky breath before you spoke. “I don’t like it on this ship. I want off and I want to know what happened.”

Whilst Kid's eyebrows furrowed, Killers raised. Confusion struck both of them at the mere fact that you didn’t seem to remember the events of last night. “So you don’t remember?” Killer asked calmly, taking a hesitant step down the stairs towards you. You’re shaky pupils locking onto him in fear.

“No, I don't remember. I don’t remember anything past…the walking home I think. What the fuck did you people do? Beat me and dunk me in water?”

The instant you said that Kids' anger rose from about an average 5 to an 8 out of 10. His one good hand clenched into a white line of knuckles as he stepped down the stairs in a stomping motion towards you. “We didn’t fucking beat you dumbass! We helped you. If I wanted to beat you I’d do a much better job than the fucking ocean did.”

The second Kid started stomping down the stairs towards you, you turned around. Finishing off the last couple of steps with trembling knees and scurrying out into the middle of the deck a good distance away from him. “Stay the fuck away from me!” You yelled putting your hands up defensively even though you felt like a pile of Play-Doh.

Kid paused when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Clicking his tongue and watching you with predator-like precision. “That’s not a nice way to say thank you.”

If your frown couldn’t get any deeper then somehow it found a way. Your throat tightening up like his huge fist was somehow already around you. “What do you mean the ocean? I..drowned didn’t I?” You ignored his other comments. This man didn’t deserve a thank you until you knew what had happened.

“Yes, you fucking did brat. Your fatass fell into the ocean. You ended up here with a fresh set of bandages.”

You barely even registered the insults he was throwing your way. Just swallowing hard as he called you a fatass before wearily speaking once more.“But…how…how did I end up falling into the ocean?” Your voice became a hint softer, frustration bleeding into sadness and maybe even regret.

“Because you’re an idiot that's why. You thought the jetty was a walkway and got swallowed up. It's all your fault so don’t blame me.”

Kids' harsh words hit you hard. Eyes daring to prick with tears as you took a minute to just settle into what you had learned. A weak and bandaged hand raked through your hair as you stared at the ground below you. “Shit.”

The two men just watched you work through it. Both of them having a hard time trying to understand why the hell you seemed so sad about it.

What the hell is wrong with this girl?

“Quit being a brat and dwelling in it. You survived and because you survived you get the honor of personally walking off my ship all by yourself like a big girl.” No matter how hard Kid tried he couldn’t strain himself to be any more reassuring than that. It's not like he wanted to be reassuring but you seemed to be an absolute mess in need of a push. A push off his ship that is.

And though Kid was taking a more aggressive approach Killer couldn’t help but notice the turmoil you were in. Walking past Kid and slowly approaching you with as much benign energy as he could. “Are you okay?”

You looked horrible. Face still a shade paler and your eyes glossed over somewhat. The clothes they had given you stuck to your skin with sweat. Your body swayed even more as if you were caught in a much stronger current than the one currently rocking at the boat.

His voice barely reached your ears. Those same memories, visions, and blood-curdling screams drowning you out. The warm fire on your skin. The ice-cold water in your blood. You tried not to pay attention to it. Eyelashes fluttered closed as you rubbed over your eyes. The darkness did little to help you as you stumbled backward.

Something took hold of Kid's heels as he walked closer to you. Stepping past Killer to land just a few feet in front of you. His chin tilted down to leer at you though his eyes couldn’t help but wander. Trying to pierce through the strange weak form of a woman you had become.

“What’s wrong? You’re fine. It can’t hurt that bad if you’re walking.” He spoke, his voice a bit quieter yet still just as harsh.

What the hell is she doing? Faking this shit for sympathy? Nothing bad is happening.

Hearing Kids' deep voice so close startled you out of your stupor. Your shoulders twitching as you finally slip your hands off your face to look up at him.

Kids eyes widened seeing wet crystal-like tears on the ridges of your eyes. Mouth going slightly agape and eyebrows raising in what you assumed was disgust.

“I’m fine. I can handle the pain. Just get me off this ship.”

Kid was confused to say the least.

Is she crying because she got hurt or because…she doesn’t want to be near me? Because she wishes it wasn’t me that saved her? For some reason that thought made his mind blare red. You’re once helpless figure now cast in something weak and greedy in his mind. A leech on the stray strands of his kindness that he felt like plucking and squishing to death between his fingers.

“Are a few screws loose up there or something? Why the hell are you crying? I let you on my ship that you were drooling over. I used my supplies to bandage you up. I gave you my precious and invaluable attention for more than a few minutes. I even risked my life to save your ass. You should be fucking thankful not crying.”

Killer's mask glided between the two of you. Your face scrunched up in confusion as your lips parted to speak. But before you could utter a single word he piped up. “Kid, what are you doing? I told you I could handle this.” Both you and Kid looked over at him like you had forgotten he was even there. A deep scowl turning more rich with wrath as Kid eyed Killer.

“I’m doing what I fucking want to. I told you I didn’t need your help.” Kid stormed closer, forehead laced with lines as he kept breaching the gap between you and him.

You couldn’t help but look at Kid with even more confusion. Phasing past his words speaking of your ungrateful self to focus on one part that didn’t quite make sense. “Wait did you just say you...saved me? Were you the one that found me?” Wiping your tears with the back of your hand in a quick motion you took a tiny step closer to the man. Not at all afraid of that look of wrath he seemed to be fostering in his eyes.

It was Kid's turn to feel a spike of panic as his cheeks daringly went a shade red. “N-No I didn’t save you! You’re a fucking idiot to assume I’d save someone as worthless as you. I would let you drown without a thought so don’t get me wrong and quit avoiding the question. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Despite the obvious turmoil you were feeling, another round of anger splashed into the cesspool of your mind. “Nothing is wrong with me! I’m fine. I just don’t like being on ships. I need to get the fuck off this thing like right now.” You looked away from Kid, shuffling towards the nearest banister parallel to the dock.

