#I drew art for you my kindred spirit

[idiototheinternet]

@carrionfourth CRINGE he's smoking the terrible weed his children that he's mildly afraid of made him

So I've been reading the Moomin Books lately and I think that some people think that Snufkin is way less of a mess than he is

Bro is NOT a cool, stoic guy

He's a silly man who doesn't care whether or not visitors came by to see him specifically, he only cares that they're there now

He brought a can of beans to a theater to pay for 25 children and little My's tickets, children who he was literally afraid of in case he didn't like them

At the theater, when the whole play goes to chaos, he hoists said children on stage and asks Moominmama to take care of them

He cried over the sea being gone because of a comet coming towards Moominvalley, not because he was going to die, but because he liked the ocean and the steam rusted his harmonica

He also got so attached to the children that he said that he'd smoke the terrible tobacco they made every summer

He is not stoic, he shows emotion, and he's a loser

[baronvonkrieger]

Happy Birthday Charles Addams

With the Wednesday series having done so well on Netflix, she has become a very popular character. Of course, if it hadn’t been for Charles Addams, there wouldn’t be a Wednesday, and January 7th, is her creator’s 111th Birthday.

For a good part of the 20th Century, Charles Addams twisted look at life was very much a part of popular culture. Alfred Hitchcock was quite a fan, and went out of his way to meeting him in person. Hitchcock even gave him a shoutout in his film “North by Northwest”, while the house in Psycho was based on the houses he drew in a lot of cartoons. His series of Cartoons in the New Yorker were so popular, that the characters we now know as Gomez and Morticia, were referenced by Hannah Barbera, and in Rocky and Bullwinkle. He also did poster art for the 1957 film “How to Murder you Rich Uncle”, and the 1963 Hammer/William Castle remake of “The Old Dark House”. In 1962, dolls were even released by Aboriginal, where Morticia and Wednesday, finally got names. the 1964 series “The Addams Family” cemented Charles Addams as a part of popular culture to this day.

So, why am I have such interest in not just the “Addams Family”, but the works of Charles Addams? As I grew up, I was a fan of the 1964 TV series, and when my mother rented a 16 MM print of “The Old Dark House”, I was fascinated to see the opening credits created by Charles Adams. I think being a misfit had a lot to do with being in the military in the early 1980s, that in an army recreation facility, there was a copy of one of his collections of cartoons among the books, and I finally discovered the wonderfully twisted New Yorker cartoons, and it has cemented my love of his work ever since. I have a love of spooky old houses, antique cars, and twisted humor. When you really feel that you are an oddball, it’s only going to make you love it when you feel you’ve discovered a kindred spirit.

[captainhowdie]

Hello Captain!

Thank you so much for your art and comics!

It's so strange that you continue to live your normal life and do not know that you are saving a noname Russian girl.

I am 26 years old, after many decades of treatment, I still ended up in a psychiatric hospital, where I spent from February to April. I lost my job and dropped out of my senior year of college, two months before graduation. I started living with a man who abuses alcohol, and he got drunk and beat me on December 30, on the eve of the holiday. The day before yesterday, to distract from the heavy thoughts about what happened, I drew Randal. Your arts makes me (and, I'm sure, a lot of your readers) forget about the bad.

I used to draw comics, but I was disappointed in myself. At the beginning of December, I read all your comics, and a desire to continue my work woke up in me. Thank you very much, just thank you. I will allow myself vanity, but our storytelling styles are somewhat similar, and I immediately found a kindred spirit in you.

Your comics are very funny and you are a very talented and interesting person. I feel that you are kind and sympathetic, and it is very sad that such an unpleasant situation happened to you. You are strong. I wish you good luck and happiness in the new year.

Thank you Captain, you are the best person on the internet.

Best regards, Elona

[escapingrealityforamoment]

Hi! I love your writing so much! Can I request a Jonah one shot? Can you write something like, the reader is a famous actress and singer who is really well known, and goes to the little mermaid premiere and meets Jonah there and he’s super starstruck and they end up falling for each other?

Thank you so much love for your request! I hope you enjoy reading this and I enjoyed writing it 💖

The night was filled with excitement and anticipation as Hollywood's elite gathered for the highly anticipated premiere of "The Little Mermaid." As cameras flashed and fans clamored for a glimpse of their favorite stars, I stepped out of my car, feeling a mix of nervousness and thrill. As a renowned actress and singer, I was no stranger to red carpet events, but tonight felt different. It was as if destiny had something extraordinary in store for me.

As I walked down the red carpet, the air crackled with energy, and I couldn't help but catch glimpses of familiar faces and rising stars. Among the crowd, my eyes locked with Jonah Hauer-King, the talented actor who portrayed the film's prince. His captivating smile and kind eyes drew me in, and for a moment, time stood still.

As if pulled by an invisible force, our paths converged, and Jonah approached me with a mixture of awe and excitement on his face. "I can't believe I'm meeting you," he confessed, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness.

A blush tinted my cheeks as I replied, "The feeling is mutual. I've admired your work for so long."

We engaged in conversation, and as the night unfolded, I discovered a kindred spirit in Jonah. We laughed, exchanged stories, and shared our love for the arts. It was as if we had known each other for years, effortlessly connecting on a profound level.

Throughout the premiere, we found ourselves drawn to each other's company, seeking solace amidst the chaos of the event. We stole moments between interviews and photo sessions, our conversations filled with laughter and genuine interest. With each passing interaction, the spark between us grew stronger, undeniable and impossible to ignore.

Under the starlit sky, we found ourselves on a balcony overlooking the bustling city. The hum of the premiere faded into the background as we locked eyes, and the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of us in that magical moment.

"I never expected to meet someone like you tonight," Jonah admitted, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. "You're everything I've ever admired, and so much more."

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I replied, "And you, Jonah, are a beacon of talent and charm. Meeting you has been an absolute joy."

In that instant, the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. The undeniable chemistry between us had ignited a flame that couldn't be extinguished. The premiere had brought us together, and now, we stood on the precipice of a love that promised to transcend the glamour and fame.

As the night wore on, we held hands, intertwining our fingers as we walked through the crowd, no longer separate entities but two souls entwined in a tapestry of fate. The world watched as we danced, laughed, and embraced the chaos of the evening, finding solace in each other's arms.

In the midst of the celebration, Jonah leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want this night to end," he confessed. "I want to explore this connection we have and see where it leads."

I nodded, my heart racing with excitement. "I feel the same way, Jonah. Let's embark on this journey together."

And with that, our love story began—a tale woven amidst the glitz and glamour of the entertainment world. From that magical night, our lives intertwined, each chapter more enchanting than the last.

As we stepped into the unknown, hand in hand, we knew that our love would be a constant amidst the chaos. With our hearts aligned and a shared passion for the arts, we were ready to face the world together, embracing the magic of love and the beauty of our intertwined destinies.

[thegreeks]

A Dance of Words

The sun was setting over the beautiful sprawling estates of Pemberley. Since your arrival weeks ago, you had found yourself enchanted not just by the beauty of the surroundings but by the man who resided within their walls—Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

You had met Mr. Darcy at the request of his sister, Georgiana, a sweet and gentle soul who had befriended you after a fortuitous encounter. Georgiana had invited you to stay with them, and as the days passed, you noticed a shift in Mr. Darcy’s demeanor whenever you were around. He was reserved, yes, but there was a tenderness that flickered in his dark eyes, often when he thought you weren’t looking.

On a particularly lovely evening, you found yourself in the magnificent drawing room, where the scent of blooming roses wafted through the open windows. Georgiana was seated at the piano, playing a soft melody, filling the space with serene notes that blended harmoniously with the chirping of the crickets outside. You leaned against an ornate mantelpiece, lost in thought.

It was then that Mr. Darcy entered the room, his tall figure framed by the door. He paused for a moment, his gaze landing on you. There was a strange intensity in it, an unspoken warmth that made your heart flutter.

“May I have the pleasure of your company for a moment?” he asked, his voice deep and soft.

“Certainly, Mr. Darcy,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady. You followed him to a quieter corner of the room, the melody of Georgiana’s music providing an enchanting backdrop.

“Have you enjoyed your stay at Pemberley?” he inquired, a hint of formality lingering in his words.

“I have, indeed. Your home is breathtaking,” you replied, glancing around at the elegantly adorned room. “But more so, your sister has made my visit delightful.”

Mr. Darcy’s gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw a flicker of relief wash over him. “She has a gift for bringing joy to others.”

The conversation flowed more easily than you had anticipated. You spoke of books, art, and the pleasures of nature, finding in Mr. Darcy a kindred spirit. He listened intently, leaning closer as you spoke, his eyes never leaving your face. You could almost feel a warmth radiating from him, wrapping you in a secure embrace.

As the evening wore on, Georgiana finished her piece and called for a dance. A blush crept onto your cheeks as Mr. Darcy offered his hand. “Shall we?”

The sweeping staircase and grand ballroom were enchanting, filled with echoes of past dances and laughter. As you stepped into the space, you felt a thrill of nervousness. Mr. Darcy took his position before you, his tall form intimidating yet incredibly handsome.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low, and the moment you nodded, he drew you in, his hand firm on your waist.

The music began, and you moved in synchrony with him, the world outside fading away. His presence was magnetic; each turn and twirl made your heart race.

“This is a wonderful way to enjoy the evening,” you said softly, meeting his gaze.

“Indeed,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, “but I must admit, the pleasure is all mine.”

You both danced in silence for a few moments, the connection between you growing stronger with each movement. When the music began to slow, Mr. Darcy gently led you to a quieter alcove, the glow from the candlelight painting you both in warmth.

“Miss Y/L/N,” he began hesitantly, the weight of his words palpable in the air. “It is a rarity for one to find a like-minded soul, one with whom one can speak freely and without caution.”

You felt your breath catch, searching for the right response. “I feel the same, Mr. Darcy. Our conversations have been a source of great joy for me.”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly, searching for the right words. “I must confess, since you arrived at Pemberley, I have found myself… captivated by your spirit. It is unlike anything I have encountered before.”

Your heart raced at his admission, the sincerity in his eyes making you flush. “Mr. Darcy, I—”

Before you could finish, Georgiana reappeared, no doubt sensing the intensity of the moment. “What are you two whispering about? It appears you’re deep in conversation!”

With a small, shared laugh, you both stepped apart, yet the unspoken promise lingered in the air between you.

Later that evening, as you prepared for bed, your thoughts roamed freely to Mr. Darcy. The depth of his eyes, the cadence of his voice resonated in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to come.

The days that followed continued in a delightful whirlwind of shared laughter, conversation, and an undeniable chemistry that filled every moment you spent together. And as the sun dipped below the horizon on your final evening at Pemberley, you stood on the balcony, gazing out at the peaceful landscape.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Mr. Darcy’s voice broke through your reverie. He stepped beside you, the soft glow of the stars illuminating his handsome features. “I have been meaning to speak with you.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. “What is it, Mr. Darcy?”

He hesitated, taking a deep breath. “I wish to express how profoundly I have come to admire you. You are quite unlike anyone I have ever known, and it would fill me with great joy if I could have the honor of getting to know you better. Would you consent to letting me pursue your acquaintance beyond this visit?”

Your heart soared at his words, the vulnerability in his expression making you feel cherished. “I would be delighted, Mr. Darcy,” you replied, a smile breaking through your previous uncertainty.

With a radiant smile on his lips, he reached for your hand, raising it gently to his lips. “Then let us see where this dance of words might lead.”

In that moment, beneath the vast sky, your hearts spoke a language only they could understand, and you both knew that this was just the beginning of a beautiful courtship—a sweet dance that would echo across time.

[thatartiststudios]

Been forever since I posted some of my fic since I've been working on another wip mostly, so here's another extra long snippet, as a treat!

   The playful banter continued, laughter filling the air as they learned not just about each other’s abilities but also about the trust and camaraderie that were slowly but surely growing among them.

   The group settled into a circle, their diverse backgrounds evident in the way they carried themselves. Carter, with his Egyptian heritage, admired the craftsmanship of Rayla’s Moonshadow Butterfly blades.  He pulled out his Khopesh, the curved Egyptian sword glinting in the sunlight, and examined the intricate carvings along its blade. 

   “Impressive blades you got there, Rayla. But there’s a certain elegance to the Khopesh,” he commented, a touch of pride in his voice.

   Rayla nodded appreciatively. “It certainly looks deadly. I’ve witnessed Callum forge his runes on the battlefield, and they possess a lethal grace of their own.”

   Callum shot a grin at Carter, recognizing a kindred spirit in their shared knowledge of their respective worlds.

   “You know, Carter, Xadia boasts a rich history of magical runes and spells. I’ve delved into ancient scrolls, deciphered forgotten tomes—” He was interrupted by an exaggerated eye roll from Rayla.

   Piper smirked at Rayla’s antics. “I suppose you could enlighten us about his research?”

   Rayla cast a playful sidelong glance at Callum. “Oh, can I ever,” she said, feigning a groan at her mage, who huffed in mock offense.

   “You say that as if you don’t enjoy it,” Callum retorted.

   “I didn’t say I don’t enjoy it,” Rayla replied, her tone teasing. “I’m merely pointing out that I only grasp about 40% of your ‘scholarly musings.’”

   Callum chuckled, his emerald eyes glinting with mirth. “Well, that’s 40% more than most people. Understanding runes is an art, after all.”

   Sadie, ever curious, leaned forward. “So, what kind of spells can you do, Callum? Anything impressive?”

   Callum exchanged a glance with Rayla, who shrugged nonchalantly. “Well,” he began, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “I can summon lightning, create barriers, and even manipulate the elements to an extent. But my favorite spell? That’s tough to choose.”

   “Then just pick one to show us.” Jason suggested.

   Callum nodded as an incantation came to mind, “Alright, then,”

   Callum stepped forward, a determined glint in his emerald eyes. He set his mage staff down on the deck, taking several steps back to create distance. With a focused expression, he traced a blue rune in the air and stretched his hand forth and spoke the incantation, “Ventum Magneticus!”

