#I don’t think art loves quite like humans love but it DOES love and will all of that power behind it

[kwillow]

Mail time. Theo clearly isn't the best candidate to lecture people on "good manners" but that's not going to stop him.

Also using this as a header for more LORE RAMBLES: THEO EDITION, because again I have more interesting asks about Theo than I can answer with drawings -- so REAMS OF WORDS it is!

Questions and answers under the cut...

Well, Theo isn’t terribly fond of the guy. He’s never met him, of course, but from his research into Old Kingdom history, he thinks of Ambroys as a conceited, shallow, disloyal, cowardly liar – and he’s not exactly wrong, ha.

If they met in the past, when Ambroys was his cocky, younger self, I think Ambroys would take advantage of Theo’s poor social skills and unpopularity by bullying him for some cheap points with other people who would find amusement in that. Ambroys wouldn’t have much use for him otherwise. Theo would spend far more time seething about Ambroys and plans for his revenge on that POMPOUS POPINJAY than Ambroys would spend thinking about Theo at all.

If they met in modern times – well that’s something we’ll address eventually, but Theo and Ambroys would not get along much better. Present-day Ambroys does not like mages one bit. Also, he is quite used to being literally worshipped. A little hater like Theo would not be looked upon kindly.

Thank you!! Now you too are present in a lore dump!

Theo is indeed a fan of the performing arts, and art in general (though he is, predictably, very particular in his tastes). Opera and such was performed during Ambroys’ time, and much of it was likely lost during the apocalyptic era between the time of the Old Kingdoms and the modern day, but I imagine some scant examples of the genre (and traditional plays by the likes of Furry Shakespeare, because Shakespeare is one of those people who just exists in every universe no matter how bizarre) would still survive into the Theo’s time.

Theo’s hometown of Northcrest would be too small and rural to have a real theatre, so experiencing “proper” performances would be rare treats for him, when he followed his mother on business excursions to the rich districts of Ironfrost. I love that you picked up on the fact that he would want his own private box, haha. He wants to observe, not be observed!

You’re right that musicals would probably still be in their vaudeville and burlesque era, and Theo would find them to be distasteful, vulgar pap suited only for the soft, feeble minds of the unwashed masses, not a refined intellectual like himself. (Which is funny because I think a real-world modern-day Theo would like musicals because in some ways, he is a theater kid without the charisma or confidence to actually perform.) While his mother did not enjoy theatre to the same extent he did (her tastes were more in feats of choreographry and human/anthro excellence like ballet), they would bitch about the decline of society together if they saw a poster for one of those terrible, gaudy cabaret catastrophes. In general, Theo hates anything modern and likes anything old-fashioned, and that shifts according to the decade he lives in. An Amaranthine Theo would hate swing music, but a real-world modern-day Theo would like it. Embarrassing!

Also, he will memorize and quote his favorite soliloquies at people for the faintest of reasons. Don’t test him.

No, I don’t think Hyden has strong enough arms or a sturdy enough back to lift an entire person, even one as little as Theo. Hyden might be large but he’s not as powerful as his height and bulk make him look. I think even Theo is more physically adept than Hyden is (and that’s not saying much).

Also, while he would learn to tolerate it from someone like Hyden (in the same way your cat might begrudgingly tolerate you grabbing their little feet), Theo does not like being picked up by people. I can speak from experience than when you’re a short person, people love to pick you up randomly to establish dominance and it’s not a very dignified experience. Theo has a hard enough time being taken seriously even without being lugged about like a wheezing sack of flour.

Theo would be the first to inform you he is not the person to consult on romantic matters. At the same time, he would still give his advice: stop being a fatuous little fool and turn your efforts to matters of greater importance, like work or supporting your family or collecting every edition of your favorite encyclopedia or hitting your head against a wall. All would be better ways to spend your energy.

(I think you’re alluding to a person with a crush on him – God knows why such a person would exist in his universe – asking him for romantic advice, but I feel compelled to specify that the message he’d give a man seeking instructions on how to deal with a lady would be akin to “GET A JOB. STAY AWAY FROM HER”)

(Or maybe you mean someone Theo has a crush on? Well, the answer would be the same. Theo isn't duplicitous enough or proud enough to try to swindle someone towards viewing him as a romantic prospect. But he sure wouldn't suggest they get with someone else. NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO BE IN LOVE. STOP IT, HE SAYS.)

Yes, those are self-inflicted injuries. He’s had a compulsion to bite and scratch himself ever since he was a kid. Sometimes as a punishment, sometimes as a ritual to quell distressing thoughts, sometimes out of the need to replace distressing sensations and events that are out of his control with one that is in his control, no matter how painful.

He does not particularly value his body nor its integrity. However, he is aware the scars are alarming, and finds them somewhat embarrassing reminders of his flaws in self-regulation. He deals with both the sight of the scars and the urge to harm by wearing his gloves, which is something he started doing in his late teens – they cover the marks and help redirect him by replacing the sensation of flesh with fabric when he goes to bite down.

On your question about Theo’s body-image: no, he does not care for how he looks. He likes that his eyes are grey (like mother’s) and that his fur is monochrome (like mother’s), and if pressed he might say the eyebrows aren’t bad, except for the parts where he’s pulled the hair out of them, but that’s it. He hates that he’s not just short but dwarfish, he does not like his heavy-set build, he would not choose to be born a rat, he despises his face, his teeth repulse him, he at least can make peace with the fact that he can’t grow facial hair because he’d never want a mustache like his father’s but it’s still somewhat emasculating, and on and on and on with the insecurities. He definitely feels physically inferior to other males. Your average man is not only much, much taller than him (and the world is cruel to a short king), but stronger and more classically virile as well. But he makes the best of that by dismissing those physical qualities as consolation prizes afforded to males who are obviously inferior to him intellectually, morally, and spiritually. He doesn’t care for brutes, but he doesn’t highly value machismo anyway… He thinks of himself as a gentleman whose best qualities reside in his mind and actions. A man who is reedy and petite but smarter or more charismatic than him is much more threatening to his ego than the bulkiest bruiser. (However, he will still try to fight both for dominance, either physically or verbally, and probably lose.)

Theo is highly offended and disgusted by nudity, both other’s and his own. Even states of mild undress are distressing to him, hence why he looks away when buttoning Hyden’s shirt. He’s willing to stomach some discomfort when it comes to helping a loved one, but only if it’s strictly necessary. He would pointedly not look and scold someone, even someone he was more comfortable with, if they were “too underdressed,” and freak out if they came into his vicinity in the nude. I think it would take years of gradual desensitization to lessen his negative reactions to nudity. It’s not just him being fussy, it borders on a phobia.

(Haha this shows how long I sit on asks before I get around to answering them SORRY...!!!!)

I don’t talk about it a lot because while the character’s sexual orientations do inform their lives and development, romance and sex are not usually at the top of my priority list when it comes to my stories… but I’ve alluded and mentioned directly that Theo is “canonically” bisexual (always feels weird to say “canon” about my imaginary friends, ha). But he is in denial/in the closet about it. Of course, he wouldn’t be aware of the concept of “bisexuality”, nor would that exact label exist in his world, so it’s not like he would identify that way even if he wasn’t repressing hardcore.

He is revolted by sex and intimacy, but that’s more due to his psychological baggage, his perception of his parent’s relationship and his cultural mores than something necessarily inborn or inherent to him.

(Hyden is actually Also Straight, possibly even straighter than Ambroys if we’re measuring by “creator’s admittance that character may be bi-curious one day.” I have a track record.)

Only if it’s karmic in some way, involving a person or persons he’s already predisposed to hating. Granted, dying of one’s own stupidity would be a form of justice in his eyes, but there’s limitations to that. Hearing about, say, an incident like Nutty Putty cave would not be amusing even though he would argue it’s the cave explorer’s “own fault” for going in there because it was such a gruesome and prolonged end, far outweighing the punishment Theo would find fair for such hubris. Of course, if the same cave explorer bullied him in prep school, then yes, it would be hilarious.

I don’t have a character named Herbert, so I am assuming you mean Theo here, from context. :’D

I’d like to draw Theo practicing his fencing some day! It’s on The List along with, er, fifty other drawings, ha. There’s just so much I need to make and so little time…

But besides that, Theo is not a particularly sporty guy. He doesn’t tend to enjoy competitive sports, either participating or watching. Physically he’s just not suited to them, and his schoolboy days did not endear him to them.

He does enjoy taking walks and admiring picturesque landscapes. He also hunted with his mother. One of the duties of the Norths is (or was, before he started shirking all his duties to focus entirely on his madness quest) to eliminate monstrous predators lurking on the outskirts of their territory before they could terrorize the mundane locals. Mages can sense magic, and thus are more capable of tracking down and felling corrupt magical beasts than your average person. Also, sometimes one wants a pheasant for dinner on special occasions. So, he grew up learning to hunt, and he’s decent with a rifle. He doesn’t go out to do much anymore, though. His mother’s death and subsequent self-imposed isolation exacerbated his already present issues with social phobia and paranoia, so he doesn’t feel safe outside his house. Someone could see him out there, and Something could happen. (He isn’t sure what exactly, but surely nothing good.)

During the course of Amaranthine’s story he is, of course, forced to go outside again and travel, so he’ll rediscover his hobby of killing animals again. …Good for him. I suppose.

(This is in reference to the tags I put on my post of Theo's romance meme: #ok one piece of commentary: brain problems + highly repressed upbringing = where i put theo on the kinky slider. it had to be there #you should think less '50 shades' and more '50 year old guys waxing poetic about quicksand scenes in old adventure films' for that one #he's not a quicksand guy. but that's the vibe.)

Hahaha, I appreciate your curiosity, but I’m not sure if it’s a terrific idea to share Theo’s “quicksand” equivalents. Alas, I don’t want to encourage the perception that my characters exist to be romantic or sexual wish-fulfillment, instead of the dysfunctional little narrative fidget toys they are, by going too in-depth too often on their hypothetical sex lives. Also, I get my (un)fair share of fetish-mining asks, and if I mention certain kinks, the senders of those asks might think they can wheedle that kind of smut art from me, which… is not the case, even if I did like the things Theo is partial to. Frankly, I don’t have time to draw smut art when I have so many comics of my characters angsting at each other that I ought to be drawing instead!!!

Anyway, complaining over. But I do know what Theo’s “interests” are, and don’t worry, they are suitably cringe. I find amusement in giving embarrassing proclivities to all my favorite characters, even if it will never come up in their stories. It keeps them humble.

The Theo befriending scenarios are becoming more elaborate…!

Magic can’t really do that in Amaranthine (it’s more limited than a lot of people think)! But even if you could, I think Theo might realize something was off eventually. Granted, he is blind to a lot of manipulation when he trusts someone, and for his own stupid reasons he trusts Hyden, so that alone would provide cover for some time. Being nice to him in Hyden’s guise might even fulfill some boyhood dreams of his, so that helps too. Still, I don’t think anyone but Hyden could manage to act like Hyden forever.

Theo abhors liars, manipulators, and traitors (I know, this is very funny considering I just talked about how Theo likes Hyden – again, Theo is not a great judge of character). While he would be mortified at his own gullibility, it’s not like he’d spare you any judgment for being the one to take advantage of his hospitality in the first place.

So, in attempting to befriend him, you would have 1) caused harm to someone he has charged himself with protecting by kidnapping Hyden, 2) committed the sin of deceiving him and 3) wounded his ego by exposing a huge vulnerability in his psychological armor. These are not crimes he is likely to excuse. Among Theo’s many faults are his capacity for spite and appetite for disproportionate vengeance. In other words, he would want to hurt you very, very badly.

Anyway, in summation, this is not a great way to try and win Theo’s affection. If befriending something hostile is what you’re after, I’d recommend purchasing a pet cobra or something, it would be more rewarding and less difficult to manage.

Ooh, this is another one of those “it depends” sort of questions… an Amaranthine Theo is completely unsuited for parenthood because he is just totally off his rocker and devoted to an impossible, nature-impugning, corruptive madness quest, so there’s not really much space left in his brain for any of the tasks involved in parenting.