With one brutal step Kid bounded towards you once again. Spit flying past his red-painted lips as he spoke. “What do you mean you don’t like being on ships? Are you seasick or something? My boat is barely swaying ya baby.”

“It’s not sea sickness. I just don’t like it okay? Can you quit asking me why and just help me?” You kept just trying to walk away from Kid. Eyes scanning the deck trying to figure out where they kept that plank to walk down on.

Kid paused as he watched you. Your short fluffy head whisked in the wind as you helplessly looked around for a way off.

Is this girl always a helpless little puppy?

“Well, I’m not helping you until you thank me. So get off this boat yourself or fucking fall off I don’t care.”

“Kid don’t you want her gone?” Killer whispered huskily. Of course, it caught your ears though. Turning your head briskly to look between the two men as they exchanged sideways glances.

“What I want is a thank you from her but she’s too much of a brat to cough it up.” Kid laid it on real thick as he spoke. Taking the time to pronounce brat harshly as if his tongue was dripping with venom.

You swiveled your head back towards Kids. Sharp teeth coming into sight as you snarled at him. “Can you stop patronizing me? Quit acting like you're the better person here or that I owe you anything.”

“You do owe me something! A goddamn thank you and maybe an apology while you’re at it. Do you think you deserve to be on my ship? Do you think I wanted to deal with you? I’ve been putting up with you the moment I came ashore instead of fucking relaxing like I was supposed to!”

“How is that my fault?! You never had to talk to me at the bar. You never had to save me or whatever you and your crew did. I was just there doing what I wanted to and you made it your problem. So boo-hoo bitch you fucked up your vacation!” You flung your arms in the air and brashly pointed at him. Quickly turning around and stomping towards the banister in a rush. You gripped its wooden edge, leaning down to look at the fear-inducing height between you and the dock.

Kid couldn't believe what he had heard. Well, he could believe the name-calling and the crass tone in your voice. And though those things made him want to boil over it also made him want to disappear. You were right. He did inherently inject himself into all of your problems. He put himself into the line of fire that was you. And though he knew this deep down it wasn’t going to stop him from telling himself that it was a lie. That you were the villain plotting nefarious plans to make his life a living hell. That the moment you were finally gone maybe things would start going his way. Even so, he didn’t exactly understand why he wasn’t just escorting you off his ship if that was the case.

My life would be easier with her gone. So why do I need this? Why am I keeping her here? She means nothing to me.

That thought crossed his mind just to turn his cheeks red. His knuckles were white as he wiped off the small layer of sweat across his brow. He could feel his stump twitching with a pulse. The new bandages doing little to hide the fiery sensation pinching at his nerves.

That’s it. I’m ripping her fucking head off. He watched you with keen eyes. Not willing to speak in case he let something slip that was beyond him. Beyond what he was willing to admit.

Killer cautiously stepped closer to Kid with pleading yet gentle steps. “Hey, I can handle this. Go inside. She’s being a bitch I realize but you're in no shape to-”

“To do what? Kill this bitch? Let me handle it Kil. She’s my problem.” Kid roared, your head jerking backward to watch the two men. With yet another string of panicked actions, you tried to sling your foot over the banister. A ripping pain snapping through you as it pinched the injury on your side.

If there is a God can they just give me a break and let me get off this damn thing!

With quick succession, you tried to jump onto the banister once more. Hooking one foot over quickly and bouncing up to sit on the carved railing. Your ass slammed against the ridged wood making you grunt and lean over in pain. Hanging one leg off the side of the boat as you looked down to sea the line between dock and saltwater below you.

“What the fuck are you doing? Do you want to fall off?” Kid couldn't believe how stupid you were. Your round body hanging off the edge into what could be yet another nose dive into the ocean. “Are you trying to drown again because believe me sweetheart I can make that happen.” He growled walking towards you.

That look on his face spoke a million words and all of them screamed murder. But in the other direction was of course a one-story drop that made piss nearly trickle down your legs.

SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT.

“Okay okay! I’m sorry! I said I’m fucking sorry so stop!”

This wasn’t your proudest moment but it was one you hoped to walk away from with all your limbs intact. Despite your pleas, Kid didn’t come to a stop. Still barreling towards you as if he hadn’t heard a thing. You tried to shuffle off the banister but he was already right up on you. Watching with shadowed eyes as he leaned uncomfortably close. His face was a mere foot away as his one arm grabbed onto the railing to close you in.

“I don’t know. That didn’t sound very genuine to me. How about you try again?” The intensity of his voice was suffocating you. His mountain of body caging you in and his face far too close for comfort.

You could nearly feel his breath fan across you as your cheeks slowly blossomed a deep red. Trembling lips followed by a quiet voice to match your submission. “I’m sorry for bothering you and being a nuisance.” You swallowed hard, dryness tearing at your already sore throat. If your blood was cold before it had gone even colder.

Kid's eyes flickered between yours. Soaking in that look of fear and desperation running across your face. It was palpable to the point where he could taste it on his tongue. Sweet and sour like the softness of your voice but the bitterness in your eyes.

Finally, the kind of reaction I deserve. He thought without a word. The silence between the two of you was so raw with tension. Egging on your fear even more. “And what else do we say? Don’t make me push you off so be a good girl and just say it.”

Confusion flashed through you. Blinking back and forth between his amber orbs. “What?” Your voice was so soft Kid could barely hear it. Cheeks going aflame as you leaned off to one side trying to get away from him. But as soon as you did that the boat tipped. A wave rocking along with you and your pants providing little friction to keep you upright. You tried to squeeze with your thighs but they slipped along with your hands. “K-Kid help!” You yelped, your body slipping right off the banister towards the waters below.