   A whirlwind of air erupted from his outstretched palm, snaking its way towards his staff. The gust of wind enveloped the staff, lifting it off the ground, and drew it back to Callum’s hand with swift precision. His mage staff twirled gracefully in the air before landing securely in his grip.

   The group watched in awe, captivated by the display of Primal magic. Leo let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. 

   “That’s some handy magic you got there, Callum. Imagine the possibilities.”

   Piper grinned, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “Can you use that spell on anything? Or is it just for your staff?”

   Callum nodded, a confident smile playing on his lips. “I can use it on various objects, as long as they’re not too heavy. It’s one of the basic wind manipulation spells for Sky magic.”

   Sadie leaned forward, intrigued. “Could you use it in combat?”

   Callum nodded again, his eyes alight with enthusiasm. “Absolutely. It’s great for disarming opponents or retrieving objects from a distance. The key is precision and timing.”

   Carter chimed in with his thoughts. “It’s impressive how you seamlessly blend magic and strategy. That’s a valuable skill to have.” The admiration in his voice was evident, a recognition of Callum’s prowess.

   Callum then decided to direct the spotlight to the Kane siblings, “What about you guys? You said you’re both magicians, right? Is that anything like a mage?”

   “Sort of. I certainly think that Egyptian magic is the closest to Primal magic, in terms of the glowing runes—Hieroglyphics, and having to speak the spell,” Carter replied.

   “Would one of you like to demonstrate for us?” Leo asked.

   A mischievous grin traced its way across Sadie’s face. “I could demonstrate—”

   But before she could speak the incantation, she was interrupted by a profuse “No!” from Carter.

   Sadie just rolled her eyes, “Honestly, brother, you didn’t think I’d actually do it, did you?”

   “I wouldn’t put it past you,” he huffed.

   “Like I’d try to blow up the ship we’re on.” She shot back.

   Sadie stood up and grabbed a teacup from one of the cupboards in the meeting room and brought it back on deck, letting it smash.

   “Hi-nehm,” she spoke, and small gold hieroglyphics appeared in front of her as the remains of the teacup reformed in her hands. The precision and finesse with which she performed the spell were impressive, leaving the others in awe of her mastery of Egyptian magic. Carter, despite his initial reluctance, couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride for his sister’s skill.

   “Now, that’s impressive!” Leo exclaimed, his eyes wide with amazement. “Imagine fixing things that way!”

   Piper grinned, her curiosity piqued. “You think it’d come in handy during a combat situation?”

   Sadie tilted her head thoughtfully. “Huh, I’ve never thought about that. I suppose it could though.”

   “That sounds incredibly useful,” Callum remarked, clearly impressed by Sadie’s demonstration. “It’s amazing how different our magic systems are, yet they all have their unique strengths.”

   Jason spoke up, “How does Primal magic work, exactly? Is it like Egyptian magic?”

   “Actually,” Callum began, his voice carrying a sense of reverence, “in Xadia, there are six primal sources of magic. The Sun, The Moon, The Stars, The Sky, The Earth, and The Ocean. Each source is tied to a specific Arcanum, a kind of primal connection that allows us to harness its power.”

   He paused for a moment, his eyes distant as if recalling memories etched in magic. “So far, I’ve connected to three Arcanums. The Sky, which grants me access to Sky magic like my mage wings, The Ocean, which lets me control water and ice, and The Moon, which enhances my ability to see in the dark and allows me to perceive and cast illusions.”

   Curiosity flickered in Jason’s eyes. “Connecting to each of them must be hard, right?”

   Callum nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not easy, as humans were never meant to do it. Each time I connected to an Arcanum, it was during a trial, a profound moment of understanding the secret of the primal. It’s about unlocking the knowledge of the primal source, learning its essence, and forging a connection. Only then can you wield that type of magic.”

   Piper chimed in, her interest piqued. “So, it’s not just about power, but understanding and respect for the primal sources?” 

   “Exactly,” Callum affirmed. “Primal magic isn’t just a tool; it’s a bond, a harmony between the mage and the essence of the world. To wield it responsibly, one must grasp the essence of the source and the balance it maintains in nature.”

Next Part

And that's the last of Chapter 2! Hope to post the first bit of Chapter 3 tomorrow, so stay tuned!

[melissalencioni]

In the tranquil gardens of Mount Olympus, where the sweet scent of roses mingled with the whispers of the wind, Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, reclined upon a bed of soft petals. Her golden locks cascaded around her shoulders, framing a face of timeless allure, while her gaze danced with the flickering light of eternal mischief. Nearby, Hermes, the fleet-footed messenger of the gods, approached with an air of boundless energy, his eyes twinkling with the promise of adventure.

"Ah, Aphrodite," Hermes called out, his voice carrying the lighthearted melody of the heavens, "what brings you to this tranquil corner of Olympus?"

Aphrodite smiled, a knowing glimmer in her eyes as she beckoned Hermes to join her amidst the fragrant blooms. "Oh, Hermes, ever the curious one," she replied, her voice a melodic symphony that stirred the very essence of love itself. "I am simply drawn to the beauty of these flowers, each petal a testament to nature's infinite grace."

Hermes chuckled, his laughter echoing through the garden like the gentle patter of rain upon springtime blossoms. "Indeed, the beauty of this place rivals even your own, my lady," he remarked, his eyes alight with playful mischief. "But tell me true, is there not another reason for your presence here? Perhaps a certain mortal has captured your attention?"

Aphrodite's laughter danced upon the breeze, a melodious echo of timeless enchantment. "Ah, you know me too well, Hermes," she confessed, her smile as beguiling as the dawn's first light. "Yes, there is a mortal whose heart I seek to ensnare with my charms. But alas, he remains steadfast in his resistance to love's sweet embrace."

Hermes' grin widened, his mind already spinning with the possibilities that lay ahead. "Fear not, my lady," he declared, his voice brimming with confidence. "For if there is one thing I excel at, it is the art of persuasion. Allow me to lend a helping hand, and together we shall kindle the flames of passion within his heart."

Aphrodite's eyes sparkled with anticipation, a tantalizing promise of love's eternal dance. "Very well, Hermes," she agreed, her voice a gentle caress upon the wind. "But remember, we must tread lightly, for the path to love is fraught with perilous twists and turns."

With a nod of understanding, Hermes vanished in a flash of golden light, leaving Aphrodite to ponder the mysteries of love's enchanting embrace. In the realm of gods and mortals alike, the dance of love knew no bounds, and with the aid of her fellow Olympians, Aphrodite was determined to weave her magic once more.

The man who had captured Aphrodite's attention was unlike any other mortal she had encountered. His stature was that of a warrior, tall and commanding, with sinewy muscles honed by countless battles. Yet it was not his physical prowess alone that drew Aphrodite to him, but rather the depths of his soul, as elusive and mysterious as the ocean's depths.

His eyes were like twin pools of liquid gold, reflecting the wisdom of ages past and the promise of adventures yet to come. In their depths, Aphrodite glimpsed a kindred spirit, a soul yearning for connection amidst the chaos of the mortal realm. His voice carried the weight of ancient truths, each word a melody that stirred her very essence, awakening desires long dormant within her heart.

But it was not only his strength and wisdom that captivated Aphrodite, for there was a gentleness to him, a tender vulnerability hidden beneath the armor of his stoic demeanor. In moments of quiet solitude, she watched him from afar, marveling at the way he tended to wounded souls with a kindness born of compassion.

Yet despite his noble qualities, the man remained oblivious to Aphrodite's presence, his heart shielded by walls of doubt and fear. It was this challenge that intrigued her most, for she knew that beneath his exterior lay a heart yearning to be set free, a soul longing for the warmth of love's embrace.

And so, with a determined spirit and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, Aphrodite set her sights on the man, determined to awaken the dormant passions within his heart and ignite a love that would transcend the boundaries of time and space.

Nearby, amidst the verdant beauty of the garden, stood a woman whose presence radiated an ethereal grace that rivaled even the goddess herself. Her hair cascaded in waves of midnight black, framing a face of delicate beauty, with features so refined they seemed sculpted by the hand of a master artisan.

Her eyes, the color of the midnight sky, sparkled with a quiet intensity, their depths betraying a wisdom far beyond her years. In their gaze, one could glimpse the secrets of the universe, whispered in hushed tones by the stars themselves.

She moved with a fluidity that spoke of grace and strength intertwined, each step a dance of elegance that captivated all who beheld her. Her attire was simple yet elegant, a flowing gown of azure silk that billowed around her like a cloud, accentuating the curves of her form with subtle allure.

But it was not only her outward beauty that captivated those around her, for within her heart burned a fire of passion and determination that could rival even the brightest flame. She was a woman of substance, with a spirit as indomitable as the raging sea and a heart as boundless as the heavens above.

Though her name was known to few, her presence left an indelible mark upon the world, a testament to the power of love and the enduring strength of the human spirit. In her, Aphrodite saw a kindred soul, a sister in arms in the eternal quest for love's elusive embrace.

Aphrodite, determined to kindle the flames of love within the heart of the man she had set her sights on, called upon Hermes, the ever-resourceful messenger of the gods, to deliver her message.

"Hermes," she said, her voice a melodious symphony that echoed through the gardens of Olympus, "I beseech you, go forth and speak to the man whose heart I seek to enrapture. His name is Alexander, a warrior of noble lineage, yet his soul remains untouched by love's gentle caress."

Hermes nodded, his eyes alight with the thrill of the task at hand. "Fear not, my lady," he declared, his voice brimming with confidence. "I shall journey to the mortal realm and deliver your message unto Alexander, that he may know the depths of your affection."

With a flash of golden light, Hermes vanished from sight, leaving Aphrodite to await the outcome of his mission with bated breath. In the realm of gods and mortals alike, the whims of love knew no bounds, and with the aid of her faithful messenger, Aphrodite was determined to weave her magic once more.

Hermes, the swift-footed messenger of the gods, descended from Mount Olympus to the mortal realm, where he sought out Alexander, the noble warrior whose heart Aphrodite longed to ensnare. Finding Alexander amidst the bustle of a bustling marketplace, Hermes approached with a charismatic charm that few could resist.

"Alexander," Hermes called out, his voice carrying the lighthearted melody of the heavens, "I come bearing a message from the gods themselves, a message of love and longing that knows no bounds."

Alexander turned to face Hermes, his gaze alight with curiosity as he beheld the divine messenger before him. "Speak, messenger of the gods," he replied, his voice resonating with a quiet strength born of countless battles. "What message do the heavens wish to impart unto me?"

Hermes smiled, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes as he surveyed the scene before him. "Behold," he exclaimed, his voice carrying across the crowded marketplace, "for amidst the throngs of mortals, there stands a woman whose beauty rivals even that of the goddess herself."

With a flourish of his hand, Hermes gestured toward the woman, whose name was Isabella, a vision of grace and elegance amidst the chaos of the mortal world. Her eyes met Alexander's with a quiet intensity, their depths betraying a warmth and compassion that stirred something deep within his soul.

"Isabella," Hermes continued, his voice filled with a sense of reverence, "a name whispered upon the lips of gods and mortals alike, a name that carries with it the promise of love's eternal embrace. Look upon her, Alexander, and see the reflection of your own heart's desire."

Alexander's gaze lingered upon Isabella, his heart stirred by the sight of her radiant beauty. In that moment, he felt a longing unlike any he had ever known, a yearning to know the depths of her soul and bask in the warmth of her love.

With a nod of understanding, Alexander turned to Hermes, his eyes alight with newfound determination. "Thank you, messenger of the gods," he declared, his voice filled with resolve. "I shall heed your words and follow the path that leads to love's enduring embrace."

And so, guided by the wisdom of the gods and the whispers of his own heart, Alexander embarked upon a journey of love and discovery, his destiny intertwined with that of Isabella, the woman whose name would forever be etched upon his soul.

As Alexander stood before Isabella, his heart torn between duty and desire, he felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over him. Though he was drawn to her with an intensity he could not deny, a voice within him whispered of the dangers of love's intoxicating embrace.

With a heavy heart, Alexander shook off the feelings of love, believing them to be nothing more than a distraction, a cloud that threatened to obscure his warrior's mind. He reminded himself of the solemn oath he had sworn to protect his people, to defend his kingdom against the looming threat of war.

Turning away from Isabella, Alexander bid her farewell with a voice that carried the weight of his resolve. "Forgive me, Isabella," he said, his tone tinged with regret. "But duty calls, and I must answer."

As he walked away, Alexander felt the ache of longing gnawing at his heart, a bittersweet reminder of the love he had chosen to forsake. Yet he knew that in order to fulfill his destiny as a warrior, he must steel himself against the temptations of love's fleeting embrace.

And so, with each step he took away from Isabella, Alexander reaffirmed his commitment to his people and his kingdom, vowing to return to her side only once the threat of war had been vanquished and peace restored to the land.

In the aftermath of his encounter with Isabella, Alexander immersed himself in preparations for the impending war that loomed on the horizon. As a seasoned warrior, he knew the weight of responsibility that rested upon his shoulders and the sacrifices that must be made for the greater good of his people.

Gathering his troops, Alexander stood at the forefront of his army, his gaze unwavering as he addressed his men with a voice filled with conviction. He spoke of honor, duty, and the relentless pursuit of victory, rallying their spirits for the battles that lay ahead.

The air was charged with anticipation as Alexander led his forces into the heart of the conflict, each step bringing them closer to the clash of swords and the roar of battle. Amidst the chaos of war, he fought with a ferocity born of desperation, determined to defend his homeland against the encroaching darkness.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Alexander's resolve was put to the test as he confronted the harsh realities of warfare. He witnessed the devastation wrought upon the land and the toll it took on the lives of those he held dear.