Also, how well and in what way he would approach parenting would depend on if he has a partner and who they are, if the kid is biological (and therefore an extension of the North line) or adopted (and therefore might be spared some of those expectations), and what the kid or kids are like.

But, I’ll try to speak generally. He does put an importance on family so he would not be neglectful. In fact, I think he’d tend towards being smothering, way too over-protective. He would have high expectations for their academic career (despite flopping in his own) and would be upset if his children didn’t share his interest in intellectual pursuits. He lacks a lot of knowledge about life, and so he wouldn’t be able to pass that on to his children, despite desiring that they be self-sufficient and capable. He would try and keep them from being romantically involved until they could marry, which he wouldn’t think would be difficult considering how he himself is, but I think he would be disappointed and frustrated by the fact that most people (and therefore probably his kids) aren’t so averse to macking on other teenagers in their school days. His tendency towards being neurotic and temperamental would be an issue, and I think even if he tried to control his explosive tendencies around his children, they’d still pick up on it and be afraid of his moods. I think, with his immature development, he would have a lot of difficulty not descending to a teenager’s level of petty sniping if his teenage child did what teenagers do and started challenging him.

So… this is not painting a rosy picture. Don’t get me wrong, he’d try his best, and he would aim to be a good, supportive, and loving parent, but the man has issues. He wouldn’t be perfect. He might not even be good. He is Theo, after all.

Speaking of parenthood, let's get into some...

Family Matters

NO, they did not like each other. Their passive-aggression is as genuine as it is petty. They were the most divorced people to still technically be married.

Love was never in the cards for these two. The marriage was purely strategic, and all parties were aware of that. Leonard would have liked to have his wife love him, if only because it would be much more pleasant and convenient for him, but it wasn’t a requirement. He could seek love elsewhere if need be. He was always an opportunistic fellow that way.

Jo never held fondness for Leonard, either before or after their engagement. The marriage was at the behest of her father, and Jo had always put her duties to her family line above whatever selfish wants she might have had. She was willing to tolerate Leonard, which is about the best you could expect from her. However, he tried her patience too often to maintain even that level of camaraderie.

Leonard liked how Jo looked, and he liked the idea he had of her personality. Because Jo was deferential to her father, he assumed she would be similarly deferential to him. Hahaha. Not so. After her father passed, she inherited the Barony and thus, in her mind, the right to dictate the use of her family’s assets, the alliances she would forge with her noble connections, and the future of her estate. All her plans conflicted sharply with Leonard’s ideas of what he was going to do with the North’s influence, and he thought himself the keeper of their assets by patriarchal right. They clashed often and they both were too proud, power-hungry, and conniving to reconcile.

Leonard stayed because giving up the marriage would be giving up his avenue to social power. If he wanted to appear like he held the reins to potential allies and business connections, he had to stay in the manor, stay in Northcrest, and keep that ring on his finger. But he did take a very “I just live here” attitude to his home life. Jo stayed because her family’s long-held values maintained that it was her duty to do so, and to falter in her duties would be a permanent black stain on her good name. Also, it proved her superiority to the clearly weak-willed, dissolute Leonard, and that was an ego boost she wouldn’t pass up.

AHAHAH. THEO PEGGED FOR INBRED.

Yes, well, as you intuited, the Norths are one of those inbred noble families, like those you mentioned.

They’re a mage bloodline, and in the old days, mage nobility was a separate form of titled aristocracy from mundane nobility. Legitimate heirs had to have magical ability. If a mundane Viscount produced a mundane child, that was the end of the line of inheritance. Hence, noble mages in the Old Kingdoms only married other mages, to try to ensure their offspring could inherit their titles. While not all practiced inbreeding, it was a practice some families employed to try to “enhance” the magical ability and purity of their line, or just keep their wealth and power within their family (the Hyden family is another infamous example).

However, most magical lineages were wiped out during the fall of the Old Kingdoms, and those that survived were scattered to remote areas of the continent. Very few mages still exist, and the North family is one of the only lineages to survive “intact” to the modern day. They cling to their family’s history and their magical bloodline as their source of power and would never risk a union with a mundane. Like many other old traditions best left in the past, the Norths clung to the old ways, marrying within their line, inbreeding like an endangered species (which I suppose you could argue they were).

Of course, as the North’s numbers declined, the marriages shifted from pairing distant relatives to being cousin-cousin pairs. That level of consanguinity isn’t great for your offspring’s health or fertility, as it turns out, and further diminished their numbers (and options) until it came time for Jocosa to make their dying lineage limp along for another generation. By the time she was of age, there were no branches on the family tree left to harvest a husband from. Thus, the Norths needed to go further afield of the stagnant gene pool they’d been festering in.

Because of that, Theo is arguably a bit less inbred than previous generations of his family. The damage was already done, though. The fruits of the North’s unfortunate marriage practices have garnered them a deserved reputation for weak bodies, sick minds and dying young, and so far, Theo is two-for-three. We’ll see if he gets the triple.

Related to the above: if you haven’t realized already, the Norths are fucking freaks. Especially in the modern day of Amaranthine, caring about matching species in a marriage is seen as hyper-traditionalist, bizarre and absurdly impractical. But, well, the Norths are all those things. Jocosa’s parents were a stoat-stoat pair, their parents were stoat-stoat, and so on up the family tree, with maybe some rare exceptions where you might find a few polecats or minks scattered about in amongst the other long pointy-faced carnivores. Jocosa’s parents really would have preferred to have another mustelid marriage rather than wed their daughter to a rat.

But, that was a preference, and magical ability was a necessity. When Jocosa needed to marry, there were no other magical stoats, weasels, or even an otter for them to choose from.

That’s when an opportunistic young rat caught wind that there was a beautiful noble girl in need of a husband, just when he needed a rise in social station. Leonard was reasonably wealthy, and more importantly charming, quick-witted, and not afraid of lying his ass off to close a deal. He befriended Jocosa’s father and was able to delicately pick his way around or find loopholes in the Norths’ strict rules for marriage. Importantly for the Norths, Leonard had magical ability, albeit extremely weakly. You might say he was a sparkler while Jocosa was a flamethrower (in this analogy, in his prime, Hyden was an atomic bomb). Not ideal, but Leonard had enough magic to count as a mage for heir-producing purposes. Ultimately, Jocosa’s parents saw Leonard as the best option in a bad situation, rat or no. Preferable to dying out altogether, at least.

...

AND ON THAT, UH, HAPPY NOTE: thanks for reading and thank you all as always for sending questions about my little guy and being interested in him, even with all his slimy, weird, unpleasant foibles and flaws!

[maxdibert]

Hii I'm a new follower to your blog, but a quick question (this is after I read your 5 most hated Harry Potter characters, and I agree mostly, ESPECIALLY on Dumbledore): what's your opinion on Darco Malfoy?

Just curious...

Hi there! Thanks for following!! ^^

So, let’s talk about Draco. I always tread carefully when it comes to him because I don’t want to romanticize the character, but at the same time, reducing him (as Rowling does) to this über-evil bully feels shallow and shortsighted.

Draco is essentially a James Potter. He’s a rich, spoiled kid whose parents have always given him everything he wanted and treated him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. And yes, lots of people claim Lucius was abusive, but I don’t think that’s accurate. Lucius was a classist fanatic with terrible ideas, but that doesn’t necessarily make him a bad parent. Some folks don’t understand that you can be a terrible human being while still treating your kids well. History is full of examples of people who were absolute trash as human beings but were doting parents, and vice versa: people revered for their contributions to peace or human rights but who, behind closed doors, were awful to their families (looking at you, Gandhi and Mother Teresa).

Draco trusted his father to the point that he felt comfortable writing to him and complaining about every minor inconvenience at Hogwarts. That’s not indicative of abusive or neglectful parenting—it’s quite the opposite. It shows a kid so confident in his parents’ support and protection that he doesn’t hesitate to make a fuss over, say, the Saturday meal in the dining hall. Draco, like James, also believes he has the right to pick on certain people based on what identifies them. Draco mocks people for being Gryffindors or Muggle-born, while James bullied Severus for being a Slytherin and having an interest in the Dark Arts. Both of them feel justified within their own moral frameworks to target specific groups. However, one thing we can say in Draco’s favor is that he never publicly stripped anyone or orchestrated a “prank” that nearly got someone killed by a werewolf (that was Sirius but still-)

That said, if there’s one way Draco differs from James, it’s in the political alignment of his parents. But ultimately, it’s the same situation: rich parents fervently instilling a set of values in their upper-class kids who, because of their privilege and never having been told “no,” completely believe in these ideas and stomp over anyone who challenges them. The only difference is that the values James’s parents passed on were “the good ones,” while Draco’s upbringing trained him to be a massive bigot.

Draco is the typical smug, self-satisfied kid from an ultra-conservative family who has never stopped to question those ideas—and why would he? They’re part of his privileged world. He has a comfortable, conflict-free life. His parents love and support him, his friends share the same beliefs, and in his social circle, these ideologies are considered virtuous. Why would he question them? Nothing in his life sets off any alarms. He’s never suffered, and this ideology has never negatively impacted him or his family.

Then Voldemort returns. The chaos in the Department of Mysteries happens, and Lucius falls from grace. Suddenly, Voldemort’s followers aren’t these wealthy, powerful wizards he always thought they were. They’re pawns to a psychopath who severely punishes anyone who becomes useless. That’s when Draco begins to realize this isn’t a game. It’s not something to joke about with his friends or mock other kids over during recess. This is war, and war costs lives. And he’s on the side of a madman who wants him to kill Dumbledore. But Draco doesn’t want to kill Dumbledore. Sure, Dumbledore’s a dick, and maybe he shouldn’t be headmaster because he clearly plays favorites, but just because Draco dislikes him doesn’t mean he wants him dead—let alone that he wants to be the one to do it.

Draco can be nasty, petty, and insufferable, but he’s not a murderer. He doesn’t want to kill anyone, but he has no choice because if he doesn’t, Voldemort will kill him and his family—or worse, kill his family first and then him, just to drive the point home.

Draco never particularly interested me as a character until this moment when he realizes what his ideology truly entails and what it means to follow someone like Voldemort. That’s when he stops being a kid playing at being a dark wizard and starts seeing the real consequences of it—and he doesn’t like what he sees. There’s a big difference between holding certain political ideas and being dragged into a spiral of gratuitous violence. He doesn’t want to be part of it. And I think that makes him incredibly human (despite whatever Rowling might say, because she can eat my ass). It’s something that happens to a lot of kids who grow up in environments like his.

I went to a Catholic school full of kids from ultra-conservative families, and I knew people like Draco. People who, as they grew older, started to realize that the ideas they’d been taught to repeat without much thought could become genuinely dangerous. I don’t think Rowling intended this—because she’s pretty one-dimensional when it comes to aligning her characters into good and bad camps—but what she ended up doing with Draco in the end was turning him from a caricature of a bratty bully into a painfully realistic character.

I have a lot of compassion for Draco. He learned his lesson the hard way. But honestly? That’s fine. He needed a reality check, and he got one.

[blue-mood-blue]

I can pinpoint the moment that destroyed my life today:

It’s been a handful of weeks since Murderbot came within inches of having a new, organic governor module implanted in its head via infection - do you think, maybe, that’s also been hiding behind the redacted? Not the way everything else is, just as a deep-seated reminder of what it can’t afford to lose?

What a way to be told “I love you” - to be told “I will not lose you, I will not let go, I will do the hard part of holding on even if you don’t want me to”

[itsthatmff]

How would opm saitama, genos, and garou react to having an monster female s/o but is very docile and kind and just wants to live a normal life and has a human disguise

This ones so cute o mah gad immediately had to do it

Opm guys with a Monster S/O

Included: Genos, Saitama, Garou

fem!reader

Requests are open !!

Genos

Very wary about you at first

The first time you two meet is around noon at the Ghost town of city Z when he returns from getting groceries for Saitama.

In an alleyway he hears a commotion and goes to check it out when he sees that there are two monsters getting into a fight.

Of course he immediately goes into combat mode thinking that you two could be a threat for the citizens.

But it’s when you save him from that other monster you were fighting with that he’s completely startled.

“So not all monsters are driven by malice…interesting..”