Kids eyes widened watching this all unfold right in front of him. He didn’t make a move to help you right away but as soon as your body dipped too far off and your legs unhooked from the banister he reached out. Taking hold of your forearm with a vice-like grip. “F-Fucking hell.” He let out a deep grunt. Abs leaning over and onto the railing to reach you. Your once-falling body now slack against the side of the hull. A wretched yell of pain escaped you as your injuries spasmed.

“Ahh fuckin shit K-Kid help me up!” Your other hand grasped onto Kid's forearm. Feet trying to kick upwards to propel you more.

“You’re not fucking light ya know!” He inhaled deeply through his teeth. His jaw clenched tight as he struggled to keep ahold of you. You’re soft arm slipping in his sweaty hand.

“Captain?”

Kids' eyes break away from your lingering stare up at him. Finally noticing the contents of the dock below. A line of his crewmates were standing idly watching the two of you. A few baskets and crates in hand as if they had paused mid-step to spot the two of you.

Kid didn’t know what to say. Almost forsaking you as his arm naturally went limp. “Kid!!” His body flinched back into life when he heard your voice again. Muscles contracting once more to reapply pressure before you slipped out of his grasp.

You didn’t dare look down at the crowd below you. Eyes focused on Kid and the fast approaching footsteps of what you assumed was Killer not too far behind. But Kid's eyes weren’t on you. Dare say they had paused in one particular spot further down the dock towards the island. Once wide and glossy with embarrassment now honed and focused on something else.

“Who is that?” Kids voice was low and quiet. Pulling you up towards him with a breathy grunt. Killer finally took up the space beside Kid. Grabbing onto your other arm and effectively sliding you over the banister like a towel.

Sliding onto the deck your head almost slammed right into Kid's chest. Killer quickly let go of your arm. Grabbing you by the shoulder to steady you until you stayed upright.

“Y/N?” a voice called. With wobbly knees and blushing cheeks, you held tightly onto Kid's arm for support. Your breath hitching in the realization of who Kid was asking about. Slowly and unsurely you turned your head towards the source of the voice, only to find the worst-case scenario just standing there.

“H-Hi Dad.”

A/N: Okay okay okay I realize that I’m making Y/N like EXTREMELY clumsy for no reason. It’s apart of her character yes but I promise she isn’t always the classic clumsy girl in need of saving trope!! Things will change. She will get better. She’s just GOING THROUGH IT right now. I mean like drowning, then on boat you don’t know, to fear for lore reasons, to angry man threatening you, to almost dying again!! Like it’s BAD BAD for her rn. ALSO I hope ya’ll are concocting some sweet ideas y/ns past lol. I feel like I’m making it too apparent but I’m also not sure??? There’s a lot to unpack there.

#one piece #one piece eustass #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #killer one piece #kid pirates #one piece x reader #x reader #eustass kid x reader #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you

[slushiepizza]

The Pursuit of Catharsis

Pairing : Guy/Honey

Tags : Infidelity, Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Post-Divorce, Guy cheated on Honey and they both had a divorce, DILF Guy, Screenwriter Guy, Moving On Themes

Word Count : 1,453

ao3

How to Heal after a Cheating Spouse 

Betrayal from a loved one would cause a mix of emotions unlike any other: vitriol, grief, disappointment. In this column, relationship counselor C. Pardalis details the steps needed to move on. 

The first ever step that nobody ever wants to hear is forgiveness. Forgiveness isn’t done for your spouse’s sake- neither does it mean that you have to maintain a relationship with them. It’s about making peace with the pain of the past and moving forward. 

Honey closed all the tabs in their browser and shut down the laptop. Every website said the same thing- to forgive, forget, and be the bigger person. Pain simmered in the hollow of their chest. They stared around themselves and noted the take-out boxes on the table. Abandoned laundry piled high on top of the dining room chair- how’d it even get there?

The room could use some cleaning. They were expecting a guest, after all. 

In thirty minutes, Guy will arrive at the front door- as if he’s a visitor and not someone who’d lived in the complex for the past twenty years. Had they been younger- had they cared more, they probably would’ve been angrier. Tossed all of his things when they found out- when they saw the mark on the side of his neck, the pair of tickets for a vacation they didn’t book, the foreign smell of cologne sticking in the inside of his jacket. But they didn’t- and instead held onto his things for him to pick up after the divorce had been finalized. Time flew in the blink of an eye and papers were signed.

They’re older. Possibly wiser- but they think they’re just tired of it all. Or maybe they were looking for an excuse to get out of the relationship, anyway. It didn’t matter anymore. Honey quickly folded and put away the laundry in a mechanical way, their hands moved faster than their mind could catch up. 

Honey looked at the inside of their closet- a row of newer, sleek designer clothing came into view. They bit the inside of their cheek as they decided on what to wear. They came a long way ever since they began dating him- no longer the college student living in cramped, shared dorms, but someone with a sizable enough salary to afford some luxuries. 

Of course, that was nothing compared to Guy the best-selling author, award-winning screenwriter. Everything had its costs, they supposed. They hated to admit it- but they should’ve seen it coming. The success- the downfall. The way it crashed and burned for them.

Try dating yourself, the article said. Make an effort to treat yourself well and find confidence like how you would a partner. 

They picked a matching set- a navy-blue, cashmere suit and jacket. Honey looked at themself in the mirror and saw signs of aging. They also saw the bags under their eyes from sleepless nights. Nothing some concealer couldn’t fix. They straightened their jacket and fastened a watch to their wrist. 