But amidst the bloodshed and the chaos, Alexander remained steadfast in his determination to emerge victorious, drawing strength from the courage of his comrades and the knowledge that the fate of his kingdom hung in the balance.

And so, with every battle fought and every victory won, Alexander edged closer to his ultimate goal, knowing that only through perseverance and sacrifice could he hope to secure a future of peace and prosperity for his people.

As the war raged on and the fate of Alexander's kingdom hung in the balance, Hermes approached Aphrodite with a daring proposition. "My lady," he said, his voice laced with urgency, "there is another woman whose heart yearns for Alexander's affection. She is a fellow warrior, a fierce and noble soul who fights by his side with unwavering loyalty."

Aphrodite listened intently, her brow furrowed with concern as she considered Hermes' words. "And what of Isabella?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Have we not already intervened enough in the affairs of mortals?"

Hermes shook his head, his eyes ablaze with determination. "Isabella's fate is intertwined with that of Alexander, but this woman... she harbors a love for him that burns with the intensity of a thousand suns. If we were to cast a spell upon Alexander, to awaken within him the same passion he feels for Isabella, perhaps we could tip the scales of fate in favor of peace."

Aphrodite hesitated, torn between her desire to see Alexander find happiness and her reluctance to meddle further in the affairs of mortals. But as she gazed upon the chaos of war below, her heart ached with the knowledge of the suffering that ravaged the land.

"Very well, Hermes," she conceded, her voice softening with resolve. "But let us tread carefully, for love's enchantments are a double-edged sword, capable of both healing and harm."

With a nod of understanding, Hermes and Aphrodite joined forces to cast their spell upon Alexander, infusing his heart with the fervent passion of the fellow warrior who fought by his side. And as the magic took hold, Alexander's resolve was tested in ways he could never have imagined, his heart torn between two loves as he fought to secure a future of peace and prosperity for his kingdom.

As the love spell took hold of Alexander's heart, its effects were subtle yet profound, like the gentle caress of a breeze on a summer's eve. At first, he felt a stirring deep within his soul, a newfound sense of connection and camaraderie with the fellow warrior who fought by his side.

With each passing day, Alexander found himself drawn to the warrior woman, whose name was Serena, with a magnetism that defied explanation. He admired her courage and resilience on the battlefield, her unwavering loyalty to their cause serving as a beacon of strength amidst the chaos of war.

But it was not only Serena's bravery that captivated Alexander, for there was a warmth and kindness in her eyes that spoke to the depths of her soul. He found solace in her presence, a sense of peace that eluded him amidst the tumult of battle.

As the bond between them deepened, Alexander felt a love blossoming within his heart, a love born not of passion or desire, but of mutual respect and understanding. He saw in Serena a kindred spirit, a soulmate whose presence brought light to the darkest corners of his being.

And though his heart still bore the memory of Isabella's fleeting embrace, Alexander knew that his destiny lay with Serena, the warrior woman whose love had ignited a flame within him that burned brighter than any he had ever known.

With each passing day, as they fought side by side on the battlefield, Alexander and Serena forged a bond that would withstand the trials of war and the challenges of time. And amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, their love a beacon of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume them.

As Alexander returned home between battles, the memories of Isabella lingered like a haunting melody, her beauty etched into his mind like a timeless masterpiece. Each time he beheld her image, his heart stirred with a longing that he could not ignore, despite the love spell that bound him to Serena.

Conflicted and torn between two loves, Alexander found himself grappling with the depths of his emotions as he navigated the complexities of his heart. Though he was drawn to Serena with a fierce and undeniable passion, the memory of Isabella's enchanting presence haunted his every thought, casting a shadow over his newfound happiness.

As he walked the halls of his home, the echoes of Isabella's laughter filled the air, a haunting reminder of the love he had forsaken in the name of duty. He found himself yearning for her touch, her voice, her warmth, even as he fought to suppress the feelings that threatened to consume him.

But try as he might to push her memory aside, Isabella remained ever-present in Alexander's heart, a constant reminder of the choices he had made and the sacrifices he had endured in the name of love. And though he knew that his destiny lay with Serena, the warrior woman who had captured his heart on the battlefield, he could not shake the feeling that his soul was still entwined with Isabella's in ways he could not fully comprehend.

As the war raged on and the battles grew fiercer, Alexander found himself torn between duty and desire, his heart a battlefield unto itself as he struggled to reconcile the conflicting emotions that waged war within him. And amidst the chaos and uncertainty of his world, he knew that the path to true love would be fraught with perilous twists and turns, each step a testament to the enduring power of the human heart.

As Serena witnessed the lingering gaze that Alexander cast upon Isabella, a tumult of emotions welled up within her heart, threatening to overwhelm her with their intensity. Despite the love spell that bound them together, she could sense the depth of Alexander's feelings for Isabella, a truth that pierced her soul like a dagger.

Unable to bear the weight of her broken heart any longer, Serena sought out Alexander in the quiet solitude of their chambers, her voice trembling with emotion as she confronted him with the painful truth.

"Alexander," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "I see the way you look at Isabella, the longing in your eyes that betrays the depth of your feelings. And though I try to deny it, I cannot ignore the ache in my heart, the knowledge that I am but a shadow in the light of your love for her."

Tears welled up in Serena's eyes as she spoke, her words a raw and unfiltered expression of her innermost pain. She had hoped that the bond they shared, forged in the crucible of war, would be enough to sustain them through the trials that lay ahead. But now, faced with the harsh reality of Alexander's affections for another, she felt the walls of her world come crashing down around her.

"I cannot compete with the memory of Isabella," Serena confessed, her voice choked with emotion. "Nor do I wish to. If your heart belongs to her, then I must set you free, no matter the cost to my own happiness."

With a heavy heart, Serena turned away from Alexander, her spirit weighed down by the burden of unrequited love. Though she knew that their paths would diverge, she could not deny the love she felt for him, a love that would remain etched upon her soul long after he had gone.

As the love spell woven by Aphrodite began to unravel, Alexander's mind cleared, and he saw the truth with newfound clarity. The feelings he had harbored for Isabella were no longer clouded by enchantment; instead, they were revealed as a fleeting infatuation compared to the genuine bond he shared with Serena.

With a heavy heart, Alexander realized the pain he had caused Serena, the woman who had stood by his side through the darkest of times, only to have her heart shattered by his conflicting emotions. He knew that he could never undo the hurt he had inflicted upon her, and the weight of regret settled upon his shoulders like a heavy burden.

Seeking solace in the quiet solitude of his chambers, Alexander reflected upon the choices he had made and the consequences they had wrought. Though he longed to turn back the hands of time and spare Serena the pain of his indecision, he knew that such wishes were but futile dreams in the face of reality.

With each passing moment, Alexander's regret deepened, a constant reminder of the love he had lost and the wounds he had inflicted upon the woman who had given him her heart without hesitation. And though he knew that forgiveness might never come, he vowed to spend the rest of his days seeking redemption for the pain he had caused, a penance for the love he had forsaken.

As Alexander grappled with the weight of his emotions and the choices that lay before him, Hermes approached him with a solemn expression, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

"Alexander," Hermes began, his voice gentle yet firm, "the time has come for you to make a choice. The love you feel for Isabella is no mere enchantment, but a genuine bond that transcends the boundaries of magic. And yet, Serena's heart lies broken at your feet, her love for you unwavering despite the pain you have caused her."

Alexander's heart weighed heavy with indecision as he pondered Hermes' words, torn between the love he had known before Serena and the connection he shared with her. Each woman represented a different path, a different future, and he knew that whichever choice he made would shape the course of his life irrevocably.

Closing his eyes, Alexander took a deep breath, the weight of his decision pressing down upon him like a mountain. In the depths of his soul, he knew that there could be no easy answers, no simple solutions to the complexities of love and longing.

And yet, as he opened his eyes and met Hermes' gaze, a sense of clarity washed over him like a cleansing tide. With a voice steady and resolute, he spoke the words that had been echoing in his heart since the moment he first laid eyes on Isabella.

"I choose Isabella," Alexander declared, his voice unwavering despite the ache in his heart. "For though my love for Serena is true, it is Isabella who holds the key to my soul, the one who has captured my heart with a fierceness that cannot be denied."

As the weight of his decision settled upon him, Alexander braced himself for the consequences that would surely follow. For though he had chosen love over duty, he knew that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges and obstacles that would test the strength of his resolve.

But in that moment, as he stood before Hermes with his heart laid bare, Alexander knew that he had chosen the only path that felt true to his soul, the path that led to Isabella and the love that burned bright within his heart.

As Aphrodite observed Alexander's decision with a sense of approval, she believed that he had chosen wisely, following the call of his heart despite the challenges that lay ahead. In her eyes, love was a powerful force, capable of both healing and destruction, and she hoped that Alexander's choice would lead him to the happiness he so fervently sought.

But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, Serena's heart remained bitter and resentful, her love for Alexander twisted into a consuming obsession that threatened to consume her from within. Unable to accept his rejection, she allowed her pain to fester and grow, transforming her once noble spirit into one consumed by darkness.

Driven by her newfound bitterness and resentment, Serena turned to darker forces for solace, seeking out allies who shared her desire for vengeance against those who had wronged her. With each passing day, she grew more embittered and vengeful, her heart consumed by a darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

As Serena's descent into villainy continued unabated, she became a formidable adversary, her once noble intentions twisted into a relentless pursuit of power and revenge. No longer content to simply nurse her wounds in silence, she sought to bring about the downfall of those she deemed responsible for her suffering, including Alexander and Isabella.

And so, as the shadows of war and betrayal loomed large upon the horizon, Serena emerged as a force to be reckoned with, her heart consumed by bitterness and her soul twisted by resentment. In her quest for vengeance, she became a villain of her own making, a tragic figure whose fall from grace served as a cautionary tale of the dangers of allowing love to turn to hate.

As the war raged on and tensions mounted between the opposing factions, Hermes approached Aphrodite with a grave expression etched upon his features. "My lady," he began, his voice tinged with concern, "there has been a development on the battlefield. Serena, driven by bitterness and resentment, has switched sides and now approaches Alexander as an enemy."

Aphrodite's heart sank at the news, a sense of foreboding settling over her like a dark cloud. Though she had hoped that Serena would find solace and redemption in the wake of her heartbreak, it seemed that her descent into villainy had only deepened, leading her down a path of darkness from which there could be no return.

"It grieves me to hear this," Aphrodite replied, her voice heavy with sorrow. "Serena was once a noble warrior, but her heart has been consumed by bitterness and resentment. We must tread carefully, for her actions threaten to plunge the mortal realm into even greater chaos and strife."

With a heavy heart, Aphrodite and Hermes set out to confront Serena and attempt to reason with her before it was too late. But as they journeyed to the battlefield, they knew that the road ahead would be fraught with peril, for Serena's descent into darkness had transformed her into a formidable adversary, one whose thirst for vengeance knew no bounds.

As the battlefield erupted into chaos and the clash of swords filled the air, Alexander found himself face to face with Serena, the woman he had once loved and now faced as an enemy. Shock and disbelief coursed through him as he beheld the bitterness and resentment that twisted her once noble spirit into one consumed by darkness.

Unable to bring himself to raise his sword against her, Alexander stood frozen in place, his heart heavy with the weight of his crimes against her. He knew that his betrayal had shattered her trust and fractured their bond beyond repair, leaving him powerless to reason with her in the heat of battle.

Hermes, ever the voice of reason, attempted to coax Serena back to the side of good, his words a plea for redemption amidst the chaos and destruction that surrounded them. But his efforts fell on deaf ears, as Serena's heart remained hardened by the pain and suffering she had endured at Alexander's hands.

With each passing moment, the divide between them widened, until they stood on opposite sides of the battlefield, their swords drawn and their hearts filled with bitterness and resentment. And though Alexander longed to reach out to her, to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon her soul, he knew that the time for reconciliation had passed, leaving only the bitter taste of regret in its wake.

As the battle raged on and the casualties mounted, Alexander and Serena fought with a ferocity born of desperation, their swords clashing amidst the chaos and destruction that engulfed them. And though their destinies were intertwined in ways they could never have imagined, the chasm between them remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of the consequences of love gone awry.

The battlefield was a maelstrom of chaos and destruction, with the clash of swords and the cries of warriors echoing across the blood-soaked earth. Amidst the fray, Serena and Alexander faced each other, their swords drawn and their hearts heavy with the weight of their shared history.

Serena's eyes burned with a fierce determination as she advanced upon Alexander, her movements swift and calculated as she sought to strike him down. "You betrayed me, Alexander," she spat, her voice tinged with bitterness and resentment. "You broke my heart and cast me aside like a worthless pawn. Now, you shall pay the price for your treachery."

Alexander's heart clenched at her words, the guilt weighing heavily upon him as he met her gaze with a mixture of sorrow and regret. "I never meant to hurt you, Serena," he replied, his voice filled with anguish. "But my heart belongs to another, and I cannot change the past. All I can do is ask for your forgiveness and pray for a chance at redemption."

But Serena would hear none of it, her heart hardened by the pain of betrayal and the thirst for vengeance that consumed her from within. With a cry of fury, she lunged at Alexander, her sword flashing in the sunlight as she sought to strike him down.

The clash of their blades rang out across the battlefield, each blow fueled by the raw emotion that coursed through their veins. As they fought, their words became lost amidst the din of battle, replaced by the primal instinct to survive and emerge victorious at any cost.

For what felt like an eternity, Serena and Alexander battled amidst the chaos and destruction, their swords locked in a deadly dance of steel and blood. And though their destinies were intertwined in ways they could never have imagined, the divide between them remained unbridgeable, a stark reminder of the consequences of love gone awry.

In the end, it was not the strength of their swords or the fury of their blows that determined the outcome of the battle, but the weight of their hearts and the scars they carried within. And as the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded into silence, Serena and Alexander stood amidst the ruins of their shared history, forever changed by the war that had torn them apart.