He feels a connection between the two of you and can relate very much as you two have had similar experiences before with not fitting in to society due to not being full humans.

is VERY intrigued and interested by you therefore he decides to stick by your side to analyze your art and nature for research purposes. Those hangout’s eventually turn into dates.

He likes you both in your human and monster form and encourages you to like every part about yourself too.

Will support you 100% in wanting to lead a normal life and fit in with the humans. Even though his knowledge about what humans his age do is very limited as well he tries to teach you what he knows.

“I have heard that it is quite popular around young people to visit crepe shops. Shall we try them?”

Honestly best bf to ever have. Will love you even if you’re a worm. (Doesn’t show it a lot though)

Saitama

I’m telling y’all this guy DOES NOT CARE wether you’re human or not.

He saved you in your human form once (some monsters attacked you because they could tell from your smell that you were a monster as well) and thought you were so attractive from the get-go.

He did have his suspicions as he could sense a different kind of aura from you but did not question it.

A week into dating it was that you came clear to him about your “true form”, already expecting that he’d immediately break up with you.

“Oh really? Yeah that’s calm.”

Doesn’t feel betrayed or alarmed because he’s known you for long enough to tell that you were a good person, monster or not.

He does ask you random questions sometimes though

“So like..do you eat human flesh? Monster flesh? No? Oh okay.”

“Is it true that you turn into your true form every full moon? You’re telling me only werewolves do that?? Geez I was just asking..”

Whenever you feel insecure he reassures you and comforts you.

Always takes you out to go grocery shopping with him because he can tell that you enjoy doing regular things such as these.

Gets judged big time by Genos for dating you but he doesn’t care.

Garou

Thought of you as his rival/opponent for the longest time.

Whenever he’d see you around in your human form he could sense this aura coming from you assuming that you were a strong fighter when not knowing that you simply were a monster.

He’d bother you every time and ask you for a fight and every time you’d have to kindly decline saying that you had no idea how to fight.

“Don’t lie to me I can sense that you’re powerful. One fight won’t hurt ya cmon..”

Around the 6th time you came across him you decided to just come straight with the truth.

“So you’re telling me..you’re a monster..but ya dont fight?”

Is hella confused but just rolls with it. He decides to stick by your side just for the sake of it. And he couldn’t deny that you were absolutely gorgeous at that.

Would ask you out in the most blunt and straightforward way.

You’d both be talking about how it was so hard for you to find any love interests because most of the human guys would get scared if they were to find out you’re a monster

Which he would straight up answer with “why dont you date me then?”

Very overprotective boyfriend. He prefers you in your monster form actually and encourages you to just be yourself but the moment ANYONE dares to give you a wrong look he’ll beat them to a pulp

Even when you’re in your human form he just assumes that people might stare at you because they know you’re a monster so he cusses at them (he isn’t the smartest guy out there)

Doesn’t really know what personal space is so he will be all up in your business as a monster and a human.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

As for the "Is Skully Secretly Jacked?" debate, I would like to bring up a point made by someone in the tags of the post that started said debate:

The twins do kinda-sorta look like twigs. Granted, they aren't human, but still.

And in my opinion, Vil and Rook both look like twigs as well.

[Referencing this post and this post!]

My response includes many example images that are MASSIVE spoilers for book 7 cards (which haven’t been released in EN yet!!) so please proceed with caution.

I think a lot of the characters definitely look like twigs due to their in-game live 2D models usually not accurately depicting their actual bodies. Just as an example, here are what the twins look like in live 2D:

... And here is what the twins look like in (Mermaid Fin SSR) card artwork. You can see there is a MAJOR discrepancy.

We also see this in Floyd's Club Wear card. His arms are much more defined in the card art and are noodle thin in the live 2D model:

It's not just the twins either. Another notable nerf between the card art and the live 2D models occurs with Silver and Sebek. I mean, just LOOK at their arms in the P.E. Uniform cards... and then how sad and limp they look in the actual gameplay...

Vil and Rook are entirely different cases. Both of them are typically wearing long sleeves, which conceals their bodies and gives the illusion of lacking muscle.

It was stated in the Magical Archives that Rook is beefier than Trey (who is quite strong from playing soccer as a kid and helping out at the Clover family bakery). It also makes sense for Rook’s character as a huntsman wanting to hide his presence (thereby making it easier for him to observe his prey). Showing off how big of a threat he actually is with his physique out on display defeats the whole purpose.

Without the arms covered, we can see how truly muscular Rook is—though again, the live 2D model is greatly toned down.

Vil, meanwhile, is in a separate category. He is strong too—this much is true! However, his build ISN’T jacked up like Sebek, Silver, Rook, etc. Why? Vil states that he dutifully trains to maintain his figure as a model but is also mindful that he doesn’t get too bulky, as that wouldn’t be aesthetically desirable for his work. You can still be strong while being lithe. Think about dancers, for example.

Vil has also demonstrated in side content such as the Sunset Savanna hometown event and Beans Day that he’s able to take down opponents far larger than him using tactics besides brute force. This includes using his foe’s weight against them to toss them and acting gravely injured to make his foe cocky.

And now let’s revisit Skully! I’d say he definitely doesn’t LOOK bulky, whether in his art or in the live 2D model.

For the sake of argument, let’s say he’s hiding massive arms under his suit. But like… where exactly?

Unlike the sleeves we normally see, the Nightmare Suits are visibly stitched. They can only be so effective for holding together. Just looking at the artwork, it doesn’t look as though Skully’s arms are straining to be freed or pushing back against the seams.

Okay, so what if Skully’s instead like Vil and has a lean frame that hides a surprising amount of strength? I don’t really buy this either because no lore supports it. Vil trains extensively because his career demands it and he is a tenacious person. What reason does Skully have to keep in such shape? He isn’t really described as an athlete or dedicated to health or something along those lines. Boy just LOVES Halloween. There isn’t a clear lore reason why Skully would want to get (excuse me for the pun) jacked.

So yeah, that’s why I don’t believe Skully’s secretly physically strong. He’s literally just… lanky.

[meanbossart]

Hey! I was thinking of trying to write something for you about DU Drow but after a trying to gather stuff about him via your page I’m struggling to get something substantial for his personality- like I get it mostly (I think?) but it’s hard to put into words (which makes it easier for me) so if it’s not too much to ask; how would you explain DU Drows personality and maybe some of his values? - if you don’t mind! I love your art BTW!

Man, this is a tough ask and I MADE the guy. The fic is definitely the best place to see his personality in action, but it is also 20 chapters long so far - and I'm a fairly reasonable man.

Before I get to any descriptions, there's two important things to note: A) Overwhelmingly, his looks do not match his demeanor. and B) DU drow is extremely hedonistic in practice. He might claim to have certain beliefs or standards but hardly ever practices them.

Anyways, I present to you: The guy, more-or-less summarized to the best of my abilities.

BEHAVIOR: Purposefully standoffish. He wants to be noticed, but he does not want to be bothered. He's a little bit stiff with his body language and mostly makes use of head/neck gestures to assert his sentences and signal his level of interest. On that note, me makes it extremely obvious for the socially-versed individual to tell what he thinks of them - he hardly ever tries to hide if he's disinterested, annoyed, or having a laugh at your expense. He expresses emotion through his face a normal amount, but his default look is eerily bland, and subtle emotions might go unnoticed because of his eye-color and thin brows.

As it is with most people, the more uncomfortable he is with a situation the more stiff and inexpressive he becomes, and vice versa.

SPEECH: DU drow is very much well spoken, and simultaneously very blunt. He abides by most conversational formalities (definitely more formal than you would assume him to be) and basic etiquette. He will greet you and he will say please and thank you even if clearly not meaning it or feeling like you're unworthy of the gesture. Sometimes, he does it just to be patronizing.

With all of that in mind, he has a tendency to use violent turns of phrase and analogies to express himself, this applies to both negative and positive feelings. That being said he's aware of social norma and knows full well when things are or aren't appropriate, even if sometimes he chooses to ignore that and be weird anyway - usually with the purpose of intimidation.

He is the most earnest and sincere with very close friends (quite literally only Astarion and Shadowheart) and rather curt with everyone else unless you catch him in a particularly good mood. He's a little chummier with dwarves and duergar (he finds them amusing and fun to hang out with) and reserves a slight bit more tenderness and kindness for children and mothers, especially if they're elves. He's also fond of animals. He is dismissive of gnomes, goblins, bugbears, half/full orcs and hobgoblins. He despises githyanki and drow. He treats humans fairly respectfully but thinks they are a far lesser race than pretty much all others.

He has a very dark/offensive sense of humor and a tendency to make well crafted, but cruel jokes or quips about sensitive topics. This goes for everybody, including people he's on good terms with.

VALUES: Here's where things get tricky. DU drow is both a hypocrite and a unreliable narrator of his own story, not to mention deeply unfamiliar with his own inner-workings and feelings. Politically, he would be the guy who doesn't vote, doesn't want to pay taxes and dreams of living off the grid, who thinks everybody should pull themselves up by the bootstraps and that it's a dog-eats-dog world. He hates systems of government, authority figures, hierarchical structures and archaic customs. He believes it would a chaotic but functional world if people governed themselves.

In practice, he doesn't stand for anything and gladly overlooks injustices and things that don't align with his supposed values as long as they favor him, or just don't get in his way, and easily makes exceptions for things on a whim. He's indifferent to slavery; unless it's Astarion's. - He thinks humans are a worthless pet-race, except for his dearest and nearest friend, the half-elf Shadowheart. He thinks Half-orcs are intellectually inferior, but he will gladly be chummy with them if they amuse him and make for good-company during a night-out.

INNER WORLD AND INTIMACY: DU drow is extremely unfamiliar with his own emotions and very often comes up empty when he has to justify or explain anything that is based on feeling, while simultaneously operating on impulse and instinct for the vast majority of the time. He is subject to fear, resentment, and insecurity as much as anyone else, but carries a deep shame in acknowledging his own vulnerability at all. He is very intense when it comes to love, however, and shows no reluctance in expressing it through his words and actions towards the people he cares about. He does care for the levels of comfort of those dearest to him though, and doesn't bombard them with it unless the moment is right, or if overwhelmed into doing so. The same applies to physical affection - he's extremely comfortable with it, but cares deeply for respecting the boundaries of his loved ones. When it comes to strangers, he only touches them outside of combat if there is some kind of power-game at play.

A couple of other things that might be of note:

-He likes creature comforts, but is also fine with going without them and won't ever complain about having to live, sleep, or survive in less-than-ideal circumstances as long as he feels in control of the situation. -He can be enticed by valuables and gold because they make the immediate future easier, but he doesn't seek a life of vast riches. -He is not an alcoholic but probably has a binge-drinking problem. -While he is fond and respectful of animals, he has no issues killing them if the situation calls for it. -He pretty much always believes himself to be the most impressive person in the room. -He is not a vain man, but very much likes the way that he looks and to have it be acknowledged by his partner. -He believes faith, religion, and gods to be a waste of time.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me as Disenchantment Quotes #1

Lucifer & Satan: *Laughing maniacally*

Simeon: “While I question their evil motives, it is nice to see them happy.”

Barbatos: “Now announcing the triumphant return of our heroes from their quest that we all privately thought would fail.”

Mammon & Leviathan: “…”

Lucifer: “How do we even know it worked.”

Solomon: “Oh but it must have worked. Now to test it, we need a volunteer to kill you.”

Belphegor: “Dibs.”

Barbatos: “How can you keep messing up a recipe with two ingredients?”

Solomon: “If you ever run into trouble give them this note.”

MC: “Kill me?”

Solomon: “Thirteen gave it to me, now I give it to you.”

Leviathan: “I’ve been meaning to…but the thing is, I…so you see…well, I’m glad we had this talk. How bout you talk now?”

MC: “But you haven’t said anything yet.”

Belphegor: “Well I was waiting to tell you until after I was dead so I wouldn’t have to tell you.”

Mammon: “Now just keep holding on, okay. Just keep holding on.”

MC: “It’s okay, it’s okay Mammon, I always wanted to go out while I’m still young and hot.”