There’s nothing to prove, Honey reminded themself. But they knew that it was a lie. They spritzed perfume on the inside of their neck. They were dressed as if they were going somewhere-when ten minutes ago, they were lounging in their sleepwear, unable to get themselves out of bed. They wanted to look like they were doing well. Unaffected. Like the twenty years that went down the drain meant nothing to them. 

If Guy wanted to sleep around- then so be it. They’re a prize that he’d regret not treasuring. 

Honey straightened their posture and twisted their defeated expression into something more neutral. It didn’t last long, as they sighed and went back to their sagged shoulders and hurt, pathetic gaze. They’d play the part when he’s here. It’s exhausting to keep up the facade when they felt nothing but confident, around them remnants of what used to be. 

Their wedding ring sat in the same drawer they kept their watches. They should pawn it off soon. 

Focus on personal development. Improve yourself and stick to a routine. It’s easy to fall into a rut when grieving the ending of a relationship, especially due to your partner’s mistake. 

Honey was the healthiest they’d ever been- yet it’s the worst they’ve ever felt. They go on runs in the crack of dawn and hike on the weekends. They’ve tried everything an acai-bowl eating, veganism-practicing LA native would do: pilates, yoga, hot yoga, crossfit. The post-exercise endorphins would soothe them momentarily, but soon the grief of it all would crash into them like a wave against the cliffs and they stood, heaving on the floor like an animal.

It’s ironic how they were the happiest when they would barely sleep and eat anything that they could afford at the time- which wasn’t much. When Guy would excitedly bring pizza for dinner when they knew that he’d pay for them out of his own paycheck. He’d say that he made it especially for them, and the worst part was that it was true. He put onions because he knew they liked them when he didn’t- put up with the horrors of pineapple on pizza when he found it disgusting. 

Honey swallowed and fought the incoming tears. Fuck. 

A series of knocks echoed through the apartment and they straightened themself. A picture of serenity and composure. The door swung to reveal the person they’ve been dreading. 

“Hey,” he greeted, somewhat hesitant. He had the nerve to look sorry. Anger boiled in their stomach and took purchase in their diaphragm as Honey dissected the man in front of them. 

At forty-five, he was definitely still attractive, the half-up, salt-and-pepper hair and unshaved stubble giving him an air of aged wisdom. But Honey just thought that he looked weary, the well-tailored, expensive suit doing a good job of hiding his defeated sort of pride. They have that in common.

It’s been a difficult year. 

“Your things are in the boxes near the couch. I packed them so you can just take them away,” they said, curt and flat. 

“Okay,” he replied, tight-lipped. They could feel the sadness emanating from him- it reminded them of the night of the confrontation- when he broke down and said that they should leave, because they deserved better. And they do, they like to believe that they do. But why is it so hard?

“Your books and CDs- the Star Trek merch is over there, too.” 

“Thanks,” Guy muttered. And the two of them stood in a suffocating silence. 

“I don’t resent you, by the way,” Honey said, the words practiced, their back turned from him against the backdrop of the city lights from the floor-to-ceiling windows. 

“Really.” It was rhetorical, not a question but more of an ironic statement. 

Guy gave a weak laugh, like it’s a private joke only he understood. After signing one movie deal after the next, He’s somehow rougher on the edges now, as if any form of gentleness that remained in him was no longer. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, grief-stricken and still as earnest as ever, and Honey could feel the twist of a knife in their stomach. 

The article repeated itself in their mind. The first ever step that nobody ever wants to hear is forgiveness. 

Fuck that, Honey thought as they tried to hold themself together. Fuck that article. Fuck Guy. Fuck him and his ambitions and the pains of his past for taking the one thing they ever cared about. 

What if they don’t want to forgive? What if the pain was so unbearable- it wasn’t like this was a mistake that could be fixed with a good, healthy lifestyle and breathing exercises. Twenty years. Twenty years of seeing him, soft and gentle, yet unrelenting in the pursuit of his dreams of becoming a writer. His hair brushed against their neck whenever he’d lean his head on their shoulder back in the movie nights they had in college. Him taking care of them whenever they’re sick and pissy about it. The late-night drives and the way he’d always have time for them no matter how busy he was.

The light that drained from his eyes, the exhaustion. The way he’d go home in the dead of night, drained and tired and burnt out. The stink of cigarettes and the alcohol under his breath. The articles, the tabloids, the rumors and how they insisted that he wouldn’t do it. He loved them too much to ever leave them for someone else. 

Honey collapsed into the floor as soon as Guy closed the door behind him. Heavy sobs wrecked through them as the night wrapped them in its embrace. 

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted guy #redacted honey #redactedverse

[meanbossart]

Another much overdue ask compilation! Some short-ish lore asks (Gale, Gort, DU drow relationships and pet-companion preferences) and a couple of art/advice ones sprinkled in. THIS IS BY NO MEANS ALL OF MY ASKS so as usual I appreciate everyone's patience!

I actually think he'd give them a pass entirely as soon as he noticed. Correct me if I'm mistaken but half-drow get No love from underdark drow and are usually surface babies right? So that fruit is miles away from the tree lol. I think he generally has a bit of a soft spot for mixed kinds since he himself feels like an amalgamation of sorts.

Thank you! They're kind of a pain in the ass to draw at times for that very reason but man I do like the look 😩if other people like it too then that makes it all worth it!

THAT'S TRICKY TO ANSWER BECAUSE OFTEN TIMES I'M NOT... REALLY TRYING. I've draw a ton of horror comics for mine and my partner's series' SAD SACK and SORTIE, so I think it just comes naturally to me 😅 also I do genuinely find expressive and, uh, rugged faces more attractive? (I think they look rugged, again that's what people tell me at least.)