With each clash of their swords, the weight of duty and the agony of betrayal bore down upon Alexander's shoulders like a crushing weight. Despite the love he once held for Serena, he knew that his allegiance lay with his country and his people, and he could not allow sentiment to cloud his judgment on the battlefield.

As Serena pressed her attack with a ferocity born of bitterness and resentment, Alexander's resolve hardened, his grip on his sword tightening with determination. With a heavy heart and a silent prayer for forgiveness upon his lips, he raised his blade and struck out with a swift and decisive blow.

The sound of metal meeting flesh reverberated through the air, drowning out the cries of battle as Serena fell to the ground, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. In that moment, the weight of Alexander's actions crashed down upon him like a tidal wave, leaving him gasping for breath as he stared down at the fallen warrior at his feet.

Grief and remorse washed over Alexander like a torrential downpour, threatening to consume him from within as he beheld the consequences of his actions. Though he knew that he had done what was necessary to protect his country and his people, the guilt of taking the life of the woman he once loved weighed heavily upon his soul.

As the battle raged on around him, Alexander knelt beside Serena's lifeless form, his heart heavy with sorrow as he whispered a prayer for her soul to find peace in the afterlife. And as he rose to his feet and returned to the fray, his mind haunted by the memory of the woman he had slain, he knew that the scars of war would never truly heal, leaving him forever haunted by the choices he had made on the battlefield.

After a grueling battle that tested the resolve of every warrior on the field, Alexander and his army emerged victorious, their triumph a testament to their courage and determination. As they made their triumphant return home, the streets echoed with the jubilant cheers of the people, their voices raised in celebration of the heroes who had defended their land against the forces of darkness.

For Alexander, the victory was bittersweet, overshadowed by the memory of the fallen and the weight of the choices he had made on the battlefield. Though he had emerged victorious, the scars of war ran deep, leaving him haunted by the ghosts of those he had lost and the deeds he had done in the name of duty.

As he made his way through the streets of his homeland, Alexander was greeted with adulation and praise, his name spoken with reverence by all who beheld him. Yet amidst the cheers and applause, he could not shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at his soul, a reminder of the sacrifices he had made in the name of victory.

But as he stood upon the battlements of his castle, surveying the land he had fought so hard to protect, Alexander felt a glimmer of hope stir within him. Though the scars of war would never fully heal, he knew that with time and perseverance, his people would rebuild and thrive once more, their spirit unbroken by the trials they had endured.

And as he looked to the horizon, towards a future filled with promise and possibility, Alexander vowed to honor the memory of those who had fallen in battle, to ensure that their sacrifices would never be forgotten. For though the road ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, he knew that as long as he had the courage to stand and fight, his kingdom would endure, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of the world.

As Alexander returned to the arms of Isabella, he found solace in her embrace, her love a beacon of light amidst the darkness that had engulfed his soul. With each passing moment, he felt the weight of his burdens lift from his shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment that he had not known in years.

But as they stood together, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, Alexander knew that there were still wounds that had yet to heal, scars that ran deep within his heart. And so, with a heavy heart and a voice filled with sorrow, he turned to Isabella and spoke of the sacrifices that had been made in the name of their love.

"Isabella," he began, his voice trembling with emotion, "the victory we have achieved came at a great cost, a cost that I fear we may never fully comprehend. Serena's sacrifice cannot be in vain, and yet... I cannot shake the feeling that her death weighs heavily upon my soul, a reminder of the choices I have made and the lives that have been lost in the name of duty."

Isabella listened to his words with a tender understanding, her eyes filled with compassion as she reached out to him, her touch a soothing balm upon his troubled heart. "Alexander," she whispered, her voice a gentle melody that washed over him like a healing tide, "you have fought bravely and with honor, and though the road ahead may be fraught with challenges, know that you do not walk it alone. Together, we will face whatever trials may come, and emerge stronger for having done so."

With Isabella's words ringing in his ears, Alexander felt a sense of clarity wash over him like a cleansing tide. Though his sense of duty weighed heavily upon his soul, he knew that with Isabella by his side, he could face whatever challenges lay ahead with courage and determination.

And so, with Aphrodite and Hermes watching from afar, Alexander made his choice, his sense of duty guiding him as he vowed to stay by Isabella's side forevermore. For though the scars of war would never fully heal, he knew that as long as he had her love to sustain him, he could weather any storm that came his way. And so, hand in hand, they walked into the future together, their hearts united in a bond that would withstand the test of time.

As the stars glittered overhead, casting their ethereal glow upon the world below, Hermes and Aphrodite stood side by side, reflecting on the events that had unfolded in the mortal realm.

"Hermes," Aphrodite began, her voice soft with melancholy, "though our intervention in the affairs of mortals has brought both joy and sorrow, I cannot help but feel a sense of pride in what we have accomplished. Despite the trials and tribulations they faced, love prevailed in the end, guiding Alexander and Isabella towards a future filled with hope and promise."

Hermes nodded in agreement, his gaze lingering on the constellation of stars that adorned the night sky. "Indeed, my lady," he replied, his tone tinged with admiration, "your wisdom and foresight have guided them well, leading them to find solace and redemption amidst the chaos of war. Without your guidance, they may have faltered, lost amidst the tumult of their own emotions."

But as he spoke, Hermes' expression grew solemn, a shadow of regret clouding his features. "And yet," he continued, "it was I who suggested casting the spell on Serena, a decision that ultimately led to her downfall. Though her sacrifice was noble and selfless, I cannot help but feel a sense of responsibility for the role I played in her fate."

Aphrodite placed a gentle hand upon Hermes' shoulder, her touch a comforting reminder of their shared bond. "Do not dwell on the past, Hermes," she urged, her voice filled with compassion. "Serena's sacrifice was not in vain, and though her journey may have ended in tragedy, her memory will live on in the hearts of those she touched."

With a solemn nod, Hermes and Aphrodite turned their gaze towards the heavens, where a new constellation twinkled brightly amidst the sea of stars. "Let us honor Serena's memory with a place among the stars," Aphrodite suggested, her voice reverent. "A place for her to rest after the ultimate sacrifice, a beacon of light to guide lost souls home."

And so, together, they fashioned a new constellation in the heavens, its brilliance a testament to the bravery and sacrifice of Serena, a fallen warrior whose memory would forever shine bright in the tapestry of the cosmos.

[toxycodone]

I WANNA SUCK FALIN OFF SO BAD BRO ITS SO OVER IM DOWN HORRENDOUS FOR THAT WOMAN uwu kawaii desu!! so sugoi!!!!!!!

I drew falin :3 https://postimg.cc/f31hjn5k

IRS NIT A WEIRD LINK TRUST☹️☹️😓😓😓

ITS WHER YU LIKE UHHH PUT PICS IN IT N IT MAKES IT INTK A LINK THIMGY SO ANONS USW IT IF YHEY WANNA SEND PICS BUT STILL DONT WANNA UHHHHHH REVEAL TGEMSELVES!!!!!!

-🌸 nonnie!!!! (*´∇｀)ﾉ

Sakura nonnie!!!! Hello omg!!! It’s nice to hear from you!! I hope you’re good

ALSO I TOTALLY UNDERSTSND YOU BRO IM SO DOWN BAD FOR LAIOS. We are both like. Kindred spirits okay. Like. We are crushing on the most autistic ass blondes. God. I’m praying for us. But yeah. Just know I’m in your Touden simping support club.

AND THAT FALIN YOU DREW IS ADORABLE OH MY GOD??? I LOVE HER FACE WAAAAAAH SHES SO CUTE IM GONNA IMPLODE. YOUR ART….ADORABLE. LOVE.

and thank you for your well wishes :-3 I think it was just heat exhaustion but I’m going a lot better now! I’m still like. On the mends but I’m okay. (😳 ur sucking my ask….omg….)

[mothpawbs]

I posted 4,026 times in 2022

That's 1,826 more posts than 2021!

241 posts created (6%)

3,785 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@corvidcall

@shirtshawaiian

@ruthlesslistener

@triangleguy

@bulkhummus

I tagged 3,519 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#batman - 249 posts

#music - 236 posts

#gotham - 201 posts

#moth mumbles - 172 posts

#lgbt - 170 posts

#oswald cobblepot - 164 posts

#the penguin - 163 posts

#edward nygma - 149 posts

#the riddler - 148 posts

#video - 132 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i don't have strong opinions on them bc i got tired of seeing their posts about 2 years ago and have a content filter set up for their blog

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Squirrelcrow, anyone?

Idk what it is lately, but I've been absolutely devouring New Prophecy-era crack ship content and I really like Squirrelcrow. It's cute in a dumb way XD

Please do not use my art anywhere without my permission, reblogs are appreciated!

183 notes - Posted March 5, 2022

#4

finished up this thing that's been sitting in my wips folder all week, here's how I headcanon/simplify the tribes in wings of fire! click for high quality <3

216 notes - Posted November 3, 2022

#3

Made this a week or so ago and forgot to post it, there's this post I can't find about reasons op would like a song? And this stemmed from that. Every song I have liked on spotify fits into one of these categories istg

254 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

#2

Took a break from playing Hollow Knight by... drawing Hollow Knight characters. I swear this game hasn't taken over my life

I'm lying haha

Anyways, pictured here we have:

1. Monomon! I wanted to try drawing her in my style, she's quite pretty and I really like her

2. Quirrel and Lemm! QUIRREL MY BELOVED, I rotate him in my brain constantly I ADORE him, and Lemm is just a grumpy lil guy! I like him a lot XD. I've been reading Stag Beetles and Broken Legs for the past couple of days and it's making me Feel Things,,, them. That is all.

3. I had some empty space so I drew Flick because they're cute,,, if I ever end up hacking my switch and installing Atmosphere, the first thing I'm doing is creating a Flick sprite pack. I also drew an aspid hunter because... listen they are certainly infuriating but they're SO cute. If Flick ever had a pet, it would be a little semi-tamed aspid to help them with their hunting. They'd probably look at one and see a kindred spirit.

4. SIBLING STACK SIBLING STACK SIBLING STACK SIBLING STACK SIBLING STACK!!!

272 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I feel like you people are the kind of crowd to appreciate this, so take this comic I saw in a newspaper the other day

1,781 notes - Posted April 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[fullfrontalartistry]

First, I want to say that most surrealism that I see from contemporary artists is in the collage space. It's such a natural medium for exploring the concept.

For this particular piece, it is immediately striking. my brain starts picking out so many symbols to try and interpret that it has me coming back multiple times to see what else is there. What new meanings I can squeeze from the stone.

The key to this, I think, is the little details.

The way the sweater piece is behind the 'window' frame but the head leaves reach in front of it, so it gives the figure a forward lean.

The nearly identical matching of the foreground moth to the sweater, the matching of the inner moth's little pink triangle to the leaves.

The crossed arms

the shadow of the moth

the unified and very well controlled color scheme

I could sit here all day and throw little narratives at this piece but I'll toss out a few quick ones just as a demonstration.

I see the moth recognizing itself in the colors of the sweater. Someone seeing a kindred spirit. "you are a creature drawn to your own color and I am the same creature, in kind, drawn to your color." Yet, for some reason, they are pulled away.

I see the outside entity leaning in, suspicious of the inside moth, they are examining it. It's a facade, the way the outside figure is a moth/plant in human clothing, the hand is a person trying to present as a moth to the outside figure.

Plants use color to attract pollinators, we see this in real life. Perhaps this plant drew in the pink moth and is trying to do the same by dressing itself in a color to draw in the green moth. The hand helps the inside moth resist this temptation. Pollination, often correlated to sex, as a temptation rather than a mutually beneficial act, might be seen here as lust or addiction and the hand as a supporter who helps the moth stay straight

I see the moth being 'held back' by the hand as it reaches forward to the being outside the window; a figure that, perhaps, represents a love. There's a frustration. The outside moth is upset because the one inside won't come out but they don't see the restraining hand.

You get the idea, I could do this all day. It's a very rich work with so many different ways to interpret the motions of the subjects. The postures all have multiple meanings (crossed arms+leaning in can be angry, curious, doubtful, casual, and more ¦¦ the moth's upheld arm could be seen as a 'stop' signal or as a 'reaching' motion. Or waving, just saying hi ¦¦ the hand could be offering the moth or pulling it back, or maybe just helping it see out the window). The colors practically beg us to draw connections between the subjects and their surroundings.

What I find so compelling about surreal artistry is how I can sit and create these narratives and there's never a correct answer or an ending. They are all true in the moment I create them and the artist's vision is usually unreachable.

It's an excellent piece and I highly recommend perusing the creations of this particular artist if you enjoy striking scenes that beg you to interpret them or if you just like to behold surreal art.

Wallace Polsom, Strange Attractor IV (2023), paper collage, 21 x 31.8 cm.

[homeformyheart]

oc: nora mcconnell (she/her)

RO/series: nick wiseman from mind blind (by @mindblindbard)

nora mcconnell doesn't do relationships - of any kind. the only exception to that rule happens to be button, an unlikely kindred spirit for the low-level empath with suppressed and unwanted ment abilities.

after all - if you don't let people in, then they can't leave you behind, can they?

thank you to the amazing @porcelean-art for drawing my baby Nora! I really enjoyed working with you and absolutely love how you drew her. Please commission them if you get the chance!

*reblog, don’t repost or reuse for your own oc(s).

background version and some facts about Nora under the cut!

Nora McConnell (she/her), age 28

5'6", bisexual

Scorpio Sun / Virgo Moon

Personal trainer + skilled in martial arts and physical combat

Has had to be self-sufficient and lived on her own since she was 16

Has a maximum 3-date rule with people who seem genuinely nice - she ends things before there's a chance for serious feelings to develop

Prefers to hook up with overly cocky people who she won't care if she never sees them again

(1) thing she hates: Crowds. She gets claustrophobic/agoraphobic in small spaces filled with people

(1) thing she loves: Stargazing. Will always watch space documentaries

[ga-yuu]

Killer Reality Show #April Fools Day Special

Something they did for April fools' days, again!