Leviathan: “I didn’t want to tell you because I’m terrified of female emotions.”

Satan: “No, no, no, I was mostly raised by Lucifer. And a bunch of friendly drunks down at the pub. They taught me the fine art of stabbing.”

Barbatos: “It’s just too painful seeing the truth all the time.”

Solomon: “Ah, that’s why humans tend to avoid it.”

Belphegor: “The profession left without me.”

Diavolo: “Oh, that’s too bad.”

Belphegor: “I blame myself, cause I didn’t even notice.”

Solomon & Barbatos: *fighting*

Asmodeus: “Guys, guys come on. I’m much more embarrassed than I am aroused.”

Asmodeus: “MC, you poor baby. What a horrific day you’ve had. Let’s have too much wine and forget about it all.”

Beelzebub: “How’d you become a weird talking cat.”

Satan: “You keep shoving waffles in your mouth while I think of an answer.”

Thirteen: “I’ll use my skills as a hunter and Raphael will use his diplomacy to stab them with a broom handle.”

Solomon: “I used to spend many nights up here. Watching the sky, the moon, the neighbors.”

Lucifer: “This is your home. You’re free to explore.”

MC: “Wow, what’s behind that door?”

Lucifer: “None of your business nosy.”

Mammon: “Maybe you were overcome by chimney fumes. It happens quite frequently in a place like this with no chimnies.”

Satan: “What family curse? You mean insanity?”

Leviathan: “No, don’t be crazy. But yes I mean insanity.”

Asmodeus: “You guys are heavy. Do I really need both of you?”

Solomon & Satan: “Yes!”

Asmodeus: “Damn, I hate democracy.”

Mammon: “I knew you could count on me!”

Simeon: “What’s this called again?”

Mammon: “A a massage. It’s like a light well intentioned beating.”

Diavolo: “You’re clearly upset.”

Lucifer: “I’m not upset!”

Diavolo: “You said that like you were upset!”

MC: “Come on Belphegor be reasonable!”

Belphegor: “Never!”

Satan: “We’re gonna have to wing this in a dangerously half assed manner.”

Mammon: “That’s the Morningstar way.”

Asmodeus: “There’s plenty of fish in the sea, Sol.”

Solomon: “Like hell am I marrying another fish woman.”

Lucifer: “Disappointment’s a form of caring.”

Diavolo: “Tell me, where are you from.”

Solomon: “A country setting, it’s kind of like a farm but more stabbing.”

Simeon: “This whole thing feels like a weird dream.”

Mammon: “Or scurvy. When does scurvy kick in?”

Lucifer: “Believe it or not I know what it feels like to be burned alive by a mob of idiots.”

Beelzebub: “Oh, sweet butter, you’re the only thing right with the world.”

Solomon: “Morning, Belphegor! Care to try my new cure all? It wards off the deadly plague.”

Belphegor: “I’m actually hoping for death. Thanks though.”

Mammon: “For the first time in my life I feel completely calm and—“

Mammon: *Gets attacked by hawk*

Satan: “I’ve loved you since the moment you killed my brother.”

Mammon: “You don’t scare me! I was born scared.”

[gravitycavity]

Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 7 - Only Human

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

Cover art by @blukiar

A thin ribbon of carpet, stretching just as far into infinity as the narrow corridor itself, explored distant depths soaked in darkness. A never-ending chain of chandeliers spanned the ceiling, cracked bulbs flickering in and out as they pleased. The experience was disorienting, to say the least — cruel and unusual torture, to say a little bit more. 

There was but a single source of reliable light in the entire hallway: the unassuming windows staged on the eastern wall in neat little quintets. Each glass-paned portal hosted a pair of tattered curtains that fluttered carelessly with the rhythm of the wind. 

Assorted furniture was scattered along the periphery, breaking up the tiring monotony of it all. An odd, uncanny energy surrounded their existence. Nothing besides the occasional lamp was mounted upon the dust-caked tables, and only a handful of random knick-knacks found home on the bookshelves. Nothing seemed to be placed with any thought or purpose in mind, as if something non-human were desperately attempting to construct a convincing facsimile of a sprawling Edwardian mansion, but couldn’t quite get it right. It understood what to place, and where — but the why it couldn’t fully grasp. 

The subtle horror made Ragatha’s insides quiver — but, all told, it could have been worse. At the very least, she was here in Pomni’s arms, where the chilling bite of the unknown was soothed by the warm glow of her touch, where the steady rhythm of Pomni’s footfalls wrapped her up in a blanket of sameness and security. 

Step, step, step. 

Ragatha snuggled Pomni’s chest, her head positioned perfectly to hear the rhythm of the young woman’s heartbeat. It was racing. Pomni must have been so tired, so exhausted, so ready to collapse in a heap and call it quits. But instead, she persisted, pushing her body and mind to the absolute limit. All for Ragatha’s sake. 

The plain little ragdoll closed her eyes. She pulled deep, contented breaths from her core, pressing her forehead firmly against the jester’s chest. If only this adventure could go on forever. If only she and Pomni could remain just like this — a helpless princess and her dashing savior — until the day they finally escaped into the outside world, hand-in-hand.

Step, step, step.

Pomni passed by another quintet of windows. Ragatha shivered as a chilly draft snuck through a crack in the glass pane. Its whistling entrance, performing in duet with the tittering of bats, chipped the unbroken facade of silence. 

“Hey. Pomni…?” 

The jester kept on moving, but her stride was a touch closer to walking than it had been before. Her gaze flicked towards her chest — or rather, the big bundle of red yarn resting snugly against it. “Yeah? What’s up?” 

“I’ve just been thinking,” Ragatha’s finger teased little circles around Pomni’s back, “what are we going to get up to when this is all over?”

Pomni hesitated. “When we escape the Circus?”

“When this adventure is over.”

“Oh. W-Well, uh…” Pomni cleared her throat, “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Well, I happen to have a few ideas up my sleeve…” Ragatha smirked. It was difficult not to swoon, or snicker, or let out one of those satisfied sighs that relieved the pressure built up by a love-swollen heart. “Since we’re so…close now, why don’t I show you around my bedroom? We could have a sleepover, just you and me. Does that sound fun?”

“Um…!” Pomni’s whole body turned five degrees warmer. “S-Sure! Uh. Yeah! Okay! That could be, uh, f-f-fun…”

“You have those big letter blocks in your room, don’t you?”

“Uh. Yes…?”

“Do you use them for anything?”

“Huh? Well, no. Not really.” 

“Are they heavy?”

“Pretty heavy,” Pomni replied, squinting. She glanced down, meeting Ragatha’s flirtatious gaze, “Why are you asking me this?”

“Well, I was just thinking. Maybe you could lend me some?”

“For what?”

“Well, we’re going to need something to block the door, won’t we?”

Pomni squeaked, pale face flushing red. “Huh!? U-Um…!”

“In fact…” Ragatha grabbed Pomni’s tunic and leaned in closer. A distinct hunger roared within her, begging to be sated. “I never got to finish my lesson, did I? What if you got in a little more practice before that?”

“More…practice?”

“Mhm…”

“A-Are you serious…?”

Ragatha practically purred. “Deadly.” 

“Well, uh…” Pomni subtly leaned away, “...now doesn’t really seem like a good time, does it? We’re going to fail the mission if we don’t keep moving — and besides, we’ve got to keep our guard up for whatever it is that’s hiding in this hallway. Remember what that weird ghost lady told us?

“Hmm?” Ragatha pouted. “Oh, come on. Just one quick kiss?”

Pomni sighed. “No, Ragatha.”

Ragatha’s steady breathing lagged; the unflinching seriousness of Pomni’s tone slammed into her like a runaway train. Her plush heart shriveled, and her stitched-on eyebrows crinkled in confusion. Uh-oh. Oh, god. She didn’t mean to…!

“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart,” Ragatha cocked her head, “I thought we were just playing around — I didn’t mean to pressure you. We’re not moving too fast, are we?”  

Pomni’s steady stride slowed to a halt. Her eyes brooded pensively at the floor, watching the hard sole of her boot rap softly against the carpet below. 

“No. It’s…fine,” Pomni eventually replied, “We can kiss if you want.”

“If I want to!? Do you want to?”

“I…” Pomni swallowed. “...Well, duh! You’re literally the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. What kind of idiot wouldn’t want to kiss you?”

“Pomni.” Ragatha deadpanned. The flattery tactic wasn’t going to work. “Be honest.”

“I am being honest!”

“Please. I can tell something’s bothering you—”

Out of nowhere, Pomni shoved her lips against Ragatha’s, decisively shutting the dolly up. She tore away the very next moment.

“There’s your kiss. Happy?” Pomni grit her teeth, glaring down the hallway. She sulked into the dark depths with aplomb.

“Pomni! What’s gotten into you?!”

“What’s gotten into me? We have less than an hour before this whole adventure falls apart with us stuck inside it! That’s what’s gotten into me!”  

Ragatha narrowed her eyes. She was the farthest thing from naive — not when it came to matters of the heart. Pomni had started acting noticeably off ever since they’d shared their first kiss, and Ragatha wasn’t going to just stand by without at least trying to get to the bottom of it, time limits be damned. 

“Pomni,” said Ragatha, “put me down.”

“What? You’re not serious, are you?!”

“We’re not in high school, Pomni — something’s going on, and we’re going to talk about it. Like adults.”

Pomni grumbled under her breath. Rolling her eyes, she started toward one of the many overzealous couches placed periodically along the walls — the tacky type with legs carved into the shape of animal paws. 

Gently, Pomni did as Ragatha asked, setting the ragdoll down on the silky cushions. Despite her less-than-peachy mood, she still took extra care to make sure Ragatha’s weight was well-centered, and that her shoulders were propped up nicely against the backrest — lest Ragatha end up sliding off and flopping helplessly to the ground. 

“That’s perfect, Sweetheart. Thank you.” Ragatha shifted around, settling into her seat. She looked Pomni in the eyes and patted the empty spot beside her. 

Pomni plopped down with a huff. Like a troublemaking kid stuck in the principal’s office, she crossed her arms tightly, flashing her boots a dirty look. 

“Now, if it’s alright with you…” Ragatha exhaled, hands politely nestled in the lap of her royal dress, “Tell me what’s bothering you. I’m here to listen.”

Pomni’s tightly-wound posture compressed even further. “I just…” she squirmed, making an indecisive sound that drifted back and forth between a guttural groan and a high-pitched whine. “You and me…!”

She shook her head. She flexed her soles against the carpet. She squeezed the century-old, crumbling stuffing out of the century-old, crumbling couch cushions, until…

“I just don’t get it!” Pomni snapped, “Why would someone like you want anything to do with someone like me?”

Ragatha sat up. “H-Huh!?” 

Pomni’s wilting eyes wandered about Ragatha’s body, settling on the freshest injury slashed across the ragdoll’s torso. “You’ve shown me so much kindness. You’ve protected me, you’ve made me smile, you’ve been a friend when I needed one,” Pomni sighed. Her glowering gaze retreated to the floor.  “Meanwhile, I can’t even keep a simple promise to keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe? What—” Ragatha swatted her hand over the winding tear, “—you’re talking about this? Oh, Pomni! So I tore myself up a little! It isn’t—”

“Isn’t my fault? Give me a break — I’m not stupid!” Pomni fanned her fingers across her chest, “You hurting yourself would never have happened if I hadn’t flipped my lid earlier! I don’t get it, Ragatha — why are you so afraid to stand up for yourself?”

“Pomni!” 

“Why would you forgive me after everything I’ve put you through? Why would you kiss me?” Pomni bared her teeth, eyes jumping from bad, to worse, to awful as she regarded the clumps of cotton bulging out of the broken ragdoll. “How do you not despise me?”

Stunned into silence, Ragatha placed her hand over her throat. She could feel it tightening, strangling her from the inside. 

All was quiet. 

For the longest time, Pomni just sat there, rocking back and forth, stewing in the dreadful silence. And when she finally did open her mouth to reply, she flinched as if the reedy sound of her own voice had caught her off-guard:

“Ragatha…?” she croaked, “Do you remember yesterday? When we stopped in that clearing, and that horrible tree monster attacked us?”