I think the secret might be adding bits of realism in there. I get a lot of comments about the wrinkles and eyelashes I add to my art, as well as the way I draw individual teeth (though I've lately been making an effort to simplify my style in favor of drawing faster, so I haven't done that as much or in as much detail.)

Both symmetry and the lack of it can also add to that effect. I have employed both facial unevenness and almost point-perfect symmetry to achieve something a little frightening or otherworldly in my work. [MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Thank you so much!!! The contrast is very much intentional, that's what DU drow's character is all about ;)

Hahah well I somewhat doubt Bhaal would care that his spawn gets named, but either way he stripped himself of his name as soon as he killed his foster parents and abandoned the Underdark. He had a drow name that I jotted down somewhere but it's completely irrelevant because nobody has used it since he was a child, and he doesn't remember it (even pre-tadpole/having his brain scrambled.) Here's a little write up about his origins that might shed some more light on that: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739688837431836672/did-drow-ever-have-a-childhood-before-the-temple

And about his original drow-given name and the reason behind it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/741350986692591616/drow-had-to-have-been-given-a-name-by-his-adoptive

Everyone just referred to him as his supposed race, or as Bhaalspawn or Bhaal's child, and any other similar titles. Orin called him "kin" and "brother" and Gortash likely called him his associate. Post-tadpole the camp grows entirely used to calling him "the drow" and he has no desire to change that or to choose a proper name.

THANK YOU BOTH SO MUCH😭 no reason to be intimidated, I'm just some rando drawing BG3 fan art LOL I've been drawing since I was a child, and started taking it semi-seriously when I was 16 years old, so twelve years ago! That's around the time where I got my first non-display tabled and used that well into my twenties, prior to that I only did stuff on paper and liked to do inks color with pencils. I never really ventured into traditional painting at all except for a little bit of water-coloring in college.

Traditional and Digital art are very much different beasts. Which one you want to start with is, in my opinion, just dependent on what you want to do. Digital art gives you a lot of tools that makes learning easier, but you might find yourself having much steeper of a learning curve if you ever decide to do traditional art instead. If you want to be good at both, you need to practice both, since the skill doesn't entirely translate from one medium to the other.

Naturally you will be able to draw well on either, it's just... Different. I will say though, that I think if you're still learning you should use whatever allows you to look directly at what your hand is doing, so either traditional or display tablet/Ipad. I have no idea what a non-display tablet would do to a beginner, but remembering my experience with it I feel like it might be a huge detriment to developing the skill (feel free to share your experiences in the replies if you disagree, as I would definitely be curious to read them!)

YOU KNOW ME BABY IT WAS MESSY AND COMPLICATED the tldr.: is that they were "buddies", absolutely no romance intended there on either mine or DU drow's part, but due to his nature the friendship was extremely weird.

Here's a couple of replies where I go into more detail about it: https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/739191190871818240/i-dont-have-a-particular-question-in-mind-sorry

https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/744952815768764416/so-not-sure-if-youve-covered-this-but-i-thought

That's definitely reserved for the vamp LOL DU drow very much enjoys when Astarion teases and fusses over him, and while Astarion probably got a kick out of acting that way around such a big and scary looking guy at first, I think by "now" (later and post-game) he's pretty much immune to DU drow's looks and just enjoys doing it in earnest.

He's not at all averse to being touched (even rather intimately) by close friends, but he wouldn't be quite THAT vulnerable with anyone else.

HE REALLY DISLIKED GALE... He irked him out by seemingly fostering a rather persistent romantic interest in him for at least half the time they spent together (very much based on my interpretation of their in-game interactions at the time, though my Gale might have been a little bugged.)

But also they had a... Fairly in depth relationship still? Gale was a staple in my party, and even though I antagonized him constantly by the end of the game it still felt like they had so much weight in each other's lives, if that makes sense. I might need to do a bit of an "update" on the DU Drow/Gale lore sometime, I feel like I've had some thoughts since that warrant more exploration of their dynamic (you can find a lot of old asks about it if you just search the Gale Dekarios tag in my blog though).

The gist of it is that DU drow found him arrogant and duplicitous, his constant optimist irritated him to no end and felt like it veiled a stream of self-pity (two things DU drow despises) Gale's attempts to get through to him only added insult to injury. By the end of the game he decided to pursue the crown of Karsus and this only lost him even more respect in Drow's eyes, seeing as he doesn't value godly power at all.

I was pretty overwhelmed by the game at the start so I actually missed a lot LOL including Scratch. I did get the owlbear cub though, which DU drow gladly welcomed into camp since it was injured - but I think he would have wished for it to remain a wild animal and to return back to it's home after it had grown up a bit. He didn't really make a "pet" out of it more than he just looked after the little guy in the way it's mother might have, probably with Shadowheart's help.

He wouldn't be opposed to proper pets though if one were to stumble into his life. He'd definitely be more of a cat guy because of their independence and strong little attitudes.

It is very hard to build proper rapport with him. He will be "friendly" to most people who have a good sense of humor about them, but friendSHIP is another thing entirely.

I think it's kind of circumstantial. He's very economical in his relationships and doesn't really seek them out at all - so a situation where he's forced to be in someone's company might be the only way to develop a bond with him, as he doesn't appreciate insistence either and that's more likely to push him away. He doesn't value status or titles either (kind of looks down on them really) so that won't help.

I think he just likes people who are true to themselves and their nature, sometimes even if the nature is one he disagrees with at it's core. This is why he liked Gortash, why he and Shadowheart got along so well, and why him and Astarion fit together so seamlessly despite seeming so different. Likewise I think it's why he didn't jive with people like Gale or Wyll, because they seemed to be rather... Dishonest with themselves and their own end-goals.