All the 13 male leads are in Kamakura Shogunate for some reason and are fighting for your love-----

Let's see what our candidates have to share about the fun show.

Candidates list:

No. 1: Minamoto no Yoritomo

Yoritomo: "I think the most memorable competition for me was the 'Battleship'. A game where we're divided into pairs and each pair have to compete with each other on separate boats and the one who manages to sink the other person's boat wins. What? Who was I paired with, you ask!? Who else, Yoshitsune, of course. He looked kinda happy too."

No. 2: Kajiwara Kagetoki

"Martial arts, music etc...there were many exciting categories. But the knowledge-based competition was a walk in the park for me. Although I was stunned to see Morinaga, who was seated next to me, scribbling something on his answer sheet, Yoritomo-sama saw that and laughed out loud. Thanks to that he got distracted so it was a win-win situation for me."

No. 3: Adachi Morinaga

"As a sign of masculinity, we decided to compete in camping skills such as building ships, fishing, making campfire...etc. Then a storm came, we scattered and took shelter and I bumped into Sueharu in a cave. I said "I knew we were kindred spirits" and he got very angry."

No 4: Taira no Shigehira

"We also competed in a drawing competition. Yeah, we all drew her portrait. Well...I think I did quite a good job, but then Yoichi-san was smirking at me for no reason. Frustratingly, when asked what he wanted? he said "All your embarrassing feelings in your heart are expressed well in your drawing. Also, stop making that face."

No. 5: Minamoto no Yoshitsune

"I saw Yoritomo planning on inviting her on a date just to tease her. When I consulted this issue with his Majesty, he suggested that I should finish him in the dark. But that is a cowardly move, so sent him a letter in her name. His reply was "Oh, you're inviting me to the beach at night? I see finally you've grown up to make such a bold request." Isn't she already a grown woman?"

No. 6: Mushashibo Benkei

"I was planning to make dinner for her, but all the hungry guys came rushing into the kitchen and I had to prepare dinner for all of them. I knew half of them were just there to sabotage me, but I let them off the hook since the dinner party was fun."

No. 7: Nasu no Yoichi

"Another competition was where we had to send love letters to her using bows and arrows....I mean, why can't we give it to her just like that? Also, I peeked at Yasuchika-dono's letter and it had some kinds of complicated letters and spells written in them. It's creepy but nothing less expected from a creepy Onmyoji."

No. 8: Tamamo

"Don't tell this to anyone, but I'm actually planning on recording everyone's sleeping posture the day after tomorrow. Everyone's hilarious sleeping pattern will make up for a good embarrassing bedtime story discussion. I'm most curious about Benkei, though. Am I the only one who wants to see the unexpected side of a man with a one-track mind?"

No. 9: Kurama

"I bought the sake which I robbed from the Kamakura's brewery to Tamamo's room, so we both could have a drinking contest. Ibuki barged in out of nowhere without the care in the world, so I tried to fight him off. But for some reason, I was kicked out as well. Tamamo told me not to disturb and closed the door....I don't understand at all!"

No. 10: Abe no Yasuchika

"I was busy setting traps for everyone with my oh-so-awesome Onmyoji magic, but Kage-san caught me and I got into big trouble. The Shogunate really is scary! For now, I won't tell anyone that I created hot springs in the garden...."

No. 11: Kitsuji Sueharu

"The gathering of eccentric peoples and demons went on all night till morning and the laughter never died. What? No no, we didn't forget about the competition. Also, don't tell anyone, I paid the judges for...you know what!"

No. 12: Ibuki

"There is this dog named Azukichi or something that ate all the cat food I put in the yard this morning. I had no choice but to pet him instead, but it's not the same as petting a cat. The softness is different. Then from the corner of my eye, I saw Shigehira glaring at me enviously....what's up with him?"

No. 13: Sutokuin/Akihito

"Kurama went on a rampage and destroyed the Imperial palace so, we all gathered our beds and slept in the main hall. What did we talk about? Well, we were all talking about something but then the topic changed to a talk about our favorite girl. Of course, everyone got jealous of each other and we had a fun pillow fight."

Next up is rare footage of the competition starring: Morinaga, Shigehira, Ibuki, and Sueharu.

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I wrote this months ago and let it sit on the shelf. I’m finally ready to dust it off and give it another go...so let’s see what it do...

Part iii - Trifecta

Torren Sykes hadn’t lived what anyone would consider an exciting life. In fact, in her twenty-three years, she had only just left her mom’s double-wide trailer in East Bumble Fuck less than a year ago. Not quite 365 days later, she still didn’t have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of.

Truthfully, she usually didn’t know where she would be getting her next meal - that sort of thing wasn’t really a big deal to her. She actually liked the mystery of it all. There was something undeniably sexy about not knowing what the day would bring - who she would run into, or have to take something off of to survive. If someone else had to get hurt so she could make it through another day, such was life. She’d won. Those other people just needed to be better at playing the fucking game, plain and simple. 

Besides, pulling a caper or two kept her on her toes. She learned how to pull off the best of them from her mother. It’s not like adulting was one of Leslie’s strong suits. 

If only her mother had been more like her Me-Maw, now that woman was a saint. For reasons that Torren never cared to ask, she lived with her Me-Maw until she was five years old.  Leslie would periodically visit her to drop off the obligatory present on Christmas or her birthday if that bitch remembered. Not that they were ever good presents – just some cheap ass, unwrapped items she happened to pick up at the dollar store. Torren couldn't remember a gift that she had received wasn't still in the plastic bag with the receipt in it.

Cheap, whore.

Just once she would have liked a real baby doll from Toys-R-Us, instead of those cheap, hard, plastic dolls that the hand molds weren't cut out evenly, and the jagged edges cut the shit out of her face when she tried to sleep with it. But, that was Leslie. Torren didn't choose her; Leslie sure as shit didn't choose her daughter.

It became painfully clear to Torren that her mother didn’t want anything to do with her after her Me-Maw died. Unfortunately, she found herself as her mother’s unwitting roommate at a very young age, forcing the girl to spend a lot of time alone. 

By the time she turned nine, Torren was convinced that her mother was a prostitute and she was a trick baby. It was the only explanation she could come up with seeing as how her mother never worked but always had enough money to pay the rent, keep the lights on, and have plenty of booze, chips, and hot dogs in the fridge. 

Not that Torren had many other life experiences with a working parent to compare her situation to, but it just seemed pretty fucking difficult to have a job if one were passed out drunk all the fucking time. Besides, who had time to work when during your waking hours you were spending them with one of your many, many boyfriends? 

Torren used to wonder if one of the multitudes of men that would traipse in and out of that trailer were her father - but the more she got to know what type of person Leslie was, the more she realized that whoever that guy was, had gotten the hell out of dodge. 

Lucky son-of-a-bitch. 

But for all of Leslie’s flaws, she did manage to impart her three philosophies of life onto her daughter - the three things that Torren still lived by to this day. It was the least she could do. God knows that whore sure as fuck didn’t do anything else for her.

Mama’s Life Lessons #1 - There is no such thing as too much black eyeliner

As trivial as it sounded, it proved to be a precious lesson. Shortly after she had moved into the trailer, Leslie had forced Torren to sit on the bed and watch as she got ready for another one of her "dates". She had told the little girl that beautiful eyes were the one good gene that ran in their family. “You got to learn how to work ‘em,” Leslie exhaled a long plume of smoke at her reflection in the vanity mirror, “You listenin'? This's important. This right here," she held up the black liner pencil, “is gonna be your best friend.”

Of course, Torren had no idea what she meant. How was a pencil going to her friend? She didn’t really care so much as what her mother was saying to her at the moment, it was more of the fact that she was actually talking to her that made Torren hang on to every word. 

That’s why she picked up the black liner pencil from her mother's cluttered vanity table and leaned over to look in the mirror. She tried tracing her bottom lid, the way her mother had done, but at six it was a little easier said than done. She had just learned how to color inside the lines with a fat crayon; mastering the art of applying liner would have to wait a few more years. 

Leslie, however, was not willing to wait that long, "What the hell's amatta wit'chu, Dumbass? You doin' it all wrong," she said snatching the pencil from the girl's hand. Grabbing Torren roughly by the chin she said, "Gotta teach you every goddamn thing. Hold still." She mumbled more curses and said something about her good-for-nothing mother not teaching her brat anything useful.

By the time she had finished cursing her name, Leslie roughly turned her daughter's head toward the mirror, "Yeah you got those eyes. Now, learn to use ‘em.” Leslie dropped the pencil onto the vanity before picking up her drink and shooing Torren away. 

That was the day that Drew Watkins bought her an ice cream. It had to be the eyeliner. It was a true fact, not just another one of her mother's drunken theories. Eyeliner and her eyes...she didn’t know how she used them, but they worked.

From that day on Torren opted to never step foot outside without heavy black liner again. 

Mama’s Life Lessons #2 - As long as there are men around that want to fuck you, you will never need to work

It wasn’t like she going to go out and get a real job. She wasn’t raised with much of a work ethic. She was too young to remember if her Me-Maw worked and what she gathered from her mother was that there would always be men around to take care of her. 

Leslie told her that she didn’t need to work because working a man was a full-time job. If she were doing that right, she wouldn’t have time for a fucking 9-5. It didn’t matter if he was in a relationship, gay, or the fucking Pope. As long as he a dick and she could bend over, and her eyes were done, her rent was as good as paid. 

If she wanted more than just the basic bills paid, she would have to rethink what all she was willing to do - but just make sure she didn’t do too much otherwise she couldn’t guarantee a steady paycheck every week.

This sage advice didn’t make much sense to 8-year-old Torren, but as the years progressed she started to work it into one of her life’s mottos. She would never want for anything. She could always rely on the kindness of strangers and when that got to be too boring, she could always take it, just to spice things up a bit.  

Mama’s Life Lessons #3 - If you want something do whatever it takes to make sure you get it

As a child that grew up with the television as a babysitter, Torren Sykes knew that she was destined to love Ivar “Lothbrok” Ragnarsson since she was a little girl. Ever since that day she turned on the TV and saw this adorable blue-eyed boy drawing Mickey Mouse ears saying, “I’m Ivar Lothbrok and you’re watching the Disney Channel,” she knew that he had to be hers. 

He was co-starring on a show called The Baker Boys, about three foster kids, who had come to live with a family that owned a bakery. Ivar’s character was named Simon Baker - a mischievous kid that lived with his grandmother until she died and never felt like he fit in with this cookie-cutter family. 

His life was just like hers - minus the cookie-cutter family that loved him and all. She was actually with more of an alcoholic whore that didn’t give a shit if she lived or died, and not pulling stunts in a bakery with flour and messing up orders like him, but she still saw them as kindred spirits. 

When the show got canceled she was devastated. How dare the world try to keep her from her man? Didn’t they understand this was love? Didn’t those people at Disneyland know that he was the only person in the world that understood her?

As if on queue, she happened to find the Season 2 DVD box-set at the library one afternoon. Her mother had kicked her out of the trailer because she had a date and couldn’t have the dumbass child around fucking things up for her. Torren had nothing else to do - at 11-years-old, she had no money, and nowhere to go. At least the library was air-conditioned. 

She wanted that box-set. Slipping it into her backpack unnoticed was the easy part. Trying to get it past the alarms would be harder. She watched for a while, paying particular attention to the way the check-out system worked. 

When the librarians changed shifts, she let a smile cross her lips as she picked a few random books from the shelves. 

Her beautiful eyes went as big as saucers when the alarm buzzed, and the young male librarian looked down at her, still clutching the large reference book to her check. Carefully she had stepped across to the other side of the alarm sensor waiting to collect the books she was checking out.

“I’m sorry, you can’t check out reference books,” the young man said, blinking his hazel eyes at Torren, the corner of his lip tugging into a smile.

She let a pout fall on her lips as she lowered her large eyes down to the book in her arms, “Oh...sorry.” She handed the book back, “I didn’t realize I still had it.” And like that, she walked out of the library with her prize.

She had stolen for Ivar...now if that wasn’t love what was?

The only thing that had threatened their love through the years is when Ivar got married. It damn near broke Torren’s heart. How could he be so cruel? She didn’t give a fuck that the marriage was short-lived. She even understood why he had to do it. He had gotten that bitch pregnant, and he didn’t have much choice. But, he cut her deep. 

Didn’t he know how much she loved him? Didn’t he know that she stuck by him when he had joined 6cess and had seen him in concert 3 times? She still had the autographed photo of the two of them from the signing at Spring Hills Mall - when she was wearing that blue midriff cardigan and ripped jeans and he had his arm around her. That shirt brought out the color in his eyes. She even wore Happy, which he said was his favorite perfume. She thought it smelled like Comet, but she stole a bottle of it from Macy’s right before the photo-op to smell good for him. 

And he went and pulled this shit?

Besides, Johnny Law said that she was still too young for him and that he could get arrested for being with her. She knew that he had to pretend to have a normal life so that no one would know about their love affair. She was just understanding like that. It gave her time to grow up a little more so that when they could he be together, the law wouldn't be standing in their way. She really didn't give a fuck, but she suspected he did. Why else hadn't he come for her?

Torren didn’t even like their music. She wasn’t a boyband kind of girl, but for him, she would make the exception. She was more of the gangsta rap or heavy metal type girl. But if Ivar was serenading her, she’d listen to sappy, wrist-slitting, emo, shit rock all fucking day long, because she loved him. 

She hated that he had gotten that whore pregnant, too. She understood that he had to pretend that they had a normal marriage. She knew that when he was fucking that bitch, he was really imagining it was her. The years apart had made him a master at hiding his true feelings for her. He couldn't give anyone cause for suspicion. If he let on the truth he could risk losing everything…his house, cars, job, and his kid. That whore was trying to keep them apart. But, she was just a small obstacle that posed no real threat to Torren.