Ragatha’s face hardened. She nodded.

“When that…thing had me in its clutches, you didn’t run away. You fought for me. And you saved me.”

Ragatha stared at the shivering woman seated beside her. Now, it was her turn to bask in uncomfortable silence, racking her brain to think of something, anything she could possibly say. The uncertain silence stretched father, farther, farther, until she just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because. All this time,” Pomni wilted. “I’ve been wondering. Wondering why.”

“...Why I saved you?”

Pomni just barely eked out a nod. 

“I mean…do I really need a reason?” Ragatha couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “You didn’t expect me to just leave you behind, did you?”

White-hot shame simmered behind Pomni’s eyes. Head in her hands, she slumped closer to the floor, trembling voice peaking just above a whisper: “Did you expect me to…?” 

Ragatha snapped to attention, hand flattened against her chest. Pins and needles numbed the tips of her fingers.

So. This was it. 

Finally, they were talking about it.

Ragatha bastioned herself. She took a deep breath, and—

“You don’t have to make excuses for me,” Pomni croaked. She held her musketeer cap over her face, crumpling the wide brim beneath her fingers. “What I did to you…” her pupils retreated, “...it was awful. Just awful.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Ragatha shook her head. “For all of that crazy stuff to happen on your first day? Before you’d even had time to adjust? You were in shock. You were terrified.  It wouldn’t be fair to judge your actions based on—”

“How did you convince yourself that your feelings don’t matter?”

Ragatha’s face fell flat. “...Pardon?”

“I know you’re just trying to be kind. Because that’s the type of person you are,” Pomni said. “But…you need to stop.”

“St-Stop?”

“I hurt you. How do you expect to heal if all we do is dance around it?”

“I…” Ragatha’s mouth slowly shut. She felt utterly transparent — and in the span of a single second, the mental house of cards that she had so carefully constructed for years came crashing down in a big, fluttering heap. 

‘How did you convince yourself that your feelings don’t matter?’ Pomni’s blunt words ricocheted off the walls of her mind. ‘How do you expect to heal if all we do is dance around it?‘

Ragatha wilted. She didn’t know the answer.

She was so accustomed to being the first one to offer a supportive ear, the first one to provide a firm shoulder to cry on, that her own feelings had long ago been exiled to a dusty, long-forgotten corner of her mind. 

Like everyone else, she wanted nothing more than to escape the digital insanity ward she found herself trapped in — but she wasn’t naive enough to believe that desire was anything more than a pipe dream. For now, and maybe forever, her weird little found family of co-prisoners was all she had. And she knew it.

So she had to keep the peace. She had to be the neutral voice of reason, the rock solid foundation that kept everyone bound together — and that balancing act alone was taxing enough. Why in the world would she want to foil that precarious peace with her own petty problems?

But it was…fine. It was. Ragatha had always been good at regulating her own emotions. All she had to do was bury any bothersome thoughts beneath a heap of questionable excuses, paper-thin rationales, and half-baked half-truths until the pesky voices didn’t pester her so much anymore. And just look at her! She was fine. 

Totally fine. No problems here. Nope. 

Shakily, Ragatha swallowed. Her head slumped. Who was she kidding, lying to herself like this…? Why was it so difficult to just be honest about the burden she carried — the pain, the loneliness, the emotional isolation that weighed her down further each day? And why, after all these years, was she just now questioning all of this?

Her heart beat just a little bit faster. Her breathing picked up to match. Her eyes brimmed with tears as, out of nowhere, the obvious answer whisked through her mind:

No one had ever cared to ask. No one besides Pomni.

A cozy sense of safety embraced Ragatha’s heart. She didn’t care to turn away, or hide her face beneath her hands, or wipe away her rolling tears. It was okay to cry here. 

Her wandering, watery eyes heeded the disheveled nest of hat hair that adorned Pomni’s head. They admired the unrelenting dorkiness of the jester’s forced-on musketeer costume. They beheld, as if in a trance, a lovely pair of pinwheels bursting with one-thousand-and-one emotions at once. 

She smiled, warmly and earnestly. So this was what it felt like. To be cared for. 

“Okay then,” Ragatha spoke softly, forcing her mouth to take the shape of the words. She couldn’t help but squirm, tearing open the door on feelings that she’d already worked so hard to lock away. “I’m going to be very frank with you — because I trust you. And I know you trust me.”

Pomni cowered behind her crinkled cap, fingers carving crude lines across the rawhide brim. Her pupils retreated meekly toward the floor. 

Ragatha bit her lip. “Back on your first day, when you left me alone with Kaufmo? Yeah. That hurt. I was confused, and scared, and angry, and…” Ragatha swallowed, “...a-and…”

“And what…?

“And I came closer to losing myself than I ever had before.”

Pomni’s cap wrinkled beneath the jester’s tightened grip. “Wh-what!? You mean…?”

Every jumbled line of code that comprised Ragatha’s digital body shrieked at her to stop, to be a good girl, to shut her big mouth and stop causing drama. Nevertheless, she made her story heard. “I’m not that strong, Pomni,” she said, “I’m just good at hiding my weakness. Probably too good, to be honest…”

“But…but that doesn’t make sense! When I came back to you, your body was all glitchy and flickery — but you weren’t abstracting!”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it. All of us have vastly different digital forms, — so, naturally, they abstract in vastly different ways, too. Whenever I feel myself slipping…” Another tear raced down Ragatha’s face at the thought. She crossed her bulky, dollish hands over her chest, “...it starts on the inside.”

Pomni lowered her cap to her chin, exposing her drooping face. “In your heart?”

Glancing away, Ragatha nodded. She stroked the back of her hand in a self-soothing gesture. “I could feel the threads fraying as soon as we opened Kaufmo’s door. The seams of my heart began to tear open, and this awful coldness spread throughout my body.”

“And…” Pomni hesitated, “...then I left you. All alone. And y-you almost…”

“Yeah. But, you know…” Ragatha met Pomni’s crinkled, shame-stricken gaze, and a smile — a real, genuine smile — put an end to her tears. “...I’m still here. Do you know why?”

“Well, I…” Pomni glanced here and there. Her hat sank further down to cover her chest. “Um…”

“You said it yourself, Sunshine,” Ragatha’s smile made itself comfortable, stretching wider and shining brighter. “You came back.”

 Pomni’s eyes were wide, “I...what?”

“You came back for me, Pomni.” Ragatha pressed her hands against her mouth; her grin grew and grew until it almost looked like she was laughing. “When I heard you plodding down the hall, worried sick, calling after me with that nasally little voice of yours—

“Nasally!?”

“Gosh, you sounded worried sick…” Ragatha giggled, taking Pomni’s hands into hers. “Pomni, just in the handful of days I’ve known you, you’ve proven yourself to be one of the most caring, most courageous, most selfless people I’ve ever met,” Ragatha said. Her thumb glided lovingly against the back of Pomni’s hand, “One mistake doesn’t change that.”

Pomni wasn’t looking back. Her chin quivered slightly, and her hands wriggled stubbornly in Ragatha’s grip.

“Didn’t anybody tell you what happened after that? After I went to find Caine?” Pomni sniffed. “I found a door. I tried to leave. I wasn’t thinking about anyone else except myself, and—” 

“And I forgive you.” Ragatha said. She felt the jester’s shuddering grip tighten around her hands. 

“I’m trying to forgive myself, too.” Pomni glowered at the winding constellations of slices, holes, and cuts wrapped all around Ragatha’s body. She studied their shape closely, her face warping further with every newly-discovered fray. “I’m trying as hard as I can to make up for the way I treated you, but no matter how hard I try, you keep getting hurt. And I just…” she sighed. “...I wish I could go back in time. I wish I could have saved you.”

Ragatha sighed, looking over Pomni’s hands. The poor girl was being so hard on herself — it hurt just to listen to.

Letting go, Ragatha reached into her pocket and produced a round, palm sized box. The transparent lid revealed its contents: A needle, several spools of thread, and a worn-out, heart-shaped pincushion. 

“I…what…?” Pomni blanched. She fastened her cap back on her head. “What is this…?”

Ragatha pressed the container into Pomni’s hands. “You tell me,” she said.

“A…sewing kit?” Pomni held the box up to her ear and gave it a light shake. The contents rattled around inside. “Wait a minute — you just had this on you the whole time?!”

“Uh, well…” Ragatha forced out an awkward laugh, “...kind of?”

“So I did all that work for nothing?!”

“Trust me. It wasn’t for nothing.” Ragatha winked. It was cruel — all she wanted to do was reach over and smother Pomni in a great big hug, but she knew that doing so would only strain her stitches. Confined to her half of the couch, Ragatha gazed pleadingly into Pomni’s eyes, tugging the woman’s arms toward herself with a look that said ‘please, come closer.’

In no time at all, Pomni acquiesced, letting herself be swept into Ragatha’s embrace. Ragatha draped her arms over Pomni’s rigid backside, and rested her forehead against hers. 

“Pomni,” she said, “if you really want to give this a shot, you have to know that one of us is going to screw something up sooner or later. We’re only human, after all, and if there’s one thing every human is good at, it’s #%@$ing up.”

Pomni flinched at the rare curse word out of Ragatha’s mouth — and, for the slightest moment, she even cracked a wary smile. “Yeah,” she snickered, rolling her forehead against the dolly’s. “that’s true…”

Ragatha smiled brighter. “But I know we’ll be okay. We’ll learn from our mistakes, and come out stronger on the other side. Because I love you, and if there’s one thing adventuring with you has taught me…” Ragatha closed Pomni’s fingers around the sewing kit, “...it’s that no matter what happens, we’ll always be there to put each other back together again.”

The kit’s plastic casing whined in Pomni’s ever-tightening grip. Pomni sat in stunned silence — but her tepid breath pounded against Ragatha’s neck just as before. Butterflies swooped and swirled in Ragatha’s stomach as Pomni’s hand combed through the dolly’s cherry-red curls — pinching, petting, rolling frayed twists between her fingers. 

“Ragatha…?”

“Hm?”

Pomni swallowed. “D-Did you just say…” Pomni’s fingers traced a jagged line across the stitched surface of Ragatha's cheek, “...you love me…?”

Ragatha shrugged, casual as could be, “I did, didn’t I?”

A big, stupid smile brightened Pomni’s face. “I—” she stammered, resting her weary head upon the ragdoll’s soft shoulder. “I—” she stuttered still, her weak, wavering voice crumbling to pieces. “I love you, too...”

Ragatha’s heart sang with pure joy. 

She let out a mirthful laugh, squeezing her darling as hard as she could. Pomni squeezed back, and all at once, a wonderful feeling of belonging — of finally returning home after having been away for so long — warmed the ragdoll from her very core.  

“My beautiful little ray of sunshine…” Ragatha spoke through a shuddering smile, running her hands through Pomni’s chestnut hair, breathing in her breathtaking essence. “...I love you with all of my—”

Regrettably — or perhaps not, depending on who you asked — there wasn’t much room for that kind of sentiment between the lines of the Circus’s cold, uncompromising code. Whether or not its players were soulmates, shared the same star sign, or called each other cute little pet names hardly mattered. This heart-pounding adventure was falling apart, and fast. 

Another savage quake shook the mansion’s decrepit foundation. Bricks, metal fittings, and chunks of rotten wood fell like rain. Noxious plumes of who-knows-what poured down from the ceiling. 

Ragatha and Pomni yelped in tandem. And it only got worse from there. 

Instinctively, Ragatha pointed her triangular nose toward the rumbling ceiling — but she did so just in time for a sizeable chunk of falling drywall to clonk her directly on the snout. She cried out, suddenly and sharply, from the dizzying pain. 

The abrupt noise caused Pomni, who still clung to Ragatha, to flinch and lose her balance. She tumbled off the sofa and onto the dirty floor, dragging a wincing Ragatha down with her. They landed in a heap �� Ragatha on top, and Pomni squished below. 

All around, rattling chandeliers swung to and fro like crystal pendulums. Antique bookshelves teetered and tottered, vomiting their dusty contents onto the floor. A cavernous fissure split the ceiling with a bloodcurdling crack, spraying forth needles of splintered wood like lethal confetti. 