#ask compilation #DU drow lore #ask

[ratsofarsonunite]

i thought of a yummy au you could draw:

the laser hits ballister instead of the queen and he "dies" but he doesnt die tho, Hes been in hiding for months trying to figure out who did it. imagine ambrosius's reaction to him being alive HEHEEHHEH

What a lovely day to traumatize ambrosius 👍

@puddlestheduck1 😈‼️ (i think this is puddle's au? 🤔)

Sorry this took so long 😭 under line break is added fan lore and the sketches 😈 ⬇️

*laughs hysterically*

So,... *insert very sped up writing mode* The laser hit Ballister instead of the queen, HE GETS HIS DUCKING ARM BLOWN OFF (ducking is appropriate because of puddles 😔) THE CHANDELIER THINGY FALLS LIKE IN THE MOVIE, EVERYONE THINKS HE DIED,-- *inhales* or... WHEN THE LASER NEARLY HIT BAL, AMBROSIUS TRYS TO KNOCK IT OUT OF HIS HANDS BEFORE HE GETS EVEN MORE HURT AND HE ENDS UP ACCIDENTALLY CHOPPING OFF HIS ARM 😭🤧

either beginning I'm fine with- 🤠 (help i feel like i need to stop with the emojis 💀)

Then the chandelier falls and everyone thinks he died, (including ambrosius) but... just like in the movie, there was a space below where he could escape and run into the forest to the random ass tower he has in the movie 🤓

Ballister stays there for a bit trying to figure out who tried to kill him with the 'murder wall'. While Ambrosius is...uh-

Nimona found the tower... (completely by chance i swear)

Not expecting to find Ballister trying to figure out who "murdered" him-

they become friends and stuff like in the movie 😦 (I'm lazy)

Maybe Nimona thinks he's a villain due to...well...the 'evil lair' and his *cough* emo clothes-- *cough* (thats just an idea tho :>)

Nimona: NO! You are not going to risk your life just to tell your boyfriend you're okay! Heck, for all we know, he could have been the one that tried to kill you!

Context: Ballister wanting to make sure Ambrosius is alright, and Nimona not wanting to risk Ballister actually getting killed this time (sorry I'm kinda rushing this i have to go somewhere soon 😭)

Random unrelated Ambrosius headcanon 👺 (atleast for this au- 😔)

ANNNNDDDDDDDDD back to the golden knight...and the bald bitch:

The Director: *wondering why the direct Descendant of Gloreth is in his room having a mental breakdown*

Also The Director: *'murdered' the love of his life*

AMBROSIUS: 🤠

Ambrosius' POV (sorry for the pov thing 😅): i miss him so much...it's like i can still hear him...

...

Wait--

ah yes the lore here is made out of lore (TYSM to the person that asked this, i enjoyed making it 🐀)

Happy ending :D (...or is it...they still haven't found out that the director tried to kill bal-- 😈)

EXTRA :D

full picture :>

(Also i'm planning to do some fanart of a spicy au soon...heheheheheh....)

#goldenheart #ballister x ambrosius #nimona #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #nimona movie #nimona fanart #nimona au #au #fanart #not my au

[sunnysam-my]

Hazbin Hotel redesign ideas p. 2

I am a bit of fashion, especially men's, history nerd, and I'm also a bit of radio nerd, so here I go, biblically accurate Alastor.

ALASTOR:

Alastor was a radio host (a radio star?) who lived and died in Louisiana. He was shot during a hunting accident, in the head, somewhere in the 1933, during radio's golden era. He cares greatly about his image and always smiles to show no weaknesses. He hates modern technology and doesn't allow his face to be captured by video recording or non black and white camera. His is mixed-race Creole.

Nothing about Alastor design make sense and it pisses me off. Not only it doesn't fit the time, it also doesn't fit his character! Besides, he is too red. He disappears into the background, especially walls of the Hotel.

Alastor cares about his image greatly, yet his clothes are torn. He is supposed to be like Hannibal, yet he looks like an edgelord wannabe. It's awful. I learned nothing about him from his design, other than "he's and old-time radio deer guy", and that's really bad.

Fashion in 30s was inspired by Hollywood, and sport and movies celebrities.

Back and white fashion in this period wasn't that different, at least for men, as long as you weren't poor, but here are some photos of specifically black fashion in 30s. In general I recommend that website if you want to look more into the fashion of this period.

His hair is completely wrong. And it's also really ugly lol. For richer black men a shiny straightening hairstyle was the go to since 1920s. One such style was "the conk" where one would chemically straighten their hair. It left hair shiny, but the process was painful and expensive. It literally could burn your scalp.

Another popular style was the brush wave. It's creating narrow waves rolling on top of head with the sides cut short and smooth. This hairstyle is still present to this day, but nowadays it's done on the whole head.

Other than that, men just wore their hair naturally, but short.

There is no focus on trousers or vest in Alastor's outfit. (Which is wild considering zipper fly was introduced in the early 30s, but was got popular by the mid ’30s). This was time of experimenting a bit with vests. If you wanted to look fancy and/or formal, you would wear a vest. Pants were wide legged, had a high waist and a single pressed line down the center of the leg. Some trouser waistbands were unique in the 1930s, for example a Hollywood waistband trouser. It had an extra wide band with a double row of buttons. They fit very high, overlapping the ribs. they often had netal ring tabs on the sides to tighten the pant to the correct fit without the need for belts or suspenders.

Also, monocle? Really? …Really? Here you go, read this if you're curious. Lots of pictures of glasses included. Glasses stayed essentially the same in 30s as they were in 20s. They were "round with a center bridge in the early years and an upper bridge in the later years. Frames could be tortoiseshell, black plastic, or thin metal." 

Moving on from fashion, because I could never shut up, microphones!

The most probabale one that everyone who is redesigning Al is drawing is a good old classic Carbon mic. It looks like a ring with a metal star and the microphone inside. It can be hand held or a staff.