She did not doubt that she would be his daughter's new mommy. The kid would probably be sad at first that she wouldn't be with that other woman like Torren had been when her grandmother died. But, the kid would get used to it. Torren was going to be a whole hell of a lot better at being a mom than her piece of shit mother was to her. That was for damn sure. She was going to teach her stepdaughter all about eyeliner, and how to dye her hair. 

She was going to teach her what party clothes every woman should have in her wardrobe and how to get a man to do whatever she wanted by just batting her eyes at him. She would even share her secrets on what pills to mix and what dosages to give for submission, making a man catatonic, and if she was really good, she'd teach what to put in a drink to kill someone. Hell, she even planned on giving the child her most discrete drug contacts. That would of course have to wait until she was older – at least 13. She was going to be such a good mommy. 

Ivar's daughter was going to love Torren as much as Torren loved him. They were going to be the perfect family.

Torren was as hopelessly devoted to Ivar as he was to her. He had waited for her to become legal. Just months before she was old enough to legally consent to sex, and get married without parental permission, his marriage started falling apart. She knew that Ivar was trying to make a clean break from his wife, and get his daughter used to the idea of them being apart before he could come home to her. 

Torren had been thoughtful and respectful enough to give him that space to make sure everything was right before she stepped into the role of the new Mrs. Lothbrok. He had to test the waters, make sure that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had to get back into the swing of things…have sex constantly to make sure he could keep up with her. She knew that "the prude" wasn't doing it nearly as often as he needed to - why else would he have an Only Fans page?

Torren was the only one that could feed his appetite, and he hers.

Now, they were both finally ready. She was mature and developed. She knew what she needed, and it was him. He had his fun before her, but now he was auditioning again and getting everything back on track for them. He had a great relationship with his daughter and his dumb ass ex-wife finally understood that their relationship was a fling that went too far.

His face told her everything that her heart already knew. He loved her. 

Why else would be looking at her like that? She could feel herself blush when he smiled on Instagram like that into them. Then he gave her that smile. That was her smile; the one that he reserved for her during their private times. Yet, there he was doing it in front of an audience of millions, and he didn't care who saw it. He had to let her know that it was time for her to come home. It was like a sleeper cell being awakened.

She didn't have a choice. She did what any other woman in her position would do. She packed a bag, threw it in the car she stole a few days before and drove. Armed with her trifecta of knowledge and determination, she prepared to face the obstacles that were bound to get in her way. There was nothing that was going to stop her from getting her man.

Nothing.

Part ii || Part iv

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1​  @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @didiintheblog​ @conaionaru​ @peachyboneless​ @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927​ @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys @didiintheblog​  @revolution-starter​

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Drawn to You

Nejire Hado x Fem Reader A/N: Hello again! I’ve had this done in August so it’s kind of old. I guess one possible warning for this oneshot is mention/ flashback of a bad relationship where the ex was dismissive and cruel with their words. It’s in italics if you want to skip that part. Other than that, I hope you enjoy, Nejire is such a sweetheart!

Quirk: Art-senal (like arsenal but art lol) draws something and makes it come right out of whatever surface that was drawn on! The drawback (hehe) is that carpal tunnel and general nerve pain and numbness of the hands will occur, causing your hands to become immobile after a certain point. ***

When rumors of a transfer student started floating through the class of 3-A, Nejire could not have been more excited. Mirio happily chatted with her, sharing guesses about what their new classmate would be like while Tamaki listened quietly. When their teacher appeared, everyone shot back into their desks and waited for them to introduce the prophesied new student. “Good morning class,” their Sensei greeted warmly. “You are all looking rather excited this morning, so I see that word has moved down the grape vine about the new student joining us,” they directed their attention to the door. “You may come in now.” The rumbling sound of hushed conversation began as the student entered the classroom and Nejire was at the edge of her seat with a billion questions already burning at the tip of her tongue as her eyes took in the new girl as she stood beside the teacher in front of the class. “Introduce yourself to your classmates, please,” the teacher asked, after a few moments of silence. “I’m (Y/n), it’s nice to meet all of you,” (Y/n) answered softly. So softly, Nejire almost didn’t hear her, and she was in the second row closest to the front. “Uh, some people like to say a little about themselves too. Have anything you want to share for the class to get to know you better?” The teacher asked. After a moment's pause, Nejire heard a very quiet “no” fall from (Y/n)’s lips as the girl kept her gaze trained to the floor. “A kindred spirit,” Tamaki mumbled from Nejire’s side.