“R-R-Ragatha!” Pomni ground her teeth, hugging her girlfriend tightly. The back of her head paddled violently against the vibrating floor. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” she cringed in pain…

…but then, just as suddenly as it had started, the rumbling ceased. 

Pomni groaned, opening her eyes again. She blinked in the newfound peace, gawking at the woman laying precariously on top of her. Assorted debris coated the floor around the pair like a blanket of dirtied snow. 

“Oh my gosh! A-Are you—” Pomni hacked up a cloud of grimy dust, “— are you okay?”

“Aww. Look at you, all concerned for little old me,” Ragatha pecked Pomni’s cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m made of cotton. I’ve walked away from way nastier falls than that.” 

“Oh! Yeah. Right,” Pomni blushed. “I keep forgetting we aren’t exactly human anymore...”

“You’re cute.” Ragatha said with a freehearted giggle. She admired her partner’s dorky little hat, the brim of which was entirely covered in grimy mansion-dust. To be fair, though, her own hair likely didn’t fare any better — a fact which Pomni would confirm a moment later:

“Uh…by the way,” Pomni pointed to the left side of her head. “You’ve got a little something here.” 

“Oh, really? A little something?”

“Yeah. And also…” Pomni’s finger jumped around her head, “...here. And here, and here…”

 “Gosh, that’s an awful lot of ‘little somethings’...” Ragatha giggled. “To tell you the truth, you’ve also got something here,” she pointed to one side of her head, “and here. And…”

Ragatha’s voice trailed off. Deliberately, she lowered her head, eyes narrowing. 

The bank of dust atop Pomni’s musketeer cap was…moving. Spinning. All on its own.  Around and around, the miniscule particles ran an endless circuit around the cured leather brim, slowly drifting upward with each completed lap. Before long, the spinning particles had formed an upside-down cone shape — a tiny tornado of dust. Atop Pomni’s head. 

What in the world…? 

Ragatha could only stare, her mouth ajar. She watched through squinting eyes as the vortex grew tighter and taller, bending with purpose the way a blooming flower reached for the sun. She knew she ought to be used to this sort of nonsense by now, but miraculously, the deranged parade of oddities she encountered every day still managed to confound her, even after all these years. At least Jax wasn’t around to chide her for the stupid look on her face. 

“Uh, hellooo? Are you even listening!?” Pomni waved her hand in front of Ragatha’s face, derailing the redhead’s racing train of thought. “What are you staring at?”

Snapped back into the real world — or, at least, a convincing facsimile thereof — Ragatha’s gaze settled on Pomni. Words failed her, and so, she simply pointed.  

With a bewildered blink, Pomni’s eyes followed the slight downward curve of Ragatha’s finger. The jester’s shuddering gaze inched down the corridor, following the length of the swirling vortex until, at last, the anomaly disappeared into the distant darkness. 

Pomni balked, rubbing her eyes. “The #@$% is that…?”

And it only got weirder from there. 

A second whirlwind — sourced from a pile of debris on a nearby bookshelf — formed in the same way. It stretched down the corridor, fading into the pitch black just like its predecessor. A third, made from the dust coating a palisade of pulverized paintings, came next. A fourth followed suit, then a fifth, a seventh, a tenth, a twentieth — until the vast network of swirling arteries was far too numerous to count. 

Though difficult to make out in the dark, the endpoint of each vortex intersected at a single, unified point. There, an amorphous, filthy cloud began to form. It swelled larger — and larger, and larger — inhaling each and every speck of filth that had accumulated in the hallway. Then, like a mound of clay molded by supernatural hands, the cloud’s shapeless form gradually began to define itself:

A snaking, trunk-like body, made up of dozens of interlocking segments. A pair of gaunt, twitching appendages flanked each of these sections, sprouting one after the next like an infestation of wriggling weeds. A final segment, sporting two nasty spikes, capped off the end. A set of peering eyes, gnashing pincers, and twitching antennae distinguished the head. 

Ragatha whimpered, shrinking away from her worst nightmares made manifest.

It was a centipede. Filth and disease incarnate. A grotesque, fetid creature from hell, standing one foot taller than her and extending longer than her eyes could even perceive. 

The dolly’s patchwork heart seized within her chest. Jittering, black spots infested her blurring vision, dancing without a care as the narrow walls of the haunted corridor closed in. 

The hall was spotless now; every last speck of dust and debris had been funneled into the beast’s frightening form. And so, with its formation complete, the creature came to life.

“P-Pomni…!” Ragatha gasped, roughly clutching her chest. Something had snapped. Something inside of her. No. No, no, no, no, no. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. 

The centipede turned. Snap. 

The centipede cocked its head. Snap. 

The centipede creeped closer, and closer, and closer still, its long, slender legs chattering loudly against the floor. Snap. Snap. Snap.

“Pomni! P-Please…!”

The fragile seams of Ragatha’s heart popped one-by one, stretched out to their absolute limit. A cold, barren sensation slithered out of the organ with every stuttering pump, numbing all that dared to touch its toxic essence.

///

My Ko-fi - Tips are very much appreciated! :)

[First Chapter] [Next Chapter - Coming soon!]

*dies of exhaustion on top of keyboard*

[imitationgame77]

Special Human, Special Bot

To say that Murderbot has difficulties in social situations is an understatement. In ASR, it required persuasion from Dr. Mensah to keep its helmet off and show its face. Many books later, it is still using cameras and drones to look at people, except when it needs to make a point by making a deliberate eye contact.

MB finds it difficult to accept that people around it values it for who it is, rather than for its functions. And it thinks its functions are not entirely good, either. When one cannot accept oneself as someone worthy of love, it is difficult to love others, and admitting that it cares about anyone is out of question.

So MB does not go around showing positive regards to people or declaring/accepting friendships. It only shows that it cares about someone by doing its job - protection.

Most people around MB are quite mature, so they don't go insecure, asking it "do you like me?". Gurathin can even take "I don't like you" in his stride.

Amena, who is adolescent after all, was insecure at first, so she says "it doesn't even like me", "you didn't care about me", indicating that she wanted reassurances. Which MB does not give directly. But she kind of gets it, as she is a very perceptive daughter of Mensah.

ART seemed confident enough in AC, but later shows some insecurity in NE. Not surprising, considering all it saw after reboot was MB being very angry, and flatly denying they were frinds. That leads to the scene where MB walks in on Amena talking privately with ART where she bursts out, "ART should know how you really feel about it!"

So, it is VERY special when MB openly admits that it likes anyone. And it only does so about two special friends. Dr. Mensah, its favourite human, and ART.

MB says to Dr. Mensah in the flashback in NE, “I just really like you. Not in a weird way.” to which she replies, "I really like you, too". Very heart-warming scene.

About ART, MB again says to Dr. Mensah, “Preservation was the first place I was a part of and I don’t want to not be a part of it. But I like being with ART. I want to keep being with it.”

MB finds Mensah as the easiest person to talk to. She understands MB, and makes it comfortable.

MB seems to find it more difficult to talk about how it feels about ART, a very important friend, but it realises that perhaps it is important to let it know. So, knowing that ART is listening, it tells it indirectly by telling Dr. Mensah. ART, unlike in the bathroom scene, does not show any response by dimming the light or anything like that. But we can still tell that it was reassured by that confession, by the way that it shows a lot more confidence in interactions with MB after that.

I really love these scenes. MB admitting that it likes Dr. Mensah and ART. They deserve to know!

[evillemons]

NAMJOON’S IDEAL TYPE (RM pt. 1)

~ a manifestation of his ideal girlfriend. Continuation into part 2 and part 3. Masterlist here.

Key words: kind, warm, intelligent, independent, extroverted, chic, passionate, career-oriented.

Her personality:

• Unlike Jungkook and Yoongi who I would see being more open minded when it comes to their relationships, Namjoon would be quite specific with whom he chooses to date.

• A lot of depictions of Namjoon’s girlfriend type her as cold and intimidating, but I mostly disagree. He once said his celebrity crush is Blake Lively, so I see him drawn to someone warm, kindhearted, and friendly, but also self-assured and practical.

• MBTI: ESFJ or ENFJ. A natural leader who is empathetic and compassionate.

• She would be incredibly intelligent, both from an academic and philosophical standpoint. Highly educated with a Master’s or Doctorate degree (he has repeatedly stated that a “sexy mind” is important to him).

• Well-spoken and eloquent. Independent and confident as hell.

• She could have a variety of careers; it could be prestigious such as a doctor or lawyer, but she could also do something more “subtly” influential like health policy or international affairs (or maybe even a highly successful book editor?). I could also see him with another celebrity musician/actor.

• Career-oriented, ambitious, and a hard worker. She would hold a lot of value in her job and have a deep passion for it.

• Naturally kind and humble; qualities they share due to experiences of hardships.

• While not nearly as much as him, she would make a decent amount of money. This would make her independent and self-sufficient.

• She would be quite skilled at whatever she does, including her hobbies and work, due to her high work ethic.

• While kind and good with people, she would not be shy or a pushover. She wouldn’t hesitate to call people out on their bad behavior or stand up for what she believes in.

• Not unlike Namjoon, she wouldn’t want to play games in a relationship. She would be direct and have an all-or-nothing mentality.

• Her hobbies might include creative outlets such as fashion, painting, baking, or visiting museums. I think Namjoon would really enjoy someone who has an appreciation for art in some form.

• She might come off as highly flirtatious due to her friendly nature, but would not get satisfaction out of superficial relationships, nor would she like shallow people.

• High emotional intelligence.

• She might be a little impatient, which is well balanced by Namjoon’s calmness and patience.

• Values respect, equality, and kindness (aka gentleman King Kim Namjoon).

• She wouldn’t be intimidated by his fame. She would see him fully as Kim Namjoon the human rather than a celebrity.

Her looks and sexuality:

• While I don’t see Namjoon as superficial, he would undoubtedly be attracted to someone feminine and “pretty”.

• Very likely to be American (but any Race/Ethnicity). While this is obviously not exclusive, he seems to be very drawn to the American career-woman type. It would be nice if she also spoke Korean, but his English fluency would make it easy for them to communicate regardless.

• She would always be well put together and have a strong understanding of fashion.

• Classic, chic style. She could prefer to wear neutrals and lots of black, but I could also see her loving pops of color and gemstone jewelry.

• Red lipstick. Probably smells nice.

• She might wear glasses at home or when she is working.

• Effortlessly sexy. We all know he is a sucker for a sexy woman.

• Somewhat modest, though. She is thin, but naturally sexy due to slight curves and flirtatious nature.

• I do see him preferring someone very well-kempt. She might do pilates or yoga and be subtly toned. She would also have excellent hygiene.

• Long ass legs to match his own. Average to tall height without surpassing him (5’5-5’9 or 165-175 cm). She would love to wear heels nonetheless.

• She might be the same age as him or older; he would unlikely date someone too much younger unless they are as mature and wise as he is. I think he would find dating someone older than him to be super hot.

• She would either be straight or bisexual with a preference for men (I would like to think he would have no issue with this generally, although he might oversexualize it at first).

• Probably gets hit on a lot a quite attractive woman. Although friendly, she would not indulge men she is not interested in.

• Might have a few fine line tattoos on her arms or back that are unique and personal.

• Maybe some extra ear piercings too, but nothing extreme or out of the ordinary.

• She is an overall attractive, well-put together woman. Her confidence and intelligence may seem intimidating, but her warm and friendly aura acts as a people magnet.

• HOWEVER, Joonie is such a kind and open-minded soul that if he met someone he liked and was compatible with, I think all demographics, looks, etc. would be out the window.

• While he comes off as a little woman-crazy, at the end of the day he just wants a deep and meaningful connection with someone.

[animusicnerd]

The Language of Flowers

☾ Genre: Fluff

☾ Warnings: N/A

☾ Pairing(s): Malleus Draconia x GN! Reader

☾ Notes: Entry for the event "new beginnings from @briarvalleyarchives. I think Diasomnia fans deserve a nice fluffy treat for all that's happening.