But, if you wanna draw something different!

Other than Carbon mic there is also a Ribbon microphone (first row) and Moving Coil mic (second row). Unfortunately, they killed Alastor in the best part of the radio golden age, so the mics are still a bit ugly, not gonna lie.

How would I design him:

First things firsts, either he is mixed or he is white, because right now it just feels like a cheep excuse to have an "evil voodoo" character without getting too much backlash. Let's be honest, nobody thought he was a POC and that white face doesn't help. Again, just like I mentioned with Vel, when you're drawing a character with human like skin tone you have to be careful and think how it ties to their race.

Second - fashion. His outfit and hairstyle is a disaster. He has always tried to 'dress to impress', so obviously I would give him well maintained clothing and that 'high quality', formal style. I would give him the dark brown Hollywood trouser with buttons and dark crimson shirt, like dried blood almost. Under a coat or jacket he would have a brow vest, both the same colour as the pants. Highlights would be golden and green or purple. I for one would love to see him start out with a jacket/coat which he stops wearing inside the hotel after he bonds with the people inside it more, but he would still wear it outside and in the finale would put it on again, after his breakdown in the tower. This would show he began to trust the hotel residents a bit before he 'realises his mistake' after the battle. I would give him short haircut, because not even white people wore hair like that. (What in the Karen-core is it supposed to be?). Say goodbye to that monocle. Why is it even there there? Because he is old-timely? What is he, a children's cartoon villain? His design doesn't need more soulless clutter. Give me something that tells me about him as a character. I've seen people give him old radio as teeth or chest and I love it! When it's not too detailed, it's a great idea to make Alastor less like a living human but also less of… just a deer. He just looks like a deer demon. I would keep his shoes, hands and antlers, and give him ears that would fit the hairstyle I would go with.

[Edit: I forgot to mention, I would give him a time accurate hat or a free wavy lock of hair to cover the mark on his forehead where he was shot]

Thirdly, the microphone! My love. I remember the microphone used to be able to talk, but now it doesn't, unless I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure. Now it's just a weird look staff microphone with an eye and that's about it. But imagine something like a moving coil with the metal sign on top of it were the letters on it change. It could be a way it's communicating, in a simple way. This was it could still have a unique shape. That would have been fun to see. I can certainly imagine it being something of an 'unfiltered voice' of Alastor, where it would change it's writing into "Shut up", "Die" or something like that and he would hit it in a reprimanding way to reverse it to "Smile!". I'm just saying, that's a cool idea.

Well, this took forever to make, I actually forgot about this, so it just sat in my drafts. Anyway, if you want to see brilliant use of costumes and detailed, accurate depiction of fashion (especially black and queer) through history in New Orleans I recommend "Interview With The Vampire" (2022). It's also a great show.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel fanart #redesign #hazbin hotel criticism #hh #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #men's fashion #men's style #menswear #mensfashion #fashion #fashion history

[wasyago]

Hey I just came to my senses and Binged your Recks au Tag, and Boy do I wish I've been here from the Beginning. Curious if you're mostly keeping the Au based in season 8 or if you just take inspiration from the series as it comes.

Either Way, I've been in a long-time hermit-art slump and your stuff is Mad inspirational. Maybe it's Corny... I know I'm just a rando on the internet, but I hope you can understand how personal i mean this when I say your Recks Pearl has One. Of. The. Most. Appealing. Character. Designs. I have seen in Forever. Been months since I've reacted to a piece of art in the same way as seeing that one.

thank you so much for sharing your art

...

Also what kind of robot would Joel Be: closer to grian or pearl?

the au is mostly based on s8, but there are elements from previous and later seasons! plus it has its own "storyline" going so i pick and choose which elements to keep and which to pass.

and im so happy to know that you like pearl's design :D!!!!!!!!!!!!!! she's one of my most favorites, both in form and function the design is so fun and unique! like, changing forms and transorming while still staying pretty much the same, her arms being able to switch positions in the shoulder joint, the three bends in the limbs, her being absolutely massive..... pearl is just so cool 🤧

for your joel question.... im not sure, again i haven't thought about his role yet, where he would be or with who if anyone... but, hmm. i might take some inspiration from his empires1 "lore" and his hc intros, by him having a lot of copies who are technically the same robot but also different somehow? in which case he would be more easily manufactured so uhhh... i guess somewhere in the middle between pearl and grian? maybe a more humanoid model? sorry i have no idea, i really need to sit down and draw to figure it out

#yagotalk

[vividvivy]

Heya^^ could we get some romantic headcanons about kaiser, shidou and isagi having a artist/painter prodigy s/o?

Of course you can exclude anyone if it's too much! Anyways I hope you'll have a wonderful day or night and don't forget to hydrate^^

Notes: Hellooo! First request, I'm so happy oh my gosh. I had some trouble so I'll do the rest in separate parts, hope you don't mind!! 41°C here it's so hot omg. You stay safe and hydrated too!! Also sorry it's messy, I'm still trying to improve and I hope you'll like this! 😭

Pairing: Isagi Yoichi x Reader

Type: Headcanons

Genre: Fluff, Romance

Isagi Yoichi with an Art Prodigy S/O ♡︎

He leaves you for the damn ball.

JOKE.. I'M JOKING GUYS..

Would be the most understanding and considerate among the three. I'm not sure if Yoichi will actually understand, but he's still super supportive and would listen to you and assist you when you need any help or company.

Dates with him are so cozy and peaceful.

He'd stay in an art studio or any room at all and sketch and paint with you all day long. 

I think he'd be the type to try and draw you flowers or try to make you (+ him TOGETHER!!)