“Ah, well then, feel free to take that open space in the back and welcome to class 3-A,” the teacher smiled sheepishly. (Y/n) brushed passed Nejire on her way to the back of the class and Nejire smiled sweetly and offered an excited wave. (Y/n) gave a smile in return, though it looked more like a grimace as she made it to the window seat in the back of the room about three more rows directly behind Nejire. As class began, Nejire wished she had a quirk that would give her eyes on the back of her head so she could stare back at (Y/n) and try to learn more about her. Like with any other student she came in close proximity to, she wanted to know everything. Her quirk, her favorite color, where she transferred from, what her family was like, what she likes to eat... really just anything and everything. When the bell finally rang after their fourth class, Nejire practically leapt from her seat and walked over to (Y/n)’s desk. “Hi there! I’m Nejire, nice to meet you,” Nejire greeted the girl as (Y/n) hastily closed her notebook. “Hi,” (Y/n) replied, quietly. “Where did you come from? What’s your quirk? Why did you come to UA? What’s-“ “Whoa there, Nejire!” Mirio laughed. “I think you came on a bit too strong there.” “What do you mean?” Nejire asked, giving him a puzzled look before turning back to the now empty desk. She turned back to the door just in time to see a flash of (h/c) hair disappear around the corner. “Wow, that was fast! Maybe some kind of speed quirk? I need to follow her and ask!” “I think she needs some space Nejire. She’s probably overwhelmed being in a new school with new people and being far away from home... I can only imagine how terrible that would be,” Tamaki shuddered. “Sounds like she could use a few friendly faces to make the transition easier,” Mirio grinned. “She probably went to the cafeteria to get lunch. Let’s see if we can get her to sit with us.” “Great idea, Mirio!” Nejire clapped. “Let’s get going, no time to waste!” The Big Three scanned the cafeteria, but (Y/n) was nowhere to be found. Nejire tried to quell her disappointment as she, Mirio, and Tamaki started eating. She soon regained her usual cheer, offering some food for Tamaki to try with his quirk as Mirio marveled at the possible applications a ramen noodle arm. When they returned to the classroom, (Y/n) was already back in her seat, looking out the window with a dazed look on her face. “Hey, (Y/n)!” Nejire greeted, startling the girl by kneeling in front of her with her arms folded over (Y/n)’s desk. “We were looking for you at lunch. You should totally sit with us tomorrow, it’ll be a lot of fun!” “Um, I don’t know,” (Y/n) mumbled, shifting her eyes nervously. “Hado, get in your seat please, class is starting,” “You got it, Sensei!” Nejire beamed. “Next period is quirk training and we’re sparring today. You should partner up with me,” she quietly told (Y/n) before making her way back to her desk. Nejire couldn’t help but glance back every now and then, flashing the new girl a dazzling smile every time their eyes met. When they made eye contact, (Y/n) would quickly jerk her head down toward her desk and nervously scratch her pencil into her notebook. Nejire wished she could see what she was doing, the movements didn’t seem to match routine note taking and it was fueling her curiosity even further. She just couldn’t wait until quirk training! “Hado! Face forward, please. You are being very distracting,” Sensei chided. “Sorry!” Nejire laughed sheepishly along with most of the class as she faced forward in her chair. She briefly wondered if (Y/n) had laughed too and thought about what it would sound like. Her own smile grew at the thought and she added it to her growing mental list of inquisitions. When class was over, she was held back by her Sensei for a minute for a light scolding. “Just because you are one of the top three students, doesn’t mean that you should be slacking off or distracting others, Hado. Please try to focus during your lessons.” “Sorry, Sensei! I’ll work harder,” Nejire smiled. “I better get to quirk training now or someone will snatch up my partner, bye!” Before her Sensei could object, Nejire darted out of the room and headed towards the locker rooms. She quickly navigated the space and weaved through the other girls changing their clothes to where (Y/n) was changing in the furthest corner. “There you are!” She cheered, causing (Y/n) to jump and quickly finish pulling her workout uniform top over her head. “I’m so excited to see your quirk! This is going to be so much fun!” Nejire continued to speak as she began changing into her own workout sweats. When she finished pulling her shirt over her head, (Y/n) was no longer in front of her. She swiveled her head and watched her scurry toward the exit. “Wait for me, (Y/n)!” Nejire called, adjusting her sweatpants as she skipped over to the fleeing girl. “You sure move fast. Is it part of your quirk?” She asked, poking (Y/n) in the back. “No, it’s not,” (Y/n) mumbled as they walked into the gym, thumbing over the pages of her notebook anxiously. “Hm? Why did you bring a notebook? Taking notes? How will you find time to do that while sparring? Are you sure you don’t have a speed quirk?” She asked tugging at (Y/n)’s sleeve. “I... the notebook is for my quirk-“ (Y/n) answered before Nejire invaded her personal space further, getting very close to her face. “Really? What do you use it for? Tell me!” Nejire demanded, bouncing on her heels and nearly knocking heads with (Y/n)’s. “I draw things,” the girl squeaked, taking several steps back from Nejire to no avail as the girl simply closed the distance without a second thought, her eyes blazing with an inquisitive fire that longed to be fed more fuel. “You draw and then what happens?” Nejire continued, matching each step (Y/n) took back with one of her own going forward until (Y/n) hit a wall on the other side of the training grounds and was quite effectively pinned. “I, um, swipe at the drawing and, uh, it’s like a replica of whatever I drew,”(Y/n) replied, her eyes shifting to look anywhere but the eyes of Nejire boring into her face, absorbing every word that left her lips. “Sounds neat! Will you show me? Like, before we spar? I want to see!” (Y/n)’s voice seemed to give out from all the attention Nejire was giving her so she simply nodded. Her hands shook as she flipped to a clean page and penciled in a quick sketch of an oak tree with a practiced hand. Nejire watched with rapt attention as (Y/n)’s fingers ran over the drawing and swiped outward, launching the sketch off of the page. Nejire grinned, watching the tree take shape and tower over them. It almost looked real, but there was a sculpted look to it that made it look like something right out of a fantasy novel. She looked back to (Y/n) and tugged on her sleeve. “That’s beautiful, (Y/n)! What a fun quirk! My quirk is Wave Motion, it looks like this,” Nejire released a spiral wave of energy from her hand and they watched it flow forward until it eventually died out. “Pretty cool, right? My waves may be slow, but they’re super strong,” Nejire explained. “Girls, please, I don’t mind a little constructive discussion, but do some actual sparring as well,” “We’ll get started now, sorry!” Nejire waved off the disgruntled teacher before turning back to (Y/n) with renewed vigor. “Okay (Y/n), time to show me what you’ve got!” (Y/n)’s hands shook a bit as she brought her battered notebook to her chest. A nervous sweat gathered at her brow as she watched Nejire drop into a fighting stance. Luckily, her previous training didn’t fail her and she quickly dodged Nejire’s kick in her direction. (Y/n) drew a brick wall to hide herself momentarily from Nejire’s sight. It was quickly destroyed however, by Nejire’s spiraling energy quirk. (Y/n) tumbled out of the way, quickly sketching a barrage of sparrows, the lack of detail causing them to look more like flying scribbles as they broke apart upon impact with Nejire’s swinging arms. It was enough of a distraction to allow (Y/n) to take cover behind the tree she had made only minutes before and she quickly got to work on a clone to further distract Nejire. (Y/n) could already feel her fingers begin to numb from so many consecutive drawings so she needed a bit of time to recoup. She sent out her self-portrait and watched as the mindless double ran awkwardly away. The “people” were always weird, sure they looked human enough, but the mannerisms were always off and any attempt at speech sounded like a garbled mess of nonsense. They were best suited as decoys more than anything. The clone did its job, Nejire ran after it, aiming a few wave blasts at it as she trailed behind and quickly started gaining ground. (Y/n) took the time she bought herself to stretch her wrists and fingers, trying to combat the numbness and aching settling in her hands. She was so preoccupied that she failed to notice the figure hovering over her with the help of swirls of energy gathered at their feet. “Boo!” “Ah!” (Y/n) was tackled to the ground by Nejire. Her notebook was knocked from her hands as Nejire’s hands forced her arms up over her head and Nejire laughed victoriously. “I got you! Nice try with that clone deception but it got kind of droopy and fell apart quickly. You need to be pretty quick and stealthy to use your quirk, huh? Can you make drawings in advance or do they need to be fresh? I think if you had things queued up it would be very useful!” Nejire spoke excitedly, her body still straddled over (Y/n)’s as she chattered away. “Can you get off, please?” (Y/n) mumbled, trying to create some semblance of space between herself and Nejire. “Oh right, I should do that shouldn’t I? Wouldn’t want Sensei to think we’re slacking off,” Nejire smiled. She stood and pulled (Y/n) up with her before kneeling momentarily to retrieve (Y/n)’s notebook from the ground. (Y/n) almost had a heart attack when Nejire began casually flipping through the pages. “Please don’t look in there,” (Y/n) quickly asked, pulling the pages out of Nejire’s hands so fast the other girl almost didn’t register it leaving her grasp. “Hm? Come on (Y/n), let me see!” Nejire giggled, playfully pawing at (Y/n)’s hands that tightly gripped her notebook. By the grace of All Might, the bell rang and (Y/n) ran to the locker room, but with Nejire hot on her heels. “Hey, wait up, (Y/n)! Tell me more about the intricacies of your quirk!” (Y/n) ignored her and made her way into the locker room, changing quickly back into her uniform as Nejire babbled beside her completely unaware of the affect she was having on the transfer student. “Hey, hey, (Y/n)? Are you doing anything after school? I have today off from my work study and we could totally hang out and I’ll show you around!” Nejire asked, casually threading her arm through one of (Y/n)’s as they exited the locker room dressed in their uniforms. “Mirio won’t be able to come, but I bet I could convince Tamaki to come along. What do you think, (Y/n)?” (Y/n) shuddered and tried to discreetly pull herself out of Nejire’s grip but the girl with the powder blue hair persisted with her hold. (Y/n)’s gaze shifted uncomfortably between Nejire and the ground beneath their feet as they made their way back to their classroom. “I don’t know, I was going to continue to unpack and settle into my room,” she finally answered after a bit of deliberation. “Oh! Well, I could help with that,” Nejire said, unperturbed. “Tamaki would probably prefer staying in the dorms anyway. Besides, it’ll be easier to talk without any added distractions,” “You really don’t need to help me,” (Y/n) added. “I usually work better by myself.” “It would be no trouble at all! We could order some take out too. I know a great place that does delivery,” (Y/n) felt her eye twitch. She had only been at UA a day. What had she even done to garner such attention? The only reason she transferred was to get some space after breaking up with her ex and with this girl, space seemed like the last thing she was going to get. It also didn’t help that (Y/n) found the girl to be extremely attractive and left her absolutely tongue tied. (Y/n) was honestly surprised Nejire hadn’t given up on her yet, she hadn’t exactly been friendly or sociable. “So?” (Y/n) was jolted from her thoughts as Nejire gently nudged her elbow into (Y/n)’s side. “What do you think?” Ah, what the hell? “Alright,” (Y/n) sighed, flinching when Nejire cheered and hugged her tightly. “We are going to have so much fun! I can’t wait!” Nejire hummed, pulling (Y/n) back into the classroom. “Yeah, can’t wait...” *** (Y/n) couldn’t escape Nejire even if she tried, and she did try. At the end of the day, Nejire practically flew to her side with her bag packed and ready to head to the dorms. “Lead the way, (Y/n). Ready for the most awesome sleepover ever?” Nejire grinned. “Sleepover?” (Y/n) questioned. “Oh! Good luck with Nighteye’s patrol tonight, Mirio!” Nejire waved, seemingly too distracted to answer to (Y/n)’s confusion. “Say hi to Fat Gum for me, Tamaki!” “I wasn’t even supposed to be in today,” Tamaki sighed. “Something serious must have come up, nothing good can come from this.” “Don’t worry, Tamaki! You’ll do great like always!” Mirio smiled, patting his friend warmly on the back, making a small smile form on Tamaki’s lips. “See ya tomorrow Nejire, (Y/n), have fun tonight!” “Will do!” Nejire cheered, flashing a thumbs up before dragging (Y/n) out of the school and veered off into the direction of the third year dorms. “Oh yeah, I was going to let you lead, wasn’t I?” Nejire giggled. “You did say that. You also said something about a sleepover?” (Y/n) reminded, hoping to gain some clarity into the situation. “Mhmm, it just makes sense. The boys are at their work studies so it’s a great time for a girl’s night,” “But, don’t you think we need to know each other a bit better before having a sleepover?” “But that’s what the sleepover is for, (Y/n), to get to know you better! Now come on, we’re wasting daylight!” “But it’s a school night,” (Y/n) whined, grasping at yet another excuse to give her a moment of peace. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay up too late. A good night’s sleep is important after all,” (Y/n) rolled her eyes and rubbed one of her temples, watching Nejire skip ahead to open the main door and usher her inside. She hadn’t transferred here to make friends, she transferred to be alone, to be left in peace in a place where no one knew her. To try to get over her breakup and move on with her life and with it all still fresh in her mind, she really didn’t want to be with this intrusive, albeit sweet, girl. “(Y/n)! Our rooms are in the same hallway,“ Nejire clapped. “How convenient!” She smiled, tapping a door a few meters away on the other side of the hall from where (Y/n) was standing. “I suppose it is,” (Y/n) grimaced, unlocking her own door and flicking on the light. “Oooo,” Nejire rested her chin on (Y/n)’s shoulder, causing the girl to freeze up a bit. “A bit cluttered, isn’t it? You didn’t have much time to get settled in after all. Good thing I’m here to help!” “Mhmm,” (Y/n) hummed distractedly, moving over to the closet to finish hanging up her clothes that she had left on the bed earlier that morning. She quickly fell into a rhythm, listening to each clack of the hangers as they hit the metal bar. “So, where should this go?” Nejire asked, suddenly appearing beside (Y/n) with a folded wooden structure in her hands. “Oh, be careful with that, it belonged to my grandmother. Just put it in the corner closest to the window please,” “What is it?” “An easel. You know, for holding up canvases for painting and such,” (Y/n) replied, gesturing with one hand as her mind tried to put her thoughts in a coherent sentence. “Neat! I couldn’t tell with it all folded up like this,” Nejire said, placing the wooden structure in the corner. “How about these plastic bins, wow! Is this all paint!?” (Y/n) turned and scratched sheepishly at the nape of her neck. “Yeah, I kind of have a bad habit of buying art supplies when...” I’m sad “When I don’t necessarily need them,” she finished after a brief pause. “Do you paint a lot? Did you bring any of your paintings here? Can you show me?” Nejire bounced, scanning around the pile of belongings hopefully. “I brought a couple small ones to hang, they’re in that blue portfolio case,” (Y/n) informed. Nejire scooped up the case and carefully slid out the first thin canvas. The painting was a lovely fall scene where the trees were alight with fiery orange and red leaves with dashes of yellow. The earth below the trees was a rich brown dashed with occasional bursts of color from fallen leaves. Winding through the wood was a babbling stream, water was twisting and weaving with the rocks that were caked in wet leaves and highlighted where the sun peeked through the trees, the beautiful blue water contrasted the scenery in a way that Nejire found absolutely enchanting. “This is amazing, (Y/n)!” Nejire praised, causing (Y/n) to turn and continue to fidget with the clothes she was hanging. “Can your quirk work on these?” She asked as she pulled the other canvases out of the portfolio and appraised every detail. “Mmm, possibly. I can use any medium with my quirk, but I’ve not quite gotten the hang of putting such detailed works into reality. They usually melt away and leave a big mess,” “Do you think I could watch you paint sometime?” (Y/n) was rather surprised that Nejire had asked. “You would really be interested in that? It’s kind of a long process... I’ve been told it’s actually pretty boring,” “Hm? No way, I’d totally be down to watch! I know I may seem a bit antsy, but I know how to entertain myself,” Nejire said, setting up some command strips to hang the art from. “Who told you that painting was boring anyway?” (Y/n) fumbled with her bed sheets as an image of her ex flashed in her mind. She remembered the way their nose would crinkle at the smell of fresh paint. She used to think it was cute, but the memory now left bitter taste in her mouth.

~~~ ‘Just because you have an artsy quirk, it doesn’t mean you need to waste your life on this junk. Come on, let’s actually do something worth our time,’ they smiled as if they hadn’t just said something hurtful. ‘Oh, well, we’ve been going out a lot lately. I actually haven’t been able to paint or draw outside of training for a couple of weeks so I was hoping maybe we could have a night in and we could make dinner or order in, talk, have a show on while I paint-‘ (Y/n) was cut off by a groan as their then partner flopped onto the couch. ‘You know, when I first asked you out I thought I’d find more,’ ‘...What do you mean?’ ‘You’re just so plain, if I had known before that what I see is what I’d get, I probably wouldn’t have bothered,’ (Y/n) felt like hot needles were crawling inside her throat and she gripped her paintbrush tightly. ‘But we’re stuck with each other now, can’t help looking back on the past I suppose,’ they sighed. ‘Guess I’ll text the gang to tell them you flaked again,’ ‘Don’t bother,’ They looked up from their phone, slight surprise morphed into a cocky smugness that made (Y/n)’s head pulse. ‘Ah, I knew you’d come around, babe-“ ‘Tell them I flaked yourself, because I’m not going and I don’t want you here anymore,’ ‘What are you saying?’ They scoffed, rising from the couch. ‘Just a minute ago you were begging for me to stay, now you want me to leave?’ They laughed humorlessly. ‘Is this because I jabbed at you for being boring and predictable? Nice one, you got me. Now put on some shoes, we’ll be late,’ ‘It’s not a joke, take your stuff and leave. I’m done. I’m not going to stand here and let you belittle me anymore!’ (Y/n) proclaimed. ‘You wish you could find something more in me, well, I wish I knew what I was getting into upfront with you so I would have never agreed to go out with you!’ She snapped. ‘Don’t say anything you can’t take back, you’re being crazy-‘ ‘Go!’ (Y/n) threw the brush in her hand, green paint streaked down the ex’s shocked face before the brush slid to the floor. ‘Fine! Have fun being alone the rest of your life, I was the only shot you had and you just blew it!’ They screeched, before turning and stomping out of the room. A few moments later, (Y/n) heard the front door slam shut and she felt like all her energy had been drained from her as she threw herself on the couch. When her guardian got home later that day she asked them where that transfer scholarship for UA was and filled it out with no preamble. Managing to send it out mere hours before the deadline. ~~~ “(Y/n)?” (Y/n) gasped at the sudden pressure of Nejire’s hand on her back. “Yes? Sorry, I was somewhere else I guess,” “No problem, what were you thinking about?” She asked curiously. “Nothing really,” (Y/n) shook her head, “Want to help me set up the tv?” “Are you kidding? Did you forget that I’m here to help you? Of course I’ll help!” *** At some point Nejire found the time to order the take out and the two ate while making a few finishing touches to the room. Light music weaves through the space, often broken by Nejire making comments or asking questions and (Y/n) found herself not minding at all, answering all of the inquiries honestly. Once everything was in place, Nejire darted out of the room to change clothes for the night while (Y/n) tried to find something to watch on tv. “I’m baaaaaack!” Nejire sang, jumping into the bed and causing a ripple effect that nearly caused (Y/n) to slip off of her perch on the edge of the bed. “Ooo! How it’s Made is on, can we watch How it’s Made?” “Sure,” (Y/n) affirmed, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. They settled in under the covers and Nejire talked over the show, adding her own commentary and questions she longed to be answered about the intricacies of making ketchup. (Y/n) found herself not minding, however. In fact, she found it rather entertaining, endearing even. She never expected to share her space with a virtual stranger, much less her bed. (Y/n) had to commend Nejire for her persistence as she wondered to herself just how long Nejire would stick around. Just as her eyes drifted shut, they opened in a flash as her cellphone began to ring on the bedside table. “Who’s calling you? Family? Friend?” Nejire asked through a yawn, apparently she was only moments from sleep as well. The way she was curled up in her own hair at (Y/n)’s side practically in a cocoon of her own design was incredibly cute. “Sorry, I’ll take care of it,” (Y/n) sighed and reached for the phone. All sense of tiredness left as soon as she registered who was calling her and in a panic she declined the call and tossed her phone back on the bedside table. “Why didn’t you answer it? Who was it, wrong number?” Nejire asked, shifting closer. “Wrong number,” (Y/n) answered quickly before laying back down. It could have almost been left at that, except the phone started ringing again. “They don’t seem to think so,” Nejire observed. (Y/n) turned on her side and reached for the phone and once more declined the call, only to immediately receive a third call. This time, Nejire reached over (Y/n) and took the phone herself. “Hello, may I ask who is calling?” Nejire yawned again, resting her head on (Y/n)’s shoulder. (Y/n) laid there absolutely dumbstruck, listening to Nejire’s side of the conversation she was having with (Y/n)’s ex. “Who am I? I’m Hado. It’s rather late, (Y/n) and I are trying to sleep. You want to talk to (Y/n)? Well, she doesn’t seem to want to talk to you. Do you know why that may be?” “I don’t know, I’ve only known (Y/n) for a day, but I’m sure she has perfectly acceptable reasons for not wanting to speak with you,” “No need to be so rude. If this is how you conduct yourself it’s no wonder (Y/n) broke up with you,” “Hey, do us a favor and don’t call back, okay?” Nejire replied sweetly to whatever retort the ex fired at her before hanging up and putting the phone back down. Then she snuggled back into (Y/n) and sighed pleasantly, seemingly content even after the phone call. “G’ night, (Y/n),” Nejire mumbled, her voice muffled from where her face was buried into (Y/n)’s shoulder. “That’s all you have to say? Good night?” (Y/n) found that hard to believe. “I’m sorry that you had a partner like that. I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated, much better,” came the sleepy reply. “What are you even saying?” (Y/n) pushed, her neck and cheeks growing warmer with each passing moment. The only reply she received was the sound of faint snoring. *** Over the next few months, Nejire and (Y/n) seemed to be attached at the hip. Quite literally in some cases as Nejire loved to cling to (Y/n)’s arms or hang off her back. (Y/n) got acquainted with Tamaki and Mirio and quickly stepped in a rhythm with The Big Three that made it look like they had all been friends for years. Before long, (Y/n) was feeling much better in her new environment and Nejire was beyond pleased to see (Y/n) smile and laugh so freely. “Hey, hey, (Y/n), I’m going to be patrolling with Ryuko but do you want to hang out when I get back?” Nejire asked after class one day. “Sure, come by whenever,” (Y/n) smiled. She found it rather exhilarating how effortless her relationship friendship! with Nejire seemed to be. Of course communication was key, once (Y/n) came out of her shell, Nejire’s endless chatter became a lot less one sided. They learned a lot about each other’s likes, dislikes, and general attitudes and behaviors and sometimes even seemed to know what the other was thinking without speaking. A talent that that kind of freaked Tamaki out. “Great! See you later then, bye!” Nejire swooped in for a quick hug before gliding off to catch a transit Ryuko’s agency. “Bye!” (Y/n) waved back before heading towards the dorms. Despite how well they were communicating, they never did discuss that phone call awhile back which (Y/n) thought was odd. However, she certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. She’d be happy never to talk about her ex ever again and since they hadn’t tried calling back since that night, (Y/n) felt lighter than she felt in a long time. She smiled to herself before heading towards the dorms, deciding to paint while she waited for Nejire to return. *** It was getting late, though (Y/n) wasn’t too worried. Being a hero in training is often unpredictable and being worked overtime, even for work study, was not an unusual occurrence. It just gave (Y/n) more time to finish up her latest painting, a close up look into a lively tide pool. She was making this particular scene to commemorate the day she had gone out to the ocean with Nejire, Tamaki, and Mirio a week prior and she was planning on giving the finished product to Nejire as thanks for, well, everything. (Y/n) continued to hum along to the light music as she continued to stroke more detail into the piece before her, striving to make it one of her best works yet. Her fingers faltered before she reached the canvas again, a loud thump sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a heavy sliding noise. (Y/n) paused her humming and set her brush and paint down carefully before cautiously approaching the door. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion as she looked out of the peep hole to find no one standing there. She was about to head back to her canvas when she heard a weak knock coming from a lower position on the door. With a bit of apprehension, (Y/n) unlocked the door and opened it, causing Nejire to fall half into the room as her balance was disrupted. Nejire groaned but smiled all the same, looking dead tired in her scuffed up hero outfit. “Hey (Y/n), work sure was crazy today,” Nejire coughed, looking up at (Y/n) from her spot in the ground. “Nejire!” (Y/n) gasped. “You look hurt. Did Ryuko really let you come back to the dorms like this? Come on, let’s get you to Recovery Girl at least!” (Y/n) said with mild panic before beginning to tug the other girl into a sitting position. “No need to worry, (Y/n). I’m just tired from over exhausting my quirk. I’ll be back one hundred percent after some rest,” Nejire assured, however, the wince she made when (Y/n) helped tug her up did not go unnoticed. “Come on then, I’ll do what I can,” (Y/n) guided Nejire over to her bed and helped her sit. “What injuries do you have?” “Injuries? What injuries?” Nejire laughed, running her fingers nervously through her hair. “Nejire,” (Y/n) warned causing the other girl to pout before peeling off the top half of her hero costume so it fell around her hips, displaying the bruises that were littered across her arms. “Nejire!” (Y/n) exclaimed loudly. “Those look awful, you should really have gone to Recovery Girl or had Ryuko take you somewhere,” “But I was excited to see you,” Nejire whined. “I-“ (Y/n) took a moment to clear her throat and tried to fight back the warmth that flooded through her chest at her friend’s admission. “I’m not going anywhere, you can take your time to take care of yourself first in the future. I don’t like seeing you hurt and what if you had passed out somewhere trying to get back?” “I’m sorry, (Y/n),” Nejire frowned. “You don’t need to apologize, I was just worried, okay? Now, let me whip something up quick for those bruises,” (Y/n) grabbed a sketchbook off of her nightstand and flipped to a blank page as she took a seat next to Nejire. She was so focused on accurately drawing the medicine that she barely registered Nejire leaning into her side to watch her with sleepy eyes. When (Y/n) was happy with the details she swiped over the page and gabbed the newly formed jar of salve before it hit the ground. “You’re quirk is so useful, (Y/n),” Nejire complimented, pushing herself in a straighter position to accept the medicinal salve that was being held out to her. “Ah, thanks,” (Y/n) shrugged, suddenly hyper aware of how close she and Nejire were. “Anyway, rub that into your arms and it should help you from being too sore tomorrow. Then I’ll help you get in your room,” “Aww, but I want to stay with you,” Nejire yawned, rubbing the slave into her arms. “Ooo, chilly,” “Nejire-“ “Please, (Y/n)?” Nejire pleaded. “I require hugs to heal. Also, could you look at my back? I think it might be bruised too,” “First, you do not need hugs to heal and second, yes, I’ll give it a look,” (Y/n) stared in disbelief as Nejire turned, revealing a large bruise right below her sports bra. “Nejire, that’s a huge bruise! What even happened during patrol?” “Just a ragtag group of common villains, really. Nothing much apart but very distracting to fight them all at once,” “Still, this is a deep bruise, I wouldn’t be surprised if you fractured a rib. We are going to Recovery Girl tomorrow,” (Y/n) said, leaving no room for argument as she gently rubbed the salve over Nejire’s back. “Aww, you care about me,” Nejire giggled, craning her head back to rest it against (Y/n)’s chest. “Yes, I do,” (Y/n) replied, turning her face away to hide her probably beyond obvious heart eyes. “I care about you too,” Nejire replied, candidly. She turned over to hug (Y/n) tightly around the shoulders, her eyes catching the swirling blue, white, and green on the easel in the corner. “(Y/n)! Are you painting tide pools? So cool!” She got up and stumbled over to the painting. “Careful, Nejire! You really should be resting,” (Y/n) scolded, following close behind. “It’s beautiful, (Y/n).” Nejire praised. “I’m glad you think so. I was planning on giving it to you when I was finished,” (Y/n) smiled shyly. “Aw, really? (Y/n), you’re too sweet! Whoa, little woozy still,” Nejire stumbled backwards, but (Y/n) managed to still her. “Come on, you need to lay down,” (Y/n) said, half dragging Nejire back to the bed. “Woooo, the room is spinning!” Nejire laughed, flopping onto the bed and taking (Y/n) down with her. “Nejire!” (Y/n) admonished, face blazing as Nejire continued to giggle and hold her close. After a bit of struggling, (Y/n) finally gave in with a huff and allowed Nejire to snuggle to her heart’s content. Music was still played in the background and Nejire’s breathing had slowed to a point that (Y/n) believed her to be sleeping. (Y/n) sighed under Nerije’s weight, absently running her fingers through Nejire’s hair before remembering she had just been painting. “Shoot!” She hissed, raising her hand to her face. A bead of sweat glossed over her cheek as she observed the partially dried colors that were smeared over her fingers. “Hmm why did you stop? That felt nice,” Nejire softly complained. “Um, sorry! My hands are full of paint,” (Y/n) sheepishly replied. “Mm yeah, you also have some on your face,” Nejire informed nonchalantly. “Wha-“ (Y/n) raised her arm and rubbed at her cheek, finding a bit of blue and white paint on her wrist that hadn’t been there prior. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” “It's cute,” came the simple reply. “Even so,” (Y/n) cleared her throat, “You should have said something! I got paint in your hair and who knows where else,” “That’s okay, we can clean up in the morning.” Nejire adjusted herself a bit to swipe her fingers over the last of the wet paint smear on (Y/n)’s cheek and transferred it to her own. “Look, now we match!” She cheered before snuggling back into (Y/n)’s arms. (Y/n) smiled, her fingers once more taking roost in Nejire’s hair. She never knew she could be so lucky as to have such a wonderful person in her life. “I really like you a lot,” (Y/n) sighed, the words falling from her lips full of love without her permission and immediately making her tense. “I mean-“ “You do? I’m soooo glad you said something! I was actually really nervous to tell you that I really like you too!” Nejire admitted. “I just think about you a lot, you know? I feel like I can’t ever get enough of you, but it hasn’t been very long since your break up so I didn’t want to push you,” “You can’t get enough of me? You don’t find me... dull?” (Y/n) asked timidly. “Never,” Nejire replied with uncharacteristic seriousness. “You are as vibrant as the colors you paint with, (Y/n). Don’t let anyone try to tell you differently,” “Thank you, Nejire,” (Y/n) simpered, a prickly heat crawled up her neck as she prepared herself for what she would say next. “So, would you want to go to the museum with me this weekend? There’s going to be a special exhibit-“ A soft snore broke (Y/n)’s flow and she realized that Nejire had finally fallen asleep. “I’ll ask you about it tomorrow,” (Y/n) smiled and reached for the throw blanket to cover them both, sinking further into the bed and with the comfortable weight over her, her eyes drifted shut and she soon joined Nejire in blissful sleep.

[thissisatitle]

I have noticed that you have been drawing a lot of Rulena as of late (Nothing wrong with that btw! You're the reason I've come to enjoy the ship and love seeing it on my dash!) when before you've drawn Tsengrulena, and was I wondering what drew you into focusing on their relationship?

Hi! Thank you for enjoying my art. It's always nice to see more people getting into this little boat =D

I think what got me into this ship specifically is learning & examining more about Elena's story & personnality (and let's be honest, I'm not good at drawing interactions so when it's three people at the same time, it's gets even more complicated and tiring) and my brain decided to focus on Rulena because of the potential and it's such an underrated ship even among rareships, it needs more love.

Ts/engru has still a good number of people producing art & writing and i was kinda feeling a bit burned out for various reasons. Ts/elena is a rareship but it has it's own litle fanbase & is more popular and I've trouble getting into it bcos I personnally can't see them work out at as a couple (not in the long run at least), in particular after reading the novels unless there's someone playing "the bridge" in-between hence why I can actually see things work out in Ts/engrulena.

I'm a bit sucker for the kindred spirit trope & I've found that there's some similarities in their backstories & motivations and still, both of them are also really different people. I can see softness but also intensity developping between the two. Rufus controlled & enigmatic personnality ( that hide a more emotionnal side) contrast a lot with Elena's klutzy fireball side. They are in a way like ice and fire and equally as ruthless. Steadfast and clever but also really flawed people. I can see all kind of dynamics, interactions & stories developping from there and how they could grow into a power couple.

There's interactions in the novels between the two we don't get to see directly but are cited but there's that sense of trust & respect and there's those little moments like Elena thinking that Rufus deserves to live somewhere "better" than Cliff Resort or Rufus checking on her by the window of his lodge while standing, despite the pain and immediately trying to find fo her something else to do (despite the fact that she did a great job with the stimulants projects) that made me go "aw".

Rufus take her seriously on a professional level but was also never shown dismissing of her feelings. I don't think he would coddle her at the same time (which I feel is something Elena wouldn't accept) & instead do what it takes to have her evolve in her job. Despite her temper, BC shows that Elena is someone open to critiscism as long she doesn't feel berated. And we see the way Rufus tries to advise Tseng in the same game. He is firm but fair tho we can see some frustration at some points from his part and ask for his opinions on the matters.

And when seeing Rufus's personnality in Remake & how he acts around with Cloud, it's hard for me to no think of him not taking some kind of interest in Elena unless they decide to make him a total asshole with her for no reasons.

And idk, I just really like the idea of Rufus gradually having someone who manages to have him feels less guarded around and open up as well, not because Elena is a soft caretaker type, she isn't really but because of her honesty and because she cares fiercely.

Also , I think that they are super hot malewife/girlboss ship and have a lot of horny energy that needs to be satiated lmao.

[nitrosplicer]

Since high school, I’ve had a strict policy on pleasure reading: if I’m not enjoying a book, I will stop reading it after trying for an hour. It’s been oddly cathartic. I wanted to post my list of books read in 2020, with the caveat that this is a non-exhaustive list and does not include most of the academic books I’ve read across the year. I’m also including re-reads, marked with an asterisk.

1. Everything I Never Told You, Celeste Ng

2. Pachinko, Min Jin Lee

3. My Sister The Serial Killer, Oyinkan Braithwaite

4. Future Home of the Living God, Louise Erdrich

5. Colonel Barker’s Monstrous Regiment, Rose Collis

6. How To Change Your Mind, Michael Pollan

7. Her Body and Other Parties, Carmen Maria Machado

7. The Yellow House, Sarah M. Broom

8. The Body Papers, Grace Talusan

9. The Starless Sea, Erin Morgenstern

10. Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer

11. The Nickel Boys, Colson Whitehead

12. The Testaments, Margaret Atwood

13. Tentacle, Rita Indiana

14. I’ve Got A Time Bomb, Sibyl Lamb

15. Catspaw, Joan D. Vinge*

16. My Meteorite, Harry Dodge

17. Lost Children Archive, Valeria Luiselli

18. This Republic of Suffering: Death and the American Civil War, Drew Gilpin Faust

19. The Dreaming Jewels, Theodore Sturgeon

20. More Than Human, Theodore Sturgeon

21. Venus Plus X, Theodore Sturgeon

22. Such A Fun Age, Kiley Reid

23. Life Beyond My Body, Lei Ming

24. The Topeka School, Ben Lerner

25. Something That May Shock And Discredit You, Daniel Lavery

26. Good Neighbors: Gentrifying Diversity in Boston's South End, Sylvie Tissot

27. Fear, Gabriel Chevalier

28. Regeneration, Pat Barker

29. The Fellowship of the Ring*

30. The Two Towers*

31. The Return of the King*

32. Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?, Jeanette Winterson

33. What You Are Getting Wrong About Appalachia, Elizabeth Catte

34. Written On The Body, Jeanette Winterson

35. The Eye of the World, Robert Jordan

36. The Great Hunt, Robert Jordan

37. Rosemary’s Baby, Ira Levin

38. The Stepford Wives, Ira Levin

39. Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup, John Carreyrou

40. The Madwoman In The Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth-Century Literary Imagination, Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar

41. Out of Salem, Hal Schrieve

42. Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys*

43. The Spirit Catches You And You Fall Down, Anne Fadiman

44. Redefining Realness, Janet Mock

45. Frankenstein in Baghdad, Ahmed Saadawi

46. Kindred: Neanderthal Life, Love, Death and Art, Rebecca Wragg Sykes

47. The Goldfinch, Donna Tartt

48. The Secret History, Donna Tartt*

49. The Red Dragon, Thomas Harris

50. The Silence of the Lambs, Thomas Harris

51. Mrs. Dalloway, Virginia Woolf*

52. House of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski*

53. Life On Mars, Tracy Smith

54. HERmione, H.D.

55. Nature’s Remedies: Healing Herbs by Jean Willoughby

56. Winter Botany by William Trelease