Malleus believed that humans were selfish, greedy, and annoying cowards. Throughout his long life, the Fae Prince has seen humans steal from themselves and others. Bring down their own kingdoms and destroy his people’s lands. He truly believed that most, if not all, humans were the most despicable things in the world. But even so, he could not deny that they were interesting.  

Even though they touch everything that they destroy, humans were able to rebuild as well. He has seen the gardens they have built. The families they created. The art that they made. He has seen them thrive no matter the circumstances they faced. Humans were abhorrent creatures, yes, but the select few were admirable beings.  

Malleus rarely took any time to research them. Yes, some humans lived in Briar Valley, but most kept to themselves and the families that they surrounded themselves in. They were rarely in the castle and although he had run into a few of them in the woods, Malleus never stayed any longer than he needed to. So, when he found himself falling for the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm—a magicless human, at that—he was not quite sure what to do. He was not well versed in human courting rituals and any advice he took from other humans did not seem good enough. The Prefect had captured his heart without him knowing, but as they were human, he was not sure where to go about courting them.  

How does one capture a human’s cruel heart? 

That was the first question Malleus had asked Lilia. He was the one to suggest that they attend Night Raven College so that the Fae Prince may expand his knowledge on humans and other species around Twisted Wonderland. He should be able to provide Malleus with the means of courting a human.  

“How about flowers?” his caretaker suggested.  

The pair sat in one of the black velvet couches in Diasomnia’s lounge. Green light emanated from the candles sitting on the brass candle holders that dotted the dorm, providing enough light to make up for the lack of windows inside. Lilia cradled a glass of tomato juice in his hands, sitting on the left end of the couch as Malleus held a mug of black coffee, sitting on the right end. The other residents in their dorm were fast asleep, leaving the two faeries to themselves and their conversation.

“That suggestion was given to me too many times to count,” Malleus stated. It was a repetitive proposition that was given to him by both Vil, Riddle, Cater and any other humans that he came across. He did not quite understand why giving them such a simple thing as a bouquet would make the Prefect happy. Flowers would not last as long as his love for them, but gold and gems would. 

Alas, the last time he tried to give the Prefect a wonderful emerald necklace, they rejected his offer stating that they could not possibly take something so valuable. “I still don’t get why the Prefect won’t accept the gems and gold that I have given to them.” He sighed, feeling an ache in his chest as he remembered his latest gift being pushed back into his hands.  

“Young Master, you must remember that the Prefect is a normal human,” Lilia chided, taking a sip from his cup. “Gems and gold are not the standard for them, not to mention it’s more inline with families like the Al-Asims.” 

“If I can’t give gems, nor gold, then what shall I give them?” It was how dragon fae courted each other. Showering each other with the shiniest gifts that they could afford was the way that Malleus was taught to court others; although, it was assumed that he would take a fae lover, not a human. “And I do have the intent of marrying them!” 

Malleus watched as Lilia sighed before placing down his tomato juice and snapped his fingers. A book appeared in his hands titled: A Guide to Floriography. Sitting up from his seat, Malleus leaned in closer as his caretaker flipped through the yellowed pages before stopping and meeting Malleus’s gaze. “I am well aware of your feelings towards the Prefect and flowers are a sure-fire way for you to properly confess your infatuation with them. It would help bring your relationship to the next level, so to speak.” 

The prince looked at the green book in Lilia’s hands. Floriography was something that he was not interested in, and although he may know the meaning of a select few flowers, it was not important in his eyes. But if something as simple as a bouquet would be able to reach the Prefect’s heart, then he would send them one.

“Very well, I’ll play along.”

Lilia clapped his hands together and with a grin states, “Splendid! Let us begin.”

It was late at night when you heard the doorbell of Ramshackle ring throughout its halls. Grim was already sound asleep in your bed, snoring and muttering under his breath. The ghosts had already retired for the night as well. You were the only one awake at that hour and knowing the headmage, he must have sent something for you to take care of. Again.  

With a heavy heart in their chest, you walked towards the front door. Upon opening it, a beautiful bouquet set in a green vase was the only thing left on the porch. Confused, you looked around the area, seeing nothing but darkness and the flicker of lights from the college. You didn’t know what this was for, but you did have an inkling of who might have given it. After all, Malleus wasn’t known as one of the greatest wizards for nothing. It wouldn’t be surprising for him to poof! into existence in front of your doorstep, drop off the flowers, and then disappear again. 

Picking up the vase, you noticed the thorny vines and flowers painted around the vase glinting in the moonlight. A yellow card caught your attention. A gust of cold wind hit you, and you quickly went inside to avoid the cold. Once the door was shut, you looked back at the card tied to one of the stems of the flowers and read it:

My dear beloved, 

For the last few weeks, I have been attempting to court you. I was not sure how humans started their courting rituals, so I started courting you in the way that I might court a faerie. I apologize for that as it seems that my intentions were not clear for my affections for you. 

I shall make them clear right now. 

My dear, since the night that we have met, I have been enraptured by you and your personality. I cannot say all that I feel through words alone, so I will let the flowers help me—as silly as that sounds. I will start with the ones on the vase. 

Briar Rose – I Am Wounded 

Initially, I was offended that you had rejected my gifts. Most people from my kingdom would be honored for such riches, but I forget that you are human and not of this world. So, while I am no longer wounded, I still feel the sting of rejection whenever I remember the returned gifts given back to me. Now, onto the bouquet.  

Carnations – Fascination  

The night that we had met, I admit that I was running from my guards. I had wanted to look at the beautiful gargoyles that sat atop the ledges of Ramshackle dorm and one such guard claimed that it was far too late for such a thing. I disagreed and went anyway. When you emerged from your dorm to see me, I was surprised that you had not known me, so I allowed you to give me a name. It took quite a while for you to find out my identity, but I still like the fact that you call me “Tsunotaro.” An interesting name and one that I cherish. 

Red Chrysanthemums and Forget-Me-Nots – I Love You and True Love 

I have loved throughout the years, but none as strong as my affections for you. Love is not something that is readily available for the fae, yet humans seem to have an affinity for it along with destruction. It’s funny. We are not able to lie so you would think that we would wear our hearts on our sleeves, but that is the farthest thing from the truth. We keep our hearts to ourselves, as close as we can, so for me to lay it bare before you and allow you to take it is something of great significance towards me, and I hope for you. 

White Heather and Orange Blossoms – Protection and Innocence  

You know nothing of this world, that much is certain, my dear. You have been moved from your home world to mine and knowing all the dangers that this world possesses, I vow to keep you safe. Innocence is something that is not common in this world, but naivety is. You have both and as amusing as it is, I know that if you were to leave these grounds and get hurt, I would never forgive myself for not being there with you. However, orange blossoms also represent eternal love; the love that I have for you. So even when you pass, know that I have loved you and will continue to love you until the day I inevitably pass as well.  

Jonquil – Desire For Affection 

If you are still reading this letter, I am sure by now that I have gotten my feelings across to you. Now all I yearn for is your affection in return. I wish to see you every morning with a smile on your face. I wish to have your arms around me, holding me gently. I wish to be with you, and I hope that you would allow me to be by your side. If you return my affections, please meet me tomorrow night outside of your dorm and give me your answer. 

Yours,

Malleus Draconia

[etheries1015]

hi so I’m curious if I can request the pomfiore trio with a Yuu who loves scars, has like a little under 50, and whenever Yuu gets hurt their super ecstatic is it scars and loves to have people guess how they got all of them. And it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do this it is up to you.

This is very interesting! Not a lot of people like their scars. It for sure took me some time personally to come to terms with the one I have smack dab on my forehead :[ So it's nice to see someone accept them and even find them fascinating! Thank you for the request <3

Pomefiore reacting to MC who has a fascination with scars

TW: Scars! Not self-inflicted in this fic. However, If you struggle with self-harm or know a loved one who does, please reach out to someone you care for and consider receiving assistance through your struggles. You are loved, you matter, and your body does a lot for you, please take care of it! xoxo

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader, more like short little headcannons than anything else of their general thoughts and feelings behind it!

Vil

The first time he saw the different scars on your body, his soul almost left his own. How could someone have so many?! He also admired your confidence, you did not let others teasing you about them get in your way, you never covered them up with makeup, and you basically made a show off of your scars. On one particular day when the two of you sat in the lounge of his dorm, Vil gathered the courage to inquire what exactly is the significance of the scars on your body. He does find it a little disturbing, but if it isn't bothering anyone and you are fully confident in yourself, why bother? It just isn't his cup of tea. BUT he does find your point of view very nice! He starts to see scars in a new light, that includes normal bodily marks.

Epel

"And THIS one-" You spent all of the lunch period going over each and every one of your "battle scars." He was watching you intently, amused and genuinely interested in the stories behind the marks left on your body. You gave him a speech of how scars are like words on a book- there's always a story behind each and every one of them, it's what makes us human. "So cool..." He muttered. Epel probably had more interest in you after that, thinking you're so cool for your scars and how you go into things with full confidence and an adventurous soul! He looks up to you, and sometimes when you're sitting with other people, he will bring it up and you are absolutely ELATED. "Tell them that one story you told me!" You two make quite the pair!

Rook

Rook also has a bunch of scars mainly hidden from the normal person's eyes, so he can relate to you! He is always out hunting, adventuring, and getting himself into a lot of trouble often regarding his physical safety. You spend a good chunk of time sharing stories between each of the scars, and you two soon become pretty close friends because of it! He loves your enthusiasm and the way you remember each of your scars stories, and you even remember HIS stories. You're such an interesting person to Rook, and he is always up for an hour-long conversation about "battle wounds"! Your body is a canvas, and the scars you get from the walk of life are the art! Beautiful, just beautiful!

[littledollll]

Call me your angel

Lucifer Morningstar x human!reader

A/n: i love fics that just randomly come to me. In this case I was scrolling through the Lucifer tag like a starved animal (realized I’m practically the main user of it btw) and came across this post by: @masscared-star and immediately thought of some cute sort of intimate conversation scene simply because of that beautiful back-facing drawing. So this is whatever that idea was! Beautiful art btw!<3

Again special thanks to @pebbleswritessometimes and @v3nusxsky for helping me brainstorm and with the general writing process as always.

Warnings: Lucifer’s a little closed off, aludes slightly to sex (barely), non-sexual intimacy, slight insecurity, Lucifer suffering bc of their own mind.

_______________________________

“…you look so pretty..” Lucifer’s attention was captured by your barely whispered words. They were lost in their own mind, always thinking about something, there wasn’t a moment they lived without so much running through their mind. So much you would probably never know.

‘You know enough’, they said. ‘You know what you have to. You know what you really want to.’ Though it wasn’t quite true. You’d never know enough about them. There wasn’t an amount you could know about them without wanting for more.

You wanted to study each and every part of them and their complicated mind. You wanted to understand and feel whatever they did. To feel tethered to this wonderful being. But you know better. And so do they. There is a price to pay with that much knowledge, with all that power.

Maybe in far into the future, you’d finally know everything about the devil, maybe you could have a sliver of understanding for all of it. But for each thing there is time, unlimited time at that. So you had no rush. Lucifer felt comfort in knowing that.

The feeling of your warm hands wrapping around their back and just over their stomach made a slight shiver run through their body, their wings fluttering at the contact.

Your chest pressed against their back, wrapping them in a familiar and warm embrace. And in that moment you felt every running thought leave their mind as they relaxed into your embrace. Their ever-powerful wings rested against their back, against you.

“I wouldn’t know what it feels like.. I have my fair supply of never-ending thoughts. Insecurities and such. Curiosities mostly.”

Immediately, they knew you were observing them. Reading their behaviors. You already knew, or at least had an idea of what was on their mind.

“It’s not all that different from yours then.. no, not truly.” You nodded, they continued.

“Curiosity brought me here.” You disagree. But arguing that would be pointless, you have a thousand times before. “Why do you humans wish to know and have an explanation for everything? The universe is so grand and complicated... sometimes I wish I knew nothing.”

That’s a hard sentiment to combat. You say nothing, letting their statement be just that. “We think we deserve to, maybe. Is it wrong to wonder about everything that was and brought us here? We all want to know about different things, mostly anyways. I wish to know all about you.”

“You deserve to.”