He'd be over the moon if you agreed to craft anything matching him. Something simple like paper rings, matching pins or brooches, and drawings of each other!!

Would put a drawing you made or a printed pic of you in his clear case.

His phone would be you-themed. Just you, him and your work.

Bonus: If you met as schoolmates or before Blue Lock, he'd try to make small silly doodles for you in class, and if you handed him any doodles, he'd sometimes cut them and place them in his ID case or hang them in his locker and use some of them as bookmarks.

Takes you shopping (would definitely randomly buy Art supplies that caught his eye and give them to you) or anywhere at all!!

His favourite place to stay would probably be in a café or restaurant that isn't too fancy, just somewhere with cute, homey vibes and a picturesque view.

He's TRYING to keep up with you when you invite him to paint together.. (Keyword: He's trying his best.) It definitely isn't the best thing out there but A for effort.

Tbh he always improves so quickly it's scary and makes you envious and proud sometimes..

If it bothers you and he notices, he'd act more clueless on purpose and would let you just guide him??

HAS A SEPARATE SKETCH BOOK WHERE HE KEEPS HIS DRAWINGS OF YOU!!

Made a little scrapbook dedicated to the 2 of u <3

He really REAAALLY admires you and your work.

In his eyes, you and your work are the best there are aside from soccer and being the best striker there is. He could stare at your papers and canvases hung up or scattered all day, admiring each stroke and line, even the finest ones, and looking at each shaded and highlighted area in awe.

His deep blue eyes shine so brightly when they meet your paintings and illustrations, yet no other sea of stars could replicate the shine seen in his gaze when completely in awe.  In awe of you.

When you're experiencing any artblocks or frustrations regarding it, he'd be your number one helper.

If it's a better environment and inspiration you need, he'd immediately try to take you places and show you works that you've made before for more inspo. Would try taking you to a soccer field or any open area outdoors too.

Barely knows what he's doing but he's got the spirit guys!!

During hard times, he'd be the first to go by your side and help you.

Would try to be the one to pull you out when all the stress and expectations swallow you whole (Again he's TRYING but all his attempts are most likely clumsy and slightly flawed..)

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #blue lock headcanons

[mfyo]

Something old I found in my sketchbook, sadly i don't have the digital version anymore but luckily I printed it out and glued it in my sketchbook :33 (I should have a different version of this picture somewhere were I drew him in a skirt but don't ask me where TvT)

One of the first digital drawings I actually did of Thiu!!! Also got tonnes of tcoaal fanart in here-

#art #artwork #fanart #thiu #thiu better half #better half #digital art #nemlei better half #thiu nemlei #sad thiu #digital illustration #sketchbook

[avalencias]

red moon rising….

#critical role #my things #imogen temult #we’ll not talk about how I haven’t been caught up in too many episodes I just love imogen #this did start as portrait practice but very rapidly……….evolved so here we are #as i’m sure you’ve all sussed out i’m incredibly stressed out and that’s why i’m drawing again #cheers! #ok also in reality I enjoyed this one bc it was a different….method of drawing/rendering? I was essentially re-showing myself how to do it #throughout and frankly I think it worked out for the better #so there’s that! #im sure I have the actual timelapse somewhere too……….

[alienssstufff]

Updated Gillion and Edyn designs as exercise

+the oldish Chip and Jay sketch from twt

#stufffsart #character concept stufff #I use it before but how DO u tag jrwi characters #jrwi riptide #jrwi fanart #jrwi #excuse to get myself to properly draw my edyn design cuz I like her :] #aslana too tho she is not here (I think of her) #despite being at ep99 no new armour design yet that stuffs hard :[ #also read a post somewhere abt gillion and his (lack of) fashion choices and why is that #-and the reason made me sads :( so for now he gets casuals instead :] #tags annotations are a MESS future roman fix these tomorrow

[andromedaisfree]

“what a fucking idiot”

#just like everyone else i am in love with planerider ryn #cr spoilers #critrole spoilers #planerider ryn #andromeda art #fanart #critical role fanart #critical role #critical role campaign 3 #cr 3 ep 43 #cr 3 ep 44 #what a fun funky tiefling character #always love one of those! #i saw someone else say it somewhere but planewalker ryn is so blorbo shaped #pretty sure it was another text post on here #also i’m not totally satisfied with this art but if i waited until that happened i’d never share it so here it is! #i’m trying to let loose and draw more sketches to share #but in the meantime take the fun stuff i work on #there’s more to come that i haven’t put out yet but i will post it! #so stick around :] #love y’all

[kkkkkkkitty]

#sonic the hedgehog #sth #last time I posted sonic it was a pregnant goth Sonic that my mom wanted me to draw & now she has it as her profile picture on Xbox & her #header on facebook #Hse also has an old tumblr blog somewhere which is insane... she was on here around maybe 2013/2014? whenever everyone was obsessed with #Nutella...I made my first blog in 2015. We were like ships passing in the night #tails the fox #miles tails prower

[acertainperson]

he's trying ok.

*stares*

#fanart #black christmas #black christmas 1974 #billy lenz #billy lenz fanart #IFORGOT MY PEN SO NOW I CAN'T DRAW ON MY IPAD IN CLASS #itchy fr...but i found a paper somewhere in my bag so yeah #also this is DEFINITELY NOT what i do haha #i am DEFINITELY NOT projectibg shits again.... #nuh uh. nothing here... #keeps forgetting... #slasher #slashers

[kellystar321]

woagh,, , herobrine, , ,,

#minecraft #herobrine #just having fun with brushes :> #throwback to. how i always drew hair in 2015 hkjgh #like most of my art this has also been stuck in the drafts for ages hkjhg #think ive got a gordon drawing buried somewhere in here #but heres this silly guy <33 #my favorite color is queue