Their statement leaves you confused. Didn’t they just argue we really shouldn’t? That it’s foolish for a human to want to know and understand everything. “I don’t think we d-“

“No. You deserve to. But I fear knowing everything might cause more harm than good. I do not wish for you to understand my wretched mind. But I wish to offer you understanding… does that make any sense?”

Their hands meet your own, feather light touches trace your forearms and each hand, each finger even. Like they’re just admiring you. As if they hadn’t a thousand times before. As if they hadn't a few moments ago. Their hands wrap around your own.

You nod again.

“I’m not in the dark about you… I don’t feel as such either. Maybe it’s my human brain making me want to know it all, hm?” They playfully scoffed, amused by your behavior towards this topic.

“There is vast knowledge that lives in me. Greater than any human mind could ever comprehend. Greater than even I can truly understand. It certainly feels like a burden. But you welcome it and me with open arms, why?”

That idiot. How can somebody so smart be so stupid all at the same time?

“I don’t think you need a map to understand why I love and accept you, angel.” That made them pause. You felt them suck in a breath, and their heart just- stop. Granted it was something they did for your comfort, the devil doesn’t truly need a heartbeat. So there was no concern for their health, but fear for wondering if you went too far.

“..I call you my devil so often, I-..” you wished you could see their face now, it would give you a bit of an idea on how to continue. But you’d have to guess and trust you know them enough to know how they felt in that moment.

You felt a soft squeeze in your right hand, before their thumb began to gently caress the back of it. It made you sigh in relief. “I feel as if you’re my angel, in a way that is very personal to me and no one else.”

That felt nice, hearing your soft words, understanding more or less what you meant by it. “I like it... you may continue calling me that.”

“Call me your angel.” They spoke almost shyly, even through what you would often call their ‘fancy’ way of speaking (a habit you’ve also picked up after so long with them). It was thoroughly amusing to you.

“And so I will, my angel.” They felt the words whispered against their skin, something was oddly comforting about it, Lucifer wished to relish in it forever, bathe in the feeling of the warmth of your love. But that was no far fetched dream, this was it. That warmth was you. That warmth was theirs for all eternity.

[tempting-andromeda]

Could you do some artist head canons with eagle flies and charles? (Maybe john and/or arthur too?) like they are the readers muse for most of their works?

(Sorry if this is too broad, i just love your work sm!)

Artist s/o headcanons

Characters: Eagle Flies, Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan, John Marston

Eagle flies

Likes to look at your drawings

Even if you don’t allow him to

Once he sees you small doodles of him he gets so flustered

Stares at it for hours

He’s exited you found him interesting enough to draw him

He doesn’t confront you about it but he does tell Paytah

Hes so excited to be like “yeah they draw! And they drew me!” And Paytah already knows because eagle flies has the worst tendency to just zone out and you take advantage of that

Gets embarrassed but now he’s like… conscious about zoning out

If you ask him to pose he does so without any hesitation!

Likes to watch you draw

Leans over your shoulder and watched how you know exactly where to place the shading

It’s all very interesting to him

He likes when you don’t hide some of his traits when you draw him

When you include the scars on his face, his sharp cheekbones, etc

He feels nice knowing you noticed those things about him

Charles Smith

He knows you draw and you’re quite the artist but doesn’t expect to be your muse

Likes to support your art but tries to keep himself out of it to not disturb you

Once he sees a sketch of himself he gets so flustered

He doesn’t feel so mean and large when you draw him

He feels soft

The main focus isn’t his furrowed brows or dark under eyes

It’s anything else but you still drew them

You still noticed them and didn’t pretend that he looked better without

Thinks it’s sweet when you draw him whom he’s working

He doesn’t see the beauty in it but you seem too and who is he to argue

Does ask for playful requests though

Has asked you to draw random animals doing human things just to humor you

Tries to ignore the warm feeling in his chest whenever you draw him though

He likes it but he doesn’t want to seem too egotistical

He just likes that you see him differently than he does

Arthur Morgan

He’s used to being pulled out of his comfort zone

Not once in his life as he ever thought “hmm I want someone to draw me”

But one day he catches you drawing him and his heart bursts

He knows a bit about art

He doesn’t use many nice things just a pencil and paper, not wanting to focus on anything all too much so he can get by

He knows art is difficult if you want to make it look good

So when he finds out you’re drawing him? He’s flattered

His hands feel clammy and his cheeks feel hot

So when you ask him to pose or if you can draw him he nearly rejects you but he quickly recovers and just asks that you don’t make it a habit

Truthfully he wants you to make it a habit

He wants to see how you see him

Is he mean and dumb looking or is he just a guy

It’s incredibly intimate to him and he doesn’t know why

He likes looking over then, lazily chewing on his nail as he looks at one of your paintings of his eyes

Will say that you’re painting the wrong man and that your picture is a different man than him but it’s special to him

John Marston

Can’t pose for shit

He’s stiff and awkward

But sometimes you catch him when he’s distracted

He’s whittling or polishing his gun and he looks…calm

He’s definitely someone you have to draw off guard

If he knows what you’re doing he’s making it awkward for the both of you

Will smile but it’s just teeth and his face is blank

But when you catch him off guard he looks so calm

Or when he’s sleeping

He likes looking at your drawings and looking at how you see him

He didn’t let you draw him because of his scars at first but now he liked seeing you draw them

You put in just as much detail like you refuse to forget them

It makes him feel nice

He does tease though

“Why didn’t you add my rugged muscles?”

[knightsbrig]

I’ve been having some thoughts about a Demon!Kyojuro AU, and most of the art I’ve made on it has been some pretty light-hearted akaren stuff, but I actually have a lot of complicated thoughts about Demon!Kyojuro, and I think it’s actually a really interesting concept because of what we know about demons in KNY.

Demons are often perversions of the human that they once were. We see this with Hakuji, how he forgot all of his love and care for those close to him, how the only thing he was left with was rage and violence. We see this with Daki, how she embraced the cruelty and vanity of being a being a demon after she forgot her troubled past. We see this even with demons like Kyogai and Rui, who both discard the people and things they were passionate for in favor of a twisted desire for acceptance. They’re broken people who don’t remember why they’re broken, and their every negative and selfish impulse is encouraged.

So… how does this apply to Kyojuro?

Well, I can’t see him becoming a sadist, or actively enjoying the act of inflicting harm on people, but this isn’t to say that he’d be a ‘good’ demon like Nezuko.

He wakes up and has no idea who he is. A stranger with tattoos and fangs tells him he is a demon by the name of Rengoku Kyojuro, and some part of that doesn’t sound right.

Kyojuro struggles at first. The corpses that his tattooed companion brings him look awful, and yet they’re the most delicious things he’s ever eaten. He feels compelled to exclaim how tasty it is with every messy bite. Despite how wrong it first feels, he enjoys eating, and Akaza always tells him that this is simply what demons do. Kyojuro sees the logic, and supposes that he is a demon, and he that he does, in fact, enjoy it.

Still, even after Akaza gifts him a sword, a beautiful work of Akaza’s demonic flesh, he feels aimless. What is his purpose? He’s been told he will live forever, but he has not one idea what he’s supposed to do with all that time.

First, Kyojuro tries befriending some humans. It works very well. Through his travels, he rediscovers that humans are magnificent creatures, no matter what role they serve— be that a demon’s meal or a skilled artisan! There is no shame in dying to a demon. After all, it would be quite silly for a rabbit feel shame for being caught in the jaws of a fox.

Most demons, however, are hostile to Kyojuro when he first approaches. They try to fight him or command him to leave their turf through their clenched fangs. Kyojuro is not dissuaded easily. Every demon he encounters puts up a front of cruelty and violence, but Kyojuro refuses to believe that’s all there is to every other demon besides himself.

And he’s right. It takes great effort and greater consistency, but once he strips back the brutality, demons are much, much like humans. They have passions and carry hobbies. They yearn for certain connection and have goals of their own they strive towards— there’s so much potential in them, isn’t there? They have so many stories about the past, how they adapt, how they survive and learn. Their Blood Arts are all so unique, their mutations and skills so varied.

Kyojuro loves demons.

And when his friends start being beheaded? Kyojuro sees only one thing to do. He is a strong demon, and it is his responsibility to protect the weak.

[pearwaldorf]

I have been trying to write this on and off for a while. I figure the second anniversary of the show is as fine an occasion as any to shove it out into the world. It is not everything I want to say about it, but I think the important bits are there.

It is a human impulse to be seen. To be told, through art, you are not alone. It is universal, but of special importance to people who are not well-represented in media (i.e. everybody who isn’t cis, white, able-bodied, skinny, and conventionally attractive).   

This show speaks to me as a queer person who figured things out later than most of my peers. (Not quite as late as Ed and Stede but not terribly far off either.) It’s not super common to see queer media address this, and I didn’t realize how much I needed that reassurance until I got it. That it’s okay to find these things any time in your life. To be told “A queer is never late, they’re always fashionably on-time.” 

They’re not my first canon queer ship. But they are the first ones where I knew it was true from the get-go. Multiple people assured me this was the case. And yet, I still didn’t believe it until I saw it with my own two eyes. This experience is not unusual for fans around my age.  

After I finished up season one, I laid in bed and cried. It’s not something I thought would affect me so much, but it feels like a weight I’d carried so long I didn’t realize it wasn’t supposed to be part of me is gone.

One of the reasons people unfamiliar with the fandom seem to think it’s absolutely crazy (which some of it is, to be fair, but every fandom has that) is the way fans of the show get extremely super intense about it. It took me a few weeks to realize this is a trauma response. I’m not even sure “trauma” is the right word. It doesn’t interfere with my day to day function, but it lasted for years. Decades. So it was definitely something that fucked me up. And in the way you can only start to see something as you’re moving past it, I’ve spent a lot of time trying to get my head around this. (I don’t know if I have anything to say about it yet. Maybe I need more time to sit with it.)

I know this sounds contrary, but I’m really glad David Jenkins does not come from fandom. Sometimes it’s good to know where a line is, and others it’s better to not know there’s a line at all. And this is, sad to say, remarkable to somebody who has had to deal with this for so long. With so many writers and showrunners aware of the line, and getting right up next to it, but never crossing it.

Imagine doing a show with a queer romance and not understanding why this was received with such emotion and fervor, because it’s just two people in love right? What blissful ignorance that this needed to be explained to him! And then he listened to people’s experiences with queerbaiting, and went “Oh my god you thought I was going to do WHAT?” And then you go “Huh. That is really fucked up.” 

The problem with being told something enough, even though you know it’s wrong, is you start to believe it regardless. All the excuses and hedging. It’s so very difficult to do they tell us, when we hear from queer creators how they had fight tooth and nail to make it as gay as it already was. 

And then comes Jenks, just yeeting it out there: majority queer and (not and/or. and) POC cast, an openly non-binary person playing an openly non-binary character. The ability to not have to make one queer (and/or) POC character speak for everybody, so you can inject a tiny bit of nuance into the conversation. The way you can tell more kinds of stories, like the one where the smol angry internalized homophobe comes into his own with the support of a queer community, even though he was a giant fucking asshole to them before.

So many people were like “You can just DO that? It’s really that easy?” And wasn’t that a fucking Situation, to have that curtain pulled aside. What next? Majority POC casts with stories about POC written by POC? Absolute madness. (Please please watch The Brothers Sun on Netflix. It’s so fucking good.) 

And people will scoff and say “Of course a cishet(?) white man would be able to get this pushed through.” But do they usually? The thing I don’t think people understand about allies is they use their privilege to wedge the door open. You still have to do the work to get through, but at least you have a place to start. And it really fucking matters.

The press keeps trying to tell me The Completely Made-Up Adventures of Dick Turpin is the OFMD substitute we need while we float in the gravy basket. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine show, but I don’t know who has watched OFMD and decided the itch we needed scratched was anachronistic historical comedy.

I want stories written by people that reflect their lived experiences, with actors and crew committed to bringing that to life. And I would like streamers and studios to commit to giving them a chance, and marketing them properly so people know they exist. 

You can keep people satisficed with scraps for only so long. At some point, somebody is going to give them a whole seven course dinner and people will wonder why they’ve been putting up with starving this entire